day two

can you see it? can you see it?
personally, I love it.

I love those days when I can't tell my hands apart.

(Truly, I do.)


I also feel...maybe ambivalent about my vein drain today.
They had to stop the draining after about three minutes (they had filled the little bag and only STARTED the big one) when the nurse said that my blood was too slow.
Then she said I had started bruising so they stopped. They didn't really tell me what was going on so I decided to be patient. I kinda like the unkowns of the human body. I love things that aren't easy or whatever because I marvel at the human body's ability to heal itself and compensate and all that.
I like that there was a glitch, that there was something wrong with the visit. BUT, I didn't like that I couldn't donate my max amount. (Hence, ambivalence.)

It's a very weird sensation, that sharp pricking on the inside of your arm. I only get that on some visits, usually when the pressurized arm band is too tight and when they need to readjust the needle after it's already in. [I've been denied the last two times I tried to donate. I forgot how painful the insertion of a needle is. Not that it's anything compared to being punched in the face or stubbing a toe but hey - its not painless.] I love it when they readjust the needle. There's no way you don't feel every second and every square nanometre of it. Mmmhmm.

"Did you know you can get money NOW to start saving for your child's education or training after high school?"

(that's what a canlearn.ca commercial just said! I love it! I love that they said, "education or training" because that's just so important! yes! That's the perfect compromise. Let's say everybody should finish high school and then those that wanna school can school and those that wanna do something else, can do something else! Not everybody's cut out for post-secondary ed! Let's stop the guilting! Ahh, je l'aime.)

what I wanted to write---

I have always loved how 1 is unique among ALL numbers in that its units are singular where every other number has plural units. Maybe that seems obvious. I always do a little step back and double take when I think about it. Above 1 I could understand: 2 ducks, 167 people. But you'd think that anything less than 1 would also be singular: Zero dollars...but also negative nine-point-eight metres per second. My favorites? The fractions between 1 and 0: zero-point-nine grams, even three quarters. ohhh baby. love it. 1 is so special.

1 and 1

things I hate:

#2 two-door cars.

something I like:

OMAR
Why you let that creep talk to you that way . . . All you gotta do is swing and keep swinging. F*** it if you lose. F*** it if you win. Makes no change either way. Just let him know you's a man. I ain't the smartest guy in the world . . . but I do know that some people you can talk to, some people you gotta fight.

CUPCAKES
I took a swing at him.

OMAR
Not hard enough . . . Not at the right place. You should wait till Juan is here.

CUPCAKES
I don't wanna use Juan.

OMAR
Bulls***. If you're drowning, you use anything. You's a fine motherf***er, Cupcakes. like I said, I ain't the smartest guy in the place. But I get the feeling you like being a fine motherf***er. And maybe . . . (71)

Piñero, Miguel. Short Eyes. Toronto: Doubleday Canada Ltd., 1975.

14 active games and 3 inactive games

I don't ever remember feeling so grungy as I do right now.

What is it? is it the half cup of champagne that's just not sitting right? is it the chocolate left-over taste in my mouth? (old chocolate taste is ALWAYS grossenating to me.) is it that I need to go pee? is it that my hair feels like straw today? I think it's time to break out the Dove conditionizzle. (why have I waited so long?) is it dreading work on Friday? (YES) Is it feeling alone even when I've spent much of my time in the last fortnight with friends that I adore? is it self loathing? is it disappointment? is it the devil trying to tell me there's a loophole in God's character and His grace ACTually just ran out? (LIE)

what is it? I think my pants are too tight. also, this sweater needs to be washed. dude, I love it but I wear it all too often. I think I also feel I got short-changed from this evening's jumbly hang-out with two on-purpose friends and two whaaaa???? friends. (I like 'em all, don't get me wrong.) I liked that good conversation at the end, too. I liked it. I could feel myself listening. I think that being strangely tired (I shouldn't be!) was helpful. Somehow it made me focus more single-mindedly. I am ashamed that this is what it takes. (Can I not be so good a listener all the time?)

I've been romanced by the United Kingdom yet again.

Yes, I definitely need to pee. And I'm definitely going to take a shower tonight..knowing I'll take one in the morning. Morning showers are for function (cleanies and WAKE!!ies) but night showers are for comfort. it feels good to go to sleep with your skin all soft from warm water, your hair all natural and Idon'tgiveacareI'lljuststreamacrossthispillowifIfeellikeit. I also like smelling good. I love showering and not having anywhere to go. (Weird. I never thought I'd say that.) Ohhhh kay now I'm looking forward to it. I'm also very excited about the two notebooks I found at Chapters today.

What's that? They're made in Canada and Spain respectively? What? One had a "30% off" sticker on it? What? It has a curly (what's the proper term?) spine so it will lay open and fold over as I tell it to? Yep. That's what I need from a Jesus journal. They gotta meet all my needs AND anal-retentive idiosynrasies. (I have a few.) I figure - I figured this out maybe a year ago - that it's worth...yep it was last August, I remember it now... it's worth paying more money for a journal I delight to write in when it only takes one or six little things to irk me enough to say I'm not having quiet time today. I never say that outright, I either sub sub sub-consciously think it or I just waste or "run out of" time until the sun sets and my eyes close so there's nothing I can do about it. [Insert "innocent" shrug and wide eyes]
The other journal is pretty sweet... green lines, crazy colorful and ecofriendly cover that's just small enough to do the job I want. I wasn't sure if I was going to write This journal but, seeing the book, I'm now sure of it. I've already started. I love writing. I love that I love to write. I love that I CAN write.


You know, my sister used to have this book, black hard cover and blank white pages inside, about six by eleven inches and in it she would write (or draw) ANYthing. I mean, a schedule, appointments, ideas, poems, prose, homework (this is in uni), sketches for doodle, sketches on purpose, lists.... man so many things. So many everythings that anyone would write down. I look at it and my brain registers equal parts envy and frustration. Envy that every thing goes in one book. You don't need four, you don't need a notepad, a calendrier, etc. etc. You could find everything in there at one time. BUT, frustration because you CAN'T find anything there at the needed time. I mean, there's no form or structure, there's no table of contents or page numbers so how do you know where anything is? Fortunately, I think visual memory (and having less than 200 pages) would help you out enough that you could never get TOO lost but let's be serious here! What if I want to KEEP some things long term and THROW OUT some things the next day? Couldn't do it, couldn't do it, couldn't do it. So, vicariously, I love it ...cuz she can do it. Love it.

In light of this, I'm excited for the small, task-specific journal because I haven't given myself a form. I think it'd kill the spirit of the exercise so I'm excited to be allowed to write freely. I'm going to write freely and..... and yeah, it will be good.

I decided that an aspect of my thinking style is reflected in the sports I like to watch (not to play). Hockey and baseball are a DEFINITE YES while American football must be a DEFINITE NO. Baseball makes sense to me because it's very ordered and predictable. (When I say "predictable" I don't mean to imply "boring" because I know that WITHIN a play - or, on any given pitch - almost anything can happen and yes, baseball is exciting. But it's predictable certainly in the sense that it's ordered and play is stop-and-go and positions are VERY specialized.) Hockey, on the other hand, makes sense because it's completely random. (When I say "random" I don't mean that the sport is aimless or impossible to follow. There are many rules to the game and it is intense and complex - in some way - but at the end of the day, it LOOKS like skating in circles with sporadic flurries of activity here and there...which often result in more circle skating.)
American football now, THAT just makes me crazy because it's a SET of stop-and-go flurries of random. It's the rudest hybrid of the two situations I have mentioned above that I have ever come across. I don't much like the sport. When I got a brief glimpse a few months ago into some of the inner workings of it, I had a BIT more respect/interest for it but I haven't seen it through. I also appreciate it for how many die-hard proponents it has. Nonetheless, it looks like ordered randomness and THAT doesn't make sense. It's a mathematical discomfort for me.
Basketball is a lot like hockey but has a different appeal (another story) to it.
Football.....(European) football just pisses me off. ahhhh yep. I don't get it. I doesn't even fit into my categories. Though I did spend many of my formative years under the impression that I was in love with this sport and would excel at it. hmm I feel a shower comin' on.

"Would you like to be a man?"
"No. Even though I feel women get the short end of the stick most of the times--"
"Are you saying that God didn't create us to be equals? Are you saying that His creation is flawed?"
"No. I wasn't making a truth claim. I was saying that that's how I feel. I have hardly made up my mind on the subject yet."
"But what you 'feel' reflects how you see the world, doesn't it?"
"No, my feelings reflect how I SEE things, not necessarily how they are. I generally try not to trust my feelings until they're founded on something verifiable or concrete."
(Silent)
"It's like a priest - he gives the appearance of being a man of God when really, he's a man of Satan."
"WHAT?! How? What are you saying?"
"I don't mean all priests, I mean for those who molest children, young boys. Molesting kids is pretty much about as satanic as it gets."
"That doesn't make him a tool of Satan, though. It's bad, yes, but you don't have to go that far."
"We humas love to think that something exists between the extremes of good and evil. We like to think it's a spectrum and, as long as we are > 0, we're good. Hence the development of purgatory. (A minus-three can be cured with anything better than a plus-four, I guarantee. I'm not sure about subtracting a negative, though. That concept, perhaps, doesn't translate into the abstract world of valuing human works.) 'If you're not with us, you're against us,' has never been more true than when 'us' refers to God. There is no third choice, this is not a false dichotomy. If you're not a proponent of God, you're a proponent of Satan. [Pause] I'd like to say that this Earth is about a battle between the two, between God and Satan but that's just giving Satan too much credit. More than that, it's like saying Satan was self-created or maybe that he's equal to God, in terms of function. I suppose a better description would be, you're either with God or you're with Not God. Ahh, how painfully extreme and rigid."

oh, man.

the lyrics of this song are as tru for me today (particularly in this moment) as they were the first summer I delved into this CD which was the summer after "moving" out of my mother's house. oh boo.
but WOW do I love the song.
This song plays perfectly into the hand of all the things in me that try their best to disagree what I know is true about God on my good days.

I’m tired of being me,
And I don’t like what I see,
I’m not who I appear to be
So I start off every day,
Down on my knees I will pray,
For a change in any way

But as the day goes by,
I live through another lie,
If it’s any wonder why
Am I ever gonna change
Will I always stay the same
If I say one thing,
Then I do the other
It’s the same old song,
That goes on forever

Am I ever gonna change
I’m the only one to blame
When I think I’m right,
I wind up wrong
It’s a futile fight,
Gone on too long

Please tell me if it’s true,
Am I too old to start anew,
Cause that’s what I want to do
But time and time again,
When I think I can,
I fall short in the end
So why do I even try,
Will it matter when I die,
Can anyone hear my cry?

Am I ever gonna change
Take it day by day
My will is weak
And my flesh too strong
This peace I seek
Till thy kingdom comes

Extreme. "Am I Ever Gonna Change?" III Sides to Every Story. A&M Records, 1992.

I'm wearing black and yet I feel nothing.

So much dread, so much anxiety....so much nothing.
What a weird Sunday. I'm disappointed beyond belief. I'm actually pretty angry.

God, forgive me my numbness.

Today is the day I understood that words can be remarkably empty.
Today's also the day that everyone's saying I love you. Today is the day for hugs, for a hand on the back, on the shoulder, the hand, the whatever you can make contact with.
Today is the day crying comes in spurts and is sometimes contagious. Today is the day I admit I had never thought I'd write an obituary. Today has been a bizarre day, breaking the land-speed record by lasting about 200 hours, just like yesterday.
Today I am hungry, un-hungry, over-stuffed and starving. Today I appreciate kind words. Today I understand that "I'm sorry" is a truly functional PHRASE. It means, "It happened, it sucks and I can't change it." That's it.
Today few things are "important."
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Today I realize that I don't know who's ready to hear it. I don't know when they will be gone. I don't care if you hate me, if we lose our friendship that day or maybe speaking privaleges for a decade. You needed Jesus and I should have told you.

FORTUNATELY,

(thank Jesus for the FORTUNATELYs),

fortunately, my spirit of regret and self-loathing was renounced early Thursday morning. Because it plauged me I had to ask, "Is her blood on my head?" It was a REAL, real question, in terms of bluntness, in terms of how sincerely I wanted an answer. My friend said, "No," in an exhale. That means it was emphatic. NO very much, he meant. Continuing, "No, not at all," to be sure. "No..." Sure he'd keep going I interjected, perhaps to cover my perceived stupidness, "Well then, I've been very misinformed." Turning right down Norfolk St from Paisley....
"That's not your fault, that's not your decision." It sounds like the same things I've been told other times by half a dozen people after some other traumatic incident. "It wasn't your fault; you can't blame yourself. It was his decision to hurt you." Yep. I look forward to the day I accept that. I took these words because they were the best I could get right then. I trust this guy. I was actually kinda relieved, initially cuz I was expecting the answer to be complicated, even if it did lean toward the negative. "Isn't there responsibility or obligation..." I trail off, truncated halfway, "Yea there's responsibility but," - it was striaght-up -, "in the same way that, if you HAD shared with her, and she HAD become a Christian" (a light bulb flicks on in me) "then the credit wouldn't go to you." I overlapped the last few words, "I....approve of that notion," with the dryest tone you might imagine cuz that's how I exaggerate. I threw my hand over my heart - as I usually involuntarily do when I'm speaking from it - and utterted something else to attest to my full believing. "That is intensely liberating," perhaps, rounding a left onto Wellington from Gordon. Thank You, Jesus, for the truth.

Nonetheless, yesterday was the day I grasped how incredibly ______ the Gospel is. I can't even write this sentence now, without sounding trite. Since I have found that little slice of freedom, I don't very often think about how many others I should be tellings because you just don't know. It seems strange now. I am however, going to send that letter to my brother that I should have been done with by Thanksgiving Day. My family's important...and I'd hate to have copped out on them by keeping the story to myself.

Today is the day I realized that NOTHING brings you comfort like Christ in a time of mourning. (How much more this comfort when the mourned had Christ also!) But today, for these, for those who are not me, grief is suffocating. There is no outlet, there is no..... trite, again. What do I know of grief?

Jeya, I should have told you

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empire waist on a cotton dress

-slight strain down the side of my neck, right side; reachin up to a throb behind my ear
-bruisy, scratchy, cry-y knuckle on the left forefinger
-stinger on the left index finger
-general soreness on both triceps (like after holding your hands in the air for too many minutes)
-strain on the inside of the left forearm, like I lifted something too heavy and held it for too long
-dull pain in the lower back

...more might show up tomorrow
.....I am so pleased with EVERY LAST ONE of these because I got them sliding down an icy hill repeatedly.

we emerged from friends house (eight of us) after we'd seen someone sliding by outside the window. She had run and slip-slideyed her way down a hill - at about a 35-degree incline - and it was very attractive. we filed out and everyone but me went to the top of the hill and began their descents.
serious, we went up and down like tireless 10-year-old tobogganers, trying some spins, some backwardses, some group descents...it was awesome. I was jealous.
I had to switch shoes. I did and it was fun. Was it fun? it was SO VERY fun. I tried a bum slide but that didn't work. I guess I have too much traction on my derriere. Chuck Taylors, on the other hand, they grip NOTHING. soo gut.
then when my chauffeur got in his car and so did my fellow passenger, I asked him if I could slide into the door (while he was driving away or not). he said yes and then asked if he should move the car around. So he did. it was positioned perpendicular to the road. man, how many times did I try to slide into that car! a handful of others tried, too. there were many laughs and enough photographs to incriminate something.
there were a lot of head-long shots, some smashing into the door-ages...I tried to go feet-first once, too.... the goal was to "slide" into the car like and end up looking like you just stepped in properly. feet first seemed like a good approach, like if you could grab the top of the door frame, jump then sit. I feel like I've seen that work SO MANY TIMES on television but I MUST be thinking of something else.
it did not work.
I grabbed the frame, I got my feet in but I had already lost my thrust so that I couldn't turn myself around or even force myself enough in the car. I flopped backward, thinking I would just hang half off the seat into oblivion - or almost to the ground... but then some imaginary force (heathens call it "gravity") tugged me backward and I got crowned on the pavement. Then I fell a little further, if that's even possible.
I think my favorite run, though, was the one where I slid in (pretty well, I might add!) and my friend slid in about half a second after I did.
IT
SURPRIZED
THE
HECK
out of me.
I think what made me laugh most, though, was imagine what it must have looked like from the outside. SO WRONG, it was.

the new tactic was to use the left side of the frame (where the door was not hinged) to spin one's self around counterclockwise and BUM in first, feet in next. it worked quite decently well, and not just for me. there were a couple double-entries, some other weirdnesses.
I also enjoyed the moment when another girl suggested leaving the OPPOSITE door open so one could try a through movement and supposedly slide down the rest of the hill. if it could have worked, I would have loved it. She definitely lost ALL kinetic (?) energy half-way through. She belly-flopped on the seat and stayed there. It was kinda funny to watch. the car owner, who was standing holding the door, because he thought it was funny to close the door after a successful entry, scoffed unsmilingly. it was funny.
after this flop, though, he said, "Did she ACTUALLY think that would work?" He cranked the ridiculousness of the situation up a few notches with that comment. After a few slams into the voiture he also made the whole thing look ridiculous because his amusement was dwindling and he looked more and more like a parent or responsible older brother type. I wouldn't have wanted to SNAP his patience or make him upset, but as long as he was mildly unimpressed, that actually made this escapade more fun.

following one of the other double-impacts, the door was slammed after us but because I was itching to go again I didn't wait for the door to be re-opened and for the other person to get out. I opened the other door, tucked the top of the frame behind my heel and somersaulted out backwards. It was a pretty good dismount. hahah they laughed at me. it was good fun. I love backwards somersaults. breaking my neck terrifies me but... God's been gracious enough to wire me with muscles and flexibility and SOME common sense.

WOW.
HOW
MUCH
FUN.

unexpected, unplanned, unstable, almost unsafe.... I loved it. I just loved it. I am very glad I decided to change footwear so I could participate. it seems so unlike me. but once you get into it..whooo!
ahh. I feel so good about this.. I'm amazed. and the "injuries" are great souvenirs.
(they're not even real injuries...I got a bigger hurt when I dropped my laptop on my shin. DO NOT ASK how.)

every time I think of memory-triggering injuries, I remember some film in which a woman was talking with her girl friends about the wild sex she had in her kitchen the night before. This is the kind of up-on-the-counter stuff.... and she definitely got a few whams on the back of he head by the cupboard before they moved to more easily manoevred territory. I guess it was either a bed or a couch. she talked (I forget if it was to him, if he apologized for the bump or to her friends, just as part of her story) about how she liked the association she would have every time she felt that sore spot on the back of her skull. I think it's interesting. I wish the example wasn't so unseemly but there it is. That ...bitter-sweety feeling can be very wonderful.

Like..... the bitter makes the sweet sweeter, doesn't it? The Sweet wouldn't be what it was without its opposing counterpart. "Opposing" is not the word but....there you have it. I love them dichotomies. :)

typographical errors from church bulletins or announcements

(cribbed from an email)

At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be "What Is HELL"? Come early and listen to our choir.

Please place your donation in the envelope along with the deceased person you want remembered.

Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 PM. Please use the back door.

Weight Watchers will meet at 7 PM at the First Presbyterian Church. Please use large double door at the side entrance.

The Associate Minister unveiled the church's new tithing campaign slogan last Sunday: "I Upped My Pledge - Up Yours."

The Men's Fellowship will gather at 7pm for a baked bean supper; Music will follow.

deux aut choses:

#1 Today was my first escapade in the Science Complex.
It's glorious. It really reminds me of York U (from the early/mid-90s) or even the U of Edinburgh. I walk in there and I think, Wow, I'm in a research facility. Or, I'm in a university. I'm in an institution of higher learning. I say I'm "in" but I don't mean that I'm enrolled here, I'm a student here but rather that I'm inside the building. Part of what titillates me so much about being in places like that is knowing that I don't belong. It's really cool. I'm filled with respect and flooded by awe. It's kinda like the Toronto Reference Libby at Yonge and Bloor. How much do I love that place?? Like, love love love? Quite a bit, actually.
I didn't stay in the Complex for even 25 minutes.. but I imagine I'll go back soon; later this week, next month and certainly next semester. It's weird for me to have a building on MY campus be foreign to me.

#2 A dutchie is called a "dutchie" because it's a Western appropriation of a Dutch sweet (pastry?) ollieboullin. I seriously need to look up tha spelling. They're deep-fried doughy goodnesses with raisins and cinnamon (do they sometimes have slices of apple in them?) and WOW I would love to have some authentic ones right now. I tried the actual dutch kind at a friend's house but she would never purport to be DUTCH herself. She has a Dutch maternal side and enough influence, etc. etc. but I want to go to Holland and experience the greatness. If there's one thing I've learned about Western appropriations, it's that MUCH gets lost in translation.
DUTCH-ie. I can't get over it. I can't get over the fact that I did not know this sooner. Ah well. I'll live.

bringin out the underbrush

I love to wait for the last few kernels of corn to pop after the microwave stopes before I take the bag out. That definitely reminds me of the Friday night BritCom-a-thons of my childhood. And then I sometimes think of "Eastenders" because my mom used to change the words to their theme song to something about me. She loved to eat the half-popped kernels that the rest of us didn't care fore. I can still see the 10-inch steel bowl and hear the stripped kernels drop back in. So long ago.


What would I have to do in my life in order to be referred to as a "God-fearing woman"?


If the disciples got separated from Jesus in like a library or shopping mall or bus station, they probably went to look for Him at the Lost & Found. (That's where I'd look... And by the time I caught up with Him, I'd expect it to be a Found & Found. That's right: He's a redeemer. Hahah He must NEVER pay full price for His goods because of all the coupons He submits..aahhh aha.)

[31/10/07:) 20h31]

a full year's wage to save the life of one.

music euphoria, how I've missed you!

Friday -

22h21 begin the sleep process

Saturday -

05h55 begin the day

06h34 leave house

06h51 punch in

10h48 punch out

11h03 begin playing background (seasonal music) at Bazaar

14h02 finish playing

14h[30] start planning meeting

15h[45] finish meeting

16h55 talk with friend

17h35 finish talking

17h40 DINNER!

19h15 sleep by accident

21h03 wake up on purpose

21h37 Concert with Scott Normandy (21h30 & 23h30) and J-Dub and the Door-to-Doors (22h30 & 00h30)

Sunday -

01h[40] leave venue

02h48 start sleeping

05h00 wake up

06h05 wake up

06h20 wake up

07h25 wake up

09h45 wake up

10h15 leave for chizzurch

Honorable mentions:

07h30 (Saturday) sing in the marvellously echo-ous bathroom while sweeping its floor

10h20 (Saturday) wonderful, wonderful, wonderful Stella Artois

00h15 (Sunday) ask J-Dub what's in the second set because I should have been in bed before the FIRST set started

"You won't wanna miss it," he says once or twice while describing the list and different voicings they'll be using and I can only really half believe him because he's biased.

12h30-01h14 (Satur/Sunday) wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow wow (what?) J-Dub did not tell a lie. The unit was so cohesive, so passionate and so talented/proficient that I was full-on mesmerized for the full 40-ish minutes. There were moments that my hand started raising itself because the uber-high quality of the music was making me want to explicitly worship Jesus.

01h17-01h28 (Sunday) acoustic... is after my own heart. fast and accurate hands on a guitar neck...what could be finer?

01h50 "A good sleep is only good for a day or two," runs through my mind as I pass the bus terminal. "But good music will stick with me for a long time," is helpful in assauging the inner termoil.

10h28 (Sunday) immersion in contentment and relaxation (what?) What? I feel happy in church because I'm in church? What? I am free from guilt in.... maybe NOT going to work this morning? Well... I suppose that goes to show that praying to God for forgiveness & grace then promising to drop the subject and walk away ACTUALLY works. Talk about liberation.

10h[40] (Sunday) making someone smile for something ridiculous

10h30-11h00 (Sunday) finding real worship. finding that I sing the songs truthfully. (how long I have been a liar for standing before men - and more important, before God - and pretending to praise Him but actually having no heart and no mind to do so.) what I liar I have been! how consistent He is... the same as when I left. I worshipped and He is good.

12h10 (Sunday) plain old-fashioned doughnuts are... much like vanilla among ice cream flavors but I don't care. it is poised to take its place as "favorite" any day now.

I have much to do today but I am.... not worried.