a new day

+ i have optimism again, and no small amount of steam, which is what i was missing. it's a hump that i have to pass, when i can surmount a small task and see some light and, hopefully, keep it going in the morning. i am aiming to finish by wednesday morning, which is two days past the final deadline, but hey.

+ hockey and US politics: escapism, pure and simple. visceral, beautiful. i have no control over either, and either has a tangible effect on my life. although both do in a quality-of-life-on-this-planet-and-in-this-city, i prefer to see it all as an untouchable arena. i put my dream of working on a congressional campaign on an equal level as the childhood dream of playing hockey in the NHL. i mean, i can win an election in canada, but that's like playing shinny after school. the major leagues are the real event, real life.

+ and here's the thing. no one can do as much 'student politics' as i have and be a cynic. this job is fucking thankless. everyone's an adviser, everyone's a i doubt there's much payoff at the end, and the personal toll is insane. no one can slog it out through more than a year without finding the work, the sheer love of the representative role, a satisfying end in itself. so don't call me a cynic. i've been through too much of this crap to fall for that. if i didn't believe in this you can bet i'd have quit by now.

i don't fetishise student politics. i believe in it. i believe in public service, and the capacity to do good things for each other collectively through institutions. i believe in holding institutions to account, and i believe in being held to account myself when i hold office. i believe in good governance, especially at this level, because if not here, than where? if you can't do student politics right, with ethics and beliefs and accomplishments and honestly, then what? to forgive the lesser indignities for a greater cause is the true cynicism. it's the view that we can NEVER get it right, at any level, so we should go for broke, play a rigged game, and martyr ourselves on an altar of perpetual fight.

+ i want to write a short story, and the opening line be "dana said that this was the street where kennedy got shot." roger blenman pointed out the opening of margaret atwood's cat's eye as his favourite, and i'll never forget that. time is not a line but a dimension. cat's eye is clumsy, but wonderful too, and it's about life in a city. life over time, looking back, and knowing. who we are, in context.

+ CBC is running a show about urban life, and the focus several weeks ago was the individual city. that i have my own city, that's only mine, built through my networks and contacts and passageways and habits. who i know is my city. where i get coffee in the morning and pizza at night is my city. i believe in this model. geographical subjectivism, i guess. living with someone for four years leads to a remarkably congruous experience in a city. the same paths, the same restaurants, the same civic scope.

balance

+ this is the paper i need to write in order to graduate. at least, to graduate now. i have had no intention of not writing this paper, but my assumption that i would end up writing it has led me to believe, seemingly, that it will happen. well, no. i have to write it, probably to finish it within several days. i realised in the fall that this was my last paper. 'hey, then i'm done!' and so it was: i was done. now i have this paper to write, even though i'm done. it never, ever, got easier.

+ i've been reading over the previous years, and no, upper division courses were not my wall. nothing at SFU has been a wall. what i've learned this year is that when i meet the wall, i can apply myself and do very well. this is the first year when i have had to work hard to get by, but i have worked hard, and i have done very well. this has instilled in me no small amount of optimism. i'd forgotten about the wall, in fact; i don't feel as though i'm holding myself back anymore. then again, who will i be when i don't have this paper to finish anymore?

+ recent books:

• lots of canadian politics. right side up, by paul wells; iron man, by lawrence martin; and juggernaut, by susan delacourt. i read these over the break, when i was not writing my paper. i read right side up in port alberni.
  
• kennedy and nixon, about kennedy and nixon. soon i'm going to read all the president's men
  
• fever, by sharon butala. of course it was good.
  
• some lousy old science fiction books. always good. i am still 2/3 through my future cops anthology.
  
• at the moment, lord jim, by joseph conrad.
  

+ i've stopped writing about records. the new goldfrapp record is really affecting me, and i've listened to it a lot. it's restored my faith in records, kinda. i've finally tracked down copies of the last two pursuit of happiness albums - these would definitely have changed my life in grade 12. now they just make me happy. it's because there is love in my heart. i'm trying hard to put songs that i listen to in playlists for posterity. sometimes i can remember, sometimes i can't. spring '03 was a big deal, because i can remember everything that i was listening to at the time.

+ jan was away for a week at disneyland over news year's. rather than write my paper, i read books and fucked about. jan's brother was staying downstairs, but we didn't really interact at all. i went to bed early, then listened to records, read books, and drank scotch for hours.

+ before that, jan went to port alberni alone and i went across three days later. two days? i was the last person on the horseshoe bay bus, and stood at the front as we went across the lions gate bridge. the bus broke down at park royal, so we all got on to another one. on the way back, we were the second-to-last car on the ferry. it was an old ferry, with a picture of the queen at the front.