Wednesday, December 01, 2004
back from the brink
Well,
After being indoors for roughly four days straight, with tiny breaks for such diverting activities as school and occasionally food, I have successfully completed ALL of the projects on the aforelisted to-do list by their scheduled due dates, and I only sacrificed a little bit of my sanity in the process (at one point I was quite sure that the refrigerator was talking to me. It wasn't quite as scary as in Requiem for a Dream, but it came pretty close).
I am angry that Bush came to Canada. Bastard.
I am sad that Pierre Berton died. I love Canadians like him.
And I love, love, LOVE Sylvia Plath's The Bell Jar. READ IT! This book is poingnant, fascinating, easy to relate to, easy to read, and FUNNY! Don't let anyone tell you otherwise. I laughed out loud in a school hallway today, and I didn't care what anyone thought of me, because it was THAT funny! Don't let anyone spout bullshit about it being a feminist tract either. Because so far it's just the story of a disillusioned, very clever girl in the big city. And I relate so much to her it's like she's an extension of my self. This guy I met on a train to Zurich who I talked to for a half hour told me to read it, without knowing anything about me in advance, and now if I could meet that guy again I'd tell him he's a mighty perceptive individual. This book SPEAKS to me. And I'm sad to say that (Anthony Bourdain aside) it's been a long time since a book did that for me.
I really shouldn't be writing this now, since I have to meet Mel at 11:30 tomorrow and I'm so sleep deprived I feel like I'm in the twilight zone, where the light blurs in front of me and everything seems just a little unreal.
I'm home now, and glad to be here. Mew Cat ("Coneco" as Kun and the Boy have dubbed her --Japanese for kitten) was nice and all, but so is my own bed with my new purple fuzzy sheets and a some moody Jeff Buckley in the stereo and Sylvia Plath as the voice in my head. Plus, I could only deal with that deranged neighbourhood for so long. Even the corner store seemed to be shooting up several times a day.
And on that happy note, to bed!
-N
