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.
01 May 2009
16 April 2009
01 April 2009
oh-ten hundred
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.
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.
04 March 2009
Friends?
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.
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.
01 March 2009
Lions and Tigers and Bears, oh my!
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.
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.
21 February 2009
A city so nice they named it twice.
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.
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.
14 February 2009
Life...or similar.
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.
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.
08 February 2009
Weekend.
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.
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.
04 February 2009
Bookends
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.
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.
01 February 2009
Super
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.
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.
30 January 2009
Anya
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.
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.
27 January 2009
Psychosomatic Illness
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?
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?
26 January 2009
Robbie Burns
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.
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.
24 January 2009
Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous
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.
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.
21 January 2009
Boys
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.
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.
19 January 2009
BiPolar Disorder
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.
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.
16 January 2009
Not a Box
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.
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
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.
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.
13 January 2009
Little boxes...
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.
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.
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.
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.
09 January 2009
I love My Cardboard Box.
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.
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.
06 January 2009
Thank you, Mr. Gutenberg
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.
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.
02 January 2009
Idolatry
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…
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