"Lonely is a freedom that breathes easy"

I always have great ideas for blog entries at like 01:00 when I’m lying comfortably in bed and just on the cusp of sleep. I’m always so much funnier when I’m approaching dream-land than when I’m wide awake, oatmeal stuck to my ribs, and trying to decide which shoes are appropriate for the weather of the moment.

The past few days were sort of difficult. I’ve started watching episodes of Grey’s Anatomy (clearly I am in need of serious procrastination material if I’ve gotten over my Meredith grudge), and there was an episode that really struck me: A doctor, who had Asperger syndrome and didn’t like being touched had a massive freak out and the only way to calm her down was to hug her. She used some fancy medical jargon to explain why the body’s nervous system reacts to pressure, something about suppressing the nerves, blah blah blah. And something about that episode, that moment, made me realize how incredibly lonely I was.

I’m not a lonely person by nature. I like being with people and actively seek out companionship when I need it, but I also really appreciate sitting at home watching TV, reading a book, or cooking for one. Sometimes I need to be alone.

But I think watching that episode, I realized how I’ve been completely alone for almost two months. Obviously I see people and engage in conversation, friends and classmates and people on the bus and Starbucks employees who upsize my latte for free because they’re out of pumpkin spice flavouring. But these people aren’t familiar, comfortable, a part of my every day, and I haven’t had a prolonged interaction with anyone since September. I haven’t had human contact with a familiar, everyday person, in a long time.

I went to church in North Vancouver on Sunday, and when I saw my friend Jen and she hugged me, I almost cried. I’m not an overly affectionate person, but sometimes it’s just really nice to be hugged.

Luckily, friends are there when you need them most. On Sunday evening, I met with three friends who had all worked at MUN's Writing Centre and who've all ended up in Vancouver this fall. It was nice to be with familiar school friends, people who know the profs and other coworkers you're talking about, who've gone through the same program and work experience as you. People who know your history. I spent Tuesday evening with my fellow displaced Newfies, Jen and Shane. I went to Jen’s house where we cooked supper (with real utensils and real garlic and in a real house). Spending the evening in a home, as opposed to a residence, with friends who knew friends from home, and who could relate to everything I was feeling about being alone in a new, big city was exactly what I needed to feel rejuvenated. Plus Shane might be a bigger Gleek than me, and we had a grand time enjoying the Rocky Horror Glee show while Jen mocked our love of Britney and Sue.

I also have been a terrible student since this whole program began. I had an assignment due on Wednesday evening that I completely forgot, or didn’t even know I had to do in the first place. Luckily a classmate texted me to remind me, and luckily I already had some research done that I could quickly pull together, and luckily it’s not a massive deal, but the whole situation freaked me out about my even being in grad school.

Another classmate and I were talking during our class’ break, and I just told her everything I was feeling about grad school - how I feel like I’m sick of school and still not recovered from the burnout of 5 years in my undergrad; how I’m the youngest person in the entire school of library studies, which makes me feel like I have no life experience and thus missing out on some vital part of grad school; how I’m so unmotivated and uninspired; how I feel like my comments in classes are annoying and unhelpful; how I feel like I have no idea what’s going on most of the time.

She assured me that everyone feels lost and confused with school, that my comments are not useless, and that its normal to feel burnt out. She admitted that she also feels unmotivated sometimes, and that life experience isn’t all its cracked up to be. Talking to her really helped, but more than anything, it was nice to be able to voice all of this pent-up fear I’ve been feeling increasingly since September, and know that I wasn’t alone.

A friend sent me this video, and I think it's beautiful.

Jillz

Geek Chic: How YouTube Has Made it Cool to Be a Nerd

I’m a nerd. I’ve read Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban more than 40 times. I would rather go to a history museum - and not even a good one - than go shopping. I spend hours cataloguing my books and making sure its organized by author’s last name. I like discussing critical theory, especially Foucault and issues of power, over coffee. I watch Russian movies with English subtitles for fun, I have a T-shirt depicting Karl Marx with a lampshade on his head (A “Communist Party,” if you will), and my idea of a perfect date is a night out at Chapters. Oh, and I'm doing my Masters in Children's Literature.

My mom gets disgruntled when I acknowledge my nerdiness out loud, or when I declare that my dad is a geek. And understandably so - the word “nerd” was coined in the US in 1951, a derivation from “nut,” meaning “a stupid or crazy person” (Dictionary.com, for those who need sources). Wikipedia says this about it:

Nerd is a term that refers to a person who avidly pursues intellectual activities, technical or scientific endeavors, esoteric knowledge, or other obscure interests, rather than engaging in more social or conventional activities. It often carries a derogatory connotation or stereotype. The nerd may be awkward, shy and unattractive.Therefore, a nerd is often excluded from physical activity and considered a loner by peers, or will tend to associate with like-minded people.

But the truth is, the term “nerd” as a insult no longer holds much power. Sure there are still those who think “nerdy” is a negative adjective, but being a geek has progressively become, well, chic. And I think YouTube has a lot to do with this.

As an avid YouTuber - in the sense that I follow certain channels on a regular basis, not that I post videos - it’s becoming more and more obvious that there’s a community that’s grown out of this internet site. People who were considered “tech geeks” because they knew html and how to create websites and use new technology now have this outlet, this amazing way of communicating with the world, posting videos and talking about what interests them. And because those who watch it are nerds too, its become more and more evident that nerds exist, quite frankly, in enormous quantities around the globe.

Hank and John Green, two YouTubers who started a channel called the Vlog Brothers (www.youtube.com/vlogbrothers), have really revolutionized the term “nerd.” As a scientist and a novelist, both Greens acknowledge that they are massive nerds (Hank writes songs about anglerfish and John has a collection of first edition books about Siamese twins), and they embrace it. They love their nerdiness so much that they have created an entire community around it - Nerdfighters. (Nerdfighters are like freedom fighters, in that they fight for nerds and not against them).

What is so appealing about this nerd community - Nerdfighteria, as it were - is that it is all inclusive. In their FAQ video, John and Hank explain that if you want to be a nerdfighter, you are a nerdfighter. And that simple act of inclusion is what has made the social label that people want to be a part of.

I think my favourite thing, though, about the Nerdfighters is that it has allowed for a re-examination of what the term “nerd” actually means. In a video where John described his excitement about seeing the 6th Harry Potter movie, a level of emotion so great that he spent the minutes before it began jumping in his seat (he’s a 30-something year-old man), he said this:

“Because nerds like us are allowed to be unironically enthusiastic about stuff. We don’t have to be like ‘Oh yeah, that purse is ok,’ or like ‘Yeah, I like that band’s early stuff.’ Nerds are allowed to love stuff, like jump-up-and-down-in-the-chair-can’t-control-yourself love it. ... When people call other people nerds, mostly what they’re saying is ‘You like stuff.’ Which is just not a good insult at all, like ‘You are too enthusiastic about the miracle of human consciousness.’”

And that’s it, right there. Nerdiness is being excited about the small stuff. You can notice the similarities between John’s definition and Wikipedia’s definition, except Wikipedia fails to recognize how awesome it is to care about stuff. Being a nerd, getting passionate about video games or dead poets or playing the ukelele, is living life to the fullest while you still have it.

YouTube has allowed people from across the globe to connect. What’s so amazing is that people who before felt marginalized by the fact that they, essentially, felt passionate about stuff now have a place to connect, to create dialogue, and to realize that being a nerd isn’t such a bad thing, after all.

Jillz, Nerdfighter

Today I Wear Purple

I’m sure most people have heard about the recent suicides of Tyler Clementi and other LGBT teenagers in the United States. Tyler was outed as being gay on the internet in a graphic way by his friend at university. He committed suicide shortly after.

There have been several suicides of LGBT teens reported in the news over the past few months. Each had been bullied, abused, and tormented for their sexuality, actions, and mannerisms. 

The It Gets Better Project (www.itgetsbetterproject.com) has been working with actors, musicians, journalists, and people who have survived bullying in high school to promote the news that “It Gets Better.” Bullying and abuse from peers is rampant in high school, but there is life after high school, and you will survive and thrive.

Today, 20 October 2010, I, along with thousands of others, wear purple to commemorate the lives of those who felt hopeless, marginalized, and estranged because of their sexuality and saw no other way out. I wore purple to show that this is not OK.

It is not OK that teens, and people of any age, are made to feel that their sexuality renders them inferior. It is not OK that they are bullied and abused, verbally and physically. It is not OK that Christians and churches are promoting the belief that being a homosexual means being shunned and marginalized. It is not OK that schools, churches, and people everywhere are rigorously condemning homosexuality instead of the hurtful actions that leave real dialogue impossible - gossip, verbal abuse, and distrust.

Today I wear purple because I don’t want to hear of any more teen suicides. I wear purple because we are all equal, and it’s time to start acting like it.

The NHL: A Love Story

Several cool and unexpected things happened to me this week: I sat next to a woman on the bus who turned out to be from Newfoundland and used to work with my aunt; I went to a super fancy (and delicious) free breakfast with my classmates and got to meet Canadian author/illustrator Pierre Pratt, who signed a book for me and was absolutely delightful; and I had to get my glasses fixed and I met a lovely optician and a friendly woman from New Brunswick who asked me to dog sit for her while she’s in the States. It was an alright weekend, all ‘round.

Most importantly, though, I saw my first NHL game yesterday: Canucks v. Hurricanes. You must all know by now that I am a self-proclaimed useless hockey fan. I would cheer for the Habs, but only because my Dad does. I know nothing about NHL players, except Sidney Crosby is a good player and he’s beautiful, and Wayne Gretzky is a super hero. People over the years have tried to teach me the rules of the game, the scoring, and about the players, but I haven’t been able to catch on.

But there’s something about having a “home team.” Living in a place where everyone supports the same team, because there’re the local heros and attending live games is much simpler than having to travel hundreds of kilometres to see an NHL game, makes hockey much more appealing. Also, Michelle has been bombarding me with information about particular players, strategies, and history. She’s chosen a “favourite” player for me, and for some reason, that makes a difference.

So seeing the Canucks game was freaking awesome. Seriously. We were sitting by friendly people, and the crowd was great. Plus, the Canucks played amazingly!! It was such a great game! And I found myself actually caring about what was happening. Michelle provided running commentary and I boo’d and cheered along with everyone else. I was hoarse from screaming by the end. When the Canucks scored their 5th goal, Michelle and I hugged! So much excitement! We also bought commemorative cups and a popcorn bucket, like real fans.

I think it’s safe to say that the Canucks game was probably my favourite BC adventure so far.

In other news, I’ve been reading Simon Kuper & Stefan Szymanski’s Soccernomics. It’s a pretty good read. It’s not a perfect book, and there are some obvious errors in both argument and writing, but I really like how it uses economics and statistics to explain fandom, transfers, and the history of why teams win. It’s also teaching me more about the Premier League and soccer history in general.

My favourite part of the book is the 2nd chapter, where they outline the cyclical nature of England’s belief about their national team and the World Cup. It’s hilarious and, if you’ve  ever followed The Guardian’s reporting on the national team, true.

Phase 1: Pretournament - certainty that England will win the World Cup.

Phase 2: During the tournament England meets a former war-time enemy.

Phase 3: The English conclude that the game turned on one freakish piece of bad luck that could only happen to them.

Phase 4: Moreover, everyone else cheated.

Phase 5: England is knocked out without getting anywhere near lifting the cup.

Phase 6: The day after elimination, normal life resumes.

Phase 7: A scapegoat is found.

Phase 8: England enters the next World Cup thinking it will win it.

What I realized last night was that these phases could also apply to Toronto Maple Leafs fans in relation to the Stanley Cup.

Phase 1: Regular season - certainty that the Leafs will win the Stanley Cup.

Phase 2: During the season, the Leafs meet an “enemy” team - normally the Habs.

Phase 3: The Leafs conclude that the game turned on one freakish piece of bad luck that could only happen to them.

Phase 4: Moreover, everyone else cheated.

Phase 5: The Leafs are knocked out before the playoffs without getting anywhere near lifting the Stanley Cup.

Phase 6: The day after elimination, normal life resumes.

Phase 7: A scapegoat is found.

Phase 8: the Leafs enter the next season thinking that, this year, they will win.

Yes?

Jillz

Frustration, or Why MUN is Better Than UBC

Now that I’ve been here for about a month and a half, I have realized that there are a bunch of things that are annoying about life in a big city and life at a big university. Obviously there are lots of great things about Vancouver and UBC, but there are plenty of things that make me frustrated, angry, and upset.

Today was a prime example of everything I don’t like about a big university colliding into one gigantic collage of irritating. I had an assignment due for my class this evening, and I needed to verify how to properly cite newspaper articles. I know I can access the MLA guide online, but I’m super old school (learned it all from Ginny) and I like using the MLA Handbook. Anyway, I figured I’d stop by the Writing Centre (WC) on my way to print my paper off, because at MUN the WC has reference books that anyone can stop in and glance through. I, perhaps naively, presumed the WC here would be the same.

This was not to be so. When I went in, there were several offices, none of which looked Writing Centre-like. I asked a very unhappy looking woman sitting behind a desk if they had any reference books I could access, and she directed me to the second floor, where the tutors live. However, accessing the second floor required going outside and walking up stairs that seriously reminded me of something that you’d see connecting tree houses. Also, she didn’t mean the second floor; she meant the third. The second floor ended up being a long empty hallway with a few closed doors with odd signs on them. Some warned of explosive material, other simply said “KEEP OUT!” like they really meant it.

Once I realized that this was clearly floor 1.5, I went back outside and up the final Peter Pan-esque stairwell to the real WC. There wasn’t a tutor in sight; all I saw was a long gray hallway with office doors half opened. I then found a piece of paper that listed all the tutors and their phone numbers, and instructed tutees to contact each tutor individually to find out their rates for tutoring. I may not have the story entirely right here, but I surmised that tutors charge tutees for their services. This I don’t like.

Anyway, with no success at the WC, I headed to the library to find an MLA guide. The entrance to the main library on campus is confusing, because when you walk in, all you see is the circulation desk on the left and a smattering of computers on the right. I figured I could search for the location of the reference section on the computer, but the first two I tried didn’t have internet access. They merely presented me with a blank screen. For a minute I wondered if these were not computers at all but fake computers used to give the illusion of helpfulness. Finally, though, I found the internet and that there was, indeed, an MLA Handbook in the library.

The confusing thing about this particular library is that the main entrance is on the 3rd floor. If you don’t register this fact, then it makes finding the 2nd floor very difficult. When I at last found the 2nd floor and the reference section, I asked the librarian where to find this blessed MLA guide. He was friendly and quickly found it for me, but he handed me the 6th edition when there was clearly a 7th right next to it. I politely thanked him, but then added “I need the 7th edition.” He looked at me for a moment and said, “Well now you’re just being picky!” and snarkily passed me the other copy.

Newspaper citation finally taken care of, I headed to SLAIS to print off my paper. I hadn’t printed anything yet, so I was hoping that the IT assistant would be in her office to tell me how to go about it. Luckily I ran into her just as she was leaving, and I asked her how printing could be made possible. She told me that I had to purchase a print card, which annoyed me slightly, as your student card at MUN also functions as your print card and doesn’t require spending more money. I was told that I had to buy a specific card for the Faculty of Arts, and it could only be purchased at a different building. Once I bought the card, putting money on it to use for printing would cost me extra.

So off I went in search of this mysterious Arts print card. I found the right building and floor, but when I found the card machine, a little electronic notice informed me that “This machine does not dispense cards.” Sighing heavily, I asked a kind woman who worked at the Arts advisory desk if there was anywhere else I could get a card. She directed me to another building in the same block, but because of construction I had to walk indoors through a complicated maze of hallways and skywalks to get to the correct building. After walking up and down four staircases, several dead ends, and almost walking into a classroom, I found the card machine. As I exited the building, card safely stored in my wallet, I discovered that the kind lady had completely sent me on a complicated and crazy path for no reason, as the door from her department faced the door from where I was standing.

After printing my paper (which costs 10 cents a page, unlike MUN’s 5), I had to go to the bookstore to buy envelops. I got there and was greeted by people with walkie-talkies, lights, cameras, catering vans and dressing room trailers. When I walked in I saw a fake check-out set up right by the door with a sign that said “This is not a real cash!” As the cashier was ringing in my envelopes, I asked her what was going on. She told me that they were filming a TV show - I instantly hoped it was GLEE - and she was completely unhappy with it. I have never heard of the show, and I can’t even remember the name, but there were so many people hanging around, clearly trying to be seen on camera, that I barely made it out of the bookstore with my envelopes in tact.

Anyway, a day like today makes me miss the comforts of MUN. However, I did find this at the bookstore

which made my day slightly better.

I miss home a lot this week. Especially after a day like today. I’m going to see a movie by myself tomorrow, like I used to do on Fridays when I saw movies to review for The Muse, to lift my spirits.

Avec l’amour

Jillz

There's So Much to Be Thankful For

Happy Thanksgiving! I never really know if Thanksgiving is celebrated on the Sunday or Monday; my family usually eats turkey dinner on Sunday, but we have a holiday on Monday. 

Anyway, I’ve been feeling homesick the past few days. It seems silly because Thanksgiving is usually just another turkey dinner, except we go around and say what we’re thankful for. And there’s pie at the end. And usually the majority of my friends are away for YC or gone home for the break from MUN. But I realized that this will be my first holiday away from home like, ever. Except Canada Days spent at camp, but I’ve never been too broken up about that.

So in the spirit of this weekend, I thought I’d make a list I of things that I am thankful for:

• I am thankful for my parents and their kindness, generosity, and truly unconditional love, even when I’ve been a nightmare to deal with; for their support in the decisions I’ve made in life and trusting that I will make wise choices in moments of uncertainty.
• I am thankful for my sister and for the happiness she has found in marrying the love of her life.
• I am thankful for Gavin and that I finally have a big brother! And that he is a business man and good with money so that he and Kayla can support me when I have three degrees but no job. And that he’ll do it because he’s a kind soul.
• I am thankful for my family - cousins and aunts and uncles and friends who have been a part of my life for so long that they feel like family. Even though they’re all a bit nuts, they love me a lot, and that’s more than I deserve.
• I am thankful for my church family at the Temple. They are supportive, encouraging, thoughtful, wise, and fun. Pretty much a winning combination.
• I am thankful for my friends. Friends are family that you choose, and I feel like if my friends could be blood relatives, I’d make them. In trying to describe how much I love my friends, words escape me. They’re all brilliant, funny, smart, ambitious, ridiculous, and the most amazing people I know. I’m missing them like crazy right now.
• I am thankful for friends who stand in for my family when they are 7000km away and opened up their home to make my Thanksgiving dinner delicious and memorable. 
• I am thankful for oatmeal and yogurt and orange juice and bananas and strawberries. They make my morning feel wholesome and nutritious.
• I am thankful for Glee.
• I am thankful that I won a SSHRC application, and for all the help I received working on and perfecting it. I am thankful that it allowed me to be able to do something scary and exciting at this moment in my life.
• I am thankful that my friend Ashley is going to be able to study in Harlow, and that she can have the amazing experience of studying abroad.
• I am thankful for books. I am thankful that I am able to spend another two years reading them and then get a degree for it.
• I am thankful for iTunes and the music that I have. It makes me very happy.
• I am thankful for PhotoBooth because it brings people together.
• I am thankful for cheese buns from Cobs Bread.
• I am thankful for the technology that allows me to be across the entire country and still able to communicate with the people I love at lightening speed.
• I am thankful for a Creator who has saved me from my guilt by his amazing grace.

Jillz

And even though this world needs so much more,

There’s so much to be thankful for

Love, or Something Like It

I don’t write about love very much.

Most of my poetry or short stories don’t centre about love. I’ve written about the aftermath of love, about the loneliness of a love lost, but never about the act of falling in love, or the moment of being in it.

This could be for any number of reasons, but I think there might be two in particular: 1. I think it’s really cheesy, and 2. I’ve never been in love.

Let’s tackle the first: Nothing bothers me more than watching a really interesting film or reading a great book with a complex and intense plot, lots of action and a really well crafted narrative and then, all of a sudden, a romance is thrown in. It doesn’t add anything to the story, it isn’t necessary to the completion of the plot, but the author/screenwriter thought it would be a good time to toss in a bit of kissing and a few long, lingering looks to amp up the sap level. Gross. A last-minute romance usually completely undermines an otherwise interesting story.

Don’t get me wrong: I love a dramatic romance as much as the next weepy sod and I will cry appropriately and heartily, but it drives me insane when that becomes an element when its not needed. For example: when I started reading Dave Eggers’ You Shall Know Our Velocity!, I was fairly intrigued. Unique plot, good writing, sympathetic characters. Then, all of a sudden and completely randomly, one of the guys starts talking about this relationship he has with a girl he meets on the beach. It’s not even an interesting relationship, but it becomes central to his writing. And it has nothing to do with the rest of his story. Urrrrgh. That ruined the entire book for me.

Second: I’ve never personally felt the effects of “being in love.” Of course, I’ve had experiences where I cared very deeply for someone, and I’ve also experienced heartbreak. Good books and movies, particularly articulate people, and acts of love I’ve witnessed have evoked within me a sense of what being in love must feel like, but I can’t say I have a personal well to draw from.

I think all good writing is based in truth from somewhere; good authors write about what they know. If I were to suddenly start gushing about the perfect relationship with a significant other, it would all be fluff and recycled ideas from other people. And that, my friends, is no way to create an original idea. Or, at the very least, one that is genuine.

In other news:

Today marks the last day in my project to blog every day for a full week. I’m going to still try to write as much as possible, for my own sake, because I feel like this has been a good outlet for me. I’m getting back into writing.. or maybe getting into it for the first time. In any case, I’ve started a few short stories and I want to start seriously working on a portfolio so I can maybe have a career, eventually. 

The tragedy of an Arts degree... now there’s something I can write about

Jillz

Post the Thirteenth - The Impossibility of District 12

"One book down - one bazillion to go!"

This is going to be a short post today. I've decided to finally pretend I'm in school and get some work done. However, I absolutely had to post about the book I've just finished reading: Suzanne Collins' The Hunger Games.

I picked this book up because everyone in my program has been talking about it. Also, all of my favourite vloggers on YouTube often talk about how great the series is, so I really had to get in the loop. This book is the first in the Hunger Games trilogy; the others are Catching Fire and Mockingjay.

I was reluctant to start reading this book because I really had no idea what it was about. Essentially, I've learned, the story is about a post-apocalyptic type dystopian community that grew out of a demolished North America. There are 12 Districts, and every year the Capitol holds the Hunger Games, where two young people, a male and a female, from each district compete.

These games are not your average tournament: it's a literal fight to the death. In remembrance of an uprising in the past, which resulted in the thirteenth district being obliterated, the Capitol pits youth against each other and the last person alive wins. In the districts with more money and where competing is an honour, people volunteer to be the representative from their community. In District 12, where they are starving, the names are chosen, and the competitors rarely make it out alive. Naturally, the story follows the lives of Katniss and Peeta, the two representatives from District 12, and their attempt to survive the impossible.

This book is seriously good. The story is well established at the beginning. It's well written; clearly a young adult novel but definitely some great prose. It's not too gory, but also keeps you on the edge of the page, wanting to read faster so you know what happens.

I now have to put off reading the next two so I can get some school work done, but I will devour these books (get it? Hunger Games? Devour? ha!) as soon as I get a chance.

My thought for today? Read more books. It's good for you.

Jillz

Post the Twelfth - The Myth of Knowing Everything: Disbanded

Today is a day to be marked in history: I saw my first ever NHL players skating on home ice. Granted, they were not the Canadiens, but I think we can all agree that the Canucks are an alright team all ‘round. Michelle had gotten tickets to see the Canucks’ open practice this afternoon. She had a few extras, so Jen, Mirranda, and Cameron joined us, accompanied by Dave and Shayan. Such was my excitement for the event that I bought a Canucks t-shirt yesterday in preparation for seeing them today - the first NHL item I’ve ever owned. 

Even though it wasn’t a game and the team were just running drills and the stadium wasn’t filled, I still had a great time. Michelle has picked up where Laura left off years ago in trying to make me interested in the game, and I think this might be my year. It’s totally different cheering for a “home team” when you’re actually living in the city that has it’s own NHL team. It’s the wonder of professional sports: the population rallies behind this group of strangers who get paid to play a sport they love, and their performance basically dictates the level of happiness of the fans. What I love about sports, though, is how it brings people together from the strangest of places and bonds them through their mutual love of the game.

After the practice, we all went to see if we could get pictures with the Canucks as they left the stadium. We weren’t successful, but Michelle says we’ll have more luck when we go to the game on October 17th. That’s right - I’m going to see the Canucks v. the Hurricanes! My first NHL game! I’m super stoked. Michelle has already picked out a favourite player for me, and I already care more about hockey than I ever have. Hopefully I’ll get an autograph and a picture with Christian Ehrhoff (my favourite player). EEE SPORTS!!

In other news, it’s interesting living with girls from different places and cultures. I’ve been struggling for the past few years with the idea of multiculturalism and wondering if it can ever actually exist. Spending time talking with my room mates has definitely given me a much greater perspective on the issue, and has made me question, yet again, what it means to be “right.” 

One of my Chinese room mates, Joey, and I ate lunch together yesterday. Joey and I often have really interesting conversations, and we share our food from across cultures; she eats pizza with chopsticks and I stab chicken balls with forks. Yesterday our discussion turned to literature, and Joey said her favourite English novel is Charles Dickinson's Hard Times, because it was the first time she had seen revolution portrayed negatively. We also talked about travel and language and countries that interest us. Joey asked me why I liked Russia so much, and I told her I was drawn to their absolute tragic history. Then she asked me: “Why do you think it’s tragic?” 

And it was simultaneously obvious and completely baffling why I would call Russia’s past “tragic.” I’ve been taught since I was old enough to know what politics was that the Russian communist government was “bad” and didn’t work. Logically, I still know this to be true, because I believe the tyrannical regime of Stalin is the definition of horrifying, but perhaps there are other ways of examining history that have not been in my educational repertoire. Perhaps I should not be so arrogant to assume that my Western education, my Western culture, is  something that should be adapted and adhered to by others. Maybe there’s enough room for all of us here.

Jillz

Post the Eleventh - Death by Cycling

Bit of a late post today, but I was out and about all afternoon, and this is the first chance I’ve had to write. I made a commitment to write every day for seven days, and I cannot betray my homage to Wheezy!

Today I met Michelle and we planned to rent bikes and cycle around Stanley Park. Dad wanted to do this when he was here, but I bailed at the last minute because I freaked about my ability to ride a bike. I wanted to try and overcome this fear, however, and decided that I wouldn’t hurt to at least give it a go. I mean, I rode a bike when I was younger (albeit poorly), and I ride bikes a the gym all the time, so I couldn’t be that bad, right?

*Sigh*

Michelle bikes around Vancouver often, so this was nothing new to her; but as I donned by helmet, I knew the worst was awaiting. I was a bit shakey at first, it being, oh, 13 years since I last rode a bike. But the longer we rode, the worse I became! I couldn’t steer and I almost crashed into Michelle at one point. What made it worse was that the day was so beautiful and perfect for a stroll in the park that everyone and their dog (literally) decided to cycle around Stanley Park today. People were yelling “Excuse me!” and ringing their pretentious little bike bells as they whizzed past, taking photographs and eating pie. And I struggled forward, grasping the handlebars for dear life, sweat trickling down my face from a combo of heat and fear.

At one point, the narrow bike path merges and becomes a joint pedestrian and cyclist path, just as it rounds the bend of a grassy cliff running alongside the water. Such was my terror of falling down the hill and into the Vancouver harbour that my hands were shaking uncontrollably. Like, really. I am a piece of work.

Thankfully Michelle is a saint and let us walk the bikes back to the rental place. We took advantage of the rest of the afternoon and strolled around Robson Street, hunting for celebrities and athletes. No luck today, but we’ll keep trying.

ANYWAY: I realized that I’ve yet to pass judgement in written word about the new season of Glee! I’ve been listening to “Billionaire” and “Stronger” all day (no joke - something like 20 plays each on my iPod). So here are my thoughts:

The first episode lacked any solid plot, or even theme of songs, except maybe “songs that the general public really likes so we’ll cover them on the show to appeal to North America at large.” And that’s a stupid theme. But I still really loved the covers, and I really like the new kids, Sam and Sunny. I hope they come back in future episodes. The second episode was a bit better, plot-wise, but still an insane stretch. But that’s the norm for Glee anyway. I liked that the background characters, Brittany and Santana, got their time to shine. Also died over Artie singing “Stronger.” And I laughed out loud a lot throughout the entire episode. My verdict? Glee is back on track!

I must go separate my laundry, pre-washing, now, but I have to send virtual congratulations to my friend Jessica Whelan who became Mrs. Thomas Cann today! Yay love!

Jillz

Post the Tenth - The Project Continuum

Yesterday I posted a picture of the fountain outside of Marine Drive. It looked like this:

Today, however, as I walked past on the way to class, it looked like this:

Another student and I from my building chatted about it for a while as I was taking pictures. We suspect somebody threw suds in there as a prank. I, personally, think it's hilarious, while my cohort thought it was insensitive. We thus parted ways (metaphorically at least; we continued walking in the same direction up to our respective apartments, which are, awkwardly, across the hall from each other).

Even though I have no set plan for blogging today and nothing to talk about in particular, I promised myself I would do it. And so I am.

A friend from my program and I went out to supper after class last night. I find my eating schedule is very wonky here, especially on the days when I don't have day classes. Our class was over at 21:00, and because we had both not eaten supper, we decided to try out the Marine Drive Residence restaurant, the Point Grill. We both had salads, which were amazing, and it was really nice to experience getting to know somebody in a completely unadulterated way.

What I mean is: usually I meet people through other people - work, church, school, volunteering, etc. Friends of friends become my friends. As I'm meeting people here, all we have in common is circumstance, so it is really luck of the draw whether you meet someone who you'll like after a few conversations. Thea and I had some really great conversation, and it felt so good to talk honestly with someone and not feel the need to put on the usual adornments with which one decorates their conversation when first meeting someone.

I like the people in my program. There's only six of us beginning this year, but everyone has the same passion for reading and for child lit, and when we get a dialogue about images or authors or themes going, it reminds me why I love academia.

A demain,
Jillz