  My heart is pounding and i wonder whether it’s the coffee or the impending trip to Montreal. I am nervous, hopeful... I can’t wait to see G!! (as he furrows his brow in squinty-eyed question-ment of why I would “not be able to wait” to see him...) Although he’ll have to wait a little since i’m going to dinner with my girls... i haven’t seen them or spoken to them, really, in like, a year! Very little news to give, except that I’m back on my feet and doing better. I feel more like myself now than I ever did in Montreal. In Montreal I was just stoned. ALL THE TIME. That’s how people survive in Montreal. They get stoned a lot. Unless of course you’re my brother, then to survive you play da guitar. Or play with your cats. I’m not exactly sure HOW he survives. Maybe it’s the circus. There are some people I can’t wait to see!!
There is one person I hope rots in... no no... I just hope I don’t see him. I am repulsed by the fact that he would try to be nice, or worse, he’d hate me and yell at me, or worse even, he’d flirt with me... ew. I’d just rather avoid the whole situation. Completely. Although I wouldn’t mind running into his sister, getting news from her... she was really nice and surprisingly normal. I wonder how she and her boyfriend are, her kid. She was really really good to me. Maybe i’ll ring her up... ug.
Maybe not. The preparation tonight will be long and stressful! I wish I could tack on an hour somewhere in between jobs to get some stuff done! I should do some laundry, I should clean my room before I go... argh. It’s been a really busy couple of weeks with Gigi visiting and Max visiting... with all the work i’ve been doing... bla bla bla. K, i can be lazy, but i’m freakin entitled! I need a suitcase. A small one. All i have now is my grade 9 Roots backpack, which is still nice n’ all, but it’s kinda small.
I’ll try to borrow one from J who got a set for Christmas. Actually, wait a minute! i DO have a suitcase. i'm on crack. Let us pray, shall we? : Dear God/Powers that be, Thank you for my life for I am blessed. I live in a city I love, I have a family I adore, I have the greatest friends anyone could ask for. I truly live in a free country, where one can speak freely and act freely, where human rights are valued and where pain and suffering are unacceptable. Give us the courage to better ourselves. Give us the strength to make this a better world. Give us the fortitude of spirit to love even though we are hated, to care even though the world is aloof.
Remind us that life is fragile and give us the creativity to make the most of our time on Earth with the people and places we love. Thank you Thank you Thank you... for I once believed I had dug my own grave... until Quentin Tarentino showed me Kung Fu!!! :) Amen. You liked that little Kill Bill 2 reference??... You like that don’cha... I won’t be able to write again until i’m back from Montreal on Tuesday. So, an extra-long blog. When I read this I thought it was very fitting in the week leading up to my trip. Here’s a little Paulo Coelho, on love, to last y’all the weekend: Keeping open to love There are moments when we would like very much to help someone we love deeply and we just can't seem to do a thing. Either circumstances prevent us from drawing closer or else the person has shut off to any gesture of solidarity and support. So, all we have left is love. In those moments when everything is useless, we can still love - without expecting anything in return, any exchanges or thanks. If we can manage to act in this way, the energy of love begins to transform the universe around us. When this energy appears, you always perform your work successfully. "Time does not change men.
Will power does not change men. Love changes men," says Henry Drummond. I read in the newspaper about a child in Brasília who was brutally beaten by his parents. As a result, she lost her body movements and her power of speech. Admitted to the Base Hospital, she was taken care of by a nurse who said to her every day: "I love you. " Although the doctors guaranteed that she could not hear and that the nurse's efforts were all to no avail, she kept repeating: "I love you, don't you forget that.
" Three weeks later on, the child had recovered her movements. Four weeks later, she started to talk and smile again. The nurse never gave any interviews and the newspapers did not publish her name - but let it be registered here, so that we will never forget: love is a great healer. Love transforms, love heals. But at times love builds mortal traps and ends up destroying the person who has decided to surrender completely.
What strange sentiment is this that deep down is the only reason for us to go on living and struggling and trying to make things better? It would irresponsible of me to try to define it because, like any other human being, all I can do is feel it. Thousands of books have been written about it, plays put on at the theater, films produced, poems scribbled, sculptures carved in wood or marble - and even so, all that the artist can convey is the idea of a feeling, not the feeling itself. But I have learned that this feeling is present in the small things and manifests itself in the most insignificant of attitudes we take, so we must always have love in mind when we act or fail to act.
Picking up the phone and uttering that affectionate word we have been putting off. Opening the door and showing in someone who needs our help. Accepting a job. Leaving a job. Making that decision that we were putting off for later. Apologizing for a mistake we made that will not leave us in peace. Claiming a right that we have. Opening an account at the florist's - which is more important than the jeweler's.
Playing the music loud when your loved one is far away and lower the volume when he or she is nearby. Knowing how to say "yes" and "no" - because love involves all of man's energies. Discovering a sport that can be practiced by two. Not following any prescription, not even those listed in this paragraph - because love calls for creativity. And when none of this is possible, when all that is left is loneliness, then remember a story that a reader once sent me: A rose dreamed day and night about having the company of the bees, but none ever came to land on her petals. But the flower went on dreaming: during many a long night she imagined a sky with lots of bees flying towards her and kissing her tenderly. In this way she managed to resist to the next day, when she opened again to the sunlight. One night the moon, knowing how lonely the rose felt, asked her: - Aren't you tired of waiting? - Perhaps. But I have to struggle on. - Why? - Because if I don't open up, I will wither. At moments when loneliness seems to crush all beauty, the only way to resist is to keep yourself open. 
