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.