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Teachers Return of Fern

Ferdinand is back home! With two nice ladies who not only saw him but who, in addition, have helped us catch him!

I believe in humanity!

Photo of Ferdinand and myself in 2008:


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In headlong

There are people who spend all their free time surrounded by a multitude of individuals. I am not one of those. Although I cherish more than any intimate moments shared with my beloved, I love seeing people, we understand. Simply see a lot of people wonder energy, for reasons that are familiar to me and others who are unknown to me. I feel some anxiety when it comes time to find myself in a larger group, indeed. But beyond that, I think I'm affected more intensely by the people it is reasonable to be, affected by both their own e ; motions and I feel for them. A drama teacher told me several years ago as part of group exercises we were doing in class, I was a resonates is to say that I picked up and took me on all the energies and emotions around me. At first, I was perplexed, I was not sure if it was a compliment or a criticism - it was more likely a simple observation. Today, I take as a compliment, however, since the work of the writer is one of resonance. The writer must capture the world around it and return it in her writing. It seems to me that this is a gift I received, to have such a relationship to the world. Every donation against his party, of course. For one who receives the world with such impact force, contact with others is exhausting. Fortunately, I think I have a lot of energy in reserve ... I'm still enough space for my meetings do not run.

Perhaps for this reason, maybe because I'm still wild, perhaps by ; cowardice, perhaps out of laziness - or I still know that - I do not see enough people who are dear to me. During these encounters with loved ones, the same question appears: why, why do not I see this person more often? Maybe for his own salvation. I think I lost sight more friends because I exhausted ... The fact remains that not only do I not see enough loved ones, not only do I tend to refer constantly meeting people who I feel I could build a beautiful relationship but, in addition, I put a lot of time for answer my emails or to post those that I plan to write. Amelia had even written at the very beginning of our relationship, when we had barely acquainted, I took this time to answer him she had to Read up my blog to hear from me since I wrote much more smoothly on my blog that I wrote him to her. True enough. I could write a number of tickets before answering to one of her emails, not because I wanted there not, perhaps for the opposite reason, because my expectations were even higher in relation to it they were not compared to my blog. This is not because a letter has only one recipient does not need it as seriously as a text for an audience more or less extensive. For me, perhaps even the contrary ...

When I woke up this morning, I told myself that this time was too long and that I should write these emails that I wanted to write for a few days. So I embarked on this major undertaking. At sunrise, before lunch and drink coffee, so I started writing some of these emails. In the first of them, I sent to the beautiful and extraordinary veelan that, for your great loss to all, written exclusively for attention privileged few, I just share it with this reflection, tinged with disappointment to me and guilt toward others, for which I am so much involved. She said this wonderful thing that I can not remember to call, hoping that she will not mind, since it's just too good and it should be immortalized, even in this precarious form of the blog:

I never felt rushed to friendship: from the moment I like a friendly person, I know the feeling is permanent [...]. If I love you, forever, so I do not care do not see as often as he should.

I'd never thought so but I feel exactly like that in relation to friendship ...

Still, despite this sense of eternity authentic - because I love my friends forever actually - and unrealistic - since I do not know when death will carry one of the things that I are expensive, I will try to continue fighting against the permanent temptation of isolation. I will try this afternoon to write at least one of these letters are long overdue.

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The best sandwich in the world

long ago that I wanted to tell the story of the best sandwich in the world. So here it is.

nearly 2 years ago, two or three weeks about, I was summoned to an interview at a college in a few hours drive from Montreal. I had just finished the writing my memory, very long and painful process, for reasons so little intrinsic truth, a process that was completed by one year nightmare several respects, and that concludes that several months after the filing of my memory. When the announcement came that interview, so I was torn between the feeling that it was too, until I could not miss this occasion and the feeling that I was so exhausted and so little ready to get away from my beloved yet it was impossible.

Driven by a sense of duty, I decided that I could not miss this opportunity and I embarked with Amelia in a car a few days later, with some luggage and books and a glaze re that we had bought for the occasion, filled with food prepared by my loving devotion. So the both excited by this adventure (it was our first road trip !), anxious and heart a little heavy - as if I were with my love, I left behind yet ; re someone dear to me already - we took the road north. While running, I reread the beating heart Next Episode which was to focus on the lesson I was preparing for this interview.

Our first stop was in a small inn, about midway in the corner of Mont-Laurier. It was in the middle of the woods, we had to take a dirt road to get there. We we lost along the way and called him, desperate at the hostel. After a few detours, we finally found our hostel. It was late and it was already very dark when we saw almost nothing of the place but when we entered our room I was amazed rustic-style . And also tortured because it was a perfect place to stay in love but I was already so exhausted by the road I saw how hard I re ussirais to continue to prepare for my interview tomorrow. Since he had yet, I climbed the ladder that led me to the mezzanine and settle there for work while Amelie slept and slept in our bed because so cute lead for several hours the next morning.

the middle of the night I collapsed, exhausted physically and morally. I would never be able to be ready, I decided at that time, wrongly and rightly, of course. I descended the ladder and joined Amelie in bed in tears, telling him that I would not go to the interview that I was incapable, I would never be ready, I was too tired. Convinced that I was seized by a moment of doubt, my beloved tells me that it no sense, I'd obviously ready, as I could, I'd done it thousands of times working far beyond my strength. I was reluctant, she began to gripe against me, convinced I was doing a scene and willing to pull myself together. I cried more than ever to prove my complete collapse. I realized that my love is truly exhausted, that I lacked confidence not just suddenly and she hugged me until I calmed down, then I say it would seek some thing in the car to prepare a snack. It was about three o'clock in the morning. Amelia returned with sandwiches she had prepared over the cooler. She had concocted with the nine grain bread from our bakery, ham, Boursin and arugula. We ate our sandwiches in our charming bed, wrapped in pink bedspread kitschy and charming at once. I was suddenly so well after this collapse. Not only my sandwich was really the most delicious I had eaten, he was the symbol of all the love and devotion of all my Amelia, capable of both love the hardest and love the most tender.

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On the way back

Today as I walked from work to home, I decided not to listen to my music for quite a long hike. I did well.

*****

Made somewhere in the Village on Ste-Catherine, I heard a gay man recently became single share his feelings a friend on his cell:

"Oh, I am there! So good! I'm good! I do what I want with my time. I am accountable to anyone! "

Oh, is not it, that's the definition of happiness: having accountable to anyone. I have no one to worry that nobody cares about me, it will Calisse, everyone is happy! Wow!

The guy had that tone that means but it sure feels first and foremost motivated by a desire to convince - Not the speaker, of course, but himself. This tone tells everyone: look pathetic as trying to convince me! There was nothing authentic bachelor who, in turn, would never dream of it screaming in the street, who would be satisfied to such an extent that no thinking about it even. It was not the man he hoped to be, obviously.

I should dock type, at the pace the rest very nice, and he started: "Who do you wrong? "I decided to keep my thoughts to myself.



***** A little later, while I was crossing the overpass above the train station, I Cross another type, who also spoke on his cell: "Then there I told him: 'You, there, Fuck!" He added, as a commentary on his narrative "of Ostia tabarnac! "

At that point, I should respond to express my sympathy to his story: "Criss Fuck! "I also kept my thoughts to myself.

*****

The first guy I had crossed was so convinced of the omnipotence of language that was enough, would have said, he utters these words to it feels really good. The second type was so convinced of the impotence of language than he seemed not even need to use words.

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Over the Rainbow

few days ago, I gave myself up to nostalgia and regret inflection of voice that clearly fell silent. I am no less melancholy than the other day, I am perhaps even more, but it will go this time instead of a surge of joy!

I share my happiness, which many already share: read Patty O'Green !

Never have I read blog if perpetually charged! And colored (in every sense, of course)! And sensitive! Brilliant! Patty O'Green is one of my greatest joys on the net.

In one of his wonderful piece, my favorite Patty spoke of the happiness she felt great to cross lakes, no matter which, by swimming. It's like that! She did not faint of heart. Patty did all the intrepid comes into his head. Patty is the friend that I needed to have both when I was a young girl when I was this shy girl overprotected. Better late than never! I read it hoping to be contaminated by it.

One of the reasons why I love so much is that this text represents an opposition so perfect between Patty and me and it touches a very sensitive chord in me. When I was a kid I spent every day of summer hours in our above ground pool. One day when I was a teenager, I decided to put myself doing laps ... or should I say curves! I walked the circumference of our pool for 45 to 60 minutes, without worrying that a 18 foot above ground pool is not the best place to swim. I swam, looking at the trees behind the yard of my parents - the trees that lived in this small wooded area that I loved so much and now disappeared, giving way to houses of this new development ridiculously ugly and ridiculously expensive. I looked, I said, trees, dreaming that I was in a lake and strength to swim, I forgot where I was. In my head, I was so absorbed by the thought that it was to me as if I was there. I thought these people that I had heard that crossed long lake to swim and I told myself that someday I would do it too.

I have not yet crossed lakes. That's the difference between me and Patty Patty drunk through the lakes of the powerful sensation of be in a lake, it captures the reality head on, while that I continue to dream at all possible, dozing on the banks of the imagination.

still be able to finally admit that I dream about all the possibilities is not satisfactory and I feel myself a violent need to immerse myself in reality. I say this, but I know well and long, I'm faced with this sudden desire, this desire of matter. However, I oscillate between these two desires, without being able to satisfy neither the one nor the other. Like when I'm swimming in my imagination, I have come to need material, even when I enter the field with both hands I need my imagination to arrive at well feel what I saw. Too much material as it is not enough. In the immediate future, I feel nothing, I am dazzled. I need a remote for good living things.

Still, I am due to try to cross a lake! It is further necessary to learn to swim decently. I tried to take a swimming class last fall but I am loosely discouraged. I long to have to do lots of silly exercises before coming to swim properly and I could not afford to accelerate. My patience was not sufficient to compensate for my incompetence and I was feeling sorry and asked me: oh but why have I not earned swimming technique when I was very young? Now I know how to swim! Etc etc! But I'm learning to deal with my shortcomings, accept to run out of tips to make progress. That's how I finally bring myself to read English, overriding frustration of not understanding every word and accepting the impossibility to find each unknown word in the dictionary. Similarly, rather than discourage me and get back to my swimming technique bastard, I should devote myself to accept these laborious exercises which follow I will be able to learn to swim slowly.

Besides, I have a new goal! During one of my swimming lesson, I donned flippers and I was totally excited! I never expected to go so fast a distance from the water. Since I no longer dream only to cross the lakes but I also dream of exploring the depths thereof.

I'll start by learning to swim. In

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chains

chronic beautiful, like a column written by him alone, a typical chronic Foglieni, Pierre Foglia evoked today this annoying habit for people to buy books ; discounts at Costco and put it in direct relation to the closure of small bookstores, as this library Rimouski which we had managed to attach in a few lines. After reading the history of this library we dreamed of Rimouski in Rimouski to rush it and was shocked by the closure thereof.

But the trick - and it Foglia can imagine, I'm sure - is that there is probably not a reader or a reader of his columns which buys books at Costco. And if they do, it probably is aware that they should not. Foglia writes for a readership convinced in advance. Again, I repeat, he probably knows. I do not think that his intention is to educate its readers but to take this opportunity to defend the proposal, often back on the table for several years, imposing a single price. And I hope that repetition of this proposal will have echoes because it is the only possible solution in the current context, because people will not stop, whatever tell them to go buy books at a discount at Costco. And first, why would they? Why the fate of independent bookstores they would import it? How the fate of independent bookstores Is it attached to them? I have no answer to offer but I know that as long as we do not answer this question, we can not do anything.

What seems striking about this story to buy his books at Costco rather than in a library which does not speak Foglia, is the attachment of people to big chains, like Costco or Tim Horton. I think for many years in this attachment and it amazes me. If people are buying books at Costco rather in an independent bookshop, it's not just because it's cheaper but because Costco, like all channels, it is reassuring. Immense and completely impersonal but reassuring. In fact, I would abolish this "but". Impersonal and therefore reassuring. Reassuring because it's known, because it is familiar. Chains and the cultural industry, hand in hand, we have made entirely chilly, even hostile to what is unknown, foreign. We are terrified to get close to something we do not know by heart in advance, and much more, to confront us with something personal, human. So rather than go to a local restaurant, we go into a string, rather than going for a coffee in a nice little cafe, we go to Tim Horton (although this is not really cheaper, needless to say), rather than go eat a burger in a snack, we go to McDonald's (though it is a little different in some neighborhoods, Hochelaga-Maisonneuve as to where snacks are much more prevalent than chains), etc. etc.. Go to an independent coffee shop rather than a string, let alone in a small cafe is a bit like going to someone, someone willing to receive us at him. It is a promise for human contact. And that, well, it makes you uncomfortable these beings become so timid, so afraid to have contact through being conditioned , s to be kept far each other.

And if I say all this is of course because I know all that. I come from a family fearful, not just temperament, if somewhat, perhaps. But for me it's clearly an attribute of class against which I must constantly fight, especially since I am naturally shy. When I enter a new place in a small cafe, I always feel a little intimidated - why, I guess, I like to establish my household gods in some places personal certainly, but less to intimidate me strength to attend. I remember, for example, this spring have gone absolutely charming in a cafe on Mont Royal, east, Les Bois coffee or something like that. The woman working there this afternoon there seemed to be the owner or if one of the few employees of the place and she was so friendly and charismatic. Still, I was embarrassed to the point where I almost get out but we still remained and it was a wonderful moment, le café était délicieux et l'endroit adorable, « quoique » très très Plateau avec une petite crowd de genres d'intellos, journalistes et autres. Mais bref, mes vieux réflexes avaient failli me pousser hors de l'endroit. Ce que je n'ai pas fait, heureusement. J'ai eu l'impression de vivre une rencontre, à ce moment, sans avoir parlé vraiment avec la serveuse, ce qui se serait peut-être produit si j'y étais retournée à une ou deux reprises parce que les gens ont tendance à se souvenir de moi, Perhaps because of my appearance, perhaps because they find me weird, maybe because I'm a little charming, perhaps because of my crack teeth, I do not know. It's just like that ...

Finally, I find this very sad situation for me, and I do not see any solutions to it. Many people do manage to escape only by a certain snobbery (we hear, this attitude has nothing to urban and is miles away from the reality of hipsters!) or rejection their original environment. Having spent years living in the arch-familiar, they will launch headlong into the unknown. I do not know exactly how I lived. I only dream to see people escape this attitude that contributes to further alienate us from each other.

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In the spirit of Ferdinand

Ferdinand, our big cat has been missing since yesterday. I do not know if he jumped from the balcony or is simply slipped while attempting a hundredth acrobatics. I would rather for the latter hypothesis because if he wanted to go exploring, it would long he would have done. Fortunately, there was no cat crashed down from the balcony ... It would seem that it is unharmed by his fall or break her.

When I woke up yesterday morning there was a long thin branch at the entrance door of my room, which is very surprising since a fairly large living room separates our the pulpit. This can be the wind that has brought to the room. It can therefore only be a cat. Would it Elstir or Badria we brought it to show us the downfall of Ferdinand? What gnaws my blood, I think I may have seen the famous industry before going to bed. I do not know, I was so tired. In such a case, it would mean that I could not observe the signs and if I had, I might have found Ferdinand immediately. Amelia said it was useless to think about such things. She is probably right.

So we polled our hometown last night looking in all the cars and searching as many potential hiding places. God knows they are many. There are so many streets, so many bushes, so below balconies. The amount of hiding places is infinite. Maybe he is now happily frolicking in the neighborhood, starting in sprints incredible, hunting mice, voles and unwary birds facing the ground. Perhaps too busy there to try to dominate other cats in the neighborhood. Fern is a thug , an alpha male, a massive big cat ... but oh so tender! When we start to wake up morning, he lies down on us and purr purrs its exceptionally to shake the earth. (Seriously, never have I heard so powerful purr!)

But not this morning, of course. I woke up an hour earlier than usual. I thought it was perhaps a sign that perhaps Ferdinand wait on the doorstep. Eyes barely open, so I descended the steps of our staircase that leads up to the front door, second floor. Ferdinand was pas là, bien sûr. (Bien sûr, puisque je ne raconterais pas l'histoire ainsi.)

Me voilà donc sur le balcon avant à la première heure, en train d'écrire tout en demeurant attentive aux potentiels cris stridents ferdinandiens qui pourraient percer la relative tranquillité du matin.

J'essaie d'imaginer où je me terrerais si j'étais Ferdinand. Je n'en sais foutrement rien. Ah si je pouvais apprendre ce qui se passe dans la tête de mes félins. Ça me fait penser à une passionnante émission de Radiolab I listened yesterday "Animal Minds" , where we pondered this mystery that constitutes the spirit of the animals. Perhaps I will come back later. Maybe not. There are elements so exciting, I do not want to steal punches!

The Fern:

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Well, in principle, creative ...

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The initial shape

Some time ago, by a curious combination of circumstances - not so strange that this, indeed, was as part of my job - I had to read an article on leadership . The article studied the characteristics shared by the leader . Among the features are common to them, it was noted among other resilience (the famous resilience), and their ambitions beyond the simple happiness marital or family.

Judging by these characteristics, I am as well give up now at leadership !

remember that resilience is defined as the ability of a material to resume its original shape. But why live if we must give up going after our inner turmoil, on behalf of an ambition which is often, in fact, deeply trivial. If personal happiness is rejected by these people out of hand, it is for me the financial success that seems like the most ordinary thing in the world.

The problem is that these people can not even conceive that some people do not share their vision. This is so obvious to them. It could not be otherwise.

So I attracted any time within a certain contempt for the private company by refusing to register within this system of values, unique value in done. It might be time you wonder what I think when I say that I agree with the idea that the individual who is dominating who agrees to put in below others. At the difference that, unlike them, my ambition is not to dominate but just to escape their domination.

I think suddenly scornful comment that I once heard from a leader about a person who was absent due to die and such of his pet. For this person, this was clearly the most stupid thing ever. Yep, life is awfully made. There are people who leave to mourn their pets, while others might prefer, if they could avoid missing a single workday to go to the funeral of one of its parents. It is necessary that the world is balanced ...

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Voices

I loathe nostalgia. This does not prevent me from abandoning myself in the next lines.

Let's go then. I regret (bitterly?) Blogs before that time the letter.

Amelia and I were talking a few days ago, what a wonderful time it was this time when Live Journal (Journal of Dead and his brother) was overflowing with unique voices. It was the time where the blog was practiced in some underground, which was proudly wore the nickname, which the blog was either unknown or despised. It was the heyday of the blogosphere before the only project where all these people was to make their voices heard, without having in mind the kind already marked, without writing keeping in mind standards - quite ugly, moreover, admit it! Was when people who do not often write wrote - wrote as one throws a bottle into the sea without even knowing if they would read or to the attention of some minds that circulated in the underground environment.

At that time, I had the opportunity to read people who write an impressive and exciting ideas to explore, people who had a pen oh how much more integrated ; esting that some blogs oriented literary today. (This is also not surprising since I have seen over the years that it is often when people try to make literature they fail, their prisoners die ; Conference with respect to the literature, whereas when they think of writing more mundane things they produce something truly literary.) I miss terribly texts these people so intelligent and sensitive texts from people who should no longer write or write so little. Among those who stopped to be heard, I think unfortunate at herezy at lesamoursmortes (aka naivete) to nasturtiums and many others. There are some strong (s) but these write exclusively (or almost) in private

... I know that many of these voices will never be heard and immerse myself in this situation very sad.

There are many blogs literature students or other university that I love deeply but these have another opportunity to write. And several literary blog is just a stopgap until a project to publish, not a key project ...

As for all those others, so numerous that embark on the blog today, they are faced with a design if defined and often insignificant blog that there is little chance that they manage to produce something really personal. What a shame.

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A mock intellectual life

When I entered the workforce full time, driven by the mental exhaustion and physical necessity, I quickly realized that I gave - at least momentarily - to devote my life to the intellectual life, analysis of world literature. In short, what was most essential to my life, except love. I thought however that I find time, I find energy to do this while having no. Maybe I thought and the courage to continue. Maybe I really thought there. I do not know.

During these months, I spent a lot of time crying this intellectual life reduced to nothing. Lttéralement cried, I mean. Amelia and Louito devoted, in turn, a lot of time trying to keep me out of this despair in which I could only drift. Then, I do not know why or how I stopped crying. Not resignation, but out of habit, I guess. Thus most people give to life. The difference is that I knew, I always knew that I still know that, within the scope of an incredible opportunity, I would find this sooner or later intellectual life. Together, Amelie and I will. That's all I know.

Still, that has emerged so far with me with more and more strength the idea that it is not really possible for the intellectual life outside the university and institutions, I have managed to an ad hoc basis, especially under the incentive of Amelia. Then, during my teaching - which have nothing intellectual, though they have other qualities more pragmatic, say - and started me engrossed to the point where I became this woman fixed on its objectives, including that of bringing to regain its intellectual life. Fixed entirely on its objectives and therefore have little time for reflection, which may have been useful in my case, who knows.

My summer ended, I began to breathe a bit, then vacuum again struck me during my days at the office. While I was back to more administrative tasks, that is to say (as part of my duties, at least) that do not require much reflection, which are, frankly, fairly mechanical, I had the idea of intellectually stimulate me a bit by listening to podcasts while laboring. I asked my contacts on Facebook and was lucky to discover them through a few jewels of podcasts, as Radiolab , podcast science exciting and very funny and This American Life, a literary podcast really nice but much more difficult to listen without devoting his attention.

Listening to these podcasts I felt a little revived even devoted myself to activities most mechanical and I told myself that being a curious person was one of the greatest graces and one the only ways to live happy, live really. I blessed the idea came to me, especially listening to an episode of Radiolab, "Strangers in the mirror" an absolutely fascinating conference with a neuroscientist and an artist with a strange evil, face blindbess, that ensures they can not recognize faces. Tragic condition! And yet, listening to this broadcast, I could not help but marvel. As life is amazing and worthwhile!

I managed to spend my days in some enthusiasm until assailed the ide e: but it is a travesty of intellectual life that suddenly I found! Is not this worse than having no intellectual life at all?

I procrastinated with this idea for some time and I'm diving in broadcasts of the CBC allowing me to keep abreast of cultural events (well, what takes place ), but generally insignificant emissions nice that I finally got tired.

And then, last week, I told myself to take everything a simulacrum of intellectual life is better for my survival, to a total lack of intellectual life between 9 and 5 and I started to listen passionately The mocking evil , a broadcast on France Inter, which allows me to indulge my taste for the macabre, my passion for horror and even meet some curiosity "intellectual" because the trivia there with the most fundamentally terrifying events of history. Since last week, so they are mocking The evil that just give a little life to my days. And Brett Easton Ellis cheers my evenings and weekends, but I'll talk another time.

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Duration

I have not seen the weekend pass. How horrible.

There are people who aspire to that, do not see pass their free time, which multiply the movement not to feel for a moment the flow of time. For me, it's the worst thing. I need enough vacuum to feel good this time. So when my evenings and my weekends are too full - my days I do not speak, they are not mine - and choking despair.

This is not that I did not like devote my weekend to repaint our space, Amelie and I liked that I did not fill our walls these colors we want so long and that make me so happy. In truth, I've enjoyed it immensely. I love losing myself in some things, like painting trim. I like to devote myself to contemplation at the most inappropriate. One of the only ways I found to escape momentarily the world that disgusts me In many ways, to ensure my own survival, is to take as much time as I can take - and even more. Why not deserve a molding it not all respects? I therefore gave him my full attention, as if it were the single most important thing in the world, failing to offer him a talent that I have, alas, no.

You suspect that I was not alone to get their hands dirty! It takes a long time, or other people more effective, or others who have less inclination for contemplation, or other people who do not have the luxury of contemplation, so that work progresses ...