Refraction

To live in this world

you must be able
to do three things:
to love what is mortal;
to hold it

against your bones knowing
your own life depends on it;
and, when the time comes to let it go,
to let it go.

– Mary Oliver, “In Blackwater Woods”

Looking at the BBC’s summary of the Republican candidates for the presidential nomination, I’m rather struck by the fact that I don’t think any of their views align with mine. “Really?” I thought to myself. “I can’t find anyone who I can vote for in good confidence?” There’s been talk about how polarized and extreme American politics has become, but I didn’t think it’d be this bad.

Of course, then I realized it’s because I’m not a Republican, at all, and I ought to look to Obama for ideals I believe in.

For the past few years, my has father voiced his concern that his only daughter is going to wind up a spinster (and when I reflect on it a bit more it’s come through in other ways my whole life, more or less; anyway, I digress.) A few days ago my father decided that it was time for his yearly “love life”¹ talk with me.

It went a little something like:

“Daughter, if there are any boys interested in you, you should reciprocate! By the time you’re 30 all the good ones will be gone. Don’t trot out the fact that your own parents didn’t get married until their thirties, things are different for you.”²

My only response here was a lame kind of “I don’t have time for a boyfriend right now.”

There’s something in his reasoning here that’s kind of bothering me, but I can’t quite put my finger on it at the moment. It has to do with a) this idea of ‘take the first one who comes along’ (and implicitly: ‘because that’ll happen rarely enough that you really should cut your losses’) and b) the other idea that people (but men in particular) are only single because they’re not up to snuff.

Not really sure which one is more upsetting. Probably the former, since the second is much more easily rationalized away—how many times have you thought, “What do they see in that person?” But telling your own daughter (however subtly) that she just isn’t good enough… well…

1. Previously: Part I, Part II. [↩]
2. Yeah, Dad, things are pretty different, all right. [↩]

Doctor, unbandage my eyes
I feel the light and I’m ready to be out in it
Doctor, uncover my ears
I hear the chorus weeping, I see the people singing

Hey Rosetta, “Yer Spring”

This is a fantastic song from a wonderful Canadian band.¹ I saw them in concert a while ago for the second time and was completely blown away; it didn’t matter that I’d gone by myself, as soon as they took the stage all my attention was fixed on the band.

Part of the reason why I love HR! so much is that they always seem to be having fun on stage while putting on a great show. I’ve been to some bigger shows which had more spectacle, but where the band members (or maybe just the vocalist) seemed to be dialling it in—as a fan, that’s not a pleasant feeling at all.

Verdict: For fans of indie rock layered with strings, as well as fans of the Rock.²

1. Full disclosure: I may have a tiny little crush on the lead singer [↩]
2. Newfoundland [↩]

So lately I’ve been reading Dinosaur Comics — I find the absurdist humour pretty awesome most of the time. (The recent one on quantum erotica is good for a chuckle.)

When I was younger, though, I preferred to read about real dinosaurs, even though they (arguably) had less character. I was quite pleased to discover the favourite book as a 6- or 7-year old is still kicking around the school system. I swear The Dinosaur Encyclopedia spent a whole lot more time than it should have at my house and in my locker.

I kind of have a half-crazy urge to order this book down from the satellite campus just to get another look at it 20 years down the road. I wonder how much I’d still remember.

et je rêve d’un courant d’air
d’un éspace clos avec vue sur la mer
d’un silence radio, d’un océan solaire

I always feel guilty for listening (and liking!) KYO’s music; it’s firmly for les ados, after all. There’s a beautiful line in this song, though:

et je rêve de former un arc/en chair et en osmose avec la terre
“en chair et en os” meaning “in the flesh”, of course.

I think I need some new French music.

come on baby, play me something/like ‘Here Comes the Sun’

I am so so so excited to start learning how to play the guitar. My lab mate has lent me his for the time being (I figure I’ll eventually buy it off him) and I can’t stop fiddling with it. I even like tuning it! (He lent me his digital tuner as well ) Hopefully this is a hobby I can stick with

Also, been listening to Metric’s Fantasies over and over again. Such a good album, how did I ignore it the first time I heard it?

Also, research blah blah blah.

I don’t know what it is about Explosions in the Sky—how do they manage to provoke such an emotional reaction in me without words? I teared up during one of the earlier songs (“First Breath After Coma,” perhaps “The Only Moment We Were Alone”) and definitely had damp eyes for most of “Your Hand in Mine.”

No encore, though, that was a little disappointing. Apparently they played right up to curfew! Can’t ask for more than that.

… as dreams are made on

I’ve been having a weird series of dreams the last few nights. Normally, I don’t remember my dreams at all, and when I do, they’re usually terribly mundane (perhaps I haven’t much imagination?) But the last few nights I’ve dreamt I’m an Olympic figure skater (women’s solo) in the 2010 Games, and I’m slowly advancing by some miracle. There are a few surreal elements too: a judge who outlaws Domo-kun from the rink, claiming a similarity with some other monster (a grue?); a ski chateau on Kingsway playing athletes’ village and serving hearty Alpine food; support from a man (or two) I’d rather have nothing to do with; coaching from my high school trivia coach. Even stranger, I manage to advance despite not including any jumps in my routine. It’s a wonder I’m in still in the competition at all.

I feel like I’m watching a serial soap opera or something, that’s all. I wonder if I’ll dream about it again tonight.

ETA: I didn’t. Instead I dreamt I was a spy working alongside one of my favourite musicians, Emm Gryner. We didn’t get up to much spyin’ though, I have this feeling we mostly sat around and… observed things.

RIP, Jack. You will be missed. I hope your legacy is one of love, hope, and optimism.

(Incidentally, this has made clear to me why I believe charisma is so important in a politician; it’s the ability to engage, to inspire, to unite. If anyone is looking for a political role model, it should be Jack Layton: a man who knew how to play the game, but looked damn good doing it.)