I misplace my sense of humour and all my readers do is keep a terrified silence?!? I hate to say it but y'all is a bunch of toothless giraffes!
It's harsh, but it's true.
Anyway, I found it back. Loukhi had sent it rolling under the fridge.
Yesterday, a man I was very fond of left my immediate work environment to be posted somewhere else. I hate good-byes. Tomorrow, Jenö leaves for a hellish long time to go play with baby bottles. And I myself start my new job, in a totally new environment, on Monday April 16. So there are lots of good-byes scheduled. Many dear friends, whom I saw several times a week through work, will no longer be around save for special occasions we'll have to schedule on weekends. I don't doubt for a minute my capacity to create new bonds but I hate good-byes.
Nice hour long run last Sunday, under gorgeous sunshine, and easily kept at recovery pace by my wonderful HR monitor. As J predicted, I will get addicted to that thing!
On Saturday, painted with my three favorite little girls, after lunch with their father… a super nice day. They're the dearest, cuddliest things.
Today, lunch with a long time friend I haven't seen in ages. Can't wait. Tonight, three hours of sweating. With my sense of humour back, life can still be good!
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
Tuesday, April 03, 2007
Bordélique
Misplaced: a sense of humor, dark, size XL. Please write to Bridge, at toofreakingfarawayfromthegoddamnocean.
Reward.
Reward.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Be Still My Beating Heart
Before Vince goes into depression, I must make an amendment to my recent Rest Heart Rate entry. When I did check it, I lied down in bed for ten minutes, in the evening, I relaxed as much as possible and pouf, my HR hovered around 44-46 for a good twenty minutes.
The funny thing is that since then, I have not been able to catch my HR going lower than 55-56. It looks like my "real" RHR is usually around 59ish. I've no idea what conditions it takes for my heart to feel powerful enough to relax into a 44 rate, but apparently, it's the exception rather than the norm. Feel better Vince?
I worked out three hours last night (forgetting to start my watch for the second hour so I'm missing those stats). The first thing that strikes me with all this monitoring is that the Perceived Exhaustion Rate, on which I was relying heavily before, is completely unrelated to my actual heart rate. That tends to tell me that the Perceived Exhaustion Rate ain't worth much as far as accuracy. In some exercises that are not that hard, my heart goes through the roof, and on some exercises when I feel like death, my heart is cruising along calmly. So it appears that this tool will actually be very useful to me to verify the actual intensity and to motivate me to work at higher percentages.
Other than that I'm grumpy, lonely and frustrated, today, on a personal level. One of them days when you're looking for friends and they all happen to be busy. It only reinforces the frustration, but the true source comes from inside of course. Argh.
The funny thing is that since then, I have not been able to catch my HR going lower than 55-56. It looks like my "real" RHR is usually around 59ish. I've no idea what conditions it takes for my heart to feel powerful enough to relax into a 44 rate, but apparently, it's the exception rather than the norm. Feel better Vince?
I worked out three hours last night (forgetting to start my watch for the second hour so I'm missing those stats). The first thing that strikes me with all this monitoring is that the Perceived Exhaustion Rate, on which I was relying heavily before, is completely unrelated to my actual heart rate. That tends to tell me that the Perceived Exhaustion Rate ain't worth much as far as accuracy. In some exercises that are not that hard, my heart goes through the roof, and on some exercises when I feel like death, my heart is cruising along calmly. So it appears that this tool will actually be very useful to me to verify the actual intensity and to motivate me to work at higher percentages.
Other than that I'm grumpy, lonely and frustrated, today, on a personal level. One of them days when you're looking for friends and they all happen to be busy. It only reinforces the frustration, but the true source comes from inside of course. Argh.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Quote of The Day
This is the kind of sound, inescapable logic I like.
Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, you'll be a mile from them, and you'll have their shoes.
- Jack Handey
Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, you'll be a mile from them, and you'll have their shoes.
- Jack Handey
Bla Bla
It's rather amusing. I have not one, not two, but three potential job openings. Actually one is firm, two are still potential. It's all happening at once.
One job is farther, unknown, but with good advancement potential. One job is close to my home, known, no raise, but in an environment I've been aiming to join for a long time. The third one offers a salary increase and is for a boss I know and like. I'm nearly tearing my hair out trying to make the best, wisest choice with the data I have and the one I don't. It is NOT easy. Regardless of my choice, I'll be taking a chance. It's just the type of chance that will differ. Man oh man.
I have the deplorable habit of choosing the work environment and people and the tasks themselves over salary increase or advancement possibilities. I guess I'd rather be happy now than rich later. The downside is that I remain poor now. Ahem.
Do you ever wonder why you're alive and Daniel Pearl isn't? No? Ok. I do. No connection with the first paragraphs whatsoever. Just a thought that goes through my head sometimes.
I proudly showed my new heart rate monitor to my ‘Structor last night. He looked dubious:
“Well… First, you have to have a heart,” he said. And after I answered something ludicrous to a question he asked, he stared at my hair:
“Is that a wig?” he wondered earnestly. Irreverence, it seems, is contagious and I'm glad I finally passed it on!
I’m the first one to tell blonde jokes because I’m quite secure with my IQ but there are always some who manage to be offended. Fi donc!
One year and four days ago, I started this blog, unsure of how it would turn out, unsure of my motives, tentatively. One year and four days later, it’s still going strong, somewhat to my surprise. I’m still enjoying it which is the sole reason it is still up and going. For this second year, here’s my resolution: EDITING, Brig, EDITING. Write shorter, more to the point, more powerfully. Cut the blab bla out. You know? Like today’s bla bla.
- But I enjoy the bla bla!
- If you’re gonna write, Brig, you must aim to write WELL. Take what you want to write and then edit, to cut it about by half.
- (meekly) Yes m’am.
- Good girl.
End of my internal dialogue.
One job is farther, unknown, but with good advancement potential. One job is close to my home, known, no raise, but in an environment I've been aiming to join for a long time. The third one offers a salary increase and is for a boss I know and like. I'm nearly tearing my hair out trying to make the best, wisest choice with the data I have and the one I don't. It is NOT easy. Regardless of my choice, I'll be taking a chance. It's just the type of chance that will differ. Man oh man.
I have the deplorable habit of choosing the work environment and people and the tasks themselves over salary increase or advancement possibilities. I guess I'd rather be happy now than rich later. The downside is that I remain poor now. Ahem.
Do you ever wonder why you're alive and Daniel Pearl isn't? No? Ok. I do. No connection with the first paragraphs whatsoever. Just a thought that goes through my head sometimes.
I proudly showed my new heart rate monitor to my ‘Structor last night. He looked dubious:
“Well… First, you have to have a heart,” he said. And after I answered something ludicrous to a question he asked, he stared at my hair:
“Is that a wig?” he wondered earnestly. Irreverence, it seems, is contagious and I'm glad I finally passed it on!
I’m the first one to tell blonde jokes because I’m quite secure with my IQ but there are always some who manage to be offended. Fi donc!
One year and four days ago, I started this blog, unsure of how it would turn out, unsure of my motives, tentatively. One year and four days later, it’s still going strong, somewhat to my surprise. I’m still enjoying it which is the sole reason it is still up and going. For this second year, here’s my resolution: EDITING, Brig, EDITING. Write shorter, more to the point, more powerfully. Cut the blab bla out. You know? Like today’s bla bla.
- But I enjoy the bla bla!
- If you’re gonna write, Brig, you must aim to write WELL. Take what you want to write and then edit, to cut it about by half.
- (meekly) Yes m’am.
- Good girl.
End of my internal dialogue.
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
New Toy
Yesterday was Election Day in Quebec. Good, now that I've covered that, on to more interesting news.
I've a new toy, courtesy of Big Brother. I am well in touch with my masculine side so I like beautiful women and toys, albeit not AS MUCH as men do.
My new toy is a heart rate monitor. I went running thirty minutes last night just to play with it a little. I discovered how difficult it is to raise my heart rate above 90%, even running fast against an extremely strong, icy wind. I also discovered that my rest HR is 44! I thought I was around 60! I must be doing something right.
Now I have to familiarize myself with its use during workouts, and the various HR zones. Jenö wanted me to use the triathletes’ zones, going from 1 to 5 and using the Lactate Tolerance HR but luckily for me, these zones are not part of my monitor's program. I will therefore stick with percentages of my theoretical max HR… I promise I will try very hard not to start to sound like him:
Ran 5 km in 23 at Z4a on the TM but I was really pushing my BMW at MHR, Z2 felt good. HUH?????????
You get the drift. So tonight is first two serious hours using it, including spinning… cool…I should have fun for a while...
I've a new toy, courtesy of Big Brother. I am well in touch with my masculine side so I like beautiful women and toys, albeit not AS MUCH as men do.
My new toy is a heart rate monitor. I went running thirty minutes last night just to play with it a little. I discovered how difficult it is to raise my heart rate above 90%, even running fast against an extremely strong, icy wind. I also discovered that my rest HR is 44! I thought I was around 60! I must be doing something right.
Now I have to familiarize myself with its use during workouts, and the various HR zones. Jenö wanted me to use the triathletes’ zones, going from 1 to 5 and using the Lactate Tolerance HR but luckily for me, these zones are not part of my monitor's program. I will therefore stick with percentages of my theoretical max HR… I promise I will try very hard not to start to sound like him:
Ran 5 km in 23 at Z4a on the TM but I was really pushing my BMW at MHR, Z2 felt good. HUH?????????
You get the drift. So tonight is first two serious hours using it, including spinning… cool…I should have fun for a while...
Monday, March 26, 2007
Hanging
What does one do when one is waiting? I feel suspended in mid-air, powerless to accelerate or decelerate the turn of the wheel. I've already left the fuselage in my mind. I've only a sketchy idea of where I'm going to land and I don't know when it will happen. In the meantime, I'm suspended in a vacuum, in the weightlessness of space. Gravity will resume only when time and destination become clear. Ok, then, this is an exercise. An exercise in floating aimlessly, an exercise in being able to endure the lack of control, lack of direction, lack of power. Things are falling into place outside of my jurisdiction. Until they are revealed to me, I'm floating. So be it. No point in pacing back and forth in the cage of my mind.
Not surprisingly, I feel restless. I’m stuck in an office while all I long for is exhausting myself physically. I feel out of patience with everything, especially the intrinsic absurdities of the Company.
I question, my dear Angel, the point of this blog, where I can say so little about the things that really matter to me.
I question my choices, as outlined by my eternal brother.
To hell with it, let’s eat :)
Not surprisingly, I feel restless. I’m stuck in an office while all I long for is exhausting myself physically. I feel out of patience with everything, especially the intrinsic absurdities of the Company.
I question, my dear Angel, the point of this blog, where I can say so little about the things that really matter to me.
I question my choices, as outlined by my eternal brother.
To hell with it, let’s eat :)
Sunday, March 25, 2007
Feeling Good
First outside run of 2007 under a bright, if not yet very warm, sunshine. I went out intending to stretch my legs for a short thirty minutes but it was so nice outside, it felt so good to run that I ended up doing an hour. I ran towards the mountain in order to add a bit of hills and still felt good enough at the end to finish with a 30 seconds sprint. The sorest part of me were the shoulders actually. Hello tension!
Aaaaaah. Spring is just a-knocking at the door. Loukhi (who's doing fine, Caroline, full shape!) is about to discover the joys of the Great Outside...within the limits of my backyard. The cats are shedding enough hair to fill all the pillows of the house. Brushing time! The two big ones love it, we'll see if the pocket-size takes to it.
Other than that, don't have much to report. Pleasant diner with a girlfriend last night, wine, laughter and heavenly trout.
Back to work tomorrow, with changes expected to be announced presently. Life might be many things, in the upcoming weeks, but boring will probably not be one of them.
I'll keep you informed. Welcome to another Spring everybody!
Aaaaaah. Spring is just a-knocking at the door. Loukhi (who's doing fine, Caroline, full shape!) is about to discover the joys of the Great Outside...within the limits of my backyard. The cats are shedding enough hair to fill all the pillows of the house. Brushing time! The two big ones love it, we'll see if the pocket-size takes to it.
Other than that, don't have much to report. Pleasant diner with a girlfriend last night, wine, laughter and heavenly trout.
Back to work tomorrow, with changes expected to be announced presently. Life might be many things, in the upcoming weeks, but boring will probably not be one of them.
I'll keep you informed. Welcome to another Spring everybody!
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
The Gift
"Imagine," said the woman, "that the Bank offers you 86 400 dollars every morning to spend as you see fit. It's a gift, not a loan. You cannot accumulate it, any amount that is unspent by the end of the day is taken away. But the next morning, you start off the day with a brand new 86 400 dollars. It goes on like this every day, however, it is understood that the Bank can close your account at any time, without any notice."
Take a moment to think: how would you spend the money? Would you feel rich every morning?
"Life," continues the woman, "offers you a gift of 86 400 seconds every morning. How you spend them is up to you. What you waste can never be recovered. But every morning, you start off the day with a brand new 86 400 seconds to spend on living. However Life can and might close your account at any time, without any notice. Isn't one second of life worth more than a dollar?"
The idea is not mine. It comes straight out of Bernard Lévy's "Et si c'était vrai?" Ideally I would have posted the two pages themselves but I'd be breaking 1001 copyrights laws so I'm writing it in my words.
The concept made me stop and think. (First, of course, of the fun I'd have with 86 000 dollars to spend every day. I can confirm, I'd have a lot of fun!) But then, it made me think about the gift of time. A brand new slate every morning with endless possibilities. I thought of the time I waste, of the time I sleep to escape living, of the time I take for granted.
I thought about people who never get to live, about people who die suddenly, about people who receive notice that their account will be closed soon.
I thought long and hard.
Take a moment to think: how would you spend the money? Would you feel rich every morning?
"Life," continues the woman, "offers you a gift of 86 400 seconds every morning. How you spend them is up to you. What you waste can never be recovered. But every morning, you start off the day with a brand new 86 400 seconds to spend on living. However Life can and might close your account at any time, without any notice. Isn't one second of life worth more than a dollar?"
The idea is not mine. It comes straight out of Bernard Lévy's "Et si c'était vrai?" Ideally I would have posted the two pages themselves but I'd be breaking 1001 copyrights laws so I'm writing it in my words.
The concept made me stop and think. (First, of course, of the fun I'd have with 86 000 dollars to spend every day. I can confirm, I'd have a lot of fun!) But then, it made me think about the gift of time. A brand new slate every morning with endless possibilities. I thought of the time I waste, of the time I sleep to escape living, of the time I take for granted.
I thought about people who never get to live, about people who die suddenly, about people who receive notice that their account will be closed soon.
I thought long and hard.
Friday, March 16, 2007
Happy Friday
It's been a busy week. Doing what, I'm not sure, but it felt busy. Packing at the office. Working out. I'm not happy with my workout. I've been averaging 7-9 hours a week, but I believe my body has settled with that amount and is no longer improving. To kick-start it again I have a feeling I'm going to have to increase the hours again. Increasing intensity is not really an option because in classes I don't have much leeway and in spinning I'm already at my max intensity.
I suppose I could go into maintenance mode but why settle for maintenance mode now? Onwards and upwards!
I passed an English exam with a score of 54 out of 55. That was most extremely satisfying. Doesn't mean me write good but at least me felt good.
Now that I've qualified as Pool Person, and therefore will probably receive an assignment soon, I've never had so many possibilities for other assignments. When it rains, it pours, and I have to make a choice between all these options, a fairly blind choice. Man oh man.
On the home front, the pocket-sized cat has already tripled her size since she's arrived. She's now fully in her teenage years. I'm expecting her to start going out late at night, listening to loud music and rebelling against me very soon. She still can't stand to be picked up. I swear next time I'm getting a rag doll cat.
As for Fatso… for all of his size and macho attitude, he's such a baby. Imagine that (I've seen him do it): He goes to my trunk in my bedroom, gets up on two paws, gets a mouthful of one of my sweatshirts and pulls. The sweater seldom goes down by itself. Once the sweater is on the floor, Fatso takes a good mouthful and starts kneading it, purring loudly. He's in Fatso heaven. Go figure. Which is why, about three times a day, I find my neatly folded (or carelessly thrown) sweaters on the floor, threaded upon, sucked upon, and looking for all things like something the cat brought in. On est pas aidé!
On the weekend menu: workout (eh), friends, drinks, sleep. That’s a start!
Later folks!
I suppose I could go into maintenance mode but why settle for maintenance mode now? Onwards and upwards!
I passed an English exam with a score of 54 out of 55. That was most extremely satisfying. Doesn't mean me write good but at least me felt good.
Now that I've qualified as Pool Person, and therefore will probably receive an assignment soon, I've never had so many possibilities for other assignments. When it rains, it pours, and I have to make a choice between all these options, a fairly blind choice. Man oh man.
On the home front, the pocket-sized cat has already tripled her size since she's arrived. She's now fully in her teenage years. I'm expecting her to start going out late at night, listening to loud music and rebelling against me very soon. She still can't stand to be picked up. I swear next time I'm getting a rag doll cat.
As for Fatso… for all of his size and macho attitude, he's such a baby. Imagine that (I've seen him do it): He goes to my trunk in my bedroom, gets up on two paws, gets a mouthful of one of my sweatshirts and pulls. The sweater seldom goes down by itself. Once the sweater is on the floor, Fatso takes a good mouthful and starts kneading it, purring loudly. He's in Fatso heaven. Go figure. Which is why, about three times a day, I find my neatly folded (or carelessly thrown) sweaters on the floor, threaded upon, sucked upon, and looking for all things like something the cat brought in. On est pas aidé!
On the weekend menu: workout (eh), friends, drinks, sleep. That’s a start!
Later folks!
Monday, March 12, 2007
Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch- Changes
How can you be getting older when you still feel like a teenager? TLM called me on my cell today and for the following hour I walked around with this huge, ecstatic and idiotic grin plastered on my face. A sad case, I am.
Yet the weekend had been difficult. A health scare for my mother. A grim reminder that she will not be eternal. The impact and consequences of her disappearance, for Yannick and myself, would be tremendous if it should happen soon. I dread it more than anything.
It was a stark weekend with words like Emergency room, observation, tests, cancer screening. When I saw my boss this morning, she asked me: "So, what happened Thursday?" And I looked at her blankly and last Thursday had been pushed so far away in my mind that I had absolutely no clue what she was talking about. I even forgot to tell her about becoming a Pool Person until she asked me about it.
We don't have any results yet, so, one day at a time.
At work, we're moving Friday into another building and today, I was enormously productive. I packed boxes, I went through all my files and half of my ex-bosse's and boy, did I throw away some paper. Boxes of it. It's very liberating to throw away. I like it. I'm pretty good at it. You wouldn't think so if you saw my house but really, when I do a blitz, I do one heck of a blitz.
Turn and face the strain
Ch-Ch-Changes
Yet the weekend had been difficult. A health scare for my mother. A grim reminder that she will not be eternal. The impact and consequences of her disappearance, for Yannick and myself, would be tremendous if it should happen soon. I dread it more than anything.
It was a stark weekend with words like Emergency room, observation, tests, cancer screening. When I saw my boss this morning, she asked me: "So, what happened Thursday?" And I looked at her blankly and last Thursday had been pushed so far away in my mind that I had absolutely no clue what she was talking about. I even forgot to tell her about becoming a Pool Person until she asked me about it.
We don't have any results yet, so, one day at a time.
At work, we're moving Friday into another building and today, I was enormously productive. I packed boxes, I went through all my files and half of my ex-bosse's and boy, did I throw away some paper. Boxes of it. It's very liberating to throw away. I like it. I'm pretty good at it. You wouldn't think so if you saw my house but really, when I do a blitz, I do one heck of a blitz.
Turn and face the strain
Ch-Ch-Changes
Friday, March 09, 2007
Thursday, March 08, 2007
In Sickness And In Health
Last night, my son went for a sleep over at his best friend's. It is shameful how I enjoyed the calm, peace and quiet of the house, the feeling of freedom.
However, I pushed my reflection further and I realized that for all the time, worry and responsibility that my son represents, he plays the role of a guardian angel for me, because he is mon garde-fou. Having to take care of him means I must take care of myself, something I might otherwise approach differently.
In the meantime, my heart is sick. I tucked it in bed, shoved a thermometer down the aorta, and tied a woollen scarf around the ventricles. But it has to follow me around, so I wrapped it in bulky gauze and tied it on a sling around my neck to go to work. It's like the Fisher King, bleeding from a wound that won't heal. It's draining to be sad. Physiology is very strange, your heart hurts and it's actually a pain in the butt. Perhaps the heart is not located where we always thought it was.
Well, I still have to go to work and it still has to go on beating. To each their job. The wound has been there for ten months now, I'm about to throw a birthday party for it. That should help: candles, confetti, pointed hats, the whole nine yard.
Do you think I'm teetering on the edge of the absurd recently? You're right! I've been coherent far too long. There are limits any self-respecting free spirit must abide by.
However, I pushed my reflection further and I realized that for all the time, worry and responsibility that my son represents, he plays the role of a guardian angel for me, because he is mon garde-fou. Having to take care of him means I must take care of myself, something I might otherwise approach differently.
In the meantime, my heart is sick. I tucked it in bed, shoved a thermometer down the aorta, and tied a woollen scarf around the ventricles. But it has to follow me around, so I wrapped it in bulky gauze and tied it on a sling around my neck to go to work. It's like the Fisher King, bleeding from a wound that won't heal. It's draining to be sad. Physiology is very strange, your heart hurts and it's actually a pain in the butt. Perhaps the heart is not located where we always thought it was.
Well, I still have to go to work and it still has to go on beating. To each their job. The wound has been there for ten months now, I'm about to throw a birthday party for it. That should help: candles, confetti, pointed hats, the whole nine yard.
Do you think I'm teetering on the edge of the absurd recently? You're right! I've been coherent far too long. There are limits any self-respecting free spirit must abide by.
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
Pool People
The results of the competition are in and yours truly has qualified on a pool. We're not talking swimming here. We're not even talking about a wet pool. I probably would have done much better in a wet pool.
The consequences of my being in that pool, even if I remain dry, could lead to significant changes in my daily work. Pool People will be chosen, randomly or not so randomly, to fill positions in several locations. The positions might be crawl, butterfly or back. Just kidding.
It is therefore a distinct possibility that within two months, my daily grind might lead me to another hunting ground. Am I proud, thrilled and elated? Absolutely not. Perhaps it will come later. I have yet to announce at large that I am now a PP (Pool Person). Swimsuit optional.
The most significant changes that come to mind, as a Pool Person:
- I'll have to take the subway following my train ride. I HATE the subway.
- I'll loose physical proximity to 3 best friends. Then again, Jenö will be taking off to take care of miniature Jenös, and the others are looking for change also. Only change is constant.
- my daily chores will be drastically different. I'll deal with the public. I bet that will give me material for this blog.
- I'll no longer have a window into SYWRD's mind, emails, and sense of humour. That's a small but nonetheless significant loss.
On the up side of Pool People
- I'll get to meet new people and make new friends.
- I will experience something totally different.
There are other positive aspects but I try to keep my job vague on here, so I won't go into them.
So that's it. No lanes, but some slower swimmers. No chlorine but a draft of humanity. The ever changing, ever shifting shape and face of reality. Bathing caps are not allowed.
The consequences of my being in that pool, even if I remain dry, could lead to significant changes in my daily work. Pool People will be chosen, randomly or not so randomly, to fill positions in several locations. The positions might be crawl, butterfly or back. Just kidding.
It is therefore a distinct possibility that within two months, my daily grind might lead me to another hunting ground. Am I proud, thrilled and elated? Absolutely not. Perhaps it will come later. I have yet to announce at large that I am now a PP (Pool Person). Swimsuit optional.
The most significant changes that come to mind, as a Pool Person:
- I'll have to take the subway following my train ride. I HATE the subway.
- I'll loose physical proximity to 3 best friends. Then again, Jenö will be taking off to take care of miniature Jenös, and the others are looking for change also. Only change is constant.
- my daily chores will be drastically different. I'll deal with the public. I bet that will give me material for this blog.
- I'll no longer have a window into SYWRD's mind, emails, and sense of humour. That's a small but nonetheless significant loss.
On the up side of Pool People
- I'll get to meet new people and make new friends.
- I will experience something totally different.
There are other positive aspects but I try to keep my job vague on here, so I won't go into them.
So that's it. No lanes, but some slower swimmers. No chlorine but a draft of humanity. The ever changing, ever shifting shape and face of reality. Bathing caps are not allowed.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Years Ago
After supper, we packed our gear on the trucks to go have a little fun: a short night dive. The lake was very dark, barely lighted by a half-moon. There's absolutely nothing to see in a lake on a dark night. But we were an adventurous bunch, who liked to do different things. It was our form of entertainment. There were four of us, three dive-masters and me. I teamed up with my friend Daniel.
We suited up quietly, by the silent, empty lake. We entered the water. Everything was black except for what stood in the narrow beams of our flashlights. I could feel the cold of the water against my dry suit. The sound of our breathing seemed more ominous than in the day time. The darkness and the absence of visual references were such that it was easy to become disoriented and lose track of which way was up and which way was down. We swam down to about thirty-five feet and without needing to consult each other, for we teamed up often, Dan and I settled on our knees on the bottom…and turned our lights off.
Thirty-five feet of cold water pressing down on our heads…all the moonlight allows me to see is the vague, monstrous black shape of Dan beside me…the characteristic sound of underwater breathing: suck-in, bubbles… the cold…absolute darkness all around…
"How many people have had this experience, “ I wondered with a thrill, "this off-the-wall, pointless experience of sitting underwater, at 9 pm, in a lake, in the dark? How far is it from anything we're familiar with? Who knows where I am at this very minute?"
It's the same thrill I had when I went skydiving and I was hanging by my hands outside of the plane onto the transversal shaft of the wing, the rest of my body flapping in the wind, milliseconds before letting go…
It's all about experience. I really enjoy doing things that are out of the ordinary. Which is obviously why I'm sitting here, in front of a computer…AHEM…
Good times...
We suited up quietly, by the silent, empty lake. We entered the water. Everything was black except for what stood in the narrow beams of our flashlights. I could feel the cold of the water against my dry suit. The sound of our breathing seemed more ominous than in the day time. The darkness and the absence of visual references were such that it was easy to become disoriented and lose track of which way was up and which way was down. We swam down to about thirty-five feet and without needing to consult each other, for we teamed up often, Dan and I settled on our knees on the bottom…and turned our lights off.
Thirty-five feet of cold water pressing down on our heads…all the moonlight allows me to see is the vague, monstrous black shape of Dan beside me…the characteristic sound of underwater breathing: suck-in, bubbles… the cold…absolute darkness all around…
"How many people have had this experience, “ I wondered with a thrill, "this off-the-wall, pointless experience of sitting underwater, at 9 pm, in a lake, in the dark? How far is it from anything we're familiar with? Who knows where I am at this very minute?"
It's the same thrill I had when I went skydiving and I was hanging by my hands outside of the plane onto the transversal shaft of the wing, the rest of my body flapping in the wind, milliseconds before letting go…
It's all about experience. I really enjoy doing things that are out of the ordinary. Which is obviously why I'm sitting here, in front of a computer…AHEM…
Good times...
Sunday, March 04, 2007
To M...
"You play so cool, and calm, and in charge," my husband used to say, "but inside you have this big, softie heart."
Well, my big, softie heart is sad tonight. I received an email from a friend announcing his mother's passing away. And behind the formal words, I could feel such pain... My friend is well surrounded and supported, he has a wife and a daughter. Yet, there's something about a man in pain, a man crying, that brings out something in me... It's something beyond motherly instincts and beyond tenderness, it's the eternal cliché. Le repos du guerrier. Lay your head on my breast, and let me stroke away all your pains and sorrows...
Perhaps it is what we women are really born for...
Peace to you, M, and in my heart, I'm holding you like your mother used to, when you were still a little boy...
Well, my big, softie heart is sad tonight. I received an email from a friend announcing his mother's passing away. And behind the formal words, I could feel such pain... My friend is well surrounded and supported, he has a wife and a daughter. Yet, there's something about a man in pain, a man crying, that brings out something in me... It's something beyond motherly instincts and beyond tenderness, it's the eternal cliché. Le repos du guerrier. Lay your head on my breast, and let me stroke away all your pains and sorrows...
Perhaps it is what we women are really born for...
Peace to you, M, and in my heart, I'm holding you like your mother used to, when you were still a little boy...
Saturday, March 03, 2007
Haunted
Twenty-four hours after the storm and there is hardly any snow left on the roads, the driveways or the roofs. The snow banks are still so high, however, that you must make your stops half-way through the intersections in order to see anything incoming.
Last night, I'm rather embarrassed to say, I woke my son with my screams again...THREE times. At least it no longer spooks him. I'm going to have to do something with my mind to make sure that stops. Nightmares are all very well when contained but I can't have the whole household up in arms every time.
When Yann got up at seven, I felt him lifting my covers slightly. I opened my eyes: he was slipping one of his stuffed teddies beside me. "It will help you with the nightmares," he whispered. How sweet is that? I pressed the white teddy bear against me and went back to sleep.
Good class this morning, fun, enjoyable. Rather wiped the rest of the day.
R.A.S.
Hope the ghosts leave me alone tonight.
Last night, I'm rather embarrassed to say, I woke my son with my screams again...THREE times. At least it no longer spooks him. I'm going to have to do something with my mind to make sure that stops. Nightmares are all very well when contained but I can't have the whole household up in arms every time.
When Yann got up at seven, I felt him lifting my covers slightly. I opened my eyes: he was slipping one of his stuffed teddies beside me. "It will help you with the nightmares," he whispered. How sweet is that? I pressed the white teddy bear against me and went back to sleep.
Good class this morning, fun, enjoyable. Rather wiped the rest of the day.
R.A.S.
Hope the ghosts leave me alone tonight.
Friday, March 02, 2007
Don't Stop the Snowing Carnival
I was so excited today when I was sent home early because of the snow storm. I felt like a little kid.
HOURS of shoveling snow later, this is what I look like:
The snow banks on each side of my driveway are now taller than I am. That's 5'10". Next time the snowplough comes through on the street, kindly shoveling half a ton of snow in our entrance, I've no idea where we're going to put it.
So Jenö is doing an Ironman? Pffft! So what? I JUST CLEARED MY WHOLE DRIVEWAY..............................FOUR TIMES !!
So I'm going to the gym, for a STRETCHING class. Afterwards, I'm going to find out if they have a sauna, something I've never bothered checking before.
It's still snowing but I'm throwing the shovel. (Get it?)
HOURS of shoveling snow later, this is what I look like:
The snow banks on each side of my driveway are now taller than I am. That's 5'10". Next time the snowplough comes through on the street, kindly shoveling half a ton of snow in our entrance, I've no idea where we're going to put it.
So Jenö is doing an Ironman? Pffft! So what? I JUST CLEARED MY WHOLE DRIVEWAY..............................FOUR TIMES !!
So I'm going to the gym, for a STRETCHING class. Afterwards, I'm going to find out if they have a sauna, something I've never bothered checking before.
It's still snowing but I'm throwing the shovel. (Get it?)
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
Fit, She Brags
Last night, after the luxury of four days of rest, Miss Fitness, your servant, went for her usual Tuesday night: one hour aerobics followed by one hour spinning. The first class can be demanding but it's not exactly hard. I can usually breeze through it with my eyes closed and thinking about my income tax. Although I do try not to think about my income tax when I work out, because it sorts of defeats the purpose doesn't it? Where was I?
Ok, last night. About 30-35 minutes into the first not-very-hard class, after that long rest, my body suddenly groans: "That's it, no more, I'm spent, I'm done!"
"WHAT? You've got to be kidding me!" I say, with great presence of mind.
"Raaaaaahhhhh…" moans the body.
I can feel it: no more breath, no more energy, I'm running on below empty, as suddenly as hitting a wall.
Well, shit. I go and have a drink, to put a little fluid and sugar in me, wondering if and how I'm going to be able to finish the class. Around me, everybody is happily dancing along. Stupefaction and pride kick in, (ah, pride!) and I clench my teeth and mentally draw the curtains. That means I focus on "keep going", stare at the floor and no longer make eye contact or smile or appear alive, which earns me several puzzled looks from the instructor who can't understand what's going on with me. Well I can't either.
I finish the class, thankful for the abs and cool down. I walk upstairs to the spinning room and I stand there by my bike: my legs are shaking helplessly for about ten minutes. Thankfully, I have a fifteen minutes pause between the two classes. I hold my own in spinning, exhausted yes, but not feeling that wall slamming into me again. My white shirt is by then so completely soaked that it is absolutely sheer. Interesting.
So there you have it. Of course, I'm trying to find out what happened but there are so many variables that it's very difficult to pinpoint. You'll just understand why, next time someone talks about my being in shape, I might start laughing.
Vince, jog on the mountain huh?
Jëno…just…don't.
Ok, last night. About 30-35 minutes into the first not-very-hard class, after that long rest, my body suddenly groans: "That's it, no more, I'm spent, I'm done!"
"WHAT? You've got to be kidding me!" I say, with great presence of mind.
"Raaaaaahhhhh…" moans the body.
I can feel it: no more breath, no more energy, I'm running on below empty, as suddenly as hitting a wall.
Well, shit. I go and have a drink, to put a little fluid and sugar in me, wondering if and how I'm going to be able to finish the class. Around me, everybody is happily dancing along. Stupefaction and pride kick in, (ah, pride!) and I clench my teeth and mentally draw the curtains. That means I focus on "keep going", stare at the floor and no longer make eye contact or smile or appear alive, which earns me several puzzled looks from the instructor who can't understand what's going on with me. Well I can't either.
I finish the class, thankful for the abs and cool down. I walk upstairs to the spinning room and I stand there by my bike: my legs are shaking helplessly for about ten minutes. Thankfully, I have a fifteen minutes pause between the two classes. I hold my own in spinning, exhausted yes, but not feeling that wall slamming into me again. My white shirt is by then so completely soaked that it is absolutely sheer. Interesting.
So there you have it. Of course, I'm trying to find out what happened but there are so many variables that it's very difficult to pinpoint. You'll just understand why, next time someone talks about my being in shape, I might start laughing.
Vince, jog on the mountain huh?
Jëno…just…don't.
Monday, February 26, 2007
To Be or Not To Be
That's just like me, I don't write for ever, then you can't shut me up.
I don't know anybody who has ever seen Peter Weir's Gallipoli. The film is somewhat unremarkable except for the last ten minutes, which are unforgettable. And the last shot is heartwrenching. A masterly piece of film. A propos of nothing.
Talking of masterpieces, I'm reading T.E. Lawrence's "Seven Pillars of Wisdom" but it does very little for me so far.
I learned today that I was no longer considered for the role of Master of Ceremony for the conference I'm helping organize. That I was not, in fact, really expected to attend at all. Don't get me wrong, this wouldn't be the result of a demotion but the result of my qualifying on a competition.
Never have I been less enthusiastic about qualifying on a competition which is perhaps why my interlocutor got such a blank look. Perhaps was I a little melancholy at being disposed of so promptly.
But that's ok, nothing is permanent except change. Change is good. Change is the opportunity you make it to be. If change is indeed in my immediate future, I might as well have fun with it.
So I took a deep breath and I started laughing softly at how long and hard I had thought before accepting the position of MC...only to have the offer rescinded two weeks later. Heh.
I don't know anybody who has ever seen Peter Weir's Gallipoli. The film is somewhat unremarkable except for the last ten minutes, which are unforgettable. And the last shot is heartwrenching. A masterly piece of film. A propos of nothing.
Talking of masterpieces, I'm reading T.E. Lawrence's "Seven Pillars of Wisdom" but it does very little for me so far.
I learned today that I was no longer considered for the role of Master of Ceremony for the conference I'm helping organize. That I was not, in fact, really expected to attend at all. Don't get me wrong, this wouldn't be the result of a demotion but the result of my qualifying on a competition.
Never have I been less enthusiastic about qualifying on a competition which is perhaps why my interlocutor got such a blank look. Perhaps was I a little melancholy at being disposed of so promptly.
But that's ok, nothing is permanent except change. Change is good. Change is the opportunity you make it to be. If change is indeed in my immediate future, I might as well have fun with it.
So I took a deep breath and I started laughing softly at how long and hard I had thought before accepting the position of MC...only to have the offer rescinded two weeks later. Heh.
L'eucalyptus
Once upon a time, there was a little town drenched with sunshine. The trees grew tall and luxurious, fragrant flowers were in abundance. Every morning, at dawn, a rooster sang in a garden across the street. The town was bordered by the bluest sea in the world and high mountains lined the horizon on clear days.
The little girl went to a small all-girl primary school. She loved it passionately, because it took her away from the chaos of home. This was her world only, and in her world, she was a gifted student, the teacher’s pet, never lacked friends, learned with inextinguishable eagerness.
When she was eight or nine years old, her best friend was called MC. They were friends for less than a year, before circumstances separated them. Then the little girl went to high school, changed country, changed continent, became a big girl, and still kept drifting all over the place. The memory of MC, of her small school, of the small town drenched in sunshine became so distant it felt like another lifetime. She didn't think this past would ever manifest itself again other than in her mind and her dreams.
When this man called me last week, I thought it was a call from the past. I was mistaken; it was nothing but a rehearsal.
Thursday night came my true call from the past. With no warning whatsoever, MC called me from France. I don't know how she tracked me down. We had never kept in touch. How stunned I was can perhaps only be understood by my brother.
"This is another lifetime calling. Another world. Another dimension: the past."
We talked for about fifteen minutes. She hinted at very dark things in her life and I didn't pry: there would be time for it yet.
I had been someone very special in her life, back then, and she had never forgotten me. In a few simple words, she told me what I represented for her, why I had such an impact, and I was touched and moved but still dumbstruck.
We ended on promises of snail mail, for she doesn't have an email, to catch up with basically what is almost all our lives. I haven't started my letter yet. I'm still struggling to update my Weltanschauung.
The little girl went to a small all-girl primary school. She loved it passionately, because it took her away from the chaos of home. This was her world only, and in her world, she was a gifted student, the teacher’s pet, never lacked friends, learned with inextinguishable eagerness.
When she was eight or nine years old, her best friend was called MC. They were friends for less than a year, before circumstances separated them. Then the little girl went to high school, changed country, changed continent, became a big girl, and still kept drifting all over the place. The memory of MC, of her small school, of the small town drenched in sunshine became so distant it felt like another lifetime. She didn't think this past would ever manifest itself again other than in her mind and her dreams.
When this man called me last week, I thought it was a call from the past. I was mistaken; it was nothing but a rehearsal.
Thursday night came my true call from the past. With no warning whatsoever, MC called me from France. I don't know how she tracked me down. We had never kept in touch. How stunned I was can perhaps only be understood by my brother.
"This is another lifetime calling. Another world. Another dimension: the past."
We talked for about fifteen minutes. She hinted at very dark things in her life and I didn't pry: there would be time for it yet.
I had been someone very special in her life, back then, and she had never forgotten me. In a few simple words, she told me what I represented for her, why I had such an impact, and I was touched and moved but still dumbstruck.
We ended on promises of snail mail, for she doesn't have an email, to catch up with basically what is almost all our lives. I haven't started my letter yet. I'm still struggling to update my Weltanschauung.
Don't Fear The Reaper
When my bad dream turned into a nightmare, I started yelling, at the top of my voice, pausing only to get a new lungful of air.
Back when I was married, my screams sometimes translated into actual whimpers that would wake the hubby, who would in turn mercifully wake me. One inconvenience of being single is that I have no one to wake me.
The terror increased and I let out a shriek so desperate that I actually woke up. I blinked in the darkness, wondering if I had screamed out loud. A door opened and closed and a dark shape peered hesitantly into my room.
"Hey, what's up?" I said, my heart still beating wildly, covered in sweat. My son ran to my bed and slipped beside me.
"I just wanted to see why you were singing," he said. I thought that was an odd choice of word.
"Was I singing?"
"Yes." Well, I wasn't in the mood to tell him it was not singing but actually screaming in terror.
"Was I loud?"
"Yes, very loud. You stopped and started again and stopped and started again." He laughed nervously. "I was starting to believe that you were being murdered."
The truth is he was spooked; my "singing" probably didn't sound like fun at all.
He settled tightly against my back.
"Don't you know you were singing?" he asked.
"No. I was dreaming."
A beat.
"What were you dreaming about?"
"It was a nightmare," I said and we both left it at that.
We lied there for about an hour. For once I didn't mind his squirming because his body pressed against mine, his quiet breathing which I felt through his pyjama were the best antidote to the terror I had felt. Eventually, the cats started jumping on his feet, which he didn't like and I whispered to him to go back to his bed, which he did. Within minutes, we were both sound asleep.
I do wish I had someone to wake me up.
Back when I was married, my screams sometimes translated into actual whimpers that would wake the hubby, who would in turn mercifully wake me. One inconvenience of being single is that I have no one to wake me.
The terror increased and I let out a shriek so desperate that I actually woke up. I blinked in the darkness, wondering if I had screamed out loud. A door opened and closed and a dark shape peered hesitantly into my room.
"Hey, what's up?" I said, my heart still beating wildly, covered in sweat. My son ran to my bed and slipped beside me.
"I just wanted to see why you were singing," he said. I thought that was an odd choice of word.
"Was I singing?"
"Yes." Well, I wasn't in the mood to tell him it was not singing but actually screaming in terror.
"Was I loud?"
"Yes, very loud. You stopped and started again and stopped and started again." He laughed nervously. "I was starting to believe that you were being murdered."
The truth is he was spooked; my "singing" probably didn't sound like fun at all.
He settled tightly against my back.
"Don't you know you were singing?" he asked.
"No. I was dreaming."
A beat.
"What were you dreaming about?"
"It was a nightmare," I said and we both left it at that.
We lied there for about an hour. For once I didn't mind his squirming because his body pressed against mine, his quiet breathing which I felt through his pyjama were the best antidote to the terror I had felt. Eventually, the cats started jumping on his feet, which he didn't like and I whispered to him to go back to his bed, which he did. Within minutes, we were both sound asleep.
I do wish I had someone to wake me up.
Saturday, February 24, 2007
Cold
Sometimes you have to make a choice between home and work. On Thursday, partially out of guilt because I don't choose it often enough, I picked home. I was needed there. I was expected at work. I'll pay for it on Monday, I know. I needed to address some things urgently and I did. But I'm not looking forward to my boss's anger, disappointement, coldness or just plain lashing out.
Well, when I made the decision, I agreed to deal with the consequences, unpleasant as they might be.
I've not had a nice weekend.
I've had a weekend filled with anxiety.
I read "The Beach".
I watched "The Guardian".
I gave a present I had so carefully chosen and wrapped.
My son got a haircut.
Loukhi got neutered.
It's not always simple and easy, is it?
Well, when I made the decision, I agreed to deal with the consequences, unpleasant as they might be.
I've not had a nice weekend.
I've had a weekend filled with anxiety.
I read "The Beach".
I watched "The Guardian".
I gave a present I had so carefully chosen and wrapped.
My son got a haircut.
Loukhi got neutered.
It's not always simple and easy, is it?
Cold
Sometimes you have to make a choice between home and work. On Thursday,
partially out of guilt because I don't choose it often enough, I picked
home. I was needed there. I was expected at work. I'll pay for it on Monday,
I know. I needed to address some things urgently and I did. But I'm not
looking forward to my boss's anger, disappointement, coldness or just plain
lashing out.
partially out of guilt because I don't choose it often enough, I picked
home. I was needed there. I was expected at work. I'll pay for it on Monday,
I know. I needed to address some things urgently and I did. But I'm not
looking forward to my boss's anger, disappointement, coldness or just plain
lashing out.
Well, when I made the decision, I agreed to deal with the consequences,
unpleasant as they might be.
I've not had a nice weekend.
I've had a weekend filled with anxiety.
I read "The Beach".
I watched "The Guardian".
I gave a present I had so carefully chosen and wrapped.
My son got a haircut.
Loukhi got neutered.
It's not always simple and easy, is it?
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Hello in Haste
I'm going to lose my entire readership if I keep on neglecting my blog! I've just spent a month in Belleville, Ontario, the last two days. Among all the boring places in the world, I'd say Belleville can hold its head high. Perhaps as a result, our meeting was remarkably productive.
After my bed, it was my fridge's turn to die on me. I bought a new one. I have a shiny, brand new, all white Frigidaire. I know you'll be as thrilled as I am about this exciting piece of news.
(My bank manager keeps calling me. I don't know why because I don't return his calls. Just kidding.)
Work is going well if pretty fast and in several directions. Home is going well, cats and kid are thriving. It's funny how I'm too busy living my life these days to have time writing about it. But don't despair. I'm sure I'll be back soon with new and improved ways of messing up one way or another.
In the meantime, be safe y'all!
After my bed, it was my fridge's turn to die on me. I bought a new one. I have a shiny, brand new, all white Frigidaire. I know you'll be as thrilled as I am about this exciting piece of news.
(My bank manager keeps calling me. I don't know why because I don't return his calls. Just kidding.)
Work is going well if pretty fast and in several directions. Home is going well, cats and kid are thriving. It's funny how I'm too busy living my life these days to have time writing about it. But don't despair. I'm sure I'll be back soon with new and improved ways of messing up one way or another.
In the meantime, be safe y'all!
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
L'horloge
"Souviens-toi que le temps est un joueur avide
Qui gagne sans tricher
A tout coup
C'est la loi"
Beaudelaire
Last night my phone rang and, somewhat tentatively, a voice reached out from the past. I once adored this man. Three years ago, this call would have filled my heart with delirious happiness.
Stunned, I pretended I was glad to hear from him until I could figure out how I truly felt about it. Later on, it all came back, what I had not thought about in years. I was reminded of him, of shared fits of laughter, of harsh, unforgivable words.
What happened since? Time happened. Two years ago, an unrelated event rocked my world and in the smouldering aftermath, I realized this man did not matter in my life. I don't think he can ever matter again. There's no anger or resentment, only indifference. I'm sorry.
Qui gagne sans tricher
A tout coup
C'est la loi"
Beaudelaire
Last night my phone rang and, somewhat tentatively, a voice reached out from the past. I once adored this man. Three years ago, this call would have filled my heart with delirious happiness.
Stunned, I pretended I was glad to hear from him until I could figure out how I truly felt about it. Later on, it all came back, what I had not thought about in years. I was reminded of him, of shared fits of laughter, of harsh, unforgivable words.
What happened since? Time happened. Two years ago, an unrelated event rocked my world and in the smouldering aftermath, I realized this man did not matter in my life. I don't think he can ever matter again. There's no anger or resentment, only indifference. I'm sorry.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Why Ask Why?
I'm so in love with my new mattress set I wanted to put a picture of it on my blog. My friend protested, saying it would be too suggestive. Well, I wasn't going to post a picture of the bed with us in it! I think he's just jealous because he's secretly in love with my new bed too.
I've forgotten how to skate. Apparently, skating is not like riding a bicycle. You do forget. It's been what? Twenty-seven years? So I want to give it a go again but for some reason, I'm not particularly keen on looking like a spread-out-octopus-on-ice (enjoy the image). I don't know why, for I'm usually not overly concerned with saving face. I've no qualms skiing for instance, and I ski badly. But for some reason, I've decided I wanted to find my skate-legs back on my own. It's not easy finding empty rinks. I'm probably going to develop a reputation as a pervert for haunting deserted rinks late at night.
Last week I was confronted to someone who reads my blog faithfully yet displays no interest whatsoever in its author as a person. I thought it was a paradox and like paradoxes typically do, it had me puzzled. Then lightening struck and, peering into the eyes of a miniature black purring cat, I suddenly wondered: "Why ask why?"
I believe this is going to become my mantra, my motto, my resolution for 2007. I'm going to develop a philosophy of taking things exactly as they are, and saving the time and energy to wonder why they are like that. Stop wondering why people behave the way they do. Stop wondering why people do the things they do. Stop wondering why people say or don’t say the things they say or don't say. Stop wondering why things happen that way and no other. Stop wondering why I'm so successful at this and such a disaster at that. Stop wondering why.
Why ask why? My Wondering Neurone has been in overdrive for too long. Can you shut it down Bridge? Can you accept things as they are? Can you let go without dissecting? Can you just let it be? You like personal challenges, girlfriend, here’s a good one for you.
(No worries, I often talk to myself…my psychiatrist says it’s normal. All the people in my head say so too.)
I've forgotten how to skate. Apparently, skating is not like riding a bicycle. You do forget. It's been what? Twenty-seven years? So I want to give it a go again but for some reason, I'm not particularly keen on looking like a spread-out-octopus-on-ice (enjoy the image). I don't know why, for I'm usually not overly concerned with saving face. I've no qualms skiing for instance, and I ski badly. But for some reason, I've decided I wanted to find my skate-legs back on my own. It's not easy finding empty rinks. I'm probably going to develop a reputation as a pervert for haunting deserted rinks late at night.
Last week I was confronted to someone who reads my blog faithfully yet displays no interest whatsoever in its author as a person. I thought it was a paradox and like paradoxes typically do, it had me puzzled. Then lightening struck and, peering into the eyes of a miniature black purring cat, I suddenly wondered: "Why ask why?"
I believe this is going to become my mantra, my motto, my resolution for 2007. I'm going to develop a philosophy of taking things exactly as they are, and saving the time and energy to wonder why they are like that. Stop wondering why people behave the way they do. Stop wondering why people do the things they do. Stop wondering why people say or don’t say the things they say or don't say. Stop wondering why things happen that way and no other. Stop wondering why I'm so successful at this and such a disaster at that. Stop wondering why.
Why ask why? My Wondering Neurone has been in overdrive for too long. Can you shut it down Bridge? Can you accept things as they are? Can you let go without dissecting? Can you just let it be? You like personal challenges, girlfriend, here’s a good one for you.
(No worries, I often talk to myself…my psychiatrist says it’s normal. All the people in my head say so too.)
Thursday, February 08, 2007
All Things Great and Small
Loukhi is growing and thriving. Unfortunately, due no doubt to an early childhood trauma, she can't stand to be picked up. She squirms and claws her way out until you all but drop her. Otherwise, she's friendly and cuddly as can be, and her tiny diesel is a regular vibration against me as I fall asleep.
SYWRD came for a visit. I think I'll never get a chance to get to know him better and I, the girl who doesn't Believe in regrets, will always deeply regret that. My email remained un-acknowledged but that part belongs to him. I will neither argue, insist, nor speculate... but I'll always regret it profondément.
Something wonderful happened to the Terror, a.k.a. the Papou, a.k.a. my son. I had long ago applied to the Big Brothers of Canada program to find him a big brother. The waiting was so long (years) I had all but given up. But suddenly it came through and he's been teamed up with a Big Brother. We met Him for the first time last Monday night and the two seem to hit it off pretty well. Yannick was so keen, and delighted, and eager, and thrilled, and shy, it was pretty heart-wrenching. I hope it will work out for them, I'll do everything in MY power to make it so but I won't be involved much, it's their show.
I've pretty much stopped talking about TLM, first because there isn't that much to tell but also because I realized this was one area I feel private about. Sorry for interrupting the soap, my Southern Chinese readers. Hey, you never know when he might pop back up. Keep the faith.
Finally, I seem to come out of my physical plateau-ing. Improvement is on it's way again. Last night, we were doing abs and while some other girls were groaning in pain and I realized that I myself could have actually gone on for quite a while. What a good feeling! Bring them on!
SYWRD came for a visit. I think I'll never get a chance to get to know him better and I, the girl who doesn't Believe in regrets, will always deeply regret that. My email remained un-acknowledged but that part belongs to him. I will neither argue, insist, nor speculate... but I'll always regret it profondément.
Something wonderful happened to the Terror, a.k.a. the Papou, a.k.a. my son. I had long ago applied to the Big Brothers of Canada program to find him a big brother. The waiting was so long (years) I had all but given up. But suddenly it came through and he's been teamed up with a Big Brother. We met Him for the first time last Monday night and the two seem to hit it off pretty well. Yannick was so keen, and delighted, and eager, and thrilled, and shy, it was pretty heart-wrenching. I hope it will work out for them, I'll do everything in MY power to make it so but I won't be involved much, it's their show.
I've pretty much stopped talking about TLM, first because there isn't that much to tell but also because I realized this was one area I feel private about. Sorry for interrupting the soap, my Southern Chinese readers. Hey, you never know when he might pop back up. Keep the faith.
Finally, I seem to come out of my physical plateau-ing. Improvement is on it's way again. Last night, we were doing abs and while some other girls were groaning in pain and I realized that I myself could have actually gone on for quite a while. What a good feeling! Bring them on!
Wednesday, February 07, 2007
Nothing To Declare
A better day than yesterday, although that was not hard to beat!
After burning myself up at the gym, I slept like a baby and my spirits improved greatly.
I've been offered the role of co-Master of Ceremony for the next conference I'm helping organize. It's the kind of personal challenge I will probably not be able to resist, even though my first instinct is to run. Since I'm rather afraid of doing it, it will most likely seal my acceptance. Besides, it will give me something concrete to focus on, because my motivation on this project is under the weather for reasons I cannot expand on.
I feel mischievous, a state which usually results in practical jokes. Somebody tie me up.
Tomorrow, my brand new, super comfortable, luxurious, and hopefully sinful bed will be delivered. Can’t wait to stretch on it and roll over without springs loudly complaining. I bet I’m going to become real popular with the cats for a while! (Of course, I’m kidding. I’m ALWAYS popular with the cats. My head is quite swollen about it.)
Tonight, another three hours of sweating scheduled. Life CAN be good. Thanks for putting a good word in for me Miss C!
After burning myself up at the gym, I slept like a baby and my spirits improved greatly.
I've been offered the role of co-Master of Ceremony for the next conference I'm helping organize. It's the kind of personal challenge I will probably not be able to resist, even though my first instinct is to run. Since I'm rather afraid of doing it, it will most likely seal my acceptance. Besides, it will give me something concrete to focus on, because my motivation on this project is under the weather for reasons I cannot expand on.
I feel mischievous, a state which usually results in practical jokes. Somebody tie me up.
Tomorrow, my brand new, super comfortable, luxurious, and hopefully sinful bed will be delivered. Can’t wait to stretch on it and roll over without springs loudly complaining. I bet I’m going to become real popular with the cats for a while! (Of course, I’m kidding. I’m ALWAYS popular with the cats. My head is quite swollen about it.)
Tonight, another three hours of sweating scheduled. Life CAN be good. Thanks for putting a good word in for me Miss C!
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
And the band played on
Today sucked, just like I feared it would except somewhat worse. Then I got home to find my son screaming at the top of his lungs in an all out fit of temper. I walked straight back out the door.
Workout and spinning. I pushed it. I pushed it until my legs shook, until my vision dimmed, until I was so tired even getting OFF the bike seemed like a lot.
Bath. Dodo.
Workout and spinning. I pushed it. I pushed it until my legs shook, until my vision dimmed, until I was so tired even getting OFF the bike seemed like a lot.
Bath. Dodo.
Monday, February 05, 2007
Sunshine, Cold Air and Happiness
Saturday was a magical day, full of unexpected events. I got up that morning without a clue of what was in store for me. I went to bed that night filled with happiness, the kind that I will store away and savour for weeks to come.
It's hard, when you've been so high, not to sort of crash down afterwards. I hope this week will not be too brutal an awakening. Go on, Life, now's the time to prove me that you won't make me pay an exhorbitant price for every minute of happiness you bestowed on me. Come on, Life, give me a wonderful week and perhaps I'll consider trusting you again.
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