1. I am not dead. This is important.
2. The lock-out concluded, more or less satisfactorily, when both sides met without a mediator and came to an agreement. We got almost everything we wanted, avoided giving up certain things they wanted to take away, and abruptly -- like that, snapping -- it was over. Which is good and bad and weird. I'm still getting used to being back at work, bumbling around a bit, and bored by comparison to what was going on during the lock-out. I mean, I spent a week organizing a bloody week's worth of activities and events with my associate J.G., coordinating a whole group of people to do things -- which was a great experience, for all its ups and downs.
3. Putting together the portfolio for the UBC Masters in Fine Arts program, which should be sent off sometime in September to apply for their next intake after that. I have no expectations, but I'm going to put all my best stories and poems in. I'll be applying for the short-term residency, which means I can do it from anywhere, excluding the intensive weeks spent on campus. This suits my needs for the present.
4. Working on a story. It's unintentionally smutty, but not really.
5. The "workshop" / writing session I did for Christian's first-years out at Pearson went better than I expected, though I was limited by my own innate capacity for anxiety. Next time will be much better, but I feel confident that I can do it again. Possibly backwards, and in high heels.
6. Lucky Number Slevin isn't bad, though it is an imperfect beast. It wears its Hitchcock homage on its sleeve and the gender politics are a bit dodgy, but Lucy Liu's awesome in it and Josh Hartnett stumbles around in argyle for a good deal of it. Also: Stanley Tucci and Ben Kingsley. Too many plot twists start to make the characters seem idiotic or emotionally stunted.
7. I'm going to buy new clothes this week. I've decided. I need to regenerate, and my wardrobe's having a depression at the moment. It needs fabric prozac.