how do you change a tire? do you EVEN know HOW?

I was in need of counsel; real, no-bullshit counsel. So I sought the advice of the coldest of the cold, asked for assistance from the iciest being I know.

"Lake Ontario," I said, alone on the beach save for a couple far down on the other side making out in the lifeguard stand. "I feel lonely and sad and scared all the time, and I don't feel like anyone or anything can help me."

The lake was a loud listener, gushing freezing blasts of waves that receded with harsh hisses, but a listener nonetheless.

"I mean, I don't know. I kinda feel like a big fake moron for telling you this," I continued.

Roar, recede. Roar, recede.

"Do you want me to come over there and prove I'm not a wimp?"

Roar.

"Because I will."

Recede.

I rolled up my pant legs and ran into the frigid waters. "Look, Lake Ontario, I'm not afraid to get my feet wet. Ha, ha."

I watched some aeroplanes go by and made some wishes. Only vague things, because wishing for specifics doesn't work.

I looked over my shoulder at the CN Tower in its ugly lit-up glory and wished on it, too.

Then I wished on the dim light of the lifeguard stand.

And then, I said goodbye to my attentive friend and walked home.

"Life is, and is not, a gentle bore."

So:

1. Lying on Vanessa's bed listening to Moonshiner, I ask "Was this your song?"
She answers, with tremendous bravery, "It was his song, I think."

2. Holding hands with a dear dear friend on a wednesday morning, I remembered us doing the same in Saskatoon while an enormous flock of bohemian waxwings took flight the morning after it rained. This felt different, but not jarringly so.

3. Swaying with Vanessa last night while a band from our hometown played at a tiny little country bar, I felt like I was home. Then I started worrying about where home is, if there's more than one, and where I should really be.

4. I finished Microserfs and it was perfect.

hit the low note

Yesterday, Alison and I ate a delicious vegan dinner at Fresh on Bloor. She's in town for a brief few days before she skips off to Ukraine for 1/4 of a year, and I got to see her, which wasn't entirely expected and was completely wonderful. We wandered Harbord Street and Kensington and Bloor at night and it was magicmagicmagic to sit under the protruding glass of the ROM and talk about what we're afraid of and what we love.

I don't head in to work until noon today, but I arose early nonetheless to sort out some questions I had about my university courses and to call the bank to pay tuition. Of course, the guy on the phone at York assumed I was a total idiot and had no idea what I was talking about, but once I finally convinced him my concerns were legitimate, he was pretty nice about it and we figured everything out. Looks like I'm attending courses on two separate campuses, but uh...that's just a cool challenge.

I'm doing slightly better financially than I thought I was, but I was definitely under the impression that I was completely fucked. Looks like I'll do okay if I limit my expenditure a bit more for the next two weeks...and um the rest of the year.

Apologies for this fairly uninteresting information (re: school and banking). A neurotic's got to get this sheezy off her chest.

here comes the crash (we have tiny friendly parachutes)

Vanessa was here this weekend, and she's going to be my roommate for a semester, starting two weeks from now. She is incredibly dear to me and has this supercapacity to make me feel safe and whole.

To give you an idea, in the following picture, Vanessa and I were both at a time where we pretty much hated our lives. There had been death, heartbreak, and scary work-and-school-related things. And we look happy in this picture, because we are. Because we were together:


photo credit: Jess Lewis
(pay no heed to my cockatiel hair. it was like that for months.)

Seeing Vanessa for the first time in a few months on friday morning was ordinarily perfect. I ran into her room, she bolted straight up like she was a '30s actress, I glimpsed her tattoo (we have matching ones and i refuse to be embarrassed about this) and felt like I would burst with happiness.

I have a feeling things in my life are about to get a lot scarier. Vanessa will be here, though, and we're kind of champs when we're together.

surreality

Last night, I had a dream that my friend Jim and I were gambling (not for real, but with real money). I had three twenties in my left hand and a handful of change and a key(?) in my right. We were listening to a mix c.d. he had made and the Magnetic Fields were playing.

"Jim," I asked, my voice defiantly swallowing any threatening tears, "Why does everything suck so much?"
Jim adjusted his linen suit jacket and looked down at his cards, shrugging. "I don't know, friend. I guess that's just how it happens."

I opened my mouth to say something more, but then "Crazy in Love" came on and I started laughing. "Hey, did you know Chuck Klosterman wrote about this song in Killing Yourself to Live? He said that he almost died when listening to it and - "

Then I woke up.

and i turned 'round and there you go

When I moved here, I made a page-long list of various tasks to perform and things to accomplish. Each item varied greatly in terms of difficulty, i.e. "get a job", "buy coffee and tea", "locate a cheap photocopier", etc. About a week ago, I finally got around to obtaining a library card (second last tickbox). By this point, I had forgotten all about said list until the helpful librarian actually presented me with the card. Upon my return home, I checked what was left on the list, and was pleased to see that there remains only one item ("develop promising talent"...clearly something I could quantify :P).

So, um, goodgood. Makes me feel a bit more settled, I guess.

Adding to my relief is that I won't have to spend many weeks crying over finding a part-time job, as my current work place is planning on extending my contract. This is a Big Deal to me. I feel fairly insanely lucky.

There are some difficulties that have been arising in other sections of my life, but I feel this is pretty typical and to be expected. We will see, I suppose, and hopefully I keep my chin up no matter what.

Tonight Nadya and I are making artichoke and sundried tomato pasta. Tomorrow night, Vanessa-dearest will be home (albeit for a few days, then off again, then back for the semester). This is hugely wonderful. I've missed her a great great deal and we have much to discuss.

And now: to work to work.

Is it a crisis or a boring change?

Jen and I went to see Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind in Yonge-Dundas square last night. It didn't rain like it did for Annie Hall, but it was chilly and I wrapped myself up in Jen's enormous penguin-patterned blanket that we had been using as a beach blanket earlier that evening.

(The beach is a whole other matter. Let's just say there is a reason why I got teary-eyed and shaky from purchasing a swimsuit.)

Anyway, obviously it was enjoyable, but I seem to feel sympathy for different characters with each passing viewing, and to various degrees of intensity. The time before this, Joel seemed like a heartless pushover and Clementine like a hostile and selfish jerk. More intriguing were Stan (Mark Ruffalo's character) and Mary (Kirsten Dunst's). I recall feeling quite moved by Stan's teary nose-wipe as he walks away from Mary's car. They both get super unresolved endings, and this somehow really struck something with me.

This time, however, my heart was back to Clem, despite her hostility.



"People need to share things, Joel. That's what intimacy is. I don't constantly talk! I'm really pissed that you would say that about me!"

The contrast of such solemn sweet words and anger is irresistible.