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This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

But you don't really care for music, do ya? Saturday, January 17, 2009 |

christmas ball

The sun has come back for short appearances at 10 in the morning. It sneaks a peek up over the farthest southern horizon you can look to, then sinks back down like a balloon losing air. Truth be told, I hardly missed it's absence. The dark is so soothing.

the baffled king composing Hallelujah...

Well, its been a bit of a rough day. Work demands strain the quality of my time spent in isolation at my new perch in Igloolik. Just here for work matters until Thursday. I have a new roommate in Hall Beach and she seems great so far. But there always is the honeymoon period. So I'm not expecting much, either from myself or her. No expectations, means no disappointments later on.
One of my secrets has been aired by another. Despite the initial burst of anger and self-righteousness, things seemed to have calmed down in my mind. I guess this stage is what one would call: Damage control. So I've sent out my white flags, and can do nothing now but hope for the best. Silly really. I never hope for the best. I have just gotten used to expecting the worst.
but I'm not really in the mood for damage control, either. In this instance, I'm hoping (oops, bit of an expectation here) that we can all act like adults and move on. But I sense that is unlikely. I can blame the one who spilled the beans, or I can blame myself for indulging myself in his audience. Either way, the damage is done.

So, I'm sitting here in the chilly living room of the house I am temporarily occupying, typing this out and listening to an old favourite. A hot bath has been drawn and bloodletting is on my mind, little silken swirls of it in steamy hot water. Memories, I suppose. Or scenes of a movie I can't look away from.

My fingernails are painted baby blue, an opposite to the black I had gotten during my airport manicure in Toronto last week (feels like a month ago). I've only been home for a week yesterday and yet, it feels as though I've been missing in action for quite some time. Or that I've been underwater, swimming. Night swimming. And only coming up for air now. This past week has felt absolutely endless.

My thoughts have turned back to what to do, where to go next and the center of my mind has been focused on teaching english overseas. Vietnam calls me, has called me in the past and it looks like a reality. Or it looks like it could become my reality. If I so choose. The idea of social work in another community or back in Ontario is not an attractive one....just now. Perhaps later.

you know, I used to live alone before I knew ya'...

My bath water is waiting, but I just got off the phone with Craig who is on his own tonight with his very busy offspring, Benji, so he has to call back once things are settled down in his household. In effect, I'm on hold. Just not on the line. Nothing's on the line. He tells me about the song he wrote for me, the lyrics should make me uncomfortable, they are that close...but instead, I'm just eager to hear the finished product and add it to my collection. He's so dear to me in an abstract sort of way, this Craig.

I'm still even, I think. Despite my efforts to sabotage the sense of being even just to see what would happen. Nothing is what has happened. And this makes me feel content.

I just want to get moving. Time to go somewhere else. Time to plan, makes solid plans and follow through. My trusty little dog packed up with me, and off I go. But that's a little ways away yet. Now is the money saving time. Later, will be the fun time.

It's just a shame I can't combine the two and do what I do best....leave.


Hallelujah - Jeff Buckley

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I still hate New Years Friday, January 02, 2009 |

Happy New Year

Rose and I, ringing in the New Year at some club opening in London, Ontario.
Truth be told, I'm still exhausted. I think it's a combo between running around all over the place at a constant pace for the past 3 weeks, and my mood.

I still hate New Years, but didn't kick anyone, or get into a drunken brawl at the bar. I did however, buy pants that were too long (which necessitated a lot of hoiking up during the night) and awesomely high black patent heels and pink silk stockings. I wore a fancy bar under a satin jacket and it all pulled together nicely enough, I suppose. Nothing to remark about the night in general except that I ended up walking back to my fancy hotel in my bare feet because the snow was on a mission to make me slip and fall. At my age, a hip breakage could be bad news *grin*

Oh, and people did take photos of my breasts all evening and tell me I was pretty. Weird.

I'm at Rose's now, typing out this entry, about to have dinner and then an early bed time with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind to lull me to sleep. I just need this. Time to slip underwater and come up for air tomorrow morning. A couple of days left in London, then back to my mother's neck of the woods before finally flying back to Nunavut on thursday.

Mixed emotions about the vacation, although I am glad I came for it. I've managed to grab a few things that will be very useful for me Up North, and I have had a lot of time to spend with family. In fact, one more day to go.

And of course, with all that has been going on, I have this urgent need to figuratively wrap cotton around my ears and eyes so I can block out for awhile. But...that will have to wait, unless I manage it tonight.

ok, I'm out.