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I'm feeling a bit better by lunchtime. Others have finally assembled their ensembles. Mr. Reamsbottom is “Super-Scot.” I conjure an image of him sitting on his tartan couch, drinking Johnnie Walker, watching Braveheart, colouring a blue saltire on his silver mask. It's a delightful figment. A masked crusader fills his mug at the water cooler (our cool and charming teacher from Croatia). Behind him, a Bobby nervously and aimlessly jabs his plastic baton about (our teacher from Liverpool). A Cat in a Hat (from Hong Kong) and a Pink Lady (Tofino) flip through Avon catalogues while sharing a bowl of gummy worms. We arrange ourselves to be captured in a photo, with our fingers signing peace to the world and our tongues flicked out, penetrating expectations of what we should be. The flash lights us up. We will be remembered as we were when we were not what we most often are. When the day is done I find myself walking with my smudged black nose in the air. That's right, world. I dressed up today. In front of the Century-Plaza Hotel on Burrard I give myself a brief chance to look down, but only once. Coincidentally, I see, scratched into what was once wet cement, the word "evolve" with an infinity sign next to it. What a curious thing we have become, indeed—to have begun this journey naked, rejoicing and pointing at our playful parts, to have asserted our sovereignty over the rest of the created kingdom, to have then covered up because we were cold. And now, to escape the real world and the boredom of power, we turn ourselves into prepubescent mice. Where next? I want to know. At home, I am greeted by a most beautiful rodent. I unpin his ears, peel off my leggings and slouch into an oversized pink nightie. We wedge ourselves into the loveseat, rice bowls in hand, and flick off the lights. The streaming on screen catches up to itself and I thank the gods at Shaw for high-speed. Illuminated for only a brief moment, a shadow stripes across the rug. Tomorrow I will discover the shit that’s been quietly piling up in corners, tomorrow you and I will be the me and you we most often are. Tomorrow things will move forward once again and change, but not until tomorrow.
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