On The Ongoing Stress Of Everyday Life

Unexpected 400$ fees, lost cheques, broken dishwashers and pregnant hamsters... The beauty in the breakdown, to say the least.

We go about our lives in a constant state of risk management. We plan our finances, our budget, our future, our degrees, our careers. We draw up timetables, graph our annual income, fill filing cabinets, alphabetize our text books and get the weather forecast forwarded to our e-mail account.

And yet.

The unexpected never ceases. We can run, but we can't hide. We can plan, but we can't avoid the insanity of what lies just around the bend.

In a sense, how we deal with these things makes us who we are.

If the chaos of existence were a bull, there are some that would grab the bull by the horns, wrestling with the chaos until they could throw it to the ground. Others would chant their beliefs at it, soothe it to sleep with ideology. Still others would be riding the bull, bareback, whooping with joy.
Myself, I'm inclined to avoid the issue, to retreat to areas in which I am in control. I would spiral away from it, the red fabric making that lovely rippling noise through the air. I would spiral away and then climb into the stands and hail the hotdog salesman. I would play audience, watch the chaos wear itself out, and then approach it with a carrot and make it my friend.

Or at least, that's what I can visualize. Sometimes though, the bull catches that red fabric and tears me to the ground. That, or there's like forty bulls all running around at once. Sometimes succumbing to the chaos is unavoidable. It happens to everyone at one time or another, but just because it's a part of existence does NOT make it any easier.

JOKES

1. Q: How can you tell if lesbian carpenters built your house?
   A: All tongue-in-groove, with no studs.
2. Q: What do you call an Irish Lesbian?
   A: Gaylick.
3. There was a young woman from Wheeling
   Who claimed to lack sexual feeling
   Til a dyke named Delores
   Simply touched her clitoris
   And she had to be scraped from the ceiling
4. A woman goes to the gynecologist, and upon examination, the doctor says, "Why, it's immaculate in here! What do you do to keep yourself so hygenic?"
   The woman responds, "I have a woman in twice a week."

So that's that for now... let me know if you've ideas for this.

In other news, as you can see, my Tamagotchi is a bit of an ugly bugger. I'm terribly distraught by this. I hope it's a phase.

Outside of the mundane and childlike, the world revolves as per usual. I skipped TR today to work on my Philosophy Of Law, which worked out, so I'm ahead of the game there. I have to write that bloody quiz thing.

The prettiest girl smells the prettiest ever.

That is all

Thank you and enjoy the new format if you dare.

An Amazing Song...But What Does It MEAN?!?

The Bleeding Heart Show by The New Pornographers

Artist: The New Pornographers Album: Twin Cinema Year: 2005 Title: The Bleeding Heart Show

I leapt across three or four beds into your arms
Where I had hidden myself somewhere in your charm
Our golden handshake has been smashed into this shape.
It's taken magic to a primitive new place
Watch 'em run, although it's the minimum, heroic

We hunched together in one chair out on the deck
In snow that froze and fell down on the modern set
It looked as if I picked your name out of a hat
Next thing you know you are asleep in someone’s lap
Watch 'em run, although it's the minimum, heroic

We quit the room
Quit so our thoughts could rest
Rest them, I'll never move?
That's when we grab a hold
Of whatever it is we fell into
Lousy with your content
With what the majestic cannot find
In business of your lives
The perception, it is wrong, mile after mile
The phantom taste drinking wine from your heels

We have arrived too late to play the bleeding heart show

On A Roll

Check this shit out.

Peter S. Li discusses the representational frameworks that surround discourses of immigration in Canada. He walks us through the history of this country’s consistently racialized immigration policies, referencing the political and social response to “newcomers.” His perspective steps out from behind a lens that consistently places immigrants as the source of problems and changes within an otherwise acultural space. Li uses the work of Gramsci and Hall, who speak about the challenge to the predominantly white European “cultural framework” that hegemonically limits the possibility of difference in Canada. The way Canadian see immigrants as people over whom “old timers” exert the power to accept or deny is problematized, and Canada’s space is illuminated as a thoroughly racialized space. At question also is the idea of immigrants “value” to the country, which is most often evaluated on a purely economic basis. This economic scapegoating is a metanarrative of the dominant class, but there are other stories as well; often, nonwhite immigrants, especially Asians, are seen to be the bearers of organized crime, disease, communism, and illegal immigration into the US. Li refers to the research of Henry and Tator to illustrate the stereotypical basis of the “moral panic” around immigrants and immigration. The coexistent discourse of multiculturalism should contradict this ethos, but it tends, in fact, to reinforce it. Difference is tolerated as a midpoint towards “integration” and assimilation. There remains a strong ideology of “irreconcilable differences,” and this is a means to limit the discursive space given to cultures other than their own. For example, immigration policy very cautiously approaches the idea of family, in order to quietly legislate away families outside of the nuclear norm. Li addresses yet another example of the intolerance and hypocrisy of the Canadian cultural value system.

A Good Day

Today is going to be a good day. Because yesterday was, by far, one of the crappiest and yuckiest of my existence. How this came to be makes littles sense to anyone outside my crazy head, except, of course, for the prettiest girl, who almost always understands my silliness. But it was crappy. Mondays are hard. Very hard. I think it's the bad taste that Global Politics exam left in my mouth. And since three to four hours of the day are spent in that frame of mind, a certain tension builds up. Thereafter, I am stuck with Senile Stavro, who lectures like a pothead who's decided it would be a good idea to drink four cups of espresso within the hour, and to use powdered Ecstasy as sweetener. Terrifying, I tell you. Although I must say, yesterday's lecture wasn't as completely incomprehensible as usual. These unfortunate events, paired with three incidences of clumsiness and forgetfulness on my part, (I spilled coffee on my love's bag, photocopied only one side of a reading we both needed and forgot to turn over the laundry last night) compounded my misery. In the end, even a kick ass lecture via the new, improved hot prof couldn't pull me out of a well-established funk.
But that is not the issue now. The issue now is how very much better today will be, and how very much more effective my time will be.
In other news, POST 300 is well under wraps. I need to write two critical position papers for tomorrow. Odiousness that we still have to do those bastardous things. Ah well. The key thing is, write what you got from the reading in a page. And leave it at that. It's really very simple. And I think it's good for studying, you know? There's something about that summary process that enforces memory.
Aaaanyway, That's the word for now. I'm almost sad to post this because it means my fighting poodles are going into the archive. Please visit them and love them. I think I find a lot of meaning in them. *sniffle*...(not)

So You Think I'm Crazy?

Talk about getting down to the business of psychoanalysis, eh? This song is my theme song of late. Love it. Who knew its video would so speak to my current educational explorations! I love the friendly coincidence.

Poodles Fighting

dog eat dog world? i do believe so!

CHICKEN LAND!

Yes folks, we're movin' to Scarborough, which I sincerely hope will have at least one fine Chicken Land establishment. Even if they don't, though, I will be very excited. The plan is, a two-three bedroom with room to grow, as it were. We shall see. What with a conditional offer and then this other dude who's interested, it could be sooner rather than later that all this theorizing becomes practice. Eek.

I got a new notebook today - the benefits of counselling=free notebooks. I'm not far enough in to say it's changed my life yet, and I don't think I ever will, but it's a place to talk anyways. But it's a nice one, the same as my little leather one that I have and love now. Strange. Very strange. In any case, I'm looking forward to cracking its spine. There's something about the end of a notebook that makes you want to write more, larger, faster, and get it over with. A new notebook has so many thrills to it - no mistakes, no ripped-out pages and no weird ink blots. The page seeks your words. But it's also a lot of pressure. I hope these Moleskin things never go out of style, because I don't ever want to write in anything else. Ever. I remember thinking that to myself the other day, so when my counsellor mentioned she'd got me a notebook, I thought "oh no, another wasted chunk of paper that i'll never find a use for." But then, she surprised me. Twas loverly. Lovely indeed.

Anywhoo, that's it for tonight, folks, after a minor philosophical debate that follows.

The problem is, most of Western society works on the philosophical mistake that everything is a binary, setting percieved "presence" against some lack, or "absence". The presence/absence binary stretches into other common binaries, such as man/woman, culture/nature, light/dark, white/black, wealthy/poor, etc. It also leads to destructive thinking around sexual organs. Men have the presence of a penis. Therefore, they have the essence of their sexuality outside of themselves - it leads to thinking that demands sexual satisfaction for men, but not for women. As the prettiest girl discusses on her blog, this has meant that, until 2005, phys ed. classes did not label the clitoris in class diagrams of women's private parts. It also means that while there are upwards of 20,000 entries in the medical literature about the penis, there are still under 2,000 about the clitoris.

On Thursdays...

I go to work at dearest Trent Radio. Today, I plan to digitize a whole friggin' wackload of cds. Twill be marvy.
In other news, my throat and most of my head and neck feel as though they are made of gravel and misery. Gotta love it.
Also, my Tamagotchi had a baby again. To the right is an image of the two of them. It's strange how attached I can get to these little electronic pieces of shite. I think I may have too much love to give.
To the left is an image of an old guitarist, which is what I feel like inside right now - kinda haggard, a little contorted, but truthful and expressive.
I started Art Therapy last night. I'm confronting a lot of things that I would normally avoid like the plague, ie/ feeling things, talking to people about the feelings, trying not to perform or manipulate the surroundings, drawing with crayons in front of people, sitting in circles, doing "check-ins" and so forth. But I KNOW it's good for me, because I already feel lighter knowing there's another group of people out there like me, with the same issues and goings-on. And the fact that I see them once a week regardless is relaxing to me. It takes the self-motivation out of it.
Anyway, enough of this rambling. Tata for now.

My New Mantra

Statement of Admission Policy To U of T Law School
The Faculty of Law seeks to identify and select a student body of diverse interests and backgrounds joined by a commitment to academic excellence and intellectual rigour and demonstrating unusual promise for distinguished performance at the law school, and, subsequently, in the legal profession and community. The law school is enriched and Canadian society is benefited by a diverse student body made up of students from various ethnic, racial, cultural and socio-economic backgrounds, from different regions of Canada, as well as from a range of academic disciplines, careers, and community and extracurricular experiences. The Admissions Committee, chaired by a faculty member and composed of the Assistant Dean, Students, faculty and third-year students, chooses those applicants whom it judges are likely to complete the program with the greatest intellectual return. The Faculty believes that the qualities of mind and personality necessary to satisfy its requirements are:
high intelligence,
sound judgment,
the capacity and motivation for demanding intellectual effort,
the capacity and motivation to engage in sophisticated legal reasoning, and
an understanding of and sensitivity to human interaction.
As evidence of these qualities, the Faculty looks to a number of factors. These include: academic achievement; Law School Admission Test (LSAT) score; nonacademic achievement; the response to disadvantage due to adverse personal or socio-economic circumstances or to barriers faced by cultural (including racial or ethnic) or linguistic minorities; motivation and involvement in academic and non-academic activities; and the impact of temporary or permanent physical disabilities. The Faculty seeks a diverse, stimulating and highly motivated student body. Thus, the Admissions Committee may also give weight to work experience, graduate study, outstanding accomplishment in a non-academic activity, and other special circumstances brought to its attention. While the Admissions Committee gives greatest weight to an applicant's cumulative undergraduate academic record and LSAT score, these other factors may, in some cases, play an important role in the admissions decision. For this reason, applicants are strongly encouraged to bring to the attention of the Committee the above mentioned factors in their PERSONAL STATEMENTS. Such factors will only be considered to the extent that they assist the applicant.

Serious asset kicking, last-minute-kung-fu style

Well folks, the numbers are in, and the prettiest girl and I both kicked some serious assets on our off-the-cuff POST 300 paper. SERIOUS....ASSETS. Who knew thinking for three weeks and then writing like mad for four hours could make a ten page paper an A? Well now we do.
The key, though, is reading the situation with caution. Some TAs and professors actually give two shits about grammar, punctuation and clarity - which I most certainly ignored in the aforementioned paper - and others, quite frankly, do not. One must read one's fearless leaders very carefully in order to establish this. Unfortunately, neither the prettiest girl nor myself understood our CUST 265 TA to be of the prior sort. I, for one, assumed she was a self-conscious but relatively relaxed and groovy cat. Of course, NOW we learn she studied English at Queen's University - only the most anally restrictive and nose-raising university north of the 49th parallel and this side of the Atlantic. *sigh* If only we had known.
And now, the wait for my OSAP cheque to clear continues. I've been feeling like partying as though I actually HAVE this money for weeks now, with no ACTUAL money. Ah well.
Anyway, that's the word for now. All this rambling. Jeez. One would think I actually have something to say...Well. Maybe. Maybe one day.

Hey, check this out!

it LIVES!!!!

You wanna know how much I have to read?

THIS MUCH.
in other words, UPWARDS OF 300 PAGES A WEEK.
YES.
no fair.
at least I'm not alone.

Go Go Gadget Global Politics Exam

...which kicked me in my ass HARD CORE, until I was a little weepy and a lot overwhelmed. Booh, is all I have to say. But that's alright, that's okay. I've only been dealing with the biggest baggage a 20-year old can have, and I've been doing pretty well, considering.

Of course, that's not to say my luck or anyone I love's luck, has changed. Today, the prettiest girl got in the ugliest accident, through no fault of her own. Vehicles are difficult things. If only we could all have such a confident and loving relationship with our vehicles as this young lady here. Iris Bergelmann*, here pictured with her "pinkmobile", is this week's winner of the Gadfli's "WEIRD GOOGLE IMAGE" contest**.

In other news, all theory and no practice makes one a French feminist, and all practice without theory makes one an Anglo-American feminist. But what, then, is Toril Moi? A Franglofeminist? Hmmm... I sense the name of a new superhero.

But for me, I'm sick of all this theorizing. Makes me feel short-armed and tyrannosaurus rex-ish, if you know what I mean. All bite and no muscle power or reason to the design. You know?




*Not her real name
**Not a real contest

"On Wings Of Pestilence"

Metal CDs can be spotted at fifty paces, even if they have misleadingly (not a word) soothing covers. The track names give it all away. Death, revulsion and self-mutilation are reoccuring themes in a genre plagued by repetitive bunk. Since the earliest of metal bands, new ideas have hardly been forthcoming. This is due to their status as the products of upper-middle class angry teenagers whose parents let them use the garage and expensive sound equipment to express themselves. I'm not saying, of course, that this is always the case, and many of these boisterous boys come up with plenty of good messages and viable points. But from where I'm sitting, most of it is a wackload of self-pity and juvenile frustration, even amongst the hairiest and midtwentiest of metal bands.

BRRR

Trent Radio, as a non-non-smoking environment, has a tendency to be extremely chilly. It is very plus plus BRRR in here, and my poor wee fingers are slower on the keys than they would be in somewhat less sub-zero temperatures. On the upside, the ripping device on one of the two computers is out. Normally, this would be an enormous pisser, but today it means that I can twitch around the loverly internet, get my google calendar all svelte for the upcoming semester, and keep in touch (potentially) with a particularly pretty girl. Oh! "RIPPING COMPLETE!" Tata for now.

Super Barbies and the Science Monkey

NEWS! NEWS! NEWS! NEWS!

Yes, I have FINALLY recieved one of my midterm marks. It's like they take such a long time just to torture me.
In PHILOSOPHY of LAW, JUSTICE and the STATE, I recieved 16/20 - ei/80%. I felt certain, upon leaving the exam, that I did better than that, but hey. It happens. I just hope it doesn't happen in certain other classes, where higher marks are more necessary for my psychological well-being. For this course, considering how infrequently I attended and how scattered I felt for most of this semester in general, that's not too shabby.

In other news, I'm in the sinbin, I know. But I am stubbornly attempting to prove that I can be in her house without invading anyone's life. I WAS going to go home anyway, but I am hurt at her callous recommendation of such, as though I have not really internalized anything she's said to me the past few days. I truly have, and I feel like an asshat. I think about my asshatliness as often as teenage boys think about sex. It is an inescapable portion of my mental exercise of late, which is why I do hope it dissipates just slightly before school starts, to allow room for more academic pursuits. In any case, here I am being stubborn and trying to learn as best I can how to fit, because she is the most important thing in my world, and I've effed it up one too many times to not take this seriously.

Right-o, so. That's the word from this nerd. Tata for now.

Yes, Folks. A New Year.

I'd say "big whoop", but I have a feeling that would curse my chances at making this a decent year. Here's the U2 song of the same name to cheer us all right the eff up:

"New Year's Day"

Yeah...

All is quiet on New Year's Day

A world in white gets underway

I want to be with you

Be with you night and day

Nothing changes on New Year's Day

On New Year's Day

I will be with you again

I will be with you again

Under a blood red sky

A crowd has gathered in black and white

Arms entwined, the chosen few

The newspapers says, says

Say it's true it's true...

And we can break through

Though torn in two

We can be one

I...I will begin again

I...I will begin again

Oh...Maybe the time is right

Oh...maybe tonight...

I will be with you again

I will be with you again

And so we're told this is the golden age

And gold is the reason for the wars we wage

Though I want to be with you

Be with you night and day

Nothing changes on New Year's Day

On New Year's Day