The weather is mostly nice, if temperamental. Everything but daffodils is in blossom. Daffodils have disappeared until next March. My personal duckling count remains at two. My personal gosling count remains at zero. On the other hand, I have massively progressed with Pokémon Go and my need to see tiny cute living creatures should really be satisfied.More
In retrospect, this week has been a half-conscious attempt at self-care and quiet calm. What is happening in the world — in America, with Trump giving out Executive Orders for all things evil, in Russia, with the Parliament decriminalising domestic violence, in Canada, with a deadly attack on a mosque etc. — is so devastatingly horrible that a need for a safe space, physical and mental, becomes real. To quote my tweet, ‘I never had to work this hard on suspension of disbelief when reading the news before. Fuck this shit.’More
2017 started with working on a number of resolutions I inherited from 2016. Running through the woods, admiring the scenery and hoping my phone is not about to die and taking pictures remains a possibility, I thought about this and that. ‘This’ included finally doing a half-marathon, and ‘that’ stood for all the books I should read and a couple that I should write. I have got big plans for you, 2017. Bring it on.
Bringing it on is sponsored by excessive schedules, perseverance, matcha lattes, friends, Protestant work ethic, and kindness — towards yourself, the others, and the world.More
November in Oxford can be bright, but also gloomy and dreary if it is raining, with the cold seeping through coats and wet shoes, inside your pockets, into your soul, until it reaches the embarrassing childhood secrets. To prevent that from happening, the locals have mastered the art of layering, piling on up to four types of tweed. Alternatively, one can plan their route to never stray too far from a pub, which in Oxford comes naturally.More
Lost at Sea is a road-movie kind of a book, with us following high-school graduate Raleigh and her accidental companions on their trip from California back to Toronto. By the end of the novel we are still on the road, maybe in Oregon (no one has been reading the map), and that is one of those stark illustrations to McLuhan’s ‘medium is the message’. As suggested by the title, the lack of direction is something that is acutely felt by Raleigh in regards to her life and can be recognised by anyone who managed to survive adolescence.More