enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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only a few late-night sighs.

This weekend is busy, busy, busy. I have a major project, the bulk of which I must finish tomorrow. So be it.

My entire right side feels divorced from my left. The right leg and hip gently ache, all of the time. It's enough to convince me that once I'm healed I perhaps should retire fully from running. I don't think I'm really serious about that, but I might be. We'll see. This injury and the stress that I am experiencing in regard to it have been quite a surprise and in a sense--and this is going to sound tautological and so foolish-- an alert that I am not as stoic and unflaggingly hardy as I have long believed.

But flux is good. Change is good. I embrace change. I want to become a different person, one with a different kind of life. While I was cooking black-eyed beans on the stove this evening for a bean salad I spent some time looking at Ottawa real estate. I started poking around at listings in areas that I think will be the next to be gentrified. That suits my taste.

At this exact moment (meaning today only, probably), I am leaning towards buying a house next year. Mostly though, I want a garden. A huge garden. A beautiful plot of land that is my own. As my hour of sifting through the available houses wore on, I found myself zeroing in on houses that all looked exactly the same: solid, older structures--small or mid-sized--and swimming in the middle of an expanse of grass and mature trees. My dreams are easy to pin down. Two funny thoughts struck me as I did this: this exercise would be more fun with a partner; I will probably have a partner with whom to do this quite soon. This last thought is a shocking one--to anyone who has known me in the last few years--but the remarkable thing is that I'm suddenly feeling open to forming relationships. I think I'm actually going to start dating again! Shocking thought, that! I'm coming to a kind of peace with who I am, I guess. Although my path isn't clear, I'm pretty clear about who I am, warts and all.

So perhaps the original plan of an apartment and membership in a community garden is a better plan. My little kernel of a plan in my head in recent months has actually been to rent a funky but relatively cheap apartment in Ottawa, save all of my money, and then buy that piece of rocky shoreline of Georgian Bay that I have dreamt of for so long. As I know from experience, Ottawa will begin to weary me in relatively short order.

Unfortunately, Georgian Bay real estate is through the roof. I will likely buy land and build a small cottage later on. I could live with land, however. How I love those shores, and all of the little islands dotting them. Here is an example. And another. And another.

Buying a piece of Georgian Bay land without any structures on it would probably suit me best right now, since I have a strong feeling that my wanderlust has not yet been satisfied. I may yet move back to Vancouver. I don't know. It's all exciting, though. I was speaking with someone today and I realized that I do, indeed, only have two and a half months remaining in this degree. And then I'll be working again, mobile, flexible. It's all within my grasp.

It's funny, for a while now I have considered not much to be within my grasp. It's foolish to close down one's thinking in that way, although it likely IS somewhat related to age. I was reading an article in the paper today about the length of time it takes adults to learn languages. I mean, that's a no brainer--every anglo politician over the age of forty in Canada provides evidence that learning another language as an adult and sounding convincing whilst speaking it is an enormous challenge. (There are few things more painful in the public sphere here than listening to middle-aged Liberal leadership candidates butchering the portions of their speeches that must of needs be spoken in French.) I mean, I'm not necesarily saying that French Canadians speaking English are much better (witness Gilles Duceppe in debate). The thing with the French Canadians though is that they sometimes have a haughty air that makes their mistakes seem deliberate or charming. The anglos on the other hand uniformly look bumbling and apologetic (as they should be):).

The point with that little bit about languages is that in the same article there was a remark--not terribly scientific, I'll admit--from a driving instructor about how much more difficult it is to teach older people than younger people to drive. The argument was that older people are less likely to take risks, etc. I mean, I guess that is true. But then at the same time the people who waited until they were older to attempt to get their licenses are almost certainly on average more risk averse by nature than others who were on the road at sixteen. I am speaking from personal experience, in part. Have I ever mentioned the fact that my parents forced me to take the Young Dr!vers of Canada program when I was seventeen, since otherwise I wasn't going to bother getting my license? It was a punishment for something that I had done wrong. That always strikes me as highly amusing, and an excellent window into my personality. I like to drive and actually I am an excellent driver, but I almost never drive because I am petrified of it before I begin.

Well, now that I've been snitty and boring enough for this evening :), it is time for me to chat on the phone with C. and watch my first movie. I rented three movies last night and instead I watched The Wings of the Dove, that movie with H3l3na Bonh@m C@rter and L!nus Ro@ch (after the Henry J@mes novel, of course). It was my third time seeing that movie, I believe, and for some reason I enjoy it more with each new viewing.

10:22 p.m. - 2006-05-20

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