road biking confessions #467 and #468

#467

i'm still afraid of my clipless pedals. every time i come to a stop, my heart catches in my throat and for a split second, i think i'm going to topple over. i have to mutter to myself "unclip, unclip, unclip". and i favour my left foot. i think if i tried to unclip with my right (and i know i should ... please don't scold), i'd lose both my mental and physical balance and over i would go. the scar on my knee from my last tumble has finally healed and is beginning to fade. i seriously do not want to experience another "knee incident" and thus have turned into some highly superstitious, obsessive compulsive, muttering crazy woman every time i come up on a red light.

#468

my biking form leaves a lot to be desired. whenever i'm working hard, climbing a hill or trying to open up a bit on the flat stretches, i instinctively lean to the right ever so slightly, as if i'm in a boat. my right shoulder drops a little, and i bend my right elbow further. sweep rowers (those folks with one oar -- scullers use two) are often instructed to lean into their rigger. in a sweep boat, i row on port and thus lean to the right just a little -- not the best rowing form either, but what can i say? from years of doing this, my left shoulder is a little higher than my right, though incidentally, my right bicep is noticeably larger than my left. yeah, i'm quite the sight in a strapless dress. as i realized this morning, just before i caught myself and kept myself from tumbling into a grassy ditch, there aren't any riggers on bikes.

dear vending machine in the library ...

long have i turned to you in my hour of intellectual need. remember that time that i desperately needed a blue hi-lighter? you were there, ready to dispense the magic marker for only $1.25. and remember the time that my last working pen gave out in the middle of scribbling down yet another fantastic opening line for that troublesome dissertation chapter? i literally ran down the central spiral staircase to the main floor, plunked my loonie in the slot, and found myself properly equipped to record my scholarly musings. the supervisor(s) loved that opening line, by the way! to recount the number of times that you have been there with the lifeline of my academic practice, the pad of sticky notes, would require another post entirely.

i've noticed of late that you have moved a little up market and are now able to bestow upon hapless undergrads such marvels of technology as the data key. 1 GB for only $35, payable by VISA, Mastercard or AmEx? brilliant, i say. i can't help but wonder, however, if, in an attempt to corner your share of the burgeoning market of those ill-prepared for library work, you have made made a most grievous error concerning the stocking of your emporium of library wonders.

what happened to the peanut m&ms?!

no, that's not a note of panic that you hear in my voice, it's merely concern. concern not just for the progress of my dissertation, a project, the writing of which requires regular consumption of just the exact ratio of protein to chocolate those beautiful, multi-coloured orbs of candied goodness provide, but more importantly, concern for *you, dear library vending machine. having frustrated scholars pounding on your display glass as they face an afternoon of writing, bereft of their candy of choice, can't be at all beneficial to your health. it would provide me with untold pleasure were i to hear from you that you had taken the necessary steps to prevent this from happening again.

with the most sincere wishes for your continued health and well-being,

me.

off day

it has been one of those days. i feel like i'm one step behind the rest of the world and every time i try to run ahead a little, i trip. come to think of it, most of my week has been like this -- if the world around me is a marching band, i'm that sousaphone player whose hat keeps slipping down over her eyes as she meanders around the parade route, taking out spectators with her oversized tuba. i don't exactly know what's wrong. conversationally, i'm a flop; there's a good 5 second delay before i can get it together enough to answer. physically, i'm an accident waiting to happen (my partner and i flipped our boat *again this week ... and that's only the beginning). emotionally, i'm just missing the beat; usually i "get" people, especially those close to me, but lately, even my dearest of friends have proven inscrutable. the one thing that has been clunking along reasonably well is my work, and this, while it does fill me with a certain degree of satisfaction, also worries me. perhaps i've been reading a little too much about degeneration and hereditary taints lately (thank you sir arty c. doyle!) but i'm beginning to think that the closer i get to finishing my dissapoint ... er, dissertation, the further i will regress until i'm nothing but some kind of weird, drooling ball of human flesh.

in a quiet moment this morning, inspired by the mythology pile in G's closet, i made up this playlist. the other night she and i were talking about personal mythologies and i realized that while i have many a concrete talisman stashed away in various corners of my life, i also have musical markers that somehow manage to get at who i am. this cluster of tunes is nothing if not eclectic.

Mythology (Radio Edit)

Holland 1945/Neutral Milk Hotel
Terrien D'Eau Dounce/Paris Combo
Where Do You Go/Peter Murray
The Jackal/Ronny Jordan
Lodestar/Sarah Harmer
Je Ne Veux Pas Travailler/Pink Martini
Giving Up the Fight/Eleni Mandell
Shred A/Le Tigre
(Antichrist Television Blues)/Arcade Fire
My Funny Valentine/Chet Baker
Après un rêve/Renée Fleming
Cities in Dust (Extended Version)/Siouxsie & the Banshees
We're Not Gonna Take It/Bif Naked