My family always accuses me of writing depressing poetry. But that’s not true! I’ve written many funny or random things in the past. For example, there’s my poem called “The Challenge.” And there’s also my poem about Chinese buns!
Now here’s a new one! It’s dedicated to my office plant. I originally bought the plant from Walmart when I was living in Ottawa and feeling a bit down. The thing had become my staunch companion and has survived being moved from Ottawa to Owen Sound to Toronto to Owen Sound to Montreal. It’s obviously very hardy.
I was first struck with the idea of writing a haiku to it.
Droopy potted plant
Seeks to brighten grey office.
Monday. New week starts.
And then I was inspired to continue writing about it, so I went into a free verse poem.
My little sad plant holds the darkness at bay.
It strives ever upward, spreading magnificence
Against austere white walls and corporate gleam.
It hushes the cold whir of electronics
And clamours for you to pause,
To admire its emerald splendour.
My little sad plant, ever loyal,
Helps me to get through day after day.
And then I was still inspired, so I changed it into a rhyming couplet.
Against my office’s austere white walls and corporate gleam,
A splash of colour interrupts the scheme.
My little potted plant holds the dreariness at bay.
Emerald elegance it does convey.
Its very stillness clamours for you to pause,
To admire it. Why? Just because.
It strives to brighten our day
Through colour, beauty, and every way.
My little sad plant, staunch friend,
We’ll be together till the very end.
My favourite parts of the poem:
- corporate gleam
- “Its very stillness clamours for you to pause”
In the second last line I originally described it as my “staunch companion.” I like that word better, but I couldn’t find a nice rhyme to end it with.
So there you go. Not everything that I write is sad and depressing!
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Backsliding
I am carnivore! Hear me roar! MEOW! Okay, so maybe I’m not a raging meat-eater. I’m more of a fledging carnivore now. You can say that I ate my “flexitarian” ideals this week.
Hang on a second… What the hell is a flexitarian? That my dear friends, is a “flexible vegetarian.” You know, that thing that I’ve been since July.
Last summer my niece decided to become vegetarian. I was inspired to do the same. My last vegetarian experience was in high school. I went for 6 weeks without meat. I finally quit because I was tired of making my own meals.
I figured that now that I was older, and that I cooked for myself all the time anyways, that I could probably handle doing the veggie thing. I posted that I was going to become a veggiesaurus on Facebook and was immediately mocked by everyone I knew, but I was determined to prove them all wrong.
My vegetarian resolution lasted 12 hours.
The very next day I was invited to a group lunch at work. I was eager to meet my colleagues and agreed. Except that our meal was being ordered from St-Hubert’s… Which had no vegetarian options available. I certainly didn’t want to make a fuss, so I just shut my mouth and gnawed away on my chicken bones.
Later that night I did some research on vegetarianism, etc. and I came across the term, “Flexitarian” which meant that you consciously made the attempt to eat mainly vegetarian dishes, but could eat meat too. My personal stance became, “I shall eat only vegetarian in my apartment but will eat meat when I go to restaurants, etc.”
Honestly, this method worked really well. I’ve bought probably less than $50 worth of meat in the past 6 months and I’ve learned how to cook a wide variety of other veggie dishes.
However, there comes a point when you just can’t face another bowl of lentils! You can only cook beans in so many ways! You just cannot endure any more cheese! (Surprisingly, I didn’t eat that much tofu – although I did find an amazing tofu parmigana recipe!)
This past week I finally gave up and started buying meat. I have missed the variety of textures and flavours that meat has to offer. I also have missed using my recipe books, most of which are focused on meat.
That being said, I vow to make an effort to cook vegetarian once a week. (And no, this declaration is not spurred on by the fact that I still have bags of dried beans and lentils in my cupboard. Really.)
Hang on a second… What the hell is a flexitarian? That my dear friends, is a “flexible vegetarian.” You know, that thing that I’ve been since July.
Last summer my niece decided to become vegetarian. I was inspired to do the same. My last vegetarian experience was in high school. I went for 6 weeks without meat. I finally quit because I was tired of making my own meals.
I figured that now that I was older, and that I cooked for myself all the time anyways, that I could probably handle doing the veggie thing. I posted that I was going to become a veggiesaurus on Facebook and was immediately mocked by everyone I knew, but I was determined to prove them all wrong.
My vegetarian resolution lasted 12 hours.
The very next day I was invited to a group lunch at work. I was eager to meet my colleagues and agreed. Except that our meal was being ordered from St-Hubert’s… Which had no vegetarian options available. I certainly didn’t want to make a fuss, so I just shut my mouth and gnawed away on my chicken bones.
Later that night I did some research on vegetarianism, etc. and I came across the term, “Flexitarian” which meant that you consciously made the attempt to eat mainly vegetarian dishes, but could eat meat too. My personal stance became, “I shall eat only vegetarian in my apartment but will eat meat when I go to restaurants, etc.”
Honestly, this method worked really well. I’ve bought probably less than $50 worth of meat in the past 6 months and I’ve learned how to cook a wide variety of other veggie dishes.
However, there comes a point when you just can’t face another bowl of lentils! You can only cook beans in so many ways! You just cannot endure any more cheese! (Surprisingly, I didn’t eat that much tofu – although I did find an amazing tofu parmigana recipe!)
This past week I finally gave up and started buying meat. I have missed the variety of textures and flavours that meat has to offer. I also have missed using my recipe books, most of which are focused on meat.
That being said, I vow to make an effort to cook vegetarian once a week. (And no, this declaration is not spurred on by the fact that I still have bags of dried beans and lentils in my cupboard. Really.)
Friday, January 08, 2010
Conquering fears
One of my secret fears in life is seaweed. If I'm at a lake or someplace else where the bottom of the water is NOT covered by sand, I get creeped out when stuff touches the bottoms of my feet. Or, if I'm in a boat, I can't help but imagine it capsizing and the seaweed reaching up, wrapping around my legs, and pulling me under.
This past Christmas, I got the opportunity to mix my personal fear of seaweed and the generic fear of suffocation by being trapped under ice. I crossed the Moosonee Ice Road. I assure you, it was great fuel for nightmares.
Every winter, the Moose River freezes over. The ice grows so thick that you can literally driver cars over it. Now, it's one thing to know this in theory, but another to see it in practice. While walking by the river bank in Moosonee with my family, I could see cars, snowmobiles and people walking across the water. I'll admit that a part of me wanted to cross the river, but another part of me was terrified by the idea of it. Either my family could tell that I wanted to try it, or they just wanted some entertainment by watching me freak out, but they decided to drag me across the ice to the island of Moose Factory.
You see, my mom and sisters grew up in Moosonee. For them the ice road is a normal part of life. Me? I'm from the South. Down here, only idiots and ice fishers go out on top of the ice. Heck, prior to this Christmas, the last time I was on ice that wasn't a skating rink was when I was 12 years old, fooling around on my friend's frozen pond and fell through the ice. (And then the next day I managed to fall into an abandoned well.)
We piled into the vehicle. They were "gracious" enough to let me have the front seat (AKA they wanted me to have a better view with which to freak out better). Immediately when June, my eldest sister who was driving, turned off the land road to start descending the river bank we were confronted with a giant yellow road block at the bottom of the bank and beyond that you can see a bit of broken ice in the water. It was like a sign from God saying, "Hey IDIOTS! There's frozen water beyond this point! Turn back or I'll get all Darwin on your asses!" Apparently the road block was just there to indicate that you weren't supposed to drive directly forward - you had to turn left and look for a better spot to get on to the ice.
So before I could completely chicken out, we drove on to the ice. I swear, my heart was beating faster than when I parachuted from 12,000 feet. I was operating on pure adrenaline for the entire experience! I am not ashamed to admit that I was secretly reviewing every TV show I've seen on how to escape from a sunken vehicle. (Meaning, roll down the window slowly, let the car fill up with water until the last possible moment, etc.)
I was surprised by how bumpy the ride was - the ice and surface snow had created some truly amazing craters (err, pot holes) that we had to dodge. Half way across the river, they pulled the car over and made me get out and stand on the ice. Now the amusing thing about getting out of the car is that they thought I'd be more freaked out by standing directly on the ice. Hell, my only thoughts were along the line of "Oh thank god I'm out of the heavy vehicle which is much more likely to plunge into the frozen depths than little ol' me!" We took a couple of photos before jumping back in the car.
While continuing our drive, one smartass pointed out the giant cracks that we were driving over. June joked and said that they were fault lines. Can you see how cruel my family is? Trying to rile me up even more than I already was? I won't be surprised if I need therapy in a few years.
I think the most terrifying part of the experience was getting up and down the Moose Factory side of the river. When we got to the other river bank, there was a great deal of water on top of the ice - to me it looked like the ice was broken and water had bubbled to the top (which was partially true). I had the lovely opportunity to watch a taxi ahead of us have trouble ascending the river bank - it was so slippery/icy that it kept sliding around before it finally made it up. Next it was our turn.
Oh my god. We literally had to drive through a foot of water to get to the river bank. June slowed down the vehicle to go through it so that she wouldn't splash it up into her engine. I wasn't aware of this thought process though. My mind was running more to the idea that we needed to get up to launching speed! We made it across the small expanse of water and started going up the river bank... Only to have the same problem as the taxi. Our car, with all-wheel drive, started sliding BACKWARDS towards a bad patch of water we had avoided! I honestly thought we were going to end up in the water. When I get extremely nervous, I sometimes get really quiet. While mounting the river bank, I don't think I was even breathing in my effort not to make noise! However, we made it! Safe and sound!
While at Moose Factory we stopped at a couple of stores. I kept looking for a life jacket so that I could joke that I wanted it for the ride back, but with now luck. At one of the stores we ran into my Uncle Terry. My mom told me about my quest for a life jacket and helpfully he reminded us, "Oh, you don't have to worry about drowning - the hypothermia will get you first." Yeah. Reeeeaaaal helpful there!
The trip back to Moosonee was almost just as bad. First of all, by the time we returned, it was full dark out and with the exception of our headlights, there were no other lights to help guide our way. We couldn't even see the lights of Moosonee across the river because there was another small island in the way!
The worst part of the return trip was getting down the stupid slippery river bank again. Remember how I mentioned that we had slid down it backwards? Yeah, well this time we started sliding down it forwards! My middle sister and I were practically ready to get out and offer to push the damned car back onto the proper track! By some miracle of miracles, we managed to avoid sliding into the water and got "safely" on the ice.
While driving across the black expanse of ice it was pitch black. When we finally passed the small island that was blocking our view of Moosonee and could see the lights of the town I cried out, "Oh thank God, civilization!" Everyone laughed because most of the time, I tend to be derisive of Moosonee - calling a city of 5000 people "civilized" is a big concession on my part.
By the time we finally made it back to land on the Moosonee side, I was ready to drop down and kiss the ground. I honestly cannot express how nervous I was about the drive across. I knew that the chances of anything happening weren't very big, after all, they check the depth of the ice regularly, plows go out on the river to clear the road, etc. But I couldn't help the pitter patter of my heart nor the shocky state of my nerves. Despite my fears, I survived. What should I do for my next adventure? Wrangle alligators? Walk barefoot across coals? We’ll just have to wait and see.
This past Christmas, I got the opportunity to mix my personal fear of seaweed and the generic fear of suffocation by being trapped under ice. I crossed the Moosonee Ice Road. I assure you, it was great fuel for nightmares.
Every winter, the Moose River freezes over. The ice grows so thick that you can literally driver cars over it. Now, it's one thing to know this in theory, but another to see it in practice. While walking by the river bank in Moosonee with my family, I could see cars, snowmobiles and people walking across the water. I'll admit that a part of me wanted to cross the river, but another part of me was terrified by the idea of it. Either my family could tell that I wanted to try it, or they just wanted some entertainment by watching me freak out, but they decided to drag me across the ice to the island of Moose Factory.
You see, my mom and sisters grew up in Moosonee. For them the ice road is a normal part of life. Me? I'm from the South. Down here, only idiots and ice fishers go out on top of the ice. Heck, prior to this Christmas, the last time I was on ice that wasn't a skating rink was when I was 12 years old, fooling around on my friend's frozen pond and fell through the ice. (And then the next day I managed to fall into an abandoned well.)
We piled into the vehicle. They were "gracious" enough to let me have the front seat (AKA they wanted me to have a better view with which to freak out better). Immediately when June, my eldest sister who was driving, turned off the land road to start descending the river bank we were confronted with a giant yellow road block at the bottom of the bank and beyond that you can see a bit of broken ice in the water. It was like a sign from God saying, "Hey IDIOTS! There's frozen water beyond this point! Turn back or I'll get all Darwin on your asses!" Apparently the road block was just there to indicate that you weren't supposed to drive directly forward - you had to turn left and look for a better spot to get on to the ice.
So before I could completely chicken out, we drove on to the ice. I swear, my heart was beating faster than when I parachuted from 12,000 feet. I was operating on pure adrenaline for the entire experience! I am not ashamed to admit that I was secretly reviewing every TV show I've seen on how to escape from a sunken vehicle. (Meaning, roll down the window slowly, let the car fill up with water until the last possible moment, etc.)
I was surprised by how bumpy the ride was - the ice and surface snow had created some truly amazing craters (err, pot holes) that we had to dodge. Half way across the river, they pulled the car over and made me get out and stand on the ice. Now the amusing thing about getting out of the car is that they thought I'd be more freaked out by standing directly on the ice. Hell, my only thoughts were along the line of "Oh thank god I'm out of the heavy vehicle which is much more likely to plunge into the frozen depths than little ol' me!" We took a couple of photos before jumping back in the car.
While continuing our drive, one smartass pointed out the giant cracks that we were driving over. June joked and said that they were fault lines. Can you see how cruel my family is? Trying to rile me up even more than I already was? I won't be surprised if I need therapy in a few years.
I think the most terrifying part of the experience was getting up and down the Moose Factory side of the river. When we got to the other river bank, there was a great deal of water on top of the ice - to me it looked like the ice was broken and water had bubbled to the top (which was partially true). I had the lovely opportunity to watch a taxi ahead of us have trouble ascending the river bank - it was so slippery/icy that it kept sliding around before it finally made it up. Next it was our turn.
Oh my god. We literally had to drive through a foot of water to get to the river bank. June slowed down the vehicle to go through it so that she wouldn't splash it up into her engine. I wasn't aware of this thought process though. My mind was running more to the idea that we needed to get up to launching speed! We made it across the small expanse of water and started going up the river bank... Only to have the same problem as the taxi. Our car, with all-wheel drive, started sliding BACKWARDS towards a bad patch of water we had avoided! I honestly thought we were going to end up in the water. When I get extremely nervous, I sometimes get really quiet. While mounting the river bank, I don't think I was even breathing in my effort not to make noise! However, we made it! Safe and sound!
While at Moose Factory we stopped at a couple of stores. I kept looking for a life jacket so that I could joke that I wanted it for the ride back, but with now luck. At one of the stores we ran into my Uncle Terry. My mom told me about my quest for a life jacket and helpfully he reminded us, "Oh, you don't have to worry about drowning - the hypothermia will get you first." Yeah. Reeeeaaaal helpful there!
The trip back to Moosonee was almost just as bad. First of all, by the time we returned, it was full dark out and with the exception of our headlights, there were no other lights to help guide our way. We couldn't even see the lights of Moosonee across the river because there was another small island in the way!
The worst part of the return trip was getting down the stupid slippery river bank again. Remember how I mentioned that we had slid down it backwards? Yeah, well this time we started sliding down it forwards! My middle sister and I were practically ready to get out and offer to push the damned car back onto the proper track! By some miracle of miracles, we managed to avoid sliding into the water and got "safely" on the ice.
While driving across the black expanse of ice it was pitch black. When we finally passed the small island that was blocking our view of Moosonee and could see the lights of the town I cried out, "Oh thank God, civilization!" Everyone laughed because most of the time, I tend to be derisive of Moosonee - calling a city of 5000 people "civilized" is a big concession on my part.
By the time we finally made it back to land on the Moosonee side, I was ready to drop down and kiss the ground. I honestly cannot express how nervous I was about the drive across. I knew that the chances of anything happening weren't very big, after all, they check the depth of the ice regularly, plows go out on the river to clear the road, etc. But I couldn't help the pitter patter of my heart nor the shocky state of my nerves. Despite my fears, I survived. What should I do for my next adventure? Wrangle alligators? Walk barefoot across coals? We’ll just have to wait and see.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Language issues
I never realized how difficult the English language was until I moved here to Montreal, and it’s only been in the last few language exchange dinners that I’ve realized some of the key problems with our language.
Case in point – last week two Francophones were pointing out the problem with English verbs. In French there is a separate verb for every action. In English, we have one verb and append a preposition to the end of it to change its meaning. E.g. to hang up, out, in, on, etc. In French the equivalents would be raccrocher, sortir (no real equivalent), tenir, accrocher, etc.
I’ve also always taken our ability to enunciate some words for granted. I was chatting with a guy from France and a Caribbean French speaker last night. They were trying to understand the difference in pronunciation between ‘thought’ and ‘fought.’ They couldn’t differentiate between the two words because of the “th” sound. Sometimes difficulties like these can be very funny. E.g. The Caribbean guy was demonstrating his attempts to say “beach” and “sheet.” I can totally see how miscommunications would happen with his accent. :)
That being said I have similar difficulties at times. E.g. I have a hard time differentiating between the words “cueillir” (to pick, as in to pick an apple) and “cuillère” (spoon). Everytime I have to say them, I have to stop and carefully pronounce them. One of the Anglophones in our group also has a hard time telling “province” and “provence” apart.
Case in point – last week two Francophones were pointing out the problem with English verbs. In French there is a separate verb for every action. In English, we have one verb and append a preposition to the end of it to change its meaning. E.g. to hang up, out, in, on, etc. In French the equivalents would be raccrocher, sortir (no real equivalent), tenir, accrocher, etc.
I’ve also always taken our ability to enunciate some words for granted. I was chatting with a guy from France and a Caribbean French speaker last night. They were trying to understand the difference in pronunciation between ‘thought’ and ‘fought.’ They couldn’t differentiate between the two words because of the “th” sound. Sometimes difficulties like these can be very funny. E.g. The Caribbean guy was demonstrating his attempts to say “beach” and “sheet.” I can totally see how miscommunications would happen with his accent. :)
That being said I have similar difficulties at times. E.g. I have a hard time differentiating between the words “cueillir” (to pick, as in to pick an apple) and “cuillère” (spoon). Everytime I have to say them, I have to stop and carefully pronounce them. One of the Anglophones in our group also has a hard time telling “province” and “provence” apart.
Monday, November 09, 2009
Quebec Holidays
Despite my earlier rants, working in Quebec does have its advantages. One of those advantages is the holidays. In Ontario, we only got 10 public holidays. In Quebec, we get 13.
Ontario
1. New Year's Day
2. Good Friday
3. Easter Monday
4. Victoria Day
5. Canada Day
6. Civic Holiday
7. Labour Day
8. Thanksgiving Day
9. Christmas Day
10. Boxing Day
Quebec
1. Jour de l'An
2. Jour des Rois
3. Statutaire
4. Vendredi Saint
5. Lundi de Pâques
6. Fête des Patriotes
7. Saint-Jean-Baptiste
8. Confédération
9. Fête du Travail
10. Action de Grâces
11. Fête du Souvenir
12. Immaculée Conception
13. Noël
The even better thing about my workplace is that we get to displace several of these holidays and take them during the Christmas holidays instead. So for example, although Jour des Rois takes place in February, we work that day and take the time off at Christmas instead. The same goes for the Statutaire holiday, the Fête du Souvenir and Immaculée Conception. Therefore at Christmas I can take off nearly an entire week without having to take a day of vacation or a day without pay.
That’s also where today’s confusion on whether I should come into work or not stemmed from.
Ontario
1. New Year's Day
2. Good Friday
3. Easter Monday
4. Victoria Day
5. Canada Day
6. Civic Holiday
7. Labour Day
8. Thanksgiving Day
9. Christmas Day
10. Boxing Day
Quebec
1. Jour de l'An
2. Jour des Rois
3. Statutaire
4. Vendredi Saint
5. Lundi de Pâques
6. Fête des Patriotes
7. Saint-Jean-Baptiste
8. Confédération
9. Fête du Travail
10. Action de Grâces
11. Fête du Souvenir
12. Immaculée Conception
13. Noël
The even better thing about my workplace is that we get to displace several of these holidays and take them during the Christmas holidays instead. So for example, although Jour des Rois takes place in February, we work that day and take the time off at Christmas instead. The same goes for the Statutaire holiday, the Fête du Souvenir and Immaculée Conception. Therefore at Christmas I can take off nearly an entire week without having to take a day of vacation or a day without pay.
That’s also where today’s confusion on whether I should come into work or not stemmed from.
Congé statutaire
Today I thought I came into work on a statutory holiday.
Already running late due to a metro malfunction, I arrived outside my building to discover that my usual entrance was locked. I figured that the side doors were closed because of a pending swine flu clinic, so I shrugged and made my way to the main entrance. There I encountered a man, a patient, who was waiting outside too. He then informed me that the Research Centre was closed!
Sure enough in the door there was a sign informing people that today is a Statutory Holiday and the building was therefore closed. I was like, what the hell?! I came into work by accident??? I was positive that the list of holidays given to me when I started working did not include Remembrance Day.
Luckily a technician came out to meet with the patient and on her way back in (through a back entrance using a security card) I decided to tag along. I figured that I was already there so I might as well work after all! However, on my way to the office I passed by a bunch of other offices where people were also here and working, including some of my “co-workers.”
When I stopped to ask one of them why everyone was working, they reminded me that yes, Remembrance Day is a statutory holiday, but that the Research Centre takes the time off during Christmas vacation instead. Phew! I’m so relieved that I decided to work instead of just going home instead!
Already running late due to a metro malfunction, I arrived outside my building to discover that my usual entrance was locked. I figured that the side doors were closed because of a pending swine flu clinic, so I shrugged and made my way to the main entrance. There I encountered a man, a patient, who was waiting outside too. He then informed me that the Research Centre was closed!
Sure enough in the door there was a sign informing people that today is a Statutory Holiday and the building was therefore closed. I was like, what the hell?! I came into work by accident??? I was positive that the list of holidays given to me when I started working did not include Remembrance Day.
Luckily a technician came out to meet with the patient and on her way back in (through a back entrance using a security card) I decided to tag along. I figured that I was already there so I might as well work after all! However, on my way to the office I passed by a bunch of other offices where people were also here and working, including some of my “co-workers.”
When I stopped to ask one of them why everyone was working, they reminded me that yes, Remembrance Day is a statutory holiday, but that the Research Centre takes the time off during Christmas vacation instead. Phew! I’m so relieved that I decided to work instead of just going home instead!
Friday, November 06, 2009
Death Of My Neighbor
Death of my neighbour
With me he tried to plead
But his words I did not heed.
He had tried to convince,
But stubborn, I clung to my grievance.
He used the word ‘prejudice’,
But I knew I was right about this.
He then branded me bigot,
And many other things that I forget.
In response I told him what people really thought
Gave him knowledge that he hadn’t sought.
I fought back, told him the reality,
Unknowingly wounding him mortally.
They found his body on a Monday,
Hanging from the rafters above the hay.
I got away with murder that day,
And ever since for my soul I pray
With me he tried to plead
But his words I did not heed.
He had tried to convince,
But stubborn, I clung to my grievance.
He used the word ‘prejudice’,
But I knew I was right about this.
He then branded me bigot,
And many other things that I forget.
In response I told him what people really thought
Gave him knowledge that he hadn’t sought.
I fought back, told him the reality,
Unknowingly wounding him mortally.
They found his body on a Monday,
Hanging from the rafters above the hay.
I got away with murder that day,
And ever since for my soul I pray
The cancer in our society
I was reading some followup news on the CBC website about the shooting on the Texas military base. Out of curiousity I started browsing through some the reader comments left behind. I was horrified when I read a comment left by user "newstome":
I find it so hard to understand how people can think like this. With all the diversity here in Canada, how can someone think things like this?! I was especially bothered by their suggestion to restrict and isolate them.
One thing I have always been proud of in Canada is how immigrants can come here and succeed. You can't deny that there are problems - e.g. We have all kinds of qualified professionals who move here but their credentials are not recognized and so they end up working as taxi drivers, etc. But they work so hard for their own children and then the kids are able to outstrip the "Canadian" kids in education and everything else.
I love that Canadians accept and embrace the multicultral aspect of our country. I think that the fact that someone can move here and maintain their own culture is a sign of our own strength and self-belief. (Although, after saying that, it makes you wonder about the sovereign Quebec movement...)
So when I hear stuff like the bigoted language above and how they try to make themselves sound righteous it terrifies me! E.g. "We can't use extreme means to do it or we come down to their level but we have to start with identifying them and isolating them." Hello?! Isolation is NOT the answer! We need to open communications so that we can understand our differences and be willing to compromise. Obviously this won't work with extremists, but the majority of the world are NOT extreme! And the fact that this individual is talking about targetting people in CANADA is even worse! It's revolting that they're trying to claim that they're better than the extremists because they're not sinking to "their level" - yeah, like your idea is any different. Death by suicide bomb or social death by ostracization. Not much difference in terms of karma I think.
Can't they understand that their ideas are wrong??? Canada has done this in the past! Isolating the Japanese during WWII did nothing to protect us! At least back then we had the excuse that racism was still partially acceptable and that the Japanese were on the opposite side of the war... But haven't we learned better?
I think the thing that set me off the most about this article was the comment about how RCMP officers should not be allowed to wear their turban. And the mountie uniform is just that - a uniform! Ugh. I am beyond proud that we can and do allow them to express themselves religiously. It's not hurting you so shut up about it!
I'm too flabbergasted by this comment to be more articulate. It's even worse because the user's profile indicates that they live in Peterborough, so it's not like they have the excuse of living in a small town! Can we ask McGuinty (the loser didn't even know how to spell his name right) to deport all the racists instead? Or would the worse punishment be to make them stay and force them to see how much more enlightened the rest of us are?
Whatever the answers may be, the person got their diagnosis wrong. Muslims and Middle-Eastern people are not the cancer in our society. Its the hate that racists spread that is the true cancer.
One has to wonder how many messages we need to receive or how many shots across our bow before we realize we are in world war III. A war that has implanted the enemy not in army over there but in every day types over here. The enemy force is in all nations and like they do over there they hide behind our women and children and the women and children of their own who are honest, hard working and amongst us as well.
We need to weed this cancer out of our society. We can't use extreme means to do it or we come down to their level but we have to start with identifying them and isolating them. That doesn't mean concentration camps what it means is that the general public at large must be made aware of who they are and where they are. They must be restricted from holding sensitive jobs like government or law enforcement. What comes to mind is an RCMP officer whose beliefs outweigh the traditions of Canada and insists on wearing a turban. I'm sorry but that's an indicator and that is not our RCMP uniform. If they feel that strongly they should be clerics but certainly not our “first line of defense”.
Sooner or later we have to wake up to the fact that there is a problem to be dealt with. Do we wait till buildings in one of our cities topple or do we take a stand now. Tamals are a prime example, deport those from the boat immediately and charge any that demonstrate with inciting a riot. Hear that McQuinty, do your job!
I find it so hard to understand how people can think like this. With all the diversity here in Canada, how can someone think things like this?! I was especially bothered by their suggestion to restrict and isolate them.
One thing I have always been proud of in Canada is how immigrants can come here and succeed. You can't deny that there are problems - e.g. We have all kinds of qualified professionals who move here but their credentials are not recognized and so they end up working as taxi drivers, etc. But they work so hard for their own children and then the kids are able to outstrip the "Canadian" kids in education and everything else.
I love that Canadians accept and embrace the multicultral aspect of our country. I think that the fact that someone can move here and maintain their own culture is a sign of our own strength and self-belief. (Although, after saying that, it makes you wonder about the sovereign Quebec movement...)
So when I hear stuff like the bigoted language above and how they try to make themselves sound righteous it terrifies me! E.g. "We can't use extreme means to do it or we come down to their level but we have to start with identifying them and isolating them." Hello?! Isolation is NOT the answer! We need to open communications so that we can understand our differences and be willing to compromise. Obviously this won't work with extremists, but the majority of the world are NOT extreme! And the fact that this individual is talking about targetting people in CANADA is even worse! It's revolting that they're trying to claim that they're better than the extremists because they're not sinking to "their level" - yeah, like your idea is any different. Death by suicide bomb or social death by ostracization. Not much difference in terms of karma I think.
Can't they understand that their ideas are wrong??? Canada has done this in the past! Isolating the Japanese during WWII did nothing to protect us! At least back then we had the excuse that racism was still partially acceptable and that the Japanese were on the opposite side of the war... But haven't we learned better?
I think the thing that set me off the most about this article was the comment about how RCMP officers should not be allowed to wear their turban. And the mountie uniform is just that - a uniform! Ugh. I am beyond proud that we can and do allow them to express themselves religiously. It's not hurting you so shut up about it!
I'm too flabbergasted by this comment to be more articulate. It's even worse because the user's profile indicates that they live in Peterborough, so it's not like they have the excuse of living in a small town! Can we ask McGuinty (the loser didn't even know how to spell his name right) to deport all the racists instead? Or would the worse punishment be to make them stay and force them to see how much more enlightened the rest of us are?
Whatever the answers may be, the person got their diagnosis wrong. Muslims and Middle-Eastern people are not the cancer in our society. Its the hate that racists spread that is the true cancer.
Monday, November 02, 2009
Daylight Savings
This is the first year that I've ever appreciated daylight savings. When I was young I never paid attention to it. I just turned my clock back when my mom told me to and then promptly forgot about it.
In my university days it never mattered to me because I had such an irregular sleeping schedule - I was awake until 2am and didn't get up until 10am so again, I didn't care about that 1 hour difference. (Although I do remember going clubbing in Toronto once and being excited because the time change meant that we got an extra hour of drinking.)
Last year when I finally had a full time job, it didn't make a difference to me because I was living in a basement apartment and it was always dark.
This year was the year of change though. My new apartment has its large windows and it was such a pleasant change waking up this morning and not having it dark outside! Those of you who know me know that I'm not a morning person. When I wake up, I refuse to turn on any lights because they hurt my eyes. I even shower in the dark. Well, this morning I fairly leapt out of bed because I could actually see for once. I felt so much more alert rather than fumbling around in the darkness.
Now we'll see if this happy feeling lasts when it becomes dark at 5PM though.
P.S. I did and did not forget about the time change this year. I remembered it every single day including Saturday, but when I got home Saturday night at midnight I was exhausted and went straight to bed. Since I was supposed to play basketball, I set my alarm clock on my cell phone and went to sleep.
I woke up early the next morning - before my alarm sounded. So I turned it off and started getting ready for basketball. Luckily I decided to surf the net a bit before I left, because I while I was reading secrets on postsecret.blogspot.com I came across one that mentioned daylight savings time. That's when I finally remembered the time change, and realized that I was therefore an hour early for basketball! Whoops!
In my university days it never mattered to me because I had such an irregular sleeping schedule - I was awake until 2am and didn't get up until 10am so again, I didn't care about that 1 hour difference. (Although I do remember going clubbing in Toronto once and being excited because the time change meant that we got an extra hour of drinking.)
Last year when I finally had a full time job, it didn't make a difference to me because I was living in a basement apartment and it was always dark.
This year was the year of change though. My new apartment has its large windows and it was such a pleasant change waking up this morning and not having it dark outside! Those of you who know me know that I'm not a morning person. When I wake up, I refuse to turn on any lights because they hurt my eyes. I even shower in the dark. Well, this morning I fairly leapt out of bed because I could actually see for once. I felt so much more alert rather than fumbling around in the darkness.
Now we'll see if this happy feeling lasts when it becomes dark at 5PM though.
P.S. I did and did not forget about the time change this year. I remembered it every single day including Saturday, but when I got home Saturday night at midnight I was exhausted and went straight to bed. Since I was supposed to play basketball, I set my alarm clock on my cell phone and went to sleep.
I woke up early the next morning - before my alarm sounded. So I turned it off and started getting ready for basketball. Luckily I decided to surf the net a bit before I left, because I while I was reading secrets on postsecret.blogspot.com I came across one that mentioned daylight savings time. That's when I finally remembered the time change, and realized that I was therefore an hour early for basketball! Whoops!
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Killin' Momma
Finish your ciggy quickly
Because trouble is brewin’.
Too long we’ve ignored things.
Momma’s done playin’.
She gave us our chance
But all we did was waste it.
Now momma’s real mad.
She’s angry, throwing a fit.
She’s hangin’ us out to dry
Takin’ away what was ours.
You can deny it all you want
From your tall white towers,
But you can’t deny the truth.
Momma’s flipped and I’m glad.
She’s raging and crying.
Turns out the she isn’t just a fad.
As her gaunt children stare
We’ll bluster and reject.
Hide the evidence behind deceit
While everything gets wrecked.
We’ll give her bandaids while
The wounds underneath fester,
Say that it just needs time,
That things will get better.
Even as her limbs wither
And our hearts start the shrivel,
We’ll ignore the symptoms
Saying that it’s naught but drivel.
As we die with her they’ll rage
“She didn’t tell us, she didn’t say!”
They’ll get silence because
Momma we did slay.
Okay, if you need this one spelled out for you, it's about the environmental crisis. Below is a couple of explanations as to why I wrote what I did. Oh, and the rhyming pattern is ABCB. I was originally going to try to make this topic into a parody of "Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night" by Dylan Thomas, but then I realized that was a lot of rhyming and I got lazy.
Killin’ Momma
Finish your ciggy quickly
I originally wrote, "Chug that soda down quickly". I wanted to refer to the health/excess crisis that's going on. I figured "ciggy" would be better, because it's also something ridiculously unhealthy we do but it also contributes more directly to air pollution.
Because trouble is brewin’.
Too long we’ve ignored things.
Momma’s done playin’.
"Momma" refers to Mother Nature.
She gave us our chance
But all we did was waste it.
Now momma’s real mad.
She’s angry, throwing a fit.
She’s hangin’ us out to dry
Takin’ away what was ours.
The two lines above are meant to refer to global warming, how dry areas are drying further and how we're losing access to what we think of as human rights (e.g. less water, etc.)
You can deny it all you want
From your tall white towers,
Tall White Towers refers to politicians and others who deny the evidence of climate change.
But you can’t deny the truth.
Momma’s flipped and I’m glad.
She’s raging and crying.
This is a loose reference to forest fires and floods. I doubt anyone could catch that reference without me explaining it.
Turns out the she isn’t just a fad.
As her gaunt children stare
"Gaunt children" are a reference to the starving children who are being affected by the environmental crisis.
We’ll bluster and reject.
Hide the evidence behind deceit
While everything gets wrecked.
We’ll give her bandaids while
The wounds underneath fester,
The above two lines refer to the bandaid solutions that governments put into effect as a PR stunt rather than making long lasting changes. I was originally going to make a reference to "stop gaps," but I was worried that I wouldn't use the word in the right context. Plus "bandaids" seemed to fit with the tone of the speaker better.
Say that it just needs time,
That things will get better.
Even as her limbs wither
And our hearts start the shrivel,
The line above has two connotations. As the Earth dies (her limbs wither), we're also killing ourselves. But also, by ignoring the Earth's predicament in favour of our own wealth/convenience, we're killing our own souls ("our hearts start to shrivel").
We’ll ignore the symptoms
Saying that it’s naught but drivel.
And as we die with her they’ll rage
“She didn’t tell us, she didn’t say!”
They’ll get silence because
Momma we did slay.
Because trouble is brewin’.
Too long we’ve ignored things.
Momma’s done playin’.
She gave us our chance
But all we did was waste it.
Now momma’s real mad.
She’s angry, throwing a fit.
She’s hangin’ us out to dry
Takin’ away what was ours.
You can deny it all you want
From your tall white towers,
But you can’t deny the truth.
Momma’s flipped and I’m glad.
She’s raging and crying.
Turns out the she isn’t just a fad.
As her gaunt children stare
We’ll bluster and reject.
Hide the evidence behind deceit
While everything gets wrecked.
We’ll give her bandaids while
The wounds underneath fester,
Say that it just needs time,
That things will get better.
Even as her limbs wither
And our hearts start the shrivel,
We’ll ignore the symptoms
Saying that it’s naught but drivel.
As we die with her they’ll rage
“She didn’t tell us, she didn’t say!”
They’ll get silence because
Momma we did slay.
Okay, if you need this one spelled out for you, it's about the environmental crisis. Below is a couple of explanations as to why I wrote what I did. Oh, and the rhyming pattern is ABCB. I was originally going to try to make this topic into a parody of "Do Not Go Gentle Into that Good Night" by Dylan Thomas, but then I realized that was a lot of rhyming and I got lazy.
Killin’ Momma
Finish your ciggy quickly
I originally wrote, "Chug that soda down quickly". I wanted to refer to the health/excess crisis that's going on. I figured "ciggy" would be better, because it's also something ridiculously unhealthy we do but it also contributes more directly to air pollution.
Because trouble is brewin’.
Too long we’ve ignored things.
Momma’s done playin’.
"Momma" refers to Mother Nature.
She gave us our chance
But all we did was waste it.
Now momma’s real mad.
She’s angry, throwing a fit.
She’s hangin’ us out to dry
Takin’ away what was ours.
The two lines above are meant to refer to global warming, how dry areas are drying further and how we're losing access to what we think of as human rights (e.g. less water, etc.)
You can deny it all you want
From your tall white towers,
Tall White Towers refers to politicians and others who deny the evidence of climate change.
But you can’t deny the truth.
Momma’s flipped and I’m glad.
She’s raging and crying.
This is a loose reference to forest fires and floods. I doubt anyone could catch that reference without me explaining it.
Turns out the she isn’t just a fad.
As her gaunt children stare
"Gaunt children" are a reference to the starving children who are being affected by the environmental crisis.
We’ll bluster and reject.
Hide the evidence behind deceit
While everything gets wrecked.
We’ll give her bandaids while
The wounds underneath fester,
The above two lines refer to the bandaid solutions that governments put into effect as a PR stunt rather than making long lasting changes. I was originally going to make a reference to "stop gaps," but I was worried that I wouldn't use the word in the right context. Plus "bandaids" seemed to fit with the tone of the speaker better.
Say that it just needs time,
That things will get better.
Even as her limbs wither
And our hearts start the shrivel,
The line above has two connotations. As the Earth dies (her limbs wither), we're also killing ourselves. But also, by ignoring the Earth's predicament in favour of our own wealth/convenience, we're killing our own souls ("our hearts start to shrivel").
We’ll ignore the symptoms
Saying that it’s naught but drivel.
And as we die with her they’ll rage
“She didn’t tell us, she didn’t say!”
They’ll get silence because
Momma we did slay.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Tiny aggravations
For the most part I have no problem navigating Montreal or doing things here. But once in awhile I do have issues with my new French speaking province.
The first main difficulty was when I finally received my computer at work. Let me start by griping about my French keyboard. I was so lost when I first received it. I spent my first week typing haltingly. I'd be typing along merrily but when it came to punctuation I'd be jerked to a stop. There's a lot more punctuation/accents in French, so there are extra keys (e.g. I have an "Alternate Character" button to the right of the space bar). These extra keys have displaced my normal punctuation keys. For example, the @ symbol can only be inserted via "Alt-char+2." My quotation punctuation is shift+2, question mark is shift+6, etc. And don't even get me on the # sign. That's one I still have to search for even after a month.
The new keyboard wouldn't have been so bad except that I had to learn now only where to find the new key placements, but I also had to learn how to type quickly with them. I'm not used to that Alt-char button. So I still have issues typing fast because I have to remove my whole right hand in order to reach down and hit it. I feel like I need to take some French keyboarding lessons. And now that I've gotten used to typing in French, it's a pain to go home and type on my English keyboard. I keep having to correct my grammar. I think I might just give up and change my keyboard settings to French.
Another computer issue I have is with the actual programs. I asked for the French operating system and French programs because I figured it would be good practice. Other than some confusion trying to figure out what certain links mean, I can navigate them with little to no confusion. The problem I have now is that all the keyboard short cuts that I know are no longer valid! E.g. I can no longer click ctrl+b to make something bold. Instead I have to hit ctrl+g, G standing for "gras." Do you think I can remember things like this? Nope.
I also have problems using Excel now because all my formulas have to be in French! I couldn't for the figure out why my "concatenate" formula wasn't working the one day (I had typed it out manually and the French error message didn't help at all). It wasn't until I went through the automatic formula creator did I realize that the "concatenate" formula didn't exist. Instead I had to use "concatener." Whoops.
Surfing the internet is also a veritable pain. Why? Because computers are too nosy and smart for their own good. Google detects that I'm using a French computer, so it returns French websites only. I have to rewrite my search to make it obvious that it's an English search, or I have to switch my google preferences to English. (The latter is a pain because it eventually resets to French again.) Other websites will also automatically log me into the French language portal. I'll then spend 5 minutes hunting out the American or English versions of the webpage.
Now, all of the irritations above pale in comparison to this final one. This is the cherry on the top of my grievances with Quebec. I'm no longer eligible for many contests. Every time I see an interesting contest online I see a message, "Residents of Quebec are ineligible for this contest." No more free stuff. No more free draws. Nothing. Quebec? I think I hate you.
The first main difficulty was when I finally received my computer at work. Let me start by griping about my French keyboard. I was so lost when I first received it. I spent my first week typing haltingly. I'd be typing along merrily but when it came to punctuation I'd be jerked to a stop. There's a lot more punctuation/accents in French, so there are extra keys (e.g. I have an "Alternate Character" button to the right of the space bar). These extra keys have displaced my normal punctuation keys. For example, the @ symbol can only be inserted via "Alt-char+2." My quotation punctuation is shift+2, question mark is shift+6, etc. And don't even get me on the # sign. That's one I still have to search for even after a month.
The new keyboard wouldn't have been so bad except that I had to learn now only where to find the new key placements, but I also had to learn how to type quickly with them. I'm not used to that Alt-char button. So I still have issues typing fast because I have to remove my whole right hand in order to reach down and hit it. I feel like I need to take some French keyboarding lessons. And now that I've gotten used to typing in French, it's a pain to go home and type on my English keyboard. I keep having to correct my grammar. I think I might just give up and change my keyboard settings to French.
Another computer issue I have is with the actual programs. I asked for the French operating system and French programs because I figured it would be good practice. Other than some confusion trying to figure out what certain links mean, I can navigate them with little to no confusion. The problem I have now is that all the keyboard short cuts that I know are no longer valid! E.g. I can no longer click ctrl+b to make something bold. Instead I have to hit ctrl+g, G standing for "gras." Do you think I can remember things like this? Nope.
I also have problems using Excel now because all my formulas have to be in French! I couldn't for the figure out why my "concatenate" formula wasn't working the one day (I had typed it out manually and the French error message didn't help at all). It wasn't until I went through the automatic formula creator did I realize that the "concatenate" formula didn't exist. Instead I had to use "concatener." Whoops.
Surfing the internet is also a veritable pain. Why? Because computers are too nosy and smart for their own good. Google detects that I'm using a French computer, so it returns French websites only. I have to rewrite my search to make it obvious that it's an English search, or I have to switch my google preferences to English. (The latter is a pain because it eventually resets to French again.) Other websites will also automatically log me into the French language portal. I'll then spend 5 minutes hunting out the American or English versions of the webpage.
Now, all of the irritations above pale in comparison to this final one. This is the cherry on the top of my grievances with Quebec. I'm no longer eligible for many contests. Every time I see an interesting contest online I see a message, "Residents of Quebec are ineligible for this contest." No more free stuff. No more free draws. Nothing. Quebec? I think I hate you.
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
More zombies
As mentioned in my last post, I felt that that life needed more zombies in it. Well, I got my wish. On Sunday I went and saw the new "Zombieland" movie. I haven't laughed so hard in such a long time. I have to admit, the movie made me a bit queasy at the start because of the copious amounts of blood flying - err, oozing - around.
It wasn't uplifting, nor did it try to portray a realistic look at how humanity coped with a sudden surge of zombies. Nope. Instead it gave random rules on how to survive a zombie attack. Rule #1: Cardio.
Perhaps the sudden influx of zombie-ism in my life has begun to affect me. Of late I'm having a harder time than normal staying asleep at night. Note that I say that the difficulty is staying asleep. I have no (or little) problem falling asleep, but I wake up multiple times every night for no apparent reason.
My room is dark. My neighborhood is quiet. Sometimes I wake up hot. the next time I wake up freezing. Sometimes I wake up thirsty. And then I wake up 30 minutes before my alarm clock. I go to bed at roughly the same time each night and usually just read before I go to sleep. I don't drink coffee or any caffeinated beverages so I can't blame caffeine. Likewise I don't have anything high in sugar before bed, so I'm not suffering from a sugar rush.
All in all I'm quite mystified as to why I keep waking up. I also seem to go through cycles - some weeks I have no problems, other weeks I wake up at least once a night. It's quite infuriating. Normally I can handle waking up once a night. It's mainly the those cursed 30 minutes before the alarm are always such a pain. I don't get why I consistently wake up earlier. I understand that it might have happened when I first started work - you know, being paranoid of missing my alarm or something, but I actually have two alarms in my room (something I had to start doing in university, or I'd never make it to my classes on time). I have the one beside my bed, and then I have my cell phone set as an alarm clock on the other side of the room. That way I at least have to drag myself out of bed if I fail to answer the first.
Can anyone else offer suggestions on how I can go to sleep and STAY asleep? I'm really tired (pun unintended) of this jerking awake thing.
It wasn't uplifting, nor did it try to portray a realistic look at how humanity coped with a sudden surge of zombies. Nope. Instead it gave random rules on how to survive a zombie attack. Rule #1: Cardio.
Perhaps the sudden influx of zombie-ism in my life has begun to affect me. Of late I'm having a harder time than normal staying asleep at night. Note that I say that the difficulty is staying asleep. I have no (or little) problem falling asleep, but I wake up multiple times every night for no apparent reason.
My room is dark. My neighborhood is quiet. Sometimes I wake up hot. the next time I wake up freezing. Sometimes I wake up thirsty. And then I wake up 30 minutes before my alarm clock. I go to bed at roughly the same time each night and usually just read before I go to sleep. I don't drink coffee or any caffeinated beverages so I can't blame caffeine. Likewise I don't have anything high in sugar before bed, so I'm not suffering from a sugar rush.
All in all I'm quite mystified as to why I keep waking up. I also seem to go through cycles - some weeks I have no problems, other weeks I wake up at least once a night. It's quite infuriating. Normally I can handle waking up once a night. It's mainly the those cursed 30 minutes before the alarm are always such a pain. I don't get why I consistently wake up earlier. I understand that it might have happened when I first started work - you know, being paranoid of missing my alarm or something, but I actually have two alarms in my room (something I had to start doing in university, or I'd never make it to my classes on time). I have the one beside my bed, and then I have my cell phone set as an alarm clock on the other side of the room. That way I at least have to drag myself out of bed if I fail to answer the first.
Can anyone else offer suggestions on how I can go to sleep and STAY asleep? I'm really tired (pun unintended) of this jerking awake thing.
Friday, October 16, 2009
The world needs more zombies
I recently bought the book, "Pride and Prejudice and Zombies" by Seth Grahame-Smith. It's a parody of Jane Austen's "Pride and Prejudice." I heard a lot of people talking about and every time I went into the bookstore, the cover art called to me.
I haven't finished the book yet but I am absolutely enthralled with it so far. Mr Grahame-Smith had such a brilliant concept when he penned this novel. The novel is so similar to the original book that it's difficult to describe the differences. It has the exact same story, but with zombies! This means that it often has the exact same dialogue, but there are some expanded scenes or tweaks to the wording. The world in the book is the same as before, but now there are zombies running amuck and everyone reacts to them with varying degrees of politeness or terror.
Despite the changes he made to the original story, his own changes fit right into the Elizabethan dialogue and descriptions. Despite their willingness to disembowel a man for the sake of honour, Elizabeth and her sisters are exquisitely polite and mindful of their manners in other ways. The outré statements some characters make are funnier due to the naturalness of their saying it. E.g. When Elizabeth's aunt and uncle invite her on a summer trip on the countryside she breaks into raptures about how fun it will be to do some mountaintop sparring and bringing down bucks with nothing but an ankle dagger. It's such a mind-boggling concept that the character thinks nothing of.
I'm enjoying it so much that I already plan to get another similar book entitled "Sense and Sensibility and Seamonsters." I've never read Sense and Sensibility but I fully expect to like it as much as any other classic romance novel. Both Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and Sense and Sensibility and Seamonsters have both signed movie deals. I can assure you that I'll be seeing them in theatres.
I haven't finished the book yet but I am absolutely enthralled with it so far. Mr Grahame-Smith had such a brilliant concept when he penned this novel. The novel is so similar to the original book that it's difficult to describe the differences. It has the exact same story, but with zombies! This means that it often has the exact same dialogue, but there are some expanded scenes or tweaks to the wording. The world in the book is the same as before, but now there are zombies running amuck and everyone reacts to them with varying degrees of politeness or terror.
Despite the changes he made to the original story, his own changes fit right into the Elizabethan dialogue and descriptions. Despite their willingness to disembowel a man for the sake of honour, Elizabeth and her sisters are exquisitely polite and mindful of their manners in other ways. The outré statements some characters make are funnier due to the naturalness of their saying it. E.g. When Elizabeth's aunt and uncle invite her on a summer trip on the countryside she breaks into raptures about how fun it will be to do some mountaintop sparring and bringing down bucks with nothing but an ankle dagger. It's such a mind-boggling concept that the character thinks nothing of.
I'm enjoying it so much that I already plan to get another similar book entitled "Sense and Sensibility and Seamonsters." I've never read Sense and Sensibility but I fully expect to like it as much as any other classic romance novel. Both Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and Sense and Sensibility and Seamonsters have both signed movie deals. I can assure you that I'll be seeing them in theatres.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Happy Turkey Day!
I had a terrific long weekend! It was relaxing and fun all wrapped in one.
I started off Friday night by making alfredo sauce from scratch. I've only had alfredo a few times before (usually as part of the pre-packaged frozen Skillet Sensations dinners) but I was seized by the urge to make it. After a slight hiccup at the grocery store (I couldn't find the heavy cream needed for the sauce - instead I found English Cream, Whipping Cream, Table Cream, Cooking Cream, Coffee Cream... Every cream EXCEPT for Heavy Cream) I nabbed all my ingredients (and a bottle of wine) and went home.
The sauce turned out surprisingly well. I ended up using Cooking Cream (with 35% fat). I added a lot more garlic to the sauce than called for, and I also added salt and pepper because it was looking really bland. I'm glad I did. I fried up some veggies (carrots, zucchini and peas) to serve on top of my pasta and it was divine!
The next day I started the day off with a jog and just puttered around my apartment for the morning/afternoon. That evening I had agreed to go out for a Chinese buffet to celebrate Double-10 Day. Apparently it's Taiwan's National Day. I had a terrific time at the dinner - there were 4 other women and we had a ball chatting and stuffing ourselves. It was a nice change because since I moved to Montreal, I've been hanging around with mostly guys, so it was delightful getting a dose of estrogen. I was amazed at the one Chinese girl who joined us - she at SO MUCH! My stomach hurt just watching her. That being said, it was also a pleasure watching her - there's nothing more infuriating than going to a buffet and have someone just nibble here and there and making you feel self-conscious about eating. Well, this certainly was not the case for our group. We ate. And ate. And ate some more.
The next day I went to Old Montreal to go for a walking tour organized by one of the members of Meetin.org. It was really interesting! And it was just a nice change to go to Old Montreal and not look at the same buildings - we took some different routes than I normally take, and I got to learn both some modern and old history (including architectural laws from the 1900s on how to build "sky scrapers", and why old row houses were built the way they were.). The only problem with the walk was the bitter wind that was whistling around. I had to take off my big dangling earrings because they were flapping around in the wind so much. And my Chinese friend (the one I met last night and who decided to blow off a date in order to come to the walk instead) was freeeeezing. She only had a light jacket and no gloves. Yikes!
After the walk I signed up for a movie membership at Club Videotron and rented some films. The plan was to make some homemade cannelloni for dinner and indulge in some more wine. Well. Not only did I make cannelloni, but I also whipped up a caesar salad (with some homemade croutons!) and while I was baking the pasta, I also decided to whip up a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I was a veritable domestic goddess!
While enjoying the fruits of my labour I started watching the first of my movies. I rented "My Life in Ruins." It was a cute movie, not excellent, but amusing. It's a bit of a shame because the woman's first movie ("My Big Fat Greek Wedding") was so amazing. This one was full of clichés, stereotypes, and bad dialogue. It had so much potential but flopped. My favourite part of the movie was the portrayal of Canadians. :) We're such a cute nation!
Yesterday morning I forced myself to go for another jog again. I like my neighborhood jogs because I get to see all the side streets and learn the street names. Well, this time I learned to not try to jog on Cote St-Luc again. Ugh. Uphill. With no side streets to go down. Yup. Definitely avoiding that street again.
After cleaning myself up and having some lunch I forced myself to go out shopping. (It was nearly 1PM and I was rapidly losing incentive to go out.) I'm happy that I did go out though because I managed to buy 2 new pairs of pants (I recently admitted to myself that my last pair of black dress pants were too worn out to wear to work anymore). An even happier event was that I successfully got $50 back from a coat I bought last week! (I bought the jacket last week at regular price, but this week there was a 25% sale on it.) I then managed to postpone buying a cute pair of heeled boots I found and wandered around Walmart instead.
Now by yesterday evening all my incentive too cook deserted me, so I just had grilled cheese sandwiches and wine. I watched my second movie, "Fighting." It wasn't a bad movie, but again, the plot wasn't very well developed, the romance aspect was very poor, and you couldn't really sympathic with most of the characters. The only good thing about it was Channing Tatum. He's cute.
And thus ended my weekend. It was just really great and I enjoyed getting out and about!
I started off Friday night by making alfredo sauce from scratch. I've only had alfredo a few times before (usually as part of the pre-packaged frozen Skillet Sensations dinners) but I was seized by the urge to make it. After a slight hiccup at the grocery store (I couldn't find the heavy cream needed for the sauce - instead I found English Cream, Whipping Cream, Table Cream, Cooking Cream, Coffee Cream... Every cream EXCEPT for Heavy Cream) I nabbed all my ingredients (and a bottle of wine) and went home.
The sauce turned out surprisingly well. I ended up using Cooking Cream (with 35% fat). I added a lot more garlic to the sauce than called for, and I also added salt and pepper because it was looking really bland. I'm glad I did. I fried up some veggies (carrots, zucchini and peas) to serve on top of my pasta and it was divine!
The next day I started the day off with a jog and just puttered around my apartment for the morning/afternoon. That evening I had agreed to go out for a Chinese buffet to celebrate Double-10 Day. Apparently it's Taiwan's National Day. I had a terrific time at the dinner - there were 4 other women and we had a ball chatting and stuffing ourselves. It was a nice change because since I moved to Montreal, I've been hanging around with mostly guys, so it was delightful getting a dose of estrogen. I was amazed at the one Chinese girl who joined us - she at SO MUCH! My stomach hurt just watching her. That being said, it was also a pleasure watching her - there's nothing more infuriating than going to a buffet and have someone just nibble here and there and making you feel self-conscious about eating. Well, this certainly was not the case for our group. We ate. And ate. And ate some more.
The next day I went to Old Montreal to go for a walking tour organized by one of the members of Meetin.org. It was really interesting! And it was just a nice change to go to Old Montreal and not look at the same buildings - we took some different routes than I normally take, and I got to learn both some modern and old history (including architectural laws from the 1900s on how to build "sky scrapers", and why old row houses were built the way they were.). The only problem with the walk was the bitter wind that was whistling around. I had to take off my big dangling earrings because they were flapping around in the wind so much. And my Chinese friend (the one I met last night and who decided to blow off a date in order to come to the walk instead) was freeeeezing. She only had a light jacket and no gloves. Yikes!
After the walk I signed up for a movie membership at Club Videotron and rented some films. The plan was to make some homemade cannelloni for dinner and indulge in some more wine. Well. Not only did I make cannelloni, but I also whipped up a caesar salad (with some homemade croutons!) and while I was baking the pasta, I also decided to whip up a batch of chocolate chip cookies. I was a veritable domestic goddess!
While enjoying the fruits of my labour I started watching the first of my movies. I rented "My Life in Ruins." It was a cute movie, not excellent, but amusing. It's a bit of a shame because the woman's first movie ("My Big Fat Greek Wedding") was so amazing. This one was full of clichés, stereotypes, and bad dialogue. It had so much potential but flopped. My favourite part of the movie was the portrayal of Canadians. :) We're such a cute nation!
Yesterday morning I forced myself to go for another jog again. I like my neighborhood jogs because I get to see all the side streets and learn the street names. Well, this time I learned to not try to jog on Cote St-Luc again. Ugh. Uphill. With no side streets to go down. Yup. Definitely avoiding that street again.
After cleaning myself up and having some lunch I forced myself to go out shopping. (It was nearly 1PM and I was rapidly losing incentive to go out.) I'm happy that I did go out though because I managed to buy 2 new pairs of pants (I recently admitted to myself that my last pair of black dress pants were too worn out to wear to work anymore). An even happier event was that I successfully got $50 back from a coat I bought last week! (I bought the jacket last week at regular price, but this week there was a 25% sale on it.) I then managed to postpone buying a cute pair of heeled boots I found and wandered around Walmart instead.
Now by yesterday evening all my incentive too cook deserted me, so I just had grilled cheese sandwiches and wine. I watched my second movie, "Fighting." It wasn't a bad movie, but again, the plot wasn't very well developed, the romance aspect was very poor, and you couldn't really sympathic with most of the characters. The only good thing about it was Channing Tatum. He's cute.
And thus ended my weekend. It was just really great and I enjoyed getting out and about!
Monday, October 05, 2009
Yahoos asking questions
I've become addicted to Yahoo Answers (answers.yahoo.com). It's a great site - you can ask questions to the entire public about anything and people can answer back. The topics vary from books to cooking to relationship advice. The system operates on points (ask a question -5 points, answer a question +2 points, etc.).
Some questions are fun, some are lazy, some are strange, and some are just mind-boggling.
The lazy questions are most often posted by students who are essentially asking people to do their homework for them. I have to admit, I'm bothered by these kinds of questions. The kids are cheating, and people are helping them do it. I've answered a few questions where students have asked for help, but I've always tried to do it in a way that makes the kid think about the answer. So when I see students getting help from random strangers, it bugs me because they're not thinking for themselves.
The mind-boggling questions bother me in that the show how ignorant people can be. Often, I see these questions in the Pregnancy or medical categories of the site. It seems like there are so many teenagers asking "Gee, I did this and this in bed, could I have gotten pregnant?" When I read those I just want to slam my head on my desk. I get that the US promotes abstinence, but come on! Wikipedia can teach you about safe sex! Go! Educate yourselves! I also hate the questions where people list their symptoms and say, "What disease do I have?" I mean, would you trust a random stranger on the street to diagnose you? No? Then why would you trust a random stranger on the internet? It's just encouraging a whole generation of hypochondriacs.
Since the majority of the users are obviously American (with a dash of Europeans, Canucks, and Aussies) I'm dismayed by the lack of thought that goes into them. Is this an example of the general thought process of an American? Or is it just that all the stupid people are congregating in one area?
Despite all this ranting and raving I will continue to use and stalk the site. It is fun to find questions that ask, "In Canada, where do polar bears sit on the bus?" or "What's making you happy today?" It's also great to find cooking tips or suggestions on books to read. And in general, it's just fascinating to find out what's important to different people.
Some questions are fun, some are lazy, some are strange, and some are just mind-boggling.
The lazy questions are most often posted by students who are essentially asking people to do their homework for them. I have to admit, I'm bothered by these kinds of questions. The kids are cheating, and people are helping them do it. I've answered a few questions where students have asked for help, but I've always tried to do it in a way that makes the kid think about the answer. So when I see students getting help from random strangers, it bugs me because they're not thinking for themselves.
The mind-boggling questions bother me in that the show how ignorant people can be. Often, I see these questions in the Pregnancy or medical categories of the site. It seems like there are so many teenagers asking "Gee, I did this and this in bed, could I have gotten pregnant?" When I read those I just want to slam my head on my desk. I get that the US promotes abstinence, but come on! Wikipedia can teach you about safe sex! Go! Educate yourselves! I also hate the questions where people list their symptoms and say, "What disease do I have?" I mean, would you trust a random stranger on the street to diagnose you? No? Then why would you trust a random stranger on the internet? It's just encouraging a whole generation of hypochondriacs.
Since the majority of the users are obviously American (with a dash of Europeans, Canucks, and Aussies) I'm dismayed by the lack of thought that goes into them. Is this an example of the general thought process of an American? Or is it just that all the stupid people are congregating in one area?
Despite all this ranting and raving I will continue to use and stalk the site. It is fun to find questions that ask, "In Canada, where do polar bears sit on the bus?" or "What's making you happy today?" It's also great to find cooking tips or suggestions on books to read. And in general, it's just fascinating to find out what's important to different people.
Inter-generational B-Ball
After taking stock of yesterday's basketball games, I can't help but feel old. Kind of. Not really.
Thierry, Farid and I were playing basketball for about an hour when we suddenly decided to ask two kids who were on another court to join us. So the kids and I teamed up against Thierry and Farid. Despite being 3 vs. 2 we still got our butts kicked.
The kids left and then another group of kids who were probably 13 or 14ish came over and asked if they could play. (They were just hanging around the park, waiting for their football game to start.) Of course we said yes and then proceeded to get our butts kicked.
Now, to save my pride I should first mention that with the first 2 kids, I was paired up with 2 scrawny Asian kids. I mean, come on. Me with 2 short kids vs. Thierry and Farid who have long mutant arms and springs in their calves? Not a hope in hell. With the second group, I attribute our loss to the fact that we had been playing for an hour and a half while they were still fresh. And we later realized that they were subbing new players in randomly. So they were literally running circles around us.
I'd feel older but the kids were so immature that it's not so bad. But this is also the first time I've interacted with high school kids (my niece excepted) since well, high school! It wasn't until after the games were over that I realized just how much younger they probably were. And I think part of the difficulty of pegging down their age stemmed from their looks and behaviour.
One kid had his head shaved with little designs in the stubble. To me, I've always pictured that style as being older or belonging on a gang member of something (forgive my stereotyping). So seeing it on a kid (he also had a stud in one ear) was disconcerting. It was the same with the way they talked. They were cursing and swearing a streak on the court, razzing each other and us. It was funny to listen to, but it's certainly not how I remember talking when I was that age.
Their attitude was also funny. When they first asked to join we were trying to figure out how to even up the teams (since we only had 3 members on our team we needed to draft some of their friends but it was going to be an uneven number no matter what). I didn't catch the full remark but I overheard the one kid telling his friends, "... Well we can't kick the girl out!" I was taken aback by that. I haven't dealth with the whole school-yard "girls vs. boys" issues since the school yard! I was amused to realize that it was even an issue for them.
I did get my revenge later though when I surprised the one kid with some crazy defence skills of my own. Of course, keeping up and blocking him used up the last of my energy and left me gasping my way back and forth on the court.
Overall though it was a great day on the courts. I had a good workout. And it made me feel even better to later realize that I've lost 5 pounds without realizing it! Yay me!
Thierry, Farid and I were playing basketball for about an hour when we suddenly decided to ask two kids who were on another court to join us. So the kids and I teamed up against Thierry and Farid. Despite being 3 vs. 2 we still got our butts kicked.
The kids left and then another group of kids who were probably 13 or 14ish came over and asked if they could play. (They were just hanging around the park, waiting for their football game to start.) Of course we said yes and then proceeded to get our butts kicked.
Now, to save my pride I should first mention that with the first 2 kids, I was paired up with 2 scrawny Asian kids. I mean, come on. Me with 2 short kids vs. Thierry and Farid who have long mutant arms and springs in their calves? Not a hope in hell. With the second group, I attribute our loss to the fact that we had been playing for an hour and a half while they were still fresh. And we later realized that they were subbing new players in randomly. So they were literally running circles around us.
I'd feel older but the kids were so immature that it's not so bad. But this is also the first time I've interacted with high school kids (my niece excepted) since well, high school! It wasn't until after the games were over that I realized just how much younger they probably were. And I think part of the difficulty of pegging down their age stemmed from their looks and behaviour.
One kid had his head shaved with little designs in the stubble. To me, I've always pictured that style as being older or belonging on a gang member of something (forgive my stereotyping). So seeing it on a kid (he also had a stud in one ear) was disconcerting. It was the same with the way they talked. They were cursing and swearing a streak on the court, razzing each other and us. It was funny to listen to, but it's certainly not how I remember talking when I was that age.
Their attitude was also funny. When they first asked to join we were trying to figure out how to even up the teams (since we only had 3 members on our team we needed to draft some of their friends but it was going to be an uneven number no matter what). I didn't catch the full remark but I overheard the one kid telling his friends, "... Well we can't kick the girl out!" I was taken aback by that. I haven't dealth with the whole school-yard "girls vs. boys" issues since the school yard! I was amused to realize that it was even an issue for them.
I did get my revenge later though when I surprised the one kid with some crazy defence skills of my own. Of course, keeping up and blocking him used up the last of my energy and left me gasping my way back and forth on the court.
Overall though it was a great day on the courts. I had a good workout. And it made me feel even better to later realize that I've lost 5 pounds without realizing it! Yay me!
Friday, October 02, 2009
Donating blood
My family prides itself on being tough. We always joke about the wimps who can't stand seeing blood on TV. Our byline in the house was, "Suck it up!" If we weren't feeling well my mother would tell my sisters and I to either gargle with salt water, have a hot chocolate, or take a tylenol (those were her miracle cures; I could have had a broken leg and she'd tell me to gargle with salt water).
Well, I let the family down this week. You see, in our house it was a rule when you were 17 that you had to start donating blood. (Okay, so it wasn't strictly enforced - but we were strongly encouraged to donate when we could.) I've donated at least 7 times in the past. Unfortunately for me donating was a bit more of a pain because apparently I have tiny veins. The nurses always have trouble finding one, and then it takes me about twice as long to donate as other people just because it takes so long for the blood to flow. And to encourage faster blood flow, they give me something to squeeze and release, squeeze and release, etc. so by the end of my donation, my arm is aching where the needle is poking out.
Twice while I was in university I even had a bit of a fainting spell after donating. (I never actually fainted, but the room would start to brighten and/or darken and I'd have to lay back down for another 15 minutes. Usually these were caused by my own stupid fault for not eating properly or because it was really hot outside.
Well, I'll admit that I've been a slacker over the past year and a half. While in Ottawa and Owen Sound I just didn't think of donating, and then when I was in Toronto I was always too hungry after work to even contemplating donating (and from my fainting spells I learned not to try to donate without eating first). So when Héma-Quebec (the Quebec equivalent to the Canadian Blood Services) started an ad campaign promoting blood donation, I felt obligated to go.
So on Wednesday I trooped over to the local blood drive being held at the Université de Québec à Montréal and managed to wrangle my way through the registration process. (I like the Quebec system a bit better - maybe it was because the nurses had to slow down to speak in English, but it felt less rushed and more personable than in Ontario.) I was a bit nervous - it had been a long time since I last donated of course - I wasn't looking forward to the extended unpleasant ache that I mentioned before.
But the moment I sat down in the cot, my nervousness level jumped up. I tried to focus on the posters and other university decorations, but I also watched the nurse. She couldn't find my vein. She tried both arms and finally settled on the left because she could very faintly feel it. So she finally stuck the needle in... But there was no blood. Now, the moment the needle entered me, my uncomfortableness started ratcheting up again just from the memories of my other bad donation episodes. She didn't dig the needle around, she didn't twist or do anything, she just gently moved it in place, etc. I couldn't even feel it moving... But knowing that it was there was freaking me out.
Throughout it all she kept asking if I was okay, did I want to stop, etc. I kept reassuring her that I'd be okay once we got started. Well, five minutes later she still couldn't find the vein. She asked if I wanted to give up, or if I was willing to try the other arm (and she promised that she'd get another nurse to try instead of her). I told her that sure, she could try the other arm. However, in the few seconds that it took her to get the needle out, I could tell that the room was alternately becoming brighter and darker - oops, I recognize this feeling! I'm going to pass out! I hastily tell her that no, I can't donate today afterall. I guess I was whiter than I realized, because she didn't seem surprised when I backed out. (I suspect that I had turned white the moment I sat down - I was just too stubborn to admit how nervous I was!)
I ended up having to sit in a "recovery" cot for 5 minutes even though I didn't donate (it was their requirement). And after that, I was forced to go to the refreshment table, and sadly I'll admit that having juice and a granola bar did wonders to restore me to my senses. (The whole ordeal reminds me of when I got my nose pierced - you're so nervous that you have to go get a bite to eat to raise your blood sugar levels to fight the shock you kind of go into.)
So I feel like an utter wimp and failure because I started to pass out before I even donated blood! Granted, I did sit there for 5 minutes with the needle stuck in my arm, but still! Even just sitting here and typing this memory is making my left arm ache. I honestly don't know if I'll be able to donate blood again. I'd like to think that I'll make the effort, but I'm so nervous that I'll have an episode like this again. So we'll see what happens. I think I'll try donating again... But I might have to bring along some moral support next time - if only to distract me from what's going on. At least I can take comfort in knowing that I have donated in the past. That I have made more of a difference than someone who has never given blood.
Well, I let the family down this week. You see, in our house it was a rule when you were 17 that you had to start donating blood. (Okay, so it wasn't strictly enforced - but we were strongly encouraged to donate when we could.) I've donated at least 7 times in the past. Unfortunately for me donating was a bit more of a pain because apparently I have tiny veins. The nurses always have trouble finding one, and then it takes me about twice as long to donate as other people just because it takes so long for the blood to flow. And to encourage faster blood flow, they give me something to squeeze and release, squeeze and release, etc. so by the end of my donation, my arm is aching where the needle is poking out.
Twice while I was in university I even had a bit of a fainting spell after donating. (I never actually fainted, but the room would start to brighten and/or darken and I'd have to lay back down for another 15 minutes. Usually these were caused by my own stupid fault for not eating properly or because it was really hot outside.
Well, I'll admit that I've been a slacker over the past year and a half. While in Ottawa and Owen Sound I just didn't think of donating, and then when I was in Toronto I was always too hungry after work to even contemplating donating (and from my fainting spells I learned not to try to donate without eating first). So when Héma-Quebec (the Quebec equivalent to the Canadian Blood Services) started an ad campaign promoting blood donation, I felt obligated to go.
So on Wednesday I trooped over to the local blood drive being held at the Université de Québec à Montréal and managed to wrangle my way through the registration process. (I like the Quebec system a bit better - maybe it was because the nurses had to slow down to speak in English, but it felt less rushed and more personable than in Ontario.) I was a bit nervous - it had been a long time since I last donated of course - I wasn't looking forward to the extended unpleasant ache that I mentioned before.
But the moment I sat down in the cot, my nervousness level jumped up. I tried to focus on the posters and other university decorations, but I also watched the nurse. She couldn't find my vein. She tried both arms and finally settled on the left because she could very faintly feel it. So she finally stuck the needle in... But there was no blood. Now, the moment the needle entered me, my uncomfortableness started ratcheting up again just from the memories of my other bad donation episodes. She didn't dig the needle around, she didn't twist or do anything, she just gently moved it in place, etc. I couldn't even feel it moving... But knowing that it was there was freaking me out.
Throughout it all she kept asking if I was okay, did I want to stop, etc. I kept reassuring her that I'd be okay once we got started. Well, five minutes later she still couldn't find the vein. She asked if I wanted to give up, or if I was willing to try the other arm (and she promised that she'd get another nurse to try instead of her). I told her that sure, she could try the other arm. However, in the few seconds that it took her to get the needle out, I could tell that the room was alternately becoming brighter and darker - oops, I recognize this feeling! I'm going to pass out! I hastily tell her that no, I can't donate today afterall. I guess I was whiter than I realized, because she didn't seem surprised when I backed out. (I suspect that I had turned white the moment I sat down - I was just too stubborn to admit how nervous I was!)
I ended up having to sit in a "recovery" cot for 5 minutes even though I didn't donate (it was their requirement). And after that, I was forced to go to the refreshment table, and sadly I'll admit that having juice and a granola bar did wonders to restore me to my senses. (The whole ordeal reminds me of when I got my nose pierced - you're so nervous that you have to go get a bite to eat to raise your blood sugar levels to fight the shock you kind of go into.)
So I feel like an utter wimp and failure because I started to pass out before I even donated blood! Granted, I did sit there for 5 minutes with the needle stuck in my arm, but still! Even just sitting here and typing this memory is making my left arm ache. I honestly don't know if I'll be able to donate blood again. I'd like to think that I'll make the effort, but I'm so nervous that I'll have an episode like this again. So we'll see what happens. I think I'll try donating again... But I might have to bring along some moral support next time - if only to distract me from what's going on. At least I can take comfort in knowing that I have donated in the past. That I have made more of a difference than someone who has never given blood.
Breakfast of blah
Ugh. I've tried eating oatmeal before and never liked it. This week because of the cold, I was inspired to try it again. It was another uber-fail. How can people consume the stuff? The taste isn't bad, but the texture is grotesque! It's like eating runny eggs mixed with snot. Normally I find the taste also unappealing, but I mixed my bowl with a tablespoon of peanut butter and that alleviated its grossness, but not enough to finish the entire bowl. So dear readers, I ask you what you'd suggest as a way of trying to improve a bowl of oatmeal? Besides you know, erasing it from existence in the first place.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Email subject lines
I learned somewhere that a lot of internet advertising is tailored to the reader - whether it decides which ads to display to you based on your internet history or your personal preferences on certain websites, etc.
I wonder if spam is sent the same way. I get the generic emails asking me to buy cheap drugs or viagra, but lately I'm getting more fake pharmaceutical company emails. Since I deal with pharmaceutical companies on a semi-regular basis at work, I wonder if somehow someone caught on and is trying to lure me with emails from Pfizer, etc.
I don't know what the point I'm trying to make is, but I have to admit, I was very amused by today's spam with the subject line of "Mass geek suicide." If spam is sent in a manner meant to deliberately pique your interest, I wonder what this email said about me...
I wonder if spam is sent the same way. I get the generic emails asking me to buy cheap drugs or viagra, but lately I'm getting more fake pharmaceutical company emails. Since I deal with pharmaceutical companies on a semi-regular basis at work, I wonder if somehow someone caught on and is trying to lure me with emails from Pfizer, etc.
I don't know what the point I'm trying to make is, but I have to admit, I was very amused by today's spam with the subject line of "Mass geek suicide." If spam is sent in a manner meant to deliberately pique your interest, I wonder what this email said about me...
Poetry influx
Beware. Poetry looms on the horizon.
"Mother Summer"
Hello summer, welcome back.
You’ve been gone awhile
Leaving us to winter’s cruel rack,
But now you’re here, bringing us your sunny smile.
Pick us up, brush us off, tell us it’s okay.
Place warming kisses on our brows,
Prepare us for the coming day.
To your season we will always espouse.
And in your loving glow we’ll laze,
Lounge by lakesides, play carefree.
Try to extend your stay, elongating these long days.
But if leave you must, despite our giant plea.
Promise that next year you’ll return.
Bringing again those warm days we forever yearn.
"Help"
“Help”
I died without knowing.
I woke to find myself six feet deep.
Walls stretching high on all sides,
Sky out of reach.
Choking, panicked,
I paced my grave.
People passed above.
Some slowed but ignored me.
Others wept and left flowers,
Lamenting my departure.
I feared to call out.
What if they did not respond? Did not turn?
It would confirm my death.
As I followed my path back and forth
I realized I was slightly deeper.
My grave wasn’t a grave at all,
But a rut built over time.
Could I escape? Was it impossible?
Each familiar step merely carried me on.
Five steps forward. Five back to the start.
Deeper and deeper I dug.
Tears did not help.
They turned the dirt to mud
Sucking me deeper.
Scrabbling at the walls brought more dirt down,
Drowning me further in darkness.
Rage against my death I did
But to no avail.
I sat, leaned against root-riddled wall
And watched the living pass me by.
I yearned to join them.
To walk in sunshine once more,
On new paths with new sights.
A single word, more whispered than said
Escaped my lips.
A passerby, one whom oft left flowers heard.
I feared they would continue to their way
But without delay they stopped and extended hand.
Half-afraid, half-hopeful I grasped it.
Working together we pulled and strained
Until, in a burst of light, I found myself resurrected.
I walk among the living again.
I keep one eye on the road ahead.
But the other, the other always remains on my grave.
It follows me, ready to pull me in.
But when I feel its inexorable pull,
I cry that little word
And a dozen hands dart out,
Stabilize me and help me find my path again.
"Mother Summer"
Hello summer, welcome back.
You’ve been gone awhile
Leaving us to winter’s cruel rack,
But now you’re here, bringing us your sunny smile.
Pick us up, brush us off, tell us it’s okay.
Place warming kisses on our brows,
Prepare us for the coming day.
To your season we will always espouse.
And in your loving glow we’ll laze,
Lounge by lakesides, play carefree.
Try to extend your stay, elongating these long days.
But if leave you must, despite our giant plea.
Promise that next year you’ll return.
Bringing again those warm days we forever yearn.
"Help"
“Help”
I died without knowing.
I woke to find myself six feet deep.
Walls stretching high on all sides,
Sky out of reach.
Choking, panicked,
I paced my grave.
People passed above.
Some slowed but ignored me.
Others wept and left flowers,
Lamenting my departure.
I feared to call out.
What if they did not respond? Did not turn?
It would confirm my death.
As I followed my path back and forth
I realized I was slightly deeper.
My grave wasn’t a grave at all,
But a rut built over time.
Could I escape? Was it impossible?
Each familiar step merely carried me on.
Five steps forward. Five back to the start.
Deeper and deeper I dug.
Tears did not help.
They turned the dirt to mud
Sucking me deeper.
Scrabbling at the walls brought more dirt down,
Drowning me further in darkness.
Rage against my death I did
But to no avail.
I sat, leaned against root-riddled wall
And watched the living pass me by.
I yearned to join them.
To walk in sunshine once more,
On new paths with new sights.
A single word, more whispered than said
Escaped my lips.
A passerby, one whom oft left flowers heard.
I feared they would continue to their way
But without delay they stopped and extended hand.
Half-afraid, half-hopeful I grasped it.
Working together we pulled and strained
Until, in a burst of light, I found myself resurrected.
I walk among the living again.
I keep one eye on the road ahead.
But the other, the other always remains on my grave.
It follows me, ready to pull me in.
But when I feel its inexorable pull,
I cry that little word
And a dozen hands dart out,
Stabilize me and help me find my path again.
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