At the tai chi class yesterday we finished learning the whole set! I still feel kind of awkward, and I don't entirely know what to do with my hands for all the moves, but the feet are good. And, the best thing, is that even though I'm currently suffering through a full right-side attack of knee/wrist/elbow swelling and pain, I still managed to do an hour and a half class, and don't feel any the worse for it today.

time travel?

Christmas is almost here. This year I am NOT working retail, and I'm not so Scrooge-ish, on the whole. I've been baking, and I've done some Christmas shopping, and I haven't been yelled at by a single frustrated Christmas shopper. Bliss.

"Geek at 9 O'Clock, Carl"

"Prairie dogs, those little pups popping in and out of holes on vacant lots and rural rangeland, are talking up a storm. They have different 'words' for tall human in yellow shirt, short human in green shirt, coyote, deer, red-tailed hawk, and many other creatures", says The Associated Press. "They can even coin new terms for things they've never seen before, independently coming up with the same calls or words, according to Con Slobodchikoff, a Northern Arizona University biology professor and prairie dog linguist." Most scientists think prairie dogs simply make sounds that reflect their inner condition. That means all they're saying are things like "ouch" or "hungry" or "eek". But Prof. Slobodchikoff believes prairie dogs are communicating detailed information to one another about what animals are showing up in their colonies, and maybe even gossiping. -- The Globe and Mail, December 7, 2004, p. A20.

Yes, I'm supposed to be writing a paper. But this is much more interesting.

FROGS!

Kids came home from school yesterday with a warning about a cougar in the area. One of the tips they give for cougar interactions is:

"Stay calm. Talk to the cougar in a confident voice."

I wonder how the cougar will recognize that one's voice is confident? And what will that accomplish? It also doesn't tell you what to say....

Well, it looks as if I'll be going back to work tomorrow. At M's work, on a project that requires someone to answer the phones and speak French to callers. A challenge... It was funny, because just after Miguel told me that, the Jehovah's Witness lady who came to the door the first day I was off work showed up again....

It's grey and rainy here this morning, typical west coast weather. Kids have gone to school, and I'm sitting here with my coffee and my notes for a paper on conceptions of power in critical criminological theory.

I'm thinking that my feeling that I wouldn't get the job I interviewed for last week was correct. The woman who interviewed me said she would make her decision by the end of last week, and no-one called. The joys of the 'looking for work' vacuum. I worked at Community Policing on Friday, and for once the phone rang a fair bit.

The library had a book on hold for me, Rupert Ross' "Returning to the Teachings", on Aboriginal approaches to justice, and I picked it up on Saturday. One sentence that stands out, so far, for me:

"Sacred justice is found when the importance of restoring understanding and balance to relationships has been acknowledged" (27).

"Do not pursue what is illusory -- property and position: all that is gained at the expense of your nerves decade after decade and can be confiscated in one fell night. Live with a steady superiority over life -- don't be afraid of misfortune, and do not yearn after happiness; it is after all, all the same: the bitter doesn't last forever, and the sweet never fills the cup to overflowing". -- Alexander Solzhenitsyn.

I was sitting on the school bus with Ian, driving through Vancouver, and in the darkness he reached out to hold my hand. We sat in silence for a while, as Chinatown slid past the windows. I thought of how much joy he and his sisters have brought into my life, and how I wished I could stop the moment and just stay in it for a while. He said, "I'm glad you came with me, Mum". I thought about his mind, and how it slides away from my understanding now that he is getting older and doesn't share his every thought like he did when he was little. He had slyly pointed out the girl he likes, earlier in the day, and I noticed, in the dark, that she was sitting in the next seat. Does she watch him? I don't know. I'm glad I went with him, too.

off to school today, and then tomorrow I'm going with Ian's class to see the Anne Frank exhibit and ScienceWorld in Vancouver. 30 grade 5's, shudder.

I don't think I'll be getting the job I interviewed for yesterday. It was a decidedly antagonistic interview, conducted by a stone-faced woman. Fun fun fun.

comments, if you got 'em about what Chris Rock said, to kaiel(at)shaw.ca

another job interview, for next monday. A non-retail job! hope hope

Comedian Chris Rock has said, 'A man is only as faithful as his options'.

Oh, a very long five days. So hard to be the one at home.

I've been applying for work, but so far no bites. a couple of expressions of "interest in seeing my resume" which were followed by silence, one job interview followed by a phone call to ask for the phone numbers of my references, then after that silence too. I think that's the thing that sucks the most about applying for work, the fact that nobody actually ever calls you and says, "you don't have the job and here's why", there's just a vacuum.

Still struggling with a lot of emotion. And the same questions about responsibility for actions. Boundaries. Where do I end and others begin? So many of my current relationships, with the guys I know in prison, are one-sided. I know that in some ways, this is not ultimately helpful to them in reentering the outside world, to give them what they need and not ask for anything for myself. Some of them are very perceptive, and tell me things about myself that I hadn't known, but I try to be pretty upbeat with them, they have enough problems of their own without me sharing mine. Not that mine (I watched Casablanca last night) are worth a hill of beans in the face of a world full of trouble, but they seem pretty important to me. Perspective. All depends on where you stand.

I struggle to retain connection to my life. So far I'm succeeding. But we'll see.

Karen from AVP is in Bali, and is keeping a diary with fantastic pictures and stories.

M and I were trying to decide this morning how the dogs know it's 8am. I never let them outside before 8, because as soon as they go out they have to do a perimeter bark to scare off any birds/squirrels/raccoons that might be unwary enough to be in the yard. It's noisy with both of them running pell-mell and barking wildly, and I don't want to disturb the neighbours. But they seem to know that they won't be allowed out until 8, and if I don't go to open the patio door right at eight, they stand next to it and cough meaningfully. M thinks that they recognize the program change on CBC radio, the change in tone of the wrap-up talking and/or the little piece of music they play on the hour. I've always wondered if they listen to the radio, the dogs, and maybe that answers my question. The kids hear it, I know that. The other day I overheard Ian singing a little song that he had made up, to the tune of The Ride of the Valkyries... The kids also whistle the classical pieces M plays on his guitar, little echoes going on around the house.

Things I do with my time now.

Homework. Lots of it. Marxist criminology, correctional policy...
Make food. Pea soup with the Thanksgiving hambone, apple pie with apples from the tree outside...
Laundry. This in itself is almost a full-time job. I suspect Rachel of secretly being three people, she certainly wears enough clothes to qualify.
Work of the unpaid variety. Organizing a hotdog and popcorn thing to raise money for the crime prevention group, working at the community police station, helping at M's work.
Write letters. Lots of that, too.
Go to classes. Tuesdays at Simon Fraser, and for the next little while Saturdays and Wednesday evenings at Malaspina, for a counselling skills course.
Look for work. This is an exercise in not applying for retail jobs that I know I would probably get, and finding that I'm not really qualified yet for anything more interesting. Sigh.
Smoke... and hang out with M.
Naps.
Tai Chi. Which I am greatly enjoying, and I can do the beginner's set without someone prompting me; white stork spreads wings, present flowers...
Talk to the kids. And read to them. Play with them. Also the dogs. Although they don't talk back much.

In other words, at the moment I am blessed. I don't have to do anything I don't enjoy....

In the process of trying to get to the play at William Head, my car died, leaving me stranded by the side of the road. Since we don't want to put any more money into it, and a tow truck to come out of Nanaimo and tow it back would be expensive, we called a salvage yard and had it taken away. So no more car for me. I practiced this afternoon driving M's RAV, which is a standard, I haven't driven one since I crashed my own car, but it came back to me.

I enjoyed the Community Policing station. I'll have to answer the phone, which will be good for me to practice. I also have to call a list of shut-ins whose families have requested that someone check on them regularly.

I did end up taking on another volunteer thing. I'm training on Friday to work at the Community Police Station downtown. I've also been working at M's office, cleaning up their financials again. I always like working there, it's so quiet, I do paperwork and no-one interrupts me, in my own businesses where the necessary paperwork was accompanied by panic from customers, staff, suppliers... Or I could do it at home, with help from kids and dogs.

Long day today. Went to school, listened to Dr. Lowman's conspiracy theories...

Hey, Graeme, need some ideas for what to name your (hypothetical) future baby?

well, I'm smoking again. Yup, quit for 4 and a half years, started again in August. One thing I've noticed is that I have to take extras when I go to Vancouver. When I get off the bus downtown, I have taken to sitting in a little courtyard on the corner of Granville and having a cigarette. Inevitably, someone will come up to me and ask for a cigarette. Same on the ferry. So I take extra. I figure if I can have my little habit, so can the homeless folk. They always ask so diffidently, one the other day said, in greeting, "You're going to hate me", but I was already rummaging through my bag for the pack I had just put back in there, and his face brightened right away. They usually say, "Do you have an extra cigarette?" I always say, "I sure do," and give it to them with a big smile. Then I warn them, "they're kind of strong", and they never seem to mind. On Tuesday a young man who told me he was a heroin addict repaid me for the cigarette by doing his rap stuff for me. (Mind if I sit down and share a smoke with you? What kind of music do you like? I'm a rapper, wanna hear my stuff?) He told me his name was MC Vital, and although I'm sure I'm no judge of rap, it didn't sound too trite. Afterwards he said, "you have to applaud", so I did, laughing, and thanked him, and we shook hands. If I'm going to be panhandled, I may as well enjoy it. Was it good for you?

I have been somewhat lazy, since quitting work. I've been doing my schoolwork, and cleaning the house and rearranging the storage area in the basement, but I've also been hanging around in my pajamas and having naps in the afternoon. I saw one of my former employees today and she told me I looked relaxed. I certainly feel relaxed. The only fly in my ointment is a rather nasty email war between members of AVP, that they have seen fit to involve the rest of us in. I feel as if I have wandered into a minefield, and a misstep could bring a lot of grief. Fingers are being pointed, and blame tossed around, in a way that most definitely does not bring out the principles of non-violence. I begin to wonder if the volunteers are perhaps less together than the prisoners. I thoroughly enjoy the correspondence I get from the guys, their letters are great, but the volunteers are given to back-stabbing and advancing their personal agendas...

"We're wearing our red hats and yelling "yoohoo" a lot, because fall is great for birding, but it sucks to get shot" -- some Canadian comedy show I was watching at work

I took a book out of the library called "The Accountable Life". It was an interesting book, and I've lost it. So much for that.

I've been home most of the day, working on my resume, to send to a contact in the Government of Nunavut, and making dinner. Jehovah's Witnesses came to the door. Jazzy wanted to eat them, but I didn't let her.

Went to cancel my insurance on the business, and Glen, my insurance agent, asked me what was next. I said, no more businesses. He said, "The knife shop at Woodgrove is for sale". I told him I wasn't allowed to play with knives...

well, tomorrow is my last day at the lottery. I'm overwhelmed by the number of customers and mall employees who have expressed sadness at my leaving. Betty from the luggage store wants to have coffee with me on Wednesday mornings from now on, so I guess my feeling that we were becoming friends is correct. As always, I'm surprised that anyone wants to be my friend, but I'm happy anyway.

They lured me down to the mall on Sunday, Cindy and Liz my employees, Betty, and Eddie the security guard, to give me a card that they had secretly had a whole bunch of the customers sign. And a bunch of scratch and wins as a going-away present! One of my older admirers, Doug, who always wants to hold my hand, brought me a pink-iced heart-shaped biscuit. Which was actually very good, and I was hungry at the time as I'd forgotten to buy bananas so had no breakfast.

We signed up for Tai Chi on Sunday, and went to our first class yesterday. I feel very clumsy, but I found it oddly relaxing. It's a mixed bunch, the class, all shapes and sizes and ages, and lots of talking and laughing. I didn't concentrate as much as I could have, as I was watching M out of the corner of my eye. He seemed to be getting great joy out of it, and as I know he's waited a long time to start taking the classes it was fun to watch. I'm always confronted by my inability to reproduce movement that is made by someone facing me, poor spatial relations or something, I remember that from when I used to do aerobics in Edmonton.

Went to Vancouver yesterday, for my first class of the fall term. M came with me, and we went to the Vancouver Art Gallery. Art was a bit sparse, they were dismantling the first and second floors after exhibitions, but Emily Carr was on the fourth floor and some assorted BC pictures on the third. Enjoyed wandering around looking at them, despite the bag full of newly-purchased textbooks that would have been better left in the coatcheck. Emily Carr is best when she sticks to trees and doesn't try to render buildings. But her trees are such amazing colors, like essence of tree. We watched and discussed the changing sky from the ferry, to see how the edges corresponded to a painting M is currently working on. I'm very much liking being an observer in the process of his painting, it's making me want to do something creative of my own... (other than have babies)

I'm hesitating over taking on another volunteer thing. I had thought I might apply to either the Crisis Line or the Women's Assault line, both are currently looking for trainees. But I've registered for a counselling skills course up at Malaspina in October/November, I've got my SFU courses, Crimestoppers and AVP, and theoretically I should be looking for work. I begin to think I'll have a hard time finding a job if I can only work Monday mornings. I'm exaggerating, but you see what I mean. There are only so many hours in the day... (although, admittedly, more now since I've taken up smoking again)

Went to Perkins today, while M's car was having the engine light checked at the transmission place. (when we got back, the mechanic said, "I cut the wire to the fuse", and on the way home we asked each other whether he meant he had just cut the wire to the engine light and voila, solved the problem) Last time we were at Perkins, M asked for two vanilla lattes and they gave us sugar-free vanilla. Which I hate, I can't stand the taste of aspartame and it gives me a stomach ache. They are so stunned there, now, I want to ask them if I can go make my own latte, M said the shots today poured for 2 seconds. Should be 18-20 seconds... The woman working seemed perturbed that M was specifying NOT sugarfree vanilla for me, (he always speaks up for me) and that he questioned whether it was one shot, after watching her pour both the two second shots into my latte. She said, "yes, one shot". She gave me my latte for free today, but she was pretty abrupt about it. I want to say to them, when I go in there and it's All New Staff yet again, "look, I'm not trying to be difficult, but I ran this place for four years and you're not using that machine properly". Last time, also, Al, who we sold the shop to, was there, and he asked me what one of the nozzles on the cappuccino machine was for. I showed him which button ran it, and told him it was for hot water for Americanos. Don't know how they've been managing to make Americanos, if they didn't know that. For crying out loud, it's a $20,000 cappuccino machine, you owe it to yourself to learn how to operate it.

School will be starting again soon for everyone. I think M is going to come with me on the first day, to Simon Fraser, so that we can go for lunch and hit the art gallery downtown Vancouver. Kids are either nervous (Kirsten), unconcerned (Ian), or excited (Rachel). Ian had hoped to skip grade five, but it seems he won't be doing that.

I was standing at work watching the Olympics, and I happened to mention to one of the customers that I didn't understand synchronized swimming. I told him it looked to me like cheerleading underwater. He agreed, and said that he was marvelling at the number of bizarre things being called sport in this Olympics, and that he was waiting eagerly for hide-and-seek to be added, because he felt he could definitely qualify.

Rachel has tried to make easymac in the microwave without adding water, and the resulting smell is on a par with burnt gymshorts.

All is underway for the exodus from BC lotteries. All staff have been informed, nobody was very surprised, and in fact Nicole and Ron are interviewing to take over the booth. Nicole has worked for me on and off for about a year and a half, she used to be maintenance at the other mall I was at and she and I would gab while she was supposed to be cleaning. If they get it, I would like that, as training Ron would be fun and also Nicole already knows the whole score.

Musing a lot recently on consequences of actions. If someone else is hurt by my actions, what is my responsibility? I sense it's a multi-variant question, like those terrible calculus things that change as you go along. Life being a dialectic, each action creates both backward and forward ripples. Hard to remain centered, right now.

Poetry about Paul Simon... two of my favorite things combined.

I will no longer have to sell lottery tickets. I haven't a clue what will happen next, in more ways than one, but I will no longer have to make sixpacks and doubledips for rude customers. Random snippets of passing conversations and the everlasting muzak will no longer be the backdrop to my days. I will be able to sustain a thought, and not be told I'm "daydreaming" by intruders to my reverie. Conversations will no longer start with "I know I've got a ticket in here somewhere..." or "Gimme...". Perhaps the people I greet in my everyday life will respond, rather than just standing mutely while I process their tickets.

On the other hand, I will no longer have funny stories to tell, and not nearly so much to complain about.

I quit my job. Called the lottery and said, I'm resigning. Feels wonderful. I'm taking two classes in September, two more after Christmas, and my PBD will be done. Don't know what I'll do next, but it will not involve the public. I'll save cardboard boxes and live under a bridge, but I'm done with retail. I'm almost 37 and I still have a job where I wear a nametag...

Nice camping trip. Sat on the beach a lot, had some existential moments in the middle of the night, thought about the future. It was cooler than at home, as it always is on the west coast, and we enjoyed being able to stop sweating so much. Went out for dinner with mum and dad tonight, drank beer and smoked Mum's cigarettes. Much to Dad's disgust.

A boy called Kirsten tonight at dinner and asked her to go to a movie.  When Ian was told the identity of the boy, he said, "But Justin's not smart and he never takes his coat off".  Kirsten replied, "That's not true anymore".  I said, "He got smart?"  She said, "No, he takes his coat off now".

Rachel has gone to the river with Montana and Olivia.  Ian and Joey are watching videos.  Kirsten and Caitlin have gone to the movies.  At 4:45 I have to fetch Kirsten and Caitlin from the movies, and at 5:20 I have to fetch Llewellyn from the sea-plane terminal.  Then Caitlin and Joey are going to their grandparents at 6:15, Rachel's coming back from Montana's at 6:30, and the four of us who live here, and Llewellyn, are going to the fireworks.  Afterwards, Rachel is sleeping over at Montana and Olivia's, and Llewellyn's sleeping over here.  Then I have to be at work by 10 tomorrow morning so I'll have to retrieve Rachel and return Llewellyn.  Clear?  Yup, I feel the same way.

I'm writing my euthanasia paper.  Not all that difficult, actually, which may be a bad thing...  however, in the spirit of procrastination, this is interesting on the dynamics of internet groups.

It's good to be home for the day.  Ian just came to show me he has hacked Kirsten's Furby, to make it burp uncontrollably.

The other day I came home to a message informing me that I am still under consideration for the Residential Schools research job... to my surprise, as the deadline had come and gone. I am still trying not to think too hard about it, but I find myself at odd moments thinking, mmmm work from home, no customers, no lottery tickets...

M is in Connecticut and New York until the 26th. He managed to get to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and spent an evening there. I wish I could have gone with him.

My eyes haven't been hurting as much lately. I have even been driving a bit, with very dark sunglasses that I bought from Zellers for 5 bucks.

It looks as if I might have a day off today. I've been working a lot since Cindy broke her foot, which is ok as sales are really down right now and I can't afford to pay so much labour.

I got a call from the family, this afternoon. Apparently the car refused to start outside West Edmonton Mall.

Other than the teenagers in my cherry tree at 2 am (this I think is karma and I should just bow to the universe for things I did in Vulcan as a teenager) and the neighbour's dog getting a cat cornered in my yard at 5 am, I seem to be ok by myself at the moment. A bit lonely, I'm reading a lot and doing a lot of schoolwork, trying to fill my head with words. Took mum and dad out for dinner for their respective birthdays which are both coming up, had a good time, all in all.

When we were first married, in 1988, we came out from Alberta to Vancouver Island for an immensely rainy honeymoon. My abiding memory is of renting a car and driving to Qualicum Beach from Victoria to the accompaniment of the windshield wipers and CBC Stereo. He loves rain, so we decided that our first definitive act as a married couple would be to drop everything and move out here. He dropped out of university, I rounded up enough courses to complete a three year degree, we quit our gas station jobs. We stuffed everything we owned into his truck and my car, including my cat, and headed out for a trailer park just outside of Nanaimo.
The trailer was a hand-me-down, given perhaps somewhat reluctantly by his parents. His father had gutted the inside of it to make a painting studio, and it smelled of oil paint and cigarette smoke. The people who were moving it for us showed up on Friday morning and hooked it up to a semi trailer. We were on our way. I loaded the cat, Mao, a black sleek tom with an attitude the size of China, he loaded his guitar and the go board, we set off. Three minutes down the road from Alberta Beach, Mao took a huge dump in the litter box I had thoughtfully provided in the back seat. I stopped for an air freshener.
I drove through the mountains, happily listening to Journey and Boston on the tape player and singing along. It is mostly downhill from Blue River to Vancouver, and I coasted. Mao was not ideal company. He complained in a dying cat voice, panted a lot like he was dehydrating, and kept insisting on being either on my lap or underneath the gas pedal. Finally I reached the outskirts of Vancouver, two packs of cigarettes and numerous tapes later.
It began to be warm. It was April and I had left some snow in Alberta. The sun was shining in Vancouver and I decided it was time to lose my sweater. I rolled down the window a bit. Eventually I stopped at a stoplight and began to take off my sweater. At just that moment, Mao decided to make a break for it. Just as I rolled my sweater up to my shoulders, he leapt up and tried to squish himself through the window. At the same moment, I realized I had also pulled up my t-shirt and was sitting with my sweater and shirt around my head, trying, clad mostly in my bra, to stop the cat from going out the window, and the light was changing. In one of those bizarre convergences, everyone stopped around me was looking at me while I struggled with sweater, shirt, cat, and window, and no-one seemed to care that the light had changed…

Well, they've all gone off to Alberta. Except the dogs. I've made coffee, and am settling down to my violence paper, which is due on Thursday. Ack. I went to Victoria last weekend for AVP, so no writing got done, but it was a good workshop. One of the men had gone up for a faint hope hearing and he told us all about it. He was unsuccessful in gaining early parole, but he felt that the experience was good for all involved. At the end of the two week hearing, the family of the woman he killed came up and hugged him and cried and told him they were sorry he had to stay in prison...

Can't sleep. My right hand has gone past the non-working stage into the swelling up stage. As usual when it's acting up I spent the day throwing money at people. Everything is of course exacerbated by the fact that it's damn hot. But the Globe and Mail printed my letter, so right now I don't care. I'll just stay up all night and surf...

woohoo -- my name in print

Dear kate,
Here is your horoscope
for Tuesday, June 22:

The universe steps in and bails you out. The rest of the month suddenly looks much better. Now you can concentrate on better things, like having some summer fun.

Ok, I'm still waiting. Get on with it, universe. As in, any time right about now would be good, for the bailing out. Cindy, one of my three employees, has broken her foot so I ended up at work today on my day off...

In my email inbox: "cough syrup ruffians". What do they do, scream themselves hoarse?

I enjoyed this today, on how prisoners can now vote.

And it's Sunday. Rachel wants to go see the Garfield movie. She's a big fan. All the high tech stuff in today's world, and she loves the scruffy books I had when I was a kid. Most of them are missing covers, but she's got them all in her room and she's always coming to quote me something.

Whatever happens, from hereon in, one thing will remain the same. Madonna will always be ten years older than me...

I handed in the drug policy paper. Now it's violence. Thank-you to all who sent me ideas, I appreciate it.

I feel a bit better, mentally. I seem to have managed to get the delusions/obsessions under control. Or they're controlling me and I've become comfortable with it, it's hard to know which.

When Reagan died, I was standing at work watching the news coverage on the tvs at the Telus store, and one of my customers, a man who drives his wife to work at one of the stores in the mall, came up. We had the following conversation.

Customer: So, Reagan's still dead.
Me: Still dead?
Customer: Yup, I've always said he died in that assassination attempt, and they replaced him with an actor.
Me: There's a name for that sort of theory, you know. Impostor something-or-other. It goes along with thinking that people have been replaced by aliens.
Customer: I can't talk about that with you. You're probably an alien. Why did they raise the prices on the lottery?
Me: I don't know. It's a conspiracy.
Customer: Damn aliens, they're everywhere.

I don't know why, but "tigger is gay" on this list made me laugh quite a lot. I know, I'm procrastinating.

Here we go. Summer has arrived, it seems, kids are playing with water balloons and my garden's growing nicely. Trying a different kind of lettuce this year, a red variety, and green beans instead of yellow. Had a couple of good weeks of rain.

Almost finished the harm reduction paper, it just needs a concluding paragraph. Which is good, because it's due tomorrow. Then I've got two more for this term. One on violence and one on euthanasia. I'm supposed to discuss whether I think society is more violent than it was in the 1950's. Not sure why they picked that decade, but oh well. If anyone has any thoughts, please share them with me...

green. what do you think?

my dog

like I need more dogs. M's boss (the poster child for financial mismanagement) has left his dog here while he's in Calgary. It's a cute dog but my own are nervous, and it's pretty much walltowall dog this weekend. they all seem to be shedding.

I'm procrastinating, as usual, the harm reduction paper needs about 500 more words. luckily I still have plenty to say, which is amazing considering I didn't think I cared very much. but harm reduction seems nicely realistic.

The cemetery plot people have disappeared.

things are getting a bit weird here. in case you haven't noticed. I'm obsessing about outkast and my concentration is shot. I'm contemplating giving up all my worldly possessions and becoming a bag lady. I have a nice bag, that M brought me back from a conference he went to recently, and I've been filling it with stuff.

kate is
kate is available for instant download
kate is not your average super model
kate is the rock of the division
kate is actively involved in other organisations
kate is nevertheless considered beautiful by many
kate is a
from googlism

"We are, each of us, finite beings in a universe which, so far as we can know, is infinite. Whether the universe had a beginning and an end we are not sure - but we are certain we had a beginning and we all know we will have an end. There is a limit to the time during which we can learn things - and there are far too many things to learn for any of us ever to be sure we are an authority except - at best - in small and limited ways."

from here

mighty fine only got you somewhere half the time / and the other half either got you / cussed out or coming up short (outkast!)

some woman came and set up a table across from me at the mall today to sell cemetery plots. it's a sign. I really am dead.

Rachel's going to Brownie camp this weekend. She's trying to persuade me to let her take a very large and very dirty white (well, grey and gritty) stuffed rabbit as her pillow. I'm holding out. I notice, however, that she's tried to stuff Bunny into her luggage...

I HATE my job. I spend a fair bit of time at work fantasizing my resignation letter. I also find myself looking in the obituaries for my most dreaded customers' names to see if they've died of apoplexy brought on by terminal stupidity. The lottery is making me despise humankind. I want to be a hermit.

I'm fighting a delusion, at the moment. I keep having these moments where I'm suddenly convinced that I'm actually dead, and that that explains a lot of things. Probably just stress. Or, maybe I am dead. That would explain the lottery : I'm in hell.

My future bonsai trees are still alive! Miraculously, I have not killed them.

I thoroughly hate selling lottery tickets. Things have gotten ugly over the last few weeks, with the ticket checkers not working and also the price going up yesterday, I have been sworn at rather more than I like. Today a sweet little old lady told me I could "kiss her butt" when I told her that the 6/49 had gone up to two dollars a ticket. I had no idea how to respond to that, so I just stood there and stared at her...

I'm procrastinating again. I'm still working on the endless obscenity paper. Unfortunately I don't feel particularly strongly about the whole issue, and that makes it hard to write the paper. Well, actually, it's written, I'm just doing the usual obsessive editing.

Once this is done I have to start on harm reduction in drug policy, and I can't say as how I'm passionate about that either. Oh well.

I got a book on growing bonsai trees, and I have three little pine tree seedlings that I'm coddling in my kitchen window. (That sounds good, until I tell you I've killed eight already...)

One of my friends from the AVP, a prisoner, got into a fight with some guards at William Head, and they transferred him to Mission. After some deliberation, I sent him a card, and got a five page letter in response.

Long pause. I've been away a lot, in Kamloops and then last weekend in Victoria for the AVP again. I did the facilitator training, and caused some trouble by playing a porn star in a roleplaying exercise. Not my idea, I suppose I should clarify. But a very surreal experience.

I spoke yesterday to the woman in charge of AVP for the Fraser Valley, and she invited me to go and facilitate at Ferndale (minimum security in Mission) any time I wanted, which is interesting.
The job I applied for, doing research for the alternative dispute resolution people, is still a possibility. The deadline for the government to make their decisions has been pushed to June 30, so maybe by the summer I'll be doing something more interesting. I still try not to think about it too much, however.

It's obscenity law, this week. The paper I'm writing, I mean. Dad says he knows lots of obscenities, if I run short.

Went for dinner at Mum and Dad's on the weekend. Mum was drunk when we got there, and it went downhill from there. I don't want to see her any more. She's never sober, and I can't predict whether she'll be lovey or mean...

On Thursday this week I'm off to Kamloops, to the Crimestoppers conference. I'm looking forward to the main speaker, I've seen him on tv and he's very powerful. The weekend after that I'm back to Victoria to do the facilitator training for the Alternatives to Violence Project. I'm looking forward to that too, although it will be a lot more work than the conference and won't involve any drinking.

I got an A+ for the electroshock paper, and some very nice comments. He said my writing style was "highly developed" which is good to hear. There's hope yet :)

happy easter...

I've eaten too much chocolate, and am anxious beyond belief. I was doing ok until my momma-in-law gave me a white chocolate bunny...

Electroboy rules.

I'm working on a paper, sitting on my bed with all my notes on mental patients and autonomy (hence the quote in the title bar here) spread out all around me, books open to specific pages, two or three drafts with red pen scribblings on them, photocopied journal articles, all arranged. Jazz comes in, jumps up on the bed, roots through all of it with her nose, makes herself a space right in the middle and settles down to nap.

Rented The House of Sand and Fog last night. I adore Ben Kingsley. He was just as good as in Sexy Beast, but completely different again. I don't know who any of the others were in the movie, but it doesn't really matter, it was his movie.

got brand new lottery machines at work today, very cool, touchscreens like little laptops, with superfast laser thermal printers. bc lotteries joins the 21st century. unfortunately today being Saturday, it was a massive pain to have the technician there fumbling about and turning off the Keno board while the little old men were trying to play. then when he turned the Keno board back on, it wasn't giving new draws, it was just rerunning old draws, so the little men kept thinking they had won and they hadn't.

and I canvassed for the kidney foundation, something I had been putting off. Made 27 dollars and nobody swore at me, pretty good.

Ian wants to know what happened to Oldfoundland... why did they need a new one?

Saw whales from the ferry yesterday. Orcas.

I'm tired.

At Kirsten's band concert on Thursday night, I met the boy she is currently chasing. He looks like a blonde Ashton Kutcher, very cute. He actually called to Kirsten from down the hallway as we were leaving, to introduce her to his mom. Kirsten's so sarcastic and just generally larger than life, I contrast how I was at that age and I feel very unworldly. She's got more self-confidence right now than I had at 22. I swear. In this I think she definitely takes after her father.

Rachel's report card said that she "demonstrates empathy" towards the kids in her class. Ian's report card praised his imagination, and Kirsten's mentioned her volunteer work in the school, she likes to help with the kindergarten kids, and she's in demand as a sorter of hot lunch orders. I commented on these things to them, and told Kirsten that it didn't matter a bit that she got a C in Personal Planning, whatever the hell that is. She comes home with marks that she's agonizing about, last term she got a B in Language Arts and expected me to be furious and I pretty much said, "Who cares, you read a lot". When she got her course selections for next year (she's going to high school, believe it or not) she told me she was signing up for basic English, and I said, "Whatever you want". I wondered why she wasn't trying for Honours English, but I figured if I said anything she'd go back to school saying "My mom's MAKING me take Honours English" and I didn't want that. Just before the form was due to be handed in, she came up behind me while I was packing my lunch and said, "I talked to Mrs. Hammond and she says I can try for Honours English", and I said, "Sounds good to me."

I'm writing my paper on electroshock therapy. Informed consent issues and such. I registered for one more class yesterday, for the summer term. I'm contemplating adding another, but since I had such a hell of a time last summer doing the work while it was hot, I think maybe I'll just leave it at one. After that I'll have four courses left.

curious?

I have applied for a job doing research for the government. And passed the first round of interviews, locally. Second round is upcoming, and will be done by people from Ottawa. The research is centred around the residential school issues that the government wants to resolve with alternative dispute resolution mechanisms, since there is a backlog of 10,000 cases.

I'm hopeful, as I fulfill all the criteria (thanks in part to the First Nations Studies course I waded through in my first semester and the law courses I took) and I've even got an English degree. It would be funny if it actually did me some good now!

Only problem is, if I think too hard about this, I don't want to go and sell another lottery ticket EVER. So, I am not thinking about it. (believe me? I thought not.)

The ex-secretary of Crimestoppers emailed me today to say congratulations. One less confrontation to worry about. My mother came and stayed the day today as M is in Victoria for the Species at Risk conference and I had to go to class. She frightened the children, as usual. When I got home Kirsten said, "Grannie made my BED." Rachel, while I was cooking supper, asked me, "Why does Grannie worry so much? I told her she's a worrier."

Well. The Crimestoppers fundraiser went very well, even though the two weeks surrounding it were hell. Some sneaky politics find me elected secretary for the coming year, supporting a really nice executive composed of the people who did all the work last year... sometimes there is justice. Apparently I wasn't the only one who hated the old secretary, everyone else was just too scared of her to do anything about it. M commented today that perhaps James should just call me every hour on the hour as a matter of principle.

My course is going well, I actually got a good mark for my presentation and the accompanying paper, and some of the nicest comments I've ever received on a paper.

Next weekend I'm going back to prison, and Ryan Vestby's band is coming to the Cambie hotel to play (wish you were here, Graeme...) and I'll have to miss it. Hopefully he will get into town before I have to leave for Victoria, as I haven't seen him since we lived in Field and he came out to stay. Ian answered the phone when he called last week, and when Ian passed me the phone Ryan said, "You got some huge kids there, Kate." If I think about it, Ian was about 3 or 4 last time we saw Ryan.

I'm still somewhat dazed. I find it hard to believe on some levels that I have become involved with the Alternatives to Violence Project. It came about so fast, I'm not used to my offers of help being accepted. I've been mulling over all the things that happened this last weekend. Some people told me some things that were very painful. I expressed my feeling of being drained to one of them, and he said, "it's disclosure, it always leaves you tired." Graeme used the same word when I was telling him some of what went on.

It's not in the realm of the everyday, for me, to hear so much about violence.

Long week. I was tired from the weekend in prison (go ahead, make your conjugal visit jokes, I've heard 'em all). Thankfully someone had won the SuperSeven, so it was pretty quiet at work. We're gearing up for the fundraiser for Crimestoppers, which means lots of work upcoming this week.

Kirsten has broken up with her first boyfriend, and is chasing another boy... the fun begins.

Rachel's Brownie troop has a new owl. A new leader, that is, and they're called owls, and they get little names, like Brown Owl, Ruby Owl, Sunshine Owl, etc. Rachel came home and said she was supposed to think of a name for said owl. Miguel said, Skanky Owl and Kirsten thought that was pretty funny, but Rachel misheard and said, no, not Stinky cos she didn't smell. Kirsten came by later when I was working on my paper and said, "How about Obsessive-Compulsive Owl?"

whoof. Nobody's won the superseven yet, so it continues to be freaking busy. I think my arm may fall off from pressing buttons.

I went yesterday and delivered my in-class presentation on fractals and mental disorder. I've come up with a new strategy for this. I pretended there was no-one in the room except Dr. Menzies and Gerald (who was in one of my classes last term). I even addressed remarks to each of them, as Gerald had given his presentation just before mine, and he said something I wanted to pick up on. I even had overheads. And Dr. Menzies liked my charts. So I think it'll all be ok.

I'm going back to the prison this weekend. I'm not so nervous about that this time, as I know the drill. I hate the bit where the doors clang shut behind me. Especially if I'm on my own, as you have to wait in a little cage for someone to come with the van and pick you up. The workshop this weekend is more advanced, I'm looking forward to it.

just because

nice weekend... finally got Patricia Cornwell's book on Jack the Ripper from the library. I don't entirely agree with her conclusions, I don't think any of it would stand up in court, but it was interesting all the same. Inbetween that, Ian had a birthday party to attend, Kirsten's friend Caitlin slept over and they watched Freddy vs. Jason. I watched for a while, but I was trying to complete notes for an in-class presentation I have to give on Feb 3rd, so I drifted in and out. We wondered, however, as both Freddy and Jason are supposed to be unkillable, why they would bother to have a classic battle in a boiler room.

So tonight I'm working on my presentation, which has to do with fractals and mental disorder. Other than that I have one paper and a final exam for this course, so it feels as if I have extra time suddenly. Very cool.

trying to overcome the paralysis brought on by having too many things to do. I dispatched a fair number of them this morning,
miscellaneous banking and postal errands,
library fines,
more crepe paper for the never-ending flowers,
a visit to Robyn as the word is that everyone feels that I've "dropped off the face of the earth", a quote for a balloon palm tree for Mexican night (he suggested a balloon cactus, lit from within),
a trip to the shop that sells the only soap I like; Bee and Flower sandalwood soap,
emails to the hotel that is accomodating the band for Mexican night...

The library also yielded a book of pictures of the life of Gandhi and a book about addictions that I might be able to use in a paper I have to write soon. Other than that, I just have the year end books for the booth to do, I think I mentioned that my accountant wants that done soon. So, tonight I will deal with all the piles. I told him I was at the piles stage, everything was organized but not compiled yet. This is also one way I force myself to get going on it, the visual lack of aesthetics of a collection of papers in the corner of the living room. I'm the only one who spends any time here, though, so it's only bugging me. Leaving it too long also means I run the risk of having the dogs plough through it on their way to bark at cats or forage for treats.

Oh, my. Where to start. Spent the weekend in prison talking about violence, playing with tinkertoy, making paper monsters, playing basketball, walking by the sea, eating too many cookies, hearing stories... I'm still processing.

The Alternatives to Violence project is not as it seems. There is much talking, no preaching. Also a lot of goofy exercises, meant to show interconnectedness and build community. I met some people with a lot of pain in their lives, their own pain and that they have caused in others. We did role-playing. I listened a lot. Something about the process invites a sort of suspension of the fear of feeling silly, and there were some extremely silly moments. And some funny ones. One of the prisoners was telling me that he was reading about Gandhi, and I asked him if he'd ever seen the Ben Kingsley movie. He said no, and I said, offhand, "It's kind of long". He giggled and replied, "I've got lots of time."

On Saturday, I was in the hallway talking to one of the prisoners, and he introduced me to a man not participating in the program. We shook hands., and he proceeded to tell me about his children and grandchild, and how he was looking forward to someday seeing them again... He told me his application for little trips out had been approved. I told him that was wonderful, and he left. The next afternoon, during one of the breaks in the program, I suddenly felt I was being watched. I turned around and saw that he had returned, and as I caught his eye he gave me a big grin and gestured for me to come talk to him. I was quite touched to find that he had brought pictures of his children and his grandson to show me...

I'll be going back in February.

I rented and watched the movie Magnolia this weekend. The rain of frogs therein came as a surprise (I don't get out much) and considering how much I liked the movie, I think it's interesting that it coincides with the title of this venue.

It is snowing here. Yesterday I got all the way to Burnaby before they announced that SFU was closed, about 10 am. So, I turned around and came home again. Since the skytrain was abysmally slow due to the "extreme snow conditions" (ya gotta love Vancouver, they had barely a half inch) it took me 9 hours to do the round trip, and I never even made it to campus. I was boarding the last bus, ten minutes away from the school, and the bus driver told us that the school was closing and that if we stayed on the bus and went up to SFU they couldn't guarantee that the buses would still be running to bring us back down.

We have a fair amount of snow here in Nanaimo, about two feet fell in all, and it's piled up all over the place like Edmonton (although not as much as Lake Louise) the mall was open today but hardly anyone came.

I'm going to be in Victoria this weekend, at William Head Institution (minimum security) as a volunteer for an Alternatives to Violence workshop. I think I mentioned I was there before Christmas for a Restorative Justice symposium. The only thing I'm nervous about is the bit where I have to go in by myself and give up all my valuables, etc. I've met a few of the people I'll be working with and they seem very kind.

On New Year's Day we pooled all our money and went skiing. Which was awesome, as always. Ian proved his usual daredevil self, falling off the chairlift, crashing into the platter lift building, having a spectacular charliebrown style wipeout and losing skis, coat, mitts, scarf, poles etc. I met him halfway downhill after this particular one, and he was carrying all his equipment and looking very vacant. He claimed to be walking back to the top. Kirsten whined a lot. She's gained some weight, due to her eating habits and her general fitness level being low. Rachel we left at my mother's. She's still a bit mad at me for this, as my mother organized the life out of her for the day...

Today I managed a rare day off. So, at 6 pm, I am still sitting in my pajamas, drinking the sherry my mother left at Christmas and listening to The Police, with the dogs. The others have all gone to gramma's.