I am all a-flutter, flushed from the fearful desire to fall and having nowhere firm to land.

Dreams:

Jesse called and woke me up in the middle of a dream this morning, so I had the chance to repeat for her all the ones I could remember. In reverse chronological order:

- I was Snape, from Harry Potter, collecting magical candies from a buffet table that would be somehow useful before I went off to fight Voldemort. One of the kinds of candies was made of black, compressed crumbs/dust that made you invisible if you snorted it. Last I remember (before she woke me up), I was jumping out a window with nothing to hold onto except candy bungee-cords. (Spearmint Greens, whites, some reds)

- My sister was very sick, and taken to Quarantine. It was night-time and snowing. I was trying to get into the compound where they were keeping her. In retrospect, it was sort of set up like a very grid-like zoo, with people in individual cubicles that were open on one side. I was afraid she was dying, but I don't think I found her.

- I was on a crowded subway car, and was knocked into / lay into someone's lap. The train was so crowded that I couldn't get up again. A man entered. He was planning to kill a list of people on the train. He told me that I was not on the list, but that I was going to die as part of his plan to kill someone else. I was on my back and couldn't move. He crushed my ribcage and heart with his elbow. (Pale yellow)

- I was hanging out with friends. A guy friend/acquaintance of mine hugged me (held me?) and told me that he loved me. I realized that I loved him too and told him so.

The last (first of the night, last in the list) is a recurring theme for me. I started having these dreams in November, had though I've had the last month or a bit off. It seems like they may be starting up again. Usually with different people, though I think this particular person has featured before.

I used to feel flattered that I get roughly 20 footprints a week or so, despite almost never writing anything here. Now I realize that these are mostly automated phishing sites. Sad Boat.

I have chased after the History and Literature of England like a panting puppy begging for treats. I, hungry for a richness of past, thickness of culture and a deeply defined sense of belonging, have looked to the nation that colonized mine to discover my identity (ignoring the French altogether). Canada alone has never been enough for me; I've always wanted to understand the histories that came before we were settled here, the places where history actually happened while time was only passing over here.

Even though I have identified with England, I am not a majority English. There is far too much French, Scottish and Slovak in my blood for me to even look the part. I blend in better at the Danish Canadian Club than I would in British circles.

And maybe the time has come to stop leaning over to Europe to find the history, the opinions, that matter. I have invested so much time in other countries, and have ignored my own. Yet I was born here. I am, and always will be a Canadian, so perhaps it's time to start understanding - or even shaping - what that means.

1940, L.S. Amery addressed Neville Chamberlain - the British Prime Minister who bent over backward to appease Hitler - by quoting Oliver Cromwell's famous dismissal of the Rump Parliament following the 17th century civil war.

The change of clothes had, some philosophers will say, much to do with [the change in Orlando]. Vain trifles as they seem, clothes have…more important offices than merely to keep us warm. They change our view of the world and the world’s view of us. For example, when Captain Bartolus saw Orlando’s skirt, he [treated her like a woman]. These compliments would certainly not have been paid had her skirts…been… breeches. (Orlando, 187)

Thus, it was the male view and treatment of her that inspired Orlando to perform the female gender, rather than an actual difference in herself. The speaker echoes the power of being seen by others in Mark: “Suppose the looking glass smashes, the image disappears[;] the [self-perceived] figure…is there no longer, but only that shell of a person which is seen by other people…As we face each other…we are looking into the mirror” (Norton, 2084). In other words, our identities are formed in how we are seen – in a male world - which is certainly the case for Orlando.

Who lives in Surrey?

I realized today that there are two things that make me feel more loved (in a platonic way) than anything else.

1) Being fed.

2) Being driven somewhere

Feed me, provide my meals, or drive me around and I'll be loyal to you forever.

Beware the Ides of March!
(Finally!)

I drank too much on Friday, threw up on Saturday before driving to Qualicum and then used Sunday to recover. Mmm Chinese food (but far too much of it).