september 22, 2000. "If it's not love than it's the Bomb, the Bomb, the Bomb, the Bomb, the Bomb, the Bomb, the Bomb that will bring us together." - the smiths (At one point, I thought he was singing "bum." How's that for an embarrassing Smiths-related moment? Of course, I just recently figured out that another song goes, "living it up," not "let me get off." I am my own filth generator, subsisting on the thinnest of syllable coincidences.) I feel odd today. Tired a bit & detached & purposeless. Like I'm water up in the atmosphere: put me at the bottom of the sea and I'll crush a man's rib cage as soon as look at him, but up here in the ionosphere, I'm too diffuse to do anything but look pretty in an abstract sort of way. (Why are clouds attractive? Maybe because they're a reminder of the not so solid that seems to belie the common work-a-day world. Maybe because they're something we can't visit without wearing big metal tubes. Or maybe because Keats was right and there is an eternal beauty that exists for us to discover.) All I know is, I finished my second paper for the Faculty of Education today and now I feel half-there. Hey! If I get really good as astral projection, I can go visit my friends in Toronto without the crippling expense of the plane ride. Now that's savings. I want to do things today, I mean, really do things. Write more. Post more. Start thanking people for coming to the wedding. Clean up the kitchen. Start on next week's homework. I'm just trying to coelesce enough to make it happen. Any second now, I'll start forming droplets, and then... Well, watch out is all I can say. Watch out world. The Boy got a job today. It's pretty sweet: traveling video salesman, servicing stores in the Maritimes. He gets an expense account and use of a company car. There are only 2 problems: it only pays an average wage and he could be gone overnight. I don't like the prospect of being so completely alone here, but we really need the money. And the use of a car once in awhile wouldn't hurt, either. I dunno. It's scary, I won't say that it's not. But then I think, well, what if we'd made the reverse move? What if we'd grown up in small town Nova Scotia and picked up stakes for Toronto? Imagine how harsh that would be, what a complete battery on the senses and on all ideas of how to live. This is a beautiful place (except for the incredible amounts of pollen). The only thing it lacks is the familiar. And that can only be remedied by time, right? Right. I just wish I didn't feel, every once in awhile, like we were serving time.