Refraction

… 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.)

Il faut vous enivrer sans trêve.
Mais de quoi?
De vin, de poésie, ou de vertu, à votre guise.
Mais enivrez-vous.

My heart isn’t crushed all day by the weight of her absence, because I know I’ll see her in the evening. […] I’m not afraid of choosing the wrong restaurant or wearing the wrong outfit, or of saying something which will make her judge me. My stomach doesn’t knot when I awaken beside her, because when I open my eyes I find her pressed against me. I don’t live in anticipation, but in the moment.

There’s one thing I have to say so I’ll be brave
You were what I wanted
I gave what I gave
I’m not sorry I met you
I’m not sorry it’s over
I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save
I’m not sorry there’s nothing to save

Watching the Stars secret show in Toronto… I’m very convinced this band has a hold on my heart for a very long time. Drama? Check. Boy/girl vocals? Check. Songs of love won and lost? Check.

And to think, I never would have gotten into them if I hadn’t randomly followed up on a concert poster I saw a few years ago on my way to work. Funny how that works.

I am completely outing myself as a prescriptivist grammarian here, but I can’t be the only one who winces when native speakers say “I would have went.” Don’t even get me started on the decline of the subjunctive mood in English.

My boss’ pet peeve is “Me neither” (which he’s caught me on twice), but that doesn’t make my ears hurt, at least.

Just one more final to write. Stupid take-home final. This is really more of a final paper.

JUST ONE MORE, and a thesis defence (eventually) and I’LL BE DONE

Comment 106 here:

For us, we choose who we wanted to invite (everyone) and then chose a venue and a budget to suit. […] Friends were far more important than some overpriced venue or food.

Going to have to keep this mind if I ever get married.

I think I can finally remember the meaning of the French phrase “à l’insu de” (though more commonly “à notre insu, à mon insu”)

in – not; su – PP of savoir, to know => insu – not known

“à mon insu” – “without my knowing, unbeknowst to me”

See Part I here.

My father, in his infinite wisdom:
“You know, the character you want in a boyfriend is a bit like mine. You’re kind of like Mom, and if the both of you were like that, the marriage wouldn’t last long.”

Thanks for jumping directly to marriage, Dad!

(Also, for a long time, one of my great fears has been turning out like my mother. I don’t know how like her I actually am, given his comments….)