How Hot WHAT Is? (round 6)

In case you're new; my roommate Nadine cracks me up on an almost daily basis. I've decided to post the best of the best each week.

me: Oh! My water boiled! I forgot about it...
her: For a second there, I thought you said your water broke...
me: Surprise! I'm pregnant.
her: I wouldn't even know where to start.

me: (pointing at a bruise) I walked into a door yesterday.*
her: That's what they all say...

her: Why do I have so much trouble functioning like a normal human being?

(we have had an inundation of couchsurfing requests... we also have a girl-guests only policy.)
me: Ooh, this guy wants to stay with us...He's French and he's a musician!! Can he?
her: Only if he stays in your room. (pause) I have no idea why I said that.

me: There are things that I like about myself.
her: Oh yeah, I'm a total catch!
(notice how she steals the spotlight on that one.)

her: No matter how hot it gets out today, you are not allowed to take off your tights. I don't want to see your bum on the front of the Toronto Sun saying, "This Is How Hot It Is!"

*True story. I have yet to outgrow my awkward adolescent stage.

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Simone Weil: On "Forms of the Implicit Love of God"

Simone Weil time again! One of the essays in Waiting for God is entitled "Forms of the Implicit Love of God." Her main argument is that before a soul has "direct contact" with God, there are three types of love that are implicitly the love of God, though they seem to have a different explicit object. That is, in loving X, you are really loving Y. (in this case, Y = God). As for the X of the equation, she lists: Love of neighbor Love of the beauty of the world Love of religious practices and a special sidebar to Friendship “Each has the virtue of a sacrament,” she writes. Each of these loves is something to be respected, honoured, and understood both symbolically and concretely. On each page of this essay, I found myself underlining profound, challenging, and thought-provoking words. There's so much to consider that I've gone back several times, mulling it over and wondering how my life would look if I truly believed even half of these thi...

I Like to Keep My Issues Drawn

It's Sunday night and I am multi-tasking. Paid some bills, catching up on free musical downloads from the past month, thinking about the mix-tape I need to make and planning my last assignment for writing class. Shortly, I will abandon the laptop to write my first draft by hand. But until then, I am thinking about music. This song played for me earlier this afternoon, as I attempted to nap. I woke up somewhere between 5 and 5:30 this morning, then lay in bed until 8 o'clock flipping sides and thinking about every part of my life that exists. It wasn't stressful, but it wasn't quite restful either...This past month, I have spent a lot of time rebuffing lies and refusing to believe that the inside of my heart and mind can never change. I feel like Florence + The Machine 's song "Shake it Out" captures many of these feelings & thoughts. (addendum: is the line "I like to keep my issues strong or drawn ?" Lyrics sites have it as "stro...

Esse - Czeslaw Milosz

I'm on a bit of a poetry binge this week, and Monday afternoon found me lying on the luxurious shag rug of a friend's tiny apartment, re-reading some of my favourite poets (ee cummings, William Carlos Williams, Czeslaw Milosz). It is an adventure to re-open a collection and wonder what will pop out, knowing something you've read before will strike you afresh, or you will be reminded of a particularly moving line that you had somehow forgotten. Like this piece from Milosz, which floors me. Every. damn.* time. The first time I read it, I lay in a park with a friend (this same friend who offered me her rug as my reading burrow) and demanded that I share it with her. I spoke it carefully, and then, into the post-reading silence, I slammed the book shut, and dropped it as loudly as I could onto the grass. "I'm never reading anything again," I declared, "What else is there to say?" Esse I looked at that face, dumbfounded. The lights of métro st...

* not with ink

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