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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Sunday afternoon

There are just so many interesting things to do in life; too many, in fact.

I have a problem with diaries. Even with running/training diaries, I have never been able to be consistent beyond a few months. Perhaps what I need to do is to create a diary in which I actually glue (a scrapbook, I suppose) in the interesting postcards and tidbits that I pick up. Perhaps the visual interest would sustain my attention.

I write all of this now, since I daily read something or hear something that sparks my interest and that I think could come in handy at some point. Examples today are notes found in the paper about hiking the Nootka trail on No0tka Island, off the coast of Vancouver Island. It's a trail that is half the length of the West Coast Trail, but that takes about the same length of time to hike (6-7 days). It's less well-traveled than the WCT, not serviced by any Parks Canada patrols, and so less safe. (I love the line of the bush pilot delivering the hikers, and quoted in the article, when asked about safety patrols: "Well, I guess you could always go out on the beach and do a line dance to try to attract the attention of a passing sea plane.") I can't think of anything I like less than going into the woods and meeting a stream of other trekkers, however, so I imagine that all one needs for comfort on the No0tka is a reasonably-sized party of one's own.

So I suppose that I will have the task of assembling a group of 6 or so people who are free to take time to do such a trek at the same time (and who would like to sleep out on rugged beaches and by waterfalls with wolves and bears!). Such a task as one gets older! Anyhow. It's not in the cards this year, at any rate.

The trip on No0tka sounds particularly nice since one finishes the trail in a First Nations settlement (the trail actually traverses Mow@chaht Indian territory and so you have to pay them a modest crossing/camping fee) at the bottom tip of the island and these friendly people will rent you a comfy cabin with a fireplace. There is also a floating lodge relatively nearby in the Sound where one can sun and rent kayaks. (Idyllic setting complete with once-nearly-extinct sea otters---what am I waiting for?) The Mow@chat village has an interesting and sad/bloody history that you can learn about, too. Captain Co0k and William Bl!gh in fact landed there in 1778.

So I've written all of this down here, when it really should go in a paper journal--or a reasonable electronic archive--so that it is not lost. As of August I will have a graduate degree in library and information science (I feel badly that it pains and embarrasses me to write this, for somebody has to do the work, and I am passionate about archives, social equity, access and literacy), and yet I index my notes with descriptions like Sunday afternoon?!?!? (I was recently assisting in an archive in which a filmmaker had indexed decades' worth of films by the places he had shot them, e.g. "Basement, University of Toronto," and I thought it reasonable at the time to laugh at him.)

There was also an article by Mark B!ttman in the paper, about eating on the Cote D'Azur. His taste seemed to be right up my alley-- few things seem as beautiful to me as cooking with lemons! And the article would not have registered had a kind reader not mentioned the writer to me!

My leg is sore again today. Perhaps I did too much over the last two days. Yesterday afternoon I made the unfortunate mistake of biking to a mall in the north end of the city in order to find a bike bell (and, optimistically, to find a satisfactory top or outfit for Friday's party).

I truly loathe shopping in a mall. I'm too sensitive, I am sure. Shopping in a mall at this point in my life, however, causes me nothing but despairing feelings. And I know exactly what it is: store after store of cheap, crappy clothes that I, like everyone else, have way too much of already. I never understood when I was in high school why my math teacher seemed to be frozen in time in her 1960s miniskirt suits, but now I do: One reaches a point at which one wants to spend one's time and money in other ways.

So I think that I am only going to shop at VV and Goodwill from now on, for all things other than undergarments and the occasional professional suit or crisp shirt. I'm going to start ripping up old clothes and making new things with them. I've been doing this with sweaters for a long time--ripping them up and using the wool anew for new designs--so why not fabric garments, too?

My favourite dress in my wardrobe was made from old sheets, which if you think about it is simultaneously gross and pleasing, so I am aware that I am mostly mad and that one should take such ravings with a salt lick.

OK. I have one of today's projects done and one more to do, but intermittent to this I must walk to the market for an afternoon browse and cheese-shop.

I watched a very interesting public television documentary on G!acometti the other night and it galvanised me to make a pact with myself that I will never finish a day without drawing a line. His drawings were absolutely amazing. His philosophy, too. I love the fact that he became obsessed with the human head, and that he couldn't make peace with the the slim set of intangibles that separates it from inanimacy.

The other interesting thing that I have been entertained by was an interview with J. Olaf K0ss. I had thought for quite a while about volunteering with R!ght to Pl@y, although this is not what I thought of this time. This time, I thought about volunter teaching abroad, or, more likely, if I were to use my library qualification, setting up libraries abroad. I have volunteered with an organization that gets textbooks into colleges in war-torn countries, and that wants to promote locate publishing culture and I think this is great. I stopped volunteering with it, however, since the organization is poorly-run and doesn't seem to be able to stay focused on its mandate. In principle, however, I think the project has a great deal of merit and might be a way to go. I feel constantly frustrated that I can't make a decision about where to concentrate my energy.

That sums up my life perfectly: unfocused--and so lost to the ether--energy. I have to find one focusing principle and then stick with it. I know this is true--nothing gets done otherwise. I know this on a deep level, and yet I am unable to commit to any one thing in particular. Which is a waste, because I am capable of being an unyieldingly tenacious person when I believe in someone or something. I know that I could get something done, if small, if only I would try.

Ugh. Intervention, please.

2:03 p.m. - 2006-06-11

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