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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On the banks of my enchantment

First, I would like to share a little French Canadian song that I like very much with you, if you are interested (sorry--I can't find a translation of the lyrics...but he asks an astronaut floating in the heavens such things as how his father is doing, tells him that life on earth is heavy-- he'd like to go up in rocket, what does he see when he looks at the earth--all the people looking for answers to their questions?, how the astronaut disappeared as he ascended but he supposes that he still exists though he's never seen him, how he's waiting for his return, how we need someone who can save us and tell us the truth...seriously lovely stuff):

Astronaute--Damien Robitaille

I've been thinking about something that teranika said a while back, about how if she lives to be a particular age she will only have x summers more to enjoy. I'm starting to think this way, too. It's not only a poignant thought, but I think it's an incredibly useful way in which to conceptualize life. In spite of my professed attraction to infinity--I'm currently reading a history of the mathematical concept-- I'm only truthfully able to function with bite-sized bits that cater to my meagre understanding.

I was thinking this way yesterday, too, when I was blowing my hair dry--an infrequent occurrence-- and I noticed that there was a green, glowing bit in the centre of the electric coils in the hair dryer. I kept on blow drying and then it occurred to me that I should probably exert effort to avert a fire. It might be time to get out and buy a new blow dryer, even if it means braving the mall. :-) (I'm not poking fun in any way--I really think it helpful to recognize the finiteness of our seasons; I'm just being silly me.)

***

I went running last night in the crisp, cool air alongside the canal. As I've said many times before, I just love to run in the dark.

I'm not sure if this running in the dark thing is about running under cover of darkness�to hide, to feel private--or if the dimming of the lights on the world pleases me because I can only see outlines and not ugly details.

When I was returning home along the same path I was thinking about the canal's meandering, the fragile shell of ice and delicate surface lines criss-crossing that have formed on it, and about how it operates as an unknowing companion flanking me.

This musing then extended to thoughts of how we situate ourselves alongside bodies of water. When I used to travel to race I would always find water to run by: the Yarra River in Melbourne, Lake Burl3y Griffen in Canberra, the Thames in London, the Tiber in Rome, the Arno in Florence, the Harbour in Tokyo, the Harbour in Sydney, the shoreline in Victoria, False Creek or English Bay or Deep Harbour or the Fraser River in Vancouver, the Mississippi in the U.S., the St. Lawrence in Quebec, yadda yadda. I remember one of the most surreal places in which I sought out water: Yokohama, Japan. I was there in February and took myself each day through this uniformly grey city of concrete and steel to the harbour full of ships and frost-licked air.

I will always be more at home out of doors. I *get* spiritual union when I breathe deeply of fresh air in the green woods, or with my face turned to the sky or the fog or with my ears full of the buzzing of insects on a sweat-soaked afternoon.

So when I was in my running happy place on the way home last night I was thinking about the parallels that people have drawn between a human life and a river. I suppose that there is something to that. At the source you have a certain amount of potential, in the middle you mostly have some choice as to meandering (though much less than we-- as a culture of feigned equality--would like to admit--and a river has much more time), and in the end everything dumps out either as a silted trickle or an onslaught at some amorphous conclusion.

I know, I know--I shouldn�t quit my day job as a middling economist and attempt to become, like, a philosopher or something. :)

I�m now reminded of all of those talent competitions in the 1970s in which people sang, �Some say love is like a river�� Um. Ah, whatever. I�ll let it sit. I'm open to embarrassing myself these days and that is a positive switch in the winds.

I cherish my weekends so fully. I�m only sad that it is already Sunday. I have work to do today, some shopping errands to run, etc., etc.

Aside: I am having a moment of relief and recognition, of monumental proportions. There is currently a piece on the radio about girls mutilating Barbies. I thought I was the only one!!! (Seriously, I used to tell stories of cutting their heads off and so on quite trepidatiously. I had thought that I was mostly ticked off that everyone gave them to me and to my brother Lego and cool T0nka trucks.)

The coffee smell wafting over here from the kitchen is extraordinarily wonderful, as weekend morning coffee only can be.

Somehow, between work and shopping and application profile statements today, I need to watch three movies. The first is Caf� Lumi�re from Japan.

Sorry, that was dull. I�m not feeling terribly inspired this morning. Just happy�contented.

I bought the coolest Christmas party top last evening�sheer black pleated silk over the palest pink lining, empire waist created by ribbon detail, and short straps composed of tiny little pompoms on ribbon (hopefully convincing as pompoms and not resembling notions usually seen on heavy draperies :)). And it was deeply on sale and quite inexpensive. I like it. Christmas party duty is such a pain, but I need to remain chipper and appealing to contacts...ugh. shiver. Do pompoms send the wrong message? ;-)

One last thing: I met a new guy via email yesterday. It was sort of a weird thing through friends who wanted us to meet. I thought I�d hate him, but I liked the fact that he called me on much of my BS. I found him�attractive. We�ll see.

I am aging. This Elizabeth Sm@rt line is rotating in my brain: Her breasts looked like virgin shrines that had been robbed.

11:21 a.m. - 2006-11-26

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