tonight little children will go scampering about all bundled up in their autumn boots and jackets, wearing painted-on faces and reflective strips, going from door to door collecting plastic-wrapped sugar snacks. mmm… invert sugar… modified milk ingredients… glycerin.

sorry if I seem a bit overcynical… I’m just tired and I don’t have a costume 🙁 I’m really just a sad little boy who doesn’t look like a goof… er, well, I don’t have a goofy costume, anyway.


um, pertinent news: I hate bills

hey dad

thanks for the email dad! glad to know things are going well on your trip despite the rain. just to remind you if you guys want to stop over on your way back, I will be in Sherbrooke Saturday afternoon but I will be home on Sunday. You can call Saturday morning or anytime Sunday. I hope you’ve given my greetings to the extended family 🙂 peace.

un rêve

J’étais à Odanak dans mon rêve – une réserve autochtone près de Pierreville. C’était une journée claire. Je voyais la route principale, des bâtiments isolés le long de la route, les pôles et les câbles téléphoniques, et beaucoup de grandes herbes des couleurs d’automne – brunâtre, beige, avec un peu de vert restant. Je crois qu’il n’y avait personne. J’étais seul. Je volais vers l’est (nord-est), dans la direction de Baie-du-Febvre. J’ignore quelle était ma destination. En volant, je fis soudainement face à un mur, un grand mur bleu grisâtre, bleu de pluie. Je ne pouvais pas aller par-dessus du mur, et il me fallait passer par une porte opaque, de la même couleur. Cette porte était au niveau du sol, sur la route. En passant par la porte, je rentrais dans un petit vestibule, encore de la même couleur. Il faisait moins clair là-dedans, puisqu’il n’y avait pas de fenêtres ni de lampes. Par exemple, il me semble qu’il y avait un miroir, une table, et un petit tapis. Il y avait une autre porte opaque, identique à l’autre, à l’autre bout du petit vestibule. Je voulais ouvrir cette porte et continuer mon voyage, mais de l’autre côté de cette porte, j’entendis gronder et aboyer une bête féroce. Je ne voulais pas faire face à cette bête, alors, même que j’étais déçu, j’ai fait demi-tour, sortant du vestibule par la porte par laquelle je suis rentré.

Si vous lisez mon journal de façon régulière, vous devriez connaître la signification de ce rêve.

snow and dreams

the first snow came today in Drummondville.

my car got its oil changed this morning and when I came back from work in the courtesy car, my little green echo was wreathed in white.

I felt a little disconnected from reality today, and I was feeling a bit lost and stuck in my work. maybe it’s because the weather was so dreary and grey. I mean, sure, snow is nice. But the best kind of snow happens when the sky is an irrepressible bright white, and it comes down in huge flocks of flakes that cover whole cities with thick, lasting blankets of innocent white. It doesn’t stick to mittens (much), but it sticks to itself well enough to make high-quality snowballs that shatter into a thousand fluffy fragments on impact. I’m digressing pretty heavily here. Maybe I’m preoccupied with something, or lots of things. I think so. I have a lot of things on my mind and I’m probably having trouble letting it all go and getting on with life.

You know, I’m coming to understand, slowly, that it’s okay to relax sometimes. Lots of you probably know I have a streak of perfectionism a mile wide, and that I often feel like I have to be doing something, otherwise I’m being lazy or useless. I often worry and waste time trying to find FRIGHTFULLY IMPORTANT things to do, you know, side projects, involvement in this and that, and superhuman feats of might and grandeur. As if I want to be all things to all people. But I’m not all things, I’m just me. I guess if being me isn’t good enough, then sure, let’s go try and be Superman. But you know what, being me isn’t all that bad. I have a lot of good things going for me, a lot of unique qualities, abilities, and special potential. Being me isn’t the perfect thing to be, but it’s still pretty freakin good.

Day by day, things are getting better.

je suis heureux parce que je t’aime

today, we celebrated the Feast of Knowledge at my place. it was pretty fun. before everyone left, we ended up delving into a whole bunch of old archives that my parents gave (loaned?) me… old papers, compilations, workshops, various materials that were produced by the Bahá’í community back in the day, starting around 1970. Ahh, the seventies!

I gotta go to bed now. I’m happy tonight. God is doing for me what I can not do for myself. Raise up your voices in thanks and praise.

I was gonna say something more about love… you know… to round out the inner monologue I was developing earlier… but… naaahh.


have you ever felt like the more you say, the less happy you are?