They tasted fine.
They tasted fine.
Although they would probably appear more exciting after drinking a bottle of wine,
Or a litre of brine
Or standing on a mine
Or stealing a road sign
Or watching a cat playing with twine.
You get the gist.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Friday, September 23, 2011
The World has definitely gone to pot.
Let me paint a sexy picture. 6.50am. I think I've slept about two hours in total. Every inch of my face feels blocked up by word that sickens me even to say (Clue - It rhymes with shleghm). I have tossed and turned so much that my sheets have come off and instead of putting them back on, as I feel too exhausted, I am inside my duvet cover. I try to head towards the bathroom in my strange duvet outfit. Walking quickly becomes an issue as I walk like some bumbling, grey oaf of a starfish. Why not just take it off? I bloody don't want to ok?! It gives me a sense of worth. However, I did get it stuck under the door to the bathroom a few times and have to wrestle it out like a crazy mad woman in a duvet dress...which is not what I am. I am a crazy SICK mad woman in a duvet dress. Also I would like to clarify that duvet dress did not enter the toilet itself. At the toilet cubicle door (Yes. Cubicle. It is like being at school. Actually we are at what the North American's called school, but lets not even go there because I might get onto the whole yoghurt/yeaughurt thing and it is much to early in the morning to bring that level of anger to the surface.) Anyway, I ambled (at best) back to my bed with a fresh roll of toilet paper in hand as I am too stingy to buy actual tissues (or at least I was) and started to go to town on it. Once satisfied that I was the most hideous human being on the planet at this moment time I decided to check my laptop to see if anyone loved me. A foolish idea, I know. I struggled my way through the new facebook for a while but was incapable of using it because I like the simple things in life, like rivers and trigonometry. Anyway, after having failed at seeing what people I'm not even that interested in in real life of I would just contact them directly were up to at that moment in time, I decided to throw in the towel and check my e-mail. I was happy to see that I had four new emails, although I was less happy to read that the first three were sent from StumbleUpon, Paypal and Pizza Express. Mainly because I can't go to pizza express for 9 months and I've been having trouble accepting that already without it being rubbed all over my word that rhymes with shleghmy face. Although, there was one email from BUTEX secretariat - Butex being the transatlantic scholarship thingamabob (my sensational descriptive skills are going to make the next part of what I say almost impossible to believe). I have to say I didn't even remember what BUTEX was initially, but I thought I'd give it a read, even though they had failed to spell my name correctly. Apparently being called Katharine and not Katherine seems to send people into a mad frenzy where they feel it immoral to spell it the way God (or my parents) intended it to be.
Given my quality of life at the moment I was remarkably surprised to find this babe of an email:
Although in real life they didn't send it in quite such blurry quality...
So anyway yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! My week has turned around at the final hurdle. I even got an unprovoked email from Anne Worth asking about how my time is here and asking me to upload pictures and details to the Exeter study abroad flickr page. I don't think I'll be telling her about this blog any time soon though.....
The only part (or two parts that make me sad) is that a) I have to send them a picture of myself loving life on my year abroad. If you know me (and I bloody hope you do, otherwise I LITERALLY have no idea what you are doing here), you would know that I hate having my photograph taken. Furthermore I am terribly British, and I feel that any love I have for life should be suitably oppressed under a façade of scathing and witticisms. At some point I'm going to down some vodka shots and hand Jess the camera. I might wait til winter when the snow will go up to my ears anyway and I will be unrecognisable.
b) I don't even remember what I wrote, and I hate reading my own writing so much that I fear I will never know as I am not man enough to hit the open button on my application.
I remember the gist of it I think. I think it was something about comparing the process of the study abroad to packing a suitcase. James Joyce, eat your heart out! It doesn't take made up words and incomprehensible jargon to make great writing - all it takes is a bit of extended metaphor.
Also, you may ask why I went through the laborious process of scene setting and lamenting my illness. Well. I wanted to make sure everyone knows that I am suffering, because I am selfish and self-obsessed. If you don't like it...I'll be blogging about you next. Bitches.
Anyway, as it's rolling up to 7.40am and I have done no reading for today's class I think it's time I watched the Christmas episode of Outnumbered.
Will write again after the weekend once I become a tie-dye sensation...or if anything worth writing about happens in the near future. But what are the chances of anything like that happenAHHHHHHHHH! OH MY GOD! ALIENS ARE ATTACKING!
Given my quality of life at the moment I was remarkably surprised to find this babe of an email:
Although in real life they didn't send it in quite such blurry quality...
So anyway yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! My week has turned around at the final hurdle. I even got an unprovoked email from Anne Worth asking about how my time is here and asking me to upload pictures and details to the Exeter study abroad flickr page. I don't think I'll be telling her about this blog any time soon though.....
The only part (or two parts that make me sad) is that a) I have to send them a picture of myself loving life on my year abroad. If you know me (and I bloody hope you do, otherwise I LITERALLY have no idea what you are doing here), you would know that I hate having my photograph taken. Furthermore I am terribly British, and I feel that any love I have for life should be suitably oppressed under a façade of scathing and witticisms. At some point I'm going to down some vodka shots and hand Jess the camera. I might wait til winter when the snow will go up to my ears anyway and I will be unrecognisable.
b) I don't even remember what I wrote, and I hate reading my own writing so much that I fear I will never know as I am not man enough to hit the open button on my application.
I remember the gist of it I think. I think it was something about comparing the process of the study abroad to packing a suitcase. James Joyce, eat your heart out! It doesn't take made up words and incomprehensible jargon to make great writing - all it takes is a bit of extended metaphor.
Also, you may ask why I went through the laborious process of scene setting and lamenting my illness. Well. I wanted to make sure everyone knows that I am suffering, because I am selfish and self-obsessed. If you don't like it...I'll be blogging about you next. Bitches.
Anyway, as it's rolling up to 7.40am and I have done no reading for today's class I think it's time I watched the Christmas episode of Outnumbered.
Will write again after the weekend once I become a tie-dye sensation...or if anything worth writing about happens in the near future. But what are the chances of anything like that happenAHHHHHHHHH! OH MY GOD! ALIENS ARE ATTACKING!
Monday, September 19, 2011
New week.
This is a new week. A new week where I need to start doing some proper work or fade away into academic obscurity.
Cue motivational music....
Sunday, September 18, 2011
One more thing.
As an apology for the monstrosities that have just spilled from my fingertips. Here is a dancing cat to lift the mood.
Getting a life.
Word on the street is that is has become common blogging practice to upload a video of self in chitchatty mode. This is a good idea and has been part of Team Team code law for many eons. As I am wearing the traditional Exeter hoodie (represent Anne Worth) it would appear to be the perfect time to do so. However, I fear that my insane good looks may be too much to handle. Also I find that having my own voice played back to me is about as pleasant as putting a cat in a cement mixer. So I'm going to remain in technological obscurity and type. Perhaps I will occasionally throw in some edgy formatting like putting words in italics, or even underlining certain phrases as if they are important, when in fact they are just as mundane as the preceding ones.
ANYWAY, it has now been over two weeks since I entered Canada. Within this time I have managed to spend an insane amount of money, made a name for myself as a social recluse and have eaten more pizza than should even be legal. I'm starting to question whether I even like pizza, but it has become a tradition here. Pizza and pasta, pizza and rice, pizza and pizza. We did attempt to branch out and eat a chicken lunch the other day. Only to be told by the finely named 'Chicken Chicken' that they did not serve chicken on a saturday. I didn't expect much from Chicken Chicken to be fair, but pretty much the number one think of my list of expectations for such a fine establishment was chicken. The woman almost sound like it was obvious - Chicken on a saturday?! Are you mad?!? Yes..Yes I am mad. Because I wanted chicken.
Started off details of my weekend by talking about Chicken makes it sound like I had the most dull weekend in the world, whereas in fact it was only the 9th most dull weekend in the world. A highlight of friday night was taking The Fishing Game on its first big night out. The night began with a less than inspiring start to the night where a game of Cranium nearly convinced me that I should pack my bags and head back home. I know what you are thinking. How can a game of Cranium have any negative effects? Surely it is a game sent from the Heavens that brings man, woman and child together in ways that were never before thought possible. Lies.
As we've only been here 2 weeks, it has been difficult to really get a grasp on people and their characters. Everyone is nice and sociable, but it is difficult to get beneath the surface. This weekend, however, I've developed the theory that there are 3 situations which allow you to truly to get to know someone -
1. When faced with a challenge (This is a shoutout to you, Jessica. Yeah, I do shoutouts.)
2. When drinking.
3. When playing boardgames.
I probably shouldn't say too much on the subjects really. I don't like to be a blogbitcher about people. I like to bitch face to face. It's more personal. Cranium can be touched upon though. It is amazing how it can only take a single person and a simple board game to turn the atmosphere in a room to lead. There was more tangible animosity, irritation and frustration within that room than I expect the collective population of Canada has felt since the start of their existence.
Every cloud has silver lining though, as the sheer amount of distress caused by this fateful eve drove me to a crossroads in my life. To stay in my room tearfully smacking my head against a wall, or to go for broke and try to cobble some sort of social life out of plastic fishes and my infallible British charm. The next few hours were good, until Jess broke one of the few remaining rods in the fishing game. Turns out Blind Fishing is a lot more extreme than we gave it credit for. Probably should have ended the night there, as stuff after that gets a little hazy. Not hazy drunk, just entered another form of Twilight Zone. Pretty much the polar opposite of that of the pep rally. I could write more upon the subject, but I like being kind of vague and mysterious. It gives me a false sense of power. I can sit on my chair, stroking my broccoli (not an innuendo. I repeat not an innuendo) and imagining people scratching their heads trying to decode my cryptic musings.
All I can do is to promise that in future I will try to avoid musing posts. I don't think I'm a very good muser. I just felt like procrastinating. And as a procrastinator when I feel like doing something, I always carry it out until the very........
ANYWAY, it has now been over two weeks since I entered Canada. Within this time I have managed to spend an insane amount of money, made a name for myself as a social recluse and have eaten more pizza than should even be legal. I'm starting to question whether I even like pizza, but it has become a tradition here. Pizza and pasta, pizza and rice, pizza and pizza. We did attempt to branch out and eat a chicken lunch the other day. Only to be told by the finely named 'Chicken Chicken' that they did not serve chicken on a saturday. I didn't expect much from Chicken Chicken to be fair, but pretty much the number one think of my list of expectations for such a fine establishment was chicken. The woman almost sound like it was obvious - Chicken on a saturday?! Are you mad?!? Yes..Yes I am mad. Because I wanted chicken.
Started off details of my weekend by talking about Chicken makes it sound like I had the most dull weekend in the world, whereas in fact it was only the 9th most dull weekend in the world. A highlight of friday night was taking The Fishing Game on its first big night out. The night began with a less than inspiring start to the night where a game of Cranium nearly convinced me that I should pack my bags and head back home. I know what you are thinking. How can a game of Cranium have any negative effects? Surely it is a game sent from the Heavens that brings man, woman and child together in ways that were never before thought possible. Lies.
As we've only been here 2 weeks, it has been difficult to really get a grasp on people and their characters. Everyone is nice and sociable, but it is difficult to get beneath the surface. This weekend, however, I've developed the theory that there are 3 situations which allow you to truly to get to know someone -
1. When faced with a challenge (This is a shoutout to you, Jessica. Yeah, I do shoutouts.)
2. When drinking.
3. When playing boardgames.
I probably shouldn't say too much on the subjects really. I don't like to be a blogbitcher about people. I like to bitch face to face. It's more personal. Cranium can be touched upon though. It is amazing how it can only take a single person and a simple board game to turn the atmosphere in a room to lead. There was more tangible animosity, irritation and frustration within that room than I expect the collective population of Canada has felt since the start of their existence.
Every cloud has silver lining though, as the sheer amount of distress caused by this fateful eve drove me to a crossroads in my life. To stay in my room tearfully smacking my head against a wall, or to go for broke and try to cobble some sort of social life out of plastic fishes and my infallible British charm. The next few hours were good, until Jess broke one of the few remaining rods in the fishing game. Turns out Blind Fishing is a lot more extreme than we gave it credit for. Probably should have ended the night there, as stuff after that gets a little hazy. Not hazy drunk, just entered another form of Twilight Zone. Pretty much the polar opposite of that of the pep rally. I could write more upon the subject, but I like being kind of vague and mysterious. It gives me a false sense of power. I can sit on my chair, stroking my broccoli (not an innuendo. I repeat not an innuendo) and imagining people scratching their heads trying to decode my cryptic musings.
All I can do is to promise that in future I will try to avoid musing posts. I don't think I'm a very good muser. I just felt like procrastinating. And as a procrastinator when I feel like doing something, I always carry it out until the very........
Friday, September 16, 2011
Totally Nutty Base.
It is 10.15 am. For some reason I have been awake for the past 2 hours. I'd like to think this is because Canada has turned me into a real human being, but I find that highly unlikely. My daily energy pattern is usually sleepy-energised-sleepy-sleepy-SLEEPY-should I go to sleep? No Kate, it is 8pm. Dick.-wake-wake-wake-SHLEEP its 3am. That is it in the most poetic terms anyway. Luckily my energy lull tends to hit half way through my classes so I don't have to worry about taking notes or any of that shebang because I am virtually comatose regardless. You can't make a person in a coma take notes - I checked. Even more worrying than my sleep pattern is that I have listened to this song three times this morning:
I'm sure Canadians would like the buttery biscuit too. But they seem to like most things so that probably isn't saying too much.
One thing about Canada that makes me wake up during the night in a fit of cold sweats is the revelation that their paper/ringbinders only have 3 holes. I don't want to have to go so far as to call this immoral, but I wasn't too impressed by having my mind-blown to such an extent while standing in Walmart with 3 hole holepunch in hand and a 2 dollar 97 recorder in the other. The latter seems to play notes which are not yet known to man, and the holepuncher is even worse as an instrument. Although as the old saying goes - If you want to make an orchestra, don't start in the stationary section. Think that was Plato..maybe.
I am aware of the rambling qualities. This is to give people the illusion of a purpose other than the fact that I cannot remember anything that has happened in the last week and am trying to fill in the gaps in my brain through incessant typing. It is working though. All these words are on the screen and you can barely tell that they are meaningless. I might as well not even be in Canada for all the interesting thoughts and observations that have passed my mind since I have been here. Well tough shit. Because I'm not going home. Ever. Until may or possibly a bit later. I don't know. Plans are for the weak.
One thing I am aware of is that time goes a lot quicker when you have class. Whereas as week one dragged like a leaden maple leaf, this week is basically done and I have barely had time to blink. It has been good, because I haven't felt too overwhelmed by classes as they scurry along past me, but at the same time I feel like I have wasted another week here not doing anything. I shall go downtown tomorrow though. Even if only to purchase some mighty fine French Literature. Because I am doing a French module, not because I am being a pretentious person who needs to make sure everyone knows that some of the literature they read is French. Non, je ne veux pas le faire.
Although having written about not doing anything has reminded me that I do have a valid excuse. I had intended to potter around yesterday. Perchance indulge myself in some colonial literature by the parliament, chow down on a cinnabon and such wonders. BUT..this is where my excuse for being a failure at life kicks in. I had a minor bout of food poisoning. Everything was going wonderful until the pasta bake. Oh the pasta bake. It tasted really good, and irony played its little game of making me say to myself that I was so glad to have something that tasted like a proper homecooked meal for a change instead of that damn pizza. Towards the end of dinner everything got a bit hazy. The rest of the night was full of vomiting, sweating and peristaltic stomach movements. Needless to say guys were lining up outside my door. Can you blame them? The only redeeming feature of the night was that I got a toy broccoli from Ikea. I just thought with Connect 4 and the fishing game in my room that I wasn't coming across quite immature enough yet, so I decided to seal my fate and to enter Neverland..never to return.
I Moose-t be going now. I was doing some work but I decided to take a Paws.
I'm sure Canadians would like the buttery biscuit too. But they seem to like most things so that probably isn't saying too much.
One thing about Canada that makes me wake up during the night in a fit of cold sweats is the revelation that their paper/ringbinders only have 3 holes. I don't want to have to go so far as to call this immoral, but I wasn't too impressed by having my mind-blown to such an extent while standing in Walmart with 3 hole holepunch in hand and a 2 dollar 97 recorder in the other. The latter seems to play notes which are not yet known to man, and the holepuncher is even worse as an instrument. Although as the old saying goes - If you want to make an orchestra, don't start in the stationary section. Think that was Plato..maybe.
I am aware of the rambling qualities. This is to give people the illusion of a purpose other than the fact that I cannot remember anything that has happened in the last week and am trying to fill in the gaps in my brain through incessant typing. It is working though. All these words are on the screen and you can barely tell that they are meaningless. I might as well not even be in Canada for all the interesting thoughts and observations that have passed my mind since I have been here. Well tough shit. Because I'm not going home. Ever. Until may or possibly a bit later. I don't know. Plans are for the weak.
One thing I am aware of is that time goes a lot quicker when you have class. Whereas as week one dragged like a leaden maple leaf, this week is basically done and I have barely had time to blink. It has been good, because I haven't felt too overwhelmed by classes as they scurry along past me, but at the same time I feel like I have wasted another week here not doing anything. I shall go downtown tomorrow though. Even if only to purchase some mighty fine French Literature. Because I am doing a French module, not because I am being a pretentious person who needs to make sure everyone knows that some of the literature they read is French. Non, je ne veux pas le faire.
Although having written about not doing anything has reminded me that I do have a valid excuse. I had intended to potter around yesterday. Perchance indulge myself in some colonial literature by the parliament, chow down on a cinnabon and such wonders. BUT..this is where my excuse for being a failure at life kicks in. I had a minor bout of food poisoning. Everything was going wonderful until the pasta bake. Oh the pasta bake. It tasted really good, and irony played its little game of making me say to myself that I was so glad to have something that tasted like a proper homecooked meal for a change instead of that damn pizza. Towards the end of dinner everything got a bit hazy. The rest of the night was full of vomiting, sweating and peristaltic stomach movements. Needless to say guys were lining up outside my door. Can you blame them? The only redeeming feature of the night was that I got a toy broccoli from Ikea. I just thought with Connect 4 and the fishing game in my room that I wasn't coming across quite immature enough yet, so I decided to seal my fate and to enter Neverland..never to return.
I Moose-t be going now. I was doing some work but I decided to take a Paws.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
One day I'll wake up.
Despite having only had 4 days of classes I am a disaster zone regardless and feel like I have worked non-stop since August. One day I shall crawl out of the hole of unfounded self-pity that I have dug myself. Until then this is a bullet-pointed summary of life,love and fishing games.
- Being a Brit in a class about the evil British colonisers is a little intimidating. I think as the class continues I will slowly be moving further back in the rows. I haven't outed myself yet. I need to find the write moment, or to perhaps consult with the Queen so she can help me draft a formal apology.
- Lots of people got up at 4am to watch the Royal Wedding. I only saw the rings, whilst cooking the bacon and wondering why we were even watching that part. I don't see why you would need to watch the wedding when the story has already been so accurately and tastefully documented:
- Despite my initial sadness that the school mascot is a raven as I have an irrational fear of medium sized birds (thank you Alfred Hitchcock), having discovered that his name is Rodney has cured me of my mal a l'aise. I will try to give all my fears silly names in future. I don't have to worry about it for the moment because I'm not taking Algernon Aeroplane until December.
- Walmart is a cruel mistress. It is big, without women's spray deodorant and tempts me into making highly unnecessary purposes. I say unnecessary...I have used the fishing game most days. I'm pretty sure given it has 4 rods that it is not a one player game, but other people might corrupt my immense fishing skills.
- Canada essentially promotes alcoholism. As there is no 'Value' drink here, the best way to get value for money is to buy alcohol in the bulkiest form. The 1.4 litre bottle of vodka under my desk has been mocking me since yesterday. And also wondering where the number 1.4 was plucked from. As it is only 11am at the moment there will be no further discussion with Vodka at this hour.
- If I don't wash my clothes soon I think the raccoons are going to come for me next.
- Being a Brit in a class about the evil British colonisers is a little intimidating. I think as the class continues I will slowly be moving further back in the rows. I haven't outed myself yet. I need to find the write moment, or to perhaps consult with the Queen so she can help me draft a formal apology.
- Lots of people got up at 4am to watch the Royal Wedding. I only saw the rings, whilst cooking the bacon and wondering why we were even watching that part. I don't see why you would need to watch the wedding when the story has already been so accurately and tastefully documented:
- Despite my initial sadness that the school mascot is a raven as I have an irrational fear of medium sized birds (thank you Alfred Hitchcock), having discovered that his name is Rodney has cured me of my mal a l'aise. I will try to give all my fears silly names in future. I don't have to worry about it for the moment because I'm not taking Algernon Aeroplane until December.
- Walmart is a cruel mistress. It is big, without women's spray deodorant and tempts me into making highly unnecessary purposes. I say unnecessary...I have used the fishing game most days. I'm pretty sure given it has 4 rods that it is not a one player game, but other people might corrupt my immense fishing skills.
- Canada essentially promotes alcoholism. As there is no 'Value' drink here, the best way to get value for money is to buy alcohol in the bulkiest form. The 1.4 litre bottle of vodka under my desk has been mocking me since yesterday. And also wondering where the number 1.4 was plucked from. As it is only 11am at the moment there will be no further discussion with Vodka at this hour.
- If I don't wash my clothes soon I think the raccoons are going to come for me next.
Monday, September 12, 2011
Just a little thing today...
Since having recently being bit by the sleepy bug I thought today was a good day to simply honour the Canadian wildlife.
Enjoy.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
The Twilight Zone.
Since the last post the level of pep has somewhat subsided as the academic year draws closer. It obviously still exists in Raven sized pockets though. The night after Pep-gate we were woken up at 8.30 by vigorous knocking and shouting. The guy outside my door was shouting 'I know you're in there, Kate. We're not going anywhere, Kate'. In any other circumstances this might be viewed as a little bit rapey, but here apparently it is the norm. Clearly dissatisfied with my reluctance to leave my bed, he decided that the next best thing to do was to kick my door. He may have knocked the books off my shelf and left a large footprint on my door, but I like to think that I won the war and didn't surrender my British cynicism for even a second.
On the same day we had Exchange Student orientation. I think Exchange Orientation is where the phrase 'a barrel of laughs' was originally formed. The highlight of the afternoon were the chairs that swung when you sat on them. Although I think about three hours in the novelty started to wear off a little. Most of the stuff was fairly boring, but also somewhat surprising. You would think that because we are in Canada that they would try to promote the Canadian way of life and their demeanour. Apparently not the case. After a quick lesson in how to 'Just say no' and to make sure we don't accidentally think we are dating people because we are international students are all sexual deviants, we were shown the correct distance to stand away from a Canadian person when talking to them. I'd like to think this is all a joke, but the fact they include it in their guide book and that the demonstration was done without a hint of irony made me fear the worst. Apparently unless you stand an arms length away from a person they will either think that you are going sexually assault them or that you want nothing to do with them. I don't think this rule is strictly followed here though. The man on the bus in to town definitely had no issues about boundaries as he leaned extremely close until he found a good opening line - 'It is like a can of sardines in here.' I thought a smile and a nod would suffice, but no apparently not. He wanted to know why Canadians have to pay to put the Queen on their money. I regretted to inform him that I actually have very little political power in either the UK or Canada so I could not help it. I sympathised with him less when he said his issue wasn't so much with having a UK figure on their money, but that the Queen wasn't 'hot' enough. As he didn't find Elizabeth much of a QILF he suggested Princess Diana or Kate Middleton. I haven't had a chance to talk to the Canadian parliament as of yet, but I'm sure the Diana dimes will be in circulation by December. Unfortunately, we had to part in downtown Ottawa and as he told me that he still loved his ex-wife I did a mental awkward turtle.
We also saw a light show at the parliament (videos/photos on facebook) which was really good. Unless you were Jess. If you were Jess you were probably trying to shake off an over friendly International student. We thought Jess might be living in a 3 person room for the rest of the year for a while.
Yesterday we had convocation in the morning. We went for the free t-shirts and ended up with 2 hours of sitting in a room and listening to such classics as 'Time after Time' and 'Crazy Frog'. Never heard them in the same playlist before I have to say. After the first hour or so even the pep rallyers could keep up their inflatable clappers, and if they had failed..what hope was there for the rest of us. When it finally started there was a bagpipe lead procession which caused a certain degree of culture shock. We were informed of the emergency exits in case the shit kicked off and then we were good to go. An hour of speeches followed which I dipped in and out of. The strange part came when we had to pledge our life to Carleton. 'Will you promise to practice academic integrity? I will.' 'Will you promise to love your time at Carleton? I might if you let he have a lie in past 8.30am you robots.' With this done I felt an eerie sort of feeling as if I had just sold my soul to the devil.
After an afternoon nap was the evening 'entertainment'. First off - Carleton's got Talent. Before I came to Canada I was worried that they didn't have a sense of irony, but tonight I was proved wrong. After an improv story about Pogs and a radio, an ok dance troop, a poem about passion and a band singing terrifying songs about how we are all warriors and need to save the children the judges had the 'difficult' decision of picking a winner. The dance troop got their cheque and we all tried to forget the atrocities we had just witnessed. Next was 'The Buried Life' - a group of guys who go around helping others and crossing things off their Bucket List. It was an 'inspirational talk'. Usually that kind of thing makes me want to vomit my soul, but I actually thought this was really good to listen to. It hasn't made me feel like I have the power to change the world, or to ride a bull for 8 seconds, but it still made for interesting listening. The evening did take a somewhat interesting turn though when they opened the floor for people to say what they want to do before they die. Some things were pretty mundane/attention seeking/excuses for hugs from the guys on stage, but some were extremely serious. This was DEFINITELY culture shock. I could never imagine in England people standing up in front of masses of people talking about their abandonment, incest, traumas etc. It was both fascinating and surreal. I did feel for these people, but I also felt myself slipping into a sort of twilight zone. And for a moment there I thought I was actually starring in the real life version of Mean Girls:
On the same day we had Exchange Student orientation. I think Exchange Orientation is where the phrase 'a barrel of laughs' was originally formed. The highlight of the afternoon were the chairs that swung when you sat on them. Although I think about three hours in the novelty started to wear off a little. Most of the stuff was fairly boring, but also somewhat surprising. You would think that because we are in Canada that they would try to promote the Canadian way of life and their demeanour. Apparently not the case. After a quick lesson in how to 'Just say no' and to make sure we don't accidentally think we are dating people because we are international students are all sexual deviants, we were shown the correct distance to stand away from a Canadian person when talking to them. I'd like to think this is all a joke, but the fact they include it in their guide book and that the demonstration was done without a hint of irony made me fear the worst. Apparently unless you stand an arms length away from a person they will either think that you are going sexually assault them or that you want nothing to do with them. I don't think this rule is strictly followed here though. The man on the bus in to town definitely had no issues about boundaries as he leaned extremely close until he found a good opening line - 'It is like a can of sardines in here.' I thought a smile and a nod would suffice, but no apparently not. He wanted to know why Canadians have to pay to put the Queen on their money. I regretted to inform him that I actually have very little political power in either the UK or Canada so I could not help it. I sympathised with him less when he said his issue wasn't so much with having a UK figure on their money, but that the Queen wasn't 'hot' enough. As he didn't find Elizabeth much of a QILF he suggested Princess Diana or Kate Middleton. I haven't had a chance to talk to the Canadian parliament as of yet, but I'm sure the Diana dimes will be in circulation by December. Unfortunately, we had to part in downtown Ottawa and as he told me that he still loved his ex-wife I did a mental awkward turtle.
We also saw a light show at the parliament (videos/photos on facebook) which was really good. Unless you were Jess. If you were Jess you were probably trying to shake off an over friendly International student. We thought Jess might be living in a 3 person room for the rest of the year for a while.
Yesterday we had convocation in the morning. We went for the free t-shirts and ended up with 2 hours of sitting in a room and listening to such classics as 'Time after Time' and 'Crazy Frog'. Never heard them in the same playlist before I have to say. After the first hour or so even the pep rallyers could keep up their inflatable clappers, and if they had failed..what hope was there for the rest of us. When it finally started there was a bagpipe lead procession which caused a certain degree of culture shock. We were informed of the emergency exits in case the shit kicked off and then we were good to go. An hour of speeches followed which I dipped in and out of. The strange part came when we had to pledge our life to Carleton. 'Will you promise to practice academic integrity? I will.' 'Will you promise to love your time at Carleton? I might if you let he have a lie in past 8.30am you robots.' With this done I felt an eerie sort of feeling as if I had just sold my soul to the devil.
After an afternoon nap was the evening 'entertainment'. First off - Carleton's got Talent. Before I came to Canada I was worried that they didn't have a sense of irony, but tonight I was proved wrong. After an improv story about Pogs and a radio, an ok dance troop, a poem about passion and a band singing terrifying songs about how we are all warriors and need to save the children the judges had the 'difficult' decision of picking a winner. The dance troop got their cheque and we all tried to forget the atrocities we had just witnessed. Next was 'The Buried Life' - a group of guys who go around helping others and crossing things off their Bucket List. It was an 'inspirational talk'. Usually that kind of thing makes me want to vomit my soul, but I actually thought this was really good to listen to. It hasn't made me feel like I have the power to change the world, or to ride a bull for 8 seconds, but it still made for interesting listening. The evening did take a somewhat interesting turn though when they opened the floor for people to say what they want to do before they die. Some things were pretty mundane/attention seeking/excuses for hugs from the guys on stage, but some were extremely serious. This was DEFINITELY culture shock. I could never imagine in England people standing up in front of masses of people talking about their abandonment, incest, traumas etc. It was both fascinating and surreal. I did feel for these people, but I also felt myself slipping into a sort of twilight zone. And for a moment there I thought I was actually starring in the real life version of Mean Girls:
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Hungover on School Spirit.
So far this blog has essentially been meaningless photos of Busted, hands, Take That (God bless their souls), but sometimes an event happens in a person life where the only place you feel you can go is the internet. Many good things are occurring, but I am BRITISH! I complain! I moan! I vent! I am not so sure these words exist in the Canada mentality. Although it must be said that I have a huge amount of respect from these people. They cheer, stomp and pep themselves up from dawn til dusk in blister inducing heat (literally blistering - my legs make me look like an alien creature. No man will ever love me again.)
Actually, I'm going to a time jump because all this pep/stress has made me feel reckless and like breaking the rules. Yesterday was.....intense and sweaty. Indescribably so.
The first flight was 8 hours of joy. The time in Heathrow passed surprisingly quickly. I almost killed a small child in the security queue and my boots apparently aroused suspicion. I was selected for all the 'random checks'. It was so tedious I thought I was going to explode (although I suppose that is what security feared in the first place). I was a bit concerned when I got on the plane as my neighbour, Andy, was a nervous flyer. I am also a nervous flyer, but he was a twitcher and a safety instruction reader. Though, luckily through the aid of conversation he curbed his fears during take off. He said that it was the best take off his life. I can't say I'm surprised. I have often been commended on my talent for given men pleasure as they go up. I spent 8 hours watching films, playing Bejeweled and listening to music. There was some turbulence which made me consider writing a will./last words, but I didn't have any pens or paper so I just chowed down on my ice cream instead and decided to die refreshed.
Slightly before landing they gave us a list of the things we had to do when we arrived in the US. The list was long. Leave the plane (which when at the back of the plane is an effort), go through immigration, take bags, recheck bags, security, trek to the other end of the terminal, get on plane. I think we had an hour and twenty minutes. With this on mind, on landing in Detroit I had 'Eye of the Tiger' on full blast as we touched down and it spurred me on. This optimism was quashed when we ended up at the back of every queue we entered. I also had the shame of accidentally handing the man at immigration a note from Jess in my passport. It had a heart on it. The rule about US immigration is they don't like joking around. I thought they might deport me there and then. Which could potentially mean spending another 8 hours with the scary flight attendant who I couldn't look in the eye in case she turned me to stone.
Anyway, by the time we were nearing the front of the security line we had about 20 minutes til our flight took off. This was not looking good. After a body scan or two I half donned my boots and then we began our less than leisurely sprint. We asked the age old question - if you have to go up an escalator and then down one of equal size...why don't you just cut out the escalators all together. A highlight of the sweat filled, adrenaline filled jog was a tunnel which had bright lights and tension music. We then ran 10 gates past our departure gate. Thinking we had missed it we were about to sit when we realised we were at the wrong gate, by which time I had removed my shoes. This twist in the tale meant that running was no longer an option. As I watched Jess sprint into the distance, I shimmied along the ground like a mental patient on a day out. Luckily they held the flight for us, and even though we were definitely carrying more than the allowed amount of liquid just in pure sweat on our bodies, they let us board. The plane was fairly small and uninspiring. No life vests, one flight attendant, not very many people. Luckily thanks to the 8 hour flight it felt like it lasted a matter of minutes. Then we had arrived. LIES LIES LIES! Jess managed to dodge the immigration's evil clutches where I had a good hour long wait watching people being deported and slowly dying of dehydration.
BUT WE MADE IT! And then things were pleasant for a good while.
Then morning was broken, and all through the building there was not one sound......until 'WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO' at 9am. The move-in committee started their rounds. This is what perplexes me. I can't understand this culture of cheering at the mundane in such an over enthusiastic way. I have never carried a six pack of toilet roll and felt compelled to cheer myself on. Staring out the window was an experience in itself. Bunches of people in coloured shirts, cheering and shouting. Sometimes together, sometimes in competition. I have no idea what anyone was saying. I have never felt more foreign in my life. I'm almost craving Luxembourgish, because I know it is a lost cause trying to understand it so I can just zone out.
This early stuff was tolerable. We sorted out some admin stuff which took a LOOOOOOOOONG time. Got our orientation kits, which seemed mainly to contain condoms - so if you read the part about my heat blisters and it has got you in the mood at least you know that I am well prepared. We also went shopping at Walmart for supplies. It was in an organised event, but it felt more disorganised then ever. After endless pottering around, we finally got there with only an hour til our floor meeting's start. We walked around in a haze. It was big, things were everywhere, announcements constantly over the speakers. I thought I was going to vomit. Especially when I realised that apparently Canadian women don't use spray deo. I have decided I am going to have 9 months using man deodorant..although I have used most of my can already today. I have never had weather so humid. I am craving me this -40 winter. We also had our campus card lanyards around our neck, and regular folk kept looking at us and making comments. I felt like part of a club...but wasn't sure if I wanted to be part of it.
After getting home and missing the meeting - along with the chance to meet everyone on our floor (smooth move, smooth move) we had a BBQ (inside?) and then headed over to the Ravenspalooza. What is the Ravenspalooza you ask? I HAVE NO IDEA. Picture hundreds of students crammed into a sports centre, music pumping, body heat spreading like wildfire and for some reason a massive slide. The first this we saw was a group of stunt men. I have no issue with this. They were talented, but for every stunt there was so much build up to build pep. Every 2 seconds there was a new cheer or chant. I have no idea what we were supposed to be chanted. It sounded like enthusiastic grunting. After a breath of fresh air, we went back inside for another dose of spirit. This time the pep rallyers had taken to the stage. I have no idea what happened after this. There were more chants, giant beach balls, subliminal ice hockey messages and so much more. A personal highlight was 'We Will Rock You' with special Carleton lyrics. 'with a smile on your face, a big brief case, taking your classes all over the place'. I'm thinking whoever wrote these lyrics gave themselves extra spirit points for that one. It was all so much. You got drunk on confusion. Everyone was cheering, chanting and going mental over absolutely nothing. People here can cheer on demand. In some ways it makes you question whether happiness truly exists over here. It seems pep runs in their blood, but then in another way the chanting is just meaningless. I managed to avoid high fives from people holding the doors open. Even the cash machine wishes you an 'excellent' day once you have used it. These people are surely lovely, but also very likely partly superhuman. They seem to have some endless energy reserve which allows them to pep it out all day long. I felt like the exchangers were the only ones with too much pride/confusion to make a massive effort. We did cheer too. Ironically. I'm not sure how much self-mocking occurs here, so I'm trying to lay low as my personality stems from the ability for self mocking.
Either way, our night ended fairly abruptly when we had taken in so much school spirit I thought I might pass out under the weight of my own awesomeness. On the way home we passed a boy getting done by campus patrol for drinking vodka in public. This was shortly before we were informed that freshers week at Carleton is also a DRY WEEK. At home I don't need to drink that much, but right now I feel the only spirit I want needs to come with at least 37.5% alcohol and a dash of coke.
This has been a rather long post so I am going to go and possibly attempt to sleep off the jet lag while the sweet vuvuzuela symphony continues outside the window. Oh. And the orientation people are going to knock on our doors at 8am tomorrow. Hello earplugs. 8am is no time for pep. I think I'm going to have to become a drug user...oh well.
All my love,
Jet lag and stress xox
GO RAVENS!!!!!!!!
Actually, I'm going to a time jump because all this pep/stress has made me feel reckless and like breaking the rules. Yesterday was.....intense and sweaty. Indescribably so.
The first flight was 8 hours of joy. The time in Heathrow passed surprisingly quickly. I almost killed a small child in the security queue and my boots apparently aroused suspicion. I was selected for all the 'random checks'. It was so tedious I thought I was going to explode (although I suppose that is what security feared in the first place). I was a bit concerned when I got on the plane as my neighbour, Andy, was a nervous flyer. I am also a nervous flyer, but he was a twitcher and a safety instruction reader. Though, luckily through the aid of conversation he curbed his fears during take off. He said that it was the best take off his life. I can't say I'm surprised. I have often been commended on my talent for given men pleasure as they go up. I spent 8 hours watching films, playing Bejeweled and listening to music. There was some turbulence which made me consider writing a will./last words, but I didn't have any pens or paper so I just chowed down on my ice cream instead and decided to die refreshed.
Slightly before landing they gave us a list of the things we had to do when we arrived in the US. The list was long. Leave the plane (which when at the back of the plane is an effort), go through immigration, take bags, recheck bags, security, trek to the other end of the terminal, get on plane. I think we had an hour and twenty minutes. With this on mind, on landing in Detroit I had 'Eye of the Tiger' on full blast as we touched down and it spurred me on. This optimism was quashed when we ended up at the back of every queue we entered. I also had the shame of accidentally handing the man at immigration a note from Jess in my passport. It had a heart on it. The rule about US immigration is they don't like joking around. I thought they might deport me there and then. Which could potentially mean spending another 8 hours with the scary flight attendant who I couldn't look in the eye in case she turned me to stone.
Anyway, by the time we were nearing the front of the security line we had about 20 minutes til our flight took off. This was not looking good. After a body scan or two I half donned my boots and then we began our less than leisurely sprint. We asked the age old question - if you have to go up an escalator and then down one of equal size...why don't you just cut out the escalators all together. A highlight of the sweat filled, adrenaline filled jog was a tunnel which had bright lights and tension music. We then ran 10 gates past our departure gate. Thinking we had missed it we were about to sit when we realised we were at the wrong gate, by which time I had removed my shoes. This twist in the tale meant that running was no longer an option. As I watched Jess sprint into the distance, I shimmied along the ground like a mental patient on a day out. Luckily they held the flight for us, and even though we were definitely carrying more than the allowed amount of liquid just in pure sweat on our bodies, they let us board. The plane was fairly small and uninspiring. No life vests, one flight attendant, not very many people. Luckily thanks to the 8 hour flight it felt like it lasted a matter of minutes. Then we had arrived. LIES LIES LIES! Jess managed to dodge the immigration's evil clutches where I had a good hour long wait watching people being deported and slowly dying of dehydration.
BUT WE MADE IT! And then things were pleasant for a good while.
Then morning was broken, and all through the building there was not one sound......until 'WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO' at 9am. The move-in committee started their rounds. This is what perplexes me. I can't understand this culture of cheering at the mundane in such an over enthusiastic way. I have never carried a six pack of toilet roll and felt compelled to cheer myself on. Staring out the window was an experience in itself. Bunches of people in coloured shirts, cheering and shouting. Sometimes together, sometimes in competition. I have no idea what anyone was saying. I have never felt more foreign in my life. I'm almost craving Luxembourgish, because I know it is a lost cause trying to understand it so I can just zone out.
This early stuff was tolerable. We sorted out some admin stuff which took a LOOOOOOOOONG time. Got our orientation kits, which seemed mainly to contain condoms - so if you read the part about my heat blisters and it has got you in the mood at least you know that I am well prepared. We also went shopping at Walmart for supplies. It was in an organised event, but it felt more disorganised then ever. After endless pottering around, we finally got there with only an hour til our floor meeting's start. We walked around in a haze. It was big, things were everywhere, announcements constantly over the speakers. I thought I was going to vomit. Especially when I realised that apparently Canadian women don't use spray deo. I have decided I am going to have 9 months using man deodorant..although I have used most of my can already today. I have never had weather so humid. I am craving me this -40 winter. We also had our campus card lanyards around our neck, and regular folk kept looking at us and making comments. I felt like part of a club...but wasn't sure if I wanted to be part of it.
After getting home and missing the meeting - along with the chance to meet everyone on our floor (smooth move, smooth move) we had a BBQ (inside?) and then headed over to the Ravenspalooza. What is the Ravenspalooza you ask? I HAVE NO IDEA. Picture hundreds of students crammed into a sports centre, music pumping, body heat spreading like wildfire and for some reason a massive slide. The first this we saw was a group of stunt men. I have no issue with this. They were talented, but for every stunt there was so much build up to build pep. Every 2 seconds there was a new cheer or chant. I have no idea what we were supposed to be chanted. It sounded like enthusiastic grunting. After a breath of fresh air, we went back inside for another dose of spirit. This time the pep rallyers had taken to the stage. I have no idea what happened after this. There were more chants, giant beach balls, subliminal ice hockey messages and so much more. A personal highlight was 'We Will Rock You' with special Carleton lyrics. 'with a smile on your face, a big brief case, taking your classes all over the place'. I'm thinking whoever wrote these lyrics gave themselves extra spirit points for that one. It was all so much. You got drunk on confusion. Everyone was cheering, chanting and going mental over absolutely nothing. People here can cheer on demand. In some ways it makes you question whether happiness truly exists over here. It seems pep runs in their blood, but then in another way the chanting is just meaningless. I managed to avoid high fives from people holding the doors open. Even the cash machine wishes you an 'excellent' day once you have used it. These people are surely lovely, but also very likely partly superhuman. They seem to have some endless energy reserve which allows them to pep it out all day long. I felt like the exchangers were the only ones with too much pride/confusion to make a massive effort. We did cheer too. Ironically. I'm not sure how much self-mocking occurs here, so I'm trying to lay low as my personality stems from the ability for self mocking.
Either way, our night ended fairly abruptly when we had taken in so much school spirit I thought I might pass out under the weight of my own awesomeness. On the way home we passed a boy getting done by campus patrol for drinking vodka in public. This was shortly before we were informed that freshers week at Carleton is also a DRY WEEK. At home I don't need to drink that much, but right now I feel the only spirit I want needs to come with at least 37.5% alcohol and a dash of coke.
This has been a rather long post so I am going to go and possibly attempt to sleep off the jet lag while the sweet vuvuzuela symphony continues outside the window. Oh. And the orientation people are going to knock on our doors at 8am tomorrow. Hello earplugs. 8am is no time for pep. I think I'm going to have to become a drug user...oh well.
All my love,
Jet lag and stress xox
GO RAVENS!!!!!!!!
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Leaving Luxembourg tomorrow.
As I leave continental Europe, I feel that I should leave it to Europe to play me out....
We've had a good run. I'll bring you back a moose next year.
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