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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I am not afraid.

So the C-meister and I went grocery shopping, in the holiday weekend sunshine. (Not at Parliament, but I figured that I should post one or more of the pics that I took this weekend. ;))

Also, I am not a supporter of the Tam!l Tig3rs, but I thought you might be interested to see Canadian democracy in action, all neat and orderly and colourful-like. (The half-dozen police that I saw (in bright yellow jackets) were on the other side of the road, down the street...they might as well have been having donuts. I heard the protesting crowd estimated at between 3000 to 6000.)

Here's an unflattering one that I think is quite funny:

And the gift of the more handsome dude:

Like the timing of periods, daylight savings time and so on, I remain surprised each time that Easter rolls around. Don't get me wrong - I'm more than excited that we still get to take Good Friday and Easter Monday as national holidays - but I AM befuddled by what is and is not open on such days.

Today, for example, the supermarket was open. C. and I did our inadvertent workout by making like a camel train in hoisting our groceries onto our backs, limbs...to trek our groceries (and in my case an additional 18L of potting soil) home through the neighbourhood. It's the moments of living like this as you schlep yourself about and make hay while the sun shines that bring a smile to your face, do they not?

The sun is shining brightly from the west into my window right now, and I turn my face to it to grow my collection of freckles and to smile with the full abandon of relaxation.

:)

Truly, very relaxed am I.

I have been quite irresponsible this weekend in terms of lifting the layer of dust that descended upon my apartment when I was away. I pat myself on the back, however, for at least cleaning out the vegetable tray in my fridge before filling it anew. Does it not seem impossible to put lovely new things in a dirty fridge?

Oh! Before I continue my ramble, I might note that I have decided to do as Anna has suggested and state clearly my feelings to Marco when I see him next month. I feel no shame in them. I love as much as I can, given what I know to be the constraints and the way that life works. I'm good with this. Love grows when you divide it and spread it around, don't we all know. There is never any shame or any loss in love. Funny how long it takes some of us to figure this out.

I was listening to a scientist speak last night on meta-cognition. We as humans are gifted with the ability to stand outside of our thoughts and guide them in one direction or another. Ultimately, that's meditation, but it's genuinely revealing: I'm doing much better of late (thank heavens to mergatroid!) because I've given up on trying to "figure everything out" (i.e. think my way out of a black room), and taken myself back to gut-level reasoning. I do best when I allow myself to revert to my natural, emotional thinking. There's a place for the other kind of thought, which the scientist fully acknowledges, but only in situations in which there are fewer variables and the brain has a better shot of getting it "right." Somehow, I'm starting to doubt that these situations comprise a large part of our existence.

I've been thinking, too, about Proustian things. I do sometimes feel that direct connection to the hippocampus and the long term memory - saudades :) - that one is supposed to feel via taste and smell. More often, however, it is my visual memory that kicks in first (and then the auditory). Just the other day, C. and I were running down the bike path along the canal and suddenly I was running along a very specific path in Australia with Shaun. I could remember everything about the exact day, the crowds around on the path, the distance we covered (1 km repeats, over a little footbridge at the end), the feeling of my heart beating wildly, the waning light. I could even hear my footsteps.

The wires are crossed in my brain. I can feel it. And I don't mind one bit. When I was a little girl I insisted that letters had colours (typical synesthetic behaviour), although oddly I don't feel that I am synesthetic at this point (at least in this particular way). I truly don't see words in colour any longer. As I write that I feel just a tiny bit mournful.

We are in the details, I think. We are in the details. And don't you love that the brain has so many compartments?? When I was a little girl I used to wonder whether I could shrink and slide through holes unseen in the baseboards in my room, visit unknown and magical places. As an adult I think of these rooms as rooms in my own cognitive possibilities, I suddenly declare! Forever an optimist! :)

So at the moment I'm trying to decide whether to head out in the final, sinking sunshine of the long weekend to buy myself another book or two. I've been cheap lately - have only been using the library - but what a source of liberation it was to simply go out and BUY the books that I wanted on Saturday. I am only now learning to trust myself and to spend my raise. I am fearful with money, in spite of appearances to the contrary. I don't yet trust that I will have enough.

Although, as I think of it, I trust myself at the moment to survive, to make changes, to take chances, to find a way, no matter what comes. I haven't felt that in ten years. It's an incredible feeling. And I don't regret that there was time "wasted" in between. It was the time that I needed to invest in getting it right. Or at least in getting it "better."

I should sign out. I'm mindlessly babbling.

I'll sign out with this final headline from the most recent CBC news broadcast: "Angry pirates vow revenge." I wonder if poolagirl is among them. ;-)

Indeed. ;)

Oh! Need a favour. Quick poll. Am about to buy a dress for work and I can't quite decide whether to buy it in navy or to buy it in pink (tea rose - i.e. not a dusky rose but something with a bit more zip). I mean, you KNOW that I want to buy it in pink...On the other hand, pink, even if it is lightweight wool, is limited seasonally (maybe...not sure), and also will show dirt more readily. Navy or black can be elegant and make much more sense. I do usually appreciate things that are practical and endure. And here I said I had reverted to emotional thinking...Step away from the computer, EB, step away...

5:34 p.m. - 2009-04-13

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