Last night I was thanking the universe, this afternoon I am wishing I could be back in bed. The jumper cables to my heart have gone missing somewhere between then and now. Where is my tough man when I need one? I have made a promise to myself not to get addicted to those drinks and so will only let myself have one per week (Mondays). Only if things are going downhill though.

A woman in my class gave me homemade bread last night, and this happened right after I was hoping for bread in order to make a tuna sandwich. I asked, she answered. This elderly man also gave me a whole bottle of orange juice. Which is great, considering I have 12 more days of poverty. Ah yes, food is welcome.

I also got an email from Melissa today wanting to climb Mt. Yotei this Saturday. Man oh man is all I have to say. I am still cringing when I walk up or down steps. My quads are killing me and in 4 days I will be on an even bigger hike. Maybe that is why my body is so exhausted. Could be.

I watched the friends finale last night thanks to a cd that Peter sent me. I really can`t believe the show is over. I mean, it is about time because there was no more room for character development. But still, I was in junior high when that show came out, seems like one of those staple things. After not watching friends for so long, and then seeing the final show, it made me miss New York the most. The streets, the buildings, even the nutso people, ah yes nostalgia. And even that was 3 years ago.

And Calgary lost the cup to Tampa. Florida beat Alberta. What is this world coming to?

Whoa, but time to get off the bummed out train. I just need to wake up, or give myself some space here. Cause you need space to dream.

Feeling a little less connected and a lot less centered.

Breathing time.

Peace.

I leave you with a Don Patterson poem:
THE WRECK

But what lovers we were, what lover,
Even when it was all over -

the deadweight bull-black wines we swung
towards each other rang and rang

like bells of blood, our own great hearts.
We slung the drunk boat out of port

and watched our unreal sober life
unmoor, a continent of grief;

The candlelight strange on our faces
like the silent tiny blazes

And coruscations of its wars.
We blew them out and took the stairs

Into the night for the night`s work,
stripped off in the timbered dark,

Gently hooked each other on
like aqualungs, and thundered down

To mine our lovely secret wreck.
We surfaced later, breathless, back

To back, then made our way alone
up the mined beach of the dawn.