Monday, February 28, 2005

this thread here is pulling at my heart

like a hook

the thing about incredible days is that they dont come with out a price. i am spinning my threads between my forefinger and my thumb; i leave this cord splayed and un finished at the ends, i like to pick up more than one dream when i toss it up and out:

i am on the moon, it was a crash landing
it snowed yesterday
piles of paper and limited effectiveness
i am trying not to panick or grapple visibly, it doesnt look propper.

i am also just tired

i feel

far

( the 'portugal is amazing' reflection will come when i finish the paper cutting pasting and planning. portugal was wonderful though. all nighter in the london airport was also fun-- its post real vacation and some old choices, and lack of teacher training kicking me in the ass right now.)

i miss you

Saturday, February 19, 2005

backpacker


backpacker
Originally uploaded by blueolive.
In lisbon on our way south following the coast. Thank gd for this vacation. if we can figure out the bus schedule well be taking in more SUN. It is absoloutely beautiful here more people should be talking about Portugal-- at least porto coimbra and ...well everyone knows lisbon the rest are our hidden secrets. While we try to keep to a strict and meagre diet we are keeping well fed on local pastries and yesterday night at 11 pm we ate 2 fish and half a chicken. boa note- were off to lisbon on a saturday night wish you were here

Thursday, February 10, 2005

tired


tired
Originally uploaded by blueolive.
When i am eyeball-knee-and-feet tired i get particularly nostalgic. i also feel far away and watered down. in the fear that i really am watered down i write. as though the trickle of impermanent drifting thoughts set down somewhere provides a screen to sive though myself; not let me lose everything in the water that will pass though. create the substantive I as upposed to the i i find easier to identify with right now. this water, it doesnt pass under this bridge it goes through.

Le pont de St louis rey- a play translated to french- originally written in english by Thorton Wilder, was presented a few weeks ago at the Chateau Rouge, the local and beautifuly named art centre.
The theatre is about the size of the one in my highschool, or at McUni in Mtl. space for the seating is huge and i was shocked to feel so at home. I longed to be in there, any where. in the carpets in the seats sweeping the stage. the booth was suspended above us.
What i long for... no ill stick with one train of though this time.
The pont or Bridge, in the end, is a bridge of love, of transition of going somewhere. All the people on the bridge fall when it breakes but someone searching for god and branded a heretic for trying to make sense of this cosmicly directed (in his perspective) and unexpected happening (deep breath, long sentence) is burned at the steak for not recanting his tretise on the lives of the people on that bridge or what it meant interms of understanding the logic of god. in a sense walking his own bridge of love- his faith in this case.
If a bridge is a seive... think about it. does water really pass under it or through it. Context and perspective.
my little bridge is standing strong, a little soaked
wear, weary,worn

weary of my current perspective of being water instead of siving it.
So here i cast my net to ironically catch the refuse that is nothing except that it is solid.

Today though i feel slightly overwhelmed in my lack of knowledge of world history or geography, i will go home and chew on the bitter sweet fruit
that i have sprinkled in my rice, bright red jewles calling me to old dinner tables.
gotta run cant do another night without a phone card
that and its my mums birthday
i have forgotten it often in the past
working on building bridges not burning them
haha

today
i am
a little
achy
and
gelatenous

but i am going to bake zucchini bread
and i ate creps with teachers
and i got a note from a student on diddle paper (stupid sticker book equivalent of the times-waste of paper i say except this one: the note said pour roxanna je taime et jespere que vous passez des bonnes vacances (i dont have it right now so bear w! teh grammar!vocab errors)

it was from one of my CM1s (about grade 4 )
awww

over and out.

Monday, February 07, 2005

it was -12 with snow and i was happy

i know i know i know these postings have been riddle with typ-os and spelling errors
and i thank you for trying to take that as part of my charm, and the general state of exhaustion i am in when i finally sit down to write, and my charm...
i dont know that i have much to say. today i am just keeping in touch. wondering a little at the gloppy shape of my life and trying to deside if its acceptable. It will have to be.

i finished my scholarship letter
thats where ive been. i wasnt allowed to type non essential things until it was done. Needless to say i have started cooking again and am still knawing on things ... though with less intensity than when i began...knawing.

i have yet to cut my hair off...there are days where the scissors are just out of reach and im too lazy but it will happen. motivation and rash actions will culminate is something. It might also be a haircut that the grandmothers would look at and say, yes yes it is ....uh hhum, something. That would be fun. see the twinkle.

When i continue announcing that i know i will not be a primary school teacher at intervals which are begining to deminish in thier distance--(aka increase in thier frequency), i know that an up comming vacation is much needed.
I think a mark of how long it takes to get settled in is also how long it takes for me to be busy. but what kind of busy am i...busy busy work or busy like filling? i mean i-hope-im-no-missing-a-meeting-or-tutoring class /i really wanted to go into geneva on tuesday night but insead somehow i ended up sending out an invitation to anyone i knew for dinner/party at my house.
Yep all this and i KNOW i would feel better if only i could keep on track of whatever the hell is is i need to do daily. while the clenliness has gone up in my new post student life and thus my room and appartment; the clutter and head culutter still bump elbows and leave me running arround the night before my dad arrives to try and make it look somewhat presentable-- how i keep my space has been a constant matter of tension between us. I succeeded in presenting a sufficiently clean appartment.

Also I wandered genev w this parent of mine and drank port in a bar that i wouldnt have gone into; and four years ago i certainly wouldnt have gone into with my parent. I have a new appreciation for geneva i want to share it with anyone who will visit-- it seems i may have the opportunity to do so soon. I also saw Lausanne-- although i didnt get to actually drive stickshift; i did learn the principles and practice in spirit the whole drive to this second major city allong the Swis side of Lac Geneve. The waterfront is beautiful and while i know it has a happening night life i couldnt help but feel somewhat lost among the grey very flat 'classical' feeling architecture... no judgements on the city though, my emotional barrometer isnt an accurate way to test a citys character. That we could drink tea at the bar-- and they gave us lemon-- with out thinking twice was another unexpected parent experience. so were the layers upon layers of city. and the castle that had a street number on it... number 4 just behind teh church that looks like it comes out of the cartoon artwork of the movie qbout notre dame... what period is that archictecture? un believable. oh im tired and hitting dampy feeling--the chill that settles in after a really long tiring day-- i can feel the cold circles under my eyes, even if you cant see them yet. i woke up this morning between 3 and 5 am worrying. Well, contemplating. It is unexpected. it reminds me i have goals to achieve. Still not working for the UN. Not doing a intensely physical sport-- too tired to try really. No registration process started on PSych intro courses...why am i this tired? The letter writing has begun again. Cant find the envelopes though. damn it. Got a new bottle of maple syrup and persian chickpea cookies that are hard to find out of the T dot-- m y cousin in NY even had the 'rents pick them up for his wedding because thats where theyre the best. i also miss barbarry bread. If im lucky ill also get my hands on the recepie for Coucou.

Coucou: the completely serious greeting that i though wzs an excentric but endeering quality of my pervious landlord/collegue, only to be greated often by my students in the street and by collegues during down time. Coucouco

Also a dish made of all sorts of green vegetables and...fried? that i miss
Having not been cooking from a recipie, and being limited in my spice collection, frankly im starting to feel like im eating the same thing alot-- also since i live alone i eat whatever i cook for a long time. It does get monotonous.

I went to a Women's Collective of 8th of March (international womens day) meeting again-- this time there were many more people and i was definitely stuck in the cross current dialogues of the flyer design and distribution method and the tabling committee. However my placement as a late commer at the latecommer end of the table, nearest to the door, meant that the late commer amnesty intl person sat next to me and afforded me the opportunity to learn that there is by chance a meeting here in my little ol town tonight-- and really it is by chance since it is held by weekly either here or in a little town that is not too far but not to easy to get to either...so off i go to meet some more people today.

merrrr

tired

chilly

recipies any one?

love you miss you wish you were here

really really really lookinforward to a BREAK in portugal
i am never going to be a primary school teacher but today i laughed more than i yelled. i think that is an accomplishment i am proud of.

does anyone know a place two friendly individuals can sleep briefly (and need i say cheeply) in LONDON en route to Portugal; somewhere that isnt the airport?