Red Cedar

Autumn not quite frost, some hot days still promised before the dark snaps shut bringing rain to cleanse the dust of summer. Almost, and then not quite another year. At least the flags are not flying half-masted on this trip. This city, a reminder of nationhood in a way Vancouver is not. Military, civilian, citizen to and fro as though the country depends on these orderly streets and politenesses. Flat landscape and river channeled into a picturesque canal – nothing left unbound – no foreboding rock to close off distance. This location chosen precisely for its lawful possibilities, no place for civic unrest to hide, a city onto which an emergency plan is easy to impose.

It is not that I hate it here, for it is an easy city to find oneself alone and wandering. Safe in its well-lit costume of civility while only scant hours away lie the crucial heartbeats, the edgier towns of Montreal and Toronto.

People here are not afraid of their streets, making eye contact with the surety they will not be asked for change or accidentally shot. A jovial judgement in each eye knowing so many here are temporary on any given day. The town where one comes to do business before returning to the messier world of home. There is so much well paid work here and housing, it is easy to see exactly what government money can buy. So different from the US counterpart of DC which contains still a large and ragged population of those without.

It is both comforting and banal, where the history of a country carved from wild is contained in museums rather than contested. It was taken so much longer ago then where I’m from, a river valley paved and overbuilt with gothic architecture. The country sprawls outwards from here, thankfully some of it barely touched by the petty pens of decision-makers. But still, it is this which which wishes to imprint on every rock and tree. Turn lakes into tailing ponds and rushing rivers into energy controlled by a hand on a switch.

There are many ways, of course, to take a place to mind. Many impressions contained within this one. And still I have to hold back a laugh when my friends here tell me about the dangerous parts of downtown. The worst enemy here is not more than boredom or bad food.

Ottawa on Dwellable

What is the sound of hotels? Ambient loneliness pumps through heating vents and air conditioning units. Drips down the inside of window panes steamed against the cold on the nights too frozen to venture out. To travel for work only makes these whispered rooms only seem more existentially empty, for there is no point besides sleeping in another town you have not chosen to be.

There are people who come to these rooms armed. With cans of Lysol to ward off the misdeeds of those who came before them. With their own bedding, so they can strip off the covers in an effort to avoid the DNA of another. With ear plugs and eye-blinds to replicate the darkness of their own rural home. All strategies for coping with the anonymity. The sense that you could slip away here and not be noticed missing until after your check out date. That unless the maid came across your blood-spattered body wedged under the bed, no one would know until the killer was long gone.

I have an anxiety about sleeping in rooms with two beds side to side, so much that I make a special request against it when booking. If ever I am to have a night terror, awaking to the glowing digital numbers drowning me in red insomnia, it is in a place with two beds. Reminding me of my singleness, my aloneness – in a room that sleeps four there is only me. And the only me doesn’t want to be reminded of those who were there before. Or those who might mysteriously appear in the next-door bed between midnight and three. A strange hump under the covers, or the unexpected flush of the toilet, light shining out from under the closed bathroom door.

I am not one prone to nightmares nor do I possess a fear of the dark. But the rattle of the air unit, the sound of those above and beside brushing their teeth, the muffled drone of multiple channels being watched at once, the strange clicks and scratches in the hallways at night. Each a small thing to skitter against my brain. A world set apart from the cities in which these hotels sit.

Yeesh. Work. Wow.

I’ll be glad when this week ends and my presentation in Ottawa has been delivered to all the right people. Then I can start on the next bit which my project manager says is up to me. Whatever part of the project I want to work on next. I’m so far impressing him, but I’m not sure about the higher-ups I meet with later this week. Part of my nervousness stems from that I don’t produce volumes of paper to justify everything – I just put forward proposals that make sense to me and if people go – wow, yes! Then it means I’ve hit on something useful.

Mostly that’s what happens. Making a hundred flow charts to show audience-subject relationships seems like a waste of time, and my brain has a natural tendency to index and categorize without writing it all down. That is, information architecture comes naturally when I’m given the freedom to design from scratch – like other creative processes. But there is another consultant on this project whose style is to produce reams of paper.. so I’m afraid of looking like a slacker (what do you mean you do most of your work in your head?)

But! On the plus side, there is a prototype to demonstrate for my aquatic species application which I’m excited about. I can’t remember the last time I worked on something for money that I was actually this tickled with and I can hardly wait to show y’all when we get it built a bit more.

And otherwise – it’s all been organizing for play 🙂 Next weekend is the Flying Folk Army party at my house – so if you didn’t get an email invite and want to come let me know and I’ll give you the info. Potluck, music, perhaps even a BBQ – and drinking. It’ll be great.

And then Anna’s babyshower the weekend following in Victoria (which I am assisting with from afar) – for which I finally sent out the e-invite for last night.

Once this week clears up I promise I’ll post about things other than work again!

Finally, I managed to go to Palestinian Cuisine which is just around the corner from my house at a time when it’s been open and wow, I’m happily impressed. Jasmyn, Kevin and I just ate a ton of food there including cabbage rolls, stuffed grape leaves, baba ganoush, lots of salad and a lentil/rice pilaf which were all super tasty and not too expensive (vegetarian entrees are $9.50). It’s vegan friendly (if that’s your thing) and owned by super-nice people. I’m just posting here because I want to encourage support for one of the few non-yuppified places in the Drive area. Located at Victoria and Grant, it’s worth a check out though I don’t know their hours. (They also do good coffee as they used to be a cafe only). I think I have a new favourite Saturday lunch spot.

I’ve got a largish television with a built-in VCR that I’m going to cart into the alley or post on Craigslist if no one wants it.

It measures 24X23 inches and is 20 inches deep. Please let me know before the end of this weekend if you want it, I will happily drop it off to you if you do and can’t pick it up. It works fine but I don’t want it in my house anymore.