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Wednesday, November 2, 2011

Yeah. I know that you wanna be Canadian, please.

Hello.

I'm getting infrequent with this blog thing. It is probably a sign that I should quit altogether when I feel my thoughts are too boring to write down even fairly occasionally. This isn't to say I'm not enjoying Canada, but apparently it is slowly draining all the creativity out of me. Or maybe it is simply because I spend so much time being sarcastic and abrasive to my fellow man that I don't have enough scathing wit left over to type onto the internet. Furthermore when typing this I accidentally closed the window for my blog which is probably a sign from God that it wasn't meant to be. Well God. If I learned anything in class today it is that mankind spends too much time blaming other people instead of getting down to work. I understand that to call writing on my blog work is a bit farfetched, if anything it is procrastination but the point is still valid. And you know what class I learned that bit of wisdom in? Children's Literature. Studying Holes. I don't think it would be an understatement to say that every time I read Holes I feel my soul develop and grow. The joy is tangible, and the sorrow burned my heart like rattlesnake-venom nail polish when I had finished the final page. I am considering talking to the education board in Exeter (not sure if this exists, but I'll form it if I have to) and insist that Holes becomes mandatory for all Exeter students. I think I'm also reading Harry Potter next term...will remind me of Exeter..and cider...and pizza..and pub quiz..and...and that is about all I can remember about 1st year.

But why try to remember last year anyway when I could talk about the past week or so in Canadia. It has been both a good and bad week. My ambivalent nature stretches as far as the eye can see, which right now is to the corner of the duvet as I wearily hit keys at random and try to remember what has been going on in my life. I could have done without the academic side of life to be frank. I had a presentation in Drama which went..average, but you know..at least it went. I had a French test which was...boff. And I got an essay back to redraft and found out that I've been misusing modifiers like a bitch. I think this is supposed to distress me and make me feel I need to modify my modifiers or go home, but I choose to ignore it. I think if someone can paraphrase a Macbeth speech using the words "pussy ass bitches" that a few misused modifiers can be allowed to slip through the English net. In my most recent Children's Lit class I did have to come out of the cultural closet and acknowledge my Britishness after a long time biting my tongue. I had one of my first experiences of people going into shock in hearing my accent. Yes. I do know the Queen and I was in the front row for the royal wedding. I have been spotted for my accent before. When I was tie-dying a girl told me because I was British I was her new best friend - I never saw her again. I don't mind being picked out as an exchange student. It just feels awkward answering the same questions. They always ask where I'm from and this sends me into a panic as I'm not sure where I am from exactly. They are only being polite so they don't want to hear me fumble for a proper answer - "Erm erm well I'm kinda from England, in Sheffield...in the North...but I don't live there...most of the time. I live in Luxembourg. Sometimes, but I go to university in Exeter. Sometimes. And now I am in Canada for a year." By the time this sentence is done they have usually got half way through setting up a make-shift noose so I usually just plump for "Sheffield." It's an old'un but a good'un. I also feel awkward when they ask me if I like Canada. I mean I do like it, but how would they react if I said 'no. Your country sucks and I'd rather die than have to be here for longer than 8 months." I tend to just say "Yeah. It is really pretty. Very different but pretty." I do have more thoughts than that on Canada, but I think these people want small talk, not a monologue.

A highlight of this week (unless you are a Toronto Maple Leafs fan) was the hockey game. I have to say I felt a little more than cool rolling up to the stadium with a Canada hat and senator tattoos dotted about my person. I think the people on the bus liked my attire also because they couldn't help but to stare. They looked at me, and then at each other and giggled as if to say "I want you.", but I had to simply give them a slight bow of my maple hat and turn away while trying to swallow the pain of the fact that we would never be together. The game itself was an emotional thrill ride. The Senators romped (ha) to victory of course. I may never see another game, just so that they keep an 100% win rate in my eyes. There weren't too many proper on the rink tussles, but on the bus the gloves came off and the poorly formulated arguments came out.

Toronto Fan - The Sens suck. Toronto is way better.
Sens Fan - Yeah, well if Ottawa is bad it is only because our men went to war while the Toronto men stayed home.

Sens Fan - I'll support Toronto when they visit sick children in Ottawa hospitals.
Toronto Fan - Your team may visit sick kids, but we've got loads more sick kids in Toronto.

I'm not sure it is scientifically proven yet that having sick children enhances the hockey skills of a particular city, so hopefully Ottawa city council will hold off on poisoning School lunches for the time being. Although, if it does turn out to be so then the Senators will always come first in my eyes and in my heart.

The rest of the weekend was pretty pleasant (my go-to word for Canada). Played some pool down the Fox and Feather (making myself sound all local and like I know what I'm talking about here). Also drank some long island ice tea and dreamt of Amber Rooms. They were still satisfying though. I watched a film with Frog Boy for a while, until he 'went to the bathroom' for half an hour and I was destined to watch alone...even though he had fought tooth and nail to gain control of the television and had been close to having his head smashed through the TV in the process - but karma worked her magic eventually... Nothing much happened that night..just sitting and chatting and an unnecessary glass of apple vodka, but once again..pleasant times were had. Well..it was pleasant probably unless you decided to wrestle your bigger and stronger roomate while in an intoxicated state. Doing this will probably result in a broken ankle. I hate feet and the best of times, but the foot I saw on Frog Boy's leg made my stomach turn a little, but it wasn't his fault (kinda).

I think that is pretty much all that I can remember that has happened around these parts. Oh. I did take a trip down to the Canal with some guys from the floor at 3am. That was an experience. I watched the stars and wrote my name in the frost on the picnic table while they engaged in general Canal activities and played cowboy music (I wish this was a joke). I think my cool points went through the roof. It was a reasonably educational trip, however. I learned that I have both a lesbian crush and Jess and the boy with the Frog and that 'inevitably' we are going to end up having a drunken threesome. Start up the video cameras and lose your inhibitions - it has been foretold. Lies. 

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