Sometimes I have thoughts. As I was sitting in my English class the other day, not listening to my prof repeat verbatim the same announcements that she gave the previous three classes, I wrote some of them down:
- Russian is my favourite language (well, a close second to English, anyway). Those “romantic” languages that everyone else goes wild over - French, Italian, Spanish - are not particularly pleasing to my ear. They all sound like whoever is repeating them is just trying to woo the listener back to their hotel room; or, at least, that’s what I imagine they’re saying. Russian and other Eastern European languages have this lilt to them that sort of sound like the speaker is chewing bubble gum and their tongue got caught in the wad they were gnawing on while trying to ask the grizzled postal worker the price of stamps. It sounds like the pleasant glob noise that honey and other sticky viscous substances make when they hit the inside of a ceramic bowl. *dreamy sigh*
- I like a lot about Vancouver, but I absolutely abhor this humidity. It is murdering my hair. Whenever I do my hair in the morning, I am always satisfied until I step out of my building and walk to class. By the time I get there, I have this ridiculous wave on the left side of my head and my bangs are plastered to my forehead. This is not the way to attract a tall blond British boy who speaks Russian fluently.
- I really like YouTube users, those who make vlogs, but this concept of YouTube “celebrities” is such an odd phenomenon. I spent most of my tweets on Twitter begging a certain video blogger - or “vlogger” for the unfamiliar - Wheezy Waiter to mention me in his videos. My attempts have been in vain, despite the help from another faithful Nerdfighter Wheels in promoting my quest on Twitter. But why do I care? This is just some guy sitting in his apartment making videos about handstands, alligator pits in his apartment, putting on wigs and loving coffee when it’s done. It’s completely nonsensical, and perhaps that’s why I love it. The whole vlog vehicle is an entirely unique form of self-expression, and I dig it.
- I like Starbucks’ “Pumpkin Spice” lattes better without whip.
- On the Starbucks note: why is it that lemon-cranberry scones at Starbucks have icing while no other flavour does? Are these the most unhealthy of all scones, and thus they have thrown any notion of health to the wind and poured pink syrupy happiness all over the scone to make its delicious level peak at 100%? Or, conversely, are they mega healthy and they’ve decided to tone down their goodness by adding a layer of pure sugar to the top? Things we’ll never know. While we’re on the topic of scones, though, I’ve decided that Starbucks scones are sub-par. They are far too cakey in their texture. Clearly the head chef at Starbucks has never tasted a real scone and noted the crumbly, almost puff-pasty without all the buttery-ness-like texture. Someone needs to make him/her a good ol’ Newfie tea-bun, to show them how a scone should really react when bitten into: crumble every so slighty and make you desperate for a sip of coffee/tea before all the moisture is sucked from your mouth trying to chew it.
Today I finally made it to church - first service I attended in Vancouver! I went to a United church not far from school. The people were incredibly friendly and they made me sign the guest book, wear a name-tag, and everyone shook my hand. The average age of the congregation was somewhere around 65 years old, and their big event of the week was the knitting club. The woman sitting in front of me invited me to come and offered to teach me how to knit. Some sweet.
The service was nice, albeit different from what I’m used to. I had no idea what this “Passing of the Peace” was, and everyone stood up and walked around - I mean, no one was even remotely near their original seat. Choir members were out in the porch, passing peace to people on the street. I sat in my seat, smiling and watching, and everyone who shook my hand said “Peace be with you!” and I had no idea what to say in return. I smiled, nodded, and mumbled something like “Peace in the middle east” or “peace love soccer,” or just simply “thank you!” The congregation looked something like this:
Anyway, the pastor was lovely and she had a very nice sermon, and she welcomed me back next week. I’m glad I finally got to a place of worship, but I think next week I’m going to try out the good old Army in Burnaby, mostly so I don’t have to pass the peace anymore.
I just finished reading Stieg Larsson’s The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. While the story itself is shocking and grotesque at times, it’s clearly a well-written mystery novel. Even at 2:00am when I was exhausted and my eyes were shutting of their own accord, and I was scared out of my wits at the story, I had to keep reading. That Larsson knows how to spin a yarn, I tell you. Not sure if I'll continue on with the trilogy, as I have Simon Kuper and Stefan Szymanski's gem Soccernomics: Why England loses, why Germany and Brazil win, and why the U.S., Japan, Australia, Turkey - and even Iraq - are destined to become the kings of the world's most popular sport (holy long title, Batman!) waiting for me.
I’m excited that so many people are reading my blog. It’s encouraging, and it’s a great way for me to document my time here at UBC. Perhaps I’ll even use these writings for something important someday... one never knows!
Peace be with you,