The situation:
Angus and Jen dated for SEVEN years. In the last year, they moved in together, with Daryl and Mel. Daryl and Jen didn't get along. Supposedly.
This summer, Angus, Jen, and Daryl were supposed to come camping with the rest of us - Me, Pie, Matt, Greg, Stefan, Heather, and Travis. In the end, only Angus came. Daryl said he "couldn't handle" being with us 24/7 for three whole days. Jen made some other excuse. Camping was awesome.
Angus and Jen broke up at the end of the summer because Jen moved back to Nova Scotia to do her MA. They split on good terms, but Angus was really upset by the whole thing.
It comes out that Daryl sent Jen flowers in Nova Scotia. As a "housewarming gift."
It ALSO comes out that, when we were camping, Jen supposedly got really upset one night. Daryl comforted her, and she ended up sleeping in his bed. Nothing, apparently, happened.
Angus calls Daryl out on both of these events. Daryl convinces Angus that he is paranoid and has Angus feeling guilty for being suspicious.
Angus confides this in the rest of us before his brain explodes. We tell him that, no, he is not crazy, and yes, he has every right to be pissed off.
THEN it comes out that Daryl is planning to move to Nova Scotia. To find a job. Because apparently there are lots of jobs in Nova Scotia. Which is bullshit. And he's not moving there for Jen. Which is also bullshit.
We speculate. Say mean things. Reassure Angus that he has every right to be a Doubting Thomas.
And now Daryl and Jen are officially dating long distance.
So let's establish that, not only did Daryl commit the cardinal sin of moving in on his friend's ex long-term girlfriend WITHOUT HIS KNOWLEDGE OR CONSENT, but he LIED HIS ASS OFF ABOUT IT, and, even worse, MADE ANGUS FEEL THAT IT WAS HE WHO WAS IN THE WRONG.
Jen's response to Angus when called out about this? "It's none of your business."
Bullshit.
If Angus and Jen had dated for like two months and it didn't work out, then fine, you can date other people in the circle of friends. It's awkward for a while, but whatever. But SEVEN FUCKING YEARS and you practically CHEAT? And then LIE? And MANIPULATE?
Fuck you both. You've lost the trust and respect of ALL of us. Way to alienate everyone you know.
Oh yeah, and the best part is that Travis is Daryl's cousin, and Stefan is Jen's cousin, and both boys are going to inform the families of the situation. So now everyone will know what deceitful pieces of shit they are.
Finally, I go home today and I don't have to go anywhere else any time soon.
Calgary is . . . well, it's a nice-looking city. The population is more dense than in Ottawa, but the city itself feels much smaller. There's not really a "greater" Calgary - just a sprawl with no real organization.
It's a busy city - construction everywhere, people rushing to and fro, things going on all the time . . . it's like Toronto that way, but the people are nicer. It's just very intense here - a little too intense for my liking.
And the traffic!
Most people seem to drive huge pickups and Hummers - I've seen more white Hummers in this city in two days than I have watching Ray Emery drive around town in three years. Nobody speeds here because of a radar monitoring system, but staying under the speed limit seems to entitle the drivers to do whatever they want. The Calgarians in their massive trucks make me and Dad and our Dodge Charger look tiny. Yesterday, driving downtown, we were cut off by a cement truck. Let's establish first that we were stopped in traffic when it happened, with no space either in front or behind us when this happened. It was a slow and terrifying process . . .
Anyway, we're going to get ourselves some breakfast (despite the time it says I posted this, it's still dark outside and only half past 8 in the morning) and do some last-day exploring.
See you at midnight. And then to work at 930 the next morning. And 830 the day after that.
Today I had all my meetings at U of C.
And they didn't exactly go as expected, not through any fault of my own or that of the people I was interviewing.
Thing is (and this is really dumb), U of C only really likes accepting people into the graduate program that have been shaped through their undergraduate program. So yes, this means that there is no likelihood of Calgary expanding its department or branching out at all - it's basically just incest and incest in university circles is not a good idea.
The crux of it is that, not only am I coming from another school, I'm coming from another discipline, so the chances of me getting in and doing well are minimal. There is just way too much bureaucratic red tape standing in my way. If I want to struggle for it for a year or two, I can probably get in, but Calgary's graduate department is simply not good enough for me to want it that badly, despite my perfect match with the professors here. There is simply no sense in me wasting another year.
But the guy I met, K.Y., was surprisingly helpful. He gave me some names of people to approach at UAB, SFU, Waterloo, and, yes, even U of O. I'm also not ruling out the possibility of doing Kinesiology at MAC. Apparently, picking a program that is built on an interdisciplinary basis, like Kin, Communications, Media Studies, Women's Studies, etc., will up my chances of being accepted, because people in those departments are from all other places as well.
I think when I get home I'm going to have to take a substantial amount of time and think of what I want to do next. I will check on my deadlines for January 2009 admission and see if I can find out my admittance status from where I applied before I have to submit new applications.
Right now, it looks like Memorial is my best chance . . .
Stay tuned.
Just went to the Keg - boring I know, but at least it wasn't Wendy's. We also didn't want to try to negotiate the City Centre at night when we had just gotten here. Tomorrow we will attempt to consume more regional fare.
So the flight here was remarkably uneventful, save for about twenty minutes of turbulence. We even landed when it was still light out, so I could check out the landscape (it's flat and rocky at the same time, and every single road is straight).
People here seem nice - nicer than Hamilton, at least. But anywhere near Toronto and you have to deal with that kind of people. It's not a Maritime atmosphere here, but it seems welcoming. Very glitzy. Very wealthy - money is practically oozing out of the soil - oh wait that's oil . . .
All my meetings are set for tomorrow. I see A.S., former head of the anthro department, at 11, then a quick pow-wow with P.S., grad co-ordinator, at noon. I may have an hour or so to catch my breath and a bite to eat and then I meet my prospective supervisor, K.Y., at 130. I have to remember to pass on some disregards from P.W. from yesterday (the two have worked together for nigh fifteen years - they just put out a new book).
This leaves us with all of Thursday to explore the city. Our flight isn't until 545, so we have plenty of time - some time tomorrow, too, of course.
I have taken a few pictures, but they're twilight ones and they're almost all blurry. I'll try to get some better ones for tomorrow.
Stay tuned . . .
I'll be glad when this week is over - traveling constantly is not my cup of tea.
Speaking of tea, I've drunk so much in the past week I feel steeped.
Let's recap:
Thursday night I got back from St. John's. It was a relatively uneventful flight, save that we received news my grandmother was in the hospital with pneumonia.
Friday I worked, and then went to the Bark & Fitz Staff Christmas Party, which was held at the Irish Village. Amanda and Dani and I made plans to do more drinking at a future date when the boss wasn't around.
Saturday I worked again. Lah-di-dah.
Sunday I cajoled my father into letting me sleep in and then we headed out to visit my grandmother at the hospital before trucking on to Hamilton.
The weather driving on the 401 was the pits, as was to be expected, but we made good time. The concierge at the hotel was rude and unhelpful, so I had no internet, but I survived.
Hamilton was, well, HAMILTON. Parts of it are super nice but those parts are beyond my financial means. If I were to make it into MAC (which, at this point, is unlikely), I would live in the town of Dundas, which is five minutes from the university and is its own autonomous village. There's also a Bark and Fitz opening there - bonus for me.
I really liked P.W., the guy I met there in the kinesiology department. I think he and I would be well-suited to each other. In fact, if I don't get in anywhere as an anthropologist, I might just apply again right away as a kinesiologist. I'm sure I could do it.
Photos to follow. I have to head to the airport in an hour.
So I'm back in Ottawa until Sunday, when I head to Hamilton.
My two meetings yesterday seemed to go really well. I even met the head of the department and one of the students, as well as got a bit of a tour of campus.
When I was talking to the graduate coordinator, he told me that most people at the PhD level look at the project, not really the grades, so hopefully that B+ I have will not hurt me at all. He also told me that they have to make all their decisions for February 28, because that's the scholarship deadline. So if I email one of the guys I met in early March, I can find out ahead of time if I get in or not. It won't be that awesome if I don't get in, but if I do, then I have an extra two months to decide what *we* want to do and make arrangements for moving.
After that, Dad and I actually made it up to Cape Spear. Newfoundland got the tail end of that crazy windstorm that hit Eastern Ontario, so standing on the top of an icy cliff 200m above the ocean on a windy day perhaps wasn't the best idea, but it was worth it. If you like the colour gray, Newfoundland is a great place to be.
We went for lunch at Velma's, which serves traditional Newfie food. Dad got pan-fried cod with a sprinkling of canned vegetables and a crapload of fries, and I got what is known as Fish and Brewis (pronounced "brewz"). To prepare it - and this was explained to me by Catharine the bartender - you soak a salt cod overnight. You also soak some hardtack (a ridiculous dense loaf of dried bread sailors have been eating for four hundred years) until it's quadrupled in size. Then you stir the two together and fry it like hash browns. Then you garnish it with cubes of struncken - fried pork fat. It's not healthy, but it was very good.
We spent an hour or so at The Rooms before we headed to the airport - St. John's' museum/art gallery/archives. The view from the windows was breathtaking.
Our flight home was not difficult, although we received news that my 98-year-old grandmother is in the hospital with some kind of serious infection. This, on the heels of my mother's brother having a severe heart attack last week, has let me know that January is not a lucky month this year.
So I might have to make my next two trips by myself.
This is my 501st post, by the way.
It was exhausting getting out of the city last night. So incredibly foggy, and flights landing in Ottawa were delayed so much that, after boarding an hour later than expected, our plane sat, fully loaded, another full hour, waiting for our pilots to come into the airport from THEIR flights.
The cool thing is that I haven't gone Air Canada in years, and they've improved. We got some cool beans Brazilian plane, and so we had our own televisions in our seats, with touch screens, and choices of 10 movies, 20 shows, 30 radio stations, and several games and kids' games. It was NEAT.
So we hit St. John's around 2:30 this morning, and, bless her, the Enterprise car lady was waiting there for us.
Chel, you'll be happy to know we are driving a piece of shit Chevy Cobalt, just as bad (if not worse) than the one you had when you stayed with us.
Dad and I got up around 930 and farted around for a bit before heading to Signal Hill, at the top of one side of the Narrows (St. John's is built in a very elongated harbour - more of a fjord, really, and the edges of the harbour are very steep, narrow, and well fortified). Dad slipped on some ice there (fuck it was cold on top of the cliff), and is a little sore, but otherwise is undamaged.
Then we piddled around in the car for a bit to familiarize me with the town before heading to the centre for my meeting on campus. During this time, Dad backed into a truck - no damage to either party - and we discovered that stop signs, street signs, turns, and pretty much all rules of road building and legal driving are optional in St. John's.
Memorial campus looks way bigger than it is, and it's even uglier than Carleton, if such a thing is possible. However, the building I would be in is in an isolated part of campus, right at the tip, overlooking Long Pond. The graduate bar is right next door. Convenient? I think so.
Had a good meeting with W.F. It seems like these guys actually have some say in who gets into the tiny department (that they seem to think is big), so it's good that I'm actually putting a face to my name. Meeting with M.T. and A.C. tomorrow.
We're going to try and hit Cape Spear tomorrow. We tried to go today, but it was snowing so hard that we hit the third mountain and had to turn back. We just couldn't make it up the hill.
After that we did a wee bit of shopping and then we went to the Crow's Nest. This is an exclusive club for officers of the Navy, and my dad and my uncle and my family friends and my great uncle and grandfather and pretty much everyone in my family has been coming to this hole since its inception.
It was a pretty cool experience. We were the only people there for the first two hours and two drinks. But we spent our time talking to Catharine, the bartender, who was from Nottingham. We talked about all kinds of things, then Bob, a retired Army guy, came in and we had another drink. The evening ended when he played us a stirring rendition of the St. Louis Blues on the piano.
We got takeout from Ches's, the best fish and chips in town, and crashed in our room, watching Lara Croft - again.
I'm just gathering enough energy to put all my pics up from today and then it's bed time, folks. Hopefully the weather will be lovely enough to leave town tomorrow. Wish me luck!
Oh, the ignomy of being grounded.
It's a foggy, foggy day here in Ottawa. Visibility is at about 50m, and the ceiling is at about, oh, say 50m. This means that, while planes can take off in zero visibility, they can't land, and Ottawa airport ran out of planes, so my flight to Toronto at 10:00 this morning, with connector to St. John's, has been cancelled.
(Yes, that means I'm still in Ottawa.)
On a side note, my father and I figured out in advance that we were going to be cancelled, and so got in line early at the help desk. We were given a 1-800 number, which we got through to on the first try, and we managed to wrangle ourselves a direct flight to St. John's leaving at 8:10 tonight. We could have gotten a flight out this afternoon, but who knows if the fog will have lifted by then? It's supposed to cool down tonight, which means hopefully the fog will dissipate.
So if all goes well I'll be landing in the New Found Land at around midnight.
Wish me luck.
a