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

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On what side of the fence do your dreams lie?

Oh dudes...very tired.

I don't think, however, that I have a cold. I think, rather, that it is allergies. I took my first allergy tablet of the season today and C. pointed out the obvious - that I hadn't even thought of - that I should be taking them continuously because it's going to take a while for the inflammation to retreat. I mean, duh! I should know this from medicating my asthma when I was younger.

Went to the writers' festival again today. Interestingly, one of the women whom I met for coffee last week invited me to whip out for a lunchtime session on Pierre Trud2au and L3ster B. Pearson (two former Canadian PMs). So that was cool.

I was feeling rather shitty about my rather unfocused research work in the last couple of weeks (that happens in research, unfortunately, or at least it happens to me...I drift), but nevertheless I went to the fest this evening.

This evening's talks were, as I noted yesterday, headlined by major public intellectuals. I have only a couple of thoughts on this to share at the moment. First, during the first talk I thought: "I want to marry a public intellectual. That's it!" (Honestly, if the men of Ottawa only knew that the studly-looking ones looking to see if I'm checking them out on the street hold ABSOLUTELY no interest for me. The man I found heartbreakingly attractive today was a ruthlessly articulate, middle-aged half-bald journalist/author who lectured exquisitely on one historical period.) During the second talk, which was a chummy chat between old friends - our former Gov3rnor General (who was a public intellectual in the literary arts before becoming GG) and a famous historian who is now something or other at Oxford (Margar3t MacMillan) - all I could think (gently/not bitterly) of was how that life was stolen from me by the circumstances of my childhood.

It's not that I would have ended up a great intellectual in the field of history, but it is the world in which my grandmother and my dad grew up, and I regret that I didn't have the emotional strength, tools or support to pursue my own love of that field and fit into that world when it came time to pursue my post-secondary education. I ached during the talk to BE on that stage. I know it is too late. I cannot go back and follow that path. I keep on talking about that Ph.D. in history and I will probably do it - I would guess within the next ten years - but getting established in an academic job at an advanced age would be quite a feat. No, I think I'm practical enough to recognize that some doors close. I'm stuck being an economist, and I might as well make the best of it. I can do a decent job of it. But let's go ahead and find me a public intellectual to marry, no? :)

Will I go to bed a little bit sad that I get to live a life in which the passion has to be external to my job? Yes. I've always wanted to live exclusively within my passions. I've always wanted to be one of those people. Now, the task will be to not become bitter and blaming of my mother in particular because I needed to wade through a lake of misery before I could get to even the reasonable level of stability and joy that I have now. She had her own crap, I suppose. That's the problem with families - you often have to work through so many layers that it's only for later generations to get it right. I probably missed my chance. And there will be no one to follow after me to experience it all.

Oh well! I suppose it's a positive that I don't have a daughter on which I'm heaping the pressure of my disappointed life and unfulfilled dreams. ;-)

I walked through the market on the way home. It's a bustling area for Ottawa, even on a Monday night. Who knew?

I do hate the smell of restaurants congested in one location though. If you've ever worked in food service - as I did when I was young - you'll know what I mean. You never forget that smell on your clothes, in your hair...

There was the very tiniest of crescent moons in the sky as I walked along. I walked along with my head tilted skyward. The buildings tend to be low (three to four storey 1910, 1920) walk-ups. There are some earlier, Victorian buildings in the market as well, but you know what I mean. I could see the occasional light flickering from someone's computer screen in an upper window. The city never seems to open its secrets to me.

Anyhow. I don't think I have any additional observations for tonight. I have so many observations to make but I almost always think, "OH GOD I'd better not say THAT!" I will say this, however: There was an older dude sitting in front of me with the most fascinating full-on checkerboard pattern cut in wrinkles on the back of his neck. Oh and hair colour works on older women only some of the time - it's a mixed bag. The most attractive older woman I saw tonight in fact had grey hair. I know you wish I'd talked instead of the uses and abus3s of history, but that I will save for another day. :)

(Head slumps forward and only slightly adrift of the keyboard. Time for bed.)

PS: Not making anything for the senior economist's baby. He's really not that big of a deal to me, anyhow. He used to annoy me, but in time he will be a distant memory.

11:03 p.m. - 2009-04-27

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

previous - next

other diaries:

stepfordtart
ohell
awittykitty
annanotbob
manfromvenus
smartypants
fifidellabon
hungryghost
hissandtell