Who's Your Master?

Being of Eastern European origin, I tend to be opinionated.
However, due to my upbringing in Canada, I have been able to actually see other peoples points.

Historically, romantic marriage is relatively young.
Maybe only a century or so old.
Prior to this, marriage was essentially a business arrangement. Women were not much more than chattel, in some cultures less than.

So, the idea of arranged marriage to me, as a modern woman is foreign.
Although, in my mothers dreams, she certainly would have liked to have had the power to choose a husband for me, regardless of the fact that she sucked at choosing one for herself.

The year before last, I taught ESL courses in child development.
Many of my students were of Far Eastern descent.
During our discussions around family, and children, I had the opportunity to ask some questions of women who (most of which) were in arranged marriages.
The women I spoke to were pragmatic, and grew up knowing the score where their marriages and lives would be concerned.
The more I spoke with them, the more I understood where in the right circumstances, an arranged marriage had more of a chance to survive than a "love" marriage.

Love marriages are full of emotion, and "I wants".
It's about what makes us happy personally, without the support and pressure of family expectations.
It's not so much about sacrifice, family, compatibility in life, expectations, and level of life.
While I was thinking about this, I ran across this entry at "Procrastination" from 2003 arguing the pros and cons of arranged marriage.
It's an interesting discussion, and while I'm too conditioned to accept the concept of arranged marriage for myself, I can certainly see it's merits.

It's an interesting discussion.

While arranged marriage is not for me (too late for that anyway), I can see the point.
The same way that I can see the point of women who wear Hajib and say that they are more free than women who dress in contemporary clothing because they are not slaves to fashion and fad.

But in the end, we're all slaves.
Be it to fashion, religion, family, or to love.
It all depends on who your master is, no?

Another Roadside Memorial

I kind of like roadside memorials.

I remember as a child driving by them in the former YU, and thinking and wondering about the person who died at that spot.

But then, I'm someone who also reads the obits in the weekend paper and reads about the love and pain expressed by family members, as well as a synopsis of the persons life.

Is that morbid?

To be a stranger who will read about your death, and for a moment think about you, and your life, and the people who loved you, and hope that you're in peace.

I kind of like roadside memorials.

There seems to be some discussion around a plaque in the memory of Tahir Khan the cab driver who was tragically killed last week.
Some poll was taken asking residents if they would mind a plaque put up in prestigious Rosedale, on the corner of Whitehall Road and Mt. Pleasant, where Mr. Khan died.

For some people, Mr. Khans death was symbolic of the typical Canadian immigrant.
Someone who works hard, and sacrifices in order to achieve the Canadian dream, and become a citizen of Canada.

76% of residents polled apparently want no part of the plaque.

I'm not surprised.
Who wants a plaque commemorating the death of a Pakistani immigrant cab driver in Rosedale?
Especially when he was accidentally killed by boarding school brats.

Certainly not the snotty residents.

When did Oprah get to be the last word on everything?
Did I miss something?
Isn’t she a Talk Show Host?

Don’t get me wrong…I mean, if Oprah’s Book Club can get hosers to read “The Bluest Eye” by Toni Morrison, I think that’s great…but holy shit, man!
She’s a talk show host, not God.
Not St Joseph.
Not Mohomed.

I just watched Oprah’s public flogging of James Frey.
I just watched a bunch of people kiss her ass for “bringing this to the forefront of journalism”.
Who the fuck is James Frey?
Some guy who wrote a personal memoir that he sensationalized?
Someone who embellished on his memories?
I’m sorry, but it’s a memoir, people…not news.

For one of the Muppets (asked to come on the show to comment), to reckon it to claims that the Holocaust never happened is just fucking ridiculous.
It's insulting.
That now, if we read a biography or memoir we will not believe again.
It’s all Mr. Frey’s fault.

In times of war, lies in journalism are rampant.
In fact, the old adage:
"The first casualty of war is the truth", is the biggest truth ever told in times of reporting during a state of war.

To flay this writer for doing what many do in the guise of real news, seems like non-news to me.
The real news is that he pulled the wool over Oprah’s eyes.
That seems to be the real issue here.

When did Oprah become the North American conscience?

Obviously, the world of journalism and TVland collectively think that the general public are complete and utter morons.

I must concur...I huffed, puffed and snorted through the whole thing...

Begging for Charity

I have a pet peeve to pick today, and it's not about the election results.
Our new government is not as bad as it could have been, it's a minority...so they'll have to fight for every cut they'll most probably put forward.

Ok so, onward...
I am not a selfish person and I donate both my time and money to worthy causes.
However, am I the only one who would like to make this decision on my own without being harangued by a Cashier or by some person standing at the exit of a store like a Union Picketer?

This really irritates me.
What ever happened to the donation box by the cash register?
Why is the Cashier obligated to ask me, "Would you like to donate to (large company's pet charity) today?".
"No, would (Large Company) like to donate on my behalf?"

It's not enough that there are sometimes two or three people stationed at the exits of large stores soliciting donations, but I have to dodge those kids stalking me in any mall parking lot to buy their chocolates!

This is the truth.
One Saturday afternoon, I counted 12 different people that approached me for a donation as I ran my errands.
I saw one kid twice!
I said to him..."Didn't I see you in front of Scotiabank two hours ago?"
He got this constipated look on his face and said, "no".
I know it was the same kid.

It's enough already.

If I want to donate, I'll put my money in that little box by the cash register or send it to MY favourite charity and get a tax receipt.

Stop nickel and diming me every time I run some errands!

That's all for now folks...

Sunday Click-Around

I stumbled across Cardstacker Gallery which, I must say is quite impressive.
Another impressive sight dealing with paper is Robert J. Lang Origami which is also pretty impressive.
I must say that I certainly have never had the patience to get through to the third diagram with origami.

This guy is pretty good with sand. I personally didn't have the patience to sit through the whole video, but it's still interesting to be sure.

Back to paper for a second and check out Napkin Quotes, a project a stay at home dad took on for his daughters. I got this link via Riri.

It's a project that would be really cool if you were a young daughter, a lot of work if you were the Dad...but a heartwarming priceless memory as an adult daughter.

I'm a fan of photography, and Ikon is a blog by Kirk Condyles.
It's a new blog, but I'm looking forward to his photos since my favourite photos are of people.
I can look at photo after photo of people, and never get tired of looking at them. Photos of wildlife and landscapes are beautiful, but start looking the same to me after a few photos.
Chalk it up to being city raised.
People are just more interesting to me.
Even in art.

For those of you who are tortured by dreams, like myself...here is a dream dictionary that is a little less specific than many, and somehow the interpretations seem more logical to me than other dream dictionaries.
Most of my friends know that I have had a love affair with sari fabric for years. I cruise Indian fabric shops for vibrantly coloured fabric like I'm going to a Hindu wedding every weekend.
Here is a gratuitous photo of some of my beloved sari fabric.
Here is an Indian Recipe site.
I haven't tried anything from it yet, but I will.
If any readers have a tried and true recipe for "vare" (sp?) or "Keseri" I would really appreciate an e-mail.

Here is a Cooking by Numbers recipe site, where you mark off what you have in your fridge and it will generate recipes for you.
Also, the Table of Condiments telling you the shelf life of many condiments.

Sean Penn demands to know what asshole took seanpenn@gmail.com?

Last, and maybe least World Jump Day on July 20, 2006 at 11:39:13GMT.
Yeah. Ok.

That's all for now.

Another Episode of "What Were You Thinking?"

Me: "She's pregnant again. I don't know how she's going to manage, especially since the father of her last child is unreliable and doesn't help her."

The Mister: "She's going to have this one?"

Me: "She's got religious convictions"

The Mister: "That's convenient"

Me: "What do you mean?"

The Mister: "Well, what about the conviction of 'no pre-marital sex'? It's funny how we can choose our convictions and sins. What makes her think that she's any less guilty of sin by giving her kids the shittiest life she can give them?"

The Torture of Women

There is no doubt that women endure all kinds of crap to look like...well...what men think we should look like thanks to anorexic, coke fueled models, fashion magazines, actresses with personal Chefs, Personal Trainers and months at a time with 8 hours a day at the gym, and porn.
Women are made to feel as though they have to pump botox into their faces, chemicals into their lips, and silicon into their breasts in order to feel beautiful.
All of this is painful, and expensive shit.
I, being of the modest income variety am limited in what
a) I can afford and
b) What I am willing to do in order to live up to some sort of womanly standard.
Being of Eastern European agricultural engineering stock, my main battle over the years has been with hair.
I have used or tried everything on the market.
Many, many of which did not work.

Oh yes...I fell for those infomercials about the sugar based, spreadable crap that is supposed to work like wax...I fell for it because it was being pushed by a family of Middle Eastern women...and if anyone should know hair removal, they should.

They lie.
They lie like Persian rugs!

I would like to introduce you to an instrument of torture...The Epi.lady.
This was probably the worst experience I've ever had with anything that plugs in and claims to rid me of leg hair.
This little tool of the devil is an electrical device with two flexible coils that go in opposite directions to excruciatingly pull out hairs one by one as you drag it down your chosen appendage.
This is the only thing I own that I have not been able to give away.
Every time I try to give it to someone, it comes back like a boomerang within a day or two, with the trier-outers' lip trembling at the memory of their date with The Ep.ilady.

It still sits menacingly in the cupboard under our sink in the bathroom securely subdued in the fake leather pouch it came in.
I don't think that they make the model I own anymore...I think that perhaps the legend has instilled fear and nightmares in little girls all over the world.
But trust me girlikas...it existed.

It's when I read about happenings like this , taking away certain peoples' personal rights starts looking reasonable:

"A San Ramon couple who police said left their 5- and 10-year-old sons home alone -- but got a dog-sitter for their puppies -- were arrested Wednesday after celebrating the New Year in Las Vegas for five days."

"The couple, who police said may have left the kids home alone before, remained jailed Wednesday night in lieu of $200,000 bail each. They refused media requests for interviews."

"The 5 year old is autistic"

""It makes me feel unloved, put it that way," Joshua (the 10 year old) told The Chronicle"

No. shit.
Are we bringing back stonings any time soon?

Sully

The other night, The Mister watched Cinderella Man and mentioned that it was filmed in Toronto.
I thought I had read something about the use of Sully's Gym on Queen Street West, and The Mister and I had a conversation about Sully.
I remember him when I was a young girl.
I remember him being a fixture at the Northgate Restaurant counter at Lansdowne and Queen.
I remember him being a kind man.
Us kids used to joke around with him and he used to tell us to "stay outta trouble!".
He was a character.
A larger than life old school boxer with a squished nose, large sunglasses with a pinkish tone, lots of bling and advice.

He was the chain smokin' King of Queen Street.

And when we saw him, he'd always say "how's it goin? Stayin' outta trouble?"
My Sully story happened when I was in ninth grade, and it is great in the sense of stories of neighbourhood legends that are true.
It was always said that Sully looked tough, but he had a big soft heart, and it was true.

One Saturday, I was having french fries and gravy with my friend Patty, nursing my coke as we did back then, alternating between hanging at the Northgate or the Skyline restaurant.
Sully was sitting in his spot at the counter drinking coffee and talking to the owner.
I was telling my friend about how it was my mothers birthday, and how I didn't have any money to buy her a gift.
Sully overheard me and called me over.
He shoved a twenty in my hand and told me to buy something nice for my "Ma", and told me not to argue with him.
Just like that.
Twenty bucks back then was a lot of money.
Sully was a lot of man.

This story, and a hundred others is why I've got a soft spot for Parkdale.

Tell Me Quando, Quando, Quando

Last weekend, The Mister and I had dinner with Mr and Mrs Mystic.
Mr. Mystic presented me with a few CD's and one of them was a compilation of the music my mother loved as a young woman.
Listening to this CD sent me looking for Warwick/Bacharach, Tom Jones, Engelbert Humperdink songs.
The funny thing about this music is that if you gave me a title, I would be lost on the lyrics...But, put the tune on and I'll sing along like a fucking savant.
I downloaded some Jones/Humperdink, and while I was listening to "Please Release Me" and "Quando, Quando, Quando".
In my minds eye, I saw my beautiful young mother, and my exotic Tetka Milena together in our apartment on Spencer Avenue, both with a cigarette in one hand and a Czechoslovakian cut crystal tumbler in the other, singing at the top of their lungs and laughing.

It's funny how a couple of songs can start a black and white 8mm film to start in my head.
I've been playing Mystics CD, and the one I compiled. Listening to them in my car and reliving my mothers' youth.

Do you associate your mothers youth (and your own childhood) with music?

Pestilence: The Third Horseman of The Apocalypse.

I'm seeing more and more very young children with their hair dyed, and piercings.
This concerns me, even though it's none of my business.
Partially because it tells me that parents are either overcompensating by giving their children any and every whim that farts into their kids heads, or many of todays parents are so young themselves that they don't know what the fuck they're doing.

Firstly, just in the area of health..I don't agree with a growing child chemically altering anything on their bodies. I know we take this for granted because we are so bloated with our own importance and what we think looks cute, that we don't consider that dyeing hair is chemically altering the natural elements that maintain lustre and elasticity of the hair. I don't agree with allowing your child to fuck up their hair.
When they grow up, they can feel free to do it if they like.
If you want to be responsible for one more item on that list of "How my parents fucked me up" that was avoidable, this would be one of them.

On the other hand, whatever happened to looking forward to something?
"Oh, when I'm 16, I'm going to..."
Everything seems to be immediate for kids these days. If they want it, it's theirs and then we wonder why they're bored and angry or sometimes suicidal by the time they're 16 or 17.
There's nothing to look forward to.

Do you remember that old Twilight Zone episode where the main character is a gambler who is being granted everything he wants in "Heaven"?
Later when he's bored and going out of his mind with it, he inquires of his manservant, "What kind of Heaven is this?" and his manservant replies, "What made you think this is Heaven?"

We're putting this generation in the Twilight Zone of life, giving them everything and not teaching them to deal with disappointment, or having to hear "no" on occasion and sticking to it...and then when they grow up to be young adults, they can't cope because the world is full of disappointments and "no's".
I know this sounds simplistic, and I know that children are dealing with different issues nowadays, but I also know that many parents are afraid to disappoint their children and think that it's better to be thought of as "cool" than it is to help build character in.
Children are allowed to make adult decisions before they are fully aware of what they are deciding.
I don't think that an eight year old should be allowed to decide about getting his/her hair dyed or nose pierced.
I think that a parent who allows it, whether they are living an alternative lifestyle or not is being irresponsible.

That's all for now....

Boys Without Dads
Illustration: Daniel Ferguson

I've been hearing the fuss about Maverick Moms by Peggy Drexler.
Lesbian and single moms who are raising boys with no male in the house.

What Drexler aims to prove in her book is quite provocative.


I've no doubt that children raised by gay couples are no less fucked up than children raised by heterosexuals.
For the simple reason that gay people have issues just like straight people do.

Children raised without a father (yin/yang if you like) in my experience have multiple issues. Maybe that's because of society's portrayal of the nuclear family.
Maybe it's to do with the religious right.
Maybe it has to do with potatoes in Poland...

Whatever the reasons, I think that the idea of "Maverick Moms" is an interesting one, since all moms are forced by their circumstances to be mavericks in one way or another.
My mom was a maverick too, only not in the way that Drexler describes.
What immigrant woman in the early 1970's leaves a man who treated her like shit, goes back to school, and raises a child with no support or welfare, or child tax benefit?
I think that single moms have always been mavericks, be they lesbian or not.

For Drexler to say:
"Yes, lesbians and single mothers can raise boys without a man in the house, and by doing so, these women are breeding a new kind of adult man sensible to family values and open to differences"

...is to suggest that it's almost better to do it without a man.
That men raised with men in the house, are not "sensible to family values and open to differences". Because what she says is that this "new kind of man" is better.
Not like the old one raised by both a mother and father in the house.
Which is pretty explosive, because it doesn't matter how hard you try to exclude the "father figure" (and child custody laws, and the legal system has), it's still fundamentally necessary for a boy to identify with his father.

Ask any boy raised without one.
Hell, ask any girl.

What are your thoughts?

I Don't Like Teenagers. Who knew?

This is a terrible thing to say since I too was once a teen.
But, I don't remember swarming strip malls, and acting like a jackass for fun.
I understand that they are all going through Erickson's Adolescent Stage, but Holy Mother of Pearl, do they need to be such assholes?!?

Let me elaborate: Today I stopped by a 7/11 in a local strip mall. It's located accross the street from a high school. In this strip mall is a 7/11, a pizza place and a fast food burger joint. From my car, looking through the glass of the fast food place, I could see kids throwing things at each other, pushing each other around...and when I got out of my car, I could hear them through the glass.
It was like watching a pack of untrained, unleashed animals.

I ventured into the 7/11 and there were swarms of them in there as well.
The poor guy behind the counter could barely focus on what he was doing for watching the packs of kids pushing each other up and down the isles, surely watching for theft.
They were cruising the isles "fuckin'" this and "muthafuckin'" that, and being really loud and obnoxious.
What a crappy way for this poor man behind the counter to make a living.
Not to mention that some of these kids will stab each other for a slanty look, much less him for a chocolate bar.

What a shitty way to earn your Employment Canada enforced minimum wage.
You couldn't pay me enough to live through that shit every day between 11:30am and 2pm.

Sunday Click Around

Years ago, when I was a young and romantic girl, I used to love the art of Arthur Rackham, it appealed to my whimsical personality at that time. While I am certainly less whimsical these days, I still like his art.
I found this little site that shows the illustrations of Alice in Wonderland done by Rackham.

While we're on the topic of art, Diana Pakkala aka Mrs. Mystic is participating in The Gallery at World of Picture Frames on Tuesday December 6, 2005 from 5:30 - 9:30 p.m. It's at 133 Cartwright Avenue, (West off Dufferin Street, opposite Yorkdale Mall. Call 416-783-1896 for more info on that.

While looking around, I also ran into exactitudes photography done by Rotterdam-based photographer Ari Versluis and stylist Ellie Uyttenbroek photographing the striking dress codes of various social groups in different cultures and countries.
While we're on stereotypes of sorts, I link again to Eric Myers stereotypes a very cool interactive photography thing.
Another good link is A Picture History. It's an interesting place to go if you like history and pictures(duh...).
Flickr recently put together a tag related search which is kind of interesting if you've got an interest in other people's amateur photos.
Speaking of nosy like looking in to other people's lives, how about looking at other people's nasty houses in this link that I found over at Krysss.com
That site certainly makes my neglect to pick up and put away shoes in the foyer, paltry by comparison.

If you like taking tests, BBC Science and Nature has a bunch of interesting little tests to take.
Then, there is the New York Public Library Digital Gallery which is way cool.

That's all for today...

Young girls regularly talk about guys and how it’s hard to find a good one that doesn’t lie, or cheat, and is responsible and good.

I was talking to a guy the other day who is currently playing push me/pull you with a woman he’s in love with who is batshit crazy.
She jerks him around, and he breaks up with her, and then she weasels her way back in somehow.

Now, I’m not talking about a guy who’s not “with it”.
I’m talking about a guy who makes a good living and is in charge of bossing people around in his job.
A guy who's outwardly, "together".

While he was relaying his latest drama of Greek tragedy proportions about his ex/current/soon to be ex again…and it suddenly dawned on me:

This is where the decent single guys are.
Wrapped up in fucked up chicks…just like decent girls are wrapped up in fucked up guys.

But, then…when you say that out loud…who’s really the fucked up one?

Just food for thought.

Social Cripple Enabling

A while ago I was visiting Orinthology for Beginners and ran across Dorothy's Rant on Salon.com took me over there.
I've never been all that interested in Salon, but on occasion I would find myself there through some link or another.
Well, since Dorothy mentioned this article on men who purchase and love their "real dolls", I went over to read it.

Well, call me naive.

I know that all kinds of crazy shit goes on in this world, and I know that the internet has helped freaks find other freaks who are into the same freaky things...and then freaky things get normalized to a certain extent, and magazines like Salon interview the freaky people who participate in these freaky "lifestyles", and allow the freaky deakies to try to justify their bizarre lifestyle choices to the general public.

But, it doesn't make them less freaky deaky.

It just means that they've spent too much time locked up in their parents basement in front of a computer, sharing photos and stories about their plastic girlfriends.
When I read the article, I thought..."Oh gimme a break!"
The article says that there are scores of guys who "have no interest in "organic" women", but I have a feeling that organic women would have no interest in them either.

I'm not sure if this is the ultimate "the end" of the unattainable models body for the socially disabled, or what...but I must say that it's really, really funny.
And I don't mean in a "ha ha" way.
I mean peculiar. Flaky. Outré to the extreme.
No amount of rationalizing or pruning the story is going to make a fantasy relationship with a piece of plastic normal.

As I was reading, I was thinking...this is ridiculous...so I went on a little search.

It appears to be a huge business.
There is a Real Doll Doctor.
You can buy real doll parts on e-bay.
There are message boards and websites used by these guys to give each other "tips" on caring for and dressing their girlfriends, so that they can post pictures of themselves and their "girlfriends" watching TV together, or playing video games together.

I. Kid. You. Not.
No.
Really.

Sunday Click Around
This photo is from this cool site called Grapefruit Moon Gallery. There is some really nice vintage ad art there.

While on the topic of ad art, I found Advertising/Design Goodness through J-Walk Blog. There is some very clever ad work there.
While we're on the topic of photography, there are so many great photographers out there. Check out this Scott Stulberg on Southeast Asia Site.
Also, just by chance I found this Areal view of Niagara Falls. Being a Torontonian of Serbian descent, Niagara Falls...is like the Mecca for all Slavic relatives who visit.

You can also check out International Webcams.
Now, a Security Guard's life is available to you.
You too can look at empty rooms and hallways to your hearts content.

Is your life boring? Not getting enough attention? Why don't you make up a story about yourself, and let By Accident help you fabricate a more interesting life by making shit up about yourself.
That's right, you can stress yourself out for life, trying to keep a gigantic lie straight!

This is an interesting art project. It's called Look at a Book.
Scrapbooking always looks more interesting when Artists do it.

Ever wonder how long stuff in your fridge will last, and can't be bothered finding the "Best Before Date" on the product, or perhaps it's been rubbed or torn off..or worse, put in a stupid place by the company so that it gets torn off when you open the product...Check out the Table of Condiments.

Like taking tests? Here's the site for you. Or maybe this is the site for you.

That's all.

Tales of the Daft.

Today I spent four hours in emergency with a child whose parents could not be contacted. The injury wasn’t severe, but I took her there to be on the safe side.
The emergency triage, in da hood, on Halloween.

Need I say more?

We were next door to a seventeen year old who swallowed a bullet “on a dare”.
I found out from his father who was chatting with me while we waited for the Doctor.
Dad said that he thought that bullet swallower was probably going to get x-rays, but what Dad was really hoping for was a complete colonic enema. "That ought to make him think twice" says Dad.
From the bullet swallower to the drunk guy with the gash on his forehead, escorted by police who whined on at 11 decibels about how uncomfortable his shoes were, and how long he would have to wait.
“Whhhyyyy can’t they see me nooooooow? Owwww, owwww…my feet are killing me….Hooooow muuuuch looooooonger?”

I struck up conversation with an EMS guy who was behind me in line while I was waiting to register.
He was escorting someone who seemed to be agitated and passively crazy.
I asked EMS Guy if he was looking forward to tonight, and he said, “HA! I’m off at 7. Besides, tonight’s not that bad. It’s the Saturday night before Halloween that people get drunk and kick the crap out of each other”.
He had just told me that, when his charge (a skinny, dirty guy who looked like a walking, talking cadaver) snuck up to him and announced, “I’ve got to get the shit out of my pants. I’m going to the bathroom”.
“Sure”, says the EMS Guy, as though he had said, "I'm going for a coffee".

About 2 seconds after cadaver had walked down the hall toward the bathroom, EMS Guy says, “I’m going to give him another ten seconds and then I’m going to follow him to make sure he doesn’t get on the streetcar.” I asked EMS Guy if that happened a lot and he said that it did. He said that some people use ambulances like taxis. I asked him who paid for that, and he said, “You and I do”.

Great.

While watching the nurses, and other employees in the triage…especially Charles, who tried to direct people, and calm people down, and get them coffee or water or juice while they were waiting.
I couldn’t help but admire their patience.
In the four hours that I was in the triage waiting, I saw Charles verbally abused a number of times, and he continued to smile and be pleasant.
He ran to get a wheelchair and pillow for a guy who continuously called him a “fucking asshole”.

How do they do it?

Oh yes…you have to be a special person to work in the emergency triage in the hood.

On Beauty
Listening to CBC's Writers & Company this afternoon, and I was lucky enough to catch Zadie Smith interviewed.

I am in love with her.
I now have to find both White Teeth and On Beauty.

She made some very interesting and true observations about life, family, and marriage.
Commenting on marriage, she stated that often people perceive love as something, at the end. Like it's a prize.
A windfall.
We search and search for it, and once we've found it... it's as though people see it in the same way as purchasing an appliance.
That it'll just work for you after you've got it.
When in reality, love is just the beginning of another long and hard road.
That it's hard work, not the "now everything will be just fine" idea that so many people have about it.
That marriage is a "leap of faith" and love being a "life long project".
It's true enough that sometimes love just isn't enough to stay and work at it...especially if you're the only one who's working.
"Rowing the boat with one oar, will find you going in circles", as they say.

Her whole comparison of people seeing others as minor characters in a personal movie, while in reality, we're all minor characters in someone else's movie...amused me.
Her remark about being brought to tears upon seeing beauty in the interactions of people, made me nod my head.
When she said that, I thought about how witnessing strangers connected by beauty restores my faith in the human spirit and condition.
It's those moments that to others mean nothing, but to you are profound.
For me, seeing a father interacting with and loving his child...restores my faith.
It's about personal experience, and how we connect the actions of others to ourselves.
It's about what keeps us going from day to day.

She talked about race, and how she has been ludicrously described as "too white" by many.
She remarked that it was a misguided insult that black people give to each other by equating "educated" with "white". That it was the wrong way for black people to differentiate themselves from white people.

I love her.

Here's a little taste of her on Gordon Coale Weblog...BTW, Zadie is a big fan of blogs too!

In other news,

I rented Born into Brothels, a documentary about the children of Calcutta's red light district.

So sad, but beautiful.
The children amazing, and old in spirit.

Seeing this documentary makes me want to go out and smack spoiled yuppie children more than I already do...and that is saying a lot.

If you're a suck like me, go out and get it.

That's all for now...