Wednesday, November 16, 2005
  "katimavik bickering"
Oh god. You have no idea how this hit me when I saw that someone had actually googled this highly contreversial and unpleasant experience.

Say for instance, you're bickering with your mom when you're at home for the holidays: Unpleasant. Now, take fighting with your mom and put it into an enclosed space from which there is no escape for 9 months, and then multiply the number of mothers present by eleven.

Whoever looked that up...I fucking feel for you man. If you decide to look this up again, my advice is this... know the personality types of the people you live with, and learn how they clash, and make sure that there is at least one good mediator in your group. If there isn't one, make one a mediator. Because PL's are fucking crappy at this type of thing, more often than not. I mean, half the time, the only sort of "seniority" or "expertise" they hold is that they are a few years older than you, and can keep all their fucking around suppressed (which manifests itself during the duration in a variety of interesting ways)while "taking care" of you.

And as for the bickering itself....this is inevitable, but also surpassable. Try not to react to things, and go with the flow, unless your "leader" (all groups have a natural leader of sorts) is a complete dictator. THEN, shut him/her down. If they're french, give up, and be passive. LOL.

Edit: Strange thing, but I had "The Yellow Submarine" stuck in my head for the entire duration of Katimavik. I would wander around our houses and just roar it out at the top of my lungs if I was mad. It made other people a chance to laugh, and I found that by being loud and obnoxious, I felt better.

Finally...as the final cliche-> When I finished Katimavik, I thought I would write a book about it, but goddamn it, everyone else has done that already. And plus, I never felt like much "happened" that was worthy of a book. Mind you, all the other Katimavik books were drivel too. We sure had fun though<--summation.
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
  i like my neighborhood, i like my gun--drivin' my little car, i am your girl and i will protect you
So I have this obsession with a song right now by Xiu Xiu, which at best is unfathomable to everyone else I make listen to it, though I could at this point, listen to it over and over again. It just captures something in my life that I can't quite put my finger on, I've decided.

The weekend went very well, though it was somewhat busier than I would have liked it to be, which resulted in the grand total of one and a half hours being spent studying for a final that, if I fail, will result in an extra semester to take it again. That said, there is no one to blame for that but myself and my super bad planning abilities and complete apathy towards studying for shit like this.

The special needs final was a bitch to write also, with poor distractors (If I crack up in a silent lecture hall, you know you've erred in your test writing skillz you ass) and mean questions regarding self-defense from special needs students. Because obviously, they're psychotic.

"If you are bitten on the hand by a student and they do not let go, you should:

a)Gently but firmly push their nose back into their head
b)Tickle them with your free arm until they let go
c)Yell for help
d)Push your hand further into their mouth until pressing up against the jaw."

This was a real question, and the answer is D for anyone who anticipates this happening to them in the future.

But yeah, the weekend...the party went really well. I sort of "peaked" a lot sooner than others though, and was pretty tired (ie- idiot) before everyone else was, owing to a hella lot of cooking earlier that day (seafood lasagna and apple crisp).

I did get to see a very old friend of mine though in that span of time, which was really awesome. And, even better, I think he enjoyed meeting my friends and hanging out, so hopefully he'll come over more often in the future.

Friday also bears mentioning- We hung out on Whyte for a while, before heading to Vasyl's amazing house and jamming in the basement. He has this old mint organ that I got to fool around with, and by GOD, I fucking loved it. It's been so long since I have done anything musical, and I just sort of jumped right into it. And yeah, I don't think the sentiment was the same all around, but I thought that some of the stuff (some) sounded really awesome. It was so so cool. I miss muzak. On the upside, Fenton's cousin tuned my guitar, which is excellent. This weekend I'm going to start farting around on that I think.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
  picture me bloodshot

I've had a good day. Eventful couple of days actually.

What do you do in fact, when your prof first guids a sing-along-song based on "standardized tests", and then later cries in front of the class?

You get awkward and look away, like I did.

Today, I walked out of the last lecture I had. Stupid really, but I couldn't stand it. Our SN prof hates us, and today, he chose to sing songs to our class guided by this premise. Having moody melodramatic "Phantom of the Opera" songs sung to you "as symbolicism of what this class has meant to me", is fucking ridiculous. We went drinking instead after kidnapping a member of Hydrasses harem from the hydro lab.

Wednesday, November 09, 2005
  "somewhere in the asshole of my mind..."
Life has been very tumultuous lately, and the old addage of my life being somewhat operatic returned briefly a few nights ago, in regards to my trip to Alaska again. My dad in the beginning was whom I was expecting to be a terror about the whole idea, but it instead proved to be my mom who turned instantly unreasonable (contribute this to her being the one I get my stubborness from though, and this is completely understandable).

What ended up happening is that my dad had to do this whole, "well...I think you could do this if you were exceedingly careful, but I have to uhh...side with your mom because I'm uh, married to her"--which means that she hounded him to write me an email outlying every single reason that going there by myself would be a bad idea.

Naturally, it infuriated me and insulted me...but I did see his point. That said, I saw his point, but also my own point that I was trying to make too in regards to independence and autonomy kept creeping up in a red haze behind my eyes. It was extremely frustrating. So I ended up sitting down (when I should have been working on my assignment due the next morning)and writing an email in reply. Yeah, scary I know, but it was actually a very mature email, no cheap shots, no angst, just amiable and slightly aloof neutrality. The boy read it over to ensure that there was no smack talk in it, but we're sitting there, and all of a sudden,

"Babe, I agree with your dad."

It is the most confounding thing in the world to hear an admission like this. Because on one hand, I was completely frustrated that my trip up there had essentially been shut down in regards to having any support from my parents. But then I was like, "oh my god, you just agreed with my father? That is the sweetest thing in the world." BUT THEN, "Oh my god, you think I'm a defenseless female too?" And THEN, "how is this fair to you? Is it reasonable?" After that I just roared for a bit and stomped around knocking over small buildings.

But I'm also over being angry about it. It isn't worth the trouble to be angry about. Bottom line also, is once they meet him, they won't question my motives anymore, LOL. It seems just as feasible at this point for him to come down here too later in January, as it would have been for me to go up there at Christmas. Financially I mean-- gender stereotypes and general over-protectiveness aside. I think I made my dad feel pretty guilty though, because I ended up just sending an email that said, "Ok, you win. I'm not going." Snotty and immature...argh. But, that said, I'm counting on blowing his mind with my jovialness about the whole issue next time I talk to him.

"Why darling, I thought you hated my guts?"

But yeah...y'all are going to get to meet my BOY! Aren't you excited? It's YANKEE time!
Sunday, November 06, 2005
So I've gotten a job. My mom bluffed and said, "we don't have enough money that a trip is feasible", so I called it and did, essentially, the antithesis of what she would have me do. However, that said, it's not much of a job. I mean, it is, because it's my employer's livelihood, but it isn't, because I'm a cashier at the convenience store downstairs. It seems pretty straightforward so far, except since I'm a walking ball of contagion, I wasn't doing masterfully well at my first go of things this evening for "training". Training, I might add, that I'm not getting paid my $7.00 an hour for. However, I mastered the till, and the intricate way that my boss has things priced by the end of the evening. All this leaves is the closing time, cashing-out ritual, which I will master on Wednesday, hopefully being in better health by this time.

As an employee of this fantastic store, I am also assuredly protected by the stick behind the counter, as well as the butcher knife beside the cash register. Things I thought only entertained on TV, are henceforth a reality.

"AAAAIEEEE!! From Russia with love, BITCH."

Being as ear-infections are going around like a bad trend, it is also not surprising that I have one. I keep waking up with nightmares that I'm going to lose my hearing, but it seems to be getting better via the various home remedies that I've been recieving/employing. If it gets any worse than it is however, I will probably go get it checked out.

I've been swamped with mounds of teacher-esque homework to do, and all I've been thinking lately is that all my problems with classroom management will be solved with this little deal. Eh? That's what I thought.

"Johnny, could you start paying attention?"

"No! I think you're a big crack--*WHAAA ZOOOPH*!"


Discipline that is absolutely bewildering is a-ok in my books. I'm counting on them being scared to death with how the thing looks, rather than the "amazing ball of air that will ruffle your co-worker's hair" result.
Friday, November 04, 2005
  Get in touch with your inner red neck.
Today has been an interesting day. Waking up angry and confused is never a good thing, but that boat has since sailed into a happy sunset, which is a huge relief. Too many unspoken things piling up is not healthy for anyone.

I'm having a hard time with my assignments. Getting started. Showing motivation. Showing concern. All of these little things are just pushing me away from them rather than pulling me up like they might have, say, a month ago, when I wasn't embittered with the faculty. But that said, the faculty doesn't care if I'm embittered or not, and I've known that all along. Must do the work. But it's so hard to just look at it without having my eyes dry up at this point.

I have to do a self-reflective essay, ten pages, on my current teaching philosphy. And a lesson plan, and more reflection on my botched Bosch class, as well as finish this report card project.

It's so intangible- that bugs me. Everything we've done, has been incredibly hypothetical, so where do you go from that when you're talking about your current teaching philosophy, when all you have to base on that "experience-wise" is one week of sitting at the back of a classroom and just observing, though you were itching to just jump in there and take over?

Also...I keep thinking about balancing myself out. I need to be intellectually stimulated. Sometimes I need to be able to be the anti-thesis of it. It's finding the middle-ground that is proving to be difficult.

Lastly...I've realized a little of my own self-hypocrisy lately (ha...actually had it pointed out) in regards to margins of my life. I realize that they will always be there, but that I'm going to be in a fair bit of DOOM if my boyfriend doesn't get inside of that margin in my head. I am working on it though, and I am getting better. It's bad though, because I don't realize I've just been incredibly insensitive to something unaccessible to me, until it's too late and I've gone and mashed some feelings. It's just funny though, because the hypocrisy comes in that I try and make all these efforts to be knowlegeable about things that are/were "beyond me", but I do it with lean in the opposite direction of where Napoleon's experiences (in all their "foreigness") lie. It's like instead of turning right (I realize the directions are weighted with metaphorical complication, but don't pay attention to that) to find the outside of my "circumferance", I've just been going full ahead left. It's funny, because by being willing to consider what I think are "all things", I've still left out so much. Not just Napoleon's experiences, but that whole other side of the circle.

So my realization of what the problem is, is very basic. I have this idea of what "good" is, and this idea of what "bad" is, and then that gray zone is deemed "acceptable". But the problem lies in my own definitions of "good" and "bad", which is where marginality plays in.
Tuesday, November 01, 2005
Something came up about animation the other day, and the "uncanny valley", so I thought I'd share a video that a classmate showed me the other day. It's not human-based, but still eery as fuck.
  Hookers "picking out gum."
The above-mentioned title is just one of the latest search terms encountered involving my blog. I figured it was appropriate though, given today is Halloween.

Ahh Halloween...the day where scores of boys between the ages of 15 and 22 dress up as The Crow, and I run into every single one of them and laugh every time. I think (after a few highschool memories) that every Halloween harkens the birth of at least 100 Gothic people per capita.

"Oh my god, these people are totally vibing on me displaying my destroyed soul by means of wearing all black, holding my face in my hands constantly, smearing my terrible tear streaked black make up, and doing home piercings. I'M TOTALLY DOING THIS EVERY DAY."

This said, Halloween presents itself as an interesting opportunity for people to show a different facet of themselves, which I can appreciate, and I guess they do to, even though they only "go crazy" on one day a year (though, I'm told many make a weekend of it via alcohol and torn fishnets). I always find though that I over analyze the costumes that I see though, and wonder too much "why did you choose that? Like, what does it mean to you?"

Because it doesn't really mean anything most of the time. That girl went as a hooker, because she wanted male attention. That guy went as Frankenstein, because he's unoriginal. Those people, threw together hacknied costumes, so they could get free beer. You catcha my drifta?

Needless to say, I didn't have a costume this year, though I entertained throwing on my barista apron and flouncing around as Faye from Questionable Content at Second Cup. Not because I've worked there, or ever been a barista, but because I'm like that.

In other rambling and badly written news, today, is the day where we find out who will ultimately be the good teachers and the bad teachers, as the bad ones forget to bring kids who have peanut or artificial food coloring/flavouring allergies something AS cool as real candy. Like a bike, or a laptop, because really...who do they think they're kidding with those soya granola bars. You know what the translation for soya granola bars is in highschool? EXCLUDED LOSER. Bam. Instantaneous disrespect. Seriously, it's not that big of an issue, but on Halloween, I'm going to be the cool teacher who hands out toothbrushes. Ha ha.

"Hygiene first kiddies!"

I'm just kidding. This train of thought has already had far too much (thought) put into it, but for the record...I'm thinking little inedible prizes-- which for the junior high/high school crowd, will be things like pencils, erasers, flavoured condoms, or Ninja throwing stars--because these things are cool.

As for the rest of today, it's been better then yesterday, except I broke my Dad's Nikon, which is probably going to cost me some serious coin to fix, even though it's a stupid problem. The film "peg" that holds the film in (this camera is a manual bear in mind) got nudged the wrong way today, and three little pieces came off of the screw of the film "turner". A spring and two washers (one is the bracer for the canister turning handle) came off. Originally, I thought to myself, "well, that was dumb, now fix it, it's not hard." The word "dainty work" comes to my head for the first time in years while trying to explain this dilemma. I can't get the tiny washers back on over the spring while leaving enough threads to screw the handle on top back on.

THEN, I figure out that I can pull that little screw part out. And I do, many many times, but when bumped, it shoots back down like a dew worm. Finally, I rationalize to myself that if I take the film out by hand, this will make the pin-of-difficulty more accessible to fix. I go under my blankets and wind the film up, so as not to expose it. By now, I'm fairly certain I'm a genius, and try again, and watch in horror as the whole pin falls inside the camera that can now no longer be opened by any good and holy way.

So yeah...McBains, here I come.

We went for Chinese food again tonight, because we're fat like that. It was so good, but [1] I'm worried we might frequent the place too much, because it's SO GOOD, and so cheap. Two people eating for $14.00 and leaving stuffed like pigs, is pretty rad.

The night before we also went to said place, but minus roomie. Excellent food, and a small tab run up. Tempest, can you just comment on how much I owe you? Is that tacky of me to ask? I don't know.

[1] Right about here is where I realize we still have leftovers, and that I should go have some, because I'm hungry again.
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