Well, my day was shot.
Sorry Canadian taxpayers, I couldn't give my all today at work. I'm afraid I was completely and utterly useless today because of an overwhelmingly powerful craving for corn chips.
If you're thinking, "Seriously?" I can't say I blame you. I don't know if you've ever experienced it, but sometimes I get a craving for something, and I can't really eat or concentrate until that craving is sated. I knew this was one of those times, and I've been denying so many cravings lately, I knew I had better give in on this one or things could get goofy.
I went down to the quick shop in the building...they only had BBQ-flavour corn chips. I went to the quick shops in Phase III...no luck. The Uniprix? Nada. The dollar store? Nope. Everywhere I went, I was disappointed. FML. I could not focus on anything but the lack of corn chips in that enormous, oversized government complex. As a result, the quality and quantity of my work suffered.
Folks, I have to say, as of this evening, I'm still without corn chips, and it's making me crazy.
Corn Chips...
...Wish you were here.
Thursday, January 31, 2013
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
January 30/13
Uhhh...
Sometimes the phenomenal leaps and bounds in technology that have occurred over the span of my relatively short life put me in a position to question the wisdom of said leaps and bounds. This morning was just such an occasion.
As I headed to work this morning, I stopped for coffee, which means that I have to take a bus to the mall, buy the coffee, then transfer to one of the buses going into Hull. I boarded a Hull bus and took a seat, and shortly after, a teenaged girl took the seat ahead of me. I recognized her uniform immediately--one of those private Catholic girls' schools, complete with the plaid skirt and socks. She had her cellphone in hand, and was engaged in a text session, which isn't something ordinarily worth noticing, but she shifted to slouch in her seat, and the conversation became blindingly clear.
Darling Catholic school girl was sexting. At 8:45 am. On her way to school.
Are you kidding? When I was her age, cellphones were the size of Playstation controllers, and texting was not an option at all. If a guy needed to take care of his morning wood, he'd have to do it without his girlfriend sending him lewd messages while on her way to school. And the school uniform? Holy fuck, that is so cliché!
Also, her messages were lame and betrayed a lack of depth in knowledge of both sex and creative writing. Her efforts would earn a C in my class.
Some common sense...
...Wish you were here.
Sometimes the phenomenal leaps and bounds in technology that have occurred over the span of my relatively short life put me in a position to question the wisdom of said leaps and bounds. This morning was just such an occasion.
As I headed to work this morning, I stopped for coffee, which means that I have to take a bus to the mall, buy the coffee, then transfer to one of the buses going into Hull. I boarded a Hull bus and took a seat, and shortly after, a teenaged girl took the seat ahead of me. I recognized her uniform immediately--one of those private Catholic girls' schools, complete with the plaid skirt and socks. She had her cellphone in hand, and was engaged in a text session, which isn't something ordinarily worth noticing, but she shifted to slouch in her seat, and the conversation became blindingly clear.
Darling Catholic school girl was sexting. At 8:45 am. On her way to school.
Are you kidding? When I was her age, cellphones were the size of Playstation controllers, and texting was not an option at all. If a guy needed to take care of his morning wood, he'd have to do it without his girlfriend sending him lewd messages while on her way to school. And the school uniform? Holy fuck, that is so cliché!
Also, her messages were lame and betrayed a lack of depth in knowledge of both sex and creative writing. Her efforts would earn a C in my class.
Some common sense...
...Wish you were here.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
January 29/13
When it comes to TV in our house, I have sort of a rule: no cable in the bedroom. Growing up, my parents spoiled me with a TV and cable in my room. They had one too, so at any given time, three TVs could be on in our house. When I got out on my own, the TV in the bedroom stopped; I won't lie...it's mostly because I only had one TV. When Etienne and I moved in together, we found ourselves with a glut of TVs...we had two. It was inevitable that a TV would end up in the bedroom, but we decided against cable in there too.
It mostly works out okay, except for nights like tonight.
I only really insist on being able to catch New Girl as it airs on Tuesday nights, otherwise, I don't make a big deal of choosing the TV viewing in the house. I think Etienne rewards me for not being bossy about the TV by acquiescing to my New Girl request, even if that interferes with something as important as a Habs game. Tonight, he wandered off to the office and watched the game live on NHL centre ice from his computer, leaving me the TV. I've tried on several occasions to find a place online that streams the show as the airs, but the clampdown on sights like justin.tv limits my options greatly.
It's only nights like this that I feel bad enough to ponder adding cable to the bedroom TV.
Temporary cable...
...Wish you were here.
It mostly works out okay, except for nights like tonight.
I only really insist on being able to catch New Girl as it airs on Tuesday nights, otherwise, I don't make a big deal of choosing the TV viewing in the house. I think Etienne rewards me for not being bossy about the TV by acquiescing to my New Girl request, even if that interferes with something as important as a Habs game. Tonight, he wandered off to the office and watched the game live on NHL centre ice from his computer, leaving me the TV. I've tried on several occasions to find a place online that streams the show as the airs, but the clampdown on sights like justin.tv limits my options greatly.
It's only nights like this that I feel bad enough to ponder adding cable to the bedroom TV.
Temporary cable...
...Wish you were here.
Monday, January 28, 2013
January 28/13
Poor old Norman Wells.
Norman Wells is a town that sits just south of the Arctic Circle, on the Mackenzie River. I spent some time there as a toddler, and it appears that it was here that some of my more daring exploits were performed, be they the sight of a 2 year old me tearing out of the house and down the road naked as the day I was born, or at least one set of my mother's beloved aquarium fish falling prey to my early and intuitive campaign to fight against the fish scourge of this planet.
But I digress.
Norman Wells is a town of about 727 people that exists thanks to the oil and natural gas in the region. So it is truly ironic that today, Norman Wells is experiencing pipeline troubles that leaves the town without gas for heating. In the mid -40s Celsius, this is a really bad day for irony. At last report, some of the line has been restored, but not until after a day of moving all the people to civic buildings in order to keep them from freezing in their homes and offices.
Stay warm, Norman Wells...
...Wish you were here.
Norman Wells is a town that sits just south of the Arctic Circle, on the Mackenzie River. I spent some time there as a toddler, and it appears that it was here that some of my more daring exploits were performed, be they the sight of a 2 year old me tearing out of the house and down the road naked as the day I was born, or at least one set of my mother's beloved aquarium fish falling prey to my early and intuitive campaign to fight against the fish scourge of this planet.
But I digress.
Norman Wells is a town of about 727 people that exists thanks to the oil and natural gas in the region. So it is truly ironic that today, Norman Wells is experiencing pipeline troubles that leaves the town without gas for heating. In the mid -40s Celsius, this is a really bad day for irony. At last report, some of the line has been restored, but not until after a day of moving all the people to civic buildings in order to keep them from freezing in their homes and offices.
Stay warm, Norman Wells...
...Wish you were here.
Sunday, January 27, 2013
January 27/13
Sunday mornings can be tricky.
In North America, Sundays are meant to be a real day of rest. Putting aside the question of whether or not you choose to attend church on Sundays, it's the day when lots of places are closed or close early, and your chances for getting errant errands done are slim. Saturdays are for running around. Sundays are for relaxing.
So what's so tricky about Sunday mornings?
For a lot of us, we've been raised on Hollywood films depicting a young, yuppie couple in a fabulous apartment or townhouse, in robes and slippers, reading the New York Times over a cup of gourmet coffee and picture-perfect croissants or pastries while the stirring strains of Saint-Saens grace the expensive sound system. This idyllic scene has been constructed and passed it off as the dream of the middle class. The perfect Sunday morning.
Well, never mind that. We don't roll that way in this house. Etienne sleeps in, sometimes two or three hours after I'm forced out of bed by the cruel kitty overlords demanding their morning feeding.
This morning, it was cold and bright. I shuffled into the kitchen in that Hollywood-sexy old, thick brown robe and my picture perfect winnie-the-pooh flannel pajamas, hair a-mess, and fed the monsters. After, I popped a couple of slices of bread in the toaster, filled the kettle, and fired up the laptop. It's anyone's guess when Etienne would joint the world, so it was just me, my green tea, my toast with peanut butter and strawberry jam, and the NPR podcast Pop Culture Happy Hour. Oh, and the cats.
Simple pleasures...
...Wish you were here.
In North America, Sundays are meant to be a real day of rest. Putting aside the question of whether or not you choose to attend church on Sundays, it's the day when lots of places are closed or close early, and your chances for getting errant errands done are slim. Saturdays are for running around. Sundays are for relaxing.
So what's so tricky about Sunday mornings?
For a lot of us, we've been raised on Hollywood films depicting a young, yuppie couple in a fabulous apartment or townhouse, in robes and slippers, reading the New York Times over a cup of gourmet coffee and picture-perfect croissants or pastries while the stirring strains of Saint-Saens grace the expensive sound system. This idyllic scene has been constructed and passed it off as the dream of the middle class. The perfect Sunday morning.
Well, never mind that. We don't roll that way in this house. Etienne sleeps in, sometimes two or three hours after I'm forced out of bed by the cruel kitty overlords demanding their morning feeding.
This morning, it was cold and bright. I shuffled into the kitchen in that Hollywood-sexy old, thick brown robe and my picture perfect winnie-the-pooh flannel pajamas, hair a-mess, and fed the monsters. After, I popped a couple of slices of bread in the toaster, filled the kettle, and fired up the laptop. It's anyone's guess when Etienne would joint the world, so it was just me, my green tea, my toast with peanut butter and strawberry jam, and the NPR podcast Pop Culture Happy Hour. Oh, and the cats.
Simple pleasures...
...Wish you were here.
Saturday, January 26, 2013
January 26/13
It was a quiet day at home today, which means naturally that I have time to go and fuck things up by getting all introspective. Today's fuck-up? I'm never going to get to experience the life I have always wanted. *sigh*
From the time I was a young girl with my own "office" (a child-sized table and chair set pushed into the half-closet in the laundry room) and an Oxford world atlas, I had the urge to explore the world. While my friends were on the path to taking up the conventional life of kids and careers, I was exploring the strange place names of the former Czechoslovakia and voraciously studying the capitals of the world, their populations and density, and where the rivers went...I was a 9-year old who wanted to get out of the Northwest Territories and be where all those far-off places were. But I wasn't born into the family that explored. At best, we drove out to the west coast in the summers.
It wasn't until I was 16 that I finally escaped the continent for a self-financed, short-lived adventure in London and Andalusia. But by this time I was deep into high school, and those around me had expectations for my future; without ever having openly said it, my dad was determined I would go to university or college, something I didn't find out until years later. Looking back, those ferocious arguments my mother and I would get into around report card time were sort of foretelling my doom. I wanted to go into drama and music, but this did not thrill my parents, who wanted me to get a job and have stability and security. I can't blame them. It's not the dream of most parents to have a starving actor-child. But then, it was never my dream to settle down, have kids, buy a house, or work at a desk.
In the end, school won out. Don't get me wrong, I'm very proud of what I have accomplished, and I even found out I'm pretty good at school (the unexpected nerd), but as the years have passed, I've given up opportunities to go out and explore the world, and now those opportunities have dwindled to almost nothing. I'm stuck in a job, in a city, in a mountain of debt, with no chance to get away from the responsibilities I bear.
It's no one's fault, really. It's just circumstances.
More of the world...
...Wish you were here.
From the time I was a young girl with my own "office" (a child-sized table and chair set pushed into the half-closet in the laundry room) and an Oxford world atlas, I had the urge to explore the world. While my friends were on the path to taking up the conventional life of kids and careers, I was exploring the strange place names of the former Czechoslovakia and voraciously studying the capitals of the world, their populations and density, and where the rivers went...I was a 9-year old who wanted to get out of the Northwest Territories and be where all those far-off places were. But I wasn't born into the family that explored. At best, we drove out to the west coast in the summers.
It wasn't until I was 16 that I finally escaped the continent for a self-financed, short-lived adventure in London and Andalusia. But by this time I was deep into high school, and those around me had expectations for my future; without ever having openly said it, my dad was determined I would go to university or college, something I didn't find out until years later. Looking back, those ferocious arguments my mother and I would get into around report card time were sort of foretelling my doom. I wanted to go into drama and music, but this did not thrill my parents, who wanted me to get a job and have stability and security. I can't blame them. It's not the dream of most parents to have a starving actor-child. But then, it was never my dream to settle down, have kids, buy a house, or work at a desk.
In the end, school won out. Don't get me wrong, I'm very proud of what I have accomplished, and I even found out I'm pretty good at school (the unexpected nerd), but as the years have passed, I've given up opportunities to go out and explore the world, and now those opportunities have dwindled to almost nothing. I'm stuck in a job, in a city, in a mountain of debt, with no chance to get away from the responsibilities I bear.
It's no one's fault, really. It's just circumstances.
More of the world...
...Wish you were here.
Friday, January 25, 2013
January 25/13
Is it because I'm a girl?
I've gotten used to being the only girl at a lot of after-work outings with the boys of EPD (the division Etienne works in). It's normal: I work upstairs from them, so it's easy for me to get included; several of the guys are single at any given time, so they don't call in girlfriends or spouses; and it's largely a shop of guys, with a network of guys. I follow sports and contribute to the discussions about soccer and hockey frequently, so it's no big deal for anyone who fears that I'm there, "girling" up the joint. My presence is a normal fact.
Tonight, the discussion turned into an argument about the nod for Ballon d'Or, or more specifically, Messi getting it again for 2012, over Cristiano Ronaldo, and to my surprise and dismay, I was pushed out of the conversation. One by one, the boys at the table listed off their top five ranked players of all time, and they left me out entirely. Hell, the ringleader of the argument, generally a nice guy, even took the points of a guy in the group who doesn't follow football at all or know much about the players, but not me. Not cool guys.
For the record, my list is:
Anyway. The point is I was excluded, and I think it may be because I'm a girl. So uncool.
My turn...
...Wish you were here.
I've gotten used to being the only girl at a lot of after-work outings with the boys of EPD (the division Etienne works in). It's normal: I work upstairs from them, so it's easy for me to get included; several of the guys are single at any given time, so they don't call in girlfriends or spouses; and it's largely a shop of guys, with a network of guys. I follow sports and contribute to the discussions about soccer and hockey frequently, so it's no big deal for anyone who fears that I'm there, "girling" up the joint. My presence is a normal fact.
Tonight, the discussion turned into an argument about the nod for Ballon d'Or, or more specifically, Messi getting it again for 2012, over Cristiano Ronaldo, and to my surprise and dismay, I was pushed out of the conversation. One by one, the boys at the table listed off their top five ranked players of all time, and they left me out entirely. Hell, the ringleader of the argument, generally a nice guy, even took the points of a guy in the group who doesn't follow football at all or know much about the players, but not me. Not cool guys.
For the record, my list is:
- Maradona
- Messi
- Pele
- Zidane
- Ronaldo (Brazilian Ronaldo, not that poncy little twit from Portugal)
Anyway. The point is I was excluded, and I think it may be because I'm a girl. So uncool.
My turn...
...Wish you were here.
Thursday, January 24, 2013
January 24/13
It's been a very cold week by Ottawa standards. Like 'windchills in the -30s' cold. I hate it. I moved south to get away from such awful weather. I grew up in the wake of Arctic weather, believe me, I know cold weather. But I digress, because this is not about the temperature outside.
This is about the temperature inside.
Why? Because when I came home this evening, the apartment was colder than usual. It's a building with central heating, but our radiators are pretty ineffective in the large apartment. I went to the bedroom to change out of my work clothes, and it was freezing in there. The bedroom is the coldest room in the apartment under normal circumstances (it helps in the summer heat and humidity), but this evening it seemed colder than normal. I was curious about how well the radiator in the bedroom even worked, so I reached down and touched it...ice cold.
I could have been fooled by the fact that the bedroom is normally colder than the rest of the apartment, and I have considered this week calling the caretaker to have a look at the bedroom radiator, but just in case, I decided to check the other radiators. All cold. Dammit. The boiler was clearly broken down. It's the second coldest day this winter, and we had no heat. Blurg.
It's not all bad news though. When we first viewed the apartment, we laughed when we saw two things: 1) the tacky, classic 80's propane fireplace in the living room, and 2) the bidet in the bathroom. Tonight, we didn't laugh about the fireplace. It came in very handy in keeping the living room liveable while we waited for an emergency repair to the boiler. We're luckier than others who have no heat on such cold days. But I maintain that I still get to laugh at the bidet. Who the hell has a bidet? Who even uses them anymore?
The end of winter...
...Wish you were here.
This is about the temperature inside.
Why? Because when I came home this evening, the apartment was colder than usual. It's a building with central heating, but our radiators are pretty ineffective in the large apartment. I went to the bedroom to change out of my work clothes, and it was freezing in there. The bedroom is the coldest room in the apartment under normal circumstances (it helps in the summer heat and humidity), but this evening it seemed colder than normal. I was curious about how well the radiator in the bedroom even worked, so I reached down and touched it...ice cold.
I could have been fooled by the fact that the bedroom is normally colder than the rest of the apartment, and I have considered this week calling the caretaker to have a look at the bedroom radiator, but just in case, I decided to check the other radiators. All cold. Dammit. The boiler was clearly broken down. It's the second coldest day this winter, and we had no heat. Blurg.
It's not all bad news though. When we first viewed the apartment, we laughed when we saw two things: 1) the tacky, classic 80's propane fireplace in the living room, and 2) the bidet in the bathroom. Tonight, we didn't laugh about the fireplace. It came in very handy in keeping the living room liveable while we waited for an emergency repair to the boiler. We're luckier than others who have no heat on such cold days. But I maintain that I still get to laugh at the bidet. Who the hell has a bidet? Who even uses them anymore?
The end of winter...
...Wish you were here.
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
January 23/13
Have you consented to being an organ and tissue donor yet? Have you had that conversation with your family or next of kin?
Today, I read the most heartbreaking headline coming out of Oregon: "Oregon Man Begs for Kidney Donor on the Street." A 28 year old man with a genetic disorder needs a kidney, which he can't get from family due to the genetic nature of his condition. His insurance will cover everything, including many expenses of the donor, but after more than a year on the waiting list, he's resorting to a roadside plea.
This shouldn't have to happen. As the article explains, it may be time to flip the switch. In both the US and Canada, the systems operate under an "Informed Consent" mandate, meaning that we have to opt IN as organ donors, and that our family or next of kin ultimately makes the decision, regardless of our wishes. In a growing number of places, the mandate is a "Presumed Consent" one, where everyone is considered as consenting to being an organ donor after they die, unless they specifically opt OUT. My own Master's project research bears out the conclusion that it may be time to make the switch. It's been done, it's been successful, and it's clear that the current system isn't working in meeting the needs of those who need a transplant.
If you're unsure, think of it this way...
A majority of people support organ donation. But many people don't take the time to go through the proper steps to register as organ and tissue donors, and many don't have the conversation regarding their wishes with their family or next of kin. People don't like thinking or talking about it, or they just never find the time to have the talk or register. It's one of those "I'll get to it when I can" tasks. The support is there, but it's not translating into action.
Until or unless the mandate switches to presumed consent, please folks, have the talk, sign the form or card or whatever the requirement is in your state, province or territory. Be a donor, save a life.
More willing donors...
...Wish you were here.
Today, I read the most heartbreaking headline coming out of Oregon: "Oregon Man Begs for Kidney Donor on the Street." A 28 year old man with a genetic disorder needs a kidney, which he can't get from family due to the genetic nature of his condition. His insurance will cover everything, including many expenses of the donor, but after more than a year on the waiting list, he's resorting to a roadside plea.
This shouldn't have to happen. As the article explains, it may be time to flip the switch. In both the US and Canada, the systems operate under an "Informed Consent" mandate, meaning that we have to opt IN as organ donors, and that our family or next of kin ultimately makes the decision, regardless of our wishes. In a growing number of places, the mandate is a "Presumed Consent" one, where everyone is considered as consenting to being an organ donor after they die, unless they specifically opt OUT. My own Master's project research bears out the conclusion that it may be time to make the switch. It's been done, it's been successful, and it's clear that the current system isn't working in meeting the needs of those who need a transplant.
If you're unsure, think of it this way...
A majority of people support organ donation. But many people don't take the time to go through the proper steps to register as organ and tissue donors, and many don't have the conversation regarding their wishes with their family or next of kin. People don't like thinking or talking about it, or they just never find the time to have the talk or register. It's one of those "I'll get to it when I can" tasks. The support is there, but it's not translating into action.
Until or unless the mandate switches to presumed consent, please folks, have the talk, sign the form or card or whatever the requirement is in your state, province or territory. Be a donor, save a life.
More willing donors...
...Wish you were here.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
January 22/13
Online dating. Hmm.
Let's call this post The Joys and Pains of Online Dating; or, "Phew! I'm so glad I'm not out there!"
Lately there has been much ado about online dating amongst those of my acquaintance, and their experiences vary greatly. My ex-husband lucked out and found his girlfriend in record time online. They have been happily shacked up for quite some time now.
On the other hand:
-I have a friend who has returned to the dating scene after a 20+ year absence. She went on Plenty of Fish, and has suffered from its overt tendency to be full of men looking for younger women. In her early 40's, she's being contacted by men in their upper 50's and even in their 60's. She's young and energetic, with two young kids, the last thing she needs is some old goober prowling just because he wants a young thing.
-Another friend is on OkCupid, and recently men have been sending her messages that are rude and insulting. Not her taking offense and seeing things as insulting...the purpose of these messages was definitely to insult. Why the hell would you be on a dating website and spend your time insulting people? How anti-social and/or stupid are you?
-A few days ago, a newly-single acquaintance pondered the online dating scene, but he was warned off by another friend who has had little success with online dating.
The thing is, I can't really relate to this string of experiences. My experience with online dating was quite brief, and...well, successful. I got several laughable late-night booty call messages, but when it came time to get down to business, I made a date, I had it, and it turned until a thing that worked until it didn't. Beyond the traditional online dating experience, I posted an ad online to the 'I Saw You' column of Vancouver's Georgia Straight about a random guy I saw one night, and damn if that didn't work out too, until I left Vancouver. I don't mean for this to come off as bragging, I mean it entirely as a reason why I can't relate to the experiences of my friends and acquaintances.
Whatever is going on, it makes me so glad that I'm not out there on the dating scene. Even better, it seems I should be overjoyed that I don't have to navigate the perils of online dating. I fear that if my experiences were more like my friends' experiences, I would be enbittered and sad about the state of humanity today (cause that's how I roll).
To all my friends out there right now...Respect.
Good luck...
...Wish you were here.
Let's call this post The Joys and Pains of Online Dating; or, "Phew! I'm so glad I'm not out there!"
Lately there has been much ado about online dating amongst those of my acquaintance, and their experiences vary greatly. My ex-husband lucked out and found his girlfriend in record time online. They have been happily shacked up for quite some time now.
On the other hand:
-I have a friend who has returned to the dating scene after a 20+ year absence. She went on Plenty of Fish, and has suffered from its overt tendency to be full of men looking for younger women. In her early 40's, she's being contacted by men in their upper 50's and even in their 60's. She's young and energetic, with two young kids, the last thing she needs is some old goober prowling just because he wants a young thing.
-Another friend is on OkCupid, and recently men have been sending her messages that are rude and insulting. Not her taking offense and seeing things as insulting...the purpose of these messages was definitely to insult. Why the hell would you be on a dating website and spend your time insulting people? How anti-social and/or stupid are you?
-A few days ago, a newly-single acquaintance pondered the online dating scene, but he was warned off by another friend who has had little success with online dating.
The thing is, I can't really relate to this string of experiences. My experience with online dating was quite brief, and...well, successful. I got several laughable late-night booty call messages, but when it came time to get down to business, I made a date, I had it, and it turned until a thing that worked until it didn't. Beyond the traditional online dating experience, I posted an ad online to the 'I Saw You' column of Vancouver's Georgia Straight about a random guy I saw one night, and damn if that didn't work out too, until I left Vancouver. I don't mean for this to come off as bragging, I mean it entirely as a reason why I can't relate to the experiences of my friends and acquaintances.
Whatever is going on, it makes me so glad that I'm not out there on the dating scene. Even better, it seems I should be overjoyed that I don't have to navigate the perils of online dating. I fear that if my experiences were more like my friends' experiences, I would be enbittered and sad about the state of humanity today (cause that's how I roll).
To all my friends out there right now...Respect.
Good luck...
...Wish you were here.
Monday, January 21, 2013
January 21/13
Can anyone tell me why I was so very, very, very tense while the Detroit-Columbus game was on?
It's only the second game of the very short season, but I have to admit after watching Detroit's disastrous season-opener in St. Louis, I couldn't help but worry for the Red Wings this season. I guess I was watching tonight's game to see what colour smoke would come out--if Detroit couldn't pull it together in game two, I knew it would be a very tight season.
Detroit played fairly well tonight actually, though not without some pretty big hiccups. Damien Brunner, the exciting young player that he is, well, his timing was all off. He was holding the puck when he should have been one-timing it, and vice versa. Carlo Colaiacovo took a hell of a hit and now is on the Injury reserve list with an injured shoulder. The D made some pretty wreckless decisions that led to a goal being scored against them. And for the life of me, the damn Red Wings could NOT stay out of the damn penalty box! The special teams played so much, I hardly saw Jordin Tootoo on the ice all night!
The game ended in a tie, and overtime didn't resolve the matter, so it was a shootout, and wouldn't you know it...my best shooter, my top guy, Todd Bertuzzi? Not in the game. Dammit!
The way I was tensed up, you'd have thought it was game 7 of the playoffs instead of the second game.
This does not bode well for my season.
Detroit wins...
...Wish you were here.
It's only the second game of the very short season, but I have to admit after watching Detroit's disastrous season-opener in St. Louis, I couldn't help but worry for the Red Wings this season. I guess I was watching tonight's game to see what colour smoke would come out--if Detroit couldn't pull it together in game two, I knew it would be a very tight season.
Detroit played fairly well tonight actually, though not without some pretty big hiccups. Damien Brunner, the exciting young player that he is, well, his timing was all off. He was holding the puck when he should have been one-timing it, and vice versa. Carlo Colaiacovo took a hell of a hit and now is on the Injury reserve list with an injured shoulder. The D made some pretty wreckless decisions that led to a goal being scored against them. And for the life of me, the damn Red Wings could NOT stay out of the damn penalty box! The special teams played so much, I hardly saw Jordin Tootoo on the ice all night!
The game ended in a tie, and overtime didn't resolve the matter, so it was a shootout, and wouldn't you know it...my best shooter, my top guy, Todd Bertuzzi? Not in the game. Dammit!
The way I was tensed up, you'd have thought it was game 7 of the playoffs instead of the second game.
This does not bode well for my season.
Detroit wins...
...Wish you were here.
Sunday, January 20, 2013
January 20/13
Do you like Dylan Moran? I do! He's biting and witty, and slightly mad, and that's all very good news.
Back in 2009 when I was in Ottawa for my FSWEP term, Etienne introduced me to this British series called Black Books. I don't want to give too much of the plot away, but it involves three mad people and a bookshop. The humour is loud, racous, bombastic, adult and lacking in pretension. He had the DVD box set, but foolishly loaned it to a friend about a year ago, and it languished in the friend's house(s) until last night, when Etienne was at the friend's place to watch hockey, and I reminded him to grab the DVDs while he was there. I've missed the series and several times have wanted to watch it.
A bitterly cold, lazy Sunday in January is the perfect time for curling up and watching the madness unfurl!
Black Books...
...Wish you were here.
Back in 2009 when I was in Ottawa for my FSWEP term, Etienne introduced me to this British series called Black Books. I don't want to give too much of the plot away, but it involves three mad people and a bookshop. The humour is loud, racous, bombastic, adult and lacking in pretension. He had the DVD box set, but foolishly loaned it to a friend about a year ago, and it languished in the friend's house(s) until last night, when Etienne was at the friend's place to watch hockey, and I reminded him to grab the DVDs while he was there. I've missed the series and several times have wanted to watch it.
A bitterly cold, lazy Sunday in January is the perfect time for curling up and watching the madness unfurl!
Black Books...
...Wish you were here.
Saturday, January 19, 2013
January 19/13
Okay, I've missed the NHL, and many others have too. I get it. But it seems like the return of the NHL has given everyone carte blanche to be loud morons in the street.
While I was out running errands, Etienne texted to say he was going to scamper off to his friend's house to watch the Canadiens game, so I was in for the evening alone. I flitted about, with hockey on both the TV and on Etienne's computer in the office (NHL Centre Ice lets me watch my Red Wings games), but it wasn't long after the Sens game was over my street turned into a walkway for screaming idiots, on their way to party on Elgin Street. I get it! I missed hockey too! I missed having some drinks and watching Hockey Night in Canada on Saturdays! But c'mon people, it's only a game!
Get a grip...
...Wish you were here.
While I was out running errands, Etienne texted to say he was going to scamper off to his friend's house to watch the Canadiens game, so I was in for the evening alone. I flitted about, with hockey on both the TV and on Etienne's computer in the office (NHL Centre Ice lets me watch my Red Wings games), but it wasn't long after the Sens game was over my street turned into a walkway for screaming idiots, on their way to party on Elgin Street. I get it! I missed hockey too! I missed having some drinks and watching Hockey Night in Canada on Saturdays! But c'mon people, it's only a game!
Get a grip...
...Wish you were here.
Friday, January 18, 2013
January 18/13
It's so okay not to be young!
Somebody very important had a birfday today. I can't say who. And it was a "milestone." But I can't say which one.
Okay, this will make writing this post difficult.
Time to switch to code.
So, there's this person named..."Eugene". And Eugene turned "30" today. After work, I met up with Eugene and we wandered for a bit before going for dinner down on Bank street. Since Eugene wasn't in the mood to make decisions, it was left to me to decide what to do next. We had options, like going to this once-a-month-party-danceclub thing, or going home, or doing something else. I decided we would head into the Market for some quiet drinks--after all, Eugene wasn't much in the mood to be shouting from the rooftops that he's "30."
We hit the Highland Pub, because Highlander and Birfdays go together around here. We sat, we talked, we laughed, we enjoyed some drinks...it was all quite pleasant. Then this group of five young men walked in and took tables nearby. Young. They couldn't be older than 20 or 21. Five of them, and not a looker in the bunch. They were ALL awkward and gangly. Furthermore their conversation was dull and uninspired.
I think at this point, Eugene had an epiphany. He looked at the lads, listened to them, and perhaps thought back to being their age, and I think he was okay with being "30." Even if only for a moment.
That moment when it's okay...
...Wish you were here.
Somebody very important had a birfday today. I can't say who. And it was a "milestone." But I can't say which one.
Okay, this will make writing this post difficult.
Time to switch to code.
So, there's this person named..."Eugene". And Eugene turned "30" today. After work, I met up with Eugene and we wandered for a bit before going for dinner down on Bank street. Since Eugene wasn't in the mood to make decisions, it was left to me to decide what to do next. We had options, like going to this once-a-month-party-danceclub thing, or going home, or doing something else. I decided we would head into the Market for some quiet drinks--after all, Eugene wasn't much in the mood to be shouting from the rooftops that he's "30."
We hit the Highland Pub, because Highlander and Birfdays go together around here. We sat, we talked, we laughed, we enjoyed some drinks...it was all quite pleasant. Then this group of five young men walked in and took tables nearby. Young. They couldn't be older than 20 or 21. Five of them, and not a looker in the bunch. They were ALL awkward and gangly. Furthermore their conversation was dull and uninspired.
I think at this point, Eugene had an epiphany. He looked at the lads, listened to them, and perhaps thought back to being their age, and I think he was okay with being "30." Even if only for a moment.
That moment when it's okay...
...Wish you were here.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
January 17/13
Holy meltdown batman!
This morning I went into a meeting at work which was supposed to be about two different files. I thought I was only there for the first file, as I had handed off the second file a couple of months ago to a colleague. We started with the first file and got through it quickly, and I thought I would exit before the discussion on the second file began, but it turns out that I had unofficially been drafted back into the world of the second file. I was ticked.
This file was bad enough the first time around, but this time, I’m dealing with some intense issues in my personal life that relate to the content of this file, and it’s far too sensitive and toxic for me to get involved with again. Upon hearing I was supposed to be involved, I warned those present that this was a threat to my mental health, and no matter how hard I tried not to, I broke down. In the end, it was decided I would serve in an advisory capacity, assisting on the periphery. The best possible compromise.
As an employee or a student, I’ve become a very solid, reliable performer, but there are very rare times when I cannot ignore a question of personal values and principles which I know will put me in conflict with a task. I haven’t felt this way since before I left my former department. This is not the first time I’ve challenged a task based on principle.
As a student in a gender studies class, I took on the professor over the tone and subject of an assignment that left me seeing red. It was a risk I had to take because this assignment was designed in a way where dissent was clearly the way to a failing grade. In the end, a resolution was reached and I was released from the assignment, with the entirely of its value transferred to my final exam.
Like I said, these situations are quite rare for me, but when they do happen, it’s with great difficulty that I navigate through my own personal minefield of principles and work ethic. We all face those situations where our morals, values, ethics or principles are challenged, and I guess character is defined by how we handle those situations. In my case, it’s the price I pay in pursuit of a career in a field adjacent to politics.
Easy answers...
...Wish you were here.
This morning I went into a meeting at work which was supposed to be about two different files. I thought I was only there for the first file, as I had handed off the second file a couple of months ago to a colleague. We started with the first file and got through it quickly, and I thought I would exit before the discussion on the second file began, but it turns out that I had unofficially been drafted back into the world of the second file. I was ticked.
This file was bad enough the first time around, but this time, I’m dealing with some intense issues in my personal life that relate to the content of this file, and it’s far too sensitive and toxic for me to get involved with again. Upon hearing I was supposed to be involved, I warned those present that this was a threat to my mental health, and no matter how hard I tried not to, I broke down. In the end, it was decided I would serve in an advisory capacity, assisting on the periphery. The best possible compromise.
As an employee or a student, I’ve become a very solid, reliable performer, but there are very rare times when I cannot ignore a question of personal values and principles which I know will put me in conflict with a task. I haven’t felt this way since before I left my former department. This is not the first time I’ve challenged a task based on principle.
As a student in a gender studies class, I took on the professor over the tone and subject of an assignment that left me seeing red. It was a risk I had to take because this assignment was designed in a way where dissent was clearly the way to a failing grade. In the end, a resolution was reached and I was released from the assignment, with the entirely of its value transferred to my final exam.
Like I said, these situations are quite rare for me, but when they do happen, it’s with great difficulty that I navigate through my own personal minefield of principles and work ethic. We all face those situations where our morals, values, ethics or principles are challenged, and I guess character is defined by how we handle those situations. In my case, it’s the price I pay in pursuit of a career in a field adjacent to politics.
Easy answers...
...Wish you were here.
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
January 16/13
Today, the government of Quebec vowed to move ahead with legislation that would allow doctors to medically-assist certain patients who wish to die with dignity, and it gives me hope that sane governing it still possible in this place and time.
As the Right-to-die case makes its way through the legal system, carrying on without its most famous face, Gloria Taylor, it's really encouraging that the Quebec government spent two years studying the issue and hosting public meetings to hear what the public and experts had to say, and has pledged to act. Why is it encouraging? Well, ultimately, it's because this is what democracy is supposed to be. Those elected to represent a constituency consult with their constituents, and based on this, develops policy for the public good. Thus far, elected representatives in Canada have been extremely reluctant to act on this issue, despite support for the right to dignified death sitting anywhere between 65-75%, depending on which poll you review.
This is a difficult issue, and it takes real conviction and understanding to support the right to a dignified death. It takes patience to deal with the many fallacies that surround the issue. But most of all, it takes great political will to set aside whatever personal beliefs you may have against the right to a dignified death, and act not as your party would have you do, but as the very people you represent would have you do. So, Bravo Quebec!
More political courage...
...Wish you were here.
As the Right-to-die case makes its way through the legal system, carrying on without its most famous face, Gloria Taylor, it's really encouraging that the Quebec government spent two years studying the issue and hosting public meetings to hear what the public and experts had to say, and has pledged to act. Why is it encouraging? Well, ultimately, it's because this is what democracy is supposed to be. Those elected to represent a constituency consult with their constituents, and based on this, develops policy for the public good. Thus far, elected representatives in Canada have been extremely reluctant to act on this issue, despite support for the right to dignified death sitting anywhere between 65-75%, depending on which poll you review.
This is a difficult issue, and it takes real conviction and understanding to support the right to a dignified death. It takes patience to deal with the many fallacies that surround the issue. But most of all, it takes great political will to set aside whatever personal beliefs you may have against the right to a dignified death, and act not as your party would have you do, but as the very people you represent would have you do. So, Bravo Quebec!
More political courage...
...Wish you were here.
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
January 15/13
I really hate cold weather. Before you start to comment about my dislike complete abhorrence of cold weather even though I grew up in the far north, realize that we weren't exactly out and about, scampering like darling little woodland creatures; when it's -45 degrees Celsius, we stayed inside and jacked up the heat!
Granted it's not that cold in Ottawa, but all the same, it's put me off cold weather for life. Cold makes me miserable. And it shows. During the winter months, I am totally guilty of trading fashion for warmth, and dressing warm with my current wardrobe means that I tend to look pretty ratty and plain. I know this, but this year, I just don't care that much. I put in the bare minimum required for a professional look at work (i.e. not old jeans and sweaters), but I have few practical options for winter footwear, and they don't lend themselves to looking fashionable. Ugh, so many reasons to be a slob!
It's relatively warm these days, so today when I made an effort to look nice, people commented. I didn't think the problem was that noticeable, but apparently people did notice. This should be a kick in the ass to try harder, but the $50,000 question is, will it work? I dunno.
A little more effort...
...Wish you were here.
Granted it's not that cold in Ottawa, but all the same, it's put me off cold weather for life. Cold makes me miserable. And it shows. During the winter months, I am totally guilty of trading fashion for warmth, and dressing warm with my current wardrobe means that I tend to look pretty ratty and plain. I know this, but this year, I just don't care that much. I put in the bare minimum required for a professional look at work (i.e. not old jeans and sweaters), but I have few practical options for winter footwear, and they don't lend themselves to looking fashionable. Ugh, so many reasons to be a slob!
It's relatively warm these days, so today when I made an effort to look nice, people commented. I didn't think the problem was that noticeable, but apparently people did notice. This should be a kick in the ass to try harder, but the $50,000 question is, will it work? I dunno.
A little more effort...
...Wish you were here.
Monday, January 14, 2013
January 14/13
Probably the best part of my day today was a pleading lecture about a sensitive issue for my workplace right now...and damn that I can't get into specifics, but I can say this: I work at Human Resources Skills Development Canada, and no, I don't work in the area that just announced it lost the protected information (but not banking information) of more than 583,000 clients of the Canada Student Loan Program. This, after another area (again, not mine) lost the protected information of clients of the Employment Insurance Program. Yay.
And can I just say that I am a client of the student loan program, so I look forward to getting a letter in the mail telling me that my own department has done goofed with my information. This is hardly the stuff that inspires confidence. I wish I could say more, but I can't.
What I can say is that during this pleading lecture, I'll admit to some smugness, as I sat back knowing that my IT and info management training at a previous federal department (one notorious for many bad habits, though loss of information is not one of them) had instilled in me a solid work ethic on the handling of secure and sensitive information, and I have genuinely good habits about the matter, or as good as they can be given the resources I have available.
This whole SNAFU just really disappoints me; as a Canadian whose information was lost, I'm really choked. This potentially means a lot of inconvenience in my life. As a member of the department, I'm worried that it will reflect on me somehow. It just plain sucks.
Accountability...
...Wish you were here.
And can I just say that I am a client of the student loan program, so I look forward to getting a letter in the mail telling me that my own department has done goofed with my information. This is hardly the stuff that inspires confidence. I wish I could say more, but I can't.
What I can say is that during this pleading lecture, I'll admit to some smugness, as I sat back knowing that my IT and info management training at a previous federal department (one notorious for many bad habits, though loss of information is not one of them) had instilled in me a solid work ethic on the handling of secure and sensitive information, and I have genuinely good habits about the matter, or as good as they can be given the resources I have available.
This whole SNAFU just really disappoints me; as a Canadian whose information was lost, I'm really choked. This potentially means a lot of inconvenience in my life. As a member of the department, I'm worried that it will reflect on me somehow. It just plain sucks.
Accountability...
...Wish you were here.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
January 13/13
Gawd, I have even less to report today than I did yesterday! Activity-wise, this is the least active weekend I've had in a while.
There was plenty of life going on outside of my apartment today, as evidenced by the careful, detailed appearances of so many in Hollywood who showed up to drink conveniently-placed bottles of Moet and applaud themselves and/or their peers for cinematic exploits. Or, in at least one case, to death stare the fuck out of the winner after losing.
I had to double-check on the internet to see if anyone else thought that the look Taylor Swift threw at Adele for winning Best Original Song was a look, and not in fact an invisible psychic throwing star aimed at Adele's head. I am assured that yes, many others caught a little diva-on-diva death stare action too.
More amusements required...
...Wish you were here.
There was plenty of life going on outside of my apartment today, as evidenced by the careful, detailed appearances of so many in Hollywood who showed up to drink conveniently-placed bottles of Moet and applaud themselves and/or their peers for cinematic exploits. Or, in at least one case, to death stare the fuck out of the winner after losing.
I had to double-check on the internet to see if anyone else thought that the look Taylor Swift threw at Adele for winning Best Original Song was a look, and not in fact an invisible psychic throwing star aimed at Adele's head. I am assured that yes, many others caught a little diva-on-diva death stare action too.
More amusements required...
...Wish you were here.
January 12/13
If there was a theme to this day, it was "Do as little as possible" day. I'd say I performed admirably; too admirably in fact, for I've left myself with nothing g-rated worth sharing. I didn't mean to humblebrag there, but the fact is that outside of some good ol' fashioned "Living In Sin", my day was spent staring at screens, happily enjoying the void created by the TV and computer.
Better weather so I can play outside...
...Wish you were here.
Better weather so I can play outside...
...Wish you were here.
January 11/13
My heart hurts so much today.
I had to stay home and take a mental health day today because this week has been so hard for me to manage, emotionally. The meeting between Harper and First Nations started to go completely wonky before we had a chance to catch our breath over agreement to the meeting. Emotions are running extremely high, and competing agendas are causing real rifts among the chiefs; many have forgotten it was the people, the grassroots of Idle No More that gave them this opportunity.
The people. They are tired of what they see and hear and experience, and quite often, tired of what they feel. They come from communities great and small, prosperous and poor. Some have done well, others have fared poorly. But they unite because they want to see things improve for everyone, and they differ from other Canadians because the circumstances of their lives are dictated by both a feeble legal act and by the whims of whatever federal government is in office. So many have also been let down by their chief and council. There is no denying that a few bad apples exist, but they are not the full lot. And yet ignorant, demagoguing talking heads would have Canadians believe that we are all rotten to some degree. The people. They may be sick and tired of all of this, but they are clearly showing they will be Idle No More.
So much needs to change...
...Wish you were here.
I had to stay home and take a mental health day today because this week has been so hard for me to manage, emotionally. The meeting between Harper and First Nations started to go completely wonky before we had a chance to catch our breath over agreement to the meeting. Emotions are running extremely high, and competing agendas are causing real rifts among the chiefs; many have forgotten it was the people, the grassroots of Idle No More that gave them this opportunity.
The people. They are tired of what they see and hear and experience, and quite often, tired of what they feel. They come from communities great and small, prosperous and poor. Some have done well, others have fared poorly. But they unite because they want to see things improve for everyone, and they differ from other Canadians because the circumstances of their lives are dictated by both a feeble legal act and by the whims of whatever federal government is in office. So many have also been let down by their chief and council. There is no denying that a few bad apples exist, but they are not the full lot. And yet ignorant, demagoguing talking heads would have Canadians believe that we are all rotten to some degree. The people. They may be sick and tired of all of this, but they are clearly showing they will be Idle No More.
So much needs to change...
...Wish you were here.
January 10/13
Let's call this one "Naming and Shaming."
I have a serious bone to pick with the Northwest Territories. Leading the nation in Impaired Driving? Are you fucking serious?
You know, I've seen it before...people have a few drinks...not a lot, but a few, and then they think "oh I'm fine to make it home, I'll be alright." They forget that they aren't the only ones out and about. Fuck! This isn't about I, this is about I+Everyone out there. If I'm impaired and driving, and I hit a pedestrian, sure I'm in a car, so chances are I'll be alright, but will the pedestrian? Oh, his or her or their chances are significantly lower.
It's one thing if you lived in a bubble and you would be the only person impacted by a collision (these aren't accidents, folks), but why take that fucking chance? Why think it's okay to put your own poor decision making skills above the potential safety and welfare of everyone else who has to share the road with your impaired ass?
People in my life think I'm a real snot for refusing to get into a car with a driver who has been drinking or getting high, but I, and every kid at Sir John and St Pat's, would do well to remember that impaired driving took Andrew and Davey from our lives and from the lives of their families. When I refuse even just one glass of wine because I'm driving, it's because I'm not the only one who has to get home safe and sound that day.
I won't apologize for my beliefs. This topic makes me so angry because more people in my world than just Andrew and Davey have died from impaired driving, and the one common thread has been they were all from the NWT.
You should be here...
...Wish you were here.
I have a serious bone to pick with the Northwest Territories. Leading the nation in Impaired Driving? Are you fucking serious?
You know, I've seen it before...people have a few drinks...not a lot, but a few, and then they think "oh I'm fine to make it home, I'll be alright." They forget that they aren't the only ones out and about. Fuck! This isn't about I, this is about I+Everyone out there. If I'm impaired and driving, and I hit a pedestrian, sure I'm in a car, so chances are I'll be alright, but will the pedestrian? Oh, his or her or their chances are significantly lower.
It's one thing if you lived in a bubble and you would be the only person impacted by a collision (these aren't accidents, folks), but why take that fucking chance? Why think it's okay to put your own poor decision making skills above the potential safety and welfare of everyone else who has to share the road with your impaired ass?
People in my life think I'm a real snot for refusing to get into a car with a driver who has been drinking or getting high, but I, and every kid at Sir John and St Pat's, would do well to remember that impaired driving took Andrew and Davey from our lives and from the lives of their families. When I refuse even just one glass of wine because I'm driving, it's because I'm not the only one who has to get home safe and sound that day.
I won't apologize for my beliefs. This topic makes me so angry because more people in my world than just Andrew and Davey have died from impaired driving, and the one common thread has been they were all from the NWT.
You should be here...
...Wish you were here.
January 9/13
If you live in Canada, you would have to be void of any senses or in a coma to not know of the movement Idle No More. But knowing of it is not the same as knowing what it is actually about; I'm afraid there are a lot of ignorant things being said about First Nations in Canada, and what's worse is that the ignorance comes from both sides of the issue. It's so harmful, and it reveals shameful intolerances.
I'm stuck in the middle of it. My ancestors were both settlers and indigenous peoples. My mother is a white woman, my father is an Aboriginal man. The discourse...
No. This is not a discourse. There are certainly very smart, well-considered conversations going on about Aboriginal treatment in Canada, but there is also diatribe and outright racism on both sides. So much misunderstanding, willful ignorance, and misinformation has caught the media's attention and they are running with it, conflating issues without connection to Idle No More with the movement itself.
All of this is straining my mental well-being by aggravating my depression. But I can't ignore it because I have a big stake in the actions and outcomes of Idle No More. Not just as a Status Indian, but as a Canadian.
Today, I'm forced to live with disrespect for no good reason.
A cure for Ignorance...
...Wish you were here.
I'm stuck in the middle of it. My ancestors were both settlers and indigenous peoples. My mother is a white woman, my father is an Aboriginal man. The discourse...
No. This is not a discourse. There are certainly very smart, well-considered conversations going on about Aboriginal treatment in Canada, but there is also diatribe and outright racism on both sides. So much misunderstanding, willful ignorance, and misinformation has caught the media's attention and they are running with it, conflating issues without connection to Idle No More with the movement itself.
All of this is straining my mental well-being by aggravating my depression. But I can't ignore it because I have a big stake in the actions and outcomes of Idle No More. Not just as a Status Indian, but as a Canadian.
Today, I'm forced to live with disrespect for no good reason.
A cure for Ignorance...
...Wish you were here.
January 8/13
I made the application to Ryerson University on December 28th, and even though I knew the school was closed, I figured it wouldn't take long to get the confirmation/follow-up email that tells me how to submit my supporting documents (transcripts, writing samples, etc.). I was wrong. I didn't get that email until yesterday. The application package is due January 13th.
The Ryerson application process is NOT user friendly. They don't have a system of their own like some of the larger schools, instead choosing to be serviced by a second level service provider (in this case, the Ontario Universities' Application Centre), and that application had a few flaws, like not giving me an opportunity to skip English Proficiency test scores--I'm a native English speaker, I don't need to take TOEFL or any of those types of tests, but according to their administrative system, I have to provide this?
But Ryerson does some awesome things, like allowing me to submit electronic copies of my transcripts (if I'm accepted, I then have to submit the two traditional paper copies), and I send all my supporting documents electronically in a single .zip file. This is the lucky break I needed, given the very close time frame.
My referees all got the reference form last week (before I got the confirmation email), so I don't have to worry about that, which meant today was all about finishing my statement of interest, gathering my electronic documents, and sending them off.
It's funny though. Every time I apply to schools, I get a belly full of butterflies as I submit my application; this time was no different. I hit 'send' and got that familiar queer little pitch in my stomach. It's the idea that total strangers who know nothing of me beyond these pages are now going to judge me. There are no interviews like the ones you see in movies and TV shows--no opportunities to screw up, but make a winning, impassioned plea that sways a dean or committee. It's just me as defined by a collection of papers. And on paper, I'm a less than impressive candidate. I've had several false starts at my undergrad, but once I got serious, I was a great student. I'm a solid investment, if given a chance, and I've had several professors and employers who would tell you I wasn't the preferred candidate, but once they took me, I was a strong performer.
A cure for nerves...
...Wish you were here.
The Ryerson application process is NOT user friendly. They don't have a system of their own like some of the larger schools, instead choosing to be serviced by a second level service provider (in this case, the Ontario Universities' Application Centre), and that application had a few flaws, like not giving me an opportunity to skip English Proficiency test scores--I'm a native English speaker, I don't need to take TOEFL or any of those types of tests, but according to their administrative system, I have to provide this?
But Ryerson does some awesome things, like allowing me to submit electronic copies of my transcripts (if I'm accepted, I then have to submit the two traditional paper copies), and I send all my supporting documents electronically in a single .zip file. This is the lucky break I needed, given the very close time frame.
My referees all got the reference form last week (before I got the confirmation email), so I don't have to worry about that, which meant today was all about finishing my statement of interest, gathering my electronic documents, and sending them off.
It's funny though. Every time I apply to schools, I get a belly full of butterflies as I submit my application; this time was no different. I hit 'send' and got that familiar queer little pitch in my stomach. It's the idea that total strangers who know nothing of me beyond these pages are now going to judge me. There are no interviews like the ones you see in movies and TV shows--no opportunities to screw up, but make a winning, impassioned plea that sways a dean or committee. It's just me as defined by a collection of papers. And on paper, I'm a less than impressive candidate. I've had several false starts at my undergrad, but once I got serious, I was a great student. I'm a solid investment, if given a chance, and I've had several professors and employers who would tell you I wasn't the preferred candidate, but once they took me, I was a strong performer.
A cure for nerves...
...Wish you were here.
January 7/13
Today was the first day back to the first full week of work after the holidays, and when I checked my work email this morning, I was shocked to see I had been sent all of three emails in my absence. 10 days, and only three emails (one was even a mass corporate email!)? I've been gone for three house in an afternoon and come back to 10 emails. If anything, my recent decision regarding my career was reaffirmed.
But you don't want to hear about my sad Monday back-to-work blues.
So instead, how about my shock to find that the beloved animated film Fern Gully: The Last Rainforest is available on DVD for a mere $5. It gave me a sad. Sure, I need it in my collection, but it was an awful moment of being confronted by our throwaway consumer culture, and the irony was not lost on me that a movie about saving the environment and reducing our footprint on the planet was consigned to the mass produced bargain bin.
A simpler life...
...Wish you were here.
But you don't want to hear about my sad Monday back-to-work blues.
So instead, how about my shock to find that the beloved animated film Fern Gully: The Last Rainforest is available on DVD for a mere $5. It gave me a sad. Sure, I need it in my collection, but it was an awful moment of being confronted by our throwaway consumer culture, and the irony was not lost on me that a movie about saving the environment and reducing our footprint on the planet was consigned to the mass produced bargain bin.
A simpler life...
...Wish you were here.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
January 6/13
In the wee small hours of the morning, the NHL and the NHLPA reached an agreement in principle; with that, professional hockey in North America is back.
I rolled over at about 8:30 this morning and reached for my phone. When I got to the Twitter part of my routine, there it was...still so early that most of Canada was still asleep, and thus unaware that their hockey heroes would soon take to the ice, though the glamour and prestige of the league is arguably tarnished. I looked over at Etienne, still asleep, and I debated waking him up to tell him, but I decided against it. He's got a variety of sports reporting apps on his phone and the list of Twitter accounts he follows is by and large sports figures, so I decided it was best to let him find out from them when he woke up.
In the meantime, I had time to think about the return of hockey. Honestly, aside from missing my Detroit Red Wings, I had grown quite indifferent to hockey's absence. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Etienne kept hockey alive in our house, watching a variety of junior leagues, plus the world junior hockey championships, PLUS the Spengler Cup, but there was little notice that the NHL wasn't there. Indeed, for the third time in my life, the absence of the NHL did not end the world.
Welcome back NHL.
Indifference...
...Wish you were here.
I rolled over at about 8:30 this morning and reached for my phone. When I got to the Twitter part of my routine, there it was...still so early that most of Canada was still asleep, and thus unaware that their hockey heroes would soon take to the ice, though the glamour and prestige of the league is arguably tarnished. I looked over at Etienne, still asleep, and I debated waking him up to tell him, but I decided against it. He's got a variety of sports reporting apps on his phone and the list of Twitter accounts he follows is by and large sports figures, so I decided it was best to let him find out from them when he woke up.
In the meantime, I had time to think about the return of hockey. Honestly, aside from missing my Detroit Red Wings, I had grown quite indifferent to hockey's absence. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that Etienne kept hockey alive in our house, watching a variety of junior leagues, plus the world junior hockey championships, PLUS the Spengler Cup, but there was little notice that the NHL wasn't there. Indeed, for the third time in my life, the absence of the NHL did not end the world.
Welcome back NHL.
Indifference...
...Wish you were here.
Saturday, January 5, 2013
January 5/13
This morning, Gail was out early to meet her clients, and I headed out to pick up my car share car to go get cat food. Such a chilly morning! It was bright and sunny, and the large snow banks, augmented with frequent street plowing, gleamed in the light of day. As it was relatively early (nearly 10 am--trust me, that's early in our house on a Saturday), there were few people out, and who can blame them.
As I trudged through a quad behind city hall, I came across about 12 wood picnic table/benches, all completely covered with more than a foot of perfect, undisturbed snow, save one. One table had visitors, though not recently, as there were signs that two people sat on the table top, but there was a fresh layer of snow. It was one of those moments when I wanted to take a picture, however I wasn't in any rush to stop and take my mitts off so I could snap the scene with my iPhone, so I carried on with my trudging. It seemed so wrong to be trudging on a sunny day, but the snow was quite powdery, so it made for a slower, sloppier gate than normal.
So a photogenic moment wasted by the chill of the day.
A photographer...
...Wish you were here.
As I trudged through a quad behind city hall, I came across about 12 wood picnic table/benches, all completely covered with more than a foot of perfect, undisturbed snow, save one. One table had visitors, though not recently, as there were signs that two people sat on the table top, but there was a fresh layer of snow. It was one of those moments when I wanted to take a picture, however I wasn't in any rush to stop and take my mitts off so I could snap the scene with my iPhone, so I carried on with my trudging. It seemed so wrong to be trudging on a sunny day, but the snow was quite powdery, so it made for a slower, sloppier gate than normal.
So a photogenic moment wasted by the chill of the day.
A photographer...
...Wish you were here.
Friday, January 4, 2013
January 4/13
Living in Ottawa can be a bit like vanishing into a black hole, where you are never to be seen or heard from again. But only a bit. People rarely come here to visit.
When I lived in Edmonton, visits were frequent because it's the major urban centre that serves many of the residents of the Northwest Territories. It was a rare time when I went to West Edmonton Mall and did not run into someone I knew. When I lived in Burnaby, people came to visit because, well, it's Vancouver, people just love coming to Vancouver. In Ottawa, there have been only a few brave souls who have come by for a visit. Anastasia has made a few trips for business, and Olaf and Rick have been up from the centre of the universe for study and play, and Gail (yes, the Gail) of Gail at Large fame has been down (also from the centre of the universe) for personal and professional shoots, but that's about the extent of my visitor. Well, as it happens, we are hosting Gail this weekend! She's in town for an engagement shoot, arriving soon, and we're looking forward to it. Etienne may grumble because he can't spend his weekend in his jammies on the couch, but in reality, it's great to have her because it is a welcome distraction from the long, torturous winter.
Come for a visit!
...Wish you were here.
When I lived in Edmonton, visits were frequent because it's the major urban centre that serves many of the residents of the Northwest Territories. It was a rare time when I went to West Edmonton Mall and did not run into someone I knew. When I lived in Burnaby, people came to visit because, well, it's Vancouver, people just love coming to Vancouver. In Ottawa, there have been only a few brave souls who have come by for a visit. Anastasia has made a few trips for business, and Olaf and Rick have been up from the centre of the universe for study and play, and Gail (yes, the Gail) of Gail at Large fame has been down (also from the centre of the universe) for personal and professional shoots, but that's about the extent of my visitor. Well, as it happens, we are hosting Gail this weekend! She's in town for an engagement shoot, arriving soon, and we're looking forward to it. Etienne may grumble because he can't spend his weekend in his jammies on the couch, but in reality, it's great to have her because it is a welcome distraction from the long, torturous winter.
Come for a visit!
...Wish you were here.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
January 3/13
According to Wikipedia (naturally the highest quality source available in two seconds), Weltschmerz is presented as such:
Don't worry, dear readers...this too shall come to pass, no doubt far sooner than it should.
Real solutions...
...Wish you were here.
"Weltschmerz (from the German, meaning world-pain or world-weariness, pronounced [ˈvɛltʃmɛɐ̯ts]) is a term coined by the German author Jean Paul and denotes the kind of feeling experienced by someone who understands that physical reality can never satisfy the demands of the mind. This kind of world view was widespread among several romantic authors such as Lord Byron, Giacomo Leopardi, François-René de Chateaubriand, Alfred de Musset, Nikolaus Lenau, Hermann Hesse, and Heinrich Heine. It is also used to denote the feeling of sadness when thinking about the evils of the world.Folks, despite having much to preoccupy me at work, today was a weltschmerz-ridden day. Whether it was the shooting in Switzerland, the vitriolic and harsh words flung at Aboriginals regarding Idle No More online, the Best of the Left podcast about the Newtown shooting, or the odd work situation I find myself in, there was little I could do to fight the feeling of depression and alienation from my fellow humans, as well as the feeling of impotence about how little I could do to affect a change for the better.
The modern meaning of Weltschmerz in the German language is the psychological pain caused by sadness that can occur when realizing that someone's own weaknesses are caused by the inappropriateness and cruelty of the world and (physical and social) circumstances. Weltschmerz in this meaning can cause depression, resignation and escapism, and can become a mental problem (compare to Hikikomori). The modern meaning should also be compared with the concept of anomie, or a kind of alienation, that Émile Durkheim wrote about in his sociological treatise Suicide."
Don't worry, dear readers...this too shall come to pass, no doubt far sooner than it should.
Real solutions...
...Wish you were here.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
January 2/13
"You ask yourself a lot of questions after watching that movie---mostly WHY?" -Etienne
There are a lot of movies that this could apply to, but tonight, this applies to The Change-Up starring Ryan Reynolds (hot) (I love you Etienne) and Jason Bateman. What a freak show of a movie.
And the part that I found the weirdest was a man running into a ballroom full of people, kissing another man's wife, and asking that man if he's ready to take a piss. When I proclaimed this to be too weird, Etienne laughed at me and asked, after everything proceeding that moment, if I was serious. Yes. Yes, I was.
You just had to be there...
...Wish you were here.
There are a lot of movies that this could apply to, but tonight, this applies to The Change-Up starring Ryan Reynolds (hot) (I love you Etienne) and Jason Bateman. What a freak show of a movie.
And the part that I found the weirdest was a man running into a ballroom full of people, kissing another man's wife, and asking that man if he's ready to take a piss. When I proclaimed this to be too weird, Etienne laughed at me and asked, after everything proceeding that moment, if I was serious. Yes. Yes, I was.
You just had to be there...
...Wish you were here.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
January 1/13
Welcome to 2013!
First of all, raise your hand if you are hungover today...
Anyone?
Not me! Last New Year's Eve, I was completely hammered because everyone brought champagne/sparkling wine/prosecco/champagne-like substance to the party, and wow, if you drink that all night, you will not remember all night. I know I went to a party at the Ottawa Youth Hostel after midnight, but I don't remember much about that experience. This New Year's Eve, I had a couple of beers as the evening progressed, I ate a good carb and protein supper, and I got an unexpected workout that helped me metabolize the liquor quicker. So today I will gleefully lord my non-hangover status over those of you spending your day in close proximity to a toilet, curled up in a ball wishing for a swift death, or suffering a world-class headache. Suckas!!
But I digress...
Have a Happy New Year, all!
...Wish you were here
First of all, raise your hand if you are hungover today...
Anyone?
Not me! Last New Year's Eve, I was completely hammered because everyone brought champagne/sparkling wine/prosecco/champagne-like substance to the party, and wow, if you drink that all night, you will not remember all night. I know I went to a party at the Ottawa Youth Hostel after midnight, but I don't remember much about that experience. This New Year's Eve, I had a couple of beers as the evening progressed, I ate a good carb and protein supper, and I got an unexpected workout that helped me metabolize the liquor quicker. So today I will gleefully lord my non-hangover status over those of you spending your day in close proximity to a toilet, curled up in a ball wishing for a swift death, or suffering a world-class headache. Suckas!!
But I digress...
Have a Happy New Year, all!
...Wish you were here
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