Janica

I know the world is never short of tragedies. Yesterday, my heart went out to an abandoned cat in New York.
Today, as a crying woman blurted a tragic story, I struggled for composure.

In the small city where I work, Janica, a healthy, vibrant 26 years old, gave birth a month ago to twin girls. She, her boyfriend and family were ecstatic.

A month later, she was diagnosed with being riddled with cancer, in the brain, the liver, the lungs, and given two months to live. The doctors in Quebec refused to give her any treatment, saying that it wouldn't help and she was a lost cause.

Janica was a fitness instructor, who doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, eats healthy. They were flabbergasted. Her whole family gathered behind her and refused to accept the death sentence, and Janica went to Florida, where some doctors are willing to treat her with radiation. That's where she is right now. It was a hard decision to leave her baby girls. But Janica is a fighter. She's fighting.

Her grand-mother set up a web page to keep people updated, to receive words or encouragement and donations.
It is only in French however.

It would take a miracle. She's a young, brand new mother of twins, determined to live. It will take a miracle. Please join me in prayers for Janica and her family.

Atonement

Movies rushing from theatres to DVD faster and faster, I rented Atonement last night a mere two months after it was last on the big screen.. Here's my take on it.

The cinematography was exquisite, as was the cast, with one exception, which I will complain about further down.

James McAvoy: I discovered him in "The Last King of Scotland" and could never understand that Forrest Whitaker was nominated for an Oscar while McAvoy was not even acknowledged. McAvoy was wonderful in Last King, as he is in Atonement. I proclaim him the best actor of his generation, conveying an array of emotions without even opening his mouth in a way famous stars like Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise can only dream about. McAvoy, I salute you.



Keira Knightley: I saw her in "Pirates", and enjoyed her in the delightful "Sense and Sensibility". In Atonement, I must admit that my attention was totally distracted away from her acting by her absence of breasts. The lady is flat. She's like a walking advertisement for double mastectomy. As delightful as she was in her long, flowing, glamorous green dress, the minute she turned sideways, something didn't look right. Since I am a heterosexual woman, when I'm completely distracted by the absence of breasts of an individual, it gives you an idea about how blatant it is. Don't get me wrong, I am GLAD that British movies do not feel they have to adhere to American standards of every lead actress being physically perfect… and totally stereotyped. But but but… ask me how was Knightley in that movie, that will be my only answer: flat!



As for Briony, ah ha, Briony! She's played by two actresses, one when she is thirteen, the other when she is eighteen. The thirteen year-old is all ethereal, marvellous elfin grace, with long brittle limbs and a ravishing pointed face, emphasised by only dressing in white. She's delightful to watch, even when we can't like what she's doing.




The eighteen year-old, however, is where casting suddenly took a bad turn. The elfin pixie suddenly metamorphoses into a graceless blonde with marked features and a sullen expression. You vainly look for the magic that was in the younger girl. The older Brionny has no charm, no beauty, no expression, not much at all, really, except round blue eyes. It's like going from sips of Ambrosia to a prosaic plate of hamburger and fries. A dull awakening.

Overall, Wright's movie exudes once again an old fashion charm that I can't resist. The photography alone is worth seeing. I enjoyed it very much.

Like the flowers need the rain...

Movies don't agree with me these days. I've just watched "Enchanted" because I had read good reviews and thought it would be funny. I won't be able to eat sugar for about two weeks it was so sweet. Sirupy sweet. Nauseatingly sweet. I am NOT in the mood for fairy tales. My bad. The only sweet thing I can handle right now is the sight of my cat sleeping.

Put a picture here of my cat sleeping.

Blogger won't let me. I'll do it later.


There is tension and disagreement in my home. They are unavoidable in life. Will they bring not only winds of change but storms of changes? It's too early to tell. But for the first time since I moved in this house, and loved it passionately, I face the possibility of leaving it. Nothing is constant but change.

Whatever.

Will your lights be out tonight between 8 and 9 PM? Mine will. How often can you show solidarity with the whole planet?
(solidarity to? solidarity with?...????)

I went on Amazon yesterday and splurged on four Dickens. That will get my mind off of things for a while.

Caught!

So with this new toy of mine, here I am minding my own business and suddenly, paf! It takes a picture of me.
It has a camera! It can even film me!
HAL? Is that you HAL?

My New Toy

Being comfortable with my masculine side, I sometimes thoroughly enjoy a new toy.
Look at that! The size, the lines, the design.
<<<<<<<<<<< happy sigh >>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Striving For Perfection

"Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try Again. Fail again. Fail better."
~ Samuel Beckett

Oh my cats! My babies!

Horrible dream this morning. I finally get back home after an absence of a month and a half and I'm terrified of the state I'm gonna find my cats in, as they have been locked there the whole time. All the cats I ever had were there plus a great many others. The sight is horrific. While Circé, Koba and a few others great me feebly, bone skinny, others are already dead or dying, there are cat parts all over the place from those who died or were eaten. Here an eyeball, there a head. My emotional state is beyond description. I find many molded edible things that they haven't touched. I tear up a bag of food and worry that I won't have enough for all, whereas the survivors need to eat right away if they're to last another day. Oh the pity, the angst, the guilt, the sorrow, the horror!

After that I wake up and go have an ordinary day at the office.

Weather Report

Y'all have seen what the snow looked like before Christmas around here. I saw a big snowplow in a shopping center shooting up snow onto a snow wall three stories high. Quite a sight. Then it snowed again and we went from raising our arms in dismay to dropping them in resignation.

But things change quickly here. Yesterday January 10, at the heart of winter, all that snow was gone after a mere week of rain and temperatures in the 10 Celcius. Melted. You could see the brown grass in lawns. Sidewalks were perfectly clean and dry. More astonishing yet, the Richelieu River is completely thawed. Entirely. Not even floating ice. The whole region looked to be about Mid-March. At the heart of winter.

This morning, when I woke up, the world was white again. How plants and wild animals can adapt to such erratic conditions, I've no idea. It's all so strange.

Jour d'une vie où l'aube se lève...

Comme un enfant aux yeux de lumière
Qui voit passer au loin les oiseaux
Comme l'oiseau bleu survolant la terre
Vois comme le monde, le monde est beau

Beau le bateau, dansant sur les vagues
Ivre de vie, d'amour et de vent
Belle la chanson naissante des vagues
Abandonnée au sable blanc

Blanc l'innocent, le sang du poète
Qui en chantant, invente l'amour
Pour que la vie s'habille de fête
Et que la nuit se change en jour

Jour d'une vie où l'aube se lève
Pour réveiller la ville aux yeux lourds
Où les matins effeuillent les rêves
Pour nous donner un monde d'amour

L'amour c'est toi, l'amour c'est moi
L'oiseau c'est toi, l'enfant c'est moi

Moi qui ne suis qu'une fille de l'ombre
Qui voit briller l'étoile du soir
Toi mon étoile qui tisse ma ronde
Viens allumer mon soleil noir

Noire la misère, les hommes et la guerre
Qui croient tenir les rênes du temps
Pays d'amour n'a pas de frontière
Pour ceux qui ont un cœur d'enfant

Comme un enfant aux yeux de lumière
Qui voit passer au loin les oiseaux
Comme l'oiseau bleu survolant la terre
Nous trouverons ce monde d'amour
L'amour c'est toi, l'enfant c'est moi
L'oiseau c'est toi, l'enfant c'est moi

After The Storm

Lots of snow.

Looooots of snow.

Did I mention a little snow? The trench to go out the door goes up to my hips.


Rare, recent, candid picture of the Papou who's otherwise at the wonderful stage of making horrible faces any time he sees a camera pointed his way.


"What do you mean 'dignity'?" asks Luritja.

Sunday Snow Storm

Luritja is conserving energy.


When photographed, first look composed.



We're in the middle of a snowstorm. There's something very cosy about a snowstorm when you're warm and safe inside.

I got Yannick's two main Christmas presents on Ebay. It was on Nov. 11 and 13. I received notice of shipment yesterday, Dec. 15.

This means the presents won't be there on time for Christmas morning.

All I got were vague and lousy excuses. The M*** F*** of a seller (subsequentely refered to as MFS) offered a partial refund on the price of shipping, which has yet to materialize so I don't really believe it. And when confronted by email with the fact that I would have no presents for my boy under the tree, he suddenly went MIA.

I am so spitting mad at MFS that I could do him bodily harm. Rage, when without an outlet, is corrosive. Powerlessness only makes it worse. I am so angry it feels like molted iron.

On His Door

" No trespassing to all cookie eaters except me"

Restless

Pull my chin, stroke my hair, scratch my nose, hug my knees
Try drink, food, cigarette, tension will not ease
I tap my fingers, fold my arms, breathe in deep, cross my legs
Shrug my shoulders, stretch my back - but nothing seems
to please

I need contact
I need contact
Nothing seems to please
I need contact

O Tannenbaum

In my house, we believe in tiny, understated Christmas decorations.


Nothing huge.


Like this small Christmas tree...

My Other Birthday Bouquet

And oh, sooooo fragrant it is...

A. R. F. N. F.

My birthday bouquet.

Renovations

My mother's quarters and stairs used to be covered in an ugly beige carpet.



Our wonderful handyman changed that for oak. Much nicer.

Daily Cats

Luritja keeps watch over the potatoes.
(Yes, my cats are finally coming out of the closet and their real names shall be used from now on.)



Male bonding.
(As intelectual as male bonding usually is.)



Luritja tries to deal with his hectic life.




Circe pouts.

Since a picture is worth a thousand words, I'm going to post a few that are far from technical or artistic feats, but that are snapshots of my life, and revealing as such.



This, one would think, is an ordinary bathroom. WRONG! This is the spatious, gorgeous bathroom that has replaced the little dark hole that was there before, with an sinister unfinished ceiling, a square shower so tiny I couldn't even wash my hair and about a square foot of space to change. So this, in my eyes, beats the most luxurious, vast and expensive bathroom there can be.




Painted a sober and serene desert shade called Shiatsu, it's a pleasure to step in every time.

Une belle et grande... famille

When a black cat tells you it's time to update your blog... you just shut up and do it.

Yesterday, I learned of an interesting fact during an otherwise boring training session.
In Quebec, the current percentage of households composed of a father, a mother and two children (born of those two parents), in other words the traditional family model in Western societies is:

7 %


Do you see how meaningful that is? It means we continue to operate on a model of family and society that simply no longer reflects the reality, that has in fact become the exception! All the values, the traditions, the instruction, the economic factors should be reviewed to adapt to the new reality. I should stop feeling like a failure for not providing my son with the traditional model, I'm the norm!!! (Ok, I say this tongue in cheek)
But on a socio-economic level, and many others, I find that a very significant statictic.

A Midwinter Morning Dream

Aliens Among Us!

The cat is finally out of the bag! Aliens, all of'em!

Integrity

Food for thoughts:

Integrity: doing the right things for the right reasons


Personal comment: Woah! What a powerful notion.

Laconically

On my way back from work...






And they wonder why I won't live in Montreal...





Regina, SK




Mr and Mrs Smith




Estorbo's Canadian competition.
Which is which? No clue!

Untitled

Photo credits unknown

Day 3

Yesterday was not so good but today I relaxed and had fun. They have this WONDERFUL thing called mandalas: they're abstract designs that you can color in, photocopies left available on each table. That's right, they don't mind if you color while they talk, because it has been proven that while people are coloring they're paying attention.

Let me tell you I'm going to town on that one. I bought myself my own box of crayons, and I'm being VERY productive, handing in several completed mandalas per day. It makes all the difference for me.

Other than that, I have remarkably little to report… class, hotel, class, hotel.

Still, tomorrow is Friday, and Fridays are ALWAYS fun because we know we have two days off looming.
I miss my workouts terribly. I went running for 45 minutes the day before yesterday and I'm all sore today!!! Sore from running? What is this? Am I not in shape? It's disgusting I tell you.

J asked me about curling in SK. Here was my answer:

All right so Curling is the official sport of Saskatchewan.

To celebrate their sport, every hotel has a miniature rink for clients in addition to a gym.
In the big league, the rinks in SK are twice the standard length of other rinks because the country is so flat, the slide just keeps going, and going, and going…

Glad I taught you something today. Even happier that it's perfect nonsense.

Regina I

Marie thinks I feel crappy. Another friend thinks I sound hem...tense.
Just because I curse out loud a few times? You guys are so uptight.

Well, I'm feeling "crappy and tense" in Regina, as we speak.
In truth, all problems take on a certain perspective when considered in the middle of hundreds of miles of nothing. It gives a brand new twist to the saying "middle of nowhere".

Today I will meet all kinds of enormously friendly people. I start with a headache. Lol. I'm gonna go up to my room, take an Advil and practice my smile and my patience. Even with people who have so obviously never travelled in their lives that this Regina entirely organized trip is making them completely flustered, lost and helpless. (A breakfast voucher? when did they give me that? at the airport? what ID? what credit card imprint?)

Remind me to tell you about the hotel's Spa when I get a minute.

So what's the mood so far? how does "corrosif" sound? Swyrd, translation?

In The Corner Losing My Illusions

This original post was two pages long. How's that for editing?

For so long, I believed: "Everything is possible." It's time to face it: THERE ARE THINGS YOU ARE NOT GOING TO GET, NO MATTER HOW DESPERATLY YOU WANT THEM, NO MATTER HOW BASIC YOU THINK THEY ARE, AND NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU THINK YOU DESERVED THEM.

It goes against every popular trend: Everything is possible! Create the life you want! Think positive to bring good things in your life! Believe you can have anything and you will!

To hell with **positive** thinkers. Fuck off, The Secret. Hope is just too damaging in the long run. I’ll still have good moments before I die.

Bora Bora Be Damned

If you're like most people, you've always dreamed of taking a trip to Regina, Saskatchewan.

What do you mean, NO? Ok, then you're just weird.

I, on the other hand, have been offered the chance of a lifetime, not one, but TWO weeks in popular, glamorous, much sought-after Regina, Saskatchewan. I'll admit that it was hard to contain my excitement at first. I couldn't stop bragging about it to anybody and everybody.
"Yes, I'll have a large coffee with two milk. Gee I wonder if they have such good coffee in Regina, Saskatchewan where, incidentally I'm going soon."
"The gas is not too expensive this week. When I'm in Regina Saskatchewan, next week, I'll compare prices with here."
And so on and so forth.

There were four hotels advertised for the trip and when I read that one of them allowed pets, I asked no less than four friends of mine to come along for the trip. I mean the definition of pet is somewhat personal right?

They all turned me down but in the end it's just as well because I learned that I had been assigned to the lowest, cheapest of the four hotels, which doesn't allow pets anyway. I'm not going to let that ruin it for me. I'm bringing a rubber ducky.

I leave next Monday.

Nightbiking Deserves a Quiet Night

Friday night, I couldn't sleep. I got up, got dressed and sneaked out to go for an impromptu bike ride. I enjoyed the speed, the freedom, the freezing wind.
This is the moment The Squirrel chose to try to throw himself in my front wheel.
He's fine. He's under suicide watch at H.M. hospital.
The bike is fine if a little muddy.
I took the brunt of the fall. Nothing bad, but the most extensive scrape I've had for years. Bare arm on pavement and then gravel. Amusing.

I'm in a foul mood. A combination of hurt, frustration and hopelessness. Nothing to do but to wait for it to go away. Perhaps I could punch a customer or two today, I'd feel so much better.

Back From The Limbs

It is time for me to pick the pen back up (that's a figure of speech) and to resume my wanderings on the personal space I call my blog. I've probably lost all my regular readers, and they will be mourned. I'm confident I've also lost the only unwelcome one and I feel very good about that.

Things have changed somewhat during my absence. I am now settled in a comfortable routine at the new office. Not a working day goes by during which I don't savour the proximity to my house.

I bought a bike in the Fall sales, the first one I own in fourteen years!!! Bikes have changed quite a bit in that time, but you still have to push the pedals to go forward. J showed up last week with a brand new bike bottle and lights for the front and back, for night biking. For me. How sweet is that?
So weather permitting, I go to the gym on my bike, following the river. Most extremely enjoyable. On the ride back, at night, I've had some very, very beautiful sights of a glass-like river with the reflection of the mountain. Very peaceful and zen.

Since J and I have an ongoing spook match (score is 2-2), the other night I went and parked on a quiet street by the river. I wrapped myself in a black cloak so as to be invisible in the bushes if I didn't move. Then I waited for J to pass by me on his bike. But while waiting, I sat in the grass, watching the water dance by, caressed by a warm wind, in the shelter of obscurity and I had a moment of pure happiness.

I’ve had some work done on my house. Nothing very exciting except turning a tiny, dark wardrobe of a bathroom (Vince knows it well) into something more decent and practical. It’s coming along very nicely and I’ll post a picture when the transformation is complete.

All else is the same; my son: noisy, Fatso: well, fat; Grumpy: well grumpy, and Loukhi: a smart cookie.

Hey WELCOME BACK Brig, you’ve been missed!

Here's a picture of what bath time should be like, according to cats (no these aren't mine)
A


and not B