>I was smarter two weeks ago

>
So I went to put the finishing touches and conclusion on a chapter of my thesis yesterday. I set aside two hours for the event. And I was all proud of myself for getting to it and not putting it off. Plus I knew this was going to be a spiffy chapter.

Right. Well I read through it and it WAS spiffy. Too spiffy. I didn’t understand some of it. But you wrote it! some of you are saying. Don’t I know it. Crap. I’m actually getting stupider as the days pass. I ended up spending the better part of four hours trying to figure out what the heck I was saying and then said to hell with it and went to bed. Going to bed, by the way, does NOT make the thesis go away. Sigh.

On a lighter note, I love mornings. There I said it and it does not make me a freak. There is something fabulous about first thing in the morning. I love walking to school with Madonna and Alanis blasting in my ears, still smelling like soap from my freezing cold shower (bloody neighbours and their insistence on turning on their shower at the same time…), and I love my coffee people at Just Us who are always so cheerful. I love sitting at my desk in the empty office and reading BBC news stories while eating a blueberry muffin and getting crumbs everywhere which will piss me off later when I want to put a paper on my desk. Contented sigh.

>roadkill days in wolfvegas

>
I love my sunglasses. They are massive bug like things that make me feel like an instant movie star even if the rest of me looks like roadkill. Today was a roadkill day…and where were my sunglasses? Broken. No movie star for me.

The problem with living in a small town like Wolfville is that roadkill days are that much more public. You are bound to run into at least five people who will say “you look tired” (hands down the most irritating phrase a person can say). Enter the giant sunglasses. Sigh. Reason number 5 billion why I can’t wait to get back to Victoria.

>my movie part two

>

I DID IT!

I changed the tape. Pressed stop and yanked out that crap, predictable film. I was bloody tired of watching her go upstairs so to speak. My brain said ENOUGH.

Unfortunately, this is the only tape I have. So now I’m sort of looking at a blank screen which is a bit unnerving. Some might see this as an opportunity to make my own shiny new film, and they would be correct. The problem is where to begin? I’m going to need some time to think about it.

Off I go to write about the Comisión para el Esclarecimiento Histórico (Guatemalan truth commission).

*a note: for those of you who are thinking to yourselves “VHS?” I say that’s right, VHS. This is a 25 year old film and DVD didn’t exist.

>
Got this from Vesper and Zona Boy…very fun. Pick an artist then answer the questions only using titles of their songs.

1. Name of band/artist: Alanis Morissette
2. Are you male or female?: Mary Jane
3. Describe yourself: Sympathetic Character
4. How do you feel about yourself?: That I Would be Good
5. Describe your ex girlfriend/boyfriend: Not the Doctor
6. Describe current girlfriend/boyfriend: 21 things I want in a Lover
7. Describe where you want to be: Front Row
8. Describe how you live: One hand in my Pocket
9. Describe how you love: Surrendering
10. What would you ask for if you had just one wish?: Utopia
11. Share a few words of Wisdom: Wake Up
12. Now say goodbye: Thank U

Alanis got me through highschool, uni the first time, T.O. horrors and now uni again. I should send her a card.

>my movie

>

Have you ever known how something was going to turn out, and known that it probably wasn’t going to be great but insisted on telling your brain to shut up and wait it out anyways? Just for curiousity’s sake, perhaps to see how it all goes down? And maybe even with this tiny, silly hope that you might have been wrong to begin with?

I consistently tell my brain to shut up. Sssshhh I say to it. I’m watching the movie that is my life. And my brain sighs. Because this movie is bad. Not bad in that “oh she has it rough way”. Because let’s face it, I’m a white woman in North America with a university education so really things can’t be that bad. But bad in the “oh so predictable DON’T GO THROUGH THAT DOOR YOU FOOL” sort of way. But just like those movies where you tell the girl not to head upstairs (WHY UPSTAIRS!?), you know deep down that she has to go upstairs, and furthermore that you have to watch her do it. You aren’t going to turn it off or switch films. Such is my life. I get moments where I think I might switch films, but then I think what if this is actually an oscar winning movie with a slow start? Sigh.

>where to go from here?

>
Long but perfect:

“We must assume our existence as broadly as we in any way can; everything, even the unheard-of, must be possible in it. That is at bottom the only courage that is demanded of us: to have courage for the most strange, the most singular and the most inexplicable that we may encounter. That mankind has in this sense been cowardly has done life endless harm; the experiences that are called “visions,” the whole so-called “spirit-world,” death, all those things that are so closely akin to us, have by daily parrying been so crowded out of life that the senses with which we could have grasped them are atrophied. To say nothing of God. But fear of the inexplicable has not alone impoverished the existence of the individual; the relationship between one human being and another has also been cramped by it, as though it had been lifted out of the riverbed of endless possibilities and set down in a fallow spot on the bank, to which nothing happens. For it is not inertia alone that is responsible for human relationships repeating themselves from case to case, indescribably monotonous and unrenewed: it is shyness before any sort of new, unforeseeable experience with which one does not think oneself able to cope. But only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, not even the most enigmatical, will live the relation to another as something alive and will himself draw exhaustively from his own existence. For if we think of this existence of the individual as a larger or smaller room, it appears evident that most people learn to know only a corner of their room, a place by the window, a strip of floor on which they walk up and down. Thus they have a certain security. And yet that dangerous insecurity is so much more human which drives the prisoners in Poe’s stories to feel out the shapes of their horrible dungeons and not be strangers to the unspeakable terror of their abode. We, however, are not prisoners. No traps or snares are set about us, and there is nothing which should intimidate or worry us. We are set down in life as in the element to which we best correspond, and over and above this we have through thousands of years of accommodation become so like this life, that when we hold still we are, through a happy mimicry, scarcely to be distinguished from all that surrounds us. We have no reason to mistrust our world, for it is not against us. Has it terrors, they are our terrors; has it abysses, those abuses belong to us; are dangers at hand, we must try to love them. And if only we arrange our life according to that principle which counsels us that we must always hold to the difficult, then that which now still seems to us the most alien will become what we most trust and find most faithful. How should we be able to forget those ancient myths about dragons that at the last moment turn into princesses; perhaps all the dragons of our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us once beautiful and brave. Perhaps everything terrible is in its deepest being something helpless that wants help from us.”

-Rainer Maria Rilke

>when will it end?

>

Would it be incredibly un-professional to put ‘coffee’ in the acknowledgements page of my thesis?

That is if I get to the acknowledgements page. You cannot acknowledge people or inanimate objects for their help in something that was never completed. I’m convinced that there is no end to this tunnel. I can’t see a light…I can’t even see a spark or a ray or anything. I’m going to be writing this thesis for the rest of my life. 75 years from now I’ll be contemplating the meaning of global civil society and staring at the same computer screen, hands permenantly frozen in the typing position and eyebrows permenantly furrowed. The screen will be long dead and the human race will be bursting into flames around me and I’ll be sitting there, staring.

>

Icky? Yes. Where was it? On my pillow. How loud did I scream? The cat was five times her normal size.

Ick ick ick. Living alone was put to the test today because I couldn’t just scream and tell David to deal with it. I had to deal with it myself. So I did the mature thing…I put a glass over it and have evacuated my bedroom and set up camp at the kitchen table. I can sleep here until it dies under that glass. God help me if it has friends and relatives…I only have a few glasses. Apparently it’s harmless, but I ask you: if it’s really harmless, why does it look like that? All truly harmless things should look like kittens. This thing looks like it could eat through the glass its under (which is why I’m in the front room).

Sigh.