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Last moments before the bell until the last letter

My back was held a month ago. At first I was almost alone in school. Afterwards, the teachers arrived, the students there already 2 weeks. The session is actually started.

Yet, in this penultimate evening in August, I feel a bit nostalgic. Funny, it seems that all these years in the school system programmed me to consider the weekend of Labor Day as the last minutes of recess. The bell will ring soon and we will return, even if the portion of dodge ball or flag is not over.

Since I was not too good in team games, I was not too disappointed to hear the bell ringing. I loved the holidays, of course, but receive new books, cover, get new pencils, a nice smelling good clears, a rule that I promised myself (without much success) to never lose a nouvelle classe, une nouvelle maîtresse qui, peut-être, crierais moins après les élèves que celle de l'année d'avant, une nouvelle place dans la classe, de nouvelles possibilités d'amitiés et de rires partagés sont toutes des choses qui me rendaient profondément heureuse. Ce bonheur ne durait pas toujours longtemps et il m'arrivait de regretter, durant un cours de maths somnifère, mes matins de liberté passés à écouter "The Price is Right", mais j'aimais les promesses apportées par la rentrée.

La semaine dernière, je voyais des élèves s'en aller à l'école pour participer aux activités de bienvenue organisées par thereof. I do not envy them. I remember I did not like all these preliminaries. I wanted to get into the thick of things, start learning for real and finally use my new my new notebooks and pens.

The sky was beautiful tonight in Ottawa. You could see the stars twinkle around the Peace Tower of Parliament. We went out with faithful friends celebrate Mathieu. Aperitif at "18" and fine dining in Health Rideau Street. I have not thought too much about my life. To paraphrase Beau Dommage, I "left my job and forgot to make me" the good red English, with laughter and mocha creme brulee flavor caregiver. I forgot que c'était la rentrée et j'ai savouré l'été. Demain (ou plutôt, ce soir), ce sera le dernier soir d'août. Après, ce sera septembre. J'imagine qu'il fera chaud, en septembre. Je me rappelle que lorsque j'étais jeune, je voulais absolument porter mon linge neuf lors des premiers jours d'école. Pantalons de corduroy, cols roulés et vestes de laine Jacob composaient bien sûr les éléments de ma garde-robe automnale que je portais alors qu'il faisait 28 degrés à l'extérieur. J'aurais aimé qu'il fasse frais tout de suite.

L'automne n'arrivait jamais assez vite.

I still feel a bit like that today, even if I try to stay a little longer this time. Tomorrow we'll see the new Woody Allen, oh miracle, was released on 2 screens in Ottawa when he is not released elsewhere. A film by Woody inevitably mark the return of autumn. It only remains for me to buy a nice wool sweater and accept that I will wait for the freshness that will certainly not happen before wearing.

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I was touched to learn, while returning from work, the journalist Michel Vastel died today. I did not know that he was ill. I do not always share his ideas, but I enjoyed the occasion, read his blog and see on TV. I think what surprised me more than knowing death was made clear that he wrote a blog entry today ...! I do not know what were the circumstances of his death, but I find life very strange sometimes. One minute, the gentleman says goodbye to its virtual drives, the next minute he is gone. I read his entries the past few days. He never complained about his health, but rather spoke of Couillard.

Michel Vastel did not see her blog as a personal account, but as a reflection of public space. I think if I was dying, I could not help but talk about it. Mr. Vastel was not a personal approach. He remained faithful to himself until his death. In his last entry, he said he was entering his land. I hope he is in them. He felt that he would leave today? Do we read a farewell letter to the blog or a letter of farewell to life? I do not know.

This event reminds me of the relationship between death and the Internet. I've been saddened to learn of the unexpected death of someone close by email. The total shock. I wonder if, at Facebook and Myspace, we will say goodbye to those we love but we no longer see through these sites. The day I die, do I want to write one last blog entry, to be present on the Web until my last letter? I do not know. I wonder.

I do not want to think of death tonight, I will not sleep well. I'm going to put me in touch with the life that will overflow (well, I hope) Barack Obama's speech in a few minutes to talk to Democrats who will maybe one day mourning for Clinton. I am sure Mr. Vastel that would also listened to the speech. And, even sick, even tired, he would have spoken passionately and eloquently in his blog tonight or tomorrow morning.