::alio!::

change of heart

Babies are odd creatures. To me, they're kind of like cats: I don't really get them, so I usually ignore them. Recently (due to the biological clock?), that's been harder to do. I think my nephew will cure me for good. What an amiable child! He's very strong, very quiet (except when he teeths at midnight), and very very wriggly. All in all, a fun date.

Man, it's FOUR degrees outside. I wish I'd worn my mittens. I can barely type.

I'm also still exhausted. I haven't been sleeping well these past few weeks. I guess it's back on the tranqs for me. Yay. I just wish they didn't taste so bad.

Also, another update on the marriage situation: I'm now sharing maid of honour duties with Sam's best friend. I know it's because I'm actually IN town that I've been chosen, but somehow I don't think it's appropriate -- I am NOT Sam's best friend, and I think she should get all the glory to herself. I am content to be a lowly bridesmaid. Especially as I will be simultaneously finishing off my thesis and entering the playoffs at that time. I'll have to turn it down, I think. I'm flattered, but I just don't think it's feasible. The way she's putting it, it's going to be a lot of work just to be a bridesmaid, let alone a maid of honour.

Anyway, I suppose I'd better work.

married . . . and children?

MARRIAGE.

Scary subject.

What's freakier is that it's coming up in conversation more and more these days.

Half my friends and relatives my age are married. Another quarter is getting married within the next two years. There's another one every day. Yesterday I find out Damon's getting married in June. Then I talk to Sam today and she and Jay are engaged as of yesterday.

I have to be a BRIDESMAID. On 7 April 2007.

There's pressure from all sides (including familial pressure) to tie the knot. I'm even reading BOOKS about people who get married.

Tonight Dave and Henna (married two years ago) arrive at my house from England with my brand-new "nephew" Arun. When they leave, I have no doubt the pressure will increase tenfold.

I've even discussed this stuff with the Pie.
(Don't freak out, we're not getting married.)

WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?

Can we establish here that I am only 23 years old, with a good six and a half years of school left in me, a career to fight for, and other pursuits to -- um -- pursue?

Please.

I can't even take care of myself, let alone a husband and possible children (who I am NOT naming ELMER, for the record).

Sheesh.

Chill out.

Although I always put marriage into my career plans, figuring out that I'd prolly get married about the time I finished my MA, have kids while doing my PhD, take them into the field with me and all that nonsense. Because you really should have as many kids as you can before 30. Having kids after that is scary. Aside from the things that could possibly be wrong with them, you'll be too old to enjoy them when they're adults and become interesting.

BUT WAIT! I finish my MA NEXT YEAR!

The heat is on, folks. The heat is on.

haiku

Friday Office Haiku

(by me)

Dear Sir or Madam:
This will confirm that I will
soon be going home.

Okay, so it's not my best, but it's still Friday.

close call

Other than take my mother to physio today, I've done pretty much nothing. I've felt lazy, and I didn't have class. Sure, I'm heading to work in a few minutes, but I don't think I'll work too hard while I'm there.

Interesting event:

Last night Stefan and Andy and I were returning from a sojourn at the airport and we were headed off Hunt Club onto the Airport Parkway when we nearly ran head-on into a car coming the other way -- down an ONRAMP. Dude didn't even slow down as Andy veered into the curb and leaned on the horn -- just sort of swerved around the guy behind us, who had simply stopped where he was.

What's interesting is that Andy and I were watching the curve, because he was driving, and because that's what I tend to do when I'm not driving, is look like I'm driving, so Stefan, who was riding shotgun, saw it first.

Also interesting is that, if you're in the front seat, Andy's Acura is super safe: side and front and passenger airbags. But Stefan is tall, so I let him sit in the front, and he pushed his seat far back. Had we been in an accident, I prolly wouldn't have been so peachy-keen. So I'm counting my blessings today. We'll have to see about tomorrow.

school daze

Things I Learned Today at School:

1. The reason men stare at women, and buy magazines full of pictures of them, is because when they do so, their brains release endorphins that make them feel stupid happy.

2. Karen, my prof (and potential committee advisor for my thesis) and I have bonded over a television show. She is an unabashed fanatic enthusiast for FIREFLY.

This came about because I introduced the show's way of explaining history as a point I was making about mythology. We both had a geek fest about how the movie is coming out next Friday, blah blah blah, and went all anthropological on the whole show (which is such a goldmine), while the rest of the class just stared at us. They've all resolved to check it out, now.

But yes, my lovely little class of Karen and one other student has expanded to four students, one of whom I was in undergrad with, and another with whom I have an email acquaintance (we were TAs of the same course last year). Personally, although this means my classes will be longer and that I'll have to go to more, I won't have to work as hard, as I'll only have to run lectures twice, and I think that the more students there, the easier it will be to bridge certain interest gaps. For instance, Chris, who was there last week, is solely interested in the History portion of this S&S class on History and Performance, while I'm interested in the Performance aspect. But now Nat is there with her interests in Romantic portrayals (history and performance) and Damon is there with his philosophical theories (which sort of apply everywhere), so now the conversation is a little more lively.

In any case, things, for once, appear to be under control. Aside from battling the worst seasonal allergies I have ever had (I'm usually only allergic to dust and mold), things are peaceful. I've prepared my scholarship applications and submitted required information to professors way ahead of schedule, and I have an extra day a week in which to do my homework, and I only have to do homework for two of my three classes in any given week -- so far. Only three papers to write. No exams. Of course, I should spend a good three hours a night reading and researching. As it is, with my schedule, I spend all my Wednesdays doing that, and parts of my weekends, but it all evens out in the end.

Grad school is going to be tough, but I think it will be fun, because I finally get to do what *I* want to do!

strange business is afoot

This will keep my street talking for months.

Last night, around eleven, as I had just gotten into bed, I heard somebody yelling, "Get DOWN! GET DOWN!"

At first, I thought it was my neighbour yelling at his dog. But it wasn't my neighbour's voice, and his dog, although he's the largest rottweiler I've ever seen, doesn't need that kind of direction.

Then I heard, "DROP IT AND GET DOWN ON THE GROUND NOW!"

Police.

I wander downstairs, trying to figure out where this noise is coming from, and I hear a blood-curdling scream. And then another one, and more shouting to get down and stay still. Then I hear, "What's your address?" and the reply is the address of my next-door neighbour. Odd.

My entire family has congregated in the living room. We determine the sound is coming from next door, although it has moved from the driveway to the backyard. Dogs are barking all up the street, so it's kind of hard to hear what they're saying, although I can tell the constable is having trouble holding this guy down, as he has to hit him a few times with his MagLite. Accompanied by more blood-curdling screams and "GET OFF ME! YOU'RE HURTING ME! THIS IS BRUTALITY!"

We were getting kind of worried: one cop and a crazy man? But luckily backup showed within five minutes. And what backup it was! A cruiser and two of those huge black SUVs.

At this point, all my neighbours deem it safe to emerge from their houses and find out what the hell is going on. They're all old, so they're all in their pyjamas. My next-door neighbour, Joe, comes out of his house and the police approach him, while his wife, Rosa, remains on the porch. While Joe and the officers go into the backyard to see if the suspect dumped anything, the suspect was dragged by three officers into the back of the cruiser, kicking and screaming. Once inside, he started yelling that he couldn't breath. We could hear this because all the cruiser windows were open.

Rosa tells us that she saw the suspect and the police officer wrestle the entire length of her driveway, from back to front and back again, before the backup arrived.

We hear an officer telling the suspect not to run from police, and we determine that he has knocked over the Scotiabank ATM at the end of the street, and that another suspect is still on the loose. Three officers go off down the street to where he might be.

My dad goes out to talk to the constable who is still talking to Joe, and finds out that, yes, indeed, they did knock over the bank. He told me that the ranting and raving suspect was curled in the back of the cruiser, and that, although he was black as the ace of spades, he was sweating so much he was white in the glare of the headlights. He was on something that took him out of this world. Apparently, the constable had chased him through all the backyards on my block, which all have six-foot fences or higher.

I was quite impressed with that officer. He was half the size of the suspect and still he brought him down -- with difficulty.

The funny thing is, my next-door neighbours on that side also have a rottweiler, and this one is vicious. He was inside last night, but if he hadn't been, he would have torn the suspect to shreds. The constable said that if that had happened, they would have waited for the dog to finish with the suspect before they took him away.

Anyway, that's all I can really remember about it, but it sure was interesting.

Out.

Chris is funny

I am amazed at how much I have suddenly discovered I need to do before Monday.

Scholarship applications, prospectus writing, paper reading, pie-making, computer-sitting, garage cleaning, room re-organizing . . . it's enough to make my head spin.

On a lighter note, I have a little story for you. In my kitchen, there is a weird sort of desk built into the wall below one of the windows. None of my family likes it, but we haven't yet gotten rid of it. Thus, it remains.

Christopher is painting the windows in the house, and now he's cleaning them all for the winter. In my family, we use newspaper to clean windows because it's lint-free and better at scrubbing.

I came down for breakfast this morning and found Chris standing on the desk, pressed up against the window, reading the Globe and Mail from last week. When I remarked that it was an odd place to read the paper, his only reply was "the light's better."

Of course, that story would have been funnier if I hadn't explained it, and if you knew my brother. Odd fellow.

Uncle Jim

So we just found out that my great uncle, Jim Swail, died this morning of a heart attack. He was old, don't worry.

I didn't get along with him in his later years because he had a habit of picking apart everything I said and insulting me. But when I was younger we had a lot of fun.

This man was an engineer who specialized in radio waves. He would fix his own radio tower, and was instrumental in the renovations of my family's cottage in Quebec. He was a Companion of the Order of Canada and a well-respected inventor.

And the coolest thing is that he did all these things while being BLIND. He was the dude who invented that folding white cane that blind people use to get around on their own.

He always had this weird ability to recognize people by their steps and their breathing. He even recognized mine when I hadn't seen him in ten years and had probably grown a foot or two. Amazing.

In any case, that's my story for today. The general annoyances of school and work don't quite match up to the permanent loss of a great mind, so that's all I'll say. Don't be surprised if you see some big article in the paper on the weekend. He really was quite a famous scientist.

Rest in peace.

things to come

So much for a vacation.

I've had a few hours of idleness, but the rest has been spent going to meetings and making calls. I have another meeting in 45 minutes.

There are so many things I wish I had accomplished this week, little things I wanted to do that will now have to wait until the next time I can draw breath for a moment or two.

But I have done some things. Gone to school, met with my supervisor, rearranged my classes, ordered transcripts, opted out of medical/dental coverage (that's $170 back into my pocket). Now I'm off to a meeting with my fanancial planner, in the hopes she can scare me into saving, and then to some shopping for THAT BIG-ish DAY that is coming up next Monday.

do you remember your dreams?

Alas, the last camping trip of the summer is over and I have nothing but Christmas to look forward to for a vacation!

I had three interesting dreams this morning. One of them is too convoluted to write coherently, but here are the other two.

DREAM THE FIRST:

In order to prevent mutiny aboard a historically restored ship, we had to trace the origins of a previous mutiny. This involved going into all the rooms on the ship and looking in the corners for pieces of slag and stone. These clues marked the progress of the crew, who had secretly been learning to make stone and iron tools and weapons.

Once we had pieced together all the clues, the progression of the crew's skills pointed us in the direction of where they had gone when they had jumped ship. This location would also be where our present-day crew had disappeared to. We ended up on a highly forested island, home to hundreds of very tall and very graceful (and perfectly silent) brown-skinned people. They didn't seem at all surprised to see us, and we found that our crew had been there for some time, enjoying the peace, and perfectly insistent on staying. We surmised, from the pigment variation among the island people, that the historical crew had also decided to stay.

DREAM THE SECOND:

I took my mother to Carlingwood Shopping Centre because she had to do some exercises in this special gym there, which was really just a very small white room. I took her wallet into the lockerroom for safekeeping, but I couldn't find a locker with a lock on it. Everyone else there had just put their incredibly girly backpacks into the lockers and left them open, but I was leery of doing this, as the girls in the room were all young and highly catty. None of them would tell me where the bathroom was, and I really had to pee. They were also making rude remarks about my mother, calling her "the dead bird."

At this point, I was getting really angry, and when one of them reached into the locker that held my mother's wallet and pulled it out, remarking, "Oh, this must belong to the dead bird," I snatched it out of her hand and stomped off to find the bathroom for myself.

I wandered down a long hallway until finally I saw a sign for a washroom. I walked in and the place was huge. Not wanting to deal with people, because I was still very angry, I ignored the group of people near the front and walked to the back corner. As I entered my stall, however, I noticed that someone had followed me back there. And that person looked suspiciously like a man. I had no sooner undone the top button of my jeans when his head appeared over top of my stall. I asked him angrily what he thought he was doing, and he mouthed, "I'm looking at you, my pretty," and then he leered at me.

Incensed, I stood up on the toilet seat, pointed at him, and shouted, "PERVERT! PERVERT! PERVERT!" I remember thinking that this was the first dream where I'd ever had to shout and had actually been able to. Most of the time nothing more than a whisper comes out of my mouth. Then I looked around and realized why this was so. I WAS IN THE MEN'S BATHROOM. The pervert, who had cowered on the floor during my denunciation, escaped during the ensuing laughter. Not embarrassed at all, however, I apologized for entering the men's bathroom. As I stepped down off the toilet seat, I said loudly, "But he was still a pervert." One man came forward and asked me for a description of him: beige touque, gray beard and long gray hair, dark green or black trench coat. Then he took off in hot pursuit and I woke up, because I actually did need to pee.

last time it rained

It's been an interesting morning so far, and it's all in my head. I started thinking about the almost limitless possibilities of where to do my PhD and how I should really get cracking on talking to people about that. I looked at about ten universities when I came in. The possibilities are astounding. And for American universities, I have to be proficient in another language relating to my field of study, which means I need to brush up on my French. Anyone know some good refresher courses?

There was also this moment, about five minutes ago, when Wayner was explaining to me in great, repetitive detail, how to stamp his address on some new books he's got, where I came to the realization (but which I've known all along) that I'm so much better than this job. It's such an insult to my intelligence and my better judgment. Why am I still here?

In other news, Andy and I are going camping for the last time this season tomorrow. Which means we're going to miss all of you who are leaving this weekend. I won't be able to see you before you go, so have a safe trip, keep in touch, and have a fantastic term. I will see you when I see you!