Airport musings


I think (i do that sometimes), perhaps, my doctor may have done me a great disservice by telling me that she thinks i need a psychiatrist instead of a psychotherapist. Since then, I’ve felt very aware of my poor mood and realized how many of the symptoms of depression i have. As Eeyore says so well – bother.

I’m sitting here, watching the sun set over the gates, and i realized that i’m not the least bit excited. I’m happy to be going. I’m looking forward to seeing Ilyusha. I’m just not brim-full of bubbling energy. The only times i seem to feel like that anymore are when i am with friends to feed off their energy and put on a bit of a show. Lord, i hate the drama queen in me.

I will return to re-reading The Wind in the Willows. Last time i had the pleasure, i could not have been more than twelve, probably around nine, and it was on loan from the McCaig library. I was reading it in my Nana’s bed on Brockville Street. I remember it was winter. There used to be a TV show, yes? Or am i just remembering my own over-active imagination? I’m noticing parallels to my other favourite Watership Down and that stupid YTV show with Hammy the Hamster that i can’t remember the name of.

I did relish writing “Heather Stein – Toronto to San Francisco – Dec 2007” on the first page though. Small pleasures. Now i can’t leave it on the plane as planned though. Shucks.


Is this what being an adult means?


I finished A Wrinkle in Time on Sunday night. You wouldn’t expect from my previous post about how Children’s Literature is a secret passion that it would have inspired a brief bout of pseudo-Depression, but it did.

A Wrinkle in Time is great – please don’t get me wrong. It’s a child’s version of (i.e. deals with the same themes as) such science fiction classics as A Brave New World and 1984. It’s a celebration of the values of creativity and autonomy that Western culture, at least ostensibly, seeks to foster in its children. It’s funny. It’s sweet. It’s plot-driven (something Tunku Varadarajan argues in “Generation Hex: A first-time reader of the ‘Potter’ books searches for meaning in the final volume,” Wall Street Journal, July 28, 2007, is the key both the success and greatness of Harry Potter). However, i find myself rolling my eyes into the back of my head and giving a cold shudder whenever “the power of love” saves the day. I had this reaction to Potter too.

Is being adult being so jaded that you can’t even appreciate the warm, fuzziness of children’s narrative even when you appreciate the form and its conventions? Or has my relationship history ruined one of my favourite pastimes?

The therapist would not give me an answer on this one…

Boating, baking and being-a-bum


Our time at the National Gallery was edifying to say the least. I fell in love with one particular Renoir (Seine at Chatou) which i also bought a poster of for my new abode.

I don’t understand why boat rides are so enjoyable. Sitting around with the wind in your hair is more interesting when on a boat than in a car… why?

This evening the big plan is going to be baking strawberry-banana muffins and making a salad for lunch tomorrow. Exciting, i know – but it will be if the recipes turn out well. The muffin recipe is from the cookbook i bought in NY – i am optimistic. Eric and i tried making
oreo brownies from it two week-ends ago, but i added more marshmallows and they came out too gooey – that will teach me.

In case you were wondering, i did not pack anything last Thursday. Rather, i lay in bed watching Wonderfalls. I am good at summer lounging. It may be the only thing i am good at.

Triumphal return


from a self-imposed ten-day hiatus from the blogosphere.

Triumph (noun): A public celebration in ancient Rome to welcome a returning victorious commander and his army.

Julius Caesar couldn’t run for consul and have a triumph. He opted for the latter.

I still have too much work to do, but it’s only problematic because i insist on doing the social things i couldn’t for so long. I will manage. My triumph is the completion of this ever-so bothersome degree. Now i just have to resign myself to the loss of the best friends i have ever had…thank the lord i am returning to the only girl i would actually want to try out lesbianism with…LOL.

Kraft dinner with swiss chesse and green peas sounds yummy, doesn’t it?



I would like to take a minute to ponder junk email. Who sends them? Do they ever work? Why waste time and resources (even if minimally) on such an ineffective campaign? i am confused.

Countdown: 71 pages

If i had but one wish


Pretty please, for the love of God and all things holy, OUTLINE YOUR ESSAYS PEOPLE! If you can’t follow a strict plan when writing your draft, that does not mean that you shouldn’t outline it afterwards to put all relevant points together. I am tired of reading papers that are more like my blog entries. In fact, my blog entries may be better structured.

Things i never thought would happen: i turned down a piece of cheesecake this evening. It would have been my second, but i wasn’t so full i would have been sick if i ate more. This is a step in the right direction. If only i had managed to stir up this kind of willpower yesterday in the face of all those bagels with cream cheese and lox. Yummm……smoked fish…

Our fat blonde cat is snoring.

I should be working on a paper or my thesis. Instead i have taken a nap, watched a movie, marked three essays (but not graded them) and done a preliminary run-through of one of my classmate’s thesis drafts. Lordie.

And could someone tell me why Boisclair was talking about immigrant enrollment in undergraduate programs? How is even broaching the subject not a sign of something awry? I’m going to vote tomorrow…

dreaming in techni-colour


So very busy.
Frantically trying to get it all done.
I was afraid in the autumn of letting people down by lowering my standards or backing out of obligations. i discover that biting of more than i can chew is as likely if not more so to infuriate the people i would like to call my friends (not to mention my family)…
i won’t even begin to complain about the time skipping forward…i am sure enough blog entries have done so already.

the only reason this post is getting written is because i desperately need your help, my readers. i do not have time to do an in-depth research on dream-states unless i am going to find something productive for this one of five papers i have due within the next four weeks – do you dream in colour? ever? always? sometimes? is it linked to subject matter? are certain features of your dream in colour and not others? do you think you dream in colour, but they are the colours of the real world, so you don’t even notice? when you say “you were in my dream last night…” to someone, do you know what colour clothes they were wearing? Please think about this and respond below. if i am one of the only people not to be conscious of dreaming in colour, (as i am one of the few people not able to imagine the colour purple when i close my eyes – i can now, but i couldn’t when i first did this) then this is a dead-end. thanks.