Boo to the World

Or, what to do when the event that was supposed to get you through the rest of the week is "cancelled."

Boo to the Lies
Anyone who knows me well, knew that the second I saw the Gwynne Dyer posters up around the university I started planning the upcoming week around his arrival. It's dorky, I know. But when two days in February have been drawn out over three weeks, you take what you can get.

So, you shouldn't be surprised by the fact that when that scrawny little know-nothing from the USC approached the podium and said that the whole thing was cancelled had I something to throw, I would have thrown it.

With that news at my disposal, I just sat there with my jaw nearly hitting the floor, teeter-tottering between rage and devastation. Then a ray of hope: a man with a silly red scarf announced that there is no way that it should be cancelled--Dyer is coming. Well, I don't usually make it my business to take the advice of men in silly red scarves, but some days you believe what you want to be true. Today was one of those days.

And come Dyer did. I was so glad I waited that I came up with a complex story about how the USC tried to sabotage the lecture in order to sell more drinks to minors while emptying out seats in front of the stage. My story was elaborate, sure; but if I were you I might doubt its validity. Just a thought.

So what did I learn? As much as a person possibly can from a writer that one has studied with nearly religious fervour. That is to say, I was happy to hear him speak, and he said some things that I hadn't thought of or fully understood, but they were things that I had read in one of his books or articles somewhere along the line.

Granted, I never thought I would hear the words "Long live the Communist Party of China, I guess" come out of the mouth of such a man. Just like in his writing, he structured his lecture very carefully to end on a baffling paradox that pulled everything together so neatly/disturbingly/confusingly that I sat there in shock for about twenty minutes, at which time I realized I was late for meeting Alycia.

Jean will be disappointed with me, but I didn't make a "In Dire need of Dyer" sign or stand up and shout when he arrived. I loved the fact that the USC set up a large pitcher of water for Mr. Dyer, and he found a way to get a beer instead. It's really classy to talk politics with a pint in hand. Note to self: always drink a pint while discussing the fate of the world.

Boo to No Shows
Besides Gwynne, I had an "interesting" afternoon. I met up with Alycia and hiked up to Essex to give a resume writing presentation, to which no one showed up. But there were cookies so we stuck around and talked to the Academic Counsellors. Eventually, about 6 or 7 people did come in at different times and we sat down and put in some face time with each and every one of them. For the most part they were polite and receptive, grateful and extremely nice. And then it was time to go...

Boo to Idiots
But you know that my stories never end that well. About two or three minutes before we were supposed to check out, this kid comes running in, laptop in hand, and says, "I just really need some help! I'm not too late am I?" And I, knowing that Alycia had to run home to do her feasability report, said, "I can give you some help quick. But I have to run soon so that I can catch my bus." I thought he seemed like a nice kid and you all know how bad I am at leaving someone who wants (my) help high and dry.

I thought it would be normal. I thought that I would tell him what I tell everyone else in a matter of seconds and then be on my way. But nothing I said sunk in with this kid. Every suggestion I made he argued with me about. I didn't want to be rude, and I finally suggested that he come in and talk to someone else at the job search clinic, where there are more resources and someone would be able to explain more thoroughly why "was trusted to close the store" is a passive and inappropriate point for a job description. [Sidebar: If you don't know, I can explain it. It's really not that difficult. However, if you try to tell me that "was trusted" and "closed" are both verbs in the passive voice I will personally club you to death. Okay?]

Boo to London Transit
And so I missed my bus. It was after 7, which means that the buses come way way less often. And so I froze a little. Took the 9C up to Wonderland and walked the rest of the way home. Upon arrival, I remembered that I hadn't eaten all day and despite the fact that the only thing I really wanted in the whole world was a rum and coke, I made myself some cheese sticks and tried to forget all about life.

Boo to Homework
Clearly I have not done any of my reading or homework as I was supposed to since my long and treacherous journey back from the school. Two out of my three analyses are done, but I don't know if they are right at all so I quit. I should be reading Robinson Crusoe but I love talking to you all so much more.

I finished up As I Lay Dying last night, but haven't touched the other things that I wanted to have done in anticipation of slack week. Granted, I will have a full week, plus a few days, to catch up as I see fit.

Boo to March
It is upon us. March is so close it hurts to think about it. Prepare yourselves for more drama than usual (and I know, I provide a healthy dose as it is). In March I should hear something about Ford for the summer. Boo to Ford. Boo to March. Boo to essays.

Boo to the World!

Yes, that means you. Boo to you too.

Random: Visual Version

As promised. I am not to blame for more than half of these random pictures. (Did you like my ambiguity there? I sure hope so.)

I didn't think this is the picture I was choosing...but they take so very long to load. It's kind of scary, but only if you are a wimp like me. Dennis took it. He can have all the credit. (Jobe 2006) Yes, I am citing everything because Rory made me think it was a good idea.

Katrina and her drunken friends in Korea. They wouldn't be so happy if they realized I was missing. (? 2006)

This is the first picture I was looking for. It is Rory's interpretation of how the blanket I am making him would look. He clarifies, "Only with more stars like that one and a really ugly green" (Burns 2006). No wonder he was worried. No wonder his worry made me want to cry.

The look on Brett's face when Ana kissed me at the bar as a birthday present. Also, the reason why we had to pose again for the camera--Shane turned to take a picture of Brett at the last second instead of us...stupid boys. (McGinnes 2006)

The look on Ana's face after she took the nasty shot as part of the drinking game. Here's what was in it: rum and coke, orange juice and vodka, motts clamato, banana liquer and sambooka. Oh, and I think some sort of mango juice. I would have died first. Ana's a trooper. (McGinnes/Smith [the distinction is a little hazy on a night like that one] 2006)

My fourteen year old brother skating on top of the pool. No, that's really not safe. If the picture had audio, you'd be able to hear me yelling at him to get off the pool and at Shane for thinking it was funny... (McGinnes 2006)

This is an otter and its yellow slide. We saw the otter at Storybook Gardens. I love otters. (McGinnes 2005)
This is a picture that Rory painted and sent to me via MSN. Look at that talent (Burns 2006).

Wouldn't you like to live in an apartment with a view like that? I would too. Unfortunately, I think that apartment is make believe because Dennis cut out some building that was uglying up his photo. If you were ever curious about what a hangover and some boredom in London can do for you, this might be the best answer you're ever going to get. Suddenly I feel like a horrible hostess. (Jobe 2006).

The penguin that Shane won for me at the movies on our 3rd anniversary. Isn't it adorable? (Smith 2005).

And that is that. More randomness to come, but you knew that already didn't you? Back to Gulliver's Englishness.

Random

Every now and then I like to make a post that makes you walk away saying, "Well, that was random." This is one of those times.

Yesterday during my group's rendition of One Flea Spare, (1.2 and 2.5--for those of you that are familiar with Naomi Wallace) Rohan spit in my face. He was supposed to miss. He missed the place he was aiming for (the floor) and the saliva caught me between my nose and upper lip. Everyone who didn't see what happened was convinced that my acting skills had just improved dramatically as I finished the extremely emotional scene on the brink of tears.

Gwynne Dyer is coming to UWO and I'm going to see him at all costs. The cost will likely be 2% of my participation mark in the class where I either get spit on or gaze at myself in a mirror, pretending to be the lesbian lover of Rohan--a gay man.

At least the cost isn't cash. Shane's on unemployment and I'm trying to save my death money. There's no one left to die to give me more inheritance if I can't pay my rent next year.

OSAP should look a little more seriously at the little girl--me.

I finished up Shane's red blanket in time for Valentine's Day and he forgot to take it back to Toronto with him. I didn't realize he left it until about two seconds ago.

I started Rory's blanket and it makes me laugh so very hard. It is a green and black starburst blanket. Rory tells me it is superb.

Jean is making an identical blanket but her starbursts will be orange. She keeps calling me to ask me how the pattern goes. It is SO simple. [Row a: ch 3 (counts as dc) 2 dc in next 2 dc, ch 1, (dc in next dc, ch 1) across to last 3 dc, 3 dc in las 3 dc. Row b: ch 3, 2 dc in next 2 dc, ch 1 (7 dc in next 7 st/sp, ch 1) across to last 3 dc, 3 dc in last 3 dc, etc.]

More than wanting to know the pattern she wanted to know why her starbursts didn't look the same as mine. My initial reaction was to tell her because hers are orange and mine are green. My second reaction was to tell her that I had no idea because I lost my ability to see things over the phone after the terrible boating accident of '89.

No, there was no terrible boating accident of '89.

No, there was no terrible boating accident at all.

It was a snowmobile accident, okay? I saw the tree, but no body told me the brakes didn't work.

The deadline for submission of applications for English 298E has been extended. I now have an extra week to get ulcers about applying for a creative writing class that I probably won't like anyway. If you still want to help me out with that one visit http://irisinexile.blogspot.com or ask me for the manuscriptI put together to hand in yesterday.

I was so ready to be a better person before I went to sleep last night. I convinced myself that I just need to buckle down a bit and everything would be okay. I packed gym clothes so that I could go to the pilates class and everything.

Hostile Wednesday hit and my resolution failed. Again.

Not only did I get spit on yesterday in Modern Drama, I had to feel up and kiss a stranger. Well, it was Shane, but not the Shane you think it is.

I am painfully aware of my feet right now.

My essay on Gulliver as a foolish Englishman and how his persona helps satirize the values of Great Britain as a whole in the 18th century is not going well. It's due tomorrow. I have all the books, a half decent outline and 4 pages written. But I can't make it long enough. I have never had the "not long enough" problem--only the "way way too long" problem. I am tired of thinking about Swift.

I am forcing myself to stay in the computer lab for as long as possible because if I leave I think I might make a run for it. And American Lit is really quite important.

I haven't finished As I Lay Dying yet. That's what we're supposed to be talking about in American Lit.

My mom reminded me 15 times before I left on Sunday that I needed to check the mail for her Valentine. It still hasn't come.

I actually have no solution to the sound of this pollution in me. Only more problems.

Monday morning on the bus instead of bursting into tears (like normal) I started laughing so hard because I was listening to Here is Gone and it reminded me of my first Goo Goo Dolls concert with Jenn, Jay, and Rebecca. The look was all for me.

If there were one person in the world right now that I would really want to talk to it would be Rebecca. I guess absence actually makes the heart grow fonder. I was pretty fond of her from the get go though.

Rory has decided that my dream job would be to type out interviews for newspapers from audio tapes. He based this decision on the fact that I am anal about putting two spaces between a period and the first letter of the next sentence.

Blogger always erases the second space. It drives me nuts.

Hillary is coming to London for the weekend. She is very excited. On Saturday she is going to make me dinner.

I have a psychology exam at 2 o'clock on Saturday afternoon.

I hate the world for hating me.

Try as I might, some days I am destined to lose every game of FreeCell that I play. Today appears to be one of those days.

The SDC is recruiting new volunteers for the Career Assistant Program. You could do what I do, only not quite as well. I am the sole returning Career Assistant out of the 13 volunteers that we had this year. That oughta tell you something about my perseverence--or everyone else's lack thereof. This will be my third year as a Career Assistant. They will never change my title though unless I'm enrolled in a program so that I can become an intern, or have graduated from a program so that I can be a counsellor.

My ability and tendency to trust anyone decreases more and more with each passing day. You've done nothing to counteract this phenomenon.

I sent a bunch of people ecards for Valentine's day. If you didn't get one, don't be offended because I was only sending them to people I was actually talking to at the time. I sent one to Dennis and he was so mad at me. But I got an email that says he opened it. I bet he loved it and now he feels horrible for treating me so cruelly. Actually, I mostly bet that he was drunk and didn't know what he was doing. And now he hates me a little more than he did the day before.

My plan is working.

Gilmore Girls might just be the best thing that ever happened to me.

On May 6th, Shane made plans to take me to the restaurant at the CN Tower. Convinced it was our 3 and a half year (plus two days so that it would be a Saturday) anniversary, he arranged everything a few weeks ago. He told me to keep the day free last weekend.

Shane never plans anything more than two minutes in advance.

May 6th is a month too early for a three and a half year celebration. Three years, five months, and two days seems like an odd occasion to plan something big.

After I pointed all of this out he started claiming it was all part of his master plan to divert my attention. Wow.

This entry just keeps getting longer and longer. But there was a specific something I wanted to say and now I can't remember what it was. So I just keep typing.

I am pretty sure I forgot to put deoderant on this morning and I'm paying for it now.

I am a question to the world. Not an answer to be heard. Or a moment, that's held in your arms.

Terri-Lynn and I have invented new slang. That's so feb of us.

It smells like kelbassa in here. I don't know why. At least its not making me hungry.

Damn, I just realized I haven't eaten anything yet. Coke won't sustain me forever, or will it?

Sometimes, the ability and drive to persevere is priceless. More often than not, worthless.

I'm going to go home tonight to try to find the name of the rhetorical scheme I just used there.

I lost my third FreeCell game in a row and I still can't remember what that everso pertinent point was.

Stay tuned for "Random: The Visual Version" with such entries as "This is my lamp. Dennis took a picture of it and then made it look more blue. I don't understand how he did it. I don't think I care. But maybe I do." It will be all kinds of great fun. I was not the answer so forget you ever thought it was me. Whatta ya got to move you, darling? Please don't say spitting in my face.

Groundhog Day: An Exposé

It's always been a pack of lies, of course, but it's fun, and we need fun if we are to survive another Canadian February. --CBC News Online. February 2, 2006. Available: http://www.cbc.ca/news/background/groundhogday/

Wiarton Willie, the groundhog that kept the lie working for him, so he could continue to work for a lie...until the day he died.

(Photo courtesy of CBC News Online.)

When I first found out about Groundhog day, I was perplexed. Seriously, the logic is fairly twisted, don't you think? If it's sunny then winter is going to last but if its snowing or cloudy or generally disgusting then we can throw a party because spring is coming early. And CBC says we can blame the crazy Scots for it.

Groundhog day should have been put to rest with Willie's death, but they just found a replacement. More than that, the display of Willie's body at his wake (which you have to admit is a little creepy to begin with) was a farce. CBC reports: "On Groundhog Day, they put Wiarton Willie face-up in a small pine casket, bright pennies over his eyes, paws clutching a raw carrot. But it was a fake! Turns out the real Wiarton Willie was so disgustingly decomposed he couldn't be put on display, so they found a stuffed facsimile and laid it in the casket."

Honestly, I don't know how that could be shocking. Animals rot after they die. If they could fake Willie's ability to predict the future, then why would they even consider not faking his death/burial? And why the hell did anybody care? I don't think anybody did. Well, no body but these guys:

A bunch of old men with no legitimate reason left for dressing in ugly suits and donning weird top hats. The only one I would trust even a little is the guy in the black hat, he just seems to be having fun and smiling for the camera. The big guy in front scares the crap out of me. He looks like he's thinking about punching someone in the face for doubting Willie's magnificent ability to see or not see his shadow. After that, the man on the far right who is "consulting" with the groundhog is probably just off his rocker. I make it a rule never to trust people that I think are insane.

But the plan is set. Next year, Andrew and I are going to blind[fold] the new Willies so that it is impossible for them to see their shadow. I said maybe we should just give them each an eye patch, so it would be harder but we wouldn't be cheating as much. Andrew pointed out that it's all a lie anyway, so it's not cheating because it can't be true. I was inclined to agree.

Happy February everybody. And remember, "Christmas lights are for Christmas, NOT groundhog day!"