Missed a poetry reading tonight. Wasn't sure if I really wanted to go or not. The guy was in a couple of my poetry classes, was obviously the favourite of at least one of the profs, much to the detriment of everyone else. This reading was to celebrate his first book. I'm torn because I remember the guy's arrogance, and the frustration I felt in those classes because I was clearly second rate and apparently not worth the input, but at the same time I have a feeling that his work is brilliant and worth reading, either because of or in spite of the mentoring. Anyway, weird headspace; want to be inspired!

dammit.

J's still off work with his injured shoulder, though he managed to rearrange the furniture while I was at work. Will have to finish the cleanup tomorrow, since it's not moved in the last three days. Right now he's typing madly to a guild officer in hopes of resolving (?) an issue that's arisen with an instance run. (If you don't play Wow, that will be Greek to you, but hey that's what he's doing.) His typing is getting harder and harder, so I don't think it's going well.

Sent Mom some of the editing that she asked me to do. When I talked to her last night she wasn't ready to open the package. I will have to see if she managed today =P

listening to: Spring arrives - Azam Ali

Up early again today to work a full Saturday, something I've not done in months. I decided that I'd leave at the same time, because I wasn't 100% sure how the bus schedule was different – turns out that it was only a couple of minutes later, but I still got downtown at the same time. (I only know this because I checked the clock inside the mall, my watch has stopped and I have yet to put the new battery in!) Less traffic this early on a Saturday, most people are like J, still passed out in bed – I don't think he even heard me leave! I had to force myself to crawl out of bed a few minutes earlier this morning, because I wanted to have a shower. I had fully intended on breakfast too, but it was so hard dragging myself out of bed that by the time I was done with the shower there wasn't enough time left to do so. On the bus I thought I'd get a coffee at Sam's, since I know the girls there but when I passed by it wasn't open yet.

I have decided I don’t like working on Saturdays. So I went to the 7-11. Sam's has three choices for coffee, medium, dark and decaf. 7-11 had at least seven, three kinds of sugar, eight kinds of cream, a whole carrel of syrups and spices and another machine for mochas and cappuccinos and tea – being a coffee noob I felt a little out of my depth and grabbed the traditional brown sugar and two of the closest creams. Luckily they turned out to be french vanilla and not something vile. I have no idea if the coffee is even that good, all I know is that it's warm and I have less of that bitter aftertaste. And that there's caffeine in it!

Bzzzzz!

Worked out some logic (and historical) issues with HIWTHI (I really must think of a new title, I've forgotten what the acronym even means now.) in my head last night and scribbled them down before my shower this morning. Adding another thread I think will clear some things up immensely – things I want the reader to know but can't tell through either Arika or Marlon. At this stage I don't know if I want to get into Gage’s head or not. Something else to think about!

In other writing news I've decided I want to write something about working in the tourist industry. Specifically here on the island, because I've heard some hilarious stories about silly tourists and I think there would be quite the market for it. For example: We are located underneath a government office, and every day these government worker types come outside multiple times for cigarettes. They all stand on the sidewalk and smoke, some against our window, others on the corner, one leaning on a parking meter – you get he picture (one comes out every hour on the hour – you can set a watch by her!). A European man walks into the exchange to change some Euro into Canadian and as he’s putting his cash away he pauses and looks at the teller and asks "How is it that you have so many prostitutes out on the street?" It seems that where he's from, that's how you can tell a prostitute from the average woman – she stands on the street and smokes, rather than sitting at an outdoor cafe table or something, since there are no laws in Europe to prohibit smoking in such places.

So if anyone has some funny tales they want to share, let's collaborate!

J's going to be off work for another few weeks, apparently. The ligament in his right shoulder is torn, which the doctor says is akin to breaking the bone since that's what attaches the muscle to the bone in the first place. They're sending him to a sports doc next week in the hope that that will help. I certainly hope they're right!

...is not fought with swords it seems. Language is interesting. We spend so much time compiling dictionaries to define what each word means, so that we can all work from some common ground, and yet, it really comes down to interpretation. He said, she said. A desire to write is a desire (at least to me) to communicate. I write the word and hope a reader interprets it the same way.

Sigh... been reading about emotional blackmail, which is part of the reason I had this thought about language. If you're in a relationship with someone and that person has the ability to warp your words back at you, how are you to put up any kind of defense? It takes skill and guts to fight a war of words. Maybe even more to back off.

However, this thread lead me to Heartless Bitches which I found rather amusing.

Day off! And it's NICE OUT! I didn't even have to put on a jacket when I went outside. Fabulous I say!

Wanted to write more poetry, but my mental space is once again clouded. I did get some yummy lines yesterday though. Hooray me!

My hair smells like coconut! (This is important, however, it's a but awkward, since now I want some coconut and trust me when I say hair does not taste at all like it.

J made me an ice cream drink and it has Baileys, Kahlua and Malibu in it. I am so FUBARED.

listening to: Nightmares on Wax - Damn
Quote of the day: "I want to make you move because you're standing still..." Finger Eleven.
reading: Quicksilver - Neal Stephenson

Sunset’s not far off.
The air changes colour on days like this it seems; there’s this amber hue to everything, making the world seem burnished.