Today, as I walked home from the subway, I was carrying the dullest shopping bag in the world. It contained three pairs of plain black cotton socks and two bottles of dandruff shampoo.
It then occurred to me that that image would be an awesome way to start a novel or a short story! In the right hands, it could be excellent characterization!
So anyone is able to use that image well, feel free to take it.
Monday, February 09, 2004
I moved to Toronto in Sept. 2000. I moved back to Hamilton for summer 2001, and then back to Toronto for good in Sept. 2001. Here are some ways in which I have become A Torontonian in that time:
1. I no longer blink at the ideas of $1000 per month rent, $100 per month transit pass, or $300 per month condo fees.
2. I find it odd when I see promotional material with all white people on it.
3. I get shocked and offended when policies are made with the assumption that everyone has a car.
4. I don't find it weird that I shop at Dominion.
5. I'm always surprised when reminded that there are places where a person can, in fact, live on minimum wage.
6. I fully expect to see local news in national newspapers.
7. I always recite phone numbers with 10 digits.
8. I only go to Tim Horton's when there isn't a Second Cup, and I haven't rolled up a rim in ages.
9. Putting a sweater and boots on your dog seems increasingly reasonable.
10. I haven't walked across a parking lot, not even once, in 2004.
1. I no longer blink at the ideas of $1000 per month rent, $100 per month transit pass, or $300 per month condo fees.
2. I find it odd when I see promotional material with all white people on it.
3. I get shocked and offended when policies are made with the assumption that everyone has a car.
4. I don't find it weird that I shop at Dominion.
5. I'm always surprised when reminded that there are places where a person can, in fact, live on minimum wage.
6. I fully expect to see local news in national newspapers.
7. I always recite phone numbers with 10 digits.
8. I only go to Tim Horton's when there isn't a Second Cup, and I haven't rolled up a rim in ages.
9. Putting a sweater and boots on your dog seems increasingly reasonable.
10. I haven't walked across a parking lot, not even once, in 2004.
Sunday, February 08, 2004
I have a split end that isn't at the end of my hair. The bottom of my hair is normal, stuck together, and it stays like that for about 1cm, then it splits in 2 for a bit, then about 1 cm higher it goes normal again. The result is a sort of loop in the middle of my hair.
I also had a dream that told me I made the right decision leaving McMaster three/four years ago. I've never questioned my decision to do so, but I'd always had this idea that I could have had a different, but just as good, life there. After all, McMaster is a "good school." But I never would have challenged myself there, would have just worked in fast food for four years, never would have looked for (or even had opportunities for) an internship. I simply would have stagnated deeper and deeper into academics and mediocrity.
It's always nice to wake up in the morning with the enlightenment that one of your major life decisions was irrefutably correct.
I also had a dream that told me I made the right decision leaving McMaster three/four years ago. I've never questioned my decision to do so, but I'd always had this idea that I could have had a different, but just as good, life there. After all, McMaster is a "good school." But I never would have challenged myself there, would have just worked in fast food for four years, never would have looked for (or even had opportunities for) an internship. I simply would have stagnated deeper and deeper into academics and mediocrity.
It's always nice to wake up in the morning with the enlightenment that one of your major life decisions was irrefutably correct.
Saturday, February 07, 2004
As I write this, I'm sipping on Spinelli Quartana Montepulciano d'Abruzzo. I hope I spelled that right. First wine I've ever bought where I didn't know which words were the brand name and which words were the wine type without Google. This wine reminds me of why I like red wine. It's only about $7, but it's neither too tannic nor too young, as I've found is often the problem with inexpensive reds. If you asked me what it tastes like, I'd have to answer red grapes. Which is a strange answer (albeit an eminently reasonable thing for red wine to taste like), but I've never felt inclined to say that a wine tastes like grapes before. It's rich and subdued, with different flavours coming into the foreground depending on what you're eating. It makes me want to eat cheese, which again is eminently reasonable. Quite enjoyable with none of the disappointments of my recent red wine forays, and quite a nice price!
Lately I've seen an awful lot of media pieces about various things that would incline more protective parents to forbid their kids to ever leave the house again, and these pieces tend to be based on surveys of young teenagers.
So I'd just like to remind everyone: KIDS LIE ON SURVEYS! I'd say on the typical survey jr. high students, half of them are lying, either portraying themselves as they wish they were, or portraying themselves as they think they should be.
Why do they lie? To answer this, we have to take ourselves back to that unfortunate phase in our own lives and remember the brutal, cruel, culture that is jr. high. This is a world where people would get spat on for wearing jeans that were the wrong shade of blue. This is a world where if you confessed some weakness, even to your closest friend, the rest of the class would be exploiting that weakness within a weak. It's a world where no one wanted to be seen with you, not even sitting next to you, if you admitted that you liked something that wasn't cool, or weren't familiar with something that was cool.
Now not all kids would give into this massive peer pressure. A great many didn't want to give into peer pressure simply because the grownups were always saying that kids give into peer pressure and WE AREN'T STEREOTYPES DAMMIT! But there's only so much a person can take, so a common coping mechanism would be to lie about stuff. First this would be done in self-defence, then preemptively, then out of habit. For example, I would do things like casually mention that marijuana was so BORING so people would never find out that I didn't even know where to get drugs and had no desire to use them. I would pick some relatively unknown musician, buy one CD by them and learn one song, so that people wouldn't know that I preferred listening to the Beatles ueber alles. Then I'd be justified in not being familiar with what was on MuchMusic because I was too indie for MuchMusic. It was just a survival strategy in a world where people would put spiders in my hair because they'd found out I was afraid of them, and steal and vandalize my possessions because I watched Star Trek. I had no desire to conform whatsoever, but there's only so much a person can take, so a few pre-emptive lies prevented me from having to sell out.
So why would this make them lie on surveys? Two reasons. The first is that if the surveys are done in school, some kids would look at others' surveys. If someone saw that you had portrayed yourself in a manner that was unfavourable on your survey, whether or not it was true, they would take it to be true and torture you for it. But if they wanted you to be a target and you portrayed yourself in a manner that was favourable, they would torture you for having been so lame as to lie on the survey.
The second reason is that within your peer group, everything you'd say or do in front of a peer, no matter how private the situation, it would get back to your peer group. I went through hell because I once wore a nightgown to a sleepover, unaware that the dress code for a sleepover was gym shorts and t-shirts. Once my sister forced open the (locked) bathroom door while I was taking a dump and while she had friends over, and the fact that I had been caught with my pants down was all around the school by morning. In an environment like this, you don't always realize that what's on the survey won't get back to your peers, that telling the truth will give the world a more accurate impression of what kids your age are REALLY like (as opposed to what they pretend to be). You are simply trying to give these people what you think they might want to hear, or what will reflect the least badly on you, and maybe make your life a touch less hellish.
So the moral of the story is don't deny your child a normal social life because of the impression that a sampling of kids thought they wanted to give their surveyors.
So I'd just like to remind everyone: KIDS LIE ON SURVEYS! I'd say on the typical survey jr. high students, half of them are lying, either portraying themselves as they wish they were, or portraying themselves as they think they should be.
Why do they lie? To answer this, we have to take ourselves back to that unfortunate phase in our own lives and remember the brutal, cruel, culture that is jr. high. This is a world where people would get spat on for wearing jeans that were the wrong shade of blue. This is a world where if you confessed some weakness, even to your closest friend, the rest of the class would be exploiting that weakness within a weak. It's a world where no one wanted to be seen with you, not even sitting next to you, if you admitted that you liked something that wasn't cool, or weren't familiar with something that was cool.
Now not all kids would give into this massive peer pressure. A great many didn't want to give into peer pressure simply because the grownups were always saying that kids give into peer pressure and WE AREN'T STEREOTYPES DAMMIT! But there's only so much a person can take, so a common coping mechanism would be to lie about stuff. First this would be done in self-defence, then preemptively, then out of habit. For example, I would do things like casually mention that marijuana was so BORING so people would never find out that I didn't even know where to get drugs and had no desire to use them. I would pick some relatively unknown musician, buy one CD by them and learn one song, so that people wouldn't know that I preferred listening to the Beatles ueber alles. Then I'd be justified in not being familiar with what was on MuchMusic because I was too indie for MuchMusic. It was just a survival strategy in a world where people would put spiders in my hair because they'd found out I was afraid of them, and steal and vandalize my possessions because I watched Star Trek. I had no desire to conform whatsoever, but there's only so much a person can take, so a few pre-emptive lies prevented me from having to sell out.
So why would this make them lie on surveys? Two reasons. The first is that if the surveys are done in school, some kids would look at others' surveys. If someone saw that you had portrayed yourself in a manner that was unfavourable on your survey, whether or not it was true, they would take it to be true and torture you for it. But if they wanted you to be a target and you portrayed yourself in a manner that was favourable, they would torture you for having been so lame as to lie on the survey.
The second reason is that within your peer group, everything you'd say or do in front of a peer, no matter how private the situation, it would get back to your peer group. I went through hell because I once wore a nightgown to a sleepover, unaware that the dress code for a sleepover was gym shorts and t-shirts. Once my sister forced open the (locked) bathroom door while I was taking a dump and while she had friends over, and the fact that I had been caught with my pants down was all around the school by morning. In an environment like this, you don't always realize that what's on the survey won't get back to your peers, that telling the truth will give the world a more accurate impression of what kids your age are REALLY like (as opposed to what they pretend to be). You are simply trying to give these people what you think they might want to hear, or what will reflect the least badly on you, and maybe make your life a touch less hellish.
So the moral of the story is don't deny your child a normal social life because of the impression that a sampling of kids thought they wanted to give their surveyors.
LO-GEY! My eyes are tired but the rest of me isn't since I slept 12 hours last night. I should be doing housework that I've been putting off all week, but I want to put it off some more. I'm in my bathrobe and don't feel like getting dressed. I've been putting off my Harmony studies because the book is currently dealing with cadences and I've always found cadences dreadfully dull for some reason.
I'm going to procrastinate a bit more by painting my toenails a colour called SHAZAM! in order to alleviate February.
I'm going to procrastinate a bit more by painting my toenails a colour called SHAZAM! in order to alleviate February.
It's a long story why, but yesterday I saw a couple of pieces of baby clothes. I immediately made my puppy noise (for those who've never had the unique experience of hearing this, it's the noice I make when I see a particularly adorable puppy) and starting oohing and aahing over how TINY they were. Then I was discreetly informed that these are clothes for a six month old baby.
Moral of the story: Holy SHIT newborns must be tiny!
Moral of the story: Holy SHIT newborns must be tiny!
Friday, February 06, 2004
Thursday, February 05, 2004
You know it's February when I wake up every morning envying people who get to stay home sick. The cool thing about staying home sick is that not only do you get to lie in bed, drifting in and out of absurd dreams, while the whole neighbourhood heads off to work, but you also get the satisfaction of knowing that your lovely lie-in is the best possible thing you could be doing for yourself and for society in general at that particular moment.
Of course, when we're legitimately home sick we're always too miserable to care.
Of course, when we're legitimately home sick we're always too miserable to care.
A story of how screwed-up my moral standards are:
As I opened the door to the tunnel, a lady approached from the opposite direction. With one hand she held the harness of a guide dog, with the other she steadied herself on a walking cane. She seemed to be blind. I evaluated the situation, and held the door open for her as she passed through.
Now normally when a person approaches a door I've just opened, I open it all the way and hold it open for as long as my arm will reach the door, but I don't break stride. If they reach the door in time, fine. If not, they can still interrupt its swing shut with a good bodycheck, and I have done my duty as a good citizen by giving them an opportunity to pass through a door without dealing with the handle themselves.
Now for this blind, disabled lady with the guidedog, I held the door open. But I didn't hold it open because she was blind - blind people can generally manage doors, and I'd seen her pass this way before. I didn't hold it open because she was disabled - she had walking troubles but she wasn't frail (a frail person would probably have gotten a slightly longer door hold than a non-frail person). I didn't hold it open because her hands were full - it was a push door on her side.
No, I held it open because the guide dog was between her and the door, and I didn't know if the guide dog could bodycheck a door open, and I didn't want the beautiful doggie to get hurt. Ladies and gentlemen, my fucked up morals!
As I opened the door to the tunnel, a lady approached from the opposite direction. With one hand she held the harness of a guide dog, with the other she steadied herself on a walking cane. She seemed to be blind. I evaluated the situation, and held the door open for her as she passed through.
Now normally when a person approaches a door I've just opened, I open it all the way and hold it open for as long as my arm will reach the door, but I don't break stride. If they reach the door in time, fine. If not, they can still interrupt its swing shut with a good bodycheck, and I have done my duty as a good citizen by giving them an opportunity to pass through a door without dealing with the handle themselves.
Now for this blind, disabled lady with the guidedog, I held the door open. But I didn't hold it open because she was blind - blind people can generally manage doors, and I'd seen her pass this way before. I didn't hold it open because she was disabled - she had walking troubles but she wasn't frail (a frail person would probably have gotten a slightly longer door hold than a non-frail person). I didn't hold it open because her hands were full - it was a push door on her side.
No, I held it open because the guide dog was between her and the door, and I didn't know if the guide dog could bodycheck a door open, and I didn't want the beautiful doggie to get hurt. Ladies and gentlemen, my fucked up morals!
Incidently, here are the lyrics to that song Justin Timberlake and Janet Jackson were singing. Certainly not the most graphic song in the world, but there are definitely a couple of lines that I don't think should be in there if you want your broadcast to be appropriate for young children.
Latest book read: The Bug by Ellen Ullman. What am I doing reading a book called The Bug? Well, it isn't entymological (sp????), it's about a software bug. (Although the icon/motif thing to introduce a new chapter is an ascii insect, so people more phobic than me might be bothered).
It's a mystery/thriller about software testing and debugging, which works better than it sounds like. This book was particularly interesting to me because I can identify very strongly with both of the main characters. Each of them is about 75% me. The story works well and they incorporate a lot of actual code to explain the bug, but through the narration you can get a sufficient understanding of what's going on even if you can't read C.
However, I didn't like the way this book handled relationships/romance/sex. It simply did not contribute anything. Only one relationship had the slightest significance ever to the overall plot. It felt like the author was putting relationships in because she thought there should be relationship stuff in a book.
It's a mystery/thriller about software testing and debugging, which works better than it sounds like. This book was particularly interesting to me because I can identify very strongly with both of the main characters. Each of them is about 75% me. The story works well and they incorporate a lot of actual code to explain the bug, but through the narration you can get a sufficient understanding of what's going on even if you can't read C.
However, I didn't like the way this book handled relationships/romance/sex. It simply did not contribute anything. Only one relationship had the slightest significance ever to the overall plot. It felt like the author was putting relationships in because she thought there should be relationship stuff in a book.
Wednesday, February 04, 2004
Tuesday, February 03, 2004
Yesterday I was really tense and stressed, so I was happy when my body and mind reached a kind of meditative calm during my last dream of last night. The dream itself was very odd (it involved a shower on my balcony that worked only when certain TV shows were on, and it also involved the kids from Roseanne immigrating) but physically and mentally I was very very calm and happily floating along. So I was very disappointed when I woke up, because I wanted to stay asleep in happy floaty land.
Many years ago, when I was in grade 5, we had a snow day because of freezing rain. The freezing rain left a coat of ice over everything, strong enough that we could sometimes walk on top of it without crunching through into the underlying snow, and we passed a happy day sledding in our extra-slippery backyard. Ever since then, "freezing rain" has meant "snow day" to me, and whenever the weather seems mildly conducive to freezing rain, as it is right now, a part of me feels entitled to stay home in bed. But of course the world doesn't work that way, so I will have to wait until tonight to get back to my happy place.
Many years ago, when I was in grade 5, we had a snow day because of freezing rain. The freezing rain left a coat of ice over everything, strong enough that we could sometimes walk on top of it without crunching through into the underlying snow, and we passed a happy day sledding in our extra-slippery backyard. Ever since then, "freezing rain" has meant "snow day" to me, and whenever the weather seems mildly conducive to freezing rain, as it is right now, a part of me feels entitled to stay home in bed. But of course the world doesn't work that way, so I will have to wait until tonight to get back to my happy place.
Monday, February 02, 2004
My watch has a leather band. There's this one bit of the band where the leather is folded over, and this fold is instrumental in holding the buckle together. Originally it was probably glued together, but now it has come undone, which makes it difficult for me to do up my watch.
Anyone know what kind of glue can be used on a leather watchband and where you would acquire said glue?
Anyone know what kind of glue can be used on a leather watchband and where you would acquire said glue?
Sunday, February 01, 2004
Just finished Property by Valerie Martin. It's basically the story of an antebellum female slaveowner, whom the author manages to portray sympathetically, showing that she's a product of her environment rather than pure evil personified. I enjoy the author's understated writing style - this book could easily have been made sensationalistic and unpleasant. I don't think the story itself was anything particularly profound, but it was an easy enough world to be drawn into and I did find myself caring about the characters. I didn't have to force myself to read, but I could put the book down easily enough. I finished the 193 page book in two weekend days. Overall, worth reading but I don't know if I'll read it again.
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