The sky outside my room is very beautiful, or rather, was very beautiful for about two minutes, some fifteen minutes back. The cloud cover was an amazing cornflower blue with paler blue sky peaking through and there was a fading strip of salmon pink just above the roof-line. Rising over this salmon was a moon of sweet cream, a pale, pale yellow that slipped in and out of the clouds. Usually the eastern sky at sunset lacks for interest, but tonight it was quite lovely. I called Stew in to look at it but by the time he'd pulled on pants and come in, the moon had slipped away and the pink stream was diffusing. Now there is no hint of pink in the nearly dark bank of clouds and the moon has disappeared from view. It was a moment of sky magic.

I did not end up going to the ROM today. Instead, I suffered the fourth migraine in as many days. I think the cluster might be finished now as I haven't needed to take any pain-killer in several hours, but it's been a real pain - literally. None of the migraines have been severe, and with the exceptions of yesterday evening and eight o'clock this morning, Advil Migraine did a fair job of making them tolerable. Despite that, when you pile them up, they become very draining. So, obviously, I haven't gone out to either bake dough ornaments with Nicole, nor have I hung out with Rick, two things I was entertaining this time yesterday. This also means I don't exactly feel up to going out for Willi's cat food. She's out of kibble and while it's downhill to the Price Chopper from here, it's VERY uphill to come home.

Tomorrow, I have to go to the framing shop to have four pieces of work framed for the art show/contest at The Gathering of the Fellowship, which is rapidly drawing nigh. I don't think it's an art sale, per se, so I plan to post a sign with the pieces pointing people to Nicole's booth where I will be available to discuss sales and also have other non-competition art for purchase. I'm going to have all the frames built into standard sizes, with only the mattes varying. I don't know why I never thought of this before, but it was my Mom's suggestion and it means I'll be able to interchange the art with only new mattes being necessary. Run-on sentence, woo. It should be remarkably less expensive than getting them all individually framed, too.

In other news, both the CRAP party (that would be the Canadian Reform Alliance Party) and the federal Progressive Conservatives have voted to join together as a united right. The new name of the party will simply be the Conservative Party, and since the Alliance will be joining with the Tories, it's fitting that they drop the word 'Progressive' from the name. As most intelligent people know, there is NOTHING progressive about the Alliance. I am greatly disappointed by this. Aside from the obvious threat posed by the united right-wing parties, it means I'll have to vote pragmatically in coming elections simply to keep them from actually winning.

Wow, I've just spent the last three hours, or so, cleaning my room. There was some selective other house bits that I cleaned, but this was a bedroom kind of day. I am not actually finished this monumental task as a significant amount of miscellany is lying on top of my bed. I know that at least a quarter of it is made up of clothing, but as for the rest, it's up for debate. There's no question, by the end of the night, I will have cleaned that up and changed my bedding as well. All this business has been hindered by cats who when not under foot were digging through the bag of garbage and spilling the contents, rolling themselves up in the rug, throwing litter on the freshly swept floor, attacking the swiffer wet-jet, and trying to get into every possible place I needed to have my hands.

I'm taking a break now, considering what I should do for dinner. Stew walked into my room earlier today and handed me fifteen bucks saying, "Order some Swiss Chalet, or something." He is one of the few employees left in the world that still gets a Christmas bonus and his was pleasantly more than what he'd expected. Swiss Chalet sounds kind of nice, since I've really eaten more pizza over the last two months than any human ever should.

...

Okay, I just ordered Swiss Chalet's Festive Special. On-line. Whee ! The future is now ! Cool. Anyway, just on my computer desk, we're not talking about anywhere else in my room, I've found $2.25, which is subway ride. Hurray ! I'm sure that will come in handy. I've managed to put several books back on the shelves from which they were removed quite some time ago, and I've put all my convention sellables together. I sorted out my Christmas cards from last year and have begun designing this year's models. I'm pretty pleased so far.

The ornaments went very well, with the exception of Sierra balking at doing her homework and being sent to bed early. Had we thought about it, we should have had her do her reading homework right away when she got home and then the ornament painting could have been a big reward. Instead, we did painting with the intention of taking a break and then finishing our project. Oh well. I finished them by myself and I think it's fair to say they came out really well. I tied ribbons on them while watching last week's CSI in Stew's room and various Simpsons episodes. He's very good about letting me infringe upon his privacy. I think he's the best roommate I've ever had. I'm probably going to make a new batch of ornaments tonight, too, and paint them over the weekend. These will be the ones for giving away.

Speaking of Christmas ornamentation, I was out on the front porch, shaking my bedroom rug, and could hear the pathetic strains of some electronic musical ornament somewhere. I noticed that neighbours had put up fairly tasteless lights and made the assumption that the music went with them. Unfortunately, it turns out I was quite wrong. Stew came in from doing his laundry and said, "You know that ugly fake tree the downstairs people put out on the porch? Well, not only have they put lights up in it, but it plays Christmas music, too." So, it seems their bad taste extends to seasonal festivities as well. A shame. But, since they haven't asked for money yet, I'll let it slide. At least it's not so loud that I can hear it through the sliding door.

I still haven't met our new downstairs neighbours, who also happen to be our landlords. They moved in over the weekend and the most I've seen was a woman shoveling the snow (sort of unecessary considering there was less than half an inch, but I guess she was keen) who said hi to me. Stew and I expected to have to pay them rent, but as of yet, the money hasn't moved from its place at the top of the stairs. Maybe they think we paid Arthur for November, our old landlord, or maybe the deposit given to Arthur has been transfered to the new owners, as I think it's supposed to have been, and they simply aren't planning to ask for money. We have no idea. We haven't heard from them.

What we do know is that they have terrible taste in decor. First they painted the entry foyer a sort of green that reminds me of an avacado with stomach flu, and then they put a plant stand in it. With hideous fake flowers on it, with fake drops of dew on the fake petals. Yeee. They also mounted some ghastly ceramic sconces and ornaments on the wall above the fake plant. These lovely pieces of art (this is sarcasm, by the way) are white and gold, I think, and in the shapes of putti (cherubs) and garlands. On top of that, a couple of them hold individual matching fake flowers. Good God. It's horrible.

Stew should be here shortly with Sierra. We're going to be painting dough ornaments tonight. I bought craft paint and sealer yesterday and I have some paint brushes we can use (since I forgot to pick up some new cheap ones) and there's a pile of ornaments ready to go. I shall put down some newspaper or something on the floor and we will each paint one side of the ornaments in whatever colours we want. It should be fun. I also have an advent calendar for Sierra so she should be in a good frame of mind.


You're Most Like The Season Winter ...

You're often depicted as the cold, distant season.
But you're incredibly intelligent, mature and
Independant. You have an air of power around
you - and that can sometimes scare people off.
You're complex, and get hurt easily - so you
rarely let people in if you can help it. You
can be somewhat of a loner, but just as easily
you could be the leader of many. You Tend to be
negative, and hard to relate to, but you give
off a relaxed image despite being insecure -
and secretly many people long to be like you,
not knowing how deep the Winter season really
is.

Well done... You're the most inspirational of
seasons :)

?? Which Season Are You ??
brought to you by Quizilla

There is some stuff I really must get off my chest. A pot that had been slowly simmering for a number of months has finally boiled over. After the initial scorching burn faded, I was left with the unmistakable feeling of a numbing chill. The chill of, for lack of a better word, betrayal. It was deception, whether intended or not, it does not matter. I made a promise several months back that I wouldn't talk about certain things. A remedy is in order, now, and while it doesn't truly matter who the specific people are, the story is overdue for telling.

A promise of work was made. Freelance employment that would pay and provide amazing opportunities for growth, experience, networking, and the ultimate: real work at the end. It would be challenging and absorbing, and it certainly was those things, but the original five criteria were not quite fulfilled the way I was led to believe. At first, all seemed to go well. I did work that was fun and exciting and it led to a victory and the assurance of further work. In fact, I was so persuaded that I turned down a very good opportunity with a growing company in order to pursue this. Placed on the central strategic team, I expected further work in communications, both written and graphic. I was even given a title: Director of Visual Communication. It was fabulous.

Some of you might recall that I was enthralled with the notion of working on a team made up of several highly talented, articulate, progressive-thinking people, roughly the same age as myself, where I really felt that my opinions mattered and my skills would be used to their best advantage. A communications team was created, a pool of talent with many different work experiences, and I was at its core. Somewhere along the way, someone decided that two people would specifically be responsible for the writing and I would create the 'look' to match the content. That I wasn't going to be directly involved with the text did not matter, I was being handed an entire complicated project to design for. Meetings were discussed, to pin-point the structure of the project.

I was supposed to be there. It was an oversight that I was not informed of the date, time, or location. It wouldn't happen again.

It happened again.

Still lacking any text, from which to get a feel for the design work I believed I was charged with, I began to get a bit uncomfortable. Not exactly nervous, only slightly anxious, really, I picked up the phone and explained my concerns to the two people who should have solved the problem - the people heading this whole project up. Assured that my concerns would be looked after with further promises that this would not happen again, I returned to waiting for the text. When another week had passed and I had not heard anything, I got in touch with the guy who suddenly seemed to be running the communications team. What had begun as a committee of five or six now seemed to be a threesome with a boss. I called him up. "Hey, where's the copy? It would be really useful for me to read it, get a feel for it, since I'm supposed to be laying it out." New assurances were made - it's coming, we're just touching some stuff up, give us a week.

I waited.

You can imagine my surprise when I discovered at a general group meeting that the whole communication plan had changed. And I had not been informed. It was at about this time that it dawned on me that I was the only woman still on the team. The others had been entirely removed. I didn't let that bother me, though, since these were progressive young people who spoke out for equity, equality and the rights of women. Add to this the fact that I was informed that money for work previously completed would be slow to come because of buget problems, and could I wait a little while longer for it?...

More time passed and timelines were becoming tighter, solid, no longer loose suggestions of a vague future. It was summer and I suddenly found that I had been totally cut out of the communication loop. The communications team seemed to have stopped communicating. I discussed this with another who had been involved and he did not understand why I was being left out. I discussed it with those who were supposed to be on top of all this. I was told that certain things had been taken in hand by he who was now in charge of the team and I would have my work filtered to me from him as needed. My first official unranking. I was demoted. I was irritated.

To assuage my ire, I was given a new task to fill time until my design skills would be called to task. Being game, and let us not forget, utterly devoted, I accepted this. "It won't take too long, some letters need writing is all..." I discovered that I was now suddenly clerical staff and these 'some' letters were being written on a letterhead that I had definitely not designed. It was a hint that I ignored. Then a pamphlet was created with text I had not seen and imagery and lay-out that I had never conceived, or even vetted. And there were a lot of letters, not just some, and they certainly showed no sign of ending.

My response to this was abrupt. I went away for a week to my cottage. I had to clear my head. When I returned, it became clear that the communications team now consisted of two, and neither of these guys were me. And what was worse was that none of the men who could have kept this from happening seemed to see any problem. I saw a problem, though, and spoke up about it. Once more I was placated, this time with a new promise of an office management position. I accepted it. Despite tight purses, there would maybe be money in it, and regardless, it was still a lot of responsibility and would look swell on my resume. Office Manager.

Now it is September. Having recovered some pride with my new job, I set about organising the office in the manner that I saw fit. "It's your baby," I was told, "Set it up the way you think it should be." Great ! In the meantime, I was still working on those letters. They had progressed from some, to lots, to hundreds. I was diligent. I wrote them. After all, I was devoted to the cause. I believed.

Note now that September saw things come apart on a personal level. I told Rick that I needed a break, in part because I simply couldn't handle my life, the work I was doing, and a relationship. So I thought. I knew it would suffer, at any rate, as I began to spend more and more time in the office. You see, I am at heart a selfish person. I'm a good person, kind and generous, caring and compassionate, but ultimately selfish. Where normally I was devoted to myself, offering some of this to Rick and other friends, I was now putting most of my energy into a new vessel. Let's call that vessel Politics. I let my personal life slide; housework stopped, personal projects stopped, socialising ceased, and this also meant my time with Rick. I needed time to think. But I had not time.

Robert died, ushering in the Autumn season. I left everthing and went to New York for the funeral and to look after his father, my mother's very close friend. "Take as much time as you need," I was told. "What you're doing in New York is more important than anything we have going on here." Thank you, I thought. Support came when I needed it. I promised to return for the big fundraiser, I wouldn't miss that, it was too important, I said. So I returned in time and once again fell back into work. I helped prepare the event, completing last-minute tasks and running necessary errands. It went off beautifully.

Returning to the office, immediately settling back into the work I had left off (that had not been carried on in my absence). There was a new face in the office. I spent a day working with her without actually knowing her name. It seemed she owned the place. Things were in different places than where I had put them. Well, offices are not static places and I had been gone a week. As I was working, I overheard an introduction that stood my hair on end: "Hey, have you met so-and-so? She's our new Office Manager. How great is that?!" These words were spoken by the very same man that told me the office was mine - My Baby.

Keeping silent this time, I carried on. I was devoted. The larger picture was what mattered. The end results were what counted. Not the fact that I had been demoted again. I began to look around me, to assess the roles of others, to determine where they had begun on this road and where they had ended up. It seemed I was not the only one who had been left at an inn along the way. No, indeed not. I and every other woman that had begun as a core team member had been utterly marginalised. We began to compare notes.

They were all strikingly similar. And every one of us had begun with extremely important tasks set before us and every one of us was now stuck in an administrative role with little real content. We also noticed something else. Things were beginning to tear at the seams. As momentum was building, the end in sight, our ship was being pulled apart under stress and none of the men who had usurped us noticed. They were much too busy building up each other's egos. It was awful to watch. So, from the sidelines, four women, including myself, made a desperate attempt to pull our ship together. Duct tape wasn't going to be strong enough.

Crazy glue was though, and we knew that what we were about to do was verging on the insane. With two weeks to go until the end and no one at the helm (I'm rather enjoying this naval metaphor). Schedules were not being adhered to, important events were being skipped, bad decisions were endangering the cause to which we had all devoted. We had no choice. We had to take over, but in a way that would not cause a mutiny, to implement a coup d'etat with gloves so soft as to be imperceptable.

One took over the running of the office. One became the shedule co-ordinator, not just of one man, but of everyone. One became the den mother, literally keeping the boys happy and encouraging them as only a mother can so that they would not notice what was going on. I became... I became the Handler. I made sure that things were not missed or skipped and did so simply by always being there to remind, to chauffeur, to escort, and in some cases, to calm down. I became an additional voice at public events, a familiar face, an assisting pair of hands. It was bloody brilliant. It was so bloody brilliant that no one noticed. Except us, because we were responsible.

Behind every great man stands a great woman, it is said. In this case it was four great women. Victory had a man's name, but we knew that we'd won it every bit as much.

The story does not end here. If you are still with me, I am not only impressed, but very appreciative. We now come to the point where I have to remind these same men of my existence, of my skills and talents, to remind them of promises that had been made and forgotten. There was a frank discussion about staffing concerns in the New Role post victory and opportunities within the new team make-up. Part-time work (with benefits) was suggested as the full-time positions were to be filled by, thankfully, very excellent people and generally to be divided equally by men and women. The better route might be to look for openings in other offices where I might fit, something I was not opposed to at all.

Money, finally.

Yes, I thought, this is good !

Yesterday, I discovered a different truth. Somewhere between a positive discussion and a phonecall a bit more than a week later, everything had changed. "Come check out the new digs," I was invited, "You can pick up some of the money I owe you, too." Half of it. Half of a very small fraction of what is owed me, in fact. Then I was put on the phone with another. Wait. That other wasn't supposed to be at the office, he had not been on the list, this very same person who initiated my utter severance from the communications team. I was stunned. Wait, what about the woman? Nope, she's not on the team. What about the other woman?! Working for another office, replaced by a man.

I was hit by a tonne of bricks. Poor Carrie, with whom I was at the time of this phonecall, had to bear witness to my wrath. No women?! NONE? No, I did not think I would come by the office today, actually. But, my overwhelming need to make rent reared its head and a tiny fraction of money received was better than no money, so I gave in and we set out. Carrie did a wonderful job of calming me and I put on a brave face in the new digs. Despite feeling like a poor relation, as one hundred dollars were folded into my hand, I was up-beat. I was not; however, going to miss out on the occasion to find out if there was any new about work.

"I don't think there's any part-time work, really, we have to be careful with how we're seen to spend our budget." Well, that sounded familiar. "It will probably be a situation for contract work." Right, like all the contract work I had previously done and was still waiting to be paid for, or the following contract work that went to someone else altogether. The heat began to rise in my cheeks once more and decided it was time to leave. I spared everyone of my fury because I did not want to make a scene. A scene is what they needed, but men have the uncanny ability that allows the words of angry women to simply bounce away unheeded.

I fumed. There have been few occasions in my recent lifetime when I have so truly fumed as I did on Monday. Not only was I not going to get work, or even solid proof that I was at all valued, not only had they revoked every responsibility I'd had up to that point throughout the previous months and strangled my ego, not only had they fallen short of every promise made and allowed me to be degraded, but to have NO women on the staff...

It would have been enough for us ! And it certainly was enough for me.

The shock and anger has been as palpable from the other women that had been on the initial team, the same women who came together at the end to save the sorry necks of men who would not give us gratitude, not look after us, not even thank us properly... The optics of it are appalling. Even the least progressive leaders can bring themselves to hire a woman, if only as a token gesture. I learned a valuable lesson, a hard fact that I had never would have believed would hold true in this day and age. My mother, THEIR mothers, faught hard for equity and equality, and still I was not allowed in to the club. The Old Boys' Club.

Perhaps I overstate the broken promises, the betrayal. I got amazing opportunities for growth, experience, networking, and the ultimate: real work at the end. I grew in that manner that people like to call 'character building'. I had the experience of a lifetime devoting myself to a cause I believed in, seeing it through to the end, and getting screwed the entire time. I networked. Oh yes, I have built a network of at least three other very strong women who once again are banding together, this time to help each other to fulfill the ultimate. Real work at the end.

Oh, and the pay? I'm still waiting.

Okay. Before I talk about the lion king I have something to show you.

Who knew?

Several polyhedra in various materials with similar symbols are known from the Roman period. Modern scholarship has not yet established the game for which these dice were used.

I can think of a few. *laugh* The world is cool.

Anyway, The Lion King was what I was expecting, only much, MUCH more engrossing and far more complex than I would have guessed. It was spectacular. The last time I left a musical feeling as totally blown away was when I saw The Life with Megan in New York. And before that, Phantom when I was twelve. It was extraordinary. The costumes and puppets (which were basically one and the same) were so imaginative and whimsical. The elephant... OH MAN. The opening sequence was so fantastic, I almost cried. And Rafiki... the woman who played Rafiki is South African, and at least half of her lines were in a S. African dialect full of clicks and whistles. She was brilliant. I am very, very glad that I finally got a chance to see it. It was worth the wait. And it was also very nice to see it with Rick. Our seats were very good, to the side, but in proper chairs that we could move, so it kind of felt like we were in a box, and to make it even more appealing, the second act was opened with dancers among the audience, including right next to us. Keen !

Painting faces at the ROM was fun. It wasn't as busy as I imagined it would be, nothing like the last time where it was literally non-stop children for four hours. I had enough time yesterday between kids to take up the challenge and create a giraffe paper-bag-puppet. I even gave her a purple tongue with which she can lick her nostril. I was apparently a huge success with the kids, parents were thanking me profusely, taking my picture with their kids, and telling Richard (my boss) how wonderful I am. Validation is always nice, even if it is in a line of work one has no interest in.

So, anyway, I remembered the other thing that has to happen on Monday. My new landlord takes over. The house was sold, they want us to stay on (big sigh of relief), have moved into the lower part, and we have yet to meet them. It kind of sucks that I'll get to say, "Hi, I'm Maya, I can't actually pay you until mid-month, I hope that's not a problem." Heh, ya, right. Anyway, maybe with someone living downstairs again, and they being in control of the thermostat, we'll get some decent heat in the apartment. Or, maybe I'll just go ahead and bring my space heater back from Peterborough. It turns out that the swearing-in is actually on Tuesday, or the one open to the public, at any rate. A---- says it's some kind of party, so that might be fun. Instead, Carrie and I will continue our quest for pants and perhaps some Christmas gifts. So, that's my new Monday plan.

Friday caused a migraine. Okay, maybe it wasn't Friday's fault, perhaps the weather is to blame, but regardless, I woke up this morning and called into the ROM to say I'd be in later. Then I called in later to say that I wouldn't be able to come in. I should have known last night when I couldn't fall asleep that a migraine was on the way. Stew was home and settled into bed before I actually fell asleep. I worked, read, wandered about, watched television, read, lay in bed, but did not sleep. The upside to it, though in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't the best upside ever, was that Willi spent most of the day under the covers with me. At one point, probably around a quarter after two, Tobe came in and did her typical "hi, hi? Oh. Hi?" meow and was horrified when the blankets started to growl. Poor Tobe backed out of my room in fear. Go, Willi !

I was going to make salmon steaks for dinner tonight, but hopefully, since they were frozen, they'll last in the fridge until Sunday night. I ended up eating a frozen dinner because I just couldn't bring myself to actually cook. Not really feeling up to doing anything that involved thinking, either, I decided to get a start on my dough ornaments. This is a project I'll be doing with Sierra. I have to go out and get some craft paints, though maybe my tempra paints will be good enough. She and I will paint them, hopefully this Wednesday afternoon. It was a project that I fondly remember doing with Mom when I was about five years old and the decorations still hang on our tree every year. I hope Sierra will enjoy it as much. Of course, she'll get to keep a bunch of them for her own tree and I'll keep some for ours here in Toronto. I will also probably make a bunch to give to people as presents, since I'm really not feeling wealthy enough to buy things.

Rick and I are going to see Lion King tomorrow night. This would be the fulfilment of a promise first made something like two and a half years ago. It's going to be a little awkward, I think, considering where we're at, but I really want to see it and I only really want to see it with him. It's a bit of a shame that Scarlette has passed on, as I hate wearing evening dress on the TTC, but what can you do? Maybe I'll spring for a cab home. Anyway, I'm excited and nervous at the same time.

I have a lot of work hours over the Christmas holidays. This is good. They're mostly short shifts, which is not so good, but eventually, they do add up. I'll be home for the important days, but there will be quite a bit of back and forth between Toronto and Peterborough, as always. There is at least one day I'm working where I'll earn holiday pay, as well, so that will be nice. I'm hoping that I'll get the money I'm owed for other things in the near future, though, as rent is due on Monday.

Speaking of Monday, two things are happening that are both very exciting. After all the election stuff, Monday is finally the swearing-in. I will be there, of course, but I have a nasty feeling that it's going to be taking place nice and early in the day. Also...

I can't remember what the other thing was. I guess that means it is time to quit for the night. I shall check on my dough ornaments and have a shower, then I shall hie me to bed.

Back in Toronto and struggling to finish a project for A---- that I started months ago... I have to get it to the printer sometime in the very near future but changes keep being made and it's starting to annoy me. Of course, as I have learned, the more changes that are made the more hours I log and that means more money to be made. Sometimes, this basic rule fails, for instance, when clients leave my invoices in oubliettes. Stupid freelance work.

Work that is supposed to pay but doesn't is not good work. Let this me a rule.

Mom and I drove into Toronto together, Willi boxed in the back seat, a bag of goodies for Stew and myself, clean clothing, and an artificial Christmas tree jammed into Bernadette's broken trunk. Bernadette is Mom's Subaru, who is suffering from rear locking mechanism constipation or something and simply won't open. Anyway, the drive was miserable in the rain, fog, and roadrain (kick-up from other vehicles), which meant I had to stick to or under the speed limit. Anyone who knows me knows that I like to add a little haste to my driving. We picked up take-out dinners from St. Hubert for us and Stew and took them back to my place for num-nums. Stew was pleased and it was generally a very tasty dinner. Mom and I then went down to Book City to see what delicious bargains they had going on. It was not as successful as it has been in the past, what with fewer artbooks on sale, but since the sales change all the time, it's sometimes kind of hit or miss.

I picked up a book for me ("Mort" by Terry Pratchett - I'm getting very good at reading his books utterly out of order) and put together a fairly substantive literary list for those inclined to buy me books. There are a couple of de Lint books that I hadn't seen before and a new Volsky book. I rather like Paula Volsky. I read her first book, "Illusion", God, back in grade eleven or something and enjoyed it. I think I've read all of her books since that except this new one. She's got a very firm style and I can't really imagine her breaking away from it, but she gets you in all sorts of places. I suspect she might be read by women, mostly, but it's neither sentimental nor feminist, I think it's just the way she writes. Anyway, Book City is a fantastic place to go when you don't want to think about other things, unless of course money is one of those things and therefore you can't afford any of the books.

Tonight is a night for distraction. I think I might just go to bed early and start my book, though I have been meaning to read another for quite a bit of time. Oh Hell, it's waited this long, it can wait longer.

Oh, and before I forget, it is very important that I say this, because it is a BIG deal. I began an art project at Mom's last week, or so, of a female figural sculpture, and this week, yesterday, in fact, I finished her ! With some very helpful, if unwanted critiquing from my mother, I changed her proportions and she looks great. Once, I might have gotten pissed off at Mom for uninvited comments and simply given up on the piece, but this time I listened and she was right. And, more importantly, when she balked at my suggestion of polychroming my little figure (that's painting a sculpture, for those who don't know), I did it any way, took that tiny risk and it WORKED ! Even my mother had to admit some surprise and a bit of relief. All the sculpture needs now is some whimsical hair and she'll be done, though effectively, she's already finished. Exciting !

I saw, yesterday, that Hasbro has brought back My Little Pony. I was excited, at first, as these were my favourite toys throughout my childhood, until I took a closer look at them. In general, they remain fairly true to the original, except they've made their eyes bigger (and have cheesey heart highlights in them) and they simply look cheap. The seam around the neck where the head attaches to the body looks BAD. And they're made of cheap-looking plastic, too. Yet another reissue from my past that does not stand up to the original. It makes me love my collection all the more and wish I could put it out on display.

These last few days in Peterborough have been nice, but too short. I've been doing a lot of thinking out here. Discussing and re-evaluating my life. I have no focus. I am deeply driven to succeed, I think it's called ambition, but with no real focus for my energy. I waft from one project to the next, always short-term, low commitment. To take risks is necessary and, yet I cannot bring myself to take the ones that might propell me forward. I am selfish. I get by on intelligence and sheer luck and with the help of friends and family, but what can I really say that I've accomplished? I'm twenty-six and utterly lost.

One of the people I love the most has been transplanted out of my life and that is of my own doing. Was it the right decision? I don't know. I desire stability and security, and at the same time avoid these things, calling it independence, but knowing that at least a part of it is fear. The question, 'which risk is the right one to take?' plagues me. Do I leave? Should I go back to school? Wouldn't that just be another way to avoid real life? I don't know, I doubt that I am actually living 'real' life.

Art is central to my existence. I want desperately to be able to exercise my creativity, to live by it, but I have nothing to fall back on should I fail, and so I struggle with part-time jobs to keep myself afloat and maybe to keep myself spread thinly so that I never have to risk failure. I hate failure, and at the same time, rarely have I truly attempted to succeed. How does one break out of this pattern of mediocrity? I need more time to think. At the same time, I need to work so that I can afford to keep living. Is there a balance, or do I just struggle on as I am and hope that something falls out of the luck tree and into my hands?

Where are the answers to my questions? How the Hell do I find them?

I am about to do something I've never done, personally, but have watched being done many, many times. I am going to put a new stick of RAM (supplied by Rick) into my mother's computer. I think I've come up with a name for her computer, Gaelin. I'm not sure why I want to call it (him) that, but it just now popped into my head and who am I to argue? Anyway, with some luck, I will not be Gaelin's downfall.

Scarlette has gone. She's taking the bright, white tow-truck to the stars, heading for station wagon heaven. Everything has been cleaned out and is waiting for me to sort through it in the garage. I cried again, last night. It's another symbol of growing up and moving on from one stage of life to another. It's kind of like when I stopped going to Rocky Horror when all the cast-members that I knew were retiring. I haven't been back since, but I do miss it. I definitely miss Scarlette. It's not that I mind riding the bus to the Petes, it's an opportunity to read and snooze, or that I -have- to take the TTC anywhere I go in Toronto, or even that I no longer have any choice in the matter. It's nostalgia and fourteen years of my life spent in just that one car. As Tracy said over the summer as we belted ourselves into her, "MMmm, smells just like how Maya's car should smell." And she meant that in a good way. And it's the only car she's ever known us to have. Good bye, Mistress Scarlette, you were the best car, ever.

In other news, I went to A&C's on Sunday and ended up spending the night. Pepper, their cat, was very excited to have a new bed-buddy and A&C were happy to not have Pep waking them at five in the morning. We watched The Two Towers extended version and I liked it much better than I had the theatrical release. I was disappointed that there still wasn't enough Ent, though there was some excellent poetry recited and there was slightly more Entmoot. Also, Eowyn (is that how it's spelled?) was far better developed with less mooning after Aragorn. I was inspired to dream about becoming a stunt rider again, but only for the briefest times as the horses shone on screen.

Carrie, having the day off on Monday, and I went to Yorkdale in the nearly fruitless quest of finding pants for her. Apparently, we are both very a-typically built. It spawned some thought of creating a store that focuses on women of 'weird' design. I also learned just how much weight I really have gained in the last year and it's quite horrifying. I am afraid that some of this is due to my lifestyle, but I think it's safe to say that it is also an effect of two prescriptions that I take. I knew that weight gain could be a significant symptom and was warned that it might be dramatic. Well, it's dramatic. I'm not sure what to do about the meds. I would rather not stop using them as they have been otherwise very beneficial to my well-being.

Anyway, quite amazingly, I still feel some pain from dancing like a maniac on Saturday night. In my elbows, of all places. I really must get out and go dancing more often. Nicole and I, following our dancemania, both agreed that we needed to get out and doing things more often. Not necessarily together, but just out and having a life again. Like dancing. It's just something I think I'm going to have to do for myself because I need it.

Tonight I am supposed to go dancing with Nicole - there's a Depeche Mode tribute tonight at the Reverb - only she's at Ritual tonight in Hamilton and because her home number is pooched, I can't get in touch with her to work out a meeting place or time. I suppose that I'll just go to the club around 10:30pm and hope to meet her there. I tried calling her at the store today, but she wasn't in, no doubt preparing for Ritual. Oh well. It a bunch of Depeche Mode fans - it's not like I'll be alone even if I don't go with anyone.

Last night, I went to dinner and a movie with Rick. It was nice, laid back and natural. We ate at Tortilla Flats down on Queen before going to the Paramount to see The Matrix: Revolutions. Dinner was very satifying. I had my usual, chicken quesadillas with a side of guacamole, while Rick had the enchiladas. We split a calamari appetiser and shared some deep-fried ice cream as well. It was very tasty. We went to Chapters to kill some time before the film and I was VERY good about not buying anything. The flick was being shown on the IMAX screen, which was nice, since it has such nice clarity of detail and excellent sound. I went in with an open mind, I figured Revolutions couldn't possibly be as bad as Reloaded was. I was right. I thoroughly enjoyed the concluding episode of the trilogy, but I could have easily seen the whole thing be a two film series, rather than three. I found the likely unintentional Christian symbolism very amusing. Sure, some of it was intended; however, I am fairly certain that some of it was deemed to look 'right' or 'cool' and the artistic directers never even noticed that all this imagery looked right because it had a long history in visual iconography. See? My Art History degree IS useful.

Anyway, following the movie, we took a long walk along Queen and stopped for a quick drink at The Ancient. Rick said, as we walked up from the Paramount, "it's over, isn't it?" My answer was simple, but not lacking in reflection. I said that it was. I really have gone and thought about things and I just don't want to be in a relationship right now. Nothing has changed from before, I still love Rick, I still enjoy his company. If anything, I have come to respect him more and certainly did not take his company for granted. That was the reason for the long walk. We needed to talk. I cried, of course, but I am so impressed by his maturity through all this. If anything, he has shown himself more mature than me. All this and he's four days into quitting smoking, too. It seems my needing time to think about things also has allowed him to re-evaluate himself as well. I am very proud of him and know that he will succeed.

In other news, there isn't much other news. I'm finishing up some projects begun a long time ago and generally taking it easy. I'm trying to think of what to wear tonight. It's not supposed to be cold, so I might consider a skirt, but I much prefer dancing in pants. I'd like to wear my cute pink pvc tie, but I don't know that I've got a shirt here with which it will match. Damn those impulse purchases. I get a discount to the cover charge if I wear something DM related, though, so I guess I'll wear one of my shirts. I'm not really in the mood right now, but I'll probably change that with some carefully selected albums played before I go.

My mother's computer is unacceptably slow. It defeats the purpose of using windows when there isn't enough to keep more than one large program running at once. I'm trying to work with Photoshop and nothing is functioning at anything close to an acceptable slowness. Well, I guess I know what I'm getting Mom for Hanukkah: RAM. I just don't know if I can handle working from her house at this rate. Perhaps Hanukkah will come early this year. It's five days earlier than Christmas this year. I get kind of irritated when they come together, for as many know, mine is a multifaith house and though Hanukkah is by no means comparable in importance to Christmas, I really hate that the former gets swallowed up by the ta-dum of the latter.

Anyway, no further news about Scarlette. The garage hasn't called us back about having her wrecked yet. I'm not looking forward to it. Tomorrow, before I come back to Toronto - *gasp* on the Greyhound - I will visit the garage and take out the things that need removing. I wonder if the window clings will come off without leaving their images behind on the glass. You have no idea how upset I am over all this. A---- didn't believe me when I told him that I cried when I got the news. You know, it's not so much the fact that I'm forced to take the transit everywhere I go now, or that I have to take the *gasp* Greyhound, or even that at least Scarlette provided me with an alternate option to most transportational needs. It is about her. I love my car. I wanted to drive her until I turned thirty. I used to joke that I inteded to drive her until she started to appreciate in value again.

So, I'd write happy knews about Tootles the mouse, only after the brutal night that was suffered at the paws of cats (Willi facters significantly here), or at least the horrors of having a night of harrassment that nearly had the cage on the floor, he suffered what we think was a stroke. I'm very sorry to have had this happen. I really liked Tootles. I know that for a while, the food was a favourite. He might never have tasted broccoli, lettuce, cheese, or apple. Moral of the story? Keep single-minded, annoying clever cats away from rodents in cages. So, now there's a cage with all the fixings and no mouse. I'm trying to persuade my mother that feeder mice are VERY cheap and while not as fluffy and adorable as Tootles was, they will at least fill a void. The question remains, though, where to put the cage where specifically Willi cannot get it.

Okay, on a positive note, I have been doing some art. I'm working on a new Sculpy clay figure. She's shaping up nicely and I have grand plans for her. She's already way ahead of the last figure I did several months back. I plan to make her a little outfit and paint her and give her hair. It's just another way to channel creative energies. And ultimately, it's more enjoyable than fighting with Mom's computer. Also, I thought I'd mention, I have an Elle-Jay now, for less insightful commentary - and where people can leave their own comments. Hah.

Today has been a day of mixed emotions. For the bad news, which is really more life affecting than the good news, Scarlette has died. The good news is that my mother and I brought a new pet into our lives, Tootles the mouse.

For almost fifteen years, our beloved Subaru has speedily rolled the highways of Ontario, Quebec and New York State, providing us an enjoyable, secure, very manual ride. Only in the last year has she suffered the effects of age and giving me a little more grief than I was accustomed to. I came of age in this car. I learned to drive at her wheel. I've gotten her stuck places, gotten in trouble in her... My first (and, so far, only,) speeding ticket was had on the 115 to Peterborough on one of those hills where you just don't see it coming. I think I'd been doing about 40 over the limit at the time. Right up at the end, driving along the 401 last night, I was doing about 135 in the left hand lane through Whitby when she politely informed me that something was wrong with a bad smell and the heater going dead. I knew at the side of the road, even before the tow-truck driver arrived, this time was different. There was an appology in the way she died, still with enough kick in her battery to provide me with music while I waited.

Today, when the garage called and said that she was going to need a major repair, the mechanic suggesting to my mom that it probably wasn't worth it, I wasn't surprised. He wished this had happened before I had her outfitted with new tires, and I have to agree there, but it had to happen sooner or later. In my two years and a bit of having her all to myself, I became even more attached. Everyone that knows me knows I love my Scarlette. It's not surprising that I cried. I love my car. She has become an extension of me. I drove her to the barn and back so that she reeked for years of horses. I packed her up full for trips to and from the cottage. Only last week I was loading and unloading hundreds of stakes and signs following the election. In fact, I was planning to touch up her rust spots with paint and vaccuum her out sometime this week.

I only wish she were small enough to be burried in the garden like Placi was. I love my car.

So, on now to the happier news, albeit news of much smaller stature. Tootles the mouse entered our lives when Mom went down into the furnace room to prepare it for a visit by the furnace man. This small ball of fur with a short fieldmouse tail came tootling (hence the name) right up to her. When the furnace man arrived, the mouse was still darting about, obviously trapped in the room. It probably got in through the fieldstone foundation and slid down the sheer concrete walls, unable to climb back out. The furnace man, apparently unable to work with a loose mouse in the room with him, covered the tame little thing with a bucket. When he and Mom were settling up after he'd finished his job, he jokingly said, "Well, now all you have to do is put it in a cage and start feeding it."

Our intention had been to put it out in the back compost heap where there would be tasty things to eat all winter and lots of warm shelter (yes, it really is THAT cute a mouse). We certainly weren't interested in killing it. Then I said as Mom and I discussed how to procede with Operation Mouse, "It's nice. We'll put it out and then Chester can eat it." Moments later, Mom had left, heading straight for the pet store in order to buy a small rodent cage. I watched the mouse in the bucket as it enjoyed the muslix we'd provided for it and as soon as Mom returned with the cage, we set about making a home for the little thing.

It has died and gone to heaven, at least metaphorically. I has alternated in sleeping in its food dish, eating its food, tootling about the cage exploring everything, and scratching itself on top of its little wooden house. Willi is utterly spellbound by Tootles and has approached the cage from many angles including sitting down upon it. Tootles, for its part (we haven't sexed it yet) pays Willi almost no heed whatsoever and even deigns to fall asleep right in front of Willi's nose. So, anyway, Tootles the mouse is a lovely addition to my mother's house, where it will remain and hopefully live out a long and mousy life full of seeds, clean shavings, and security.

Yesterday, I went to the Royal without the free tickets that might have been supplied by someone if only I knew who that would be. Anyway, I met Rick at Bathurst Station and we took the Red Rocket down to the CNE. Rick very generously paid for my ticket and much of the food I ate, since I'm rather light on cash at the moment. I'm waiting for some cheques to come in the near future, but boy, the waiting sucks. Anyway, I did not spend as much time as I usually do pulling on the lips of the draught horses and it might be why I didn't feel too depressed at the end. I only molested a couple of horses, who were MOST co-operative about the whole thing, spending more time watching some Belgians prepare for a six-horse hitch competition. We also watched a demonstration of the Paso Fino horse and the cavalcade of dogs, which included a most humourous doggie obstacle course. Mom would have been very pleased, her favourite breed of dog (Nova Scotia Duck Toller) did very well. I spent a lot of time enjoying the goats and poulty/fowl and we did a lot of wandering through the antiques market.

I was eyeing some nice examples of early Canadiana at one booth, but rather than help me, the booth owner decided to hit up an older couple who weren't really looking that closely at his stuff. You see, while he might have actually made a contact with me, because I was dressed in a tatty leather jacket and hooded sweatshirt rather than expensive knit co-ordinates and pressed slacks, he got no where with the couple. They humoured him and went on their way. Meanwhile, I was pulling out drawers and checking veneers. By the time it dawned on him that I was actually interested in what he had, I was no longer interested in his wares. I hate antiques dealers. We did spend a lot of time looking at the used books, too. Rick found one example from the late 1800s that had the original bookmark in it. The bookmark had likely not been moved in many decades because it had completely discoloured the pages around it. Also, I found a map dated to the mid-to-late 1500s. It was of Bohemia (modern Czech Republic), but if it had been of the Low Countries or England I might have been seriously disappointed that I couldn't afford it.

Rick and I did enjoy the food, naturally. A big hit every year is the perogies/cabbage rolls stand. They're just so darn good. Also, he had the lamb-on-a-bun while I tried the bbq'd sirloin beef-on-a-bun. Very beefy ! We finished up with apple dumplings baked fresh and prepared before your eyes. They came with ice cream and were very delicious. Of course, there were also beer nuts as we walked about. It was a very pleasant day spent with Rick, who I don't spend a lot of time with these days. Of course, that has a lot to do with the election that has now ended, but also because of other things. Anyway, it was really nice.

In other news, I have been doing some thinking. The other day, Stew said, "I have a brief story and a question for you." This is the story. I'm fairly certain you can guess the question. I am sorely tempted to say yes, but I have a couple very good reasons why I think no is the better answer. First of all, there are two cats already living in this apartment. Two very demanding cats. There isn't really the room for a third, even if she is going to be small. Willi and Tobe have only recently started to get along and I'm not comfortable bringing in a third cat just when everything is going so well. Is Stew willing to foot the bill for two cats to have their shots every year? I insist on keeping cats up-to-date, especially since both Willi and Tobe have escaped into the outside where they could encounter other creatures. Beyond this, the kitten is utterly adoptable. She will make someone else a lovely pet, I'm fairly sure. As much as I would like a kitten, I just don't think it's a good idea. *sigh* Stew may hate me forever.

On the plus side of things, I did some dishes today, so that ought to make him a little happy.

My dastardly, bastardly, poopoo-headed roommate, Stew, who otherwise has been a very successful addition to my life, has done something SO HEINOUS that he deserves severe and frequent mocking. And shunning.

He erased a phone message in which someone was offering me three, yes, THREE, tickets to the Royal. THREE ! Not only has he gotten the name of said person wrong, but he then ERASED the message, assured in his spectacular memory. WHICH FAILED !!!

It also doesn't help that said caller DID NOT LEAVE THEIR PHONE NUMBER !

*kicks Stew*

So, if you still have those tickets and want to give them to me, I was planning on going tomorrow. CALL ME AGAIN !

And the moral of the story is, always leave your number, just in case, and if it's actually an important message... DO NOT ERASE IT !

Bastard.

Things worth mentioning that I haven't gotten around to mentioning.

First of all, and, aside from the election, this is the most exciting thing that's taken place; Rick shaved off his hair. Holy cow, it's all gone, and it is SUCH an improvement. All this time, I never quite managed to come out and say, "Rick, I can't stand your hair," but now that it's gone, I have expressed my great enthusiasm. Hurray ! And, Rick's given me the go-ahead to help him create a new look. I'm so pleased, you have no idea.

Also, despite the election craziness, I somehow managed to find the time to finish two books and read another from beginning to end. I finished The Return of the King, minus the appendix bumpf at the back. Also, I finally completed the impressive history of the Medici family that I bought in Detroit. And, between the two, I picked up Oscar Wilde's The Picture of Dorian Gray, which was absolutely terrific. I'd seen the black and white film version when I was much younger and remembered liking it and the book was as good and better. With the exception of the class distinctions and lifestyles of the latter half of the nineteenth century, it is fairly timeless. It is as relevant today as it was when it was written. It is also quite amazing that Wilde took great criticism and caused an uproar for the homosexual undertones of the novella. It's really quite tame by modern standards.

Yesterday saw much of Ontario receiving its first snowfall of the season. While it didn't last on the ground in either Toronto (from what I understand) or Peterborough, it certainly piled up in other regions. It makes me happy. I love snow. There were gale-force winds accompanying it, of course, which caused massive power outages all over the place due to falling trees. Willi insisted on going out in the messy weather (since she has garden privaleges at Mom's) and the wind had her terribly excited. She bounded all about in the near dark, crashing through leaves and scrabbling up the mountain ash. Things would have been near perfect had I come out to play as well, however; not nearly as impervious to the weather as Willi apparently is, I declined and eventually she got lonely and came in.

God, that was exciting, wasn't it?

...

It's over. What do you do when it's all over? I'm going into the office later in order to find out the answer to that question. Will there be a job? Will there be something... or is it just tear-down the office and get on with whatever you'd been doing when everything started? It's daunting. It's scary. It's also sad.

Not sad because we won. Yes, we won, and it is sweet. It is sad because it's over.

So, like I said, we won. It was terrifying watching the results tick ever upwards on the television at the bar. One hundred votes separating isn't nearly enough spread to keep a person breathing steadily. It didn't help that City TV kept mussing up the order of ward results, but each time we saw Ward 18, the spread was just a tiny bit greater. Other wards were called at 52%, but ours wasn't called until much later because it was so close. In the end, we took it by a few hundred votes, but it was enough. And it was so sweet. I almost passed out when the checkmark appeared next to A----'s name and then when he arrived about a half hour later, we hugged each other so hard and kissed each other and I started to cry. It was okay, because he was crying too.

I turned to K--- and she let me bawl all over her. It was amazing. I cannot begin to describe the feelings I had last night. Elation? Perhaps. Exhileration? Some of that, sure. Inebriation? Definitely.

And now... What happens next?

So much going on... no time to write !


Discworld: Which Ankh-Morpork City Watch Character are YOU?
brought to you by Quizilla


Monday, November 10th is ELECTION DAY across Ontario.

DON'T FORGET TO VOTE. Municipal elections have the most direct effect on people's lives.

So VOTE !!!

VOTE !!!

Holy crap am I busy ! If you see something swirling by you at a high speed, it might be me trying to have a social moment. I've done so many neat things this week that trying to fit them into a single post would be nearly impossible. I finally saw the classic silent film Nosferatu at the ROM last Friday in honour of Hallowe'en. I went with four of my ROM girls after we finished our shifts and then went for drinks after. It was a nice break, having the night off and all. Nosferatu was quite enjoyable, especially since it was accompanied by the Toronto Symphonietta and two soloists. Prior to that, I'd gone with Stew to Sierra's house to paint her face and turn her into a vampiress for trick-or-treating. That was enormous fun, though time sort of ran short at the end. Only a six year old (and some more zealous goths) would look at their reflection in a mirror and exclaim at the sight of their white face, dark, shadowed eye make-up, and 'blood' drenched lips, "Oh, I look bee-ooo-tiful !"

I got a couple days off in the Petes as well, which was very necessary as I was about to head into the busiest week of the year. It's the week before Election day and it has been unbelievably busy. Anyway, home cooking and big, deep bathtub aside, I had a very nice time visiting Mom. We saw Whale Rider at the Muse film festival showing on Sunday. Every year, there is one film that really stands out for me. Last year it was The Fast Runner, the year before that it was After Life. This year it is Whale Rider. It was amazing. It cannot be described beyond saying that it is a glorious retelling of an ancient Maori creation legend. GO. GO !!! You will not be disappointed.

Anyway, I have to work at the ROM tomorrow morning so I can't even begin to understand why I'm writing this, but I guess it gives me the moral high ground since I just left a smug comment in Tanya's log. Please don't expect to hear anything from me again until at least Tuesday, but probably more likely later next week than that. I will probably want to avoid the world for a few days once the election is over.

I have found myself a quote:
"6/5 People Have Trouble With Fractions"

Yep, that's me in a nutshell. Anyway, I do not have much to add, my life has not taken an unexpected twist in the last six hours that I feel I must discuss, but I thought it was worth noting that I have updated my Deviant Art gallery. It is a good place for the work that is neither fantasy, nor sci-fi, not that there isn't plenty of the former in my DA gallery, but if you hadn't checked it out, there are some keen photographs and I've added three illustrations that I am quite proud of. I will be updating my other galleries in the near future, likely, following the Election.

DON'T FORGET TO VOTE.

And then vote for real.

Wow, the best way to spend a day - ever ! Driving all the way across the fucking city to pick something up only to have the place you're going be closed when you get there. Did I mention it was through mid-day/early rush-hour traffic? Boy oh boy. Anyway, I was running an errand for the office and it turned out I wasn't late, no, the company just has been letting it's staff go early this week because of all the overtime they've been putting in. Crikey. I missed them by as little as seven minutes. I kid you not. I got the feeling that they were doing their impersonation of "the Flintstones" when the airhorn sounds, they dropped what they were doing, slid down their dinosaurs and went home.

Last night I had dinner with "Auntie" Karen. Initially planning to go for Middle Eastern food, we changed our minds and went to Tortilla Flats for some comforting and delicious texmex. We discussed many things, some related to work, some related to play, and some related to things utterly unrelated. It was good fun. Karen is a smart lady. Also, she is very funny and helps me to view situations from all sides, including the humourous.

When I got home, some hours later, as I did go into the Office for an hour or so following dinner, I proceded to use my time wisely by searching for jobs on the Internet and downloading, er I mean borrowing for a short time only before returning, lots of the music of the Muppets and Sesame Street. Nerd power ! I picked up some real classics, too, like "Doin' the Pigeon". In the end, I went to bed much later than I had anticipated because I was enjoying my new music collection to the fullest.

So, Tobe is a disgusting cat. Not only did she recently drag her poopy ass all over the living room floor and rug leaving figures that a champion ice skater would be envious of, but last night she puked all over my bedroom. Thanks, Tobe, we appreciate it, really.

Questions copied from Nicole's live journal.

1-If you could go back in time, where would you go?
So many places...
Late Republican/Early Imperial Rome (anywhere in that period)
16th Century Japan
Late 12th Century Low-Countries
Middle Kingdom Egypt
Late Cretaceous Period (I wanna know how the extinction happened)

2-If you could have tea with anyone (dead, alive, fictional) who would it be?
First of all, if I've got a say in it, I'd rather have coffee.
Johnny Depp, Queen Elizabeth, Mary Wollstonecraft, Botticelli, Pieter Brueghel the Elder, Julius Caesar

3-What was the last book you bought?
The Wisdom of Nature: The healing powers and symbolism of plants and animals in the Middle Ages
The House of Medici: Its rise and fall

4-What is in your cd player right now?
"mistakes that are still fresh in my mind" Chickdrummer
"The best of the song books" Ella Fitzgerald
"Violator" Depeche Mode

5-What are you currently wearing?
My blue, fleece nightgown witht the polar bears on its front.

6-What is your favourite poem?
"Kubla Khan" Samuel Taylor Coleridge
"The Wife of Bath's Tale" Geoffrey Chaucer

7-Make a wish...what is it?
I have a lot of wishes, but someone once told me that if I spoke them, they would not come true.

8-What are you most grateful for?
My Mother.

9-What part of your personality are you secretly proud of?
Secretly? My strength of character.
Guess it's not a secret anymore.

10-What part would you like to change?
The feelings of guilt.

11-What is your totem animal?
I don't know for sure. Does it have to exist? If not, then a dragon, for sure.

12-If you were a tree, what would you be?
I don't know. Holly or Apple.... though Pine seems to resinate. Get it? Resin?

13-Name 3 places you would like to visit.
Egypt, the UK (in depth), Gabon

14-What part of your body do you like the most?
My mind.

15-Have you ever experienced synchronicity? If so, which was your favourite experience?
I have often experienced it. I have no favourite, it is merely a fact of life.

Before I run off and vanish into the Camp office for many hours, I thought I would provide a wee update. Of course, yesterday I attended the funeral of Ceceil's son, Tristan. It was way out in Scarborough which meant nearly an hour in my car braving mid-morning traffic. It was held in a large Anglican church because their home church, which is a more fundamentalist gospel church simply wasn't big enough. There were probably a few hundred people in attendance and I think about a third of these were students from Tristan's highschool who were released in order to attend. I didn't know Tristan even a little, never having met him, but I do know Ceceil fairly well and I like and respect her. I think she was very touched that I came out for this. She might have a Hell of a time getting me out to OPSEU meetings, but when it really counts, I am there.

The service was presided (is that the right word?) over by Father Scott, the Anglican minister and he invited three of the so-and-sos of the gospel church to join him. Father Scott was lovely, very articulate, very sensitive; two of the men from the other church were also well spoken and generous in their speaking, but the third, "Preacher" Dan, really creeped me out. When he referred to the Christians of the gospel church, there was no question that he meant that they were the only 'real' Christians. Father Scott's jaw visibly tightened at that and also when Dan said, not mincing his words, that the only way to salvation was through Jesus' love as taught through his church's sermons. His not-very-well disguised final message was that everyone else was pretty much going to burn for eternity without seeing the light. Holy shit. This is a funeral, NOT one of his sermons, and lots of people there were devout in their own ways, and did not need to be told they were doomed. They were there to offer support and to show their love for the deceased. And above all, what made this guy think it was okay to slam other Christian sects while the whole funeral was being hosted very generously by an Anglican parish?

Other than Dan and the nastiness that ruined all the nice things he had previously said about Tristan, the funeral was really nice. It was the longest funeral I have ever attended (no mass was observed, either). Many of Tristan's family and friends spoke, including some classmates that read poetry they'd written, two who sang a gospel duet, and most amazingly, one classmate who played the steel-pan drum. You have not experienced anything until you witness a sixteen-year-old girl, dressed in black, tears running down her cheeks, playing out the congregation with Amazing Grace on a single steel-pan drum. There wasn't a dry eye in the church. It was awesome.

Anyway, I was only aware of one other ROM staffer at the funeral, Julian Kingston, head of Education (Ceceil's department), which was sort of shocking, but I hope many others attended the viewings held the previous two days. I hope. From there I went to the museum to work.

And now for something completely different, or at least not recently seen: neat quizzes that have nothing to do with my sexuality (whoa...).

You are the High Renaissance and absolutely
bursting with ideas. Sometimes, your
versatility is overwhelming and you have to be
careful to do justice to all of your talents.
You love the artistic world, culture and
classical civilization.

****** What Time Period are You? ******
brought to you by Quizilla


Samuel Clements, otherwise known as Mark Twain, is
your kind of writer. Like you, he has a deep
connection to his past and a lively sense of
humor.


Who is your Literary Soulmate?
brought to you by Quizilla


And, since we all know that I come up with Earth and dragons a lot in tests, etc., have a vulnerability to coffee, and I have been known to be utterly intimidating, this is just... weird.

Become a God or Goddess. by zerogirl
Name:
God/Goddess of	Fear
Element:	Earth
Animal Companion:	Dragon
Weak against	Coffee
Weapon:	Dagger
Created with quill18's MemeGen!

...
EDIT @ 5:12pm... see bottom.


I love concord grapes. Other than pumpkin pie they are probably my favourite seasonal fruit. Yum. Sure, they turn my fingers and tongue kind of purple, and they're full of seeds, but my gosh are they ever delicious ! I bought some for the Camp office yesterday and I am pleased to see that the basket is nearly empty. Speaking of seasonal foods, last night Sierra and her Mom, Carrie, came over for pumpkin carving. Sierra enjoyed sorting the seeds from the goop and frequently showed off her orange, slimey hands. We roasted the seeds in the oven and that was a treat I hadn't enjoyed in many a year. I think I was still in single digits the last time I ate home-roasted pumpkin seeds. Yummy !

Anyway, I had an interview today. Actually, I had two interviews. The first one was at an employment agency, the second was at the employer. Both went well, though I'm not sure I did terribly well on the agency's data-entry test, but it was a ponderous, old system quite unlike any data form I've ever filled out. I must have done well enough in order to be sent on to the prospective employer. Both interviews went very well, I have to say, though I am still waiting to hear back as to whether I'll have a paying job to attend on Monday. I actually ENJOYED the interview with the employer and somewhat inconceivably one of the interviewers actually worked with A---- and B------ on the campaign back in Montreal when they were students. The world is small. Very, very small. Hopefully this little bit of synchronisity will help me.

In other, less exciting news, much sadder news, my union local president, Ceceil, at the ROM, just lost her teen-aged son. I'll be attending the funeral tomorrow morning. I don't know any details, only that he was about sixteen years old, and he died this past Saturday. How horrible for her. I can't attend the viewing tonight and missed it yesterday, so the funeral it is. That reminds me, I must buy a card for her.


EDIT: So, I just phoned the agency and spoke to the woman who interviewed me (the agency owner) and she's totally irritated with the employer because after the interview that I nailed, they informed her that there was an internal (no shit) referral who they will interview tomorrow. For the love of Pete, why the heck didn't they disclose this little tidbit of information earlier? As the agency owner said, "They say nothing about the internal when I send them two so-so candidates, but when I send them the perfect candidate? It's not fair to me and it's certainly not fair to you. And I mean 'perfect', okay?" Ya, okay. It's the curse of my life. So, maybe after the funeral, when I'm at the ROM, I'll hear from her and the news will be good.

Waking up at 6:30 in the morning is a painful process for someone like me, especially when one is awake until 2am the night before. I had not intended to be awake so long, but my brain was just so full of thoughts and musings that sleep was thwarted. When my alarm went off, I was utterly confused. It was dark in my room (depressing) and Willi was there lying against my hip and I just couldn't understand why my alarm was going off in the middle of the night (so I thought). Then I realised that my stereo was talking and I knew that, indeed, it was time to rise. I think we turn back our clocks next weekend so at least I won't be getting up in darkness. Instead, I'll be leaving the office in darkness. Joy.

The cats have been getting along very well recently, though there have been some wee fisticuffs from time to time. They play together sometimes. What used to be antagonising before has become a game, such as the door game. This is played with either one of them behind the door and the other on the reverse side, both of them staring at each other through the little crack between door and wall. They push their paws under the door and thump at each other and then, once in a while, who ever is behind the door leaps out and they start a new game. The chasing game. Initially, they would whip each other up by running up and down the hall, but not after each other, rather, first one would go, then the other moments later. Now they actually chase each other and mostly, it doesn't end in hissing.

I think I'm going to go home for a nap before beginning another run of work here in the evening. I'm flat pooped. POOPED.

After much tumult, the Camp office is now quiet. I'm doing the work I most often do, which is about as exciting as it ever is - that is to say, not overmuch. A few people are out on Sign Crew, but apparently most everyone else is not keen on staying late in the office after 8pm on a Friday. I can't imagine why. I was also at the ROM this morning/early afternoon. I've been given a four-hour shift at the front desk for each Friday of this month. I also have yet to invoice for the contract I was working on earlier this month and before I went to New York.

I was invited to my friend Megan's Alice in Wonderland theme party tonight, but I phoned with my regrets. I shall have very little in way of a life for the next three-and-a-half weeks. I am fairly excited that tomorrow I get to play D&D at A&C's house, but they're all going to a movie before hand and I will be... putting up signs. I had these great intentions toward a Hallowe'en costume, but I probably won't get around to that. Maybe I'll just stay at home and hand out candy to the kids. The thing is, my neighbourhood kind of sucks for costumes. Most of the kids come around in pre-fab, cheap, ill-fitting costumes. I'm spoiled, you see, having grown up where I did, in a community where parents' made their children's costumes by hand. I do get to turn Sierra into a vampire, though, which should be fun.

I'm rambling somewhat. Probably because it's so hard to focus on anything but work. When all this is over, I plan to sleep for a full 24 hours. I also intend to have a long, bubbly bath for most of a day. I am entertaining the idea of going back to New York to help Alfred clean up his apartment, as well; paint it, clean it, organise it. He could use the help and I really like staying with him in Manhattan. All the plans I'm making that relate to a social life pretty much have to take place after November 10 (Election Day). For instance, Rick finally came through on a promise that is something like two-and-a-half years old - Lion King tickets. Better late than never, I suppose. *laugh* Anyway, big thanks to him for that.

My mother's close friend, Ray, is moving away from Peterborough tomorrow. He's leaving for Deep River, north of Ottawa, in order to be closer to his daughter and her family. I said goodbye to him on Sunday night when I was there for Thanksgiving. I think he is both excited and sad to be making a fresh start. I know my mom is a bit sad that he's leaving because they spend so much time together. I will miss him, too. I wish him lots of luck and fully expect him to visit both in the Petes and at the Cottage.

I am sitting in the Camp office and honestly, I thought it had been several days since my last posting because my sleep schedule has been so weird over the last few days that my internal clock is all confused. Yesterday night was Super Secret Sign Ninja Adventure Night. I gave Stew no choice but to come along when I bounded up the stairs in order to pick up some clothing that was more appropriate to the evening's events. We put signs together and more signs and then we broke into crews and packed up various vehicles including Scarlette. I was put on crew (Team G-Force/Team Discovery Channel) with B----- and R----- and Stew. Our job, that we chose to accept, was to install signs throughout a specific area of the Ward. Rick, who also came for Sign Night (and we thought Hallowe'en was fun...), was put on a pedestrian team with Lauren, a very fun chick. Pedestrians were responsible for the small signs while vehicle crews were responsible for the massive signs that required long stakes to be hammered into the ground. There were three vehicles out and at least another couple foot teams and we got a few hundred signs posted for sure. I know that we did 45 large signs and slightly more little signs for David Miller who is running for mayor (and who is a very honest guy with tons of integrity *hint*).

It's terribly exciting to go out in the middle of the night (Midnight Madness, in fact) to pound signs into people's lawns. Having never done it before, I was not disappointed and actually had more fun than I already thought I would have. Stew had a lot more fun than he'd expected, too, and we were all quite hyper as we set out. By the end, people were getting punchy, threatening each other with power tools and finally getting quiet as the adventure drew to a close. The weather was not the best, being a bit drizzly at times and fairly chilly, but it was not enough to dampen our spirits. Also, it was great to see that we really out signed our rival, only seeing one crew posting for her. There were some minor injuries, including B------- smacking his head on Scarlette's trunk and cutting it open. I got to clean and dress his wound. How very dramatic.

Okay, that's enough of that. I have broken my rule of posting about campaign stuff, but it was just too much fun to skip. Lauren told me today that she had a blast walking around with Rick and thought he was a really cool guy (see? I'm not the only one who thinks so, Rick). They couldn't find a couple of streets and ended up circling the Cadbury factory something like three times. You should know how that puppy smells. Mmmmmm, good stuff. Anyway, it's time to finish up what I was doing before I started this.

After the amazing Indian Summer we had over the Thanksgiving weekend, autumn has now arrived. It is dreary outside, cloudy and wet, and all I want to do is go back to bed. I can feel hibernation mode setting upon me. Where there was colour on the trees, now it is on the ground, the intense gusting wind and rain speeding the fall of leaves. It's cold now, too, reminding us all that November, the most depressing month of the year, is soon to be upon us.

And, much in the spirit of rain/snow on Hallowe'en, tonight I'm on election sign crew and you can bet I'll be wearing layers.

I've spent some time today (at Mom's) trying to make her Internet connexion work. Okay, the connexion is fine, it's her email that is doing bizarre things, but she tends to call it all the same thing. I -think- I have solved the problem, but now I'm waiting for the various test emails to arrive in my account. Somewhere along the way, they disappear. I am still inclined to blame Hotmail, since I recently received several of the same email over the course of three days. One never knows, though. Sympatico is often worth blaming, too, so it's a toss-up for now.

Anyway, I do not have a lot to say, though I did have a nice time on Monday night at Julie's house for Tania's birthday, but I just can't be bothered to write about it. I'm just too sleepy.

A few people have noted that my journal has not been updated. This was not due to a lack of trying, however; only wiggly connexions at the Camp Office prevented me from succeding and I hadn't copied the text elsewhere so it was lost. Tonight, I am not doing anything at the office, nor am I unduly bogged down in work - I'm working, just not with a deadline looming out of the dark night before me. And it is dark, isn't it? Despite the glorious weather over the last few days, the city is swallowed into blackness just past 7pm. How very sad. Soon enough, we'll all be winding back our clocks and then it will be all the darker.

Regardless of the brightness outside my door, I've been working my butt off on various things since my return from New York. What is it that they say? No sleep for the wicked? I am not sure I am exactly wicked, but I am wickedly busy. I've been jumping from the ROM to the office, back home (where I work) and then back to the office on a regular basis. I've been out canvassing in the evening and at the crack of dawn. I am actually making some money doing this, too, which doesn't hurt - thank God for contract work. It does certainly eat into personal time, though, and my whole life now pretty much revolves around campaign socialising and events. I am enjoying it very much, even if my stress level has sky-rocketed. I was speaking to Nick last night and we discussed the merits of me going for counselling, if for no other reason than to learn some coping mechanisms for everything that is going on.

Anyway, I should get on to talking about New York in all its wonderfulness and sadness. The first three days that I was there have sort of blurred as they were the hardest ones to get through. I took the red-eye bus to NYC and arrived just at the beginning of rush-hour. In retrospect, perhaps I should have taken a cab to Alfred's apartment, but I was too tired to care and it's not like I'm afraid of the subway. We went for breakfast upon my arrival near to 7:30am and then I took a nap for a few hours. It was hard sleeping in the room and bed that used to belong to Robert and for the first few nights, I cried myself to sleep. When I awoke from my nap, Don, Robert's good friend had arrived and once I was dressed and ready, the three of us walked to the funeral parlour. There we met friends and family over a few hours with a break for dinner. People kept saying, "Oh, doesn't he look good," in response to seeing Robert laid out in the casket. I politely agreed with them, but the whole time I kept thinking, "He doesn't look anything like how I remember him... Actually, he looks dead."

The following day was the funeral held at the family church. It was a nice service, I suppose, but I didn't find it particularly moving. I guess I rarely do at the funerals themselves. It is at the wakes, viewings, shivas, etc., when everyone is interacting and reminising that I feel the pangs. Or, if they play Ave Maria. One thing I learned is that if it isn't Christmas, I do not know any of the songs. Most people were singing along with the hymns and prayers, and there I was, front pew, thinking that somehow my choir education was lacking because it did not include enough non-Christmas music. Nevermind that it was a secular choir in the first place.

Following the funeral, once everyone had hugged and cried and said their good byes outside of the church, Don, Alfred and I went around the corner for breakfast. There, due to the stress, Alfred had a seizure. Now, I want to set something straight here. There is this weird myth about how New Yorkers ignore each other and what not, but when Alfred collapsed, three different people immediately came to his (and our) aid. One called the paramedics immediately, one sprang up to get him some orange juice, and one helped us get Alfred outside and make him more comfortable. Then there were several others who just buzzed around trying to be helpful, both inside the diner and out on the street. Sadly, having seen things happen on the streets of Toronto where I have been the only one to react (like when someone hit a homeless man in the street and drove away), I know that if any city deserves a reputation for ignoring those in need, it's definitely NOT New York. Anyway, returning to the story, I got to see upper Manhattan disappear behind us from the back of an ambulance.

All was well once Alfred was dosed with his anti-seizure medication and had some food put in him. Don and I took him home and watched him to make sure he was alright and when it was clear that he was going to be just fine, Don went home. The following day, Friday, I did things around the house, including cleaning the bathroom from top to bottom. I simply aimed to be helpful and supportive, but Alfred spent most of the day on the phone talking to well-wishers and friends. A neighbour in his building brought him some dinner and as I went out to buy suplies, people in the hall and on the stoop asked me how he was doing.

Anyway, I was in New York until the following Wednesday, and I didn't spend my whole time in the apartment or with Don and Alfred. Originally I was meaning to come home on the Sunday night, then I extended it to the Tuesday morning in order to appease Gina, my half-sister who couldn't visit with me on the weekend like I had hoped. Finally, I was persuaded by Don to stay one more day after that in order to be around when Alfred had a series of tests run at the hospital. They would have kept me around longer had they their way, but I was serving as a distraction from the real business of getting on with things and dealing with the pain. Besides, I do have responsibilities here in Toronto, not the least of them, my cat.

I visited with the younger of my two half-sisters, Nicole, on the Saturday. She, her grandmother, and I wandered around the not entirely charming area of Brooklyn known as Flatbush and De Kalb (not pronounced as I thought as "dah cob", but as "dee khay-lbh"). Now, this did involve a trip to Junior's (home of the world's greatest cheesecake, which I sadly did not have room enough to try), and the city has been trying to fix things up a bit planting bushes and trees in what had been a desolate land of concrete and more concrete. I helped Nicole shop for school uniform shirts, picking out a gorgeous one that she went on to where first thing on Monday after our visit. I dragged her into shoe stores, of which there are many across all of New York, and we made fun of the really weird 80s-inspired trash-rock stiletto boots and other things. Nicole does have a good sense of humour even if she is often too shy to actually open her mouth. One utterly remarkable thing about her are her eyes. She inherited Papa's amazing almond-shaped eyes with the thick, long, black eyelashes, except unlike Gina, myself or even Papa himself, her eyes are blue. We all have nice eyes, deep and sad, but hers are AMAZING.

I have no idea how I spent my Sunday, but I think it involved a lot of hanging out around the apartment and resting. I know I really started to feel at home at that point, though. I visited with Gina on Monday, again with her grandmother in tow. We went to Prospect park, the big park in the middle of Brooklyn that was designed by the same guys who created Central Park (and also High Park, here in Toronto, from what I understand). It's a real gem in Brooklyn. It's big and rolling with wild areas and sports fields, a lake and Botanical gardens. We explored a strange building in the middle of nothing, called the Tennis House, I think, and I surmised that perhaps, once there were tennis courts near by. Gina and I experimented with eating acorns (not entirely revolting by the way and perhaps tasty if roasted) as well as salty pretzels, hot dogs and icecream all from the same vendor. New York really understands what a street vendor should be. Yum.

On Tuesday, I brought Alfred with me to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It's almost directly across Central Park from his home. We could have walked, and I have walked it, but his feet and ankles ain't what they used to be so we took a cab. Cabs, by the way, are pretty reasonable to ride in there. At first he wasn't sure how much fun he was going to have, but I did want him to get out and be distracted. I, in fact, had a migraine that day (I had two while I was there, I suppose because of the emotional stress), but I was certainly not going to balk. Anyway, as soon as we went in, I got distracted too (and the double dose of meds didn't hurt either) and we ended up having a blast. We did the entire, vast Egyptian collection, at least what was open of it, they like the ROM are renovating, so there might actually be more than what we saw. Let me say this: Holy crap do they have mummies. Out the wazoo, if you know what I mean. We also enjoyed the extensive Medieval arts section and armouries (I liked the armoury in Philadelphia better, on a side note) and finally we wandered throught he gorgeous historic American room lay-outs. There was one that came out of an old mansion in Buffalo, NY, back when people didn't make fun of the city, that blew us away. Following that, I took Alfred for a fantastic dinner at a place near his apartment called, French Roast, where we feasted on mussels and the most incredible hamburgers I have ever eaten.

I spent Wednesday packing up and addressing envelopes for Alfred while he was at the hospital with Don. He came back and was deemed to be all clear and we had a final dinner out on the town. They also took me to the store that Winners wants to be and really fails at, Filene's Basement. Now THAT is an incredible bargain store. First of all, it is laid out nicely and looks like a real department store, it carries a full selection of name and designer brands that run the course of style and fashion, AND it has a FULL selection of sizes including plus and petit. Yes, Winners, which I have only ever found to suck, has a lot to learn from Filene's Basement. Anyway, Alfred decided to buy presents for me to take back to Mom (jewellery and some incredible cashmere and fur-lined leather gloves) and Don insisted on buying me something, too, so I got a fine pair of lined, wool pants. I'd been there earlier in the week, too, when I bought myself some excellent jewellery and some terribly exciting Sesame Street panties. I went on a panties/bra binge while I was there. I experienced Victoria's Secret for the first time, too, and the bras... *swoon* Wow. Anyway, following our shopping excursion, we all took a cab to the Port Authority and they saw me off at the bus terminal.

You can see how it was both incredibly sad and kind of scary, as well as wonderful and enjoyable, too. I have even left many things out that made the trip so special, but my fingers are getting tired. I have a standing invitation to return whenever I want, and I hope to do so following the Municipal Election. I would like very much to help Alfred clean up his place, repaint it, etc. His place needs it, as does he. I hope I can afford to go back for that. It has also caused me to reconsider moving there, an idea that I had put away in the closet when I realised that the computer animation dream was fading. Well, I am considering it again, though not for the next half-year at least, and everything sort of rests on what happens in the election.

Anyway, there is a not-so-brief update that has been a long time coming and now I must return to what I was doing when I started this an hour ago. By the way, I have updated my sci-fi gallery in Elfwood and I have a new gallery where I can post any form of art (including poetry and photography) as well at DeviantArt.

I have returned from a trip that was at once awful and wonderful, sad yet affirming. I went willingly to New York, though not with much hope of enjoyment, and then, as we find, once in a while, it was a marvellous visit that brought me to my first home in a way that was closer, more honest, than any visit before. There was laughter with the tears and as much celebration of a life lost to us as there was lamentation. It was an eye-opening experience and if I ever thought before that I was without much family, I know even better now that I make up for it in friends. Dear friends who even as they struggle have a place in their hearts for me. I will write more soon. Tonight, I am too tired.