To Derek

This is my blog, Derek. And this is my blog entry that is dedicated to you so that your first impression of my blog wasn't a list of books that the university is making me read. After the story about the birthday party at the yarn event, I figured I'd better put forth a little extra effort. Also, this is a picture of waffles. They are good wholesome fun. The kind of fun that I like best.

So, Derek, here you are. And I rushed home just so that I could write you this cute little message. Seriously, I didn't rush that much, mostly because I missed my bus...then there was some walking and some grumbling, then some getting on the wrong bus...story of my life actually--ask anyone.

I figure the nicest thing I can do for you at this point is to get you reading in the right direction. You need to start at the beginning, November of 2004 and read a couple of the early, super bitter rants that got me started in the blog business. Just dabble a little. If a title sounds interesting, give it a shot. But I will warn you now, at least half the time the title is incredibly misleading. If you want to know more about my quasi-religion, and my following, there are pictures posted of my new converts (some which I already showed you) and the rules are archived somewhere...try September or October 2005.

Now, from time to time you may read something or a see a picture that seems slightly out of character for me. I'd just like to remind you that I am actually the perfect little angel that I make myself out to be, and you should never, for any reason, doubt my honesty when I tell you that I do not get into any trouble. Testimonials to come. The world loves me...they just have a weird way of showing it. And Derek, you should convert now too.

To the rest of you Weinists and Weiners, tell Derek how great I am in the comments and maybe he will be persuaded to invite you to his flame-shirt party. I'm going to wear a tutu and my purple crown.

PS Happy Birthday to Jean. Jean it's your birthday. You thought that this blog would be all about someone who is not you, but you were wrong. Jean, you are old today. And I love you Jean. [Note to self: I do not love Eugene. (Note to self: start writing more notes to self.)] Stop the madness. Convert.

What I'm Reading: Back to School Edition

Alternatively titled: "For Better, or Quite Possibly Worse" because the things I have to read for school, and the things I want to read despite school are rarely very well aligned.

If the Christmas edition of "What I'm Reading" didn't satisfy your thirst, here is a look at my slightly more scholarly endeavours of late (and those yet to come):

1. The Autobiography of Alice B. Toklas by Gertrude Stein. American Lit. No, you read it right. All in all not a bad read, if you can handle the tone--super conversational.
2. Boswell's London Journal by James Boswell, Ed. Pottle. Restoration Lit. If you like to read about 18th-century sexually transmitted diseases, this might be the book for you. I am considering writing an essay on Boswell's Scottishness...I was supposed to finish the book for last term though and haven't cracked the spine even as we speak. Maybe I will stick to Gulliver's Englishness...it's slightly less disgusting.
3. The History of Rasselas, Prince of Abissinia by Samuel Johnson. Also for Restoration Lit. I don't have any clue what it's about, but I have to do a 60 minute presentation on it in March. So I put it on my list to remind myself.
4. "Dress Suits for Hire" by Holly Hughes as printed in Clit Notes. Modern Drama. There's a stirring moment in this play that actually makes the sacrament of Christ sexually explicit in ways I never thought I would live to see. For a more dramatic rendition, come to my presentation Tuesday afternoon. Oh ya, I'm pretending to be a lesbian for like 10 minutes. I bet the unbelievability caused by my wretched acting will be deemed my fear of successfully performing in an identity I don't wish to sympathise with. I bet.
5. Cat on a Hot Tin Roof by Tennessee Williams. Modern Drama. I actually read it for last week's class but still feel it deserves a bit of a recommendation. For anyone feeling sexually frustrated or ostracized...you'll really identify with the central metaphor. Seriously, that's what I've been told.
6. Poems by Ezra Pound. American Lit. So, Pound was a fascist and my professor has actually spent the better part of his academic career trying to figure him out. Maybe you can solve the enigma for me and I'll use it as my fourth year thesis.
7. The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemmingway. Impotence is a fascinating subject for fiction, don't you think?
8. Chapter Ten of Child Development...I think it's more on cognitive development...maybe even information processing theory. In case you thought I was too literarily-minded.
9. "Reading as Goal-Oriented Behaviour" by D.G. Bouwhuis. DTP. Worst twenty minutes of my life spent reading. Maybe not, but holding some serious clout in the very most boringest category.
10. George and Rue by George Elliott Clarke. Because I really want to read it! This was my new book of the month and Shane's "ya ya I'm sorry I left you worrying about whether I was dead or alive for hours at a time" present to me on Saturday. I am so excited to read it I can barely breathe. And I have so much to read for school...but I am going to sleep with George tonight. That's all there is to it.

Stay tuned. I'm surprisingly pleased with life the world and everything tonight, but you know how closely bitterness always follows sweets. For the sake of keeping your faith in me I'll let you in on one of my more clever aphorisms of the last month of so: "I feel the same way about doctors that I feel about pants: everyone should have to use them but me." I said something I can't touch and I always want way too much, anyway. Convert to Weinism. Convert to knowledge.

Some Things to Think About

"If you don't shut the hell up right now, I'm going to rip out my uterus and strangle you with my fallopian tubes." --Jean, on numerous occasions. Why is it that when we get angry we start talking about our uteruses?

Everybody is a little worked up right now. A month after Christmas, resolutions are failing and reality is setting in again. I warned you about that. But no one likes to listen to me, and since I tend to believe I'm at least partly to blame (because I say so many important things it's sometimes hard to keep track), I'd like to take a moment to point out a few important things:

• The Conservatives can't end the world. Don't forget that across the country there are people whose worst nightmares involve Jack Layton just thinking he has any control, and likewise, some people would have done absolutely anything to prevent the Conservatives from getting elected. In a university environment, I get a lot more exposure to the latter, but when I'm home the former reigns supreme. The middle ground usually wins out in Canada, which is why Mackenzie King lasted so long--he said nothing and did as little as possible. Some things will change, but there are still a lot of people in Canada who will make sure Bush knows how we feel about him, no matter what Harper says.
• Valentines Day is usually worse for couples than single people. I know you don't believe me, but coming up to the 14th of February, more fights break out over the absence of one or the other or both partners on a day that has been commercialized. Don't forget it was named after a guy that was brutally killed for his religious beliefs. No, not cupid.
• January marks the second half of a relatively short school year. If you can get through four months at an unstimulating low- (or, for many of us, high-)paying job, at which you would rather rip out your own tongue, tear it in half, and stick each half in your ear rather than hear the conversations around you, then you can handle 15 hours of class a week and few piddly readings. You don't get a reading week halfway through the summer. You're lucky if you have the energy to get trashed once a week with those people that inspire the tongue ripping.
• Someone you know has it much worse than you do and you don't know it. My old philosophy of just trying to make life easier for everybody else comes into play here. I know, you're dog ran away and your parents won't give you any peace and you are all confused about what you're going to do about that boy/girl/teacher/friend/enemy...and of course, I'm not trying to cut you down for a little self-pity (we all know how much I enjoy it) but chances are, when you are really upset about something huge, you don't act the same way as you would about that little blowout you had with your roommate. Right? So focus outward just a little. Make sure everyone around you is okay. If you haven't seen someone for a few days, give them a call. Making sure the people you care about are still breathing amidst your own sorrows will at least make you seem like a good friend. That means when you really need a favour, you can find a few people who owe you their life or their sanity and let them take you somewhere to get plastered.
  
• Your best friend is probably not the person you think it is. It is not the person you spend every second with, or the person who listens intently to you when you have a problem. It is the person who absolutely insists on staying the whole five hours at a yarn event even if it means you have to walk, hitchhike, or ride your bike back to London. It's the person who asks the dumb questions that force you to give an honest answer. The person who laughs at you for getting all worked up over your disastrous life. It's the person that you call in tears, who shows up at your door and kidnaps you for Second Cup. She is the person who you talked into driving you to a yarn outlet in Listowel, you got lost, compensated with a can of coke, and made sit and wait in a college hallway for three hours so that you didn't have to take a bus to Waterloo, even though you told her she didn't have to take you. Of course she did. It was the yarn outlet for heaven's sake. If you don't have one of those, I pity you so much.
  
• Some of the people that really care about you act like they don't. It's the kindergarten tactic: torment the one you love. I've never been more mad at Shane then when he starts pushing my buttons because I know that he is doing it on purpose. I have a lot more patience for the person that doesn't know how I'll react. What's all this mean? If I'm driving you nuts it's because I love you. What a compliment!
• Everything's wrong, and it's alright. When in doubt, sing a lot of songs that make you laugh. Or, tell somebody this joke: What is green, has four legs, and if it falls out of a tree it could kill you? A pool table. It's funny because you wouldn't expect a pool table to be in a tree!
  

I am so late for class again. I was supposed to work out my essay outline for my Gulliver's Travels paper. Instead, I rambled about things you should already know but that I really think a lot of people have forgotten. The most important thing to remember is THINGS COULD BE WORSE. Always. Don't forget to convert. Your bitter happiness is awaiting you.

Everything that's Wrong with the World

As of 11:39 tonight:

Conservative: 124 seats
Liberals: 102 seats
Bloc: 50
NDP: 31
Independent: 1

No one is happy and the CBC keeps saying there's a partial victory for everyone. So, right now, the NDP has some sway; but I think you're crazy if you think they can get along with the Conservatives. We'll see. Back to the polls before you know it I bet. Maybe by then the choices will be more appealing. Not likely. Here comes hostile mid-January. Man alive.

Jumping Jolly January

I lied. I really hate it. January sucks.

January is madness. I think madness and January should be synonymous. In fact, from now on, I'm going to use them interchangeably. When chaos breaks loose, I'm going to curl up in a little ball and cry: "This is JANUARY!" And the whole world is going to look at me and say, "Well, thank you Mrs. Obvious." Because the whole world is not very creative when it has to be expressed collectively. Also, I'm going to start dating my work, Madness 18th, 2006. Moreover, I will refer back to the beginning of Madness, just after New Years.

So, my friends, this is why Madness is january:

• Half the world is trying to make resolutions and the other half is resolving not to make any. And I hate them all.
• People get paranoid about crazy things, like fruit flies stealing their buns. Who has ever heard of fruit flies in Madness? It is way too cold for them.
• Delayed midterms. More than that, all the teachers that think that Madness is not january and January is not pure madness, so they make you do more work than normal because you have the time now and you won't have it in March.
• Snow. I know, yesterday I would have told you that I would much prefer snow to the freezing rain that was dripping down my back. But today is not yesterday and today I hate snow.
• Crazy teachers. I had a whole month away from them, and when I came back the madness had spread. They have the worst cases of the Januaries I've ever seen. Today my DTP teacher ended his lecture like this: "So is everybody okay? Isn't life great? Are you all feeling good? How about this weather eh? I fell in love for the first time on a day just like this. I was thinking about it this morning; I can still remember the way the snowflakes looked on her eyelashes...I was six. I'm lying I was old. You can leave now if you want." JANUARY!

Want some tips on how to live through this Madness? Hide. Go to bed for a week and then go to the doctor so you can be diagnosed with SAD and get out of those delayed midterms and not find yourself crying about snow and the January of Madness. I've gone so far as to invite company (two people in one weekend!) in an attempt to counteract the January that is driving me to drink. I don't know how much of a solution that is. It's like I said to Will, we're great at identifying a whole list of problems, but we haven't got a single solution. What a world. Happy hostile Wednesday. Don't forget to convert a friend.

My New Year's Resolve

Things that I want to believe I can start or stop doing.

Resolution #1 (And the pains it took to get me there...)
The new year causes a lot of things to happen for lots of people. Talk of New Year's resolutions gets old really fast, and I'll tell you off the bat, my resolve has nothing to do with boring the likes of you. (That means I can bore you or I can not...t makes no difference to me.)

Well, so here's what actually got me thinking: back in October, when the Shane and Erin Book of the Month Club was just getting underway, I bought myself the Daily Show Day Calendar. Ya ya, who buys a calendar in October? Me, okay? Are you satisfied? Well, I was behind a little, and didn't start tearing off pages until I got back to London. And I stood there for a long time, wondering what I should do with them. Now there is a stack of 12 or so, just sitting on top of my book shelf--messy as all get out. Moreover, everything that is on the calendar is in the America book, which Shane bought me for Christmas. So it's not as though I will never be able to find the quotes and whatnot if I throw them out.

And I couldn't figure out what my affiliation to these pieces of garbage is. For the life of me, I don't know why I can't just get rid of them. Part of me is a little sad that so much paper is being wasted, but to be honest I don't let myself dwell on things like that...it's not that hard to recycle after all.

Yesterday, I was doing some reading and watching tv and my mom came in, all excited and asked me if I read her Chicken Soup calendar story yet. Then she brought it in and stood over me until I read it and smiled up at her and told her it was cute. And I thought to myself, How crazy is she? Then went back to my reading.

So it finally hit me, when I went into the kitchen today: my mother makes me do it. I want to keep those calendar stories because my mother is a pack rat. Tried and true, she is pained by the mere suggestion that she is keeping too much junk because she is not only a pack rat, she is also in major denial. It's only the fifteenth of January, and already she has put about ten Chicken Soup calendar quotes up on the fridge. Oh, so she threw out five? That's bad but not so bad, right? Well, no...Saturday and Sunday count together.

And that of course, brings me to my first New Year's resolution: I'm going to actively embrace my pack rattiness. That means, I won't worry about why I keep things or even where I keep them...I will just be proud of myself for keeping them. Go me.

Don't worry they won't all be that long.

Resolution #2: Dedicated to every body else
Now, here I am, having a few drinks while I type away. The tv is playing some movie I don't want to watch and no one is saying any thing I'm very interested in hearing. And then, Andrew dropped my booze on the concrete floor! Oh my goodness gracious, so much for creative juices...and here is it, number two: I'm not going to let any body I wouldn't trust with my life handle my alcohol. That means that if you have any plans to slip me a little date rape, you better be damn convincing and a completely trustworthy, unclumsy kind of wonderful. Nothing less will do. My faith was shattered like the bottle, and even if you put all the pieces back together, it would never be the same again.

Resolution #3: Boo to Listening
I think more than anything I am tired of advice. I'm really exhausted from hearing other people tell me what I think and what I feel and what I should be doing differently. I know that sounds harsh, but the fact is the people who offer that advice don't know how to live their own lives, so they think they can control mine. How annoying. Even if they know better, sometimes I think I'd rather stay in the dark. That means, ignorance is bliss--for real this time. And I'll make it fair, if I ask you a question, you don't have to spare my feelings, but for the love of Pete's starving family, don't take it upon yourself to tell me something because you think I need to know it. Let me decide. If I want to or need to know something, then I will probably find out, with or without you as the case may dictate. You can count on the same from me, unless otherwise stated in section V.ii of our friendship/enemy agreement. Got it?

Resolution #4: My Life is a Closed Book
Pretend it doesn't even exist. That'll make things a lot easier on me...I can't have any secrets if I don't have any...what is the opposite of secret? We'll try it another way: I won't be hiding anything, if I am hiding everything...Yes, twisted logic, that is resolution number 4 and 5.

Let me know your resolutions too. I know you have some good ones. Let me get you started: resolution #1 for every body but me...listen to more goo. I said something I can't touch cuz I always want way too much anyway...then you might know what it is I'm talking about.

New Converts

I rang in the new year with a plethora of new converts. By choice or by force, at least I'm willing to provide proof. Convert #1: Pete's foot. Because he just didn't want to put the finger on his hand. I think he should have been more accomodating since he ate most of my New Year's shrimp.
Convert #2: Jason Mc---(name's been withheld to protect the crazy) aka Shane's brother aka Big Bozo. Doesn't he look excited to be a new Weiner?
Convert #3: Jamie Sternberger aka Hugh Sternberger's twin. No, their last name isn't really Sternberger, but I like to believe it could be someday.