Some things never change - again.

Well, it's been 2 very busy weeks around here - both at work and at home. Trish finally left after I'd told her to get out. She left somewhat indignantly last Friday night. Have I learnt my lesson in trying to help others? Perhaps. Will I be as quick to invite someone to share my hom ewith me? I don't know - maybe not. I may be too nice afterall.

Everytime that I talk to myself as I walk and convince myself that I'm really not going to get all taken with the idea of women, along comes an interesting thing, or in today's case, a whole series of interesting things. Actually the main interesting thing was from yesterday. E McTaggart walked into the office looking for her U-Pass, since we are now squatting in Freda Pagani's old office' across the space from Gord's office. Anyway, she was wearing a plain, brown or blue - I think it was light blue pant and jacket combination and while not the stunner that was aboard the 99 this morning as I trudged through the biting cold to buy Gord's birthday cake from the Safeway, she had interesting brown eyes. They reminded me of Larissa's eyes except that they were brown and I found my speech slurring and losing my train of thought as I starred intently into her eyes. In any other position (what does that mean? If she wasn't there for her U-Pass, I probably wouldn't have met her) I would have asked her out, but instantly thought of the old stand-bys, (1) she's probably married or seeing someone already, or (2) this probably isn't the professional thing to do. So nothing ever comes of it and since the few times that I've actually ventured to ask, my fears are confirmed - there really isn't very much encouraging me to initiate the line of questioning. But where's the harm really? Except to my own little world and the finicky and delicate raw twines that make up my ego. This is definately not healthy for morale - but nothing ventures, nothing ventures, as a ditzy Jennifer Tilly once said.

More nect time. I am tired of cleaning this room in the aftermath of hurricane Trish and there is more to be done tomorrow morning before I get to do some work. The shaw serviceman is due tomorrow 10-12 to install the basic cable and the cable modem - and I hope that he's on time as I have to leave at 1pm to get to the armoury. I will not be going on the exercise this weekend it seems - pity, since I could definately use the money, as I need to be at work on Saturday to catch up on the load of things which Priya left for me without my knowledge. This whole U-Pass has been very disruptive for everyone, including me.

I really need to be finding a new job soon. Gord is getting a little grumpy about , well, everything and I really don't blame him. How would your morale be if your assistant was openly looking for a job and they are beginning to be somewhat frantic about it? He says that he understands, but in reality, I seriously doubt if he knows just how much he expects out of the position there and that things aren't quite so easy to do and aren't dealth with in a matter of seconds or small minutes. At any rate, I can only hold out and pray that I may be given real responsibility and commensurate respect and pay. The question - after all this time languishing, am I actually ready for much else? The brain needs exercise as well.

Jiminez. How could she possibly be hung over at 4:30pm on a Wednesday afternoon? At least she said that she loved me. Unfortunately, that was due to my staying open later than usual to accomodate her getting a photo taken for her UBC card. No fear - other people showed up late as well, expecting service. The hours aren't really condusive for the students who need the operation hours to be early or later than regular business hours for the simple fact that they are in class during those same buiness hours!

The hope of finding work suitable in New York wanes with every passing day and I am beginning to wish that I had better focus or direction during my undergrad days - I probably would have chosen something else to major in. Had better start saving up for the trip to Chicago next year.

Something heavy, large and looming portends, and I sense its presence, nagging me like a hand holding my forehead. Where is it? What is it? I don't know, but I fear, loathe and look forward to it's arrival. What new adventure or ignominy awaits around the next corner, which needs but a small error in judgement or a door opened to herald it in. I feel that it is as small children who have done something which they should not have and hide and move about restlessly in dreaded knowledge of the return of father from work. We know who our father is and are we so naive and lost in ourselves as to go along with our delusions about our existence? If so, then woe indeed to the Earth and woe to us ourselves, for we now know not when father returns home to view our handiwork and cast judgement. There will be no lying then.

It is indeed a curse to be living in interesting times.