Years ago, I was in the middle of learning how to play chess when Dmitri was plucked away from Cafe Wim and sent to jail for murder. Perhaps the Kings could continue the teachings? I love this image of them, it brings back old memories of days passed...

I have been more relaxed this past week than I've been since my return to Ottawa. All this time I was thinking that I needed people and action in my life, and here I am all alone in the Murray Street apartment and feeling closer to my own identity than I have in a good while. As I listened to classical music on Radio Canada late last night, it occurred to me that the real need I will always have is that of solitude and space. Sounds like a terrible hermit nightmare to some, but there's actually something so soft about being on your own and going about your own business in peace. I will always love meeting new friends and having fun or enlightened conversations, but the pure pleasure of being alone that I garnered when I was a child seems to be the foundation of me. I love being amidst the hustle and bustle of my large family setting, and dancing in a loud party, or feeling the energy bounce all over my body when I meet someone I really like, but I've just remembered how much I appreciate the other end of spectrum. Although I've missed Manon's presence, this time alone has surprisingly brought me comfort and clarity. I've been waking up feeling content and nicely in tune with my surroundings and my own life. It's a bit of an abstract emotion, like the smooth and welcome relief from a cure I wasn't even considering.

Will continue on my loner quest for the next few days. Meeting Sarah at the library tonight to photocopy stuff for class, sharing coffee over ideas for a project. Reading the Globe on Saturday morning in my pyjamas, walking to my parents' home in Hull, dog-sitting the delightful Pingu. Perhaps some cooking, and starting a new knitting project. The Fall is here and I haven't made a batch of that delicious spaghetti sauce in a long while, so I think it's due. And maybe some doughnuts or cookies. Alain, when will you send me an electronic copy of that recipe book? Could you, please?

Man, I'm so used to being alone that I'm starting to write about all the mundane and nerdy stuff that's going through my mushy brain. With all this talk about solitude, reading, cooking and knitting, it's like this blog is turning eighty instead of a year old. Yes, my blog will be celebrating its funny and awkward one-year anniversary next week. Which is both insignificant and curious, depending on what angle you're coming from (are you a family member? a friend? a stranger? a lover? a hater?). If anything, to me it's probably the most accurate reflection of my past year, including activities and events, people and places, and in true narcissistic blog fashion, my state of mind.

And art, of course. Let's not forget the art - the music, the films, the artwork, the books, the philosophy - that make this life a bit more tangible, but never too much...