Guess where I am ! No. No, silly, not there. Nope, not there either. I'm at school. That's right, as in back at Seneca, sitting at Brian's computer - only Brian doesn't sit here anymore. Dan's teaching on the Mon/Wed/Fri schedule, so he told me to come in and get back into it, which is nice, and important. I sat down when I arrived, opened Maya, and was stunned by how much I'd forgotten in the short span of a month. This time last month, I was napping on the couch in the lounge, waiting for my project to render, then putting the final touches on everything. Now, at this point, a month later, I don't even know where I packed my demo tapes or project files. It's irritating.

Let me jump back a day or two in order to bring this weblog back up to speed with my life. I've been so busy with so many things that have only been marginally entertaining. Now, many of you would say that life is not about being entertained, but I will happily argue. Really, what's the point of doing anything that takes up most of your life if you don't enjoy it? Some would say, do it - for instance, a certain job - and then take what you earn and enjoy holidays or hobbies... I say, make your holidays, hobbies, or whatever INTO the job. I don't like menial tasks. I like a challenge to my creativity. My creativity, of late, is being sadly under challenged. Whoops, I've digressed.

Wednesday: the day before St. Valentine's Day. Naturally, this makes for a better night to see Rick. I'm not a fan of Valentines at the best of times, and Wednesday fit my schedule better. After working at Heretic, I went to Rick's house, arriving late because I'd had to put my car up in the old neighbourhood where I still have a permit to park. We watched the Olympics and ate a lovely spagetti dinner that he made for us. He gave me a card, despite my grumbling, and it was very sweet and funny, so I guess he got away with it. The rest of the night was lovely, relaxing, and intimate - no need to say more.

Thursday was, of course, the glorious Hallmark holiday of love. *rolls her eyes* When I was a child, I loved St. Valentine's Day because my mom would give me cards and little gifts, and I always liked exchanging cards in school. Or, rather, I did until people stopped remembering about me. I would find that I would get eight cards and the majority of kids would have twelve or fifteen cards. The final straw was when someone realised I hadn't gotten a card from them, and they took one meant for someone else, crossed off the name, and wrote mine in over top. Valentines became humiliating for me. Then in high school, I had stupid teenage-girl expectations about boyfriends and the 14th of February. Fights usually happened instead. By the time I was eighteen, I had lost all interest in celebrating the day at all.

So, on Thursday, I went to work at the store, and had a lovely day, mostly. There was a steady flow of people through the shop, and in a slow moment, I got to do some art for the MUD Companion. The last hour, however; was marred by a woman who needed to power-trip me and ruin my day. Her husband (lover, boyfriend?) was very nice and as I stripped every bloody manequin in the store of their displays for her to try on, he and I chatted. The woman even had me take down the window display in order to try it for herself. She kept asking for my approval and her husband's, and we offered help and compliments where appropriate. I was sure she'd buy something. After nearly an hour of that, she took everything off, bundled it all up and handed it to me.

HUSBAND: You don't want anything?
WOMAN: No, I just wanted to try it on.
WOMAN looks at ME: I was just playing. Have a nice night !
ME: Just playing?
WOMAN: Yup, I didn't actually want to buy anything. Bye.

So, out they went with all seven of her bags from other stores along the strip, leaving me with two naked manequins and eight garments to rehang/display, plus jewellery lying on the counter. She made me very unhappy, and she knew it. She can be as controling with her husband as she wants, if he likes it, but it is NOT nice to take advantage of those who are just trying to be helpful and friendly because it is their job. I thought my night was ruined at that point, and as I walked home when I'd closed the shop, my funk just got worse. When I turned up Manning Ave to go get my car in order to drive back up town, my head was full of black sadness. At that moment, I had no idea that something would completely reverse it and make me feel wonderful again.

About fifteen houses north of College, on Manning, I came upon a most marvelous article of ... garbage. Or, at least, the people tossing it out thought it such. I did a double-take before stopping dead in my tracks. Lo, there was a low counter beneath which were three long drawers and cabinets on either side. Surely something would be wrong with it, though, I thought. I tried the drawers and all three opened smoothly. I opened the cabinets - they were nice and deep. The thing was white, with a scratched up top in the most vibrant emerald green I've seen on a piece of furniture. Add to this, a lovely 1950s industrial late Art Deco styling with fake chrome accents, and you can understand why I stopped. I practically trotted up the street to my car, worried someone might take it before I got back to it.

The question of how I was going to heave the thing into my car all by myself didn't occur to me until I pulled Scarlette (the car) up along side of it and opened the trunk. I hmmed for a moment then noticed a fellow with casual, intellectual, heading-home-or-to-a-laid-back-lounge sort of look to him coming toward me down the street. As he approached, I decided he looked like a fun sort of guy and called out to him.

ME: Hey, you know what you want to do? [Clapping hands once and pointing at him enthusiastically]
GUY: Hey, no, what do I want to do?! [Stopping and grinning]
ME: You want to help me move this piece of garbage into my car !
GUY: You're right ! I absolutely do !
ME: Awesome !
GUY: Will it fit?
ME: You bet, that's why station wagons rule.
[Much organising of crap in the trunk of car, then removing of drawers from piece of furniture and some positioning inside Scarlette so that it would fit, all the while discussing what I'm going to do with the thing and where it's going to go in my house]
GUY: Is this a Subaru?
ME: It sure is, she's great. She's 13 years old and still kicking.
GUY: I thought so. They're great cars; I had one up to a couple years ago. Is it a 4WD?
ME: You bet ! What's the point without it?
GUY: Ya, my Subaru was good. They're excellent cars. [Both regard the item of furniture in the car for a moment]
ME: I think I can handle the rest now. Thank you so much for your help.
GUY: Well, you're welcome, but how could I possibly refuse, especially with an invitation to adventure like that?
ME: Woohoo ! You're a hero !
GUY: Hey great, I've done a good deed ! I hope it looks lovely in your future living room.

That guy, whoever he is, was super-awesome, which, if you did not realise, is even better than normal awesome. He made my task possible, fascilitated a person's garbaging habit, and was cool, too ! I've no doubt that as much as he made my night wonderful - even magical - again, I made his quite enjoyable as well. It was fun. Also, I now have a fantastic bit of future-home shuckling around in Scarlette's trunk.

Today, Nick and I are looking at those future homes. We saw one this morning which will be the benchmark house, though we really can't take it. The owner lives below and she absolutely requires quiet living. It's a shame, because mostly, Nick and I -would- be quiet, only, once in a while, we need to bubble over and become boisterous and shrieky. We're going to look at some other places later this afternoon, but they're not in so wonderful a location, and chances are, they won't be so nice. Oh well. There's next week for looking as well. We will find something, of that I have no doubt. I will pick up the Saturday Star tomorrow, too, because it has the massive classified section. Whee !