The Sweetest Boy

Had supper with L tonight. What a gal! Yet another friend to add to the 'You're so smart.. why are you talking to me?' list. We talked about all these cool projects we wanted to do. She's pretty much on board with my film journal idea. She's got an idea for an image-project involving this year's class of upandcomers. She also wants me to be in a portrait project she's doing (which P also did). She's still talking about the American road trip, but I'm making too many commitments here to be able to leave. Besides, the city is the best at that time of year. The time before it gets too hot.

We had a pretty excited conversation. One side of me wanted to spend the whole night talking about P, but another side of me wanted to avoid this cliché, and that's the side that won. It turns out they are not as close as I thought. I'm not sure what kind of friend I thought P was, but I often assume people are like me (always giving too much information). The more I think of it (which I'm trying not to) the more I think he's quite reserved. He seems like a 'everything's gonna be fine - brush it off' kind of guy. I mean, ultimately it's all about attitude and he probably has a better attitude about things. I guess what it comes down to is, if in a time of crisis (which hopefully will not happen any time soon) our attitudes will work together.

There's a part of me that's hoping his positivity will rub off on me. That I will become a little less affected by things than I used to be. I think this has happened even before him, though it seems to coincide with his presence.

There's a little part of me that would be scared that his easy-going attitude would turn into indifference which would ultimately breed drama in me. I think I know myself well enough to make that extrapolation.

Anyway, this whole situation is not very stressful. Or at least, I can't let these hypothetical scenarios get to me. I think somehow I set them up, and fall into them. This is part of the reason why I am hesitant towards learning about his past relationship. L mentioned P once opened up about his past relationship and assumed I knew: 'Il t'a parlé de Eileen?' 'Non.. non.. pas du tout'. I'm worried that knowing what went wrong will become a self-fulfilling prophecy. At this point I would sort of going on feeling how I feel, thinking what I think, and letting these things develop independent of previous situations.

I mean, not only with regard to his ex-relationship, but also in regards to mine. I don't want to repeat my past relationship problems. I feel like talking about them risks reviving them, when in a way, I feel like I've moved past them. Or, I guess the adult thing to think is that you've moved past them when it's not a big deal to talk about them. My goal is to be stable.

But then again, I do tend to freak out about these things way more than they are worth freaking out for. For example, I was dreading having a conversation with my dad the other day. But when he brought up the fact that we hadn't talked since xmas, and wondered if anything was wrong, I knew I had a choice to make. I could pretend everything was fine and go on repressed as usual, or I could say that something was wrong, but I didn't know what it was but I knew it was related to some resentment, and other growing pains. Thankfully, I did the latter, and the conversation was fine. I didn't get excited or scared. I stayed somewhat removed and calm and I left the conversation feeling a little bit lighter.

My mom always told me that when it came to my dad, I should let him wear these feelings I'm feeling, because all they do is weigh me down for nothing.

To end on a bright note, as I was leaving gchat P said to me: 'sweetest of dreams to the sweetest girl, who happens to be so sweet to me'. He's the sweetest. He's the best kind of sweeteness.

Back to the Pool

I've been going to the pool again and feeling much better health-wise. Somehow, cancelling my membership to the Y (I felt pretty silly when I found out 'Free Swim' was 'Free') has reinvigorated my will to swim.

It's quite cool, now I can swim pretty consistently for about 20-30 minutes. By that I mean, before I used to take a two minute break after every lap, but now I just pace myself and try to keep a consistent rhythm. I've been going more regularly. My sleep schedule is still out of wack, but hopefully I'll get back on track soon. Speaking of back on track, I'm going to get back on the bike! Starting... tomorrow?

I'm going to try and write up two essays, pronto. I've decided to stop putting pressure on myself to do well.



I'm going to have supper with P's friend L on thursday. Man, we are just mixing and matching friends like crazy! It's wonderful.

Constantly Surprised

This is how it feels being with P.

With You with Me with Everyone We Know

Went to breakfast with Mchl, P, and Vncnt.

After breakfast, we talked about making a film together (Mchl and I). P contributed some good food for thought. I felt slightly silly talking about it in front of him, mostly because he is past these preliminary conception stages, he probably has notebooks full of ideas, and I think he's more interested in telling stories. Anyway, one of his questions was: What interests you in making this film? A good question. One I had never really thought about. After providing some half-answers, I later came up with the answer I find most true, and most satisfactory: I want to make something to capture the moment I am living, so that later, I can come back to it and it will evoke memories.

After that we hung around the living room and talked about the Internet, media platforms, etc. I expressed my anxiety about relying on things like the Internet or new platforms, because really, how can we know how long they will last? Shouldn't we take for granted that these things are temporary? I feel myself going back to older values about connecting with people, expressing one's self and documenting these expressions. (She says while writing on her temporary blog -- but this is precisely why I often think about printing out emails, and now, these posts.)

The conversation was enlightening. I'm getting more comfortable with being 100% myself and expressing my opinions in front of P, because he's so accepting of the things I say (and the sometime weird ways I say them). It was easy too, aided by Sm and Mchl's presence.

I feel happy and full of love and enthusiasm and creativity and thought. (If only I had a little bit more motivation to get myself to do something with all these things...)

In the meantime, this Sophia Coppola video makes me happy:

Just a Quick Hello

I have not been working nearly as much as I should be. (This seems to be a recurring theme for me...) Instead, I've been happy and tonight, baking! Delicious Chocolate-Orange muffins (which turned out gorgeous! Food-blog worthy!)

Maybe if I list my work, it'll help me to cross it off this imaginary list, since my agenda doesn't seem to be working (for social activities yes, but academic activities, no):

1. Two more Chinese cinema journals

2. Research / Write Chinese cinema essay (1200-1500 words)

3. Research / Write Film Directors essay (potential topics: Cassavetes, the Authorship debate Kael-Sarris, etc.) (2000 words)

4. Research /Write English Canadian Cinema essay (1500-2000 words)

5. Research / Write Film History / Miranda July essay (3500 words) (topic: the death of the master-narrative, meta-criticism, films and companionship, representation of youth)

There are so many things I want to say about how wonderful people are, and how lucky I feel for having you all around, but I think people are getting sick of my !!! mood (in a nice way.. I hope).

I'm running for Film Studies FASA ambassador. Going up to 25 random people and asking them for signatures to support me was a nightmare. I dreaded it for a week. Hopefully I will get it done Monday, submit it, and get on the road to planning my next year. I always start doing that before the present year is completed... maybe that's.. not a good thing.

In other news, I've stopped wanting so much. Sure it's probably because I'm broke, but I'm convinced the quasi-zen state I've reached is making me more satisfied with what I have. A film I saw recently made me stop wanting. I think it was Confessions of a Shopaholic (which is pretty bad -- don't ask me why I went to see it, much less why it had an effect on me). There was so much materialism in the film, it just turned me off. I had that fast-living, shop-til-you-drop attitude for a long time (even though I never had the money for it), but now, it really seems silly. Whats more is, every time I go to NB, I go to thrift stores, and find things that are so much more interesting.

I don't think one is supposed to mix 3.25% and Skim milk together (as I have just done, to eat with my muffin).. it sort of.. separates.

This is one of my favourite pics of Cuba. Me, in my 'gah!' pose. That trip... what a trip.

Mtl Boy of My Dreams

Us, looking for yogurt.

He:

Aww.. I don't want this stuff. I wanted Rasberry. (Disapointed)

She (looking around in the open-top refrigerator):

What about that one?

(Points to Fruits de Champs)

He (grabs the yogurt enthusiastically and drops it in the cart):

Ah! I love you!

She:

(Silent)

He:

uhh... I meant the yogurt.

------------------------- o --------------------------

(Disclaimer: this is a long one, and as the title suggests, it's full of snuggly details, not for the faint of heart)

For the past two-three weeks I've been having a love dilemna, that is, how and when to say 'ILY' to P. I've felt it for a long time. I believe I felt something even before we met, I believe I remembered him for a reason. He said something along the ILY lines a number of weeks ago, and said the real thing a few weeks ago. I didn't reply in the moment, because I didn't want to use such a statement frivolously.

Let me begin by saying that I feel slightly conventional when saying ILY and meeting the family mean something, but for some reason, because it's with P, it doesn't feel conventional, it just feels like I feel. I did feel nervous meeting his family because I was a little caught off guard, I didn't expect it so soon, I didn't expect him to be so open, etc. Same goes for the declaration. I don't know why but I didn't expect him to be the way he is. So I am always surprised. It's a strange and wonderful feeling.

Back to the issue at hand. I didn't want to make my declaration during a physically intimate moment; I wanted the commingling of feeling and rational to be free from hormonal influence. So at some point when I had his face in my hands, I said: "P", he said "yeah", I said: "Je t'aime", (killer 2 seconds of silence), he said: "j't'aime aussi".

A few weeks ago, I had a brief conversation with Agns about whether to say it in english or in french. She said something along the lines of whichever language I expressed it in it would indicate which language really carried the weight of the words and the feeling. (This is a paraphrase, only because I couldn't find the gchat in which we discussed it, but this is the feeling I got). So then I thought, 'Okay, I'll say it in english (it's easier somehow) Then I thought.. Adl.. you can't take the easy way out on this one.' So I decided I would say it in french. He said it in french, so, I think french is weight-y for us.

Now I am feeling the weight. I said it. He said it. I think it's supposed to feel a little awkward and uncomfortable. And that it did. I don't really feel like throwing the word around, but I guess that's what happens when you reach a certain level of comfort as a couple.

Something strange happenned to me in the last few months. I don't think I wrote about it, because it was so strange. I was at school, or at work, not thinking about anything, not love, not friends, not anything. Then I thought of Vnss and about how we say we love each other often. Then I thought how those words weren't enough with her. They had lost their meaning somehow. It wasn't bad. I later spoke to her about it. But it was the first time I felt the words not carry the weight of their meaning.

I now think a lot about the 'us' now. We cooked together (like really together the other day), and I saw some parts in me that can be a little nervous (what size to cut the vegetables), a little insistant (I firmly believe in covering the rice, and leaving it covered) and a little 'telling' rather than 'suggesting'. A few seconds after the fact, I would realize this. I know it's not a big deal but it's not true to how I feel. So I want to stop doing such things. Furthermore, P has such confidence in me that he rarely tells me how to do something, or implies I'm doing something incorrectly.

It's funny, I was reading my Vanity Fair the other night. There's a 'My Desk' page that usually features some famous person's desk with captions talking about the objects on the desk. Last month was Peter Jackson. I thought of P when I saw it, because he had been reading about Jackson when we started dating. P's always reading about film. Taking books from the library. It's quite awesome. Anyway, I thought I would cut it out and give it to him. I forgot, but when he was here this weekend, I remembered. I showed him and he got super excited. I cut it out for him and he put it in a folder.

Spending friday night, saturday all day, and sunday morning together was the most time we have spent together so far. It was awesome.

You Make My Pupils Dilate

So the last few days have been amazing. Since I got back from Cuba I've been having these overwhelming 'people are fascinating' feelings. For some reason the trip reinvigorated my faith in humanity. It's not that people there were particularly good or interesting, or that I got to know anyone on a more than superficial level (though the Marxist borders on friend level).

Maybe it's because everyone seems really happy now. The weight of winter is lifting ever so slightly, and bodies are moving, the blood is beginning to be pumped into the veins of the city.

Maybe it's because I feel full of questions, and I'm less scared of asking them. I must admit, even though I am very comfortable with my friends, sometimes I feel uncomfortable asking questions I think are too obvious, or weird, or boring. More and more I realize that if I use these as starting points, and I forget about being scared, I will be able to have much more meaningful conversations with people.

It keeps hitting me like a tonne of bricks how brilliant all the people around me are. I've always know this, but it's amazing when you feel it.

I shouldn't ruin these good thoughts with what I'm about to write, but, it's a recurring feeling, so I gotta get it off my mind so I can move on.

Okay. So. Sometimes, I feel like a fraud. I feel constantly amazed by the brilliance of the people around me and I wonder, how they hell did they become my friends? And when I talk to them about school projects and they contribute such incredible insight, I think 'gee, that person is so incredibly smart, I wish I could return them the favor somehow' but then I think, 'nah.. they're way beyond me, there's nothing I can do for them besides make cynical jokes'.

I had a (somewhat stressful) conversation with Sm the other night. I was writing my Tarkovsky paper (struggling to anyway) and we started talking about my future grad school plans. Something was said like 'why don't you make films?' or something along those lines and I said 'because I know I would never be good enough to make something I would think is good'. Then he would say stuff like 'you can do anything you want to do if you try hard enough'. And I was convinced that that wasn't necessarily true. I try to be realist about most things in life (even though previous blog posts would beg to differ) and I'm not trying to be modest when I believe wholeheartedly that there are some thing I just couldn't be good at. I base this on the fact that I (and most other people) have standards; standards that means a job is well done, and I think if it's not well done, it's not worth doing.

Anyway, this is more about me feeling inferior to the intelligence of my friends. I don't know why I feel that way -- clearly it is something that comes from inside me. I don't know how to get to the place where this deep insecurity is buried.

Tonight in class, our professor read aloud some of the feedback he got by email about the previous week's film (A Woman Under the Influence -- which everyone should see). I had sent him an email, making associations to other films (Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?; Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore -- also worth seeing) and had discussed this with P since he's in the class too. When the prof was reading them, I was in awe. Utterly in awe. They were so well written, so thoughtful, so eloquent. P nudged my leg once or twice, I glanced over at him quickly, but I was so mesmerized by what I was hearing, I couldn't really acknowledge him. Then he whispered 'that one was mine' and my eyes shot a glance at him. Jealous? Probably. I mean, I knew he was smart, but I didn't know he was brilliant.

He's got so much creative energy flowing it's amazing. He's so well spoken and he reads a lot. He takes books out of the library all the time (speaking of which, I got a 60$ fine. Libraries hate me) and reads them. He always trying to figure things out, trying to make things better.

It's also cool because I sat with his friend L (a pretty girl director) in a class we're both in. She asked me: 'hey, est-ce que P est frustré ces jours ci? je le sens un peu chepas trop..' My first instinct was: what are you talking about girl? He's great! but then I thought, no wait, that's going to make me seem like I don't know anything that's going on in his life. So I said: 'Peut-etre qu'il est un peu stressé. Je sais que son screenwriting class l'énerve un peu.. mais j'sais pas trop non plus' and that seemed like a satisfactory answer. What it made me realise is how much he keeps his work/school frustration separate from me (besides funny things of course) and how awesome that is. I used to think it was better to be completely involved in every facet of your partner's life. I would feel sad if they didn't tell me everything about everything. But now, I realize that this mini separation is kind of good. It prompts me to do the same, which is doubly good, because I do have a tendency to talk, talk and over talk these things thereby putting some unnecessary weight on other people's shoulders.

He treats me so well, and makes me feel so secure that I feel no need to know everything about everything about someone, as if that guaranteed me some sort of importance in their lives. I think that's what I used to do with Vncnt. I would see him often and talk daily. P I see twice per week and talk daily (usually gchat -- and we surprisingly don't talk that much).

This calm is amazing. Me not talking and not neuroticizing about everything is amazing. I wish everyone could meet him.

For now though, this image I landed on tonight, expresses exactly how I feel about each and every one of you.

It's All Hip-Hop to Me Now

Look at this:



Doesn't he look like he's wearing a hoody, pursing his lips, raising his chin and saying: 'Wassup?'

Mchl adds that the thing in his hand is his pirated dvd version of He's Just Not that Into You which he is trying to sell you: "7 RUB, 12 CAD, 10 CUCs, let's make a deal."

My image of Tarkovsky has been forever altered.

A Certain Calm

Four words: happy and in love.

That's how I feel. I don't want to get all mushy, but, considering how long it took me to get here, I think it deserves a little recognition. I remember feeling like this would never happen, I was prepping myself for a long, lonely life. I settled with the idea of never getting over the past, always holding a grudge which would ultimately only hold me back. But man, this whole 'living in the present' thing was a good starting point for being happy.

Things with P are going really well. I met approx. 20 members of his family the other day (after arriving from Cuba and not having slept in 40 some hours). His family is amazing. His parents are amazing. His sister is amazing. He is amazing. It's all amazing. We had brunch, we played billiards (yes -- billiards, and his mom said I was good), I was awkward a little bit, but he was awesome. He introduced me as his 'blonde' to someone, I thought that was cute. I've never been called someone's blonde.

On Thursday, I went over to his house after work and he talked about his family. He grew up in what seems to be a pretty perfect family (supportive, creative, intelligent parents, good friends from good families, etc). I didn't talk about my family. I'm not sure why, I think I might be a little embarrassed. I mean, when we watched Cassavestes' Woman Under the Influence the other day in class, I kept thinking 'this feels familiar'. Today, when I think about my family, I think about my mom. Her as my whole family (but then also friends I consider like family). I hesitate to talk about my family because I don't know where to start. Do I start from the beginning, or do I start from the point when my mom and I started having a real relationship?

It makes me uncomfortable even thinking about talking about my childhood. I'm not sure how to deal with that.

...

I've been thinking a lot about what sort of couple P and I are/will be. Being with him has made me see how much I've grown up since my past relationships. I feel so calm and safe. It's amazing how little needs to be said. I feel the opposite of scared, which is a really nice place to be.

His friends are planning a month long roadtrip around the states this summer. Right now, I'm feeling like I need to be responsible and stay in the city and work until my contract ends in July, but in my head I'm still making mini itineraries. It's a nice idea to entertain. Either way, I would like to do something like that with him this summer, even if it's just going to the Maritimes.

Cuba gave me this idea about spending a month or so in the middle of nowhere, totally disconnected from reality, thinking and clearing my brain. Since I got back I've felt the weight of the city. I need to get that off so that I can do good in my final year, and feel ready for graduate school.

This morning I had breakfast with Vnss and Lv. I've been having such wonderful breakfasts since getting back. I feel so happy and lucky to have all these great people around me. I remember last year, I felt like things couldn't possibly get better. In some ways, this year has shot the ball out of the park (though, if certain peeps were here instead of elsewhere (IL, GA, NJ, NB, ON, etc) it would likely be awesome overload).

Maybe maybe maybe...

Is it Pork? Is it Chicken? Is it Fish? Who Knows!? : or How I Could Have Had a Latin Lover

I'm back from my two weeks in Cuba. It was absolutely wild, and clichéd in all its glory. I kept a journal and wrote in it everyday, because this is what will be evaluated, so i've got lots of stuff to say, but it's not all interesting.

To sum up: Went to Havana which is dirty and falling apart, but also charming and warm. All the Cuba I saw looked like it had 200 years of perma-grime on it The cars are from the fifties (Chevys, Dodges and Ladas), and the shops are very discreet, most of them carry hair products and soaps. The food was unbelievably bad, but by the end, some things grew on me. Things were cheap, but not very enticing. The film culture there is amazing. You can see a film for about $.50 CAN. The people aren't particularly friendly, but I suppose they don't have to be. The beach we went to was like paradise. Turquoise water and all. I went in and it was awesome. There were guards everywhere, surveying everything. It was creepy, but they were usually nice.

The school was in the middle of nowhere, and it was absolutely refreshing to be cut off from civilization. People talk to each other, they lounge around, they work hard, they are generally really friendly. The first few days I was sort of out of it, since I had a bad cold, but when I regained my strength, I got to know a few people. Notably a certain Marxist who is the Latin equivalent of Mchl, with less math and more politics. He is absolutely brilliant, he knows all movies from everywhere, all the lyrics to american classics and is nice and un-intimidating to boot. We went for a walk one evening, it was sunset, it could have been totally romantic, but obviously, it couldn't be.

I was stressed by his liking me, so I sort of avoided him for 3.5 days. Then, the guilt. The guilt! I felt bad about treating someone so kind so poorly. Every time I saw him, I felt bad. It consumed me for a few days. Then later at a party we spoke again and broke the ice. The last night was the crazyest. The whole time I was in Cuba I partied like I've never partied before (dancing wildly, staying up until 5.30am, you name it), but the last night we were required to stay up all night. So we did. The Marxist, another girl and myself sort of stuck together (she had my back so as to avoid awkwardness). At some point we went to his room to listen to traditional cuban music (the wonderful Bola de Nieve) with other people and not long after they left, I said, we should head back. As we were walking back, he said 'we should go back to my room' and I said 'oh, I can't do that' and he asked why not and I said I had someone in Canada. Then he said he was jealous of this person, then he talked about living in the moment (trying to convince me -- obviously) and asked if he could kiss me. I said no and when he kept insisting, I said I didn't want to do anything that would put me in a bad situation and then he said ok because he didn't want to put me in a bad situation. The rest of the night was sort of awkward, but I was getting too tired to do anything about it. After breakfast, he walked me and another girl home. He came in our apartment after I told him I had something to give him (a kind of notebook I use) and then he gave me hugs and kisses on the cheek. Then he tried to kiss me, but I wouldn't let him. I said no. I could feel him shaking a little bit as he hugged me. He said: 'this is harder than I thought', and as we were parting he said 'you smell nice. I want to remember how you smell'. Then he left.

I was all hot inside. I sat down and cried a little bit. I cried because I felt guilty. I felt guilty because I didn't like him as much as he liked me. I think I was also crying because it is sort of a stressful place to be holding someone's heart in your hands, and then it was a relief that it was over. I think we might keep in touch, but with such things, one never knows.

Overall the trip was an amazing experience. I thought a lot about art, art history, film culture, cuban film, guerrilla cinema, and maybe making a film.

This is a picture one of my classmates took. My pictures were 35mm, so I need a little time to get them developed. In the meantime, here's a shot of Havana.