foot down

I had such a good night. Both nights. Friday and Saturday. I love me my wine lately. For years I was the girl who ordered a diet coke with dinner, but no more. I love the way a glass of wine feels, especially on an empty stomach. Or two. Or three.

And it goes down so smoothly. I think what it is, is that I have always been unable to let go and enjoy myself, but I am getting better at it, for better or worse. Tonight it ended too early for me and I came home to an empty apartment, wanting more. More drinks, more laughs, more hazy interactions. In lieu of what I really wanted—of all of the things I really want—I took an ativan. I will feel relaxed. I will be able to truly drift off on a cloud of restful sleep. It's better than dessert.

I haven't been this good in a long time. Maybe the pendulum is swinging. Setting myself up, waiting for someone to put their foot down. Someone always puts their foot down. Life puts its foot down. I don't know what it is, but I feel good right now and I'm going with it.

in the window of Marc Jacobs

this is how we do it

I've pretty much given up the dream of being chosen as a blogger "blog of note", what with the lack of posting (not to mention the lack of quality posting), however I do find some good reads there.

I still hope to publish something someday besides a peer-reviewed journal article. I'm not sure if I ever told you that. Not sure if, in all of the years I've been posting, I bothered to mention that I have some far-reaching aspirations. Well, there you go.

I also don't know if I have ever mentioned how much I like the song "Bike", by Pink Floyd. That and "Itchycoo Park", by...someone who is not Pink Floyd. They remind me of all of the years my sister and I spent listening to music as pseudo-stoners—13 year old wannabes if you will—before we were ever introduced to hash (still don't know if I am using that em-dash correctly).

PS How efficient are we Canadians? We have been hearing about the US election for over a year now. The Canadian election is apparently going to be called this weekend. Our campaign and election will take place before the US election even happens.

PPS Vote Dion

PPPS If it can't be Clinton, Vote Obama

I know what I know if you know what I mean

It was a good weekend. Sunshine and shoe shopping, drinks and dinners, a night at the movies, running, and tennis.

Like Tom Cruise in Tropic Thunder, this summer has been a pleasant surprise. I have barely even noticed the rain.

The only complaint I have is that the music of 2008 has been underwhelming. Imagine if I was back in summer camp. What would the great songs of the summer have been? Would Katie Perry's I kissed a girl be the best there is?

Where is the Jack and Diane of 2008? John Mellencamp isn't the only one. There are always songs. You know the ones. Maybe it's rose colored glasses, but where is Edie Brickell and The New Bohemians when you need them?

Aside from the music, going into this summer it is safe to say I was not at my best. So imagine my surprise when, despite the mediocre music and the record rains, this summer has turned out so well. It isn't because everything is going right [it's not..although it is mostly], or I am having regular sex [I'm not], or I am in love [not, unless you count my new fall pumps]. Not even close.

I don't even think that Don Henley's Boys of Summer would be able to drag me into the summer-Sunday blues. I would like to think that it's more than a bottle of pills, but whatever it is that saved me, I'll take it.

There is very little of August left and I intend to squeeze out every last drop.

I am packing my bags.

I will be spending it somewhere fabulous.

flashpoint

I just watched Flashpoint for the first time; a great new show on CBS. I heard or read something about it recently, I can't remember which, so I decided to PVR it. I am a huge fan of Law and Order type shows, particularly Law and Order SVU, so I am always willing to try out a new show of the same genre. Usually I am disappointed, but not this time. What a great show! I am so entirely impressed!

book of negroes

I am no longer going to waste my time reading something that I really don't enjoy. And more importantly, I am not going to feel bad about it.

It's a lot like dating. Do you know how many second and third dates I have gone on because I should like the guy, for a variety of reasons ranging from his religion, to his good looks, to his success, to his 'great personality'? Yet here I am, still single. So all of that time spent not enjoying myself and conforming to ideas that are not mine didn't get me anywhere in that department.

This is what I realized after I was about a quarter of the way into reading the Book of Negroes, an amazing book I just finished by Lawrence Hill. It is a fiction based in fact. I fell in love with the characters and I did not want it to end. More than that, this story of African slavery changed how I see the world.

Like I always say (so often more delayed than necessary), when you know, you know.

heaven

I had the most delicious lunch today - a braised beef brisket and carmelized onion sandwich from Black Camel.

the lottery

I am not going to bother to go in to where I have been and why I have taken such a long blogging hiatus. I'll save that for a rainy day or never, but something is coming up that I felt like writing about. Who knows if anyone is still reading, but if you are, feel free to give your two cents worth.

Next week I am scheduled to take part in a massive study. If I consent, they will take a DNA sample to find out if I have 'the breast cancer genes'.

If you have the genes, you basically have a 70% chance of having breast cancer and also a much higher than normal chance (I forget the percentage) of ovarian cancer.

If you are positive you basically have three options. You can:

(1) Prophylactically have your breasts removed, and/or your ovaries removed;

(2) Take medications to reduce your risk (i.e., tamoxifen); or

(3) Watch and wait (with frequent and intensive screening).

None of these options sound particularly appealing.

The chance that I have this gene is extremely small, but that being said I can't help but think how my life would be altered if I do.

I think I already know what I would do. I would get pregnant right away and as soon as I had the baby and maybe finished breastfeeding, I would have my ovaries and breasts removed (and then breasts reconstructed).

Who knows what I would really do if faced with the decision, but that was my initial instinct.

But it is even more complicated than that. Even life insurance or health insurance policies become a problem once you have this kind of information, not to mention the change in how you see and live your life. How about going through surgical menopause at 33? Not the most appealing idea.

So what's better? Not knowing?

My doctor was the one who said this was a good idea, and at the time I completely agreed, but now I am getting cold feet.

It reminds me of the way I feel about the lottery. I have never dreamed of winning a 100 million dollars like most people seem to. I have never longed for an irreversible transformation. I want my life, as hard and lonely as it sometimes. It can also be great.

And it's mine.

I am at a loss.

bright and shiny

I ordered the new James Frey. I never read A Million Little Pieces. Not because of the controversy. I have no issues with his version of the truth because I know there is no such thing. I just never got to it. There are so many books sitting in my apartment just waiting to be read. But I haven't been able to commit to words as much as I normally do. I've been thinking of them, using them obviously, but I just haven't been able to commit to them long enough to read a book or even write a post.

I ordered the new James Frey because I can not walk past a book store without losing myself in the aesthetics of the book. I have fallen for it like no other since that compact burgundy package that brought me the Catcher in the Rye.

I don't expect the impact that J.D. Salinger had on me by any stretch, but I went ahead and ordered it. And I ordered the new David Sedaris book.

And I feel like I'm taking some chances here. And that's how I am, in case you were wondering.

dead on the wall

It's taken me 33 years to come to this; to taste the truth. I know there is nothing we can do to rub the stains out, to prevent it from going to rot. I have to force myself to look at it, trust it, and let it be. Somewhere in there, between the mess of conception and a pile of dirt, there are moments so magnificent you couldn't possibly dream them up let alone devise them; harness them at best, but this kind of thing can never be contrived. Once you try to pin it down it ceases to exist. It is literally a specimen, dead on the wall. And that, my friends, is what has happened to me.

All of this can be summed up nicely by a quote from The Princess Bride.

"Life is pain, Highness. Anyone who says differently is selling something".

It was either going to be that or my favourite, "My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die", but I couldn't figure out how to make that one fit.

I can't be sure I will survive this. Actually, the one thing I can be sure of is that I won't. And neither will you. I guess it is just a question of time. To see it for what it is is painful in and of itself, but I was always a soft hearted kid. At least that's what my father used to tell me on drives home from his apartment Sunday evenings as I choked back sobs. He would say that and I would stare out the window trying to imagine what a soft heart looked like. I already knew what it felt like; a pain in my chest that never really went away.

big red dog

We cut between two buildings to get to St. Clair. There was this slightly frothy puddle in the ally.

"Careful, don't walk in that", he said, a gentlemen-like warning. "Looks like someone took a leak".

"I don't know why, but I was thinking it was a drool puddle."

He looked at me, like what?

"I know. I don't get it either. I was picturing Clifford the Big Red Dog or something." I shrugged.

He laughed like he got it. I wondered how.

***

Just now as I was writing, I heard this sound from somewhere down on the street. At first I thought it was a woman, or women plural, screaming. It was agony, I was sure of it. I got a glimpse of it and it was bad...until it wasn't.

In a millisecond I knew it was music blaring from a passing car. That's all. But it could have gone either way; about as likely as a big red dog drool puddle.

Nothing's impossible. We should all know that by now.