The Red Shoe Diary

OK, I admit, I am a bad, bad, bad blogger. But in my defense, it is really hard to get motivated when every time you sit at the computer, someone starts nattering at you. Not easy to organize ones thoughts. But I digress.

So...I'm back in Victoria, which if you know me at all you know is not high on my happy list. Yes, I am trying to look on the bright side. Like as I might actually save some money, as there is absolutely fuck all to do here. Seriously. Thank god that the Vancouver boys seem to be on a weekend Island rotation. Thanks Scarley and Toby for giving me reason to get ass out of the house. James, you're up. OH!!! And happy birthday! Not sure if you got my text, apparently my new fangled phone does not work with a lot of the older ones. Not that I'm saying that yours is old. Maybe just not so compatible.

So, yes, I've got me a job. Nothing too interesting, it's at a planning firm, so it's familiar territory. I agreed to six months, we'll see after that. I don't know, I'm still sort of thinking about the hairdressing route. Or indentured servitute. Whatever.

I had another weird bus moment yesterday. I was sitting on the bus, all early morning bleary eyed, and the rather Saltspring/biker-chick woman that sat next to me commented on my red shoes, and started telling me about Women Who Run With the Wolves, which she had just borrowed from a friend, and how it made her realize that woman have been domesticized and need to embrace our feral side. Which I am all for. Anywhoooo.....she proceeds to whip open her grungy ol' backpack and pulls out the book, flips it open to a page that is marked with a post it, to a story called The Red Shoes, and starts reading me a passage that - albeit poorly paraphrased - went something like this...

"Be glad you shoes are plain. If your shoes are too red it makes for a very difficult life"

I shit you not. I was all like, " Are you f'ing kidding me? You just happen to be sitting next to me, with that in your bag, with that page marked, on the first day I've worn my little ol' red Mary-Jane's this year?" Not that I said that, but I was thinking it.

So she thanked me for 'being an inspiration' and got off the bus to go to her rally on the legistature lawn, on the advice of a 'lovely lady cop that told [her] that the laws are not in place to protect the people." I carried on to work, confused, somewhat startled, and very certain that the strange bus people that you meet in Victoria are their own odd and special breed.