october 16, 2000. The Boy's on the road again today. I'm handling it much better this time. I think it has something to do with the fact that we're not fighting like coked-up soap opera weasels these days. This last month has been a renewal, a very concrete renewal. When we moved in, it wasn't as if we didn't know each other, we really didn't know each other. That's not because we didn't shack up in pre-marital sin before the big day, though. It's because we had very little time and leisure to relax in each other's company - there was always somewhere to go, some errand to run, some nap to catch. There was no stillness between us, none of the deep understanding that is essential to trust. We're recouping that stillness, little by little. The secret I think is not to batter myself to death against the perceived inadequacies, like a moth committing helpless hari kiri trying to touch the porch light sun. That was last month. I want to put frantic-ness behind me, and substitute faith in its place. This month, I know that it is not beyond my grasp. Interesting afternoon. We got our practicum placements this afternoon, which tells me where I'll be spending the last five weeks of the term. Coincidences have re-entered my life with a vengeance: the school is the one at which Princess Leah's dad teaches history. Imagine! The first high school I became aware of in the province, and I'm shooting towards it like a pedagogical bullet. Bang! Plus, I think I'm with Petra (the only person I've bothered to bring to your attention through the cast). My problem is that I'm not really sure if it's her name. I barely know first names, let along last names - a first initial plus last name designation signifies nothing to me. I suppose I'll find out in the next couple of days. Still, it renews my faith. "Phil's faith was on a constant treadmill of destruction and renewal." - son of interflux I realize that my language in this entry is particularly fruity. I can't help it. English studies required a folder hand-in today, so I spent hours last night knocking together drafts to prove that I can do something other than collect articles about Pierre Trudeau. Among other things, I ended up with a poem called "Pomme Liason," which is almost exactly what it sounds like. So I've had a bit of a poetry hang-over today, and I'll shoot oblique phrasing right in your gut if you just look at me funny. Really. Just try me.