First day of winter

Oh, right...it gets cold this time of year. Funny how I always get reminded the hard way. Funny how I can know without really knowing it.

Yes, it's the first day of the Montreal winter, by my subjective measure. Sure, it's not official, but I know winter when I'm feelin' it.

O Me of Little Faith!

Inspired by a post (Pole-vaulting to find Faith?) and ensuing discussion on the blog of "One Female Canuck"

I'm developing this stuff for an upcoming zine called "Believing is Seeing"
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It's the end of term. We're talking on the metro, on the way back from some event. She is speaking about how difficult and stressful the last couple of weeks have been for her. I respond to this, pretty seriously I guess. She smiles.

"You know, you really shouldn't believe everything I say."

"Why not?", I say. "It's a good story. And as the Good Book (Life of Pi) teaches, one should believe in the better story. Give me a better story and I will believe that instead."

OR

It's the end of term. We're talking on the metro, on the way back from some event. She is speaking about how difficult and stressful the last couple of weeks have been for her. I respond to this, pretty seriously I guess. She smiles.

"You know, you really shouldn't believe everything I say."

"No? Uh....well, OK......maybe not everything. But what? And why?"

Which story do you believe?

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Well, I’ve always said there’s nothing an agnostic can’t do if he really doesn’t know whether he believes in anything or not" (Monty Python, "Church Bells" sketch)

I grew up a lapsed Catholic, in a very secular environment. But I’ve wanted to believe that there’s a point to things and that I have a purpose within that. I read the parts of the Bible where prophets thundered against the kings and other powers that be of the age, who were screwing the poor and bringing Israel to ruin and I thought- I should be like that. So I became an activist of sorts. I believed that if I dressed up as pernicious suited capitalists, suited axe wielding bureaucrats or as imperialist national mascots and re-enacted injustices on the street or before audiences, I would help to change the popular consciousness- I would help the world overcome the idolatry of neo-liberalism and restore a true, balanced sense of spiritual/religious transcendence that would include social justice and living in a manner that would be sustainable within our natural environment. Or words to that effect, anyway.

I still do activist theatre, but as a Catholic I seem to have become even more lapsed lately. I’ve found it difficult to take the pronouncements of popes and bishops very seriously. Out-of-touch, exclusively male hierarchies have never really appealed to me. After one recent activist theatre performance I went to a party where I witnessed an argument about gender and sexuality between an exceedingly sexually liberated (well, at least rhetorically) young woman and a young non-lapsed Catholic man. It was an interesting argument. For much of the night she was almost on top of him, continuously threatening to have sex with him to prove her points. Or so it seemed, but then I was rather drunk at the time. But even if it isn’t true, there’s a whole series of fantasies one could develop from this story idea- philosophical sex!

But, erm, anyway. What do I believe in? I believe I would like to believe in something. It’s not much, but it’ll have to do for now.

I’ve been sliding backwards, but looking forward to that day: the day of my release, when the wind, unleashed, will blow the grey away.

Enough about the weather. I went briefly to the manif against the war in Afghanistan, and was quickly discouraged by the rain. But then, at the "Block the Empire" part of the rally, I was rallied by a marching band. They had some other interesting art performance things happening involving clowns. Looks like an interesting thing to be a part of.

I've sometimes been put off by Block the Empire's self-consciously "radical" rhetoric- but the spirit of playful creativity will transcend such limitations. The chants, which were not infused with such spirit, did not. To my mind, the point of a chant at a march is to concisely and (and, even better, memorably) convey what the march is about. I think that what a chant like "Le capital fait la guerre- la guerre au capital!" (Capital makes war. Make war on capital!) conveys to most people is "Here is a bunch of communists." I don't believe that was, or should have been, the point. Not that I'm a great fan of capitalism myself, but I don't find mere "anti-capitalism" to be very inspiring either.

Soon enough my aversion to continous cold rain under a grey sky won out over the activist spark in me. (The weather keeps creeping back into this) Maybe it's making me crabby and conservative.

But enough about the weather.

Lunchtime: Chocolate and Coffee

Now's the time of year when I start drinking more coffee (I'm not usually a great coffee drinker) and craving sweets, especially chocolate. It's the quest for an energy boost.

I woke up this morning in a good mood though, not like some mornings. ("Grumble...grumble...it's cold, do I have to get out of bed? I'm warm here, and I'm still tired, and I bet it'll be grey and cold and rainy outside...where's the freakin' sun....grumble, grumble, cough, cough...oh great, now I'm probably coming down with a cold, just what I need right now...I've gotta get up though, or I'll be late...well, maybe just a few more minutes of warm rest in these blankets--maybe those hibernating animals have a point? But I've got to gat up...grumble, grumble...maybe go down for some some tea and cereal now", etc., etc.)

I've been writing more ecology of economics (or economics of ecology) stuff. Like this : People and Other Commodities 5: Have You Heard?. It's actually based on a monologue I did last May at an environmentally themed soiree. The good thing about is that while it contains topical material, the main concept is pretty elastic, so I can keep updating it- I've changed it a couple of times already. Ah, recycling....

I dedicate it to a friend of mine whose comments were part of the inspiration for it. Sometimes we see each other, sometimes we don't, but either way her inspiration stays with me from the times we have spent together.

Still tired, but differantly this time

I'm tired today because last night I went to a spoken word event- I stayed only for part of it. Either poets and poetry fans can make do with less sleep than me, or they don't work 9-5. To be fair, I was already run down from my earlier insomnia. Anyway, it was good to get more connected into that scene, because I'd like to get into reading. I like to write and I like to perform. I love it when poetry becomes sound. To me, poetry is sound- even when I read it silently to myself, I'm hearing the sounds of words playing off each other. "Words playing"- I like that....

Interesting Links

Tired- Insomnia Again

I’ve been having trouble sleeping again. A friend of mine suggested that it might have something to do with the moon. Well, I suppose if the moon causes tides, it’s not so implausible. Perhaps the phase of the moon also explains why people have become so noisy. Some people may not feel like sleeping due to the lunar phase, and may wish to fill the emptiness of their late night lives (not to mention the lives of those around them) with noise. How thoughtful.

Letting Go

After a break from zinemaking, in the past few days I've found myself inspired to gather together stuff, and write new stuff too, having vaguely to do with the topic of "Letting Go". It's a topic that's become rather interesting to me in recent years. Also, last spring some friends of mine who do Playback Theatre did one on that very topic.

This may be coming at a very appropriate time for me. Or not. I don't want to jinx it or anything.

One problem about publishing things is that once they're published, they're published- I can't go back and change them anymore. Or I can, but it will be a differant version from the printed version, which can't be changed (unless I put out a new, altered edition). One piece I published that I was thinking of performing was a story about getting calls from a 1-800 number, but I found myself changing it to make it more interesting performance-wise. I ended up dropping it from my planned performance, but I like the new version better than the old. What a pity I already published it. Mind you, I had to fit the published version into a certain space, and the new version wouldn't have fitted. Oh well.

Hope

Today I wrote an article (People and Other Commodities 3: Left Behind? ) in reaction to Liberal leadership candidate Bob Rae's comments about the NDP and the left in general. It's part of my new essay series on economics called "People and Other Commodities". I've long been interested in economics- mainly because I'm suspicious of economists. (Don't worry, I know there are some good ones out there!)

I guess I feel more confortable with this topic than I do with the Middle East, which has dominated my political blog so far. Emotions run high for many people, especially where Israel and the Palestinians are concerned. I try to speak to what I see as the injustices going on there but I find myself burning out on it from time to time, especially since I'm aware that I'm bound to end up offending many of my friends who are on differant sides of the issue (that is of course if they read what I write- sometimes I hope they won't, although that would seem to negate the purpose of writing it) Anyway, I feel better able to present aspects of political economy with some wit and eloquence without being swayed back and forth by emotional attachments.

I guess that even my most critical political pieces have some hope in them somewhere. There's got to be- otherwise, why write anything about these things? I've no interest in writing post-mortems.

Book Review: My Most Secret Desire by Julie Doucet

This past week I recieved a $50 gift certificate for Paragraphe from QPIRG Concordia in appreciation for my volunteer efforts there (that gift increased my appreciation for QPIRG Concordia). With it I bought two books, A Short History of Almost Everything by Bill Bryson, which I've just started, and My Most Secret Desire, a cartoon book by Julie Doucet. What I didn't realize when I bought it was that most of it is set in Montreal, as Julie Doucet is and has been a Montrealer.

I found it in the graphic novels section of the bookstore, by the way. I suppose "graphic novel" sounds more weighty than "cartoon novel" or "comic book", but basically you've got picture panels in which characters communicate with speech bubbles. Call it what you like.

These cartoons were done between 1989 and 1997, originally appearing in her series Dirty Plotte, and it depicts the rather vivid dreams, nightmares and fantasies of a twentysomething artist in Montreal, trying to make ends meet with other jobs, imagining what it would be like to be a man, having a recurring dream about giving birth to kittens, and so on.

Some of it is unsettling, but a lot of it is funny. For me, the funniest bits are "A Day in Julie Doucet's Life", which depicts just that (hopefully just a bad day, though!) and "The Day I Can't Take It Anymore", her fantasy about going off to live in the wilderness and living with imaginary friends, including a plucked/beheaded chicken named Baxter. This is humour that comes out of some pretty desperate situations.

Some of it is unsettling, but I have to say I admire Doucet's courage- she doesn't censor herself. Before I'd even have got halfway to where she gets to I'd be saying to myself "Do I really want to share this with the world? What would people think of me?", etc., etc. I'm also not sure whether to be envious or grateful that I don't get such vividly memorable dreams. Probably the latter.

Struggle: A Friday and A Saturday

Saturday- Spoke to friends today of some of my troubles, and what I'm going to be doing about them. Change is in the air- I'm writing a lot, and that usually happens in times of transition, where I'm changing gears, or trying to- my poetry often comes out of the clash between the old world dying and the new world being born, emerging out of the carcass of the old, or words to that effect anyway.


Friday- got really depressed- I hit rock bottom as I was heading home from work in the cold cold rain under a darkening grey sky. The ache in me was becoming unbearable.

It had been a difficult week- depressing weather and a tense roomate situation. I ended up speaking to a social worker at the nearby CLSC- I first sought out that service after the shootings at Dawson. I just needed to talk to someone, and I didn't feel ready to talk to any of my friends about it.

It turned out I wasn't in as bad shape as I feared. As I talked I became animated about things that exited me, and I even started cracking jokes! And I realized that although there's a melancholic streak in me, there's also a love for life in me that's vibrant and creative. When the social worker said, in effect "So.... you're not going to commit suicide or anything?" I told her that I've never wanted to, not even in my lowest moments (which is true) and even pronounced an enthusiastic ode to life: "I want to live! I believe there's so much there, it has so much to offer, and I want what it has to offer."

So I know I have what it takes to get through this rough patch.

Steer Well Clear of all Meetings...and other tips for workplace survival

I found this somewhat amusing article in The Guardian (online edition).

"Guy Browning offers 20 top tips for surviving life in the workplace" http://www.guardian.co.uk/g2/story/0,,1924681,00.html

Oh, but I assure you that this has got nothing to do with my current job...well, hardly at all, anyway.

A Virtual Toast- To Meeting Inspiring People!

No spoken word after all!

'Twas cancelled. A shame, but there'll be other chances for me to flaunt my wordsmithery, for what it's worth. (NOTE- Here, Paul manages to cram oddly worded boasting and false modesty into one sentence!)

Some optimism is starting to show through the gloom. Meeting people with good ideas does that for me. Two in the space of less than a week! Meeting new people and getting to know old friends again offers the hope of movement in some positive directions.

I'll be performing spoken word tonight.

By the way, the Tories unveiled their "made in Canada" approach to tackling greenhouse gases today. No doubt many a patriotic Canadian was hoping that the label "Made in Canada" would prove to be a byword for quality. So what a disppointhment to discover that this plan aims to reduce our emissions by 50% between now and 2050(!), without even offering any short-term targets. It would seem that for the Tories, procrastination is a fundamental Canadian value. (more on this at http://in-carcom.blogspot.com/2006/10/tories-green-gift-for-my-old-age-and.html)

Ending With Indian Food

This evening I ended one of my volunteer engagements in a way that felt good- at a volunteer appreciation dinner, with good Indian food, where the conversation flowed as did the wine. It helped to raise my spirits.

My hope is that I can focus my energies a bit better. This is especially important at this time of year, when I tend to be lacking in the energy department.

I still have things to keep me busy though. I have this show I'm doing tommorrow, then I may have a street theatre project with UTIL and maybe a resumption of "Dictatorship of Debt" or its spinoff, "A Golden Opportunity".

Autumn Grey, Autumn Blues

This morning, I walked the long way to work. I experienced the beauty of autumn- the many colours and hues of the leaves, the leaves falling and fallen- an image of beautiful decay.

But despite the beauty that is to be found in the season, it's a difficult time of year for me. It's a time of beauty but also of decay, of fading hopes and dreams that shone so brightly in the spring. The darkness is advancing, days getting shorter- and even much of the daylight time is actually grey.

People often complain about winter, but for me it's usually worse in anticipation. Once it's here I can deal with it, it's the sense of decline that leads to it that's hard to take.

It's always been difficult, although recently there was one year where there was a strong countervailing current of happiness streaming through me for a specific (external) reason. Once that was gone, though, there was trouble.

Which leads me to realize a frightening truth- how dependent I still am on external factors for my happiness.

In a way, it makes sense. I started out by being a rather closed-off person. My opening myself up to the world and to other people also opened me up to these external forces that can bring me joy or sorrow. That's not a bad thing, but don't I need to have a stronger ability to generate my own happiness? Well, I've been working on that too, but- still a ways to go I guess.

I keep working on it. But sometimes, when the darkness hits, the only thing I know to do "is to keep keepin' on/like a bird that flew/tangled up in blue."

Subversive Creation (Time to Save the World Again)

Yesterday, I went to a day-long workshop at the Padua Center that a friend was giving. It was a good chance to see this friend again, meet new people, and maybe get inspired. I did get a poem out of it.

It was about changing ourselves in order to change the world. Change the world? Us? Yes, I'm afraid so. As someone put it in one of the Star Trek movies, "It's time for us to save the Earth again."

I've sometimes thought the title of my zine, Subversive Creation, to be a tad pretentious. But dammit, subversive creation is what we need! People talk about "smashing the system", but the closest they ever get are riots, which only smash shop windows. But fashioning practices and institions that embody alternative ways of seeing things- that's creation that subverts the system.

Destruction without creation is nihilism in action, but what we create can, like plants taking over the cracks in a crumbling concrete pavement, subvert and then take over from a system that cannot be sustained.

A Plug

Perpetual Motion Roadshow #37 - the last Roadshow to hit Montreal until next May!
Thursday Oct. 19, 8 PM (doors at 7:30)
Bibliograph/e, 6091 du Parc (corner Van Horne)
pay-what-you-can

Featuring :

recovering slam poet ELLIOT HARMON from San Francisco!
irreverent guitarist OCHO from Minnesota!
zine-making punk DAVE FRIED from Chicago!
and from Montreal, PAUL BEAULIEU!

About the Roadshow:
The Perpetual Motion Roadshow is an indie press touring circuit, an unholy combination of a vaudevillian variety show and a punk rock tour. Each month, three new lively indie performers pile in a car and do seven cities in eight days, doing shows with the bold guarantee: NO BORING READINGS OR YOUR MONEY BACK! Transnational, it loops the northeast May-October and makes runs down the west coast during November-April. Founded by No Media Kings, we've been making our own fun since 2003 -- running on pure volunteer power and dirty dirty gasoline. www.perpetualmotionroadshow.com

About the performers:
Elliot Harmon is a poet and, more sporadically, an actor, a musician, a playwright, a teacher, a graduate student, and a director. He grew up in South Dakota and developed national recognition through the Omaha poetry-slam scene. Since then, he's been featured at numerous readings and slams across the Western U.S. His allusions to Brecht and Chekhov (not to mention his San Francisco street address) do little to hide his true country-boy poetic sensibilities. His backpack includes several copies of his two chapbooks, Luke, Don't Settle! and Summer of the Pterodactyl, and his CD, But You Don't Understand.

Ocho has been performing original songs for almost ten years. His songs reflect a mind that's upbeat, thoughtful, irreverent, frustrated, and inspired. They give the listener something to laugh at, like the futility of survival in the modern world, and the lack of answers to important life questions: "What's our ultimate purpose?" and "How can I make money without really DOING anything?" At 16, he unwittingly started a punk-rock scene in a rural South Dakota town that still thrives. He recently received his Master's degree in counseling psychology. His latest CD, "GoriillaBuddha," explores the stupidity and healing power of that science.

Dave Fried has lived in Chicago, Illinois for the past nine years. His favorite things in life include (in some order of importance): eating tacos, riding bikes, d-beat punk, and bowling. He'll most likely want to try the regional food in your area. He made his first zine in 1994 after reading about Riot Grrrl, making the connection between punk and zines. He writes the queerpunk perzine Black Carrot and helps fill the void with Grilled Tuna Tape distro. If you ever want to get his blood moving, put on some Finnish Hardcore, offer a coffee and take him bowling.

A Montreal Paul is a Montreal writer and performer. His poems, songs and monologues are sometimes ridiculous, sometimes sublime, and often unsure of where they're ending up on that spectrum until it's too late. Topics include: paper, coffee, the Kyoto Accord, absent-mindedness and the philosophical implications of recieving serial silent phone calls from a charity.

Mostly Harmless

I was having this phone conversation:

Me: I've been kind of irritable today, but at least I think I made it through the day without snapping at anyone.

Friend: Snapping?

Me: Yes...

Friend: Really? I can't picture you snapping at anyone.

Me: You think I'm just this nice guy? I've got a friend or two who could tell you stories about me.

Just kidding. Hopefully my friend or two won't be telling those stories about me. I'm sorry, my friend or two.

These Pictures and More

I just developed my roll of film. I keep thinking of getting a digital camera, but I'm a bit reluctant, as long as my old camera's still working.

Pictures added to old entries:

http://a-mtl-paul.blogspot.com/2006/09/im-back-i-feel-much-better_115920834000178170.html

http://a-mtl-paul.blogspot.com/2006/08/greetings-from-gasp-business-has.html

In Praise of Praise?

I was at a birthday party for my mother this weekend. I said something that I can't even quite remember and she said "Paul, that's quite poetic." And then my dad said, "but don't you know, he writes poetry."

I probably should have said "Why yes, I do.", or something like that. InsteadI felt uncomfortable.

I have an ambivilent attitude towards having people pay attention to me. There was a time when my ambition seemed to be to not be noticed. Thankfully, those days are past, but I still feel not totally comfortable with being the centre of attention. So I probably don't take advantage of opportunities to present my work to people like I could. But doing theatre has brought out the attention seeker in me. I've seen pictures from shows where I'm clearly revelling in the spotlight. And of course, if I were a shrinking violet I wouldn't have a blog.
This ambivilence has come up lately with an added dimension, with people (still!) coming up to me and telling me that they saw me on TV coming out of Dawson. It attracted some nice attention from people being supportive. But still...it feels strange.

I also don't take praise terribly well- it's not that I don't like it, I just don't know how to respond to or even digest it. I feel awkward. Again, a couple of friends have said that I write great poetry and I haven't been sure how to process that. I'm not great with critisism either. The problem of course is that for me to have any kind of impact as an artist I'll need to seek attention and be able to take compliments and criticism. Without compliments or criticism, all that's left is indifferance.

At this same party, someone who's recently put on a play said that he was pleased that the last show was sold out, but he was also pleased that two people walked outduring the performance. "At least I'm getting a reaction", he said. How true.







Note the attention seeker at the front of this group shot...

Stronger than Ever

I just wrote an article about the most difficult period of my life, which I’m going to submit for a Quebec Writers’ Federation publication. Writing it made me realize just how far I’ve come in the last three years. Whatever problems I may have now, fundamentally I'm much more alive than I was then- far more resiliant. I'm still trying to figure out what to do with the new possibilities this has given me, but at least they're there.

It's good that the weekend is here. I can take things easier, although I still have some writing to do. One problem is that I don't feel very inspired. Last spring, it was like I couldn't keep up with everything that was coming to me. Now I have an event to perform at two weeks from now, and I need to work on a script for a possible theatre project. Poems are starting to come to me again, but I was hoping to write a monologue for the 19th, like one I did in early May, but differant. But I guess it's not happening. Anyway, I have lots of material. I'm just not sure what to use.

Why Aren't Guys More Interesting?

OK, this is a provocative title- and a big generalization. Actually, I have a number of male friends who are quite interesting. Yet I remember going to a friend's party once and most of the people who showed up were guys- I spent most of the evening trying to pretend to be interested. I tend to find it easier to relate to women than to men- we seem to be more on the same wavelegnth. It may be a matter of temperment. I guess this is why I've tended to hang out in mostly-female places, like library school and libraries and the non-profit sector.

There's been a downside to this: what interests me about women as friends can also cause me to be interested in them in other ways. Dealing with having such feelings for people who are already friends hasn't always been easy- there's always a part of me that says "I'm quite happy with being her friend. Why put that at risk?" But if such feelings get serious and I don't say anything it can lead to confusion and misunderstandings. Can? It has, and worse. Hell, even if it doesn't get serious there can be confusion and misunderstandings- let the wrong ideas go skipping idly through your head too many times, and it's like you might as well be having serious intentions once you've started giving out the wrong impression of what your intentions are. And then, navigating my way through friendships- through the impressions and vibes coming at me and emanating from me- seems too often to have become really complicated. Complications- who needs them? How can I ever be simple again?

But enough of such laments. It's a beautiful day outside. The long weekend is just around the corner. A time for family and friends- and for us to be good friends to ourselves by taking it easy. Enjoy!

There's too much on my mind, and there's nothing I can say/
There's too much on my mind, and there's nothing I can do/ about it"
(Ray Davies, "Too Much on My Mind"- from Face to Face by The Kinks)

Or how about this one from Bob Dylan: I got a headful of ideas that are drivin' me insane

You know, I should write a skit in which the characters speak using only lines from songs. Or wait- has that already been done?

My tastes in music are maybe a bit "old fashioned" Never mind about music from the '60s, I also like music from the 1600's! It's all good. Well, not necessarily, but there are so many possible angles on the art of making pleasing sounds that add up to some coherent piece- as short as a song, or as long as an opera.

As for what's on my mind- perhaps I've done all I can do about it. Maybe I've no power to deal with it, except to surrender to it and thereby no longer struggle with it. Perhaps if I cease to struggle it will get bored and go away. (There's something irresistable about the drama of conflict.) All I can do is be as true to myself as I can be, and take the consequences- a song for the occasion running through my head.

I've Been Travelin'

well, just to Quebec City for a meeting and then back. I've been travelling more lately thanks to my job, and also thanks to my job, I have a steady income, some of which can be spent on travelling for fun. Speaking of which: when I told a friend about this little trip, he said that he enjoys being in other places, "It's getting to them that's a pain in the arse." I tend to agree, although last summer's trip out east was an exception- destinations were less important- I was enjoying going through places to get to other places. The weather being gorgeous sure helped though.

Aaarghhh...computers!

Please indulge me a moment while I complain about the computers in my life.

For all the failings that people have (myself included of course), I wonder- maybe it's just me, but I find computers more unreliable than people. However hard it may to explain to people what it is you want, with a computer it's harder because it has no real intelligence, but it has the illusion of one, which makes me frustrated. I wonder why the computer isn't doing what I'm asking it to do- well, because the computer doeesn't "know" what I'm asking to do, of course. But there are so many differant variables at work in a computer at the same time that although a computer is not a person, it can still be unpredictable. What works one time doesn't work the next.

But the worst thing is that if I try to do a document on more than one computer, invariably, the formatting gets messed up. Like when I do these zines I've been doing, or documents at work. I've lost count of how many times I've had to readjust the typeface, the text size, the spacing...in one thing I wanted to present a poem creatively on the page, with diferant typefaces and creative spacing....what a nightmare that was.

I suppose a computer is still an improvement on the old fashioned typewriter. I think the first person I heard swearing was my dad, typing out his physics textbooks, as he realized he'd made a mistake and would have to go back and redo a section. His swearwords were in French, but since he was classically educated they weren't the ones you'd expect- the ones having to do with the Catholic mass. Funny, Quebecois swearwords are about religion, while English ones are mostly about sex and bodily functions. No doubt many people have done cultural studies theses on such matters....

Took part in an attempt at a press conference today, about the cuts to adult literacy, but no media showed, in part because of the disaster in Laval. That event, along with some others, recent and not so recent, inspired me to write my first poem (or piece of creative writing, for that matter) in weeks- could be said to be morbid, but it's true, the end could come at any time. We just can't allow that thought to immobilize us, but rather try to enjoy life while we can. Not always easy, but it's always worth a try- and actually there are many shining moments to be enjoyed, even if they are snatched from the jaws of dark times.

Hmmm...let's see, what did I do this past week?

Monday- Went to a long board meeting. Yes, I'm a director at a non-profit organization.Not as glamorous as it sounds, but we did get great vegetarian pizza and very colourful cupcakes (the icing was something to behold). There was a lot of trying to make senseof finances, a task that we were actually patting ourselves on the back for being able to follow, but we got sillier as the evening progressed. "What are in these cupcakes?", someone asked as we were giggling at nothing in particular. If there were any illicit substances, at least they helped us see the humour in budgeting- no mean feat.

Unfortunately, there's little fun and games in "Canada's New Government's exercise in budgeting today, where they make cuts in areas that they think few Canadians actually care about, like adult literacy programs. Since I work in the field of literacy this could be a problem, although at least my organization has a three year contribution agreement, so we're (probably) safe.

Tuesday- After the long board meeting on Monday, my accumulated tiredness was becoming burdensome. This was a rest evening. I got quite a lot of sleep actually.

Wednesday- Promptly squandered the sleep gains I'd made the night before. I Went to this event about the war in Lebanon, that ended up starting at 8:30 and goingpast 11. The event was rather one-sided, but then so was the war (in the other direction).Mind you, I probably would have had trouble sleeping anyway, as I'd been a bit rattled by a false alarm at work.

Thursday- What did I do on Thursday? Oh yes- had a meeting for doing a dinner theatre production this year. But there doesn't seem to be enough people who are interested, and I'm actually not going to be too sorry if it doesn't happen, as I've got other creative things in mind.

Friday- Depressing news at work about the effects of the government cutbacks on our sector. The Tories seem to think that low-literacy adults are beyond redemption, so spending money on them is wasteful. Curse Canada's New Government!

Saturday- Went out to work in an organic vineyard (said to be the only one in Quebec!). It was actually a beautiful day this time. I think it would be good to find a way to do this sort of work on a more regular basis, at least during the farming season next year. Tasted some wines and got a small bottle of wine for my labour.