Has it really been a week since my last Monday daylog? Unbelievable.

I had a good weekend; well, a good week in fact. Entirely due to being able to spend every night but one with Anna. We didn't do anything special (well...), but just having her there every night was amazing.

The weekend was great, except for one scare. We spent all Saturday morning together, watching movies (Cube is very good), until she had to go to work. She was going to be back late that night, as she had to spend some time with family after work. At 11:30, about the time I was expecting her, my sister told me that Anna had called, and that I should call her back (my mobile was on charge). I call her back, and she says something that makes my heart jump into my throat: 'I've been in a car accident'.

I calm down a bit, as I realise if she was hurt, she probably wouldn't be calling me. I ask anyway, of course, but she says she's fine, but that she wants me with her; Dad agrees to drive me down there.

On the way there, I'm not too worried, as Anna said she was fine. I was sort of excited in fact, I hadn't really been close to the scene of an accident, and she had said her car was unable to move, so it might be spectacular (it wasn't).

Then I get to thinking, what if What if the car had been coming a bit faster, and hadn't been on the passenger side? What if I hadn't got a call from Anna, but from her parents, or the police? Telling me there's been an accident, and I should come over? Immediately, I could feel myself getting angry at whoever the asshole was that had put her in danger, that had created these possibilities, these fears in my mind. What the hell would I do if I lost her?

These feelings didn't last too long, though, really. I've always had these fears, and I'm not naturally an angry person, even though I'd like to be sometimes, just to get some things out of my system.

So, when we got there, there wasn't much mess; the guy had swerved into the front passenger side of Anna's car, denting the front panels, but hitting hard enough to somehow twist the wheel or something, and damage the driveshaft, which is why it couldn't move. (We found out today it's a write-off, at $3000 (AU). This is not good.) Anna was there with her parents, waiting for the tow truck to come and take the car. The guy who hit her was there too, with his friends, who were apparently in the car at the time. He wasn't drunk or anything (thank god, or I think I really would've been furious), but it's obvious that the people in the car probably distracted him. He says he swerved into her from the middle lane, and just didn't see her, but a witness had said that it looked like he came from straight on, and I don't really think he could have done as much damage as he did if he'd just side-swiped the car. So we think he's lying. At least he told the police it was his fault.

What really sucks, however, is that he had little to no damage to his car, and could drive off, leaving Anna's car to be towed, and now to be written off by the insurance company. How unfair is that? She's going to have to pay out however much to either find a new car, or more likely, try to get it fixed somewhere, and all she was doing was driving safely along a highway. Bah, society sucks.

So, anyway, that was our bit of excitement for the weekend. Anna is extremely annoyed, she loved her car, and it took them a long time to find it; I'm extremely annoyed, because it means that I'll hardly get to see her for the next couple of weeks, because she's got no way to get to my house, unless she can find a cheap rent car. Damn that irresponsible bastard.

back to October 19, 2001 | on to Dreams of October 22, 2001
Boy, I sure did need this weekend. I needed to dance my little ass off to the wonderful sounds of happy hardcore, I needed to roll, I needed for six blissful hours to believe that everything was okay, and that nothing could ever go wrong. Ever again.

Spree was playing in Springfield, MO, so me, Kimonade, our friend Mr. Grumpy Butt and his 'boy' hereafter referred to as "baby-girl" piled into Kim's little silver Jetta and took off. The drive was ever so much fun. Kim's little tape adapter for her portable CD player was totally out of commission (I'd told her that she's needed a new one for at least six months now, silly girl), so I drove myself nuts scanning for radio stations that didn't play country music (try this in southeastern Kansas kids, it's fun!) but it was all good and there was one hell of a sunset.

We make our way to the hotel where we have reservations. Well, guess what? Hotel screwed up the reservations, we have no place to go, and something's up in this little podunk down this weekend because for some reason, every hotel is either at or nearly at capacity. We find our way to a place called the Scottish Inn which, in a twist of irony, is owned by people of Middle Eastern descent. They are nice and give us a room, so we have a place to chill and relax at before the party. I'm learning that all these out of town raves turn into misadventures. If we don't lose our hotel reservations, we get pulled over by the cops, the party gets moved to another city, we get stuck in a scary St. Louis ghetto...something always happens.

The important thing is that it always works out for the best. The party was k-rad. It was only $12 and was the best little party ever! The venue was tiny (I think it was a juice bar during the day), but it had a dance floor which is the important thing. We got there and some nice house was playing so we started to get down. After house DJ #1 came house DJ #2 with some hard house. Can't resist the crunchy stuff. This was all prelude to the real deal, the DJ Spree.

A lot of people hate happy hardcore, but I just don't get it. When Spree plays, the vibe is so thick you have to wade through it. Everyone's out on the floor bouncing their hearts out, singing along, smiling like crazy. Spree himself is just too fucking cute to be real, of all the DJ's I've seen, he is the one who looks most like he's so fucking happy to be up there doing his thing. At the start of the set they were throwing out little beach balls and I caught one. Later, I was up at the front holding it and the cute MC guy saw me and was like, "Do you want that signed?" So I passed it up to him and he got Spree to sign it for me during the set. Spree spun for two solid hours and I didn't sit down once. It rocked my world.

After Spree was done, Kim, Mr. GB, and I went outside (gotta love parties with free re-entry!) for a much needed break from dancing. We were outside listening to a kid from Germany tell us how his babysitter took him to a rave and fed him half a pill when he was nine when baby-girl comes out, all pissed because we 'left him all alone in there.' Listen kid, you're at a rave and you're rolling, there is no such thing as all alone. I'm so glad that I don't have to date gay boys. They're fucking adorable but can be such drama queens. Not wanting to deal with drama, I went back inside to dance. The breakbeats playing inside sounded yummy.

As I was dancing, I saw Spree leaving the little stage area and I told him how much I enjoyed the set. He gave me a hug and told me to enjoy the beach ball. :) Then I saw cute MC guy on the floor and told him thanks and gave him a hug. He was all like, "You looked like you were having such a good time out there..." Oh, I was. I was all gettin' down to the breaks and a guy comes up to me and is all like, "I just had to come talk to you, because you've been going all night. You're incredible." It was so sweet.

I could have stayed and danced forever, but drama-boy wanted to leave so we headed for the door. Cute MC guy stops me and asks for my number. He'll never call me, he lives in St. Louis and all, but it was an ego boost just the same. We headed back to the Scottish Inn for a few hours of shut eye before the long trip back.

Despite the drama, a good time was had by all. :)

Well I’ve had a shit weekend. On Saturday night on my way to by bf’s house a fuck wit smashed into my car, he was either distracted or just not looking where he was going. It seems so unbelievable because I was on a highway with three lanes and I saw no cars near me at the time, he said that he was in the middle lane and changing lanes and just didn’t see me. Bull shit, the damage done to my car the witness ( I had a witness who saw everything and told me what happened) said that the guy came in from the side, hit me with the front of his car, smashed my side door, my front panel, my lights, my drive shaft so that the car had to be towed. He must have been going fast to have done that much damage, it is a write off. This is such a inconvenience, I have exams to go to and places to go, I can’t live without my car, further more I already have enough troubles on my plate with still trying to get the computer company that I brought my computer off to pay for a new monitor since the less than 3 yr old monitor I had that is still under warranty blew up and is unrepairable. I can’t believe how much bad luck I’ve been having. It seems never ending, and I have my 21st birthday parties yet still to organise. God knows what other disasters are on my way.

The only good thing so far was that I had a bf to call up after the accident make me feel better, I spent the weekend with him, we had such a great bonking session but unfortunately had to take public transport back the next morning. I don’t know how I’m going to survive. I can’t find any car rentals that would allow me to rent because I’m under 21, BY LESS THAN ONE MONTH!!!!. I have nothing on my licence, no speeding fines, nothing!!! I can get my full licence now but I have no way of going to VIC ROADS. My parents are shit heads at the moment and won’t let me use their cars, especially not to see my bf over the weekend and there is no public transport on the weekend or late at night in order for me to get there or for him to get here. The only good luck I’ve had this year was finding him.

I would like to listen to ‘The Sharp’ music but my cd player is fucked and I don’t have the other cd of ‘The Sharp’ because the place my bf got it from for me forgot to put the cd in the cd case! So he has to go back there some time to get it. I was thinking of getting a cd player stereo for my car but that’s pointless because I don’t fucking have a car to put one in, not that I could afford it anyways. I’m missing my hands free set for my mobile phone (it was in my car when it got towed Saturday night, but not in there when I inspected the cost of the damage this Monday morning) so that’s another thing I have to buy again. I still have to go shopping, but I can’t, I can’t fucking go anywhere!!!.

I am not in a good mood, and I am not having a good day. Fucking internet wasn’t working cause my isp went down. I still have to pay my mobile phone bill and make an appointment at the doctors. I wish the fuck wit that hit me will get a fine and a loss of licence or something from the police because idiots like that should not even have their licence. I called them up about if they have made a claim from their insurance yet, they hadn’t, so I have to wait until they do. They don’t seem to be too stressed about it, why should they, it is not their car that is a write off, they are not at an inconvenience when the fuck wits car is still drivable.

I need to start doing studying, and eat something. I can’t wait for tonight, a friend organised to go out to dinner to cheer me up. Plus I get to see my gorgeous one.

What do you do, when a girl you're in love with, and whom loves you, during one of your regular heated arguments tells you she can't handle this, and that she doesn't want to be friends anymore, or ever speak to you again?

This girl still has her old boyfriend and has been having an affair with you behind his back for 6 months. You say you should stop a week ago and call it off back to being just friends. At this point she still says she can't imagine life without you, and that you've changed her and helped her with various issues she's had to deal with more than anyone else. And that she loves you so much that she isn't happy that you and her are going back to being just friends, despite the fact she also loves him just as much. Apparently. She also claims it takes her ages to get over people and she's worried by the fact you'll get over her more quickly than she will you.

So you get in an argument today about who was rude to whom the day before, and it's petty and neither of you will back down and then she comes out with the "I never want to speak to you again" thing and even says, when asked, that she doesn't love you anymore. So you ask her if this is just a power and control thing to take the power back from you calling things off a week before, and she strenuously denies it. She says "do you hate me?" and you say

"no, I love you".

You put the phone down on her pretty soon after this.

Well? I hope you were paying attention! Answer the question. :o/

Have not done a day log in a couple days, or noded much at all. This is due partially to the lag (which, I discovered, is not nearly so bad when using icab), but also due to the test I got back in C++ on Friday, which I bombed. I need to spend more time on C++ and less time on everything. Figuring out how to do this is difficult.

I have gotten into the bad habit of sleeping half the day away on weekends. It feels great, but makes it hard to get back into a normal schedule during the week. This is going to be a busy week. I need to actually start working on finding an internship for this summer, somehow related to computer graphics, web design, other computer design, or art. The internship needs to either be extremely intersting and useful or in the Cleveland area. Also, this week, I need to figure out what I am going to take next semester. Next semester is going to be really busy. In order to graduate in December of 2002, I am going to have to take something like 19 or 20 hours of classes. Yipee!

Gessoed a few canvases today. Hopefully will start painting on one of them tomorrow. Need to spend more time painting.

Still trying to figure out A. I can't figure out what she wants or does not want from me. I know she wants and needs affection, but I cannot tell if there is anything more than that. Granted, she is under considerable stress right now and a relationship may not be the first thing on her mind. (She has been having considerable troulble getting her parents to pay the remainder of her tuition bill for this semester.) I just don't know what she wants.

I walk into her room, if she is there, and she is sitting at the computer, madly typing, mainly with random flirts on AIM or ICQ. She is glad to see me, but doesn't seem to really want to talk. She wants my affection, although she does not say as much. She does not want me to leave.

Recently, when she has been talking, it is has been about all the crappy stuff that has been happening. (And a lot of generally bad stuff has been happening.) I just don't know what to do. I like her, but I would like to be able to actually talk with her.

I don't know how much I can deal with her. As a friend, I care quite a bit. I want to be nice, be the sweet boyfriend, but I just don't know if I have the energy to do that, or if that is what she even wants.

I really need to just sit down and talk with her.

Well this weekend was okay I guess.... Nothing specail except I went home with my girlfriend to her parents house. Brought her home from college for the weekends. The good part is that we didn't have to go to a wedding. Just a waste of a Saturday.

But on Sunday, we had to go to a family gathering. It was okay, though nothing like hanging out with the extended family of someone you are dating. Just one introduction after another, people you don't remember from last time, so why remember now?

The cool thing about the whole time was on of the cousins went to NYC and spent three weeks seeing what has changed. He was there for the memorial service at Yankee Statdium and saw everything that happened. He had some good photographs as he took well over 200 pictures. My how New York has changed since September 11, 2001.
On another note, I'm subbing again today... Watching Hamlet with Mel Gibson in it. I don't think it is as good as the one that Kenneth Branaugh does, but I guess that is personal choice. I don't understand why these students do not understand what the play is all about, did their teacher no explain it?
There's nothing as boring as watching the same movie over and over again all day long.

My girlfriend left me


Woohoo! I'm single again!

Getting up in the mornings have been proven to be really, really difficult. Whenever I awake from my solemn slumber, the events of the past week hit me like a sledgehammer. And then my inadequacies make me want to cry. Eventually though, with every step around the apartment we had previously chosen to live in, the ghosts seem to disappear as quickly as it came. My brain reactivates into a more logical state where it can control my emotions and keep my coping skills in check. And after my showers, I feel fresh again, after another day without her.

She had left me on Thursday, October 18, 2001. I came home from work to find one of her hair elastics outside our back entrance to the building. It was white. As I looked upon it, my subconscious was telling me something I wasn't listening to, until I opened my unit door. Her stuff was gone. Her shoes were gone. Her clothes were gone. She left a short note on my Playstation 2 and it read:


It's over.

She was gone. There was no explanation. She left me with the $900 monthly rent. She left me with the responsibilty of packing what little she left in the apartment - things she might come back for. She left me all the bills to pay. Something so neat and proper a few days before is now a domestic mess.

I was appalled at the amount of paranoia involved in that selfish, irresponsible and most cowardly note as much as the shocking news. I drastically tried to reach her several times afterwards, leaving message after message, scrambling to mend our relationship. She simply did not want to talk. I was at a loss.

For a few days now, I've been trying to figure out the reasons she left. I've come up with a few that might interest some of you that may lead you to protect yourselves.

1. She's cheated on me and kept it a secret. She's been lying to me and her trips to London is part of a cover to see her other guyfriend. (Not sure, but it is possible.)

2. After almost six years of taking advantage of me financially, she's realized that she could not do it anymore, merely because I've finally smartened-up and held her accountable for what moneys she owed me. (This reason seems to be the most realistic.)

3. After finally being able to afford an automobile, a Volkwagen Golf GL, as well as a cellular phone, she realizes that she doesn't have to rely on me (just as I told her) all the time, then rationalizes it as a reason to break-up with me. (Also, highly likely.)

The past weekend, I spent most of my time talking to my dear friends about this situation. Some of them didn't like her before the break-up, others were somewhat impartial to her character, and still others only accepted her because she was my girlfriend. But after I told each and every one of them the news and what had happened, all of them were shocked. Most of them answered:


...after I told them:

"She left me."

"I am single again."

And yes, most of them deemed this behaviour as "cowardly", even "faceless" and "heartless". The worst part of it is, although I felt a tinge of love for her, I concurred with these judgements. Some even said to me, "GOOD RIDDANCE!" Anyone who left like that deserves such a harsh comment.

Six years of being together. 2 months of looking for a place together, 1 month of setting it up and painting the place (she painted it in a week), 2 months of helping to look for a job for her - all of this within the past three months (as things happened concurrently). But even before that:

$2500.00 of helping her out while she was still in university;
My taking a day off from work and driving up to her graduation (when she didn't even attend mine the year before) from Toronto to Ottawa;
Helping her move from Ottawa to Toronto using my own resources - my father's van and my blood and sweat;
Driving her to many job interviews within Toronto...

Well, it's an endless list of things and emotional stages that requires a book to be written. Six years cannot be summarized in only one write-up.

All I know, is that everything we did together is now a waste. A waste of time and energy on the practical things, and a waste of the years of emotional and relational development.

With all the loving and relationship problems and the efforts to correct and resolve them all, it is now over. All this was for nothing - because she said so, not because we said so.

I still cannot fathom the amount of selfishness displayed by her irreverent behaviour. I don't even believe the worst of humankind could ever do something like this.

It took all my strength and effort to make this relationship work. She's not done one single thing to change or even evolve herself. I was suckered. She had manipulated my feelings and my generosity, and now, karma will get her.

..and yes, I sort of feel a little better now that I've vented my frustrations on this log. Thanks, Everything 2.

I know there are some things I have barely touched upon in regards to my relationship with the person. I also know that her side of things may seem very much different to mine. In that case, I can only guess, but with a wealth of knowledge, what she could be thinking now:

I wasn't taking advantage of your kindness and generosity. Though I knew I could not sum up to what you have done for me in practical terms, I have indeed helped you in terms of emotional development. And that's what troubled me the most. It was our constant fighting for the past three months we were living together. What I thought to be insignificant was apparently significant to you. I am as stubborn as you when it comes to these things, but I know that you made an effort to rectify them. I simply did not have enough influence from my parents in the past. The mother didn't aid me when I needed it and my father passed away when I was too young. Perhaps it would be different if I had caring parents like yours. Perhaps I would have had the common sense you so glamourously talked about.

It was just too much. I am a "free" being. Although I know you think of it as being "careless" and irresponsible, but I see it as being a person without attaching strings. When we moved in together, I did not know about certain practicalities that holds a couple together. I felt completely overwhelmed by the responsibilities that were tacked onto me. I could not bare them. And you know, I still have those panic attacks. Driving to your work place and getting lost in the process was a good indication of that.

I know that you cannot accept that I could not change as much as you have. That is why I left you. Not about these practical things you speak of. I know you enough to know that those were just your fighting words, and that you don't really believe in those words. I also know that that was what appeared to have happened. In that case, I am not good enough to show what you needed to see. Perhaps I actually didn't appreciate you enough in ways you wanted.

Nonetheless, I have left, and I feel better for it even though it means losing the one I most dearly love, treasure and cherish. You still remain "the guy who saved me". but now, I need to be a person on my own.

I'm sorry for having to leave this way. I'll return your things when I feel I have enough strength to resist kissing you. I know it appears that my accountability is lacking. But I will prove it by paying you back when I have it.

As for the love, I just hope it can remain in our memories so that we can remember the good things and learn from the bad...

If only she could be so eloquent.

Quote of the Day:

It is not wealth one asks for, but just enough to preserve one's dignity, to work unhampered, to be generous, frank and independent.
- W. Somerset Maugham

News and Views:

  • School book publishers are rushing to revise their textbooks after the events of the last few weeks, despite the approach of already announced publishing dates.

    I'm not entirely certain how sound an idea this is, the reports seem to indicate that they are more jumping on the bandwagon than actually adding useful material to the books. What are they slashing to make room? Do they have time to do a proper job?

  • Booksellers across the country are reporting some interesting side effects of the terrorist attacks. Book sales overall are down, but sales of the Bible and topics related to Islam, terrorism, and warfare are up.

  • 'Give Peace A Website'

    Wired News is carrying an article on an organization called 'Muslims against Terrorism', and the website they have created. (muslimsagainstterrorism.com) The most interesting part of the story is the speed with which the movement came together, less than three weeks, fueled mainly by the speed with which widely seperated individuals could communicate through the Internet.

    The power and potential of the web continue to amaze me. In the hours after the attack, the web provided a source of news and information to many. It continues to change the face of reporting. It's interesting to contrast this with the general failure of online retailing, contrary to popular belief, many dot bombs failed not just because of poor business plans, but because it's turned out to be harder than believed to get people to buy online.
Alright, I really should not be doing this; but I am writing this at work. Mainly because I got the urge to write about this right now! and if I don't, I know I will forget about it, and have nothing to node later. (well, that's a lie, I have something in mind for when I get home....but....)

This weekend, I took my boyfriend to a gig. (The Smalls to any of you who are versed with small town bands, 'The Smalls' being one from Edmonton, Alberta Canada). The show was great, the people were great, and it was all in all a very good evening. Up untill the end.

I am beginning to wonder about the Taxi services as a whole after Saturday night. (October 20, 2001) At about 2:45am we had called a taxi, as we were tired and wanted to go home. Now I will give leeway for the fact that it was bar rush.

Now, bar rush usually makes the wait about 30 mins. This is alright in the long run, unless you hit brick walls at every turn. The dispatch center asks for your name upon calling, so they know who they are sending the taxi for. Well, scratch that name thing off of the list, because it is useless. We were waiting outside, in the cold for over an hour, because it was a stampeed for these things as they pulled into the parking lot. Hell people were even running into the streets to catch one of those taxi's! (Which I admit, we ended up doing in the end out of frustration)

Now, if things were not bad enough, after we had actually hopped into a taxi in the second lane of a 4 lane street and started on our way home, the cab driver got a phone call from another taxi. This is all fine and dandy, untill he asks my boyfriend if he's any good at fighting. What the hell kind of question is that?! Well it turns out, there was this kid (going home from the same show as us, ironically enough) who couldent have been more than 20 years old tops trying to jip the driver out of his fare, and the driver was affraid this kid was going to beat him up!! Well low and behold the driver calls all the taxi's, and within a matter of 5 mins (and the taxi's did not care if they had passengers or not, because we ended up going on this little 'trip') there is 12 of them, all on the corner of this street, surrounding this kid like a police shoot out. I mean common, I did not order a drive home and a show, I just wanted to go home damnit. I wanted to sleep. Was that too much to ask for? Aparentlty so.

Well, in the end, the kid payed the fair, though he was unhappy (because he was in the taxi with his friends, and they ditched him, leaving him with the tab....nice friends huh?) and we finally got to go home, and to sleep.

The moral of this story? I am not sure if there is one. My point? Well that one is simple. If these taxi drivers are suppost to be working for us, providing us with a service, I expect it to be prompt, friendly and effective. Not slow, rude and annoying.

I am getting my licence and buying a car. I guess the saying is true, 'If you want something done right, you gotta do it yourself.'
I was waiting for Lisa today. She's one of the girls who drop by the The Library Cafe in Brooklyn College. I met her last week, and I thought to myself the idea of asking her out to the 12th Annual Maber Mercer Cabaret Convention this week. I picked up two free tickets for the Thursday night show from the editor-in-chief of the Cabaret Hotline Online web site, and I am ready for everything.

This morning, I was waiting at work for her. It's very depressing thinking of the possibilities that she might say no. She could be busy, she could be taken, whatever. Still, I was afraid.

I was done with work at 1:00 PM - the student union building was opened by then after a damn practical joke involving powder that was mistaken for Anthrax. I mean, it's Brooklyn College - the educational equivalent of Siberia! I went in and met up with the Anime goons in campus watching Trigun.

The episodes of the day was something to the effect of a review of Vash the Stampede's antics... and one more episode about those insurance company girls watching over some land and claimjumpers and whatnot. Eh, nothing special. We walked off to the courtyard after the viewing, and I noticed someone...

It's Lisa! I can spot her from the brunette and red streaks of her hair, and the fishnet stockings. I was lucky she wasn't one of those conservative girls with that kind of dress. She was walking with one of the professors from the TV & Radio department. I walked up to Lisa backwards to say hello to her...

She asked me why was I walking backwards, and I told her I like it.

Remember last week, when I mentioned the Cabaret Convention?
I took out my wallet and showed off the tickets in my wallet.
"And I guess you're inviting me?"

She gave me her phone number, and I was happy. All I have to do is call her Wednesday to check when can I pick her up. She's busy during the day, so I have to plan accordingly.

I spent the first few nights in my new apartment this weekend. It's funny. I've been living alone for the past 2 years, but it always takes me a while to convince myself that every new home is, in fact, home. This apartment is special, though. It is the nicest place I have ever lived in. The neighborhood is on the fringes or just beginning to improve. All around my building (a 2 unit dwelling dressed to look like a house) and the one next to mine (built by the same contractor at the same time) lurk vacant lots of scraggy grass and buildings that are due to collapse or be torn down any day now (including the one on the other side of mine). I mean, I didn't live in a much better neighborhood before I moved here, but at least people lived there. I move 4 blocks away and I'm in a desert. Our two little houses stick out like the two only good teeth in the mouth of what was once a very pretty lady; the two remaining teeth are not accounted to her as "good" and you are more likely wanting to knock them out just to make everything even. This is how I feel about my new place, or, rather, how other people feel about my new place.

It is beautiful on the inside. Freshly painted, all new appliances, central air/heat, lots of windows and flow through, washer dryer hookups. It's on the second floor, a prerequisite in any neihgborhood that borders the Quarter, since people are prone to using stoops as seating. What happened a week ago also proves why I require this. The neighbor right next door to me lives on the ground floor (it's only got one floor). She moved in shortly before I did and my building was empty at the time. She also has an alarm system. My apartment is wired for an alarm system but I cannot afford it. Well, someone cut off her electricty, broke a window in the rear of the building, grabbed her TV and left. Millie, our mutual landlord, told me this just after I had moved all my things in there before I was technically allowed to move in. She called them "petty theives" and not to worry because they'll only take what requires the least effort and that thieves seldom ever bother with a second floor dwelling. Well, what about the elderly lady who lives below me? The elderly lady is really cool, though, and she informed me she has a gun. Ironically, she lived on the same exact block I lived on before I moved, yet we never met. My old neighborhood was that kind of neighborhood. The old lady and I are white; our old neighborhood was primarily not white; our new neighborhood is empty for now.

Less than a week later, the TV was recovered. A man who introduced himself to me when I was moving things in and lives a block away saw the thieves running from the scene and her things were returned to her. She is still scared and wants to go back to her old apartment.

For obvious reasons, my first night sleeping in the apartment was edgy. I couldn't sleep well at all. It's so much quieter there than in my old neighborhood. Dead quiet. Since I didn't yet have my phone hooked up, I asked Carson to sleep over. The following morning, a man knocks on my door downstairs and hands me my own wallet, saying he'd found it in a garbage bag 10 blocks from here. Right. I had just used my wallet the night before, but I had charged my purchases because I had no cash. I felt bad that I couldn't give him something as a reward, but I also didn't think he was giving it back as a good Samaritan. In either case, I wouldn't give him any money. I rushed to Carson's to use his phone and check the balances of my ATM and credit cards, which ended up being untouched. I ran through in my mind all the scenarios that would have put my wallet in a vulernable place and decided that it must have either fallen out in the parking lot at Walgreen's or out of my car when I drove home.

The thing is, I am not leaving. I am not going to be scared away. I waited over a month for this place and intend to enjoy it. The rent is dirt cheap and I can afford it. I thought about getting renter's insurance, but I don't own anything of tangible value; besides, if someone did break into my home, insurance wouldn't buy back peace of mind. Same deal with the alarm system; they cut my neighbor's power, so why wouldn't they just cut mine? The whole reason I live where I live is because I am a poverty-level opportunist who likes to live alone. These are the risks I take. I simply refuse to live in fear.

Note to noders who read this and are staying with me for next weekend's gathering: I didn't intend this to scare anyone or make them feel like they were sleeping in a ghetto. But I'm not going to lie either and say that I live in a really secure neighborhood. This is a city just like any other city.

Tonight, in Brussels, Belgium,the great physicist Stephen Hawking was invited for a lecture titled "Brane new world". I went to see him with my dear Vanessa. The lecture was at 8 pm, but I went at 7 pm to get a place. When I entered the room, the 1,000+ seats auditorium was already almost full. But by the time Vanessa and her nerdy brother-in-law , who had come especially for the purpose, had come in, 7.30 pm, the room was full. We had to sit on the floor.

After the traditional speech by the people who had organized the happening, professor Hawking started the lecture. The lecture was in the Hawking's speech computer's mothertongue, being English. But the exact text was also shown simultaneously in French and in Dutch, which was very interesting, as as Hawking's interaction with the speech computer appeared to be very slow. The waiting time between two sentences Hawking "spoke" appeared to be useful to think about the things he just said.

The Hawkman managed to make the subject (string and brane theory) pretty understandable. He spoke about M-theory, branes, string theory, ekpyrotic universe and more.But what marked me most was how funny the guy actually is. He was continuously referring to his hypotheses with : "which would be great as I would get the Nobel prize". He made suppositions about us being only a simulation in an alien videogame (pictures projected on the screen of one-eyed green creatures with Game Boys). He also showed us a funny Monty Python-esque animation with god blowing in a balloon with the universe and the devil picking in it to make it explode ("pop !"). And in the end, we were shown his appearance, alongside Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein, in an episode of Star Trek: The Next Generation. All in all a very interesting lecture.

Nothing happened with Vanessa, as usual. Spacetime will tell.
This was the most boring day of my life.

Yes, it's true. I am not normally bored; I thought it had become physically impossible for me to be bored. Since I hadn't been bored in so long, I'd even forgotten what it was like. I could always find something to do, or failing that, something to think about; after all, I'm a writer, and my brain is always spinning with wacky zany nutty fun, right? RIGHT??

Today, the answer is no.

I arrive at work. Find my shift is nine to five (an hour longer than usual, but not highly unusual). Find I must work the register (also not highly unusual, since it's the register chicky's day off, but not my normal or preferred position). Prepare to spend most of the slow Monday morning reading secretly, the other half of the day slightly busy with customers.

Not so.


Complain to managers about disinterest in working register. Pace. Sulk. Acquire book to read on the sly. Read it a bit.

HOUR TWO: 10-11 AM

Friend Mike comes to visit. Friend Mike chats gaily with me for a while, and then makes me ring up a book for him. Which he then gives to me as a gift. Excitement ensues, for it is a book I've been bitching about not being able to afford, and I was secretly annoyed that HE was going to get it and I couldn't afford it. Am reprimanded by two managers to do work and not be paid to stand around talking, at which point I needle them for some direction. Am then laden with many stupid chores, none of which really need doing but are mostly to keep me busy. Fair amount of sulking.

HOUR THREE: 11 AM to 12 noon

Constant clock-watching, expecting it to be later than it is. Ponder break. Do some menial chores, feeling annoyed. Ponder break. Check clock. Clean window of fingerprints. Watch annoying kid put them back on.

HOUR FOUR: 12 noon to 1 PM

Bored. BORED!!! Doodle on discarded receipt. Rearrange pens while reading on the sly. Wait on customers. Complain of cold. Clean up the gardening section anemically. Annoyance building.


At 1 my break arrives. Eat food and read without worrying about being caught. Get annoyed about having to go back at 1:30. Complain loudly of cold. Take store poll of who is cold. Find that they are all hot. Complain more. Steal samples from the café.


Begin to wait on customers in a funny accent to see what will happen. Mutter to self in funny accent. Straighten CDs, ponder people's stupid band names. Ponder riding the broom in the corner. Complain about the cold. Clean window again. Acquire sweater. Consider asking for a line out so I can call another bookstore and bitch to a friend. Continue to wait on customers.


Boredom Headache arrives. Annoyance builds further. Fantasize about my novels. Scrawl down an idea for something in my next book, writing in a made-up language. Explain discount card policy to a woman who thinks I have cheated her. Call the customer service girl and bitch. Complain more about headache, annoyance, boredom. Attempt to look like I am doing something by arranging pens while reading more on the sly.


Boredom pounds through skull. Call the manager and ask who is coming up to take my place so I can count my drawer and leave on time. Bored. BORED! NEVER BEEN THIS BORED! Look at feet. Ponder the fact that sock is sliding down again. Arrange magazines. Think about how dumb Cosmopolitan is. Bitch to self. Get relieved of duty. Count down drawer and bitch loudly about day's boredom to anyone who will listen. Clean up assigned displays and receive star stickers. Bitch more, on my way out, about how horrid the day has been. Skip out the door laughing.

"So how was your day hon?"

"Oh, it was fine."

We're having the food discussion today, for the umpteenth time it seems.

I freely admit that I am a picky eater. I also freely admit that this can make it hard to plan dinners with me. I can't help the fact that I don't like certain foods, and I'm allergic to others. I try new things and force myself to attempt to like stuff, but sometimes I just can't. Sometimes I just don't like the food he makes. Sometimes it tastes too strongly of rosemary and the smell of too-hot olive oil seems to make its way all over the house. I force myself to eat it most of the time even if I don't like it that much. I didn't like the soup on Friday though, and refused to eat it. Now he thinks this means I hate everything he makes and he can't do anything right. This, of course, is untrue, and I have to cite examples to prove it. Yummy chili. Good cornbread. Love that chicken 'n cheese dish. Will you make the bean with bacon soup again soon?

Welcome to marriage. I love him and don't regret marrying him. I guess I just didn't realize that it would be so much work. I knew it wouldn't be easy. I just wish we could get past the food discussions.

We are going out for Thai food on Wednesday with his mom and sis. Hope that goes OK and there is something on the menu that I will enjoy and won't make me sick to my stomach. I can't eat tofu or anything fishy, including shrimp, because I end up with horrible stomach pains. I hate the taste of tofu and fish anyway, so I am not missing anything. Its just one more quirky thing about me that makes dinners with me difficult.

Alex is very adventurous when it comes to food. When we were in Australia on our honeymoon, he was trying all kinds of strange fish, and he had kangaroo for dinner one night. I stuck to steak, pork chops, and chicken. I worry sometimes that he'll get sick of my picky eating and leave me for a fusion chef or something.

In non-food news, I got the new New Order CD today. I like it. Some of the curtains I ordered came in the mail today, so now I need to find curtain rods that Alex and I will both like. I attempted to go to my class this morning, but it was canceled. My instructor was sick. I guess that was good since I forgot to bring my caffeine source with me to class and I would have had a hard time paying attention. I have a midterm on Friday I have to study for. I went grocery shopping. The Nature's employees were surly as usual.

I think life was more exciting when I was an angsty singleton, but that's OK. I'll take some boredom in exchange for stability.

Harsh weekend for me. Friday night and the part of Saterday when I was asleep was the only good that came out of it.

Cable connection again! I now realize how E2 is for all you 56kers. Much better now though.
I feel a bit deflated. My camera is busted. I'm not sure what the problem is, but most of my pictures do not come out. Half of the photo is blacked out, as if the shutter only opens at the top. Very disappointing. So many good shots ruined. So many opportunities wasted. Out of the last two rolls only three pictures were salvagable. Not even the magic of my photo editor program is going to help with these puppies.

How can one have a good shot with only half the picture?
How can one see the whole picture with only half the shot?

This bothers me because this is something that I love to do. It's a necessary thing for me, I feel a little like a piece of me is absent. I can't pull over somewhere when I see something that catches my fancy, reach back and grab my camera to shoot it. I'm missing something.

The camera thing actually bothers me more than the check card fiasco I've been dealing with the last two days. It doesn't work. My wonderful state of the art, let's make life simpler, gotta have one ATM/VISA is as useful as a fork is to a horse. Gotta love technology. Upon calling the bank......."We're sorry but you may have trouble accessing your account through ATM's and electronic purchases. We apologize for any inconvenience."

This would not matter except we have no other cards. Zip. Nada. Took the scissors to them one after the other in a lovely display of "screw your interest rates and hidden fees".

Paychecks, direct deposited. This, this I can deal with for a while. So I have to WALK to the bank a mile and a half away to get cash. GOOD EXERCISE! So I have to write checks for a little bit. A nuisance yes, but nothing insurmountable. Doesn't give me too much faith in the banking system.

But the camera.....that is something that needs to be addressed soon.

This morning I sort of woke up around 8 when my alarm went off, but I just lay in bed and drifted in and out of sleep. My girlfriend left for class around eight thirty, and about nine o'clock I though I heard her call my name, in a voice that suggested she was in pain. I got up out of bed, suddenly awake (but not overly lucid) and called "what?", not thinking to look at the clock. I checked in the bathroom and down the hall, in the living room, and in the kitchen. Of course there was no one there. It was sort of creepy; I briefly thought she had gotten hit by a car or something and had called out from beyond the grave!

Since I'm not really a superstitious person, I figured I'd just email her and have her call after she got out of her first class (she's a compulsive email checker, so I knew she'd get it), and not worry until then. Fortunately she called.

To extend the heppie-jeepies this morning, a book that I thought I had securely set on a table fell off and bent some of the pages. Then I had a shower and got thinking about that Harrison Ford / Michelle Pfeiffer movie, What lies beneath. Visions of ghosts drawing on the foggy mirror while I was in the shower. *shudder*

But no, no ghostly writings.

I've nearly finished a set of microwave related nodes that deal with transmission lines and impedance matching. If anyone is curious as to why I'm writing this stuff up, it's because I had to spend a lot of time thinking about how to do it because I found the class notes and the text books I had sort of inadequate, and I'm hoping I can save any other EE students some time. Also, I have a midterm tomorrow and I really need to know it all, and writing it out helps me remember the techniques. I only hope my explanation is clear enough without diagrams...

Some days it feels as though there is something in the air, something extra. The world becomes ever so slightly crisper around the edges and the colours a bit brighter. Sometimes all it takes is a different route home.

I decided to bicycle along the water home rather than climb the steep hill to my apartment. The air was cold but I had the unusual foresight to bring gloves, so the air was refreshing rather than violating. And for once the sun was shining, and the sky was blue, and everything appeared to be pleasant and idyllic and autumn-like. Leaves swept into tan piles but the grass was still green. I rode along and saw three beautiful things.

  1. Lying on the rocks of the seawall was the carcass of a fish. This didn’t look like it could have possibly washed up from the sea, because of its absolutely enormous size. Fish like those belong at the bottom of the ocean, or on ice in the market. Or on somebody’s wall. It was about a foot and a half long, and hollow – the skin had slightly sunken in some areas, making it slightly unrecognizable from the path. A few condoms and other urban debris surrounded it. It had a clean, silver sheen.
  2. I passed a small boy whirling something around in the air. Seagulls were squawking. As I got closer I slowed to see the noisemaker he was swinging in circles – it sounded just like a seagull. Then I realized it was actually the boy making the noises. He sounded perfectly, exactly, undeniably like a seagull. He couldn’t have been more than five, and I wasn’t sure if he was attempting this impersonation or whether it was coincidental.
  3. I discovered that the seawall goes through an industrial area past the Cambie Bridge. I passed a thousand stacked wooden planks, some planks wrapped in plastic. All these beautiful patterns. I saw a ten-foot metal pole, curved down to the ground as though it had a broken back. I rode towards the street, in a visual daze, watching hundreds of black crows pick at the ground in a field of mud. I turned around just to see them all take to the air, an initial swarm of ink that separated and spread into a thousand flapping wings in all directions, taking off into the world and covering the sky. And a second later, it was over.

I went home humbled.

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