I’m not just blue because my girlfriend left town.  It’s the tail end of winter, the time when energy ebbs to its lowest point, and yet the workload snowballs to its most overwhelming proportions.

In Montreal today it is hovering close to zero, the snow is melting, the sky is perfect blue, and coming back from the airport an hour ago, I saw the mountain and the green dome of Oratoire St. Joseph and my heart did not soar like it used to.  I just thought to myself: yes, this is home.  Yes, this is beautiful.  Of course it’s beautiful.  It’s home!

I think that might be a tautology.

I wonder if there is time to take an hour off to simply walk and enjoy the last few hours of daylight.  A mental health break of sorts before tackling the second half of the semester.


A week ago, I sent my manuscript, Blind Spot, to two editors in New York.  That means that the long, long process of tinkering and second guessing is over.  And the long period of not thinking about it begins.  Because you cannot think about these things…  Thinking helps nothing.  What will happen will happen.

Is that another tautology?


Was surprised to see that a Liberal candidate in the Alberta provincial election had her sign defaced with a racial slur.  That’s not cool.

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