cheater.

It's settled, my coffee and a column breaks are being rudely altered. My columnist is on vacation, and he didn't even tell me.
I tried to read another today. I feel like a cheater. Sure, I read plenty of columns, but I was reading this one in STEAD of the other. You'd never hear of a Golden Retriever doing that. It's disloyal.

Well, if it's any consolation, and I'm only trying to console myself, I didn't like the new column. The lady wrote about a date she went on, and how bad it was. I'm sure, if it was me she was dating, I would be completely mortified. It's selfish to write about your friends (and even first dates you'll never see again) like that.

I kind of made it a rule, that somehow I have to keep my friends out of my stories. They're for deep background in some cases, but I'm not just going to run off about them... I guess I'm kind of a hypocrite since I write about them in my blogs sometimes. Well, no one reads these. And I'm not mean about it. Sometimes they say funny things.

Speaking of friends, Z showed me a wicked site today. It's an online juke box, so I've been listening to music all day. It makes the office less dreary.
Still stuffed up today. I think I drove M nuts at the theatre, sniff sniff. Still, it was wicked, we saw two movies. Always wanted to do that. And the best part - they were free.

Words of wisdom... don't sit in an office all day. Listen to lyrics when you hum. Use re-fillable coffee cups when you go to Tim Hortons.

vacations are selfish

One of my favourite columnists is on vacation ... well allegedly. There hasn't been a column since Thursday and they're usually every second day. It's really put a damper on my Column and a Coffee break. Of course, there are others... but I don't want to be disloyal.

o dear... stuffy nose this morning, and it's returning to haunt my tired afternoon. If I sneeze one more time, I'm going to have to take some time off... Now that I've said that, it won't happen again. Please feel free to use the method as hiccup remedy too.

I bought a new cardigan yesterday. It's kind of retro. I'm wearing it now with a bright green tank and I feel so ... 90's. Gosh, I'm getting elderly.

I thought about writing my own column today, in lieu of the vacationing writer but sitting in this office all day with those blue walls... gives me no great subject for writing. No wonder I never saw him in the office except to finish his column. Ew... you know - If vomit was blue, it would be the same blue that's on these walls. This is toaster in a bathtub blue.

Columns... what am I on about. I should be writing the articles that have been assigned to me. The never ending pile of scratched notes and books full of post-its. Sure I love history, but I prefer the research part of it. I feel that I should now have a few months to spend at a secluded cottage somewhere writing for twelve hours, then spending fifteen more on a Muskoka chair with a scratchy wool blanket, a citronella candle, endless supply of wonderful coffee and marshmallows and a view of the lake being serenaded by loons and bull frogs. Also, I'd like a quaint little stack of books - an even mix of classical and contemporary - piled beside my chair next to the sleeping Labrador. That's how I'm going to write my book - the one I'm not going to write, but say I will because I'm fulfilling the stereotype. I like that stereotype. My new cardigan goes with that stereotype. I wish I had the matching spectacles.

Alas, I should avoid being a poser - back to my typing.

O Canada

He talks about Canada like he's a blind man who has just seen a rainbow.

"The colours," said Ali Al-Bayati. "The colours here are different."
There are greens and blues he's never seen before.

The Iraqi native stretches out his arms, palms toward the sky gesturing at the surrounding trees, the flowers, the sky -- as if to say "can't you see?"

Mr. Al-Bayati says the trees in Canada are more alive than those he's known all his life. He said he can stand beside them and feel them move as if they know he's there listening.

Mr. Al-Bayati’s journey to Canada began with intent reflection on a map that he kept in his tiny flat in Jordan. It was a map of the world and he would study the coasts of Canada, the jagged islands, the country’s rivers and lakes, nearly forgetting the “prison” that he was living in.

"Canada is somehow ... " his voice trails. He smiles, searching for a word to explain what he saw when he looked at his map. He cups his hands and pulls his elbows in close like he's holding palms full of diamonds.
"Cornered," he says. His eyes reflecting the diamonds he still pretends to hold. "It's a hidden paradise. It is safe."

Safe, at last, in Hamilton, Ontario.

Mr.. Al-Bayati, 48, was born in Iraq. He became a mechanical engineer, but, like many, worked for the government.

Mr. Al-Bayati wasn't allowed to leave Iraq, because his work at the presidential palaces was too sensitive. He knew too much.

He and his wife Nidhal, 38, lived in fear.

"I can't describe it," he said. "Everybody has agony. There is no electricity, no water ... You're not safe in your own home. When you go out, you might not come back."
He speaks of mass graves and brutal killings. He says this new government has one agenda -- to kill.

Mr. Al-Bayati opens his eyes a little wider and slows his speech to carefully pronounce each syllable flawlessly.

"You can't compare it to Canada," he said. "You think every day, death will be the next address of yours."

Mr. Al-Bayati decided he had to leave. He knew people in government, and paid them to get a passport for himself and his wife. The passports were legal, but it was impossible to get them without connections and money.

They were given the documents.

They had two days to leave.

They could never come back.

Mr. Al-Bayati left his family -- five brothers and one sister.

"They are suffering, now," he said. "Life there is decaying."

His mother died after he left, but he wasn't at the funeral. He could never go back.

In 1997, Ali and Nadhal left for Jordan but it was nothing more than a move from death row to a bigger cell.

"In Jordan, if you leave, you can't get in again," said Mr. Al-Bayati. "It was like a big open prison for us."

He explains that Iraqis are not allowed to work in Jordan unless they have permanent residency status. An Iraqi, he says, is never given permanent residence.

Ali and Nadhal tried to survive. Work was rare, and only one day in many.
The couple lived in a tiny apartment in Jordan's capital, Amman, for 10 years. The threat of death was not so obvious, but it lingered. They also knew the Jordanians could find them and throw them out of the country at any time. To where? Mr. Al-Bayati didn't know, but he knew it would be their end.

"It was hard to develop ourselves there," said Mr. Al-Bayati, speaking of the constant anxiety he and his wife dealt with.

The couple has no children. Mr. Al-Bayati said there was too much uncertainty and stress to bring a baby into the family.

"We feel we are settled down now," he said. "Children are the next project."

Soon things got worse in Amman. Iraqis were being hunted and thrown out. Mr. Al-Bayati applied to the United Nations for refugee status and a chance to leave Jordan.

On his application, he had to choose three countries that would be ideal for him and his wife to immigrate to. Canada, that corner of paradise on his map, was his first choice. Next was Australia, then the United States.

After more than a year of waiting, Ali and Nadhar made the 24-hour trip to Canada on a cramped Air Bus. They arrived in Hamilton less than three weeks ago.
"We feel we are Canadian," said Mr. Al-Bayati.

The Mr. Al-Bayati's are two of the thousands of refugees who have made Hamilton their new home, and Canada their new country. Currently, there are 22 million refugees across the globe.

The couple celebrated World Refugee Day on June 20 at a reception behind LIUNA station hosted by Settlement and Integration Services Organization (SISO).

SISO is a Hamilton based initiative to aid refugees and immigrants living and coming to Canada. They offer help in job searching and training, education, language instruction, translating services, and finding a home in the city.

Mr. Al-Bayati and his wife are closely connected to SISO, and say the organization has been a great help.

Five days after moving into their apartment on Upper James Street, Mr. Al-Bayati phoned his family in Iraq.

"I've arrived," he said into the receiver. "I've arrived in Heaven."

'terview...again

Job interview numero dos.
Crossing my fingers. I could be the summer intern for Hamilton Community News. Full Time!