Knowing his preference for how he likes his coffee¹, I jokingly told him he should get a Wayne Gretzky on the way to Timmies this morning. Until today, he had never even heard of Tim Hortons, and must have thought that all Canadian products are named after Canadian heroes. “What’s that?” he asked me. “Nine cream and nine sugar, like Gretzky’s jersey number; 99″, I told him.

“That sounds good”.

So I walked up to the counter, made my order, and looked at him. He gave me a nod, so I turned to the girl behind the counter again, and said, “Extra large coffee. Nine cream, nine sugar”.

In a completely deadpan face, she asked, “Are you serious?”.

“Yep.”

And this is probably the greatest thing I’ve ever experienced.

1. The previous day, I asked him how many cream and sugar he takes. Expecting a quantitative measure, he just told me, “A lot”. [↑]

I’m exhausted today. I try not to acknowledge it, but my body keeps reminding me.

How is it doing this?

I just peeled a banana, and with the peel in my hand I threw the banana in the garbage.

My dad did the same thing once with an orange. “The old man’s going senile”, I thought to myself.

Hopefully, it’s not due to some degenerative brain disease, but the 12-hours I put in at work until midnight yesterday.

My new schedule involves going to therapy after work on Mondays. Today, I also have to go to my framer to sign my photos and mats afterwards. I was going to pick up a drop cloth and background stand at the photography store in between, but I think I’ll skip that.

We’re in the middle of a server swap at work, so I expect client computers to be bursting into flames today. I’m also organizing a pot luck for the company at the end of the week.

My mind feels like it’s going in eight different directions at once.

But as long as I feel, I know I’m alright.

The Emergence Exposition: Opus 02 vernissage is coming up in three weeks and if you’re in the Ottawa area, you can drop by to see my exhibit!

The show is free. Over three hundred people were packed into the last one. I’ll be the one walking around with a camera strapped to his hand.

Four exhibition rooms, Four creative styles

Like the exhibitions of old France, the idea of this gallery-house is to have a mixture of different artistic styles.

J’ai eu envie de recréer quelque chose dans cet esprit-là. Il ya un côté intimidant et même assez froid aux galeries d’art. Les gens n’osent pas toujours entrer, mais je veux leur montrer que l’art c’est pour tout le monde, dans une ambiance chaleureuse.

— Frédéric Daty, gallery owner

There will be four visual artists — metal sculptor, ceramic sculptor, painter, photographer (me) — and three musical artists — concert pianist, harpist, soft pop musician. Featuring champagne and homemade truffles too!

For more details and a glimpse at some more of my work in this theme, you can read the description in the new photography section, as well download the invitation.

It snowed all day yesterday, and well into the night. The whiteness outside reflects the sky and has filled my house with bright light. It’s the weekend and I’m awake.

I’ve fallen in love with smoothies. They are usually comprised of three bananas, three tangerines, a third of a pineapple, yogurt, juice, and frozen 4-fruit berry or summer fruit salad. I have three a day. This makes me poo like crazy.

Life has been exhaustingly busy. The photo sessions are over, post-processing is done, and my pictures are all printed. The only thing left is to get them framed. I had my first session with my psychologist. I’m cancelling my Tai Chi tomorrow. I have to plan my relaxation, and this doesn’t make it very relaxing.

This weekend I hope to:

• catch up on my e-mails
• fill out a bunch of forms my psychologist gave me, including a multimodal life history inventory
• order some Moo cards
• work on a client’s website
• add a photography/portfolio section to my site
• fit some fun in there somewhere

Next week is going to be even more crazy, no pun intended. Monday I’m meeting with the framer, Tuesday and Thursday I have Tai Chi, Wednesday I’m having dinner at the gallery and meeting the other artists.

I haven’t been sleeping well. In the midst of all this sociability, I’ve been battling my anxiety. It’s filled me with a quiet determination, but the long exposure has worn me down.

When a man is full, what can he do?

Burst.

—Zorba, the Greek

Or in my case, overflow.

I started crying in class. Thankfully, no one noticed. People can get awkward around a crier. Unfortunately, suppressing a good cry is as unsatisfying as stifling a sneeze.

A lot of people having been saying the wrong things to me lately. On top of that, the abundance of interaction I have with people — a side-effect of my projects — is leaving me drained and overstimulated.

I don’t even have time to deal with this. I have to put it all aside, because there are more important things to think about right now.

At the bus stop, I realized that I have a tendency to brood. I don’t listen to happy songs to get me out of the mood. It’s all minor keys and lemon peels, so I can help it run its course.

It’s been a rough week.

Sometimes, a part of myself spills out.