the bastion of adolescent cool

I've been so ahead of style, that I've managed to stay out of style my whole life. It's not always easy to be at the forefront of un-pop culture, to be one of those who meander into un-tread territory and locate things that I like without a television or a radio saying "YOU WILL LIKE THIS. YOU WILL BUY THIS." Sometimes I pick winners, sometimes losers. Sometimes I dismiss things that go on to become iconic. But, I do cultivate my own taste and love when six months later, a year later, ten years later, the rest of the world gets it too. I admit, I enjoy poking around in the fetal stages of music and cultural offerings. I not only like feeling like I can ferret out culture's truffles, but I like being a bit of a freak, an odd duck, a hippie, a rebel, a shit disturber... well... just different.

Anyway, I just got a facebook message from someone who went to camp with me. He knew me in the year 1987... that's like 20 years ago, people.

This is what he remembers of me...

"Oh, and I remember you had a Public Image Ltd t-shirt. I had no idea what PiL meant til later and it retroactively made you even cooler in my mind."

(sorry to sound like such an arrogant bitch today, but I loved this message and simply had to share it)

3:35 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

the tudors

I saw the ads in a magazine and thought it would be lame. Rhys Myers has some girl draped over him. Now that I saw the first episode... history is so cool when you see it in action, as opposed to just reading about it. The phrase "diplomacy" immediately makes me tune out, but seeing the backdoor finagling of the archbishop and the cardinals and Henry's enemies... that's awesome. How come the dryness of a description of diplomacy doesn't match the excitement of the events in action? I have no idea. Henry is a great character anyway, and its so much fun to see him brought to life.

At any rate, I'm a huge fan of these historical television shows. And though I prefer historical accuracy, I don't need it to enjoy what they do. I thought Rome was great, though tweedle dee and tweedle dum detracted from the better aspects of the show -- the events surrounding Caesar and Augustus. If that show had allowed tweedle dee and tweedle dum to fade out and perhaps introduced subsidiary characters as necessary, that show would not have disappeared. And, of course, it was wonderfully exotic in the way that Rome is exotic to us.

I hope that one day they put together a show about Athens in the age of Pericles. Or even one about Alexander the Great. It doesn't really matter to me, but I'd love to see a show focused on the ancient Greek world. Even if it just runs for 10 shows or so.

8:13 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

I’d rather not be playing scrabulous

Alright, how wanton can I get here, and write pretty openly about a relationship that never flew?

I have a relationship that has been reduced to a game of scrabulous on facebook. I just won the game. Does this mean the relationship is over?

I use the word "relationship" very freely here. Two dates does not define a relationship. I don't even think I can say we "dated." However, I think that any time the absence of a person in your life provokes an emotional response, you have a relationship. The connection or interaction is watermarked on your psyche. That is enough for me. Some relationships can last an hour, and they can be the most meaningful ones of a lifetime (let us hope, for all our sakes, that the most meaningful ones also last a lot longer than an hour in most cases).

So, returning to my story... I went out twice with someone and thought that we had a good rapport and that our conversation would continue for awhile. At least a few weeks or months. I was deluded into believing that he liked me based on what seemed to me an aggressive interest and "seduction." Flattery works, but so do the little things. And I saw the little things and was pleased with what I saw. Aha! I thought, You can drop your guard. This one likes you. And in that short period of time, he made me a facebook friend and started a scrabulous game with me.

After the second date, our daily contact disappeared entirely. I found myself writing to him and initiating all the contact. A sure sign that it was over. A man with a plan will pursue his prey. And instead of thanking the gods for escaping the hunter, I was pissed off that he had given up his quarry and came strutting my stuff, trying to get his attention. He was hunting some other game at this point. Worse, in real life, I ran into him, and it was so uncomfortable, that I questioned if we had even had a rapport in the first place. Was it imagined? He insisted that he had not intended to end contact with me at all. (Oh really, I thought.)

And still, the scrabulous game continued daily. One word at a time. It was the only contact I had with him. And he played a good game of scrabble, mostly. Defensive. Building words next to words, instead of branches. He took advantage of the point squares. The board was tight. It was hard to play.

But then my scrabulous tile holder didn't fill to 7 letters. I knew the game was winding down. Within a few turns, my contact with him would reach its end. I debated day after day if I should just stop playing and quit. But, like an obsessed woman, I played down to the final tile and won the game. I won the game, but have lost my one point of contact with him. A pyrrhic victory.

The victory, though, might be mine in other ways. My friends have often told me I was fortunate to feel love, to feel passion, to feel desire. My ability to open and give up my heart easily and freely is to be celebrated, not a subject of shame and derision. If I suffer, it is only because my capacity to experience joy is equally great. The victory is mine for not ending up with a person of such capricious feelings. How sincere can a person be when he doesn't even distinguish when an apology is necessary, an explanation? But, ultimately, I am victorious for not becoming the significant other of a person who doesn't possess enough good taste and discernment to know when to hitch himself to my wagon train?

3:23 PM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

I Am So Getting Over You, Dude

This was a pretty interesting year for me in terms of my love life. Well, maybe just around 9 months or so. Or maybe just 6. I'm not going to really count the months and that isn't the point. The point is that this year has been the year in which I felt nothing at all. I didn't love anyone, didn't develop huge itchy, rashy crushes on men and stay up late trying to check the synchronicity of things, as if I could divine what would come to pass. I didn't spend hours fantasizing about all the cool things we could do together, which is what I'm more apt to think about than sex anyway... But, I suppose, even on that count, apart from the occasional desire to scratch the itch, I felt nothing.

In fact, it had seemed like such a long time that I feared that part of me had died... the part that liked men and fell in love and made me act like an irrational and demented person. I was kind of worried. I was even more worried when some very attractive men asked me out, and after said dates, despite a really good connection, I didn't care to get involved in anything.

So, on one hand, it made my life as flat as a lake on a windless day -- no adventure, no excitement, also no suffering and no agonizing highs and lows. This has its positives, obviously. After all, who wants to suffer? But it also kind of made me feel very, very, very dead. If I completely let go of relationships, this was the termination of my life... I am it. There will be no massive changes or shifts, since the only person I would ever have to account for is me.

Well, so I thought. Until, I hung out with someone and was zapped so hard, my stomach knotted. The feelings flooded back into me from head to toe and toe to head. I couldn't believe it. I thought I had lost this ability and here it was, effortlessly returned to me. And even better, it seemed like he liked me. At least, for a few days I thought he liked me. Which is really the ideal, since if I can get crazy about someone and he can get crazy about me, I mean, that can only be a good thing.

But then, as quickly as he liked me, I think he lost interest. So now, its worse. I am shoveling the stables here, trying to clean up the sadness, frustration, and just all around disappointment that accompanies feeling rejected. And I would like to say, well, that year of lovelessness made me strong and tough and I am so getting over you, dude. But, the truth is, getting over someone is just as hard as I remembered it. In fact, I think about him more now than I ever did when I thought he liked me.

So, I suppose this presents a dilemma, an irresolvable one. Do I aim for peace/low risk/low results, or do I am for emotional drive/high risk/potentially highest results? It's tough. Very tough. I wish it were easy and if someone has it figured it out, please pass on the recipe.

11:14 PM - 6 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

Glenn Gould & I

I really love Glenn Gould. I put on my cd of him playing Bach's preludes and fugues and I hum along to it. Then I realize he is humming on the CD and we are humming together, the long dead Glenn Gould and me in the present day.

So, Glenn, I thought you should know.

1) I think the Idea of North is one of the coolest ideas ever. I am so glad you were able to transform voice into a symphony.

2) I like hearing you hum along with the music.

3) Some of the songs of this particular Glenn Gould CD ring in the ears of my mind no matter where I go, no matter what I do. In fact, that is what inspired today's little tribute.

4) You make me want to play the piano again. Right now. I might buy myself a keyboard in the next few weeks because I'm itching to play.

8:43 AM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Let Go. Say AAAAHHHHHH

I have a guided meditation on my ipod about trust. Not trusting in someone or something, but rather, trusting in yourself and your experiences, trusting in the universe. I listen to it every day, or every other day, lately. It got me thinking about all the things I hold on to. I started to make a list.

1) The expectations that I think others have of me

2) That I need to live a certain kind of life or live life in a certain time frame

3) That all my thoughts should be kept to myself unless fully formulated

4) That I need to look a certain way to be liked

5) That I need to be liked

6) That I am less than perfect exactly how I am

There are many others. But as I walk around and reflect upon the meditiation, I really start to see all the things I cling to and that have no place in a trusted universe. It's a good feeling to identify these places and even better to think that I am practicing the art of letting go and trusting.  

12:43 PM - 3 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Pepe le Peu

Yup, yup, yup, you get up early, you see skunks. Walking back from the canal with my dog, pre 7 a.m., I thought it was a black cat and was simply going to hiss to make it scat... Then it turned and revealed its fine white stripe. Skunk. Oh, man. A skunk ready to spray, no less, with its ass gland pointing straight in our direction. what's a skunk doing in a middle of the city? Where does it hang out all day? Why is it next to a busy road? Do Quebecois skunks have different scents than their French kin? or any other skunk, for that matter? Would a Quebecois skunk want to be called Pepe le Peu? This is not the time to ask these all important questions. The important thing here is to get me plus me dog to the other side of the street before the dog sees the skunk and we get hit with a stink bomb. Forutunately, my dog was focused on a chomping down some grass when I made my move to get us out of target range. We made it safe to the far side and that skunk was still tail-high, waiting for some poor bastard to do a little target practice on.  

10:29 AM - 2 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Poem

Upon hearing a CBC Tapestry special in which two men were reading the poems of Rumi, I had to write a poem myself. This might be unfinished.

I want a love like Rumi's,

A love that must grow, as these yellow flowers bloom in the train tracks,

that withstands the trains and the footsteps,

that keeps growing so that no wanting hand goes without a prettier bloom

that thrives on what sustenance is provided,

rainfall, sun.

5:32 PM - 2 Comments - 4 Kudos - Add Comment

a force in motion stays in motion

Man, today has been total and complete madness. Most days, I am a wild thing all morning, up until around 2, when I kind of crash and burn and do nothing of note until after dinner. But today, I didn't get a chance to crash or burn and I have been in perpetual motion.

But, there is a reason.

Paris.

I'm taking 8 students to Paris. At least, if all goes well and they pay their balance and nothing horrible happens between now and then. Paris. With nancy. I'm so excited. I can't believe I am going to spend a week in Paris! I love to travel so so so much.

4:27 PM - 4 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

streeeeeeeetch

Sometimes, especially when I realize that I have spent too much time alone and hermited, I have to force myself to stretch. I have to give myself new goals, new challenges, and try things that make me uncomfortable or shoot for some things on my life to-do list. I can drift day in and day out in the same holding pattern, busy and self entertaining... but then nothing has really happened except I've gotten through the routines.

As you know (or don't), I am hugely enamoured of my local YMCA. Derangedly enamoured. I'll go at 9 p.m. and stay until 10:30, just puttering around with weights and running on the track. I recently figured out that they have machines with their own televisions on them. If I want to watch something on TV... I can go to the gym. My favourite thing at the Y is the variety of classes. I regularly go to yoga, occasionally to something aerobic as it is. This week, in an effort to bust the rut, I decided to dance instead of run.

I've done some of the dance classes before. Going to dance class is nothing new. This time, I decided to try some classes I hadn't yet been to -- Latin dance and belly dancing.

I suppose I'll start with the belly dancing. Everyone in the class has a silky scarf with gold coins on their hips (yes, there are men in the class... one man, that is). Everyone has their shirt tucked into their bra or is wearing something that shows the midriff. I went in, positive that I would never be brave enough to bare my midsection, but within two songs, I was rolling up my shirt summer-camp style, in order to see what was going on with my belly. I was more than half bad, but it was really fun to do anyway. Now I just need the scarf thing.

The real shock, though, was Latin Dance. Simple enough -- steps for the rhumba and salsa and such. But then, the teacher paired us up... boys and girls... And we danced with total strangers. Then he'd yell CHANGE and we had to change partners. It was so scary for me, to stand that close to a stranger, with his hand on my shoulder and my hand, and dance. They ranged in age from younger than me to older. I wanted to flee as soon as it started, but I persisted, and in the end, I made it and I found it kind of electrifying. So, 10 men later, I can do some simple steps on the dance floor now, and I have to say that everyone has a truly different dance style.

6:10 PM - 3 Comments - 6 Kudos - Add Comment