Sometimes, the world is a truly bizarre place. There I am, stumbling through life and something thumps me and I can't help but blink and look around. Sometimes these things happen after a strongly felt impulse or craving. Two days ago, while working at Nicole's store, I succumbed to the urge I'd been feeling for over a day. I just had to draw a My Little Pony. Those of us of a certain age remember them and no, I don't mean the new ones that are on the market that are meant to appease us in the hopes of buying them for our children out of nostalgia... Anyway, I have never drawn a My Little Pony. Well, not one that was meant to look like the copyrighted image, at any rate, because I'm sure that as a little girl, I drew them and wrote stories to match, but they weren't copies of the design. As I was saying, I broke down and drew one. Not just any MLP, though, no, I created a Hippogriff. Hippogriffs are the offspring of a griffen and a mare - a truly rare occurence as mythology states that griffens prey on horses. Today, I was back at the store and brought with me my trusty greyscale markers and shaded her in. I put a vaguely Scythian symbol on her rump because hippogriffs turn up in Greco-Sythian mythology and I gave her the somewhat lame name of "Scythia". I am deeply proud of this weird bit of fanart.

Here's where the weirdness of the world comes into it. Like I said, I was really feeling the need to draw this. Today, not long after I set down my markers, finished with the drawing, two women about my age walked into the store. One of them popped her head through the beaded curtain to ask the price of the Hello Kitty Tarot and our eyes locked. Instant recognition took place and in stunned babble embraced. Krissy, a childhood friend with whom I'd lost touch with easily 18 years ago, was in Nicole's store, where I just happened to be. We had not seen each other since I graduated from highschool - er eight years earlier - and had not actually had a real friendship since we were little girls in elementary school. With Krissy I had played My Little Pony for hours on end. We used to get scolded by our grade one teacher for bringing our ponies and combing their manes and tails on the carpet when we were supposed to be listening to story time. Until fairly recently, I hadn't thought of a My Little Pony in years, and until she walked into the store today, I hadn't throught of Krissy in easily twice as long.

Naturally, I whipped out the picture and showed it to her and she squealed with delight and admitted that just the other day, she had her ponies out of their box and was looking at them. She was contemplating taking them back to Australia (where she now lives with her husband and has for two years) but wasn't sure if she should. It's amazing the roads our lives travel on. Ours diverged so many eons ago and got tossed back together seemingly out of the blue, and yet we both had a simultaneous urge to revist our favourite childhood toys...

Initially, Krissy and I bonded out of mutual segregation. The girls ostracised us as only little girls can because we came from Somewhere Else. In both our cases, that other place was the USA. Sure, I came from Brooklyn and she from Seattle, but it didn't matter - our US commonality gave us a bond. I don't really remember how our friendship began to fall apart. I think she was held back a grade and if I'm remembering correctly, I was really mad that she was - I thought it was unfair. Then I went into the French programme and like all of my friends, she kept in the English track. French Immersion broke up all but my most powerful friendships and we lost touch. Even though we went to highschool together, ours was a massive school and with never a class together, leading completely different lifestyles, we never reengaged.

Life is strange.

Thank you, Meriam-Webster, but I beg to differ about this one...

The Word of the Day for Aug 06 is:
goober \GOO-ber (the "OO" may be pronounced either as in "food" or as in "good")\ noun : peanut

Example sentence: Gerald has been trying to cut down on salty snacks this year, but he still can't help stealing a few goobers from the candy dish.

Did you know? We're just nuts about the word "goober." It's a regional term, used mainly in the southern and east-central part of the United States. But the plant didn't originate in the U.S.; it's actually native to South America. It was taken from there to Africa, where the local people gave new names to the high-protein legumes. Peanuts traveled back to North America with slave traders, and there English speakers adopted a term from the Bantu languages of central and southern Africa to form "goober." But "goober" isn't the only name for "peanut" that has stuck with us. That snack staple is also known as the "groundnut," "earthnut," and, more rarely, the "pinder," another term that originated in the Bantu languages.

In other news, I've had a few days off in a row, which is terribly exciting, and though I had every intention of using this time to start my packing and whatnot, I haven't, and instead have found myself doing such things as sleeping, reading, playing video games, eating freezies, and walking around downtown. And enjoying myself. However, now I have pretty well used up my dawdle time and cannot put off the inevitable any longer. Thus, this afternoon, in but a few minutes, really, I am going to do some laundry. When I return, I'll have an hour or so before needing to head over to Rick's. We're going to spend a low-key evening watching Hellboy and chillin'. Tomorrow it's Taste of the Danforth, and then I'm coming home to do some sorting. I've got a whole pile of boxes waiting for me at the ROM, which on Sunday, I will flatten out and stuff into a bag to bring home.

On Monday and Wednesday, I'm going to be filling in for Nicole at Nocturnalia while she is at Pensic. That will be fun, because I'll be able to dress in clothes that I can't wear at the ROM. In fact, that's one of the things I am looking forward to about starting school in the fall. I won't be required to wear business casual every day. Woo ! Of course, that's not all I'm excited about. Heh. I'm just not excited about physically moving home. I don't want to rent a truck or van (I'd prefer a van), but them's the breaks. I'm busily examining different moving truck rental prices. I will be able to split some of the cost with Stew, who needs a van, too, but I need a package that won't burn me on the kms because I will have to drive to and from Peterborough. I was so impressed with Discount when Rick and I went to the cottage in their rental car that I am seriously considering renting from them again. I think that the van will be big enough - I've moved with one of them before, and a number of things (books, for instance) will be stored at Rick's house. Anyway, I have to book that soon.

I'm kind of thinking we should have a garage sale, as there's so much crap here, mostly belonging to me, but I dunno. That's more work than I think I have time for. Oh well, more junk for Mom's garage. Anyway, now I'm off to do laundry.

This just in. Plans have to change. I'm now working tomorrow, not Sunday. Hopefully, Rick will be ammenable to this and not mind too much postponing tonight until tomorrow night.

If it had not already ocurred to you, almost-seven-year-olds are active and exhausting. Just playing with Sierra for half an hour at the park two nights ago made me sweaty and pooped. She refused to believe that I am too big to play on the kiddy jungle gym and as if to prove my point, when she had me go down the fire pole, I banged my head really hard on the overhead bar. It was very exciting, though, because she'd never gone down the fire pole herself and initially with some coaxing, I helped her and when her mother came to pick her up, she was able to show off her new trick and even did it all by herself.

When I was her age, I refused to go down the fire pole at my school's playground, but that was because it was twenty feet high and I had to lean way out to reach it. Playgrounds nowadays are pretty wimpy. They've reverted to what they were like in the 60s. My school had one of the first wood apparata in Toronto with three levels, a huge tube slide, two tire swings (I think they've since been banned because they're kind of dangerous - though I never remember anyone getting seriously hurt on one), and a whole plethora of other neat things. In this world of ever increasing desire to protect kids from the 'dangers' out there, playgrounds have returned to short open-air slides, canvas-seated swings (if you're lucky), fire poles that don't get higher than eight feet, and monkey bars that you'd have to be totally inept to fall out off. And I say that as a kid who took a MIGHTY fall from her school's monkey bars that required me to go to hospital.

Anyway, in the end, kids will still get hurt and over protective parents, school boards, and children's charity groups will freak out. If they could have their way, kids would all be put in sterile bubbles and rolled around on soft, grassy surfaces with no chance for interaction. I mean, come on, I managed to break my ankle at a baroque recorder practice. Children will always find a way to hurt themselves. Sure, maybe I'm saying this because I don't have kids and don't understand what a parent feels, but there is a level of over-protection that I hope I never reach. Touching the hot burner is part of growing up, folks.

Anyway, in other news, I went with Nick to the Democrats Abroad event last night at the Duke of York. The idea was that all the local Democrats were to get together to watch John Kerry's acceptance speach, only after two hours of talking, eating, drinking, and television watching, he still hadn't come on, so Nick and I left. Whatever. It was fun, even though I had to share the table with the Crabbiest ROM Volunteer ever. She's a condescending, irritating, self-righteous old woman who never has a pleasant word for the staff. Her husband was quite nice, however; if a little cowed.

Hanging out with Nick did provide me with one insight that I truly appreciate. We were talking about the US elections and how someone he knows is running as an independent Libertarian candidate and I mentioned that not a single self-proclaimed Libertarian that I knew was actually able to explain what a Libertarian is. I remarked that they're always trying to demonstrate themselves with that damnable quadrant diagram that is so facile an explanation that it says nothing at all about what a Libertarian actually believes in.

Nick's explanation is perfect for me, as a fairly literate individual: "A Libertarian is someone who's read too much Heinlein and is too timid to admit liking Ayn Rand." He further elaborated: "You know, they want to take a few 'good' people and colonise the moon, doing it the 'right' way from the beginning." Ahhh, Nick, finally a concept I understand.

I had a really super time at Kristina's wedding this past weekend.  The wedding was on Saturday and the weather could not have been more perfect - not terribly hot, gloriously sunny and it got nice and cool when everyone was up on the dance floor.  The wedding was held in the vicinity of my cottage, about an hour away, at a place called St. Hipolyte, near St. Jerome.    It's right in the midst of Montreal Cottage Country, so it's a heck of a lot more built up than I'm used to, or like, but the view of the lake was really gorgeous.  It's the family cottage of the groom and it was neat that some of the neighbours turned out to watch from various watercraft on the lake.  Neat.

Rick learned that it really is true, lots of people do know how to dance and we were seriously put to shame by all the old (and young) rug-cutting couples.  That said, he really loosened up and actually danced, with me and alone, to all sorts of music (with a heavy bias going to country).  I was, once again, disturbed by how I know so many of the lyrics to all those country tunes, it's not like I listen in the solitude of my room, or something.  In truth, the DJ played the perfect mix of music for the crowd in attendence and I think most people were pleased with the choices.

The food was really good and the DJ made each table choose a song in order to sing for our suppers.  The only rule was that each song had to have the word 'love' in it.  Ours was the first table to go so we chose I love rock 'n' roll.  Following each table's choice, the DJ then would play the selection as the table went up to get their food.  The table where the priest was seated thought they'd stumped the DJ with Jesus loves me (this I know) but he came right back at them with a version of the same song.  Typical, a country DJ would have music suitable for a bible camp.  *laugh*

I should probably mention the service, itself.  Kristina was dressed in a traditional, empire wasted gown, sleeveless with thin straps, and a scalloped, though tastefully short, train.  Her hair was loosely piled with a flower in it and all over curls.  Derek (the groom) had grown out his hair and what with his chubby cheeks he looked just like a hobbit.  Though, with the goatee, perhaps he looked like a hobbit who'd gotten lost and wandered onto the Black Pearl.  He wore a simple black tux and sandals.  It was great.  Kristina's bridesmaids were her best friend, Shannon, and her sister, Anna.  The flower girls were Anna's two daughters and Kristina's adorable two-year-old daughter, Emma.  The Priest gave a simple, moderate, and really nice service and with the exception of when little Emma wanted her daddy's arms, everything went really smoothly.

Many people were very happy to see Mom and me and for a lot of them, it had been since Leo's funeral a few years back that we'd seen each other last.  Leo, of course, was Kristina's grandfather, and something like a surrogate grandpa for me.  People got very drunk, but Kristina, ever mindful of the rampant alcoholism that runs through the hills of the Laurentiens, had organised shuttle buses that would take people from the venue to the hotel where a lot of people were smart enough to book rooms.  Needless to say, with all the alcohol freely flowing (there was a canoe full of beer, vodka coolers, and ice, as well as an open (donation-based) bar), people got very sentimental and started to tell me how wonderful my mother is and how long they'd known her and how it was great that I was so much like her. 

I know a compliment when I hear one.  :)

Anyway, other than the wedding, I spent a few days generally doing nothing and actually getting some sun.  I went canoing one evening and bonded with the beaver, and on one particularly hot afternoon, Rick and I enjoyed a very nice swim.  The water was warm and the sun was nice and hot to dry us off afterward.  The cats, including Willi, were having a very nice time.  Willi loves it up there.  She loves it the most when I am outside and readily accesible, so I suspect she's going to start to miss me quite soon.  We left her up there with Mom and the other cats.  Finally, renting the car was a good experience.  Discount more than made up for the shitty time I had with Thrifty.  The car, while not a Kia as it states on the webpage, did the job and we had a very easy and affordable trip. 

 

I can't believe how busy I've been and just how busy I will remain until I get to the cottage (which won't be all that relaxing, what with the wedding taking place and all). It hasn't been my favourite kind of busy, either, what with the stress of putting together a wedding outfit and being built the way I am. Anyway, it's all been settled, now, but man, do I ever dislike pressured clothes-shopping. Originally, I had figured a white knee-length skirt to contrast fancily with the black corset I bought, but upon consultation with "Mildred", I decided to opt for a black skirt with black and white striping from the knee to six inches lower. Neat. After much disappointment, Jacob saved me from having to go topless by having the perfect top; and on sale, even. Huzzah. Plus, I'll be able to wear it all again for another wedding in August.

Speaking of weddings, my dearest friend in the whole wide world has finally set a date for her wedding. This after being together for ten years and getting engaged back around Christmas. Yeesh. Anyway, it's set for the 15th of October, 2005. I love autumn weddings. Anyway, it's being held at the Rosedale Golf Club (about which my feelings are mixed) so it will have a lovely view of the ravine. They plan to have a high-noon wedding and then serve a late lunch rather than a dinner, which sounds really charming to me. All these weddings. I think I have a few months off, before I'm a bridesmaid in July of next year and, of course, maid of honour, at Tracy's in October.

I had so much other stuff that I'd meant to write about, deeper stuff. Stuff that engaged my brain. Oh well, another time.

This quiz says absolutely nothing about your personality. Take it!

I was swept with the most wonderful wave of nostalgia as I walked up the street to grab a coffee from the Second Cup.  It's hot and hazy out, kind of muggy, and there was a sort of gritty hot breeze blowing up the street.  I was assailed by the scent of hotdogs and suddenly I was ten years old again attending the YMCA's day-camp on Ward Island, fishing-bucket hat on my head and my sport shorts on backward.  I loved that summer camp.  I did so many interesting things and learned such neat stuff.  The same can be said for almost all my camp experiences, though; summer was a wonderful time when I was freed from my typecast role as the gawky, loser kid at school.  Suddenly I was transported to the long grasses on Snake Island, the rickety clubhouses where we changed into bathing suits for canoeing, the smell of burning weiners on the overnight campout...  It was a brief flash of memory, but a happy one.
On Wednesday and Thursday I was at "Union School" learning how to be a negotiator on my union's bargaining unit.  I kind of thought it would be dull as these things sometimes are, but it was really interesting and even fun.  We did many exercises and workshops to help develop strategy, to break down the negotiating process into manageable pieces, and to alleviate any anxiety we might have.  I'm a little disappointed that I might have to resign from the unit, though, as negotiating will certainly conflict with my schooling.  If it only takes one day a week every other week, I might be able to swing it.  That's something I need to figure out.  I hope that I can swing it, because it will be such an excellent opportunity to learn about the process and really come to understand all that goes into it.
This coming Thursday, Rick and I will be driving up to my cottage because my friend, Kristina, is finally getting married on that weekend.  Of course, Kris lives up near my cottage and she's my oldest friend, with whom I'm still friends, having bonded when we were still in diapers.  I believe we were introduced and seconds later we were sitting fully clothed in the wading pool on my cottage's deck.  Charming.  Anyway, she's marrying her long-time boyfriend and the father of their wonderful daughter.  More exciting news regarding coupling (I can't believe I just typed that) is that a friend of the family and his wife have a new baby !  This would be the man that, when I was a little girl, I wanted to marry.  So, I am now something of a quasi-aunt, which is pretty darn keen.  I must make a visit to their house in order to meet Baby Kai and welcome him into the world.  I'll see if I can do so on Sunday evening as they live fairly close to the museum.
Anyway, getting back to the wedding, we've rented a car from Discount for a very reasonable rate and we'll be packing up my cat, who will remain with Mom up there, and probably some of my art supplies (I'm working on the assumption I'll be back up there for a week in August).  We'll come back on the 27th - Rick's miffed since he was planning to get his license on that day, but I told him not to complain since he's been talking about doing it for over four years.  Then I reminded him that people do drive in Hawkesbury and he could probably get it while we're there.  I'm really looking forward to going, both to my cottage and to the wedding.  I'm bugged, however; by not having anything to wear.  I might have to sacrifice my day off tomorrow for dress shopping.  That ought to be depressing.  I'm hoping to find an inexpensive little number that I can dress down for this wedding, as it's informal, and that I can dress up for another friend's more formal wedding in August.  I know, it's a toughy.  I'm going to be optimistic, though.  Halfway through the summer as it is, hopefully I'll find something on sale. 
 

Last night, I went to the the Toronto Fiesta (St. Clair street party), not to be confused with the Summerlicious street festival happening at regular intervals on Yonge Street. It was a very welcome break from working on my signage commission. Rick came over and Derek joined us, which is pretty amazing since they haven't been known to get along in the past. Last night went very well and Rick even took the extra step and payed for us all at dinner - I think he was making up for past experiences. There was a lot of street entertainment that included Italian and Portugese singers and bands, as well as some jazz and funk bands, and we took in a very strange one-man puppetry act that included a puppet who danced with its feet on fire. It was fun, not the greatest, but uniquely entertaining. We went into Sushi Century for dinner and Derek and I enjoyed some of the best baklava (not from the Japanese restaurant) that we'd picked up from a stand on the street. All too soon I had to head home again and get back to work.

I've almost finished the sign. The lettering is esentially done, though I am thinking of highlighting the main heading "Scorcerer's Apprentice" as it's kind of dark and uninteresting. The fonts I've chosen reflect a sort of faux antique type of script to fit nicely with the theme of the Ontario Renaissance Festival. I've also surrounded the text with ivy. I was going to do more traditional scrollwork but the ... oooh, patron... pointed me to some links with ivy designs he liked. Anyway, the ivy is kind of pretty - prettier than I had intended for his sign, but it looks really nice. Rick was startled by just how nice it looks. It's real graphic art - from the days before computers. I set the letters down as stencils, I measured with measuring tape and eye-balled the rest. Having a light projector would have been useful as stencilling is kind of labour intensive. Also, a drafting table would be useful, too, so I don't have to hunch over stuff. Even setting the board up on my little table-top easle didn't allay the hunching.

Today, at the ROM, it is really quiet. So many things are happening around town that almost all the people coming in are tourists and those are few and far between. I went outside for my breaks and sat myself down in the sun. It's such a shame that I'm working almost every day because I can't take advantage of the marvelous weather. It has only just gotten hot, but it's not humid yet and I'm really loving it. Even yesterday when I was able to be home working on the sign, and I was doing it outside on my porch, I still didn't get any sun because the porch has a roof. But it was nice to be outside, working, listening to the CBC on my little portable radio, nonetheless. My next day off - and this time it's a real day off, with no work planned for it - is on Tuesday. I don't know what I plan to do, but I plan to do it outside if the weather is nice.

Speaking of nice weather, sometime soon, I have to hie me to High Park for As You Like It. I haven't ever seen that play, though I read it a number of years ago. Maybe Friday. I will look into it.

I get the feeling that I have some sort of house fairy who is set upon mussing things up and discombobulating my life. Now, I am not referring to the cats, as they have similar habits (we call it "helping"), I mean an invisible something or other that has but one desire - chaos. Generally speaking, this isn't a problem as I lead a life that must be satisfyingly chaotic for the little bugger, but what with my very 9-5 existence of late and how little time I spend hanging around at home (and I don't mean when I'm asleep), this is obviously too much. So, no matter how I seem to set my alarms for the morning, something messes me up. This morning, my clock did not go off and neither did my stereo. My stereo goes off -every- morning. So, I woke up when a colleague called me asking if I was planning on coming into work today. Of course, said I, confused as to why she'd be phoning. Duh. When I hung up, it hit me and I glanced at my stereo. It was flashing *7:10* every other second and I realised that the fuse or switchbreaker had gone... again. This is the third time in less than two weeks that the power has failed in the five minutes before my stereo was set to go off. While I could continue to blame my pleasant, but slightly inept landladies, I feel that it's hard to accept three outages like that so close together. Besides, it's neat to imagine that I have a house elf of some sort. I'd leave it some treats if the cats could be relied upon not to eat them. One can never rely on a cat.

With school looming on the end-of-August horizon, I have found myself daydreaming about my future. I've pretty well spent the last two years thinking no further ahead than a week or two, especially this past year. Living hand-to-mouth really cuts into plans for the future as it is incredibly difficult to imagine a time when you won't be poor and could actually afford things such as an education (or even paying rent on time). It's nice to have something to work toward again. Back in highschool, I was working toward getting into university. Then, in university, I was working toward a degree (though, mostly toward getting OUT of university again). I like having goals. Granted, I'm not always very good at finishing the things I start, and I have been known to screw myself with a deep-rooted sense of failure, but now that I've lived hand-to-mouth and generally devoid of purpose, I think it's safe to say I WANT to go back to school. I WANT to have plans for my future.

So that rambling paragraph is really to introduce my new understanding of self. Right? Sure. I've felt that things have turned around for me. The changes haven't been on a grand scale, but they have been very positive and have really reminded me of the possibilities I have open to me. Working in Eternal Egypt was one of the best jobs, most fulfilling jobs I've ever had. It was brief and the hours were not very long, but it was almost entirely an exciting learning experience. It reminded me that I like to learn. It highlighted that I learn best when it's experiential and when I get to confirm it by imparting that knowledge onto others. Working at the ROM, I see the plans for its future and I cringe. I can look back and know what worked in the past and have a pretty solid idea of how to make things work once again. It took a lot of waffling in the Arts for me to finally decide where I'd like to go, but I think I've figured it out. I've moved through interests that ranged quite broadly, but in the end, I always end up trying to point them to the Arts. Well, duh. It's hard to apply art history to horses. Let's look at these interests - Archaeology (specifically Egypt, Greco-Roman, western historical... the very arty of the field), Art History (enough said), computer animation (for game and film ART), illustration, antiques, auctions, galleries and museums... Need I go on?

Right, so what do I want to do with myself (considering my dream of being an Olympic Equestrian has been put on indefinite hold)? I would like to make museums and galleries, public arts institutions, if you will, accessible to everyone. Theoretically, they usually consider themselves accessible, but often this idea doesn't go past wheelchair ramps. Then there is the problem of museums dumbing themselves down in the erroneous idea that this will make their institution more accessible to the masses. My desire is to work as a consultant in the museum field where I can help the different institutions structure their exhibits (travelling, rotating, permanent, hands-on, etc.) to engage all different types of audiences without appealing to the lowest common denominator. It's lofty, I know, but there is not only a niche that should be filled, many museums are in desperate need of sensible restructuring, not to name names... I have my eye on the education I will need to attain in order to reach this goal and I think I have a good idea of the steps that I'll need to take. It's exciting. It's like being on the cusp of something...

Cuspy.

Today it is cloudy and muggy and the sky threatens to repeat last night's stormy performance. "Did you wake up last night?" was the question most asked this morning in regard to the thunder and lightning that blasted through Toronto. I was awake as the storm began, the rumbling at first distant. The thing about me is that I really enjoy storms. I fell soundly asleep as it gathered strength and when my colleagues were being woken up, I was blissfully unaware. I imagine that this opposite response must stem from my childhood memories of my cottage and New York. The first because the storms were so dramatic and exciting and my cottage was so cozy and apparently safe; the second because of the wild colours the lightning used to flash, thanks to the strange light and particulate pollution in the air over New York. Even though I have very little memory of thunder scaring me, it must have. It scares all young children for a while.

I had an eventful weekend, sort of, at Toronto Trek. I was there working for Nicole who was down East. Our fear that her groupies (the ones who only ever want to speak to her, get measured by her, or give their money to her) would refuse to do business with me were somewhat alleviated as after initial disappointment, they latched themselves to me like they were some large, humanoid lamprey. For Nicole, the show was very bad. Sales were well below average, but I got the feeling that attendence was down, too. For me, on the other hand, the convention was quite exciting. My teeshirts were a great hit and I scored a wee contract to provide a dozen of them to the Hairy Tarantula, one of Toronto's better loved gaming shops. I also could net a contract to provide shirts to a huge group of fen so that they can wear them down at a big convention in Georgia. If that one goes through, I won't have a choice but to have them printed professionally. Beyond this, there is also a possibility that I'll be doing some wedding invitations for friends of Nicole. We shall see. Nothing is for sure except the deal with the Tarantula.

I spent last night working on Zoltan the Adequate's sign for the Renaissance Faire. I sealed the wood so it's now ready for painting and I have enough sealer left over (plus a different kind, as well) for when I'm finished. I started playing with fonts in PhotoShop and have settled on a very nice design for the main text. Tonight, I will set up the smaller text. Rather than free-hand all the writing onto the wood, I'm going to make stencils to apply so that I don't muss up the proportions. I don't want to lay out a grid because I'm not sure if I'll be able to erase the guidelines when I'm done. Anyway, it's all an exercise in creativity and I am confident that I will have it finished, at latest, on Sunday.

On not having enough time:

I have not, in fact, dropped off the face of the planet. I know that some people might dispute this as there has been virtually no proof of my existence at all. Let me assure you, gentle reader, that I am here, moving through life, on this very plane of existence. Now, if I look back over my schedule since returning from New York I can see that I've been very busy. While there were a couple of days off at my disposal, they were disposed of in a very tedious manner; generally speaking, at work. The work might have been more enjoyable than my other work, but still work. There was also a sick day in there, but it, too, was spent working. Include in this twelve hours of volunteering for my NDP candidate, and the other work that I did upon arriving home from, you guessed it, work, and you have a very full schedule. And a somewhat confusing paragraph.

Now, look ahead through my coming month and you will find that although my work for the candidate is finished, there are contracts that need completing (in the VERY near future), and not a single day off until the 13th of July. Sure, this coming weekend, while not actually working at the ROM, I'll be working at a tradeshow (read: Toronto Trek sci-fi convention), and that's a lot of work that requires me to be on the ball all day, every day. Okay, to be fair, one day after the tradeshow, I'll not be working, I'll be driving between Toronto and Peterborough and (you guessed it) working on contracts. Heh.

Hopefully, this explains my lack of posts and/or social activity. There is a wedding I must attend in Quebec near the end of the month so I will have a few days off (thankfully), but honestly, I have no idea when I'll get a real chance to visit my cottage this year. I hope I will before I go back to school, but there's no guarantee, considering all the schedules that need balancing this summer. I must say that it is very different working in Visitor Services than it was in Membership. In the latter, I could pretty much walk into my manager's office and say that I wanted such-and-such days off and it would be done. This job is quite a bit more 'real world' than the other was, though. I'll eventually get used to it. In the meantime, I'm trying to determine my schedule for August. It's going to have to revolve around moving house and other non-ROM-related work.

This leads me to my options surrounding my return to school. Hopefully, there will be some flexibility that will allow me to commute from Peterborough every other weekend, or so, to work, but won't require my being at the museum every Saturday and Sunday. There is precedence for this flexibility, but if not, I have the option of requesting Educational Leave. Again, there is quite a bit of precedence for this being accepted. If not, well, that is a whole different kettle of fish. Or bucket of eels. Whichever.

Lately, I've been suffering from intermittent stomach pain of the sort I have had after the food poisoning has gone but the muscles are still in spasm. The problem is, I haven't had food poisoning or even been sick in any sort of way relating to my digestive system. Sometimes it happens after I've eaten, as though my stomach's not sure it can handle the food, but sometimes it gives a twinge out of nowhere for no apparent reason. I wonder what an ulcer feels like.

Before I go to work, I have to go to Shoppers' Drug Mart to pick up my incredibly expensive medication. This will effectively clean me out. On top of this, Mom is giving me money to cover the interest on my student loan I've built up over the last few months. It's frustrating that all this comes just before my rent is due, when my next paycheque is going to be small. I had hoped to get down to Curry's (artist supply super store) to pick up some Prismacolour colour markers that are on sale for HALF price as well as some supplies for the contract I picked up for a wooden sign I'm painting. That contract isn't going to net me a ton of money, unfortunately, but it's got some cache being for the geek magician from the Renaissance Fest. If anyone wants to donate to my cause, you can purchase stuff from my store and that would be very appreciated. ;)

Also, I'll be selling some teeshirts at Toronto Trek this year. I've been screwed by the Art Show whose organisers forgot (yet again) to send me my artist package and when I enquired, I was told there was only a half-panel available for me to show my art and NO table space. Ask me if I'm impressed. I'll be working the Nocturnalia booth for Nicole, this year, since she's helping to move her parents to PEI. It's not a great loss, then that I won't have art show space, because I'll be paid for my efforts anyway. Right, but I was talking about teeshirts. I went to my friend's apartment yesterday and we screened some shirts. I'm very pleased with the results and hopefully they will sell well. I'm still not sure how much to sell them for.

Anyway, I'm sure you've had enough of my ramblings. I'm going to do a very small wash of laundry in the sink/bathtub now and hang them outside on the drying rack. This will stave off my imminent panty deficit.

I am cross-posting this from my livejournal, Me and Other Things, because it is worth mentioning twice:

I ran into an old friend on the subway. He's a musician and he used to front a band I loved with all my heart. Anyway, he looked great and we chatted a bit. He gave me his new CD, which I am now listening to (it's pretty good) and we re-aquainted ourselves and whatnot. Not that he'll be easy to reach for the next while as he is walking across Canada playing gigs at each stop to raise money for cancer research. The album is a solo project and so is the trek. Read about it here.

I was invited to his show last night, but the person who invited me left out the fact that all the money goes to raise funds... I would have actually made an effort to get Rick and myself out to the show. Anyway, he and I haven't been in touch much in the last three years, but I have to say, I'm really proud of him and what he's doing. I was concerned for him when we lost touch; living the 'rock and roll' lifestyle was beginning to take its toll. I wish him well and hopefully I will get a chance to see him perform at another time.

Good luck, Simeon !

I've been back in Toronto now for a few days and am back to my old routine. This is not a terribly interesting fact, especially since my routine is pretty boring. Rick was over last night, which was fun. I don't often miss people when I go away, or when they go away; I miss my cat and my bed, but people less so. I had one night when I really wished Rick was with me in New York, but that was it. Last night, however; I realised that a part of me had missed him quite a bit and I was very happy to spend time with him. What's happened to me?

Tonight, I'm supposed to be meeting with a potential client that was referred to me by Nicole. He's a friend of hers and he works at the Renaissance Faire among other places. Some of you might be familiar with his stage name, Zoltan the Adequate. He seems like a very fun guy and he needs a sign painted and I'm available and interested in doing it. I keep checking my email in the hopes of hammering out the details for tonight's meeting, but so far, no message. Anyway, I'm not sweating it, we'll get together eventually. There's not quite a month before he needs it.

In a similar vein, I really must start getting some stuff together for Toronto Trek. As usual, the people running the Art Show haven't gotten back to me with the control sheets, and when I spoke to my friend Maery, with whom I'm sharing a hotel room, she had her forms but couldn't actually get them to open on her computer. Yeesh. I'll be working the convention on behalf of Nicole who has to help her parents move down East. She'll be paying me to be there and on the Saturday I'll have her assistant to help out. Now that the attendees to TTrek have gotten to know me as Nicole's minion, I might actually make some sales for her.

I have big plans for this year's convention, too. Not only will I have my typical art show stuff, but I'm planning to have tee-shirts featuring my artwork ! I was planning to do it via printer transfer sheets and an iron, but I just discovered that my friend, Mel, has a silk-screener ! So now we have a date for next Thursday. I'll take a walk down to China Town on Monday to buy cheap tee-shirts and then I'll be a go. Well, that and I have to pick out which images I want to use. I am sort of thinking Nine-Fingered Frodo and maybe my creepy twins, but perhaps I'll come up with something brand new. Suggestions are appreciated.

I never did find a cyber cafe near to where I was staying in New York, though in all honesty, I didn't look terribly hard. I had a nice trip. It felt a little unstructured, which isn't a bad thing, but a lot of the things I'd expected to do with Mom didn't happen because, of course, she ended up not going. It was a very nice visit, though, and I saw people I hadn't seen for a while and went to places I hadn't been before.

On the advice of a friend at the ROM, I went down to Chelsea, and really, other than housing a significant number of aging gay men with small dogs and a fair number of interior design shops, there wasn't a whole lot going on. I suspect my friend got Chelsea confused with Soho. I didn't actually make it to Soho, even, as I found other things to do. I did more fully explore the Upper West Side and the streets near to where I was staying, this time, venturing off of Broadway in order to explore Amsterdam and Columbus. I also didn't make it out to any clubs or plays, even though me and my host had discussed the idea of going to a show. Not having any contacts my own age kind of cuts into one's desire to experiment with the clubs and whatnot.

One thing that was very neat was that I returned to my old neighbourhood, Sheepshead Bay, for the first time in twenty years. I went specifically to visit my late nana and zaida's best friends, Willy and Shirley, but also to see the streets I remember so fondly. When I climbed out of the subway, I was struck with olfactory nostalgia - the neighbourhood smells exactly how I remember it: like the ocean, a bit dirty, and full of cooking scents. I took photographs of my old house and street and was pleased to see how big the trees had become. I wandered through the park where I used to play and more than anything, it was there where I felt the most nostalgic. Willy and Shirley are old now; somehow the same even though the years have marked them. Willy is half blind but as kind as I remember and, now that I'm an adult, I realise he's perceptive, intelligent, and wise. Shirley is tiny - five foot nothing at the most - and has all the powers of persuasion a Jewish great-grandmother should have. Brooklyn pizza is still the best in the world and therefore I was to eat it ("Have another slice, Mayala, we ordered it for you...") until Shirley had deemed I'd eaten enough.

Eating was something I did a lot of. Despite my, um, zoftic curves, the prevailing attitude was that I should eat heartily at every meal. This is not how I usually eat. I tend toward one meaningful meal a day, but everyone made sure I couldn't possibly starve. And most frustratingly, no one let me pay. I managed, in a week of eating, to pay for only two, maybe three, meals. And every single one was either delivery or at a restaurant. I started to order salads simply to cut down on the heaviness and to get some decent fiber into my diet. The best food was had at three particular restaurants, excluding the awesome pizza Shirley ordered: E.J.'s Luncheonette, French Roast (my favourite by far) and, River Thai & Vietnamese.

Unfortunately, I spent the entire vacation suffering from larengitis, or something like it, so I was coughing chronically, alternating between losing my voice and sounding like I'd been smoking for forty years, and blowing god-awful stuff out of my nose. I spent the Tuesday pretty much in bed all day until dinner time when I finally got up and decided I was going to take a walk if it killed me. Alfred joined me and we walked to Riverside Park and far down the humber, pausing ocassionally to sit on a bench in the sun or wander down a pier. We found a charming waterside cafe and enjoyed a refreshing dinner as the sun sank below New Jersey before heading back up the boardwalk and home again.

On the one grossly humid day we had, I walked (yes, walked - ugh) to the American Museum of Natural History knowing full well that it would be extremely air-conditioned. This was my favourite museum when I was little and it's still pretty neat. I took in the special exhibition about the lost city of Petra, which was very interesting and made good use of both video and written information. I also got to see the model of the giant squid hanging from the ceiling in the biodiversity section - a creature that has dominated my memory of the museum for most of my life. It's not as big as it seemed when I was five, but it's still pretty impressive. I also went to the Whitney Museum with Alfred, and that was pretty interesting, though not as much fun as when we went to the Met back in October. The museum highlight was definitely the Brooklyn Museum of Art. I visited that one with my mother's friend, Suzanne, who lives very near to it, and was very impressed. It is large and spacious and houses some very fine collections of world art. Mostly, I focused on the African and Oceanic art as we lack any notworthy displays of such here in Toronto. I found it very interesting that the Brooklyn Museum has just undergone a substantial renovation that involves both glass and steel, but unlike what's going to happen at the ROM, this museum's managed to blend it perfectly with its classically inspired facade. Gorgeous.

Anyway, I could go on at some length still, but my fingers hurt. I am out of practice, or something, and I've already been typing now for about half-an-hour. Suffice it to say that I had a very nice time in New York and hope that I'll get back there in the not too distant future.

I'm leaving on the bus for New York in just over an hour. I'm actually really nervous. I usually get excited before a trip, but tonight, I'm thinking it is as much anxiety as excitement. I don't know why, I've made the trip a bizillion times before. Have a wonderful week.

"This is the end / there ain't no more" as various camps songs say, "unless I meet that..." Well, in this case it's not a bear, goat, or train - I'm talking about Eternal Egypt. Tomorrow, the fat lady will sing, so to speak, but I won't be around to see it as I'll be riding a Greyhound to New York (hooray !). I'm working in the phone dungeon in the Visitor Services office right now and mostly the phone has been ringing steadily. Not necessarily 'off the hook' at all times, but damn near it for somewhat extended periods. We're up to 200 phonecalls, which isn't a record by any stretch, but when 92% of the calls are basically the same three questions ("Are there any tickets left?" "Can I purchase my tickets on the phone with you?" "Where are you located?"), it might as well be a thousand calls.

Rick is in the museum right now, moving through the Egypt show. He never quite managed to pick a time when I'd be able to give him the tour, what with our two schedules, so he's stuck with the last minute crowds. Joane called me down here in the dungeon to tell me that she saw him and and his lovely short hair and that it looked very good. I was just telling him last night that all the ladies think he's cute now. Even Joane. *laugh* Well, it's true. Anyway, I said my goodbyes to the exhibition yesterday. It was my last day doing the tours and it was pretty melancholic. Most of the interpreters were subdued and we all moved through the show saying our private farewells to our favourite pieces. We gave our best for the groups yesterday, trying to fit in all the best information we could. The class that went through last got one of the best tours we could have given them.

On the one hand, I had become pretty tired of a lot of the students. I had grown tired of telling them to be quiet and acting like their teacher or parent, but on the other hand, there were so many great kids with so many wonderful questions, I doubt I could get tired of them. Even yesterday, I was amazed at the wonderful way that some kids express their ideas. One grade five boy, when I was explaining how the creator god, Khnum, creates two identical statues of each human, suggested that the reason for this was so that the two could 'exist in two worlds'. After a moment of encouragement, he developed this idea into a picture that I realised was meant as 'this world' and the 'next world', or the Afterlife. And he would be right. That was a nice moment to savour on the last day.

Tonight I have to head down to Queen Street in order to pick up my excellent custom shirt as done by Nicole. I'm paid up, had it fitted to me yesterday, and I'm very excited. I wanted it for New York, even if I don't get a chance to wear it. I have a lot of packing and organising to do tonight as my bus will go tomorrow in the evening. I had planned to take the earlier bus at 12:30, but honestly, that one arrives after midnight and I'd rather battle the rushhour crowds in the New York subway on Monday morning than arrive in the middle of the night. I can sleep on the bus and get most of a day's activity in on Monday providing I get a bit of a nap. Besides, Alfred, with whom I'm staying, is a morning person, not a night person. This means that I can probably manage to see Harry Potter: Prisoner of Azkeban with everyone for Stew's birthday, afterall. That should make him very happy. It won't cut my time in New York short, either, as I just swapped a shift with someone at work that gives me an extra day at the end of my holiday. Yay !

My goodness, I hadn't the time for excitement previously, especially since Mom gave me the news that she wouldn't be able to come due to Real Life and I was really looking forward to travelling with her. My mother is the BEST travelling companion. We share interests in just about everything, and since she knows New York like the back of her hand, it would have been fun to poke around in her old haunts. However, I'm going to check out a couple places I've never been before, like all the galleries in Chelsea and maybe a couple of other places in Manhattan that I've never been. Also, I'm going to visit old friends of the family in Sheepshead Bay (my old neighbourhood in Brooklyn) whom we have not seen in something like two decades. That will be wild. I haven't been back to that area since I was nearly seven years old for my Zaida's funeral. Maybe I'll even take a walk down the old street.

Now, looking at my watch, I see that my day is drawing to a close so I really should post this and get on with things. Current phone tally is now over 220. Lots of people are now disappointed because we've been sold out for over half an hour. It is not my fault that they left it to the last weekend of the show. I am now looking forward to going for dinner with Rick. Oh yes, a quiet evening is most welcome.

I am pleased to announce that I have new pants. This is not a trivial matter as I am not exactly Madame Average. Unless you mean average height of a man. I am too fat for fashion, but not quite a plus size, too tall for normal women's clothing, too short for the tall shop. I spent a lot of time roaming around the Eaton Centre looking for pants that fit. As I am leaving for New York, I thought it would be a good idea to have a pair of jeans withOUT the split inseams. I finally had success at Bluenotes. I'd been told to go to Old Navy - the chain with the HORRIBLE commercials that made me swear I'd never set foot in one. Today, I did, but after about five steps, I stopped, looked around at the horrible plastic people doing their shopping, turned around and headed right out. On my journey to find pants (how middle class is that?) I met lots of very helpful salesgirls and a couple not-so-helpful salesgirls. In the end, I am pleased with my purchase and I know where to go for jeans in the future.

The Eaton Centre is under construction. I don't really know how I feel about this. The Eaton Centre is in architecture texts and they're completely rebuilding it's lovely glass facade. It's lovely EX-facade. Of course, the whole neighbourhood is undergoing renovations and has been for several years since someone thought that evicting a whole lot of little businesses and putting a hole in the ground would make Yonge Street more up-scale. So, now, every block is under siege, but rather than men in helmets, cannons and food shortages, there are men in helmets driving diggers and dozers. I was afforeded a wonderful view of the massive pit that abuts College Park. There were so many people peering through the little wholes in the barricade, everyone representing the multi-everything that is this city, all totally fascinated. The most interesting moment came when the digger was patting the bedrock down into the back of a dumptruck. This massive piece of machinery did so with such gentleness that it looked like a caress. It was so neat.

In other news, there are two more days remaining of Eternal Egypt school tours. It's getting harder to push through the spiels, I have to say, not because of boredom but rather my own desire to enjoy these last days. Sadly, yesterday I spent all too much time acting as a disciplinarian, separating badly behaved children and reprimanding their behaviour. This is not my job. Shame on the teachers and parents that accompany these groups and take no responsibility. It was a little better today, but I really hope it picks up tomorrow and Friday because I would like to go out on a high note. This has been the most rewarding job I've had since the first summer I worked for the Ontario Government. That's saying a lot. Who knows, maybe working on the OPSEU bargaining unit in the up-coming round of negotiations will be even more rewarding. Even if it's in a different sort of way. Probably not, though. All said, Eternal Egypt is exhausting, and going away to New York will be VERY refreshing; nice change of pace.

Before I settle down to play some Baldur's Gate 2 on this quiet Friday evening, I thought I had better relate some of the interesting events of the past week. If I don't do it now, I might never do it. Of course, this time last week, I was at Anime North. Normally, when I go to conventions it is as a vendor working for Nicole and as an artist. I have to say that it's really nice to get away from that once in a while and just attend a convention for the sake of attending. Anime isn't my principle fandom, as most of you will know, but I have enjoyed it for years and I love seeing all those people dressed up as characters. Some of the costumes display the most amazing creativity even if they don't entirely succeed.

It all began with the rather lengthy bus ride out to the Airport. Somewhat inconveniently, because the old venue was condemned, this year's convention was held at two locations: the Toronto Congress Centre and the Renaissance Hotel. I have to admit, I didn't even make it to the hotel. The things I was most interested in were occuring at the Congress Centre, including the art show, Artists' Alley (where all the artists do commissions and sell stuff), the Dealers' Room, Masquerade, and workshops and participatory programming. One highlight was attending the traditional Japanese art workshop held by Nobuyuki Ohnishi. His prefered style of art is the traditional monochromatic (single colour) ink wash technique called sumi-e. He talked about the differences between Eastern art and Western art and gave a demonstration to illustrate these differences and then we went and examined his artwork that he had on display in the art room. His English was a little fractured and the noise level in the main hall of the Congress Centre made it very hard to hear what he was saying, but we (his keen little students) got the hang of what he was saying. And, of course, he took photos of us and we took photos of him.

On the Saturday, I met up with Techknight and we spent most of the day wandering around the Congress Centre enjoying the myriad of costumes and all the other sights and sounds that an anime convention affords. You can read his highlights here as they sum up the Masquerade very nicely. I didn't spend too much money on anything, a fact that I am fairly proud of. I had wanted to pick up some of the Copic markers, but they're just too expensive for a trial run. I'll ask for them at Christmas, or something, so that a whole lot of people can chip in to purchase them. They're really friggin' expensive. I did buy some art of a fellow Elfwood artist and a pair of chopsticks that are simply too nice for my mother to tie plants to, though I'm sure she would, given the chance. I also picked up the OCAD student comic compilation from two students involved in its creation, development and publication and one cheap print. That's one of my favourite things to do, chat with the artists.

In other news, I helped my friend Megan move on Sunday. That was a somewhat painful experience as the building she was moving out of is NOT WELL DESIGNED. It's awful. At one point I was wandering around the fourth and fifth floors with a pair of handtrucks for what seemed like hours, trying to find the elevator that would take me down to the lobby. Opportunity provided us with a rope that enabled us to tie her mattress and boxspring to the van and though some might call taking it 'stealing' it was made up for by the fact that of all Megan's friends, I was the only one to show up after promising to help.

Otherwise, the week has pretty well flown by. There is only one more week of Eternal Egypt and I realise that when it's over, I'm going to miss working as a schoolgroup educator desperately ! I might not have believed it at the start, but I have derived so much satisfaction from this job that I wish it would go on forever. I've developed a bond with many of my co-workers and I will endeavour to stay in touch with them. I've even bonded to several of the pieces in the exhibition. One day, I will have to go to the British Museum to visit them again. Senwosret and "Monty", the beautiful bald priest, little Princess Nefurure on her tutor's knee, and of course all those wacky kings at the end of the 18th Dynasty. I went into the exhibit thinking I knew a pretty fair amount about Egypt, but now, coming out at the other end, I realise I know much more than ever before, and I've only bumped the tip of the iceberg.

Democrats Abroad was a really neat experience. Firstly, let me say that these people are a very interesting mix. There were some who had been here for a long time and had held fast to their American roots, their accents remaining intact after years of living in the Toronto area. There were others who had allowed for the "silent take-over", the passive acceptance that Canada would rub off on them. One couple had been here for thirty five years and too look at them you would never guess that they were from south of the border. They dressed in muted colours, in low-key styles - very North Toronto/Lawrence Park. They had even been granted dual citizenship, but there remained that little part of them that wasn't ready to relinquish their roots, thus they continued to vote in US elections with no intention of ever moving back. There were people who had arrived for work in Canada, people who's families had moved (like me), people who had dodged the draft... it was, like I said, an interesting group of people and generally, well spoken and intellectual. Neat. It was a fun time and I'll certainly go back in June.

Also, my application for an absentee ballot has been filled out, stamped and is sitting beneath the Rentwraith in the hall. I had meant to mail it yesterday, and then today, but oversleeping both days can really put a cramp in ones intentions - especially when one is scrambling out of bed at the approximate time one should be booting up and heading out the door. *ahem* It was so bad today that I had to waste money on a taxi.

In order that I will wake up tomorrow nice and refreshed (and on time), I did not go home after work for a nap. I knew that no matter what else I did, I would end up napping and that would keep me up much too late into the night. No good. So, having walked down Philosphers' Walk behind the ROM and through UofT to Spadina, with no further plan in my head, I hopped on the streetcar and rode down to Queen Street. At this point, I turned east and climbed the stairs up to my friend Nicole's store. Here, I was offered a chair and conversation, and no place to nod off, was taken on a mini-adventure running errands with Nicole, came back, chatted more, and then went for nachos. And, in scant moments, I will make my way home.

It is a long afternoon to spend alone in the Visitor Services office at the ROM. I've been finished work for just over an hour and with another hour to go before the museum closes, I'm guaranteed a nice dull time. Why am I sitting around? I could go outside, granted, as it's a very nice day, but somehow it's just easier to kill time here. I'm waiting for the hour of 7:30 to arrive when I will then head to the Duke of York a block from here. There's a meeting for the Democrats Abroad - a pub night, to be precise - and I decided that it would be good to attend. You see, earlier this week, I signed myself up.

Yes, that's right, I'm in the process of filling out my request for a ballot so that I can progressively have a hand in hopefully ousting the Shrub, aka. Bush. I've taken to calling him The Shrub because shrubs are like trees only they never become majestic, instead they are stunted and serve to fill space. And that's what I feel George W. is busy doing: taking up space. I want him and his cronies out of office. He didn't deserve to be there in the first place and now is the time to get him out.

Anyway, I phoned Democrats Abroad because I couldn't figure out how to register my vote and I spoke with a lovely man (whom I'll meet tonight, presumably, and have been warned by someone who knows him that he's a little, um, bombastic) who was more than helpful.

"I am calling because I'd really like to vote in the next election but I don't know how to register."

"And am I to presume that you'll be voting Democrat?"

"That's the idea, yes."

"Good, I was just checking, I'd hate for you to be a misguided Republican..." He paused and chuckled.

"They would have to be if they're planning to vote for Bush." I hoped he was making a joke and filled in what I believed to be the answer. Not knowing for sure, he might have just been one of those gigglers who can't seem to finish a thought without giggling or chuckling, whether it was funny or not.

"Exactly !"

Phew. Well, he was indeed helpful and I have spent the better part of three breaks sorting through the links and information he directed me to. There is a lot of information out there and it's a bit confusing. I sent an email to my mother asking her to dig out the address of our house in Brooklyn, as that's my last US residence. Heh, I was nearly six years old when we moved. Twenty years in Canada, but I can still vote in the country of my birth. Hopefully, she will be able to track it down and I can get on this quickly. I want the ball rolling as I was warned that New York got its ballots out late last time around.

In the meantime, I'm sitting around in the office, frittering time away. I'm trying to do some cartoons based on my friend Kelly's crazy little cadence. She posted it in her livejournal and it would make a great clapping or skipping song. It's kind of dark, but it makes me think of the Lizzie Borden rhyme

Lizzie Borden took an ax
and gave her mother forty whacks.
When she saw what she had done
she gave her father forty-one.

even though the rhythm is quite different. I'm going to try to cartoon the whole thing and maybe turn it into a mini graphic novel when I've worked out all the ideas. I've signed myself up for the Art By The Inch competition.

Based on the idea of National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) and its goal to have everyone write a 50000 word novel, this competition is designed to get artists of all types producing 10000 square inches of art. There are three levels: gold at 10000", silver at 5000", and bronze at 2500". I'm afraid I'm aiming for the bronze catagory. I just don't think I have it in me to produce more than that. Of course, if I go over my goal, that's not so bad, either, but if I have no goal whatsoever, it wouldn't be any more than what I'm usually doing. Besides, since the weather got nice, I haven't touched my sketchbook (with the exception of the painted Mothers' Day postcard I sent my mom).

I suspect I'll do a bunch of other things, too, in order to fill up space. I'm considering doing some larger painted works with broad brushes to blast me out of my miniaturist attention to detail storybook illustration rut. It won't matter if the works come out nicely or not, the idea is to stretch myself. I've never undertaken such a project before, so we'll see how it goes.

Nominate The Greatest Canadian! Think of the one person you feel deserves to be named The Greatest Canadian. Submit your nomination at www.cbc.ca/greatest, or call our toll-free phone line at 1-866-303-VOTE (8683). You can make one nomination per address, so make it count. Be sure to send us your pick by May 16, when the nomination period closes.

Okay, I'll post in my own words soon, I promise. Really, I will. I have stuff to say, I'm just being lazy.

In many cultures, the arrival of spring is heralded by celebrations of fertility and the sewing of seeds. While I did not engage in Beltane or May Day activities, I have been busily planting my terrace garden. It is looking very pretty now. One box contains a couple of ivy varieties and a pair of magenta geraniums. Another contains some attractive veregated something-or-others and parsley seeds that will hopefully germinate. In another box I planted some two dwarf lavendar plants and impatiens. Finally, I have two planters with geraniums and impatiens (pink and white). I once vowed never to plant geraniums because esthetically speaking I don't love them, but I have realised that they're nearly impossible to kill, which is good, because I can be a little eratic with the watering. So, in my own way, I have celebrated the arrival of spring, too.

The trees have started to leaf, they're either all budding or sprouting and flowering. It happens all at once; suddenly the world is green. The light green leaves of spring are my favourite, and I enjoy the blooms raining petals on the street. I happened to be walking late last night, returning from my friend's house, and it was drizzling but quite warm, and the air was heady with the smell of blossoms. I have often wondered why flower scents become so much more pungent at night. The walk home was really nice, though; with no one out and about everything was peaceful.

Knowing that I'm going to be moving to Peterborough in September, I'm really taking advantage of Toronto while I can. I do love this city for all it's superficiality. I even enjoy the ambient noise, though not so much the smog. Besides, Peterborough has air just as bad as Toronto. I like that there's always something to do. I like that there are so many funky people (and I mean that in every possible sense of the word) walking around. I love how multicultural Toronto is and the way the neighbourhoods bleed into each other.

On the other hand, in Peterborough I can ride horses again. THAT will be wonderful. I miss horses and being part of the horsey community, even as a fringe member. I even (or should that be 'especially'?) miss smelling of horses. Long ago, my leather jacket stopped smelling, even in the rain. It's a strange thing to miss, perhaps, but when it's part of your life for years and then it's gone, it leaves a void. Another good thing about going to Peterborough will be living rent-free with my mother. Some people, going into their late 20s, resent having to move home again. And how do I feel about it? I think it sounds super. I adore my mother and she's become my closest friend. We seldom fight and though sometimes the teasing gets biting, our relationship is really great. And it will be so much easier having laundry facilities in the same place as my bed.

Tonight, there will be barbeque ! Stew came into my room yesterday and subtly hinted his desire for steak. "You know, this weather makes me think barbeque..." My answer went something like this: "Yes, Stew, I will bbq tomorrow. I'm not going food shopping today." He bounced with excitement. I am Queen Barbeque, you see. And, tomorrow, I'm going up to A&C's to check on the plants, etc., as they're in Chicago. They'll be back on Friday, but tomorrow is the first chance I have to make sure things are okay.

C'est tout.

Aside from Willi bathing me again (this time without blood and rubbing alcohol) I thought I'd talk about hanging out with an old friend with whom I thought I'd lost touch.

Many separations, many months of denying each other due to our own personal problems, attitudes, weaknesses, passed and today I know that regardless of what might keep us apart, Megan and I will always be able to come together once more. I had great fears for our relationship when I reached out to contact her a couple of weeks ago, and it felt awkward at first, but we got over it and danced and had fun. But today, there were no flashing lights, no black-light ornaments, no DJs or other bodies getting in the way. Today, it was just us.

Megs met me at the ROM after work and a union meeting and from there we walked through the UofT campus, down St. George, to Queen. We talked about life and our losses and gains. We talked of our plans, hopes and desires. We touched on the hurt and the fears. We wandered in and out of shops, mocking the stupid shoes and their spikey heels, drooling over Fluevogs, drooling on the Fluevogs... We played dress-up in corsets and velvet and strange panteloons. And we talked and talked and talked.

The most amazing moment came as we were walking along Queen to Bathurst. Bumping into each other as we walked, like we're always on a five stride intersect course.

Not saying anything.

We just walked, bumped into each other, and relished the presence of the other without needing to say a word. I knew right then that there was no need to say anything, only to be together. Good friends. It was really nice and deeper by far than any conversation we could have been having. I am glad that Megan is back in my life. I didn't see until today that without her there had been a piece missing from my life.

Ya. And we got stopped for a streeter about the smoking ban that will be coming into effect in the bars of Toronto. Neat.

Sometimes, Willi (aka Stinky Bee) thinks I'm dirty and require a bath. Kitty style. Just a few minutes ago, I was sitting at my desk, checking my email, when I decided to give her chin a tickle. She clearly felt my fingers were filthy and started to lick them.

Unfortunately, this stimulated her mothering needs and within only a few seconds, she had climbed up onto my shoulder and started licking my ear and hair. She hunkered down and held on when I tried to remove her from my back. Getting quite whipped up by all this (unwanted, on my part) bathing, she started to lick my face and when I pulled my head away, she swivelled around and bit my chin. Yes, she BIT me on my CHIN.

And it hurt. I have rosacea and a while back, a flare-up on my chin got infected. It's finally healing after more than a month (it looks kind of like a cold sore - eeeww), but it is slow going because it splits when I smile, yawn, or laugh. And now, her tooth just cut through it. Yuck and ouch !

Her removal from my back was immediate and involved her flying through the air and me running in the opposite direction to break out the rubbing alcohol. I'm pretty sure Willi thought she was just acting like a mother cat with a disobedient kitten, but holy crap it hurt. And it bled.

Yes, I know that dog-people will simply add this to their fodder as to why cats are 'bad' but I say to them: "Yeah, at times like this, sometimes even I wonder why I like them."

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In other news (you know, I write that quite regularly in my weblog), I had a very good day at the ROM today. I love working as an Eternal Egypt educator and I think I do a darn good job. Today I was in a room I'd never done before but have wanted to do since the very beginning. It was a little rough for the first two groups, as I hadn't settled on a spiel, yet, but my excuse to them was that I had a sore throat and wasn't feeling too good. This is not, in fact, a lie. I do have a sore throat and it was worse this morning.

Most of the school groups were quite easy to engage, even the highschool kids. I had one teacher of an art class, probably in her 40s, but quite hip and enthusiastic, totally re-evaluate the way she had been teaching the Egyptian period to her kids, in part because of the stuff I talked about. She said to me afterward, "I had always thought that Egyptian art progressed from the beginning through to the end in a linnear fashion. Now I see that this is not actually the case." This little bit of question and answer made me feel not only smart and cool, but gave me one of those rare moments when I realised that my degree was not entirely a waste and I really DID learn something at school.

Our conversation went like this (Warning: Art-nerd alert):

"Unfortunately, Egyptian art is anything but linear. Sure, the tools improved, which allowed for more risk-taking and, yes there was a standardised 'look' that was developed over time, but they spent a lot of time looking back at what came before."

"So I really need to take another look at how to teach this."

"Well, the idea that all things progressed in a straight line is more and more out-dated. If anything, this exhibit proves it."

"How often did they archaise [use older styles]?"

"A lot. During this period, the 12th Dynasty, the headdress of the Old Kingdom came back into vogue, at least in art, as did the figural style, but at the same time they were experimenting with portrait styles and studies from life. You'll see this sort archaism again in the Late Period when Egypt was ruled by foreign kings and they were looking to reclaim their strength through the visual identity of the much earlier past."

"What about the period of naturalising that took place in the New Kingdom?"

"The Amarna period?"

"Yes, Amarna, didn't that change their art?"

"Well, you'll see that later in the exhibition, and I can't take much more time now 'cause the next group is here, but you'll see that for all it's changes, and apparent progressiveness, it was so identified with the negative aspects of the king that by 100 years later, you would never know it had existed. You'll see the remarkable shift back to static sculpture that comes with Rameses the Great."

"I had no idea how complicated their art really was. It was never my specialty, but it is really fascinating and I think I'll take a closer look at it over the summer."

My great week has now been followed-up by a great weekend. I feel so lucky and so happy and satisfied, even though not everything is going the way I want it to. That's life, right? Right. Following up on the idea of life as a spiral, while things look, on the surface, much like they did not so long ago, here I am, looking down, and I can see where I was this time last year and I KNOW I have progressed. I've got school to look forward to in the fall and a summer full of excitement and adventure. I have a boyfriend with whom I am very happy and friends surrounding me. Sure, the money is sometimes tight, but not like it was, and for that I am extremely grateful. I am talented and smart and generally a good person. I have a cat that I adore and plants that are healthy. Things are good.

And bearing that in mind, I now prepare myself for the inevitably unpleasant phonecall to the people at Canada Student Loans.

I've had a great week. It's not that anything out of the ordinary has happened, it's just been, well, pretty good. With the exception of an encounter with a co-worker that was less than pleasant, all has been well.

I managed to go out for someone's birthday on Thursday night and hear some music, which was really nice. I haven't gone to hear a band, or musician play in months and months. I knew one of the performers and she was excellent, really moving and fun. Her name is Karyn Ellis and she's pretty darn good, so check her out. Following her performance was group called Amanda Mabro and the Cabaret Band (I think). They were a tight little swing band fronted by Amanda Mabro and she's incredible. Pipes out of this world. Rick came out for some of the fun, but due to pressures at his work, he had to leave early in order to get some sleep.

The evening prior, Wednesday, was spent at Rick's and he cooked a yummy dinner and we watched television. I know, how exciting is that? Anyway, we were both dead tired (see a pattern?) and rather than pass out on his couch I decided to head home for a good night's sleep. It's a good thing I did, too, or I'd have missed the awesome "street theatre" at Queen and Carlaw. This is a sketchy corner at best, and truly divey and sometimes scary at worst. I've had a lot of experience with it, in that Rick's the third guy I've dated who lived right there.

Let me set the scene. One plump art student type guy with portfolio and parchment case under his arm, another fellow of undetermined ethnic background, a little shorter than me with dark eyes and long dark hair, and a deaf-mute. The deaf-mute (is there a more PC term for this?) was dressed in a sporty wind-breaker, nice cream-coloured, very clean, pressed slacks, and expensive looking brown woven leather shoes. He also had tattoos on the back of his hands between thumb and forefinger, plus a very expensive looking watch. If it weren't for his wild gesticulating and howling at passing cars, he looked as if he would fit in very nicely on the set of The Sopranos.

A patrol car came cruising up Carlaw, as the police tend to do, slowly checking out everyone at the corner, stopping when it came abreast of the ranting fellow. The got out, a female officer and a male, and they started to ask him some questions. This was the point when I realised he was deaf, previous to this I had assumed he was a crazy, drunk man, of which there are many in the neighbourhood. Through rudimentary sign language on the part of the female officer and more of the man's wild gesticulating, he got his point across that he lives in a house "over that way" and he was waiting for the bus to take him.

At this point, the bus arrived and we all filed on. The police chatted with the driver for a minute and parted company when the driver accepted the deaf guy on without a ticket. As soon as the bus starts to move, the guy starts ranting again, hands forming big shapes in the air. I'm paying loose attention, mostly seeing him as comical and basically harmless, but I can't figure out what he's saying. The guy from the bus stop, the one of undetermined ethnic origins, turns around in the seat in front of me, grinning, and says, "Wow, that guy's great." I agree and he adds, "Do you know what he's saying?" When I said I didn't, he began to decipher the hand gestures for me. I don't know how he was able to figure it out, but once he started to explain, it became obvious that he was right.

It went something like this: I live in a big house and have lots of money and it's really funny to me that I am riding the bus with you poor people because I fly all over the world. We started to hypothesise about what kind of a house he really lived in and whether or not it was true or whether this guy was really out of it. It was impossible to tell since he was clearly a bit of a head-case, but also dressed pretty darn well. He got off the bus at Danforth and headed off down the street so we'll never know for sure, but it was awfully amusing to watch his antics.

In other news, my dear friend Tanya is getting married. Whee ! More about that at another time. Also, Willi has been extra adorable with me, following me around and talking to me constantly, while Tobe spends a lot of her time sleeping in the sink.

Tonight, after a not terribly satisfying "bad movie" night with Stew and all his girls, or almost all them, and a fairly satisfying game of Munchkin, I am now engaged in a very Canadian tradition. I am drinking beer (though it is neither Molson or Labatt) and watching Game Seven between Toronto and Ottawa (Hockey, here folks). Ottawa is losing and there are only three minutes remaining in play, the Toronto fans have begun chanting "Hey, hey, hey, goodbye", and it's fairly safe to say that Ottawa won't be able to catch up those three goals to tie it up. A small part of me wishes it were not the case, I wanted Ottawa to go down with a greater fight, but what can you do? One of them has to win, the other has to lose - that's the way it works.

I don't usually watch hockey. Most of the season I only pay passing attention, though in previous years, because I was part of a pool, I did pay some. I love playoff hockey, though, it's fast and tense and the meat-heads prove their worth and for once, Toronto fans make noise. If I lived in my old neighbourhood people would spill out into the streets from all the bars and make a lot of noise, but here, in this predominantly Italian soccer-loving neighbourhood, there will probably be very little noise made. Rick might go whoop it up on Yonge Street, he said. I've done the whooping, albeit for baseball, but I know what it's like and I don't need my arm nearly pulled off by a drunk again, thanks, once was enough.

I just whitnessed something that was pretty interesting, I must say, a melee broke out between two players and it was essentially broken up by the ref and one of Ottawa's players who took hold of one of the Leafs and just talked him down and kept him out of it until it was settled. I'm not used to seeing that sort of sportsmanship.

Anyway, it's official, Toronto won and a single person just came out on my street and rang a hand-bell. And then he went away again. This really is a soccer street. My neighbours woke me up every morning during the World Cup, in case there was any doubt. The game was won by the beginning of the third period as Ottawa couldn't get it together to score any more and as their confidence slipped, Toronto managed to broaden the win even further. In the end, it was 4-1 and Toronto will go onto play Philadelphia.

Finally, I would like to take a moment to make it public that when Toronto picked up Belfour, their extraordinary goalie, Rick said, "Nah, he's OLD." I was a fan right from the start and said something along the lines of, "Ya, but he knows what he's doing and he's good at it." Boy is he ever. Yay !

Well, my beer is finished, and for you who care to know, it was a Rickard's Red, the hockey game is over, and company is still over. There remains a small portion of my room that still needs cleaning, though it's all vacuumed and swept and tidied and whatnot, so I should attend to the details before they start to pile up again. Or, I'll pop a new cloth on my Swiffer Wet-Jet... yes, that is what I will do. And it will be wonderful. Goodnight.

It's been a little time since my last real post and I decided it was time to sit down and write a little. This week has shown a full scale welcoming of spring in my neighbourhood even though it began with coolish temperatures and wind chill. Firstly, the sun has been shining most of the week and the birds have been singing merrily every morning. I've been watching various urban birds go through their elaborate mating rituals. The pigeons outside the ROM aren't the best examples as they court in good weather almost the whole year long, but the males have been especially impressive with their puffed up strutting and cooing and the females haven't altogether ignored them. I was watching some starlings do cute things with nesting materials yesterday and each evening I've enjoyed the sound of robins wishing the day a goodnight.

The tom cats have been out prowling. My house which has two spayed females upstairs and a as of yet unspayed kitty below, has been a frequented spot for the neighbourhood toms who have been leaving their musky calling cards against the front of the house and porch. Yum. The other neighbourhood toms, the young men, have been out lowering the suspensions of their Hondas and driving around with their subwoofers turned way up - a sure sign that the weather has been improving. Also, for the first time this season, I heard the dreadfully annoying jingling dingle of the icecream truck coming down the street. The skunks have been out and about, scurrying across the road and getting into things. Inside the house, Willi and Tobe have been in very high spirits, cavorting about the place with gleeful abandon. As for myself, I've been in pretty good spirits, too, most likely because of the longer days and bright, warm sun.

And, the final, most telling sign of spring are the Italian (and Portugese, to be fair) housewives standing outside hosing down the sidewalks. Why they feel the sidewalks must have litres and litres of water poured over them, I don't know, but obviously, water conservation is not a high priority. My landlords are currently out downstairs landscaping the front lawn, as well. They have an interesting concept of garden design, what with the birdbath set at the very front of the lawn with the enormous frog that pretty much fills it. I think it's a fountain of some sort, too. Today, when I came down the street, I found them, and a friend, busy planting geraniums. Already. I told them it looks very lovely, but I warned them that it might just be a bit early yet. There's a rule for planting on the May 24th weekend for a reason. I explained that there could still be snow, even if it's not terribly likely. They seemed shocked but grudgingly agreed it was probably too soon, but oh well, geraniums are hardy. They're from Spain. I think there's a lot about Canada they haven't quite figured out yet.

Anyway, this post out of my system, I think it's time for my nap. I haven't been getting to bed when I ought lately, for one reason or another, and I'm really tired. There was supposed to be a Job Review Committee meeting today but it was canceled, happily. Had it gone ahead, I would have stuck around for a ROM Friends of South Asia event tonight, but I couldn't justify hanging around for five hours. I knew that if I went home I probably wouldn't make it back, either. So, I went for lunch with some of the girls at the museum and then came home. I browsed around on St. Clair for a bit when I got off the streetcar, but I have learned that nothing will fit me. All clothes stop at size 12 and all shoes go up to 91/2. I guess they're not buying their goods for the tall market. Funny, that, this being a predominantly Mediterranean neighbourhood.

How seasonally appropriate, thanks to Meriam Webster:

The Word of the Day for Apr 08 is:

Pasch \PASK\ noun

*1 : Easter
2 : Passover


Example sentence:"Miss Ina will not be for burying him in the kirkyard, but in Isle-Monach, where my Donald would be seeing ghosts at Yule and Pasch." (Walter C. Smith, "Kildrostan")

Did you know?
Easter is sometimes called the Christian Passover, and Passover the Jewish Easter. Given that, it's not surprising that "Pasch" comes from the Hebrew word for "Passover" — "pesah." That word, in turn, is from Hebrew "pâsah," meaning "to pass over." One interpretation (though not the only one) is that the word refers to the final plague before the Jews were permitted to leave Egypt (the Exodus commemorated by the celebration of Passover), in which God slew the firstborn sons of the Egyptians but passed over the Jewish households. "Pesah" became "pascha" in Greek, then "Pasch" in English, which, like a basket with two eggs, has held both a reference to Passover and to the Christian celebration of Christ's Resurrection since at least 1200.

Please note: unfocused thought processing ahead. Please be advised that there may be no conclusion whatsoever found or even a real point to this entry at all.

Some of you, those who know me, I suppose, know that I have an interest in the occult. It's a general interest that has influenced my studies and hobbies for years. I didn't put a name to it for a long time, and using the term 'occult' might be a bit misleading, but I am fascinated by mythology and early religion and how it's come down to us over time. Maybe I can lay the blame at the feet of my open-minded mother who gave me a huge book of greek mythology when I first learned to read. Now, we also used to read from my awesome illustrated Bible stories book, too, but I'd had that from before I could read, so I don't count it - though the story of Samson and Delilah always impressed me.

I was also raised in a house of two faiths - Judaism and Christianity - and allowed to chart my own course. Add to this my mother's involvement with Native Earth Performing Arts and the education in Native storytelling that I received via their shows. By the time I was twelve I was well on my way to broad-mindedness concerning faith and spirituality.

I'm rambling now; my essay-writing skills have suffered these past two years outside of academia. Anyway, I have just finished a really interesting book, Witch: the wild ride from wicked to wicca, by author Candace Savage. It discusses the image of the witch and how she has come down to us through history. It debunks a lot of myths surrounding the witch in her many incarnations and links each subsequent century with their misconceptions, right down to our own. It seems that in each successive generation, the roots of 'witchcraft' go further and further into the past so that by the middle of the twentieth century, the witch had been embraced by feminists and radical social reformers as an icon of collective resistance. Wicca, itself, was born from a misconceived idea of medieval witch cults built from scant records and elaborated on extensively by early anthropologist Margaret Murray. You can read the revised texts here, but when the intro states that "Murray was one of the first to objectively review the evidence of the 'burning times' witch trials to try to extract a kernel of truth" understand that this is not wholey true. It seems that she actually did a bit of book-cooking herself.

In fact, there's been so much cooking of the books that it is nearly impossible to know fact from fiction. And that is one of the reasons it fascinates me so much. In one of my fourth year seminars, I began with the development of an idea about depictions of peasantry in Renaissance art and how they served as moral truths and satirical commentary. This developed into an interest in depictions of women in Renaissance art and from there into the idea of the witch. I also recently read an excellent book called "King Death" and I can see the parallels between the ideas it promoted, concerning Bubonic Plague in the late Middle Ages and early Renaissance, and the rising fear of witchcraft and evil. I feel like I should revisit the topic, but I think my paper might be gone - thrown in a bin for my lack of interest, or something. Perhaps my professor still has a copy, or perhaps it exists somewhere on a disc.

Thought process is here ended. We return to our regularly scheduled programming.

I'm currently in the Petes in order to celebrate Passover with Mom. All the matzoh has stoppered me like a corked bottle of wine and I'm already yearning for biscotti. Terrible, I know. I should be ashamed. I am working at the ROM on Good Friday and Easter Monday, which is very good for my bank account, and as I'm not working Saturday or Sunday, I can take the car into Toronto and return with it for a couple more days of relaxation. I have a date with Rick tomorrow night. I believe we'll be seeing Hell Boy, which should be fun, even though I've never read the comic book. So, my return to Peterborough with the car will be Saturday morning. I'd bring my cat if I were staying out a little longer. She could use some romping in the garden as she's gotten a bit pudgy.

But now, if plans hold, I am to help put up the bird feeders.

I have been neglecting this journal in favour of the much more mindless Live Journal that I can be found frequently posting in. I've been trying to reserve this one for more profound thoughts, but I haven't had many of late.

With the exception of my little theory concerning the grade nine students who come through Eternal Egypt. I have discussed it with various people whom I consider intelligent and thoughtful, including my mother, and mostly once I lay it out, they agree. I came to this understanding after one particular day when I had lots of grade fives and one class of developmentally handicapped adults.

From what I have seen and experienced, the grade nines are the absolute most difficult age level to engage in conversation. They do not want to talk. Sometimes, they raise their hands and then as soon as I turn to them they falter. This is not nearly so bad among the grade elevens, who are beginning to show interest and offer answers. It came to me when I dealt with the developmentally impaired group. These were also young adults, probably around 18 years of age, or so, and yet I had no trouble engaging them. They were a lot like the grade five groups I see so much of with their enthusiasm and volunteering of information.

Children are very emotional. They have no trouble suspending their disbelief. If I tell them that Egyptian judgement consisted of the deceased's heart being weight against a feather, they have no problem accepting that a heart can weigh as little as a feather. Or that the feather of Ma'at (the concept of truth and order) might actually weigh more than a normal feather. Again, with the group of special adults, they had no problem accepting this. They are able to believe, just as a child can believe in Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy. In contrast, the grade elevens have developed their 'mature' thinking skills. They no longer think of things in terms of emotion, instead they think rationally. They can understand the emotional qualities, but place it in a seperate compartment.

The grade nines, however; are in the process of making the leap from emotional thought to rational understanding. More often than not, their questions are the ones that struggle to bridge the gap. For instance, "How can a heart and feather weigh the same?" They are attempting to reason out the answer, but are unable to quite let go of their child-like comprehension. It's sort of an extension, I think, of how younger children try to comprehend the existence of Santa Claus. Grade nine is a brutal time in a person's development, and now, taking into consideration what I have seen, I think I have a much better understanding of exactly what makes it so difficult. More than any other year in a kid's life, I think that one is the gap over which the youth is standing, one foot in childhood, the other in adulthood.

I wouldn't want to repeat it under any circumstance, but it does make me view them less as a downer and more as a challenge.