Queries of a Confused American

As time drags on...

2009-05-01T12:12:00.002-04:00

One might become very jealous upon hearing that my summer break stretches from mid-April until mid-September. A full five months of relaxing on the beach eating watermelon and drinking...lemonade, in my American homeland.
Thrilling.

In fact, I'm dreading the upcoming four months. (The half of April has been eliminated due to it having already passed, and I'm going back to school two full weeks early in September because I just can't stand the thought of being here any longer than is absolutely necessary. So four months.) I'm traveling too much this summer (four weeks in May/June, two weeks in July, two weeks in August, plus probably another two in June) to get a real job, so I have gone groveling (not) back to my longtime position at the Ice Cream Shop. Thrilling, all around. In fact, I quite enjoy serving delectable treats to strangers, and upon receiving a raise this summer, don't mind the work at all. Here's the catch: This is not a full-time position. So far I've worked...seven hours in a week. Which has resulted in my days looking more or less like this:

11am, wake up to the dulcet tones of construction men in my house
noon, feed. Then surf whats on television
3pm, brother comes home, annoys me
5pm, nap
7pm, dinner with fam, including Turk
730pm back to television
2am bed

This is a very healthy daily schedule (NOT) and also makes the most out of my time (NOT). Sometimes to change things up I do errands with my father, including grocery shopping. Actually, I hate grocery stores. A lot. I've decided to practice my guitar every day (I'm awful at it, I usually practice for ten minutes and then get discouraged) and to exercise every day (pogostick). Neither of these are likely to happen. Even reading a book seems like too bloody much effort while the TV remote is right here next to me.

The point of this post is to say that I am wasting away in an American wasteland where there is nothing to do (seriously, I just called someone I know who happens to be around right now and we decided to get together this afternoon and then thought for five minutes about what we could possibly do together. Result: I'm going to go watch television and be a bum at HER house.) I want to go back to the NORTH!
Despite the weather.
This sucks.
The end.

News flash!

2009-04-16T00:07:00.001-04:00

Back to original belief: Men and women can't be friends.

oh-ten hundred

2009-04-01T22:23:00.002-04:00

Sometimes I get to thinking about time.
This usually happens when the school year is ending, which it is now.
I don't really know what happened. The last two years, since I finished high school, have gone by very quickly.

That actually isn't what I want to talk about. It's the incredible warp that takes place when time and relationships have when they interact.

I lived in Chicago for seven years. There were people I knew the entire time I was there, people I was friends with the whole time. Yet, somehow I was nowhere near as close with them--I didn't know them as well or like them as much--as I was with the people I met at school last year. If I lost contact with one of those old friends it wouldn't be a big deal, it wouldn't upset me, or change my life. If I lost contact with one of my friends from university (which I won't let happen anyway) it would kill me. As with anything there are people I know and am not friends with, but my friends? That would devastate me.

Somehow in a few short months, eight last year and then eight again this year, I met, befriended, and got to know the people whose weddings I'll go to, whose children I'll meet, and who have I'm sure have affected the course of my life staggeringly.

I don't think that two years ago, when I still lived in Chicago with my parents, I was expecting this to happen.
I'm glad it did.

All this is to say that sometimes life throw you a curve-ball, someone tells you something you weren't expecting to hear, and it fills you with joy or sorrow, or results in you spending your evening crying or worrying.
Sometimes you're too far away to do anything about it.
And that sucks.
And when its someone you really care about, sometimes time drags on and on until you hear from them again, and make sure they're really okay.

If you're someone who knows me, and I've met you as an adult, thank you.
If you're someone I don't know, I'm surprised you're reading this.
If you're someone I know but met as a teenager, good luck.

Friends?

2009-03-04T20:28:00.002-05:00

I continue to repel men. Like bug spray.

Like many young women out there, my primary belief about relations between men and women came from none other than "When Harry met Sally."
I'm considering shifting my guidebook to something more along the lines of "He's Just Not That into You," which as a film doesn't even come close to the genius of Harry and Sally, but as a philosophy...who knows.
Basically, men and women can't be friends.
Except they can because (and this is the part they never tell you) sometimes he really just isn't interested.
I guess I should have been better prepared for this possibility.

Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!

2009-03-01T20:22:00.003-05:00

So my housemate, R, has some friends over. One of them I know and don't much like, and the other I don't know. They're science people. R and C, who was also at dinner, grew up in the great wilderness, on farms. R raises sheep...I don't think C farms animals, but she has pets, which is basically the same thing.
The thing about me is I don't much like animals.
I don't really see the need to distinguish among them. I don't eat pork because it isn't kosher, not because of some belief in the similarities between myself and Babe (or similar.)
The conversation at dinner, I have no earthly idea why, was about dead animals.
The idea of dead animals doesn't gross me out at all. I'm not especially eager to see roadkill up close and personal if you know what I mean, but thinking about it isn't a problem. Then again, I also don't need to brag about my encounters with dead animals. Or animals of any kind. Why? Because I DO NOT CARE. I don't. I believe there is no section of human life about which I don't care quite like animals. And it doesn't have to do with the environment. I actually quite like the environment, I'm not someone who advocates chopping down rain forests despite the animals and birds or whatever that are living there. I just think that the best thing people could do for animals is leave them alone.
I don't know. My brother had gerbils and mice or whatever growing up; every single one chewed through its plastic caging in order to escape. My cousin has a rat now, same exact thing. I watched it last time I was at her house. The thing knows what its doing. It chewed right at the clasp of its cage. It wasn't hungry, it wanted to escape. Dogs are the same, but far, far stupider. I guess I don't mind cats that much. Anyway, I can't imagine really why anyone would want a pet. I just think owning animals and keeping them in cages is sad. Maybe its just me.
In a similar vein, the stranger-girl at dinner was telling a story about people in China eating dogs. Everyone in the room was aghast. Whatever, I don't care. I'd eat a dog if one was put in front of me. Probably I wouldn't eat the whole thing, but I wouldn't refuse to try it on moral grounds.
There was only one person in the room who doesn't eat meat, so I couldn't understand why this group of people who has no objection to eating cows, pigs, chickens, whatever, had such a visceral reaction to the idea of eating dogs. They're dumber and more annoying than cows and pigs.

The evening culminated, basically, in C, who I am very good friends with, trying to tell me a story about how her dog died in November and they couldn't bury it because the ground was frozen. I actually cut her off. I felt bad, but I don't know what the response to "my dog died" is. I had an imagine while she was telling this story of her telling it and me standing there, not sad like she wanted me to be, but just eager for it to end. So whatever, I cut her off. She knows I don't like animals.

I don't think this makes me a bad person either. I think a person who is fine eating beef but can't stomach the idea of someone halfway around the world eating a dog is a hypocrite. I think animals would be better off if they lived not in cages and not with people. My favorite animal is the elephant. You show me a dead squirrel in the street, my first reaction isn't going to be "how sad" but rather "how do I not get squirrel guts on my shoes?" I don't know. People whose pets mean as much to them as their parents do just don't make sense to me.

That is all, end of rant.

A city so nice they named it twice.

2009-02-21T17:57:00.003-05:00

Well, I have returned from my reading-week excursion to NYC, where I went with my best friend (B) who is from BC and therefore had not been to New York before.
I have been to New York many, many times before.
It was very different to be there as a tourist, though, and a pseud0-adult one, at that. Strange to be unable to drink when we went to a club for a concert one evening and again when we went out for really outstanding Italian food (the waiter brought us a wine list, at least. He thought we were Old.) We took the subway all the way downtown to see the Statue of Liberty and all the way uptown to see friends at Colombia, who showed us where to get a slice of pizza twice the size of your face. (This was quite possibly the highlight of the trip for me. There truly is nothing like New York pizza.) We went into Tiffany's across from the New York Stock Exchange on Wall Street and, despite our ragged appearances (it was raining) were permitted to look around the store.
We even saw Phantom of the Opera.
And my French Grandmother.

Overall a successful trip.
Though I'm sure it resulted in about the most boring blog post ever.
Sorry.

Life...or similar.

2009-02-14T01:31:00.002-05:00

I'm really not the type to write a mad, feminist, lonely-girl rant about Valentine's day. To be honest, I don't much care about the holiday. I think it's a little amusing that these Saint's days have become so important in popular society (St. Patrick's day is another), but the thing is, I don't really give a damn about St. Valentine, and I don't know if I would even if I wasn't a lonely-girl type.

Last year on Valentine's day the following things happened:
1. Our don (R.A. type dorm advisor) made us chocolate covered strawberries.
2. I got a card from a secret admirer. It turned out that it was from my aunt (not as exciting), but I didn't find out until May. It was a red card with a heart on the front that had been cut out of a map of the area in England I was living in. Inside there was just a question mark. Apparently my aunt had found someone in England who did this sort of thing and told her to leave the inside of the card blank so I could send it to one of my friends. Neither I nor the artisan got this message, though (how would I have known to pass it on?) and so I got the thrill of a potential secret admirer.
3. A tried to send me flowers. He tried to send me roses, his sister told me. I'm glad he didn't, it would have been a terrible waste of money. (He was unable to because he doesn't have a credit card.) After the initial shock of someone actually spending money on me had worn off, I think I would have quite appreciated the gesture. The thing is, I'm crazy about A. He's a guy from home. He's a bit younger than I am, so is still at home. We aren't, you know. Involved. But still, I'm crazy about him. I imagine he is too, if he's trying to send me flowers for Valentine's day. I miss him like crazy, but I guess that's how it goes.

This year on Valentine's day the following things are likely to happen:
1. I will go shopping (for liquor.)
2. I will cook food (actually, a friend of mine is going to cook the food. And drink the liquor, I expect. But there will be homecooked food. Chicken, potato salad and cheesecake. We are healthy people.)
3. My best friend, B will come (HURRAH.) and I will take her out to a bar to show her off to all the people who do not get to come spend the week in New York with us.
4. A may or may not successfully send me flowers. I may or may not successfully recieve the Valentine's package my father sent me on Monday. I may or may not have a secret admirer.

We'll see how it goes.
Thankfully, Jews don't have saints, so my beef with Saint Valentine probably isn't going to affect my chances at a happy life.
Well. We'll see.

Weekend.

2009-02-08T22:30:00.002-05:00

This is pretty much how my weekend went:
Thursday night, R leaves for New York City. She went to a concert. No R this weekend.
Friday morning, C leaves for Buffalo. No more C. This means I am home alone all weekend with T and M. Apprehension is high.
Friday lunch, eat with M. Mac and cheese. Have a lovely conversation in which she doesn't once bring up his boyfriend and his inability to brush his teeth. M&M (the boyfriend is also M) are kind of a gross couple. More later.
I'm sure that at some point on Friday I try to write my politics essay. I expect it was probably frustrating in the extreme, as not only did I not succeed in writing it, but also I blocked it from my mind.
More Friday afternoon: discover a text from S. She has a date. With who? With the hot guy from the Shakespeare play that everyone has been crushing on for a month. I do not know how this happened, but S is pretty hot and def. has a lot to bring to the table, as it were, so try not to be jealous. (S reads this blog sometimes: I am not jealous of your new Main Squeeze.) Begin to feel down on self because all friends have acquired boyfriends. Just in time for Valentine's day.
Friday evening, get dressed up. Am going to opera. Go to dinner with a friend first. She lives very far away, so I drove to pick her up, and then to dinner, and then to the theatre, where we watched a lovely opera. However, she ditches me immediately afterward for people she apparently likes better. This was offensive, but there were people I liked better there also, so we split. She left her leftover dinner in my car. See S and date at the theatre. They match. Same haircut. Am no longer jealous, they look good together. Am happy for S. Somehow a group of people that includes me ends up going to a bar. This is a group of my friends plus most of the cast from the opera. They are a lively crowd, to be sure. I end up going to the bar with them, despite having no desire to drink (as I drove.) Go. Sit next to a girl who I know who orders a beer, a pickle, and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with vanilla ice cream. I am not kidding. The PB&J was pretty good. This group of people disrupts the bar thoroughly, doing everything from singing "La Vie Boheme" to pole dancing. Good times, I suppose. End up driving people home. No surprise.
Later, at home. Manage to put my friend's leftover dinner in the fridge and leave mine sitting out next to the fridge.
Proceed to watch television with housemate, T. Ended up with Grey's Anatomy, which I hate. The plot: He was going to ask her to marry him. Nothing to make me feel good about myself like television engagements. Went to bed.

Saturday
Wake up. Remember that S has a Main Squeeze. Go back to bed.
Later, wake up. Rembmer I'm supposed to be writing a paper. Go downstairs, excited about leftover thai from last night. See it sitting not in the fridge. Throw it out (was chicken.) Die a little. Make bad rice with soy sauce. Eat. K calls, she is downtown. They have beavertails. Am jealous. Don't, however, go downtown. Return upstairs. N messages, saying she wants lasagna. LASAGNA? Seriously?
Later, discussion about lasagna has continued. N and I have decided to make the following:
Humus and vegetables. Lasagna. Garlic bread. Brownies.
Realize my oven is broken. Die a little more. Message K, ask to use her oven.
Later, have writting paper (not.) K shows up bearing gifts of a beavertail. Joy abounds.
K and I drive in car to her house. N meets us, we go to the legit grocery store (there are three in town, one sucks a lot, one sucks a little and one is fine. The fine one is far away, I have to drive. Fortunately, I have the LRS, and can drive. Also, I deserve this, as I am afraid of grocery stores.) Spend an hour buying lasagna supplies.
Return to K's to use her stove. Unpack supplies. Discover that her housemates are on carb-free diet. Pity them outwardly, but irony is such that laugh at them inwardly. Also, do not like K's housemates. And we were eating 100% carb meal.
Cook. Successfully. There were three of us, and we were a little snippy, I will not lie, but we cooked and it was good. Then we consumed. A lot. A nauseating amount. Basically, we practiced True Fat Kid Behaviour.
Later, Cleaned up, packed up, dropped K at Rx's for a movie, dropped N at home. Came home. Was alone. Worked on paper.
Later still, rediscovered once-fave television show, BIG LOVE. Is outstanding. Watched three episodes. Not productive.
Also discovered that I potentially have an ear infection. Thrilling.

Sunday.
Get up. Work on paper.
Lunchtime, go to breakfast in the caf. Am sitting with people (K, N, etc.) S's Main Squeeze comes over and sits near us. I "met" him the other day, so I think he eyed me but did not say anything.
Go from breakfast to meet S to see New House. Discover that in fact Main Squeeze had seen her not long before. Am embarassed about not saying hello.
See New House. Like it better than last time. Am assigned room I wanted. Hurrah. Do a dance. Discover that it overlooks nightclub. Am thrilled...ish.
Return home. Do chores (eg, sweeping, vaccuuming.) Vaccuum explodes in my face. Take shower.
Later, begin paper. T and M are not home (joy.) Am successful re: paper. Wanted to finish by 9. Finish by 9:30. Took a break for leftover lasagna, though, did not count.
Halfway through paper realize that house is freezing. Go downstairs for tea, discover that nobody turned the heat on today. Thrilling. Was 13degrees celcius. This is cold. We normally keep it at 18. Turn up the heat. Perhaps higher than necessary. Finish paper.
T and M come home just as I am finishing.
I almost cry.

R messages to say she is delayed, will not be home until 4am.
I have a Russian midterm tomorrow at 10. I have not studied.

So that was my weekend.

Bookends

2009-02-04T23:03:00.002-05:00

So I tend to have these long conversations with my best friend, B. She called tonight and was upset that she had drifted apart from an old friend of hers.
I don't know what to do in these situations. I had what could either be called a fight or a rational conversation with an old friend of mine a few months ago, the result of which being that we haven't spoken since. Not being someone with such a plethora of friends that I can just toss them around like...things you toss around, I was unhappy to lose her as a friend. On the other hand, our friendship was definitely not healthy, nor had it been for years. This is key: I didn't like her all that much.
Apparently I gave B some wise advice awhile back which I of course don't remember at all, which was that when such a thing happens you have to step back an evaluate the friendship. Sometimes friendships don't work, and if it isn't working, then what can you do?
On the other hand, part of me thinks there must be a better way. I dunno.

Anyway, B is coming in 10 days and we are going to NYC to have the time of our lives for a week. As part of this we're going to see some old friends of mine who currently reside in that neck of the woods. We'll see how it goes.
I'm excited.

Super

2009-02-01T22:40:00.003-05:00

So I have an essay due next Monday, I was going to write it this weekend.
The thing is, my weekends are three days long. And I didn't write the paper. Oops. Whatever, I was going to, but then I realized I had to actually do research first, and I didn't want to research, I wanted to write a paper, so whatever, I didn't do it.

I also found out this morning that the Superbowl was tonight. I'm not the biggest football fan out there (though I do like the American version more than the European), but I, like so many out there, have a soft spot for the Superbowl. Last year when I was living in England all the Americans stayed up until all hours (I think the thing started at 11 and went till 3 or something ridiculous) and ate wings and pizza (no chili, which is my preferred Superbowl cuisine) and drank beer and, you know. Watched the game. Tom Petty played halftime last year, he was excellent.
Anyway, tonight I went with some friends to a sports bar, ate a hamburger and fries and watched the Steelers fight the Cardinals for the Superbowl title. I was underwhelmed by Bruce Springsteen's halftime show (he didn't play Born in the U.S.A.) and was distressed to find that CTV shows Canadian ads and not the $3million/30 seconds ads that are shown in the States. I saw the Budwiser Clydesdale fall in love, but that was about it.
The sportsbar gave us free Budwiser promotional stuff though, which was cool.

Anyway, the end.
14 days till New York Pizza, my mouth is watering already.

Anya

2009-01-30T19:16:00.003-05:00

So I got my new computer the other day. I really like it, no problems so far, except it uses a different program than my old one did to play movies. I don't quite know how to make this new program work, but basically when I play anything that's in widescreen format instead of understanding that my computer actually has a wide screen, which it does, the thing automatically puts black letterbox bars on all four sides. Now, the screen on this computer is bigger than the one on my old computer was, but it isn't really big enough to watch a movie with letterbox bars all around it.
Help?

Other than that, I really like the computer. It's name is Anya, which means "The Inexhaustible" in Sanskrit. Hopefully this one will last longer than my previous laptop.

Psychosomatic Illness

2009-01-27T21:47:00.002-05:00

Was watching Harry and Sally today. Conversation topic: How long do you like to be held after?

He: You have sex, and the minute you're finished you know what goes through your mind? How long do I have to hold her before I can get up and go home? Is thirty seconds enough?
She (aghast): That's what you're thinking? Is that true?
He: Sure. All men think that. How long do you like to be held after? All night, right? See, that's your problem. Somewhere between thirty seconds and all night is your problem.
She: I don't have a problem.
He: Yeah, you do.

One of my friends is here, she's writing a paper, the topic of which is "Is Love a Drug?" She isn't enjoying writing it that much, but she's bringing up important topics, such as the drugging affects of love. We just had a conversation about which is worse: Psychosomatic Illness or Syphilis.
I vote Syphilis.
Anyone else's vote?

Robbie Burns

2009-01-26T01:28:00.002-05:00

She: It's Robbie Burns night!
Me: I know. I'm wearing tartan.
She: Another excuse to drink.
Me: I am.

I'm incredibly classy (ish) and so went to a friend's dinner party this evening, decked out in tartan, more because I have a kilt that I never get to wear and less because of any knowledge as to who Robbie Burns might or might not have been, but decked out none the less. I came carrying a fresh, hot challah (because that is all I know how to make food-wise and also because I feel my Canadian friends would benefit from a little more Jew in their lives) and also two of my housemates. We were all tartan-clad in honour of the occasion. Nobody else was.

So we got to the house where the dinnerparty was being held, and partook in pasta and sauce, salads, rice dishes, etc. and also my challah, which they (being not Jews) did not know what to do with (I'm a tearer. I can't handle challah being defiled by a knife.) To my great pleasure, J (my fellow Jew) had made matzahball soup.
A note on matzahball soup: my family does not attempt this. My mother made it once. The matzahballs were like rocks and the soup was bland. I remember my grandmother making it, but she wasn't generally around for Pesach, so who knows. J's soup was outstanding. She made the soup from scratch and it was actually good, it had flavour, and the matzahballs were...there are no words. Suffice it to say I'm reconsidering going home for Passover this year.
The gentiles didn't know what to do with the matzahball soup either, so I ate most of that.
Anyway, the fact of the matter is that the gentlemen cannot, on the whole, cook. Generally speaking they live in res anyway, and so don't have kitchens, but I doubt these guys would be able to cook regardless. Which is fine with me, as they all brought wine. Someone brought a bottle of white, which basically culminated in me having the following for dinner:
1. pasta and sauce
2. matzahball soup
3. challah
(this actually sounds not unlike a Shabbat dinner at my parents' house)
4. white wine
5. (this is the kicker:) chocolate fondue with marshmallows, cookies, pretzels, strawberries and banannas.

I have such excellent, classy friends.

Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous

2009-01-24T15:53:00.004-05:00

So I've actually met some pretty cool people in my life. My mother used to work for a TV personality, and she'd sometimes take me to conferences and things that she went to. I met a few people this way. I met a few more people during my job last summer in DC (like the Senior Senator from Illinois who is currently the Senate Majority Whip, and my Congressman, a Republican who I like anyway, who took me into the Republican Cloak Room in the Capitol Building(!)). I also worked for someone pretty cool last summer, and pseudo-famous (and definitely normal--he came into a staff meeting once still wearing his sweaty running gear). My favourite of the Famous People I know, however, is a young guy (mid-20s) who started an organization I've done some work with. He was on my trip to Kenya, and so knows me, sort of. Well enough, anyway. (I'm amazed that famous-type people know anyone. In DC nobody ever says "Nice to meet you" for fear that they've already met the person before, and forgotten about it. I know this guy, but I've only met him four or five times, and I'm sure he meets hundreds of people in his work. Still, though, he remembers my name and who I am (though maybe not where I'm from or, apparently, where I go to school) and how he knows me, etc.) I'm always amazed when I talk to him how normal he is. He isn't really, his anecdotes always involve Mother Theresa or the Prime Minister or someone similar. His social life is just absurd, compared to, for example, mine. But he's a nice guy, and normal enough. He wants me to come volunteer in his office in Toronto. I want to work at the office his organization has in California, so we'll see how it goes. I chided him for not letting me know he was going to be in town (I found out last night that he was going to be here today, and only because a friend knew I knew him.) The thing that most reaffirms that this is a normal guy to me, though, is that when I scolded him for not letting me know, he said that he remembered that I went to Queen's, but not that Queen's was the university in Kingston. Apparently he was wholly unable to put two and two together to come up with my area code.
Oh, well. These things happen, I guess.

As punishment I'm not going to spend 40$ to go see him speak in town tonight.
Whoops.

Boys

2009-01-21T20:51:00.003-05:00

I miss highschool boys. I knew great guys in highschool. I still talk to several of them. One is A, my intended. He doesn't count. I miss him like crazy, but I see him, and am reasonably certain of our relationship. (Which is to say, we never had a relationship, so there's nothing to...miss.)

Anyway, a college boy (I wish he was a man--he isn't) is going to ask me out, and I'm so reluctant that I've begun talking to the highschool boys again. BAD CHOICE. The thing is, as well as I might know this new guy, he isn't one of my highschool boys. I can't talk about things with him like I can with them (there are two of them.)
Except maybe I can and I just haven't.
And maybe I'm stressing about nothing. He didn't actually ask me out (like I thought he was going to.) Which is because I discouraged him. I brought out all my discouraging talents.
I regret it already.

I just don't want to go out on a date. I have no problem with the physical things, whatever, its not a big deal. I just don't want to have to sit across from him at dinner and have to make smalltalk, or go to a movie and have to choose between paying attention to him playing with my hands, etc. and watching the movie. And then who pays (and who has money for such activities anyway?) and who does what and what do I wear and...
More trouble than its worth.

Maybe.

BiPolar Disorder

2009-01-19T00:13:00.003-05:00

I wish there was a WebMD for computers.
Mine crashed again today (after I'd actually used it for something legit for the first time in ages, which I then thought I'd lost). Normally when it crashes it turns back on not right away but within an hour or two. Not so today. It crashed at 5. I thought it was done. I called my father, who told me to get a new computer. I freaked out. I don't want a new computer, I really do like this one. Also, how was I supposed to research a new computer without a working one? So I went out for awhile, had a very bad day, came back and my computer turned on fine. My father still says I should get a new one, but at least I got my document back.
In addition to a WebMD for computers, I wish there was a site I could go to where I could tell it exactly what I want and it would tell me what computer I should get. Anyone have suggestions? It can't be HP cause this one is HP and it keeps dying for no reason, and it can't be a mac because they don't have a delete key or a right click and I think that's pretentious and I hate them for it. I'm thinking Dell or Vaio, but I don't know.
Fuck.

At least this one is working now, though who knows when it's going to start acting up again. I think I'll go out and start looking for a new one tomorrow, though I'd rather wait till the weekend. I guess I'll see what the school has to say about it first.

Not a Box

2009-01-16T22:47:00.002-05:00

CBA16 was the winner!!! I have signed a lease!!!! It is not a cardboard box!!! I can move in May 1!!!

HURRAH!!!!

And I'm looking for a sixth housemate, so if you're interested let me know.

The Boxes are OVER!!!!

Except the new house looks a lot like a box.

First Day of the Rest of Your Life

2009-01-16T18:57:00.002-05:00

Etc.

So CBA 5, 6, and 7 sucked. We averaged about 3 a day, and I missed all of yesterday cause I had classes. Today we saw CBA11, 12, 13, 14 and 15. 11 was my fave. Great house, big kitchen, lots of common space. But it was too far away (so was 12) and so, you know. That's how that goes. CBA13 was Housemate1's fave, but it was a house for 7 people, and Housemate2 already doesn't know most of us, so she didn't want to add more stranger. Housemate3 hated CHA14 (and so did I) despite everyone else's assurances that we'd love it. By this point, however, I've spent all week doing this and not my school work, and so has everyone else, and we hate it. We're signing a lease for CBA15 tonight.

It isn't the nicest place I've ever seen, but it's pretty close to campus, and also to downtown. It's the back unit of a house that's been divided into three. There are six bedrooms, a common room, a (pretty small) kitchen, two full bathrooms and a laundry room. The owners are going to put in a second refrigerator for us and we're going to hunt for a sixth person. Rent (utilities included, which I like) is $500 a month, which is fine. one or two of my housemates are planning on being away second term, which freaks me out (what if they replace themselves with bad people? What if they don't replace themselves at all? Etc.) and I really don't like the kitchen in this place that much, but it isn't the end of the world. Hopefully once its full of my furniture and my dishes and my food and there are things I like on the walls it'll feel enough like hope that I really am comfortable there. And I think I like the Housemates, though there is one room nobody is going to want that we might have a fight over. Hope not. I'll ask if someone is willing to live in the basement before we sign the lease.

So, no cardboard box for me.
I hope.

Little boxes...

2009-01-13T23:54:00.002-05:00

CBA2 was a joke. It was less nice than my current house, which is actually looking better and better every minute. Unfortunately that ship has sailed.

CBA3 was pretty nice, the best part being of course that there was a gentleman inside watching West Wing. CBA4 was kind of a joke too. The landlord wasn't even there. We asked the guys who lived there why they were moving out and they were just like "mold. No water pressure. Sucky landlord." So that's a no-go. Really the importance of water pressure cannot be overstated.
We'd've stayed to hang out with them, though, if they'd asked.

We're seeing several more tomorrow. The one I expect to like is going to be too far away for everyone else's taste, so I think (I hope) we're going to settle for a cute little one around the block from where I live now.
I hope I hope I hope.
I'm just praying it doesn't disappear before we get our acts together.

I can't do this past Friday. I really hope we can figure something out so I can finally get my day off.

Back to the Cardboard Box.

2009-01-13T14:37:00.002-05:00

Is all a sham. We were finally (after a whole 5 days) ready to sign the lease on Cardboard Box Alternative #1 (CBA1) and told the landlady so. Which was great until she let someone else sign first! So now we're actually looking at houses for next year. It's very uncomfortable feeling, not knowing where you're going to live a year from now. It's also taken up my entire day off, which I'm upset about.

It's okay. CBA1 wasn't perfect, and also this has taught us the lesson of "get your shit together" which we didn't have, the first time around. And also that if you put all your eggs in one basket you're going to trip and fall and the eggs are going to get leased to someone with their shit more together than yours is. And then you're going to have egg goo all over you.
So I'm going out looking again this afternoon and, I expect, the rest of the week (except Thursday, when I have class instead, how strange.)

The nub and gist is that I knew one girl who went to uni in the North before I ventured up here, and she transferred to USA cause she didn't like having to find housing. I feel her pain.

I love My Cardboard Box.

2009-01-09T09:30:00.002-05:00

So, once again it is the time of the year when university students desperately try to find somewhere to live for next year.
It seems silly that this takes place in January. Last year when I was abroad it had to happen even earlier--November, when we hardly knew one another. As a result, I decided to live in res, and C, T, M, R and another girl decided to live together (though C, T and M really didn't know R and the other girl very well. I found out over the summer that my res was going to suck, and that the fifth girl who was supposed to live here was going to go to uni in BC instead of here, so a space opened up in a house with people I would never have considered living with otherwise (T and M are very, very loud, and I don't do well with noise) and here we are.
It hasn't been an easy year, housing-wise. As expected, they are too loud, and also seem to have an aversion to household chores. As I found out when I moved in, I feel strongly about cleanliness and my housemates...don't seem to. There is also not a dishwasher in our house, which helps what might have been a small problem become a very large one on a regular basis. That said, T, M, C, R and I have decided not to renew our lease (our house is fine, but not especially nice, and it's excellent location (re: distance to classes. It is very near campus, though, and so isn't so quiet) meants that our rent is really rather high for what we actually get.

So I'm scouting new housing and, much more difficult, new housemates.
S wants to live with me. I love S (also I know she reads this blog), she's teaching me guitar, she's quiet enough for me to live with (though not especially tidy, but nobody's perfect...) and so S and I are in it together. Except she's going to UBC second term next year. She suggested we include our friend, JK. He's a guy, and is even neater than I am, so this is fine with me, though he's also on a pretty loose budget and wants somewhere nicer than either S or I are really sure we're comfortable with.

K might join us, R might join us (prob. as a sublet for S when she goes away, R is planning on going abroad first term), I may as C to join us, we'll see how it goes. The thing is, W asked S, K and I (who had already discussed it) what we were doing about housing while we were at lunch the other day. And then kind of invited herself to join us.
I do not want to live with W.
She is very loud and very cheap and I'd rather live with JK and R, neither of whom will live with W...

So I have to tell her no.
Bummer. I hate confrontation.

Thank you, Mr. Gutenberg

2009-01-06T16:04:00.003-05:00

My schedule this term goes like this:
History of the Middle Ages
History of Imperial Russia
History of Jewry, 1492-1948 (approx.)
Politics: Democracy and Democratization of Eastern Europe

Then I need a fifth. I had, in a moment of insanity, signed up for a history class called "New Imperialism" which I went to and hated. Now I'm signed up for one on the Cold War, which I expect I'll like better. I've gone out and found a classics class called "The Levant from the late Bronze Age until Romanization" as a back-up, just in case.

My Middle Ages professor says that anything that happened after the invention of the printing press isn't really history. With few exceptions (the U.S.S.R., notably) I agree with her. The New Imperialism class was terrible. It was supposed to be a history class, but the professor (who seemed quite good) was floundering around for a way to convince his students that European Imperialism, from approx. 1850 until the late 20th century was history.
He failed.
I am no longer in the class.
I hope the Cold War one is better, but if not I'm sure the class set between the Bronze Age and Romanization will qualify as legitimate history.

Idolatry

2009-01-02T10:15:00.000-05:00

I was with my 8 year old cousin yesterday when her mother asked her which teenager she thought dressed better: Miley Cyrus or me.

My cousin said me.

This wasn’t a huge surprise, she’s not really the mini-skirt and tights kind of gal.

Earlier in this break I spent some quality time with three cousins who really are much more mini-skirt-and-tights. They’re all girls, ages 10, 8 and 6. I babysat them. We watched Hannah Montana. These are all very bright girls, and to be honest I was surprised that they wanted to spend their evening with me watching Hannah Montana instead of playing games or reading books. At one point I asked the eldest what she thought of Hannah. She said that they used to really like Miley Cyrus, until she took “those pictures.” (My aunt and uncle are very conservative, and I was really not surprised that my cousins didn’t like these shots of their teen idol. I was a little surprised that it had such a profound impact, however. They hadn’t stopped watching Hannah Montana, but they had stopped having any kind of respect for its star.)

Anyway, what I guess I’m getting at is that kids ought to be given better role models than this.

They should also read books instead of watching this garbage.

That said, I watch kids TV. Zoey 101, for example? Fantastic television, with a really great role model…

Bad choices and Beavers (part deux)

2008-12-30T16:18:00.002-05:00

So somehow my family found itself wholly unable to communicate with one another while making plans for this winter break. I was told that I had to find something to do with myself for New Year's other than what I usually do, which is bum around at my aunt's house. So I was going to go back to Canada. Plan was, I'd drive the 6 hours to Kingston, spend the night in my empty house, then drive 4 more hours up to C's house and spend New Year's with her.

I woke up this morning not so excited to hop in the car. I had some things to do before leaving--my grandmother came over for breakfast, I went grocery shopping (during which the trunk of my car slammed into my head, another reason why I wasn't so keen on driving today), etc. and suddenly it was 1, not 11 when I had wanted to go. My cousin and my aunt had been saying I should stay, and by 1 I was not at all sure I wanted to drive to the Wasteland. So I stayed and had lunch...at 2:30.

Then I called C and canceled my plans with her. I feel bad, I love C and this is the second time I was supposed to see her family and bailed.
But I'm perfectly happy to keep doing nothing here in USA. We play games, watch movies, eat food, go shopping--none of which I would be doing tonight if I was in Kingston like I was supposed to be.

My father is a little disappointed that I didn't go. I think he's worried about me--I don't have a problem with driving normally--but he says it's fine for me to stay as long as I do my homework. What a good dad.
So here I am blogging instead of doing my work...

Bad choices and Beavers (part une)

2008-12-22T01:35:00.005-05:00

So my best friend, who we shall refer to as B, recommended over the summer that I buy my father, a curler, "Men with Brooms," a curling movie.
B is a bit of a slut (I can't remember if she's been discussed previously) so I was a bit concerned about buying him this movie. But I did, and gave it to him tonight for Hannukah, and now we are watching it.
Together.
Unfortunately, B is a slut, and this movie is the Canadian version of "American Pie". But with curling. And beavers.

In the current scene, the main characters, who are essentially huge thirty-something bums with beavers tattooed on their chests just got out of the hearse they were riding in after having their asses whooped by old men at curling in order to remove a road block of BEAVERS.
There were so many beavers!!!

Anyway, I can appreciate such things, being pseudo-Canadian, as we all know. Beavers make me smile with a joy that can only be known by one who lives in Land of Moose and Beaver (Ontario) and expects to see beavers, moose, polar bears or similar walking down the street at random.
My father does not see the joy in the beavers.

There's really a lot of sex in this movie. Now is a scene of someone jerking off. It's very inappropriate for me to be watching with my non-Canadian father. Has led to several v. awkward moments thus far.
Also, beavers make a really stupid noise when they are blocking the road.

I'm pretty sure he's confused as to why I gave him "American Pie"-esque movie for Jewish holiday.

In other news, latkes made with a combination of white and orange potatoes and then fried as per usual, are really best.

Friends vs. Family

2008-12-18T21:58:00.002-05:00

So here I have had this blog for months and months and prob. haven't ever mentioned my brother. He's 16, still lives with my parents, and wrestles. Thats pretty much all there is to him.

Tonight over dinner we (my fam) had an argument which boils down to my brother being a jerk.

My family always goes to my grandparents’ house in New Jersey for Christmas. This is for the simple reason that my family is Jewish, and we have never been especially inclined toward Chinese Food as a Christmas delicacy. So we go to my mother’s parents, who are Christian. Then we go to my father’s family for New Year’s.
My parents generally go to Boston or somewhere similar just the two of them for New Year’s, and I stay with my aunts. This is fine (not really) but this year my brother made a fuss about wanting to be at home (which he claims is about his having to wrestle) and so my family isn’t leaving for Christmas until the 23^rd (we’re driving) and they’re leaving on the 28^th.

Apparently these five days are a HUGE inconvenience for my brother, who complained so much (I really have no idea why, I quite enjoy Christmas with my grandparents, especially since if we weren’t there we wouldn’t be having Christmas as all, which he doesn’t seem really to understand) that my father had to scold him at the dinnertable about being a spoilt brat (which I have always known.)

My brother wants to stay at home because his friend is home from university. I know this because he just left to go see the friend. There’s supposed to be a HUGE snowstorm tonight, so my brother left home (like an insane person) to go see his friend.

He had been on the phone with the friend while I was in the room. Friend was coming home tonight (9pm) from university. It sounded like Friend didn’t really want to see my brother tonight, which made sense to me—I would much rather spend my first night home with my family instead of with my friends, no matter how good the friends were. I, like an idiot, mentioned this to my brother. His response: no, Friend was just messing around. ( I didn’t really believe this.) Friend wanted to see everyone. I obviously don’t understand this because his friends are his family and I clearly don’t have this relationship with anyone. Duh.

So apparently this is why my brother is so eager to get away from his family. Because he has friends instead. Duh.

Sorry for the long post, but that was just the background.

I have been wondering about what we mean when we say “family.” I use the term only for people to whom I am actually related, to whom I have common bonds and ancestry. Apparently unlike my brother, I like my family, and do my best to see them as often as possible. It isn’t ever a burden to see them. I miss them terribly and try not ever to hurt them. Since my moving out to go to university, my brother has spent almost no time at home with my parents, who seem to feel the empty nest rather acutely.

Now, I live with my friends. The ones I don’t live with I eat with, I cook with, I sleep with, and I love.

But I could never, ever even consider them as a replacement for my family.

I have a best friend now, for the first time since I was little. She lives in Vancouver. I miss her like crazy when we aren’t together, which is most of the time. I love her. But she isn’t family.

Even, I expect, when (if) I marry, I’m not convinced that the lucky gentleman will be as much family as my parents are.

My brother’s attitude clearly hurts my parents, and it hurts me. I guess I just can’t imagine being so self-absorbed that I would be able to do that.

He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.

Pierced.

2008-12-17T23:20:00.004-05:00

So I've been thinking a lot about people who have piercings (and tattoos) in unusual places. A good friend of mine revealed yesterday that he has a fairly... um. Anyway, a piercing. And I'm trying to figure out why one would have an unusual piercing. To get noticed? To intrigue?

Anyway, I suppose this goes back to closed-mindedness and no accepting different things. I have my ears pierced but I never wear earrings (this isn't because I have a problem with earrings, it's because my ears are different lengths and I don't like my earlobes very much) so I guess I don't understand why anyone would want piercings in other places. My friend AS got his eyebrow pierced last year. It didn't really match his personality, but we loved him anyway. R has her nose pierced. I don't like it very much, but she does. It is important not to forget my best friend who got drunk last year and stuck a thumb-tack through her lip, and so now has a lip piercing which, on her, I don't completely hate. My cousin has one, too. Her parents aren't big fans. A friend from home wants to get second piercings on her ears this weekend (which is what brought this topic up in the first place.) This friend only got the first piercings done a year and a half ago, and wasn't really the bravest person in doing it. I can't really understand why she wants second ones. But she does, so, fine, I suppose.

But then we get back to my gentleman friend whose piercing departs from the usual canvas of his face. (This, by the way, is the gentleman friend on whom I am crushing. Can I have relations with someone with such an unusual...addition?) Which is where the concern comes from.

So the gist of it is, I must learn to be accepting, and not desert my relationship with my gentleman friend just because he's done something unusual to himself. I would miss him too much.
I will learn to be accepting and maybe someday I will understand.
Maybe.

USA Again.

2008-12-12T23:33:00.001-05:00

I have a few choice words to say about the USA. Esp. re: the drinking age.
My Winter break is gonna be pretty boring.
The end.

Perhaps I will at some point remember to actually say these words.

Boys.

2008-12-09T19:47:00.004-05:00

So, I have a gentleman friend who I've been spending an increasing amount of time with. This is a v. clear indication that men and women can't be friends. We are now friends. Apparently I decided that being friends is boring, so I developed what can only be called a whopping crush on him.
I don't like it.
At all.

I don't like relationships and I don't like crushes.
I have emotional/commitment/fear issues.
It sucks.

I really think that in anticipation of this sucking a lot (either me being rejected, me being a wuss, or me eventually breaking up with this particular person) someone should make me a really great "boys suck" mix CD or similar.
Thank you for you help in this endeavor.

Canada, Part Toi

2008-12-08T11:54:00.002-05:00

According to the internet, it is -9° in Kingston today. Fahrenheit. And there is snow and ice everywhere. I went to breakfast (which is unusual, but I did it anyway) wearing thick stockings, jeans, Ugg snow boots (NOT the ugly poser-boots, actual snow boots, which are great because of their snow-boot capacity, their warmth AND their incredible traction), three layers of shirts, sweatshirt, ski jacket, heavy gloves, a scarf and two hats.

I was still cold.

The concern here is about quite how screwed I am for when it gets to be actually cold in January.

Ouch.

2008-12-08T00:50:00.004-05:00

I wiped out while ice skating yesterday. Other than that it was quite a good time, being outside under the snow, etc. But then I wiped out and injured myself. By injured I mean bruised. It's v. painful (and I am v. mature, so really...) and its on my right thigh, which is fine, except I sleep on that side, so I couldn't sleep last night. Thrilling.

R wiped out and crashed onto her knees, one of which has a bruise the shape of a Star of David now.
PS, R is Catholic.

Man-Repellant

2008-12-06T01:54:00.003-05:00

It's like bug-spray.
Astonishing how well and with how much talent a not-bad-looking person such as myself is able to quite thoroughly repel men. So C and her sister (who goes to RMC and who, therefore, should know) has given me the following advice (which I have always used in every other arena of my life, I don't know how it didn't manage to extend to this one): It is better to ask forgiveness than to ask permission.
So that's my new philosophy.
Get ready, men.
(prob not.)

Now I really hope nobody reads my blog.
(I swear, I'm sober while writing this.)

C

2008-12-05T15:59:00.000-05:00

C has returned, do not panic.

Missing Courtesy

2008-12-03T19:50:00.002-05:00

So, all other complaints about my housemates (and there are many, many of them) aside, I have this to say: C is missing.

She has been having a bit of a difficult term, and as such doesn't have any exams this week but has been bumming around anyway. She went away for Thanksgiving last weekend and told us she'd be back on Monday. Fine. I got back Tuesday night and saw, upon my return, that her car is not where it usually is in our driveway. Apparently, nobody has heard from her. I'm glad I wasn't here on Monday or I would have been worrying about her that much longer.
I know she's okay (or at least, she was) because she was on facebook last night, she wrote on someone's wall. Not anyone living in our house, but someone, anyway, so I know she's alive (or at least, was last night.) But I've called her, texted her, written on her and her sister's facebooks, and she hasn't responded. Another one of my housemates, R, has also done these things. C and R aren't best friends, but R gets worried like any normal person.

Now, worried as I am, I'm a little pissed at C. She has methods of communication. She has my and R's facebooks, e-mail addresses, cellphone numbers, etc. She even has my American cell number, she could have called me within the States this weekend to let me know what her plans were. There are also things that still need to be done around the house. I need to pay January rent--C needs to give me a cheque. We also need to return our housekeys in exchange for new ones. C lost hers, so she'll need to pay for it, and clean up loose ends. The people in this house would have been happy to help, but we aren't psychics, you know? I'd think it was just common courtesy to let us know what was going on.

I understand we're nobody's mommies (thank God.) but we do worry. Something could have happened, you know?

Which brings up the question: what caused people to worry before this age of constant communication? (Everything, probably.)

Obama Maina

2008-11-05T15:06:00.002-05:00

With the election of Barack Obama as the 44th president of the Untied States, I have been trying to sort out my feelings for my former senator. He was, as I have mentioned many times previously, a terrible senator. He did a bad job representing my state, rarely voting, and introdicing hardly any new pro-Illinois legislation during his term. Almost as soon as he was elected to the Senate (in what I remember as a terribly exciting and uphill battle in Illinois) it was clear that he had wanted to be a senator only in order to have a platform from which to run for president. This upset me because I don't think that a job in Congress should be treated as anything other than that. He didn't do his job in representing my state, and I felt, to be honest, jipped.

So my thoughts on Senator Obama are pretty clear. Presidnet-Elect Obama, though, I have no opinion about. One would think that someone as attuned to American politics as I am would have strong thoughts about such a divicive (though he claims to be otherwise) candidate. I'm pretty liberal, too, so really it shouldn't have been a problem.

Obama himself, however, has been so thouroughly eclipsed by the Obama Cult throughout his campaign, that however I might have felt about him were I to know him or his politics at all is washed out by my loathing of his supporters.
There seems to be a large group of Americans (and a surprising number of Canadians) out there who are having a difficult time distinguishing between Barack Obama and God. Frankly, this scares the shit out of me.

Don't get me wrong. I think it's wonderful that President-Elect Obama was able to get people excited about his campaign. It's been a long time since so many people have been excited about American politics, and the ability of his campaign to get "unlikely" voters, and especially young people to go to the polls yesterday is incredible.

The problem is the attitude with which they went to them. "Change" is a fine attitude. It doesn't mean anything, so I don't really have any problem with it as a voting criteria. I don't really like it as a platform, but whatever. The people I have issue with are the ones who, once Obama was declared the winner last night, said things like "I can be proud of my country again." or "I'm glad to be an American again."
Would these people not have been proud of their country if Senator McCain had been elected president? I still would have. Have they not been greatful to be Americans during President Bush's time in the White House? Would they rather have been citizens of some other country? I've been living outside the U.S. for over a year now, and to be perfectly honest, I'm thrilled to be an American. I wouldn't give it up for anything.

I'm proud of America because we had an election yesterday. No matter the outcome, the fact that our country has free elections and that in January, President Bush will willingly surrender his power to a member of the opposing party, just because the People have said he should is incredible. That's why I'm proud of America. And the resons I'm glad to be an American extend way beyond the executive branch of our government. They have to do with the ease and relative safety with which I can travel because of my American passport, and my representatives in Congress, Mark Kirk and Senator Dick Durbin, both of whom spend their time in Congress fighting for the rights and benefit of citizens of Illinois. I'm glad to be an American because I got to vote in the election yesterday (though I had to vote absentee, because of America's inability to provide affordable post-secondary education). I'm proud to be an American because all my life, I've thought that Americans are reach for higher standards, and that this was a good thing.
Barack Obama's election as president does not make me more proud to be an American than I was a week or a year or five years ago. Perhaps once he takes office, I will be able to say that I am more proud of my government than I have been. Perhaps I'll be able to say that I'm glad that my country is able to present a face to the world that doesn't make people in streets in Paris and Rome and South Africa and Iraq to look at it's citizens with disgust and hatred. But none of this has to do with my country. It has to do with my government.
I have always been proud to be an American.

People keep asking me if I'm happy about the results of the election last night.
I suppose I am. Or, rather, I suppose I will be, if President Obama is a better public servant than Senator Obama was, and if he makes good on any few of the hundreds of promises he made during his campagn. But for now, I don't know how to respond when someone asks, because truth be told, the Obama Cult has overshadowed the man, and I, an American Semi-ExPat living ten minutes from the Canadian/American border, don't know President-Elect Obama from Chicago, my hometown, at all.

Oil Thigh Na Banrighinn

2008-09-27T00:52:00.002-04:00

So, for reasons mostly long-forgotten (if there were reasons at all), I decided to come to a university whose school song is in, yes, Gaelic. Our team is the Gaels, the mascot also being a Gael, the band preforms in full kilts, and the cheerleaders wear traditional-style cheerleading uniforms as you would see in most US high schools...but they're trimmed in red tartan. Upon coming to the school, students receive Tams, Scottish hats with pom-poms on them (the color of the pom-pom correlates to the program you are in: ArtSci is red, Engineering is gold, etc.) Our school song is the Oil Thigh, the refrain to which is Cha Gheill!, pernounced Kay-Ya, and meaning "No surrender."

All this to say that homecoming is tomorrow, and I am very excited. The engineers dye themselves purple and storm the field. The band (including Jake, who lives next-door and plays the bagpipe in the school marching band) will preform. And everyone, yes, everyone, will sing the Oil Thigh in the traditional Gaelic.

Also, we're playing Western in the football game tomorrow, so we'll see how it goes.

Left Behind

2008-09-26T16:16:00.003-04:00

So people keep leaving me behind. We'll make plans and decide to do something together, and then they'll go do it without me. And then inevitably when they come back and I ask them what happened, they say I told them I didn't want to go, or similar.
I'm concerned about a possible split personality disorder.

Damn Yankees

2008-09-21T23:19:00.003-04:00

The New York Times actually made me weep today. Weep. Not a lone tear but rather soaked tissues, runny nose weeping. Why, you may ask. No, not because the world is going to shit and they've finally exposed it in a front page article, because the front page of the times today (or at least, the top story on their website (www.nytimes.com) this evening) wasn't about the world or the state of international affairs at all.
It was about the Yankees.
Yes, I have wept, I have sobbed, because of the closing of Yankee Stadium.
I feel like a legit grown-up now...

Canada, Part Due

2008-09-19T00:51:00.002-04:00

I am a v. bad blogger, you have my apologies.
Actually, nobody reads this, so it doesn't much matter that I haven't blogged in several weeks.
I don't think I've commented on the very famous Ms. Palin as yet, nor have I properly conveyed the emerging truth that is the Frozen Wasteland to you.
So, I will spare a few words on Ms. Palin: I think that people, and especially the liberal media, are making too big a deal out of her. If she is a joke, which I don't think she is, it will be made clear to everyone that she isn't worthy of the position. If she is legit, the best way to disqualify her from people's minds isn't to make it out as if she's a punchline, its to teach people about why she doesn't deserve their votes. Which brings me to point number two, which is that she isn't actually running for President. I've seen her compared in several places to Barack Obama (ie, Obama is so experienced compared to Palin, he's so old compared to her, etc.) when in fact, Obama should be compared to McCain, and Ms. Palin should be comared to Joe Biden, who I have heard almost nothing about since the end of the DNC several weeks ago. I find this distressing, because I feel I might like Biden, were I to be told anything about him.
Granted, I am in Canada, where we don't get real news.

The second item I wanted to discuss is totally unrelated, and as such I feel deserves its own post, though I don't know when I'll be back on.
So be patient and you may get some news again, you know, in the future.
If I don't forget.
Or have too much work.

Canada, Part Une

2008-08-31T13:02:00.003-04:00

I have officially moved to the Frozen Wasteland (as I affectionately call Kingston, Ontario, and indeed all of Canada.) I live in a tiny, tiny room, barely enough for my bed and WonderWoman poster, in a house with four other girls, all of whom have rooms significantly larger than mine. At least I'm not in a dorm with a room-mate. The thing they never tell you about going to a large (or "mid-size" as it would be called in the States) university, is that once school gets up and running there are, in fact, a lot of people in town. There are students EVERYWHERE. Its a little scary.
I must run now, one of my house-mates and I are going out to buy cell phones.
Stay tuned for rants about French.

God or something like it...

2008-08-27T23:05:00.002-04:00

So I've been watching the DNC. I know, its always a bad idea to watch when large groups of Democrats get together, but whatever. Joe Biden has won the Veepstakes, and spoke tonight. Quite eloquently, as a matter of fact. I quite like him. My crush on President Clinton has been renewed tonight also. He's so great, I really just wanted him to play the saxophone. Oh, well. Anyway, then Obama himself came out (as a surprise) and was introduced as if God himself was decending on the Earth. It was rather stunning. I am so pumped for the rest of the campaign...

In other news, am moving to Canada in two days.
Still no bed.

The Veepstakes

2008-08-12T18:29:00.002-04:00

Apparently, and I definitely don't claim to be as informed about this subject as other people, mostly because I don't care that much, but apparently Barack Obama is planning on making an announcement about his running mate this week. Or in the near future, anyway. As far as I can understand, he made the announcement that he was planning on making an announcement by way of letting all his closest friends know that "they would be the first to know" about his decision...by way of text message.
Now, I'm going to know who the Democratic nominee for Vice President is when either the New York Times or CNN announces it. Unless Senator Obama decides to be a real gentleman about the decision and interrupts the Olympics on NBC. (As we all know, the Junior Senator from Illinois is a bit of a spotlight hog, and the odds are fairly good that about a week into Olympic coverage he will be missing it.) My brother, however, will know "first thing," as his loyalty to Senator Obama extends rather farther than my own, and he has signed up to receive this ground-breaking text message.
Cellphones are far too pervasive in our society.

My brother the Obama supporter wants Bill Richardson to be the Vice President. I may know very little about the Obama campaign, but I do know enough about politics to know that Governor Richardson, of whom I am a fan, at least more of a fan than I am about Obama, wouldn't be that good a choice of a running mate for Obama.
I pointed this out to my brother, who seems to think that Obama is going to have a hard time winning the Hispanic vote away from the oldest and whitest of old white men, Senator McCain.

Everyone is stupid in an election year. (I am a huge WestWing fan, which is where the quote comes from.) In fact, the problem is that in an election year the stupid people simply become more vocal than they are in a normal year, and so you have the opportunity to see how truly stupid the general populous is.
I don't mean to rag on my little brother in this, my mostly anonymous(ish) blog which nobody reads anyway, but I do so hate it when people speak as if they know what they are talking about when in fact they have very little knowledge or even original thought on the topic.

The nub and gist of the thing is that I'm looking forward to the announcement of running-mates, if only to shut up those who are speculating.
I ought to be finished, as this has been far too long a blog posting for my own good, however, I would like to, for a moment, say that where I was working this summer we had a pool of potential vice presidential nominees. In filling it out, I and another girl looked each candidate or potential-candidate up online in at least one, but more often several places, and evaluated their benefit to their party's ticket, etc. And even then, I still didn't know enough about them to speak about it like I knew what I was talking about.
I hope my brother is wrong, and that the Governor of New Mexico, who I would have liked to see win the Democratic nomination, won't be chosen to run as a second to the Senator from Illinois. It would be bad, I think, for the Democrats, and bad for the Governor himself. However, he might make a good VP.

Ah, America.

Canada

2008-07-30T08:53:00.002-04:00

I have arrived in the land of the Frozen Tundra.
Actually, its quite nice in Kingston, ON in the summer months. A little empty, but thats to be expected with school out of session. I've been staying in the house where I plan to live in the fall--its not quite what I'd expected, but its certainly nice. Livable. At least, after we've moved in, furnished and decorated I expect it will be. It needs some homey touches, thats all. (Its like the three pigs house. Its wood, and kind of crumbly on the outside, and next-door is fancy brick, v. nice house. Thats how it goes, though.) The location is what makes it so great--two seconds from campus, and a hop skip and jump away from downtown. Fabulous. My room is 7'x8.5'. which is tiny, really. It'll fit a bed, though, I measured to make sure. (I couldn't tell just looking at it.) So thats set.
Also, yesterday I opened a Canadian bank account. Made me feel like a real grown-up. Love it.

Anyway, I can't wait to move here in three weeks. Canada is going to be a great place to live.

Screen on the Green

2008-07-23T00:14:00.002-04:00

So I went to the Mall (the National Mall, where the Smithsonians are, not a shopping mall) yesterday to see a movie as part of the Screen on the Green series. The movie was something with Robert Redford that I didn't much like, I left early, but all this is beside the point which is as follows: the US government, as I may have mentioned in previous blog posts, sucks. This time, the reason is as follows: HBO sets up a huge screen on the lawn every Monday for movies. Many, many of the hundreds of college-age interns living in DC over the summer turn up to sit on the grass and watch the movie, which begins at dusk. Unfortunately, however, the screen is right in front of the Capital building, which remains brightly lit all night, not only making it difficult to watch the movie, but also wasting a really large amount of electricity unnecessarily. Therefore, another reason why the US government sucks.

In other news, apparently the Kool-Aid has worn off of my Senator from Illinois, Barack Obama.
Thank God, I'm moving to Canada.

Attack of the Dirty Kitchen and Slobby Roommates (Part 1)

2008-07-13T13:41:00.003-04:00

I was away all weekend. My family was here, and I was with them, having a wonderful time.
Sadly, however, upon my return to Dorm Hell, I discovered that there was mold in my kitchen. In fact, there was mold, there were dirty dishes everywhere, empty bottles of vodka, and the entire kitchen smells like a small animal died in the garbage disposal.
Which is super.
Basically, I tried to clean up, but there is only so much of that smell that one can take before one perishes of disgust. (I wonder if you can really do that...)

I am way grossed out.

Watchin' the Nationals

2008-07-09T23:19:00.002-04:00

The time I feel the most American is when I'm at a baseball game. I love baseball. I love the environment more than the game itself, especially when, like tonight, I'm not especially invested in the team. The Nationals played the Diamondbacks tonight, and neither team was particularly impressive, though the Nationals won 5-0.

2008-07-06T13:37:00.002-04:00

Let America Be American Again
--Langston Hughes


Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.

(America never was America to me.)

Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed--
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.

(It never was America to me.)

O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.

(There's never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.")

Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?

I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek--
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.

I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one's own greed!

I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean--
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.

Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That's made America the land it has become.
O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home--
For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore,
And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa's strand I came
To build a "homeland of the free."

The free?

Who said the free?  Not me?
Surely not me?  The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we've dreamed
And all the songs we've sung
And all the hopes we've held
And all the flags we've hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay--
Except the dream that's almost dead today.

O, let America be America again--
The land that never has been yet--
And yet must be--the land where every man is free.
The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME--
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.

Sure, call me any ugly name you choose--
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people's lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!

O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath--
America will be!

Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain--
All, all the stretch of these great green states--
And make America again!

Tips from Cops

2008-07-04T22:16:00.002-04:00

Good tips I got from police officers while wandering around on the Fourth of July:
1. "I try not to walk in front of moving cars. It might not be a bad idea for you to do the same."
2. "Please stay with other people when walking" (so as to avoid assault by scary DC crazies.)

These were the highlights of my night. Everything else basically sucked.
I did get some good pictures, though.

Word to the Wise

2008-07-04T02:33:00.002-04:00

Often when I am reluctant to go out (aka, every time I go out) people try to convince me using the following: "What's the worst that can happen? You might have a good time?"

DO NOT LISTEN TO SUCH NONSENSE.
There are worse things than having a good time. For example, you might end up in a gay club with lots of straight, humping-style couples, and no single straight men. They might be playing Britney Spears music. There might be forty-something year old men not wearing shirts. They (the club, not the gay men) might give you liquor.
And then you might walk the mile back to your dorm in high heels and ruin any resemblance your feet once had to being, you know, useful.

On the upside, you might talk to your far-away best friend for the entirety of the twenty minutes that the walk to your dorm might take. She might suggest the two of you go on a cruise for Christmas (if only you'll stop pestering her about coming to your school in the fall.)
Then you might get back to said dorm and have very pleasant conversations with some people for, you know, several hours. And eat mini-pizzas.

So I had a pretty good night, then. Not a total waste, anyway.
And I'm very impressed that I'm mature enough to know when I'm not having a good time somewhere and am able to actually, you know. Fix it.
Good for me.

Bummer.

2008-07-03T21:02:00.003-04:00

Life is terrible for the following reasons:

1. I have finally decided to go out tonight with the people from my program and, of course, I have nothing to wear.

2. I still do not know where I will live in Kingston. Which would be fine, but I'm moving there in, like, two months, so I think this is cutting it a little close.

3. Someone told me something very stressful recently which has to do with something I had finally come to terms with changing. Which sucks.

4. My father wants to get rid of my car. Which I am very attached to, and which I will miss desperately if he gets rid of it.

I must now go in search of some appropriate "American Gay Club" clothing. Because apparently we are going tonight to a (18+) gay club.
Yay.
...

Thank You, Mr. President.

2008-07-01T22:22:00.002-04:00

Barack Obama ruined my day.
I don't want to influence anyone's vote, but man did he ruin my day.

I work with a few Canadians, so for Canada Day a bunch of us were going to go have lunch at the Canadian Embassy, by the Capitol.
I even wore a red dress.
So did one of the people at my office. One wore Roots gear.

Then this morning I heard this: "We can't go to Canada. Something is happening." Something? "Something with Barack Obama."

Super.

So we didn't go. Why? Because Obama, my very own senator from Illinois, gave this speech about Faith-Based Initiatives.
So, that was, you know. Nice for me.

I especially like the bit about, well...all of it really. What a super reason to miss Canada Day.

And, as a result, on of the women in the office where I work and I had to wear matching outfits all day and we didn't even get to go to Canada.

God Only Knows What I'd Be Without You.

2008-06-30T19:40:00.002-04:00

My roommates were talking about their best friends earlier. I think one of them used the term "Besties" which makes me kind of ill, but whatever. They were talking about how they couldn't live without their best friends. About how that was their other half, their life-mate. Which made me really sad.
Here's the story:

I was best-friendless from the end of fifth grade, when I moved away from my first best friend, until this year (my first year in university) when I met another best friend.
I keep to my original policy, though, that one cannot have two best friends, no matter what they tell you. BF1 and I wouldn't (and aren't) still be best friends. We'd've drifted, I can tell when I talk to her. I still love her, I always will, and she's still a wonderful person who was with me for a big part of my life, but I can't image being as close with her as I was when we were young. We're two very different people, and its good that we are. We're both happy with who we are, and with where we've gotten in our lives. She'll be at my wedding, and I expect I'll be at hers, but save for major events like that and little happenings when I'm in her town or visa-versa, we won't see each other much. The person who you are best friends with when you are young isn't like the person who turns out to be your best friend as a young adult. And I expect the person who is your best friend as a full-grown adult is different still.

My best friend now (or at least, the person who was my best friend this year, I don't know what will happen in the future) is someone who makes me understand what my roommates were saying about how hard it is to live without your best friend. My best friend lives in Vancouver. She is going to school in British Columbia next year, which would be great, except UVic, where she's going, is like, 3,000 miles from Queen's, where I'm going.

She's a lot more tough than I am, and though I'd seen her cry before, it caught me WAY off guard when she broke down when saying goodbye to me when we left school. Totally broke down. And then I did too, of course. We didn't think we'd ever see one another again. The people I was travelling with after we left had to talk to me for a long time about how we were two of the most stubborn people ever, and if we wanted to see one another again, we would. And as fate had it, we did. We met up in London a month later, and spent all of eight hours together. I got to meet her mother.

And now I haven't seen her in, what, six weeks. Which sucks for me, nine times. And for her, too, probably. And she's in Canada, which means I can't call on my cellphone, I have to use Skype. And she's in Vancouver, so there's a time difference issue. Basically I haven't spoken to my best friend in many weeks.

So for once I could relate to what my roommates were talking about.

This sucks. At least I have several million excellent memories with her. And pictures...

Yeah, this sucks.

You're So Vain

2008-06-29T11:37:00.003-04:00

The fact of the matter is that my roommates eat approximately three times as much as I eat at any given time. Which is fine, except they complain about how much they eat/how fat they are/etc. and work out all the time. Which is, again, fine. Except I can't even begin to express how much I don't care. I eat approx. one legit meal a day (v. anorexic of me) and don't work out ever. I mean, I walk to work (1 mile each way) and then some every day, but I'm basically eating the same amount as I always have and should really not feel so anorexic.

Furthermore, there isn't ever any food in my room (which I don't understand, as we def. purchase groceries twice a week) and I've lost about as much weight as I lost in the first few weeks of living in England (aka a LOT)

Anyway, the nub and gist of the thing is that if you're going to eat all the time, please don't complain about it, and if you're going to work out all the time, the correct thing to do after is NOT to scarf down lots of not good for you food.

End of unintelligible rant.

Sex, Drugs and...Well. You Get The Picture.

2008-06-28T19:37:00.004-04:00

So apparently in Indiana people get married straight out of college. Apparently, many people do this. There are four girls from IU here (more than from anywhere else) and they talk (and talk, and talk) about ALL the people they know who have gotten married. Many have children.

Now, whatever. I know people who are going to get married as soon as they finish university. Some people do, thats fine. They do what's right for them. Things to keep in mind: Its just SOME people. Also, who cares?

The two girls in my living room have just finished a conversation about sexual positions. I'm pretty prudish myself, but wow, these wanna-be skanky American girls are MAJOR prudes! They talk big, but its just talk. Nutjobs.

And I thought I was coming to Washington to talk about things like Politics.
Silly me.

In other news, Friday is the Fourth of July! Also, Tuesday is Canada Day (which basically means that 1. I'm missing big parties that are going on in Canada Tuesday, and 2. the Embassy is not going to process my visa this week. Yay for me.)

Beer Pressure

2008-06-28T01:17:00.002-04:00

Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.
Unless, apparently, you are in my room, at which point it takes a full four hours before you realize that you are, in fact, drunk.

I'm not talking about me (see previous post) but instead about twenty or so of my fellow participants, many (most?) of whom are underage, and many (most?) of whom are apparently not used to or familiar with drinking alcoholic, and so generally drank too much and acted like buffoons.
Which, again, would be super.
Except they were in my room.
And I was very, very tired.

I didn't kick them out initially, because the whole concept was introduced as "pre-drinking," which would have been fine. I went elsewhere for an hour, assuming that by the time I got back they'd've taken their dressed-for-clubbing selves and, you know, gone clubbing.
No such luck.

They stayed here, and drank and/or spoke gib in order to make it appear as if they had been drinking heavily (a concept which my father thinks is very much the reality, and which I will come back to in a moment) for several hours. Which, again, would have been great, except I wanted to go to bed.
And also I don't like most of them.
And also, I didn't care.

So, anyway.
I suppose I'll get back to my father, at this point. What happened was this:
I was bored after five minutes of being with the drunkards in my room, and so did what I do best, I got pissed (pissed off, not pissed as in drunk), grabbed the bare essentials, and went for a walk.
In DC.
In the middle of the night.
By myself.
In an unfamiliar neighborhood.
So that was super. I wanted to walk to the Lincoln Memorial. I got most of the way there, to the point where I could see it, but then there was construction, etc. so I kind of gave up and walked back. Please don't worry about me, I was fine. Then, I called one of my friends to complain. Basically she told me to get over myself and be social. So I hung up on her, and called the only other person I can talk to who would be up at this hour--my father. Choice number one, no, but whatever. I talked to him for a long time. He explained that probably most of the people who were "drunk" were, in fact, not drunk, but only pretending. Why? I have no idea. Peer pressure, possibly. My father said that they do this in order to fit in, and I should go talk to them. In fact, I have minimal respect for anyone who willingly does this (again, see previous post, "Fake Out") and as such didn't bother. On the other hand, probably they had a good time pretending to be drunk ('cause thats such a fun thing to do) whereas I had a crappy time being the only person not at the party and also not asleep.

I plan on making excessive amounts of noise early tomorrow morning in retribution.
On the other hand, it isn't that likely that I'll be awake early tomorrow morning, as I'm not asleep yet.

Last thing: WTF kind of Friday night party was this? It started around 10 and when I came back up from talking to my dad (which I was doing from outside my dorm) not only were very few people still drunk, but the party was over. That's what I call lame.
Also, as part of the Friday-night-lameness debacle, someone told me I was being a cockblock. In my life, nobody has ever told me that I was doing such a thing. Because, lets face it, I don't care.

In other news, I went to the Canadian Embassy today to obtain a student visa for next year. I didn't get the visa (because, of course, it has to go through sixteen layers of bureaucracy first and also because they wanted proof that I can afford not to live in a box when, in fact, I expect I will be living in a box) but it was nice to go to Canada for a few minutes. I even needed my passport to get in.

Fake Out

2008-06-26T21:19:00.003-04:00

I was asked for the first time today whether I had a "Fake."
Apparently, if I did have a coveted Fake, I would be able to go out this weekend with some of the other girls from my program. Otherwise I'm basically confined to my room for the next three days. DC closes early.
Unless you have a Fake.

The use of the word Fake caught me off guard when I was asked if I had one. It took me several moments to figure out what the other girl was talking about, as my first thought when hearing the word Fake is of Fake people, people putting on masks (so often of bad make-up) and acting like something they aren't. I guess it’s a peace of mind thing that I've been doing with the people here, but if I think they're just being fake, if they're just trying to impress one another of if they're just talking, you know, just to talk...well. I guess if I think they're being Fake it means that somewhere in there, under all the nonsense, there must be something Real. Though I've got to say, I heard the most inane conversations today, I'm beginning to doubt my theory.

I do not, of course, have a fake ID. I've never needed one; I've never even imagined needing one. At school, everyone was old enough to get into clubs, and if you weren't you just borrowed an ID from someone older, you didn't have your own Fake made. There wasn't so much influence put on drinking that people would go to any lengths to get liquor. Don't get me wrong—many of my classmates drank, but it was legal. Anyone could do it. Nobody cared.

Now here I am in the good ol' USA, and this simple right, one which I'd gotten used to having, has been taken away. It’s like someone telling me that I am still too young to drive, after I'd gone away somewhere and been allowed to do it for a year. In Canada, where I am moving in August (thank God), the drinking age is 19. I turned 19 last week, and I can tell you that it was the most depressing birthday I have ever had. Not only was I in an unfamiliar place with a group of people I didn't know (though to their credit, they were nice enough) but this rite of passage that my friends had been going through all year, I missed. Though the drinking age in England is 18, everyone at my school recognized that once they turned 19 they were recognized as being mature adults at home as well as at school, and for that they celebrated. At home I'm still treated like a little kid. I'm still given Shirley Temples or soda or just water instead of wine with nice meals. And maybe that's how it should be. I guess I'll have to accept it, at least until I get to school.

Not to would be Fake.

Wandering in Washington

2008-06-25T22:19:00.000-04:00

Hello, and welcome to Washington, D.C., the Capital of the United States, and the epitome of what was missing in my life at school this year. Of course, I was at school in Europe, and since everyone I was with was Canadian, the number of Jews was even more embarrassing than the number of Americans I was with. In Washington, everyone I associate with is Jewish, I'm on a Jewish program, with 100% Jews, working at a Jewish lobbyist organization, and living in this fancy-pants capital of the U. S. of A., Land of the Free and Home of the Brave...

Well. I'm living here for the summer, at least. Then I'm moving to Kingston, Ontario, CANADA to go to school.
I have taken to calling Kingston the Frozen Tundra . I don't like the cold. Still, I can't wait.

So I have moved for the time being into a dorm on the GW campus, in order to spend time in Washington. GW, I would like to clarify, is the most expensive university in the country, probably in the world, at a cost of more than sixty thousand dollars a year. This dorm sucks.

D.C. is fine, though. I don't know how much I'd like living here for longer than a summer, but maybe. Its a little (a lot) boring after London, and surprisingly chill, especially when you consider who most of the people around you are, and what they do. I'm not a big fan of the Metro here--its simply pathetic after the London Underground (isn't everything?) and of course, my roommates and I can't get our acts together enough to cook food, so I've been eating a combination of cheap restaurant food (I'm very poor) and frozen Lean Cuisine-style dinners. And chips, popcorn, brownies, etc. It is very bad, and makes me have a great deal less respect for Anorexics. Perhaps it isn't the huge amount of self-control that we all thought it was, perhaps they just can't figure out how to cook themselves anything decent. On the other hand, my roommates continue to fight over who has eaten more each day, and who is fatter, so I find myself, again, being driven to the genius of an eating disorder. I just don't care to be involved with the conversation.
(DISCLAIMER: I do not have an eating disorder. I do not expect to have an eating disorder in the near future. I eat fine. Please do not worry about my eating habits. I just talk/complain a lot.)

Anyway, as I continue to explore and as I am exposed to more and more Americana and U.S. Government paraphernalia, I am finding myself less and less impressed with my country. Today I went to a press conference about the newly-passed-by-the-House Americans with Disabilities Act. First reaction: Its 2008. Have we seriously JUST passed an Americans with Disabilities Act? It has to do with eliminating discrimination in the workplace. There was a disabled Rep. there, who had the coolest wheelchair ever. He was the same height as someone standing up while sitting in it. And it was on only two wheels. V. cool. Anyway, several Congressmen spoke, and one epileptic woman, who was very eloquent and thanked everyone for the help she would be receiving from this bill. All of which is fine, except that the whole thing was made to be a stage production. I was standing with the people who will be most affected by this bill, and the people who worked the hardest to pass it through the house (which I didn't do, of course, because I have been in the city for a week and in the country for a little more than a month, and have really no idea what is going on in American politics) but these people who really cared about the legislation, and who should have been celebrating a victory at this press conference were made to stand behind those who were speaking so that we couldn't hear anything, but we looked good for the cameras. It is beginning to seem to me that the American government is just for show.

I went yesterday to a Senate hearing on the issues taking place in Darfur. By now everyone (or everyone who might possibly care) knows about Darfur, and considers it a major problem. I can understand people (mean people, but people) in the American government not considering it a priority, per se, but they know whats going on, at least. Anyway, there was really only one senator at this hearing. I guess most of them just don't care that much about it. I am proud, however, to say that the one senator there was my very own Senior Senator from Illinois, Dick Durbin. He is great.

So I guess that somewhere between my education about foreign governments, whether they are European, Israeli or Canadian, and my ever increasing knowledge about my own, American government, and in part because of the amount of show and the lack of desire to actually instigate any king of real change (especially for people who don't vote in U.S. elections, especially people who live in Africa and look, you know, like Africans)... Anyway, somewhere I guess I have lost a lot of the respect I once had for my government.

They have five weeks to win it back.
Thank God I'm moving to Canada.