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Showing posts from December, 2010

Day 87: Why we (still) care that Harry met Sally.

Harry : Wouldn't you rather be with Humphrey Bogart than the other guy? Sally: I don't want to spend the rest of my life in Casablanca married to a man who runs a bar. That probably sounds very snobbish to you... Harry: You'd rather be in a passionless marriage... Sally: ...and the first lady of Czechoslovakia. Harry: ...than live with a man you've just had the greatest sex of your life with just because he owns a bar and that is all he does? Sally : Yes. And so would any woman in her right mind. Women are very practical--even Ingrid Bergman which is why she gets on the plane at the end of the movie. When Harry Met Sally.  Still one of my all time favorite movies. I make it a point to try to watch it before New Year’s Eve, and partially blame it for getting so teary eyed at midnight when the ball drops and Auld Lang Syne plays.  But what is it that has me (and millions of other women) still thinking about Harry and Sally? And still opting to watch it

Day 79 (2nd post): awake.

She feels the chilly draft of morning hit her shoulders and pulls the sheets up to her neck. Damn it. The duvet fell to the ground. Brrrrrrrr. Shivering, eyes closed, her foot sleepily searches for his legs under the sheets. She finds him and huddles closer, placing her legs onto his. There is nothing better than the warmth of his sleeping body in the morning. Nothing. She opens her eyes to look at him. He is so peaceful. He isn’t searching like when he’s awake.  He is just breathing dreams. She kisses his arm, and he stirs. He opens his eyes for a second, and automatically pulls her in tighter, kissing the top of her head.  Then his breathing gets heavy and he is fast asleep again. How does he do that? The room is bright for 6 am. And cold. Maybe we can stay like this all day. Nice and warm. Together. Maybe we don’t have to be part of the world for 24 hours. Can’t we just remain exactly as we are? His hand moves and runs through her hair, as though he can hear her thi

Day 78: will it not come undone?

what of this life? what of all this? if everything’s gone what can be missed? if the road is not built, who can then come? If nothing was made will it not come undone? if the rules are all changed is the game still the same? if the loser can’t win will the winner feel shame? who is at fault, when there’s no one to blame? what is the cost when nobody gains? if moments are lived why do they die? if people are free, why do they hide? what of this world, then? what of all this? if everyone leaves, what can exist?

Day 74: Here I am, and there you are.

Hello! Hi! How's it going out there? I gotta tell you, this post almost didn't happen. I drove a friend home, got stuck behind the snowploughs, got every single red light, took the really, really far parking spot (no others in sight) ran down the street, and up three flights of stairs. I kicked my boots off, threw my coat on the floor, stubbed my little toe badly on the coffee table (that keeps happening!) and turned my computer on. After 3 resets on the router (oy vey) here I am. Here. I. Am. You would think that I might have thought of something to say. I did. I actually jotted some notes onto my iPhone while my friend went to the washroom during dinner. And again at the many red lights in the car. I don't know why I even do that, I never end up using what I wrote. I want it to be fresh. I like to see what transpires organically when my fingers hit this keyboard. And tonight, I'm not sure what will. So many things are floating around my head. Mostly how

Day 66: word wizards are good with words.

we say a lot, we use many words. we think palpable thoughts, we thicken the air with want and questions. we breathe it in, we chase it through a maze. we get lost. we dodge bullets. we find our way out through separate exits. we exhale. we move forward. we move on. we forget. we forget?

Day 60: Was it real?

Have you noticed, that due to consistently developing technology, personal contact is evaporating? According to most people, I’m supposed to want to try to meet men online. Apparently it is the new way to ‘put yourself out there’. But today’s new dating reality is that couples primarily meet and communicate digitally. It is intimacy through Internet. It almost makes it fictitious in some ways, like it’s not happening in real time. That worries me. I have no idea when it was that even I jumped the ‘virtual emotional’ bandwagon. All I know is that I’m uncomfortable with this realization. I love to express myself in writing, but is it the easier way out? Sure there are always specific circumstances to hide behind the choice of the written word (distance, secrecy, shyness) but if you have something important to say to another being, shouldn’t the words be spoken and not typed?  Does writing and reading it not dispossess the value and weight of the intended sentiment?  Kind of lik