Sunday, a wan, stiff shadow…

The best description of Sundays, ever:

... the Princess guessed that a great many people shared her feeling that Sunday generated a supernatural depression ... Sunday, a wan, stiff shadow of robust Saturday. Sunday, the day divorced fathers with "visitation" rights take their children to the zoo. Sunday, forced leisure for folks who have aptitude for leisure. Sunday, when the hangover knows no bounds. Sunday, the day the boyfriend didn't come to the hospital. Sunday, an overfed white cat mewing hymns and farting footballs ...

Still Life with Woodpecker, Tom Robbins

i like you, do you like me?

via phronk.tumblr.com via palahniukandchocolate.tumblr.com

Numnumnumnum– privacy?

There's already a lot of meaty stuff out there about recent issues surrounding Facebook and personal privacy: a sampling here, here and here. A few general thoughts of mine about privacy here. I'm glad people are taking an interest in this.

My friends on Facebook-- many of whom I would say score well above average on the sophistication scale-- are less concerned, at least outwardly (although, granted, one or two may have already left). Today a friend commented on one of my posts: "who cares? nothing is private anymore." This kind of shoulder-shrug indifference drives me batshit insane, but I get it. It feels too big for us, it's inevitable, we can't fight it so why try? The problem is, this is exactly what permits governments and corporations to keep upping the ante on how much and what kind of information they can collect on us. Let's face it: that seemingly insurmountable beast is not the feds or the corporate power or gamma rays or alien mind control, but our stupid collective ambivalence.

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Tomboy-slut

Every now and then I'll put on a dress.

Sometimes I'll even keep it on for longer than a minute, depending on my level of determination. I'll add a pair of heeled sandals and walk around my apartment, trying to be casual, as if the act of pretending will make all of the years of resistance to frills and bows and pretty buttons to magically fall away and, underneath that, a real girl.

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Go ‘abs go!

There's a distinct sense of hockey unity in Ottawa. For once. OK, Leafs fans will probably tell me I'm imagining things, and maybe I am. But we have a Canadian team going into the conference finals, and besides, everyone loves a Cinderella story, right? I'm an Oilers fan, so that goes without saying. (The title of my blog is French, but I grew up in Alberta and speak hardly a word of it. One day I will explain this.)

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If I ever have a man around the place…

If I ever have a man around the place again I'm going to have them get a bucket and wash my hair in the bath like my parents did.

Privacy, Google-snoops, and one Crazy Lady (or Why I’m starting over again)

Lately I've been bombarding my poor friends on Facebook and Twitter with links related to privacy on the internet.

Yes, I do realize the irony in using the "Share on Facebook" button to spread the word on privacy. Which outlines the difficult conundrum we face: do we choose the convenience of instant connections and fine-tuned personalization, or privacy, diversity and personal growth? (Ian Kerr, in this interview, spoke about the perils of "instant personalization", one of them being we lose the randomness in our experience that forces us to think outside our usual patterns and therefore grow.) I would like to think there's a comfy middle ground.

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