Instinct

So the Olympics are almost here and I have to say I heart the Olympic lanes!!!! Bus travel has never been so speedy. As long as you're there to catch the bus it's great, and off you go to your destination in record time. I like it. Let's keep them and add bike privileges to them. I am a bit nervous about tomorrow though because I have to go to UBC for an MRI on my brain and the buses have been rerouted. I'll just have to wing it.

So in preparation for the MRI they asked me if I'm claustrophobic. I said no immediately. But now, I wish I had said "Not unless I'm shoved in a metal tube with my nose touching the top." Deep breath. Memories of sleeping in the hot, stuffy top bunk of the camper van. Snuggling into the seat tucked under the table on the sailboat. Stuffed into the London Underground at rush hour. Bodies pressed up against me at a Talking Heads concert. I lived. As long as it's not a cave, I'll be okay. A spelunker I am not.

I do feel a bit claustrophobic about all these tourists about to descend on our city. My natural instinct is to hide inside my home and make art, not sport. I've been asked to participate in a polite protest parade on Sunday. Parades are not my favorite things at the best of times, but the thought of getting anywhere near skittish riot police from Quebec makes me very very nervous. I guess you could accuse me of sticking my head in the sand, but I'm not. I'm sticking my head in a long metal tube. As long as the lab techs don't shine flashing lights in my eyes I'll be okay. Now that would really freak me out.