For some reason, today I have camp songs in my head. I imagine this is because of the weather, which is more than just a little reminiscent of those mornings when I used to load onto a school bus and head down to Harbourfront. There, hundreds of children would converge and board the ferry to Ward Island. I used to love Island Camp (with the exception of one councilor who told me I had "huge" earlobes). But it was the bus ride that was full of singing. And, of course, there was also sleep-over camp at Kemur where we'd sing around the campfire. Each camp had its own selection of songs, but there were some common to both. For instance, "The other day (I met a bear)", and "My eyes are dim" (the latter being one of my favourites). Island camp had "the Aardvark song" and a particularly long and harmonious version of "Ship Titanic", while Kemur had "Whooping Cough" and the rudest versions of "Ain't no flies" I've ever heard. I can stun people with my raunchy rhymes.

Thinking about Island Camp makes me want to visit the Islands again. I recently saw someone's photographs of the hedge maze and it's actually TALL now. For years, I could see over it and find my way so easily. The fact that it's over my head is very exciting. I just need to find a day to go do it. If I weren't going to Juliane's bridal shower tomorrow, I could do that. Oh well. I signed on for this wedding business - it's too late to back out ! Actually, it's a shower with a hat theme, so I'm going to see if I can find a propellor beanie after work, and if not, I'll just make a tinfoil hat to keep out the alien mind-reading/controlling rays. I'll certainly, um, stand out.

In other news, utterly unrelated to camp songs, I've been perusing the City of Winnipeg website, which has some really interesting census information about it and what not. I've heard things about Winnipeg's downtown and north end that aren't charming, and the maps pretty much spell it out. So, since the Manitoba Museum is, I believe, located in or around the downtown, the key will be to find a place that is close but not in rough shape. Happily, I may have a contact (if not a potential landlord) so hopefully this won't be too much of a challenge.

First of all, a lot has transpired in the last ten days, and I am guilty of ignoring this journal in favour of, well, doing other things. I shall endeavour, now, to talk about a few things of note. Before I do that, I would like to boast that I updated my operating system and ... Natasha is seemingly fine. I will have to download a new driver for my digicam card reader - the other was specifically for Windows 2000. Also, now I can use a couple of the programmes I installed a few months back that couldn't work with my old OS.

Last week, my friend, Cat, from the Fleming course, came and spent the night. She was back in town for her (un)Convocation. Technically, she isn't allowed to graduate until she completes her internship, which won't be until December, but it was important to her to cross the stage with her friends looking on, so she crashed the ceremony. Once in the room, the organisers couldn't really tell her to bug off, especially with her parents in the audience. So, she got a robe and crossed the stage with her classmates and friends and was awarded a piece of paper that said, "You will receive your diploma when you return your robe," or something to that effect. The temptation to take the robe was potent, though, since technically there was no diploma for her to collect. Of course, Cat is a good girl and did not give in to her base instincts.

Having her here was fun. Usually, time we spent together was for various projects, so anytime we got to just futz around and have fun was a real bonus. We watched some Ghost in the Shell: Stand-alone complex, talked about nerd things like Star Wars, D&D, and such, and generally had a nice time. She did offer some rather disturbing news; however, which has caused me to ponder the appearances of people and how we really cannot tell what goes on inside a person's head.

One of her roommates, who I will leave nameless, a fellow with whom I've spent several evenings, conversed with, is facing charges for kiddie porn. His girlfriend, who works with troubled children of all things, was using his computer and stumbled upon a single image of child pornography. She told him that she would report it to the police and he went with her. I guess he figured it would make him look like it was an accident, like the file had been piggy-backed among others and hidden until she found it. Instead, his computer was seized and the police found over 53,000 pornographic images of which "a significant portion" were child pornography. Needless to say, she left him immediately, and everyone else in the house has been wiping their computers in case he downloaded material onto their systems, too.

This bit of news has really been troubling to me. The guy in question is an average guy in his early twenties who, from all accounts, had a typical relationship with his girlfriend and an amicable relationship with his housemates. Aside from being a vile slob, he just seemed like any other guy. Now, I didn't know him particularly well, but his ex says that once she found out about his stash certain things he'd done or said began to trigger alarm bells, which at the time they occured, she dismissed. So, for the first time, I am aware of how insidious pedophilia is. I have a couple of friends who were molested as children, but I've never known someone who was on the other end of things. Sure, these were pictures and not real children, but how do I know whether he ever molested any? And, regardless, in these images, children are being abused - real children - and in my mind, there is very little difference between being the molester and getting off on someone else's child abuse.

In other much happier news, I am now riding horseback regularly again. Once or twice a week as time allows. It is a pleasure and I feel much healthier of both mind and body. It is my form of meditation. My mother gardens. I work with horses. Making that connexion with another being is so important - not as a pet, but as a partner. Yes, I felt that way with Willi, too, so maybe riding horses again is helping to heal the scar. At any rate, I am loving it.

As well, this past Saturday, I was an usher at my friend Nicole's betrothal. She was committing to her partner, Dan, whom I like very much, and the event was really lovely. I'd never attended a Pagan wedding/betrothal before and I don't think I could have had a better example. The ceremony was held at Guildwood Park, by the lake, in Scarborough. The setting was gorgeous and strangely romantic in a pre-raphaelite sort of way. Birds were singing and the weather was fine. The guests were all part of the ceremony in a much more harmonious way than any other service I've attended. There was no preaching at, no feeling of holier-than-though, like we were lucky to be invited to something above us... No, here we were all welcome, all encouraged, and invited to wrap ourselves in the mantle of love and respect.

Whew. Heady stuff, that.