03/28/2004 - 04/04/2004
Ok, so I'm kind of all over the place lately, but it's cool to just touch base every once and a while.
I definately voted Green this time around.. I surprised myself.... normally I'd be all ndp smacking people... but nope. weird how things change.
super busy and trying to learn German from a Lonely Planet phrasebook because we're definately going in February for a tour. Who woulda thunk it? I never knew I'd ever go on tour anywhere.... geeze. I hope eine Essen ist fantastish... but I'm not too enthusiastic about bregenwurst.
but enough about brain sausage! school is getting do-able, though I also am questioning what a degree is worth to my soul anyway..... I mean I'm doing dance. If I want to be a professional, do I need a degree? No. I just need to master technique and my own artistickity, and that could take longer than four years, so f-off establishment. but I guess this will be good if I want to go to Japan and teach random things... yeah sure.. whatever. down with everything and nothing!
So I was kinda confused today because sometime without my knowledge, the Queen's University Administration has grown a pair of cojones. You may remember the Homecoming incident at my school. Well, basically the cops wanted the University to pay them $84,000 for them to buy tasers to shoot us next time. And the university told them to fuck off. Awesomeness.
I have a nice old jowley Economic History professor who laughs quite a bit at the not-very funny things he says. Here's a pretty much word for word quote from him that he was absolutely cracking up at:
"Now the economist Von Thunen had a model [laughs] where farmers are spread out and grow grain, which they bring into market on horse-drawn carts. But [laughs] you have to feed the horses grain [laughs]. Well at a certain point, it's not longer profitable to bring the grain to the city at all! [cracks up laughing]."
Oh and also, Judge Michael Martone is a hugh douche.
It has been a very long and bizarre 40 hours. It started out normal. I went to class Wednesday morning World War One class and discussed shell shock. Went to the gym and library. Took a nap at school. Went straight from school to cadets.
That's when things started to get weird.
I had to placate an irate mother whose son is being accused of making derogatory comments towards the Jewish girl who joined cadets back in November (the second accusation against him from the same girl). This mother was appalled that these allegations may ruin his chances of joining the militia. She kept spouting nonsense like "...she's ruining his good name...", "...I swear to God I will slap a slander lawsuit on her..." and my favourite "...my son would never saying anything like that to anyone...". She had worked herself into a sobbing, hyperventilating mess by the time one of the other officers rescued me.
After cadets I met my friends Stacey, Amanda and Jana at the Montreal House (MoHo) to see the Silver Hearts, a local fan favourite 7-piece country/folk/rock band who play fun songs that are wicked dancable. The MoHo is like the Ptbo version of Horseshoe Tavern: both have been around FOREVER, have dingy charm, are frequented by people as old and craggy as the bar itself, also plaid-clad hipsters. There are more fraggles at the MoHo, it's gross. I saw three of my past TAs and four former UFA students (Emily Fisher, Camille, Alex Morley, James Smith). Jana introduced us to her cute friend Caitlin who I'd see in a play last weekend and seem to see everywhere, turns out we had a cultural studies seminar last year. She said she sees me everywhere. Bizarre. I stayed at Kate's house rather than trekking up the massive icy hill to my own house.
This morning I went straight from Kate's house to class and finally returned to my house 26 hours after leaving it.
We played volleyball from 5-7. Our opponents for the second game defaulted because they didn't have enough players so I got to play with the team from the Trent First Nations Student Association, lots of fun.
Now my story gets even stranger.
When my French class ended at 8pm I went to a lecture on the DaVinci Code that I'd seen advertised around school. Having already missed the first hour, I arrive to find the lecture hall packed with people of every age and skin colour. At the podium stood a tall priest speaking passionately with an amazing Irish brogue. He was talking about the positive impact that the Catholic Church has had on the lives of women. He spoke about what he saw as institutionalized anti-Catholicism in Canada.
When the floor was opened up for questions he answered some about the Church's deplorable role Latin American history, Opus Dei (not insidious or selfabhorrent), the Holy Grail (fictional) gender (why can't women be bishops or the pope?) and other theological stuff that I didn't understand. He generally managed to win the audience over with his eloquence and encyclopaedic knowledge of church history. As the Q & A came to an end I stuck my hand up but I got passed over. A couple people around me asked what my question was. I wanted to ask him if maybe the church had reacted poorly to The DaVinci code and if by lambasting the book they hadn't given Dan Brown more publicity and readser. Several people seemed interestef to hear the Father William's response and suggested I go talk to him personally. At the stage the crowd was milling around to ask questions of Father William or the 3 other clergymen (including the bishop). The tiny Newfie woman who had been sitting beside me also wanted to hear the aswer to my question. When I got my chance I told him that when the Church lambasted The DaVinci Code it just appeared to be a reactionary last grasp at relevance by a venerable instiution on the decine. He Told me that I over estimated the publicity generated by the critique of DaVinci Code and that the book sales didn't increase much after that. I was satisfied.
Then my day hit peak weirdness.
Father William asked me if I was Catholic, I hemmed and hawed and told him that I wasn't a practicing Catholic and I had never been baptised. He asked my my last name, Meyers I told him. "Meyers!? You're Irish! You're Irish and you never been baptised?! We're going to have to see about changing that" The he punched me in the shoulder. I was a little afriad that they might try to baptise me right there. One of the students from the Catholic Council of Trent, which hosted the event, had come to stand beside me and she told me that I should join them one night to (re)discover my faith and have fun with other young Catholics. Father William thought this was an excellent idea, gave me his email address and said that he was going to Rome tomorrow but I could email him with any questions of the faith and he would respond once he arrived in Rome. This was all quite stunning. The tiny Newfie woman led me back to the group of people who had wanted to hear Father William's response to my question and she told them that I was going to be baptised. They were all so genuinely excited with much hugging and handshaking that I couldn't tell them otherwise. They suggested several different churches and youth groups that I could attend. One gentleman immediatley offered to be my sponsor who could help me study for the baptismal exam. It was all quite overwhelming.
The more I think about it, the more I like the idea of getting involved with one of the youth groups at Trent, I still have mixed feelings.
Shisa. Back from the film shoot. Exhausting. Slept 12 hrs last night. Hant shaved in 5 days. Yesterday was 1st shaur in four days. Coulda showered but we were waking up at like 6:30 and there were like 7 of us, so it wunt worth it. Plus I never smell that strong, even when I smell bad.
Conflicted shoot. Learned a lot. Part of learning, a big part in this case, is learning what you don't know. So there was that. 4 day shoot though. By day 3 I felt I'd gotten into a good rhythm and by day 4 I was winning. Big interpersonal strife. With one crew member in particular, but naturally resulting in a divide thereafter with his "allies" on set. No confrontation, no explosion, though.
Good food. Hearty Americanadian fare, y'know? Meat and taters all the way. Big breffists and lunches and dinners. Got a good share of pork in many different forms. The director's mom / caterer promised we would all gain weight. Hant checked yet. Tummy seems a tad bigger. Still, pleased to come back to tofu and excessive ginger stir-fry tonight. Crave potato chips though.
Day three. Striking down set. Shooting in an abandonned Hydro station. Stepped on a circular grate I thought was secure. The grate flips up and I lose my footing. Land on the edge of the grate flipped sideways. Skid-bump on it and steady my feet on the ground. Intensely shocking. Jump forward, screaming "AUGH!". Look up. The fellow I do not get along with is smiling. I tell him, loudly, "Don't smile, I'm in intense pain." He says he's grimacing. I hobble a few steps and the full pain replaces the surprise and I scream, "FUCK! SHIT!". Walking is difficult but I assist in some capacity striking until the ride (Director's mom again) shows up.
Back at the ranch, I check myself out. Though my pants didn't rip, I scraped skin in two spots on my butt and thigh. Disinfect with rubbing alcohol. This pain, almost worse than impact. A burning, then a stinging, then a burning. Then band-aids. And ice, off-and-on.
Next day can walk fine. Trouble to sit down. Today, band-aids off, still hurts sometimes to sit down, scrapes visible, bruising surrounding scrapes is the colour of concord grapes.
P.S. Almost lost my Grandpa's right glove today. Was holding it in line for 196 bus and dropped it. Got on and realized I dint have it, musta dropped it. Bailed out the back of the bus to go grab it. Luckily was still there. Went in bus front again and explained to driver that I'd paid and what happened. Driver gave me scowl. I give hopeful eyes. Scowl persists. I grab for my wallet. He waves me by without paying again. Nice guy.
On bus watched this pretty Russian-looking girl flirting with some loser who wasn't interested. Just sat there staring forward with his tuque and his Misfits pin while she kept asking him questions. I had Headphones on. Couldn't make out the particulars of the conversation. Behind me a scruffy, smelly 50-something intellectual with and unkempt beard and long hair speaks to a young, tall black woman in French.
No point to that. It's just a thing about being back in Toronto, I guess and noticing anew these distinctly Toronto/TTC/etc things.
P.P.S. Don't blame me, I voted for Bill Clinton.
I'm glad that the NDP picked up 10 new seats across the country, including Olivia Chow in my Toronto riding. Unfortunately Steven Harper was able to pull the wool over the eyes of the rest of Canada. The NDP candidate I have been working for came in 3rd, about 2000 votes behind Dean "The Greasy Car Salesman" Del Mastro. Despite 13 years of well documented corruption the Liberal douchebags were able to scare enough people to vote for them that they were able to hang onto 103 seats.
Maybe Harper can pull through with his election promise to implement proportional representation. Why should the Bloq get 51 seats with 10% of the popular vote while the NDP gets 29 seats with 17% of the vote? Proportional representaion would also benefit the Green Party which got 665,940 votes nationally, good for 4.5%, but not a single seat.
The rest of my family spent election night working for the Chow campaign and afterwards they went to the Chow/Layton victory party at the Guvernment nightclub.
This semester I am playing intramural volleyball and innertube untimate frisbee, for lots of good excercise. I've submitted my paperwork to become a naval officer, I think down the line I would like to join my cousin in the brand new trade of military intelligence. Or maybe I could become a pilot, their in demand. How HOT would that be? Wearing dress white uniform,looking like I walked out of Top Gun. But first I have to wait for my paperwork to be processed by the military bureaucracy which is even slower, more convoluted and strangled by red tape than the regular civilian bureaucracy so I may have quite a wait ahead of me.
Jesus Fucking Christ this is the most fucked up thing I've ever read. A woman wakes up after giving birth and the hospital won't tell her why her arms and legs were gone.
On that note, how about those election results? Certainly if the conservatives send tanks into the cities (Canadian cities. In Canada) then we can't say we weren't warned. Hopefully Harper will need a majority before he starts executing the intelligensia. The good news is that he's on a pretty tight leash and can team up with the NDP to reform government corruption. The bad news is I think he has enough votes to ban gay marriage. It'll be close, but I think he has 157 votes (121 conservative, 6 Bloc Quebecois and 30 liberal*). Other good news is that a couple of sleazy liberals went down to defeat: Valeri, Ianno and Bulte (though Wappel's still around). Bad news is that our prospective foreign minister believes the Flintstones was a documentary and our health minister thinks 40-Year-Old Virgin was a life-style guide (Jason Kenney, the conservative health critic, is a 37-year old virgin.
I spent the election at the Green Party volunteering. We did well (3ish points above the provincial average) and everyone was very nice. Still it was definitely amateur hour at the apollo. Maybe I'm just spoiled by the Barbara Hall campaign, which after all is for the biggest single race in Canada by at least an order of magnitude. At the Green Party Party there was such a cheer when that green seat blipped in and then melencholy when it blipped out. Oh well.
In happy news, this site is funny.
*In the past vote 7 Bloc and 36 Liberals voted against same-sex marriage and 3 conservatives voted for it. 1 of those Bloc and 6 of those liberal seats transferred to the Conservatives this time. There are 2 factors that cut against this number. First, some new conservatives might be in favour of gay marriage (unlikely, but there only needs to be a net 3 switch). Second, some former liberal cabinet ministers who had to vote in favour last time no longer have to.
Great, now I'm gonna have to go vote again NEXT year.
This cannot be stable.
Vote or dissent. But go.
I had a longer post but my fucking computer crashed at school. Fuck you, York.
Compressionism. Scan a pond. For serious.
Cool shit. I picked out the best stuff off this site, but York apparently wants you to do it yourself.
Breakfast of Champions. Better than the dregs of last night's scotch and a half-smoked cigar. (Or a beefeater martini.)
Edit to add:
and more scannery stuff: www.scannerphotography.com