Hello world. Although I have noticed that a large chunk of people who read this are located in Ottawa so I always have to remember to be careful not to offend..or not to offend too much anyway. One guy didn't take too well to being called passive aggressive. However, he vaguely reminds me of a fisher price man:
So I'm not concerned. Also, if he is mad...he's passive aggressive so really what is he going to do. As a side note, my computer temporarily crashed while getting the picture of the Fisher Price Man, so if anyone has a right to be angry it should really be me.
Anyway, so yeah. I'm writing a blog and for once I am not in my French class. I am not avoiding work. I am writing because I have free time. Time which is for me. Time where I do not have to think and it is lovely. And to think all it took to get here was a couple of nervous breakdowns and about 11,000 words worth of essaygold silver bronze pewter shit. They still need some editing (although some of them are beyond repair most likely), but dammit they are still done in my eyes. I do still have 2 books left to read this semester...and by this semester I mean BY NEXT WEEK yaaaaaaay. I have just finished a book - The Book Thief. It was in my children's lit class...it didn't seem very child appropriate. I don't remember THAT many books in my childhood where it ended "and then pretty much everyone died and humanity turned to shit". Although, the Jacqueline Wilson books of my youth were actually pretty horrible and serious in some respects, but luckily they used out-dated teen slang and cheerful illustrations
so by the end of it you aren't really that fussed about the fact that one of the main characters has fallen out of a window and died.
This whole blog is supposed to be about my experiences in Canada though so I should probably talk vaguely of stuff that has been going out here in this beast of country. Well..summer came. It was hot. People laughed and played music out on the grass till the small hours. I slept with my window open and was still too warm. I sat writing my essays unable to shed tears because the moment they fell they evaporated in the blistering heat etc. etc. And then friday came and summer was over. Really. It was so weird. I probably have experienced heatwaves before in my life..but in Canada??! It blew my mind. It was nice to get a little bit of warmth during my year abroad though (apart from 10 days in Miami of course). I mean it was warm when we got here, but hideous warm. It was the kind of warm where you want to have 100 showers a day and when you arrive in jeans and you get heat blisters and then you feel vile and can't wear shorts and then get more heat blisters and then when you shower you look at yourself in shame and wonder how any man could ever love you. Then you have a shower and feel clean and everything feels pretty much ok again until you've sweated out another bucket and you have to go through this ordeal again.
Anyway, enough about puss and sweat and more about me. It is now 4 weeks until I go home and it is pretty exciting/weird/not soon enough in some ways. I didn't really think about home too much until Charles came out. a) because he's an all right guy and I would like to spend more time with him than 2 weeks out of 8 months. b) because when he left there was only 2 months to go and it started to really feel like I was going home soon and it was like...Waaaah? Where did the time go? I still have stuff to do and exams, but I really must crawl out of my lair a few more times before I go home and actually see some stuff in Ottawa. I do in fact have THREE events coming up on my calendar though. Yes. THREE! Tomorrow I'm watching Alyson Davies perform on campus which I'm exciting about because it has been in the pipe line since..the dawn of time. On saturday - I'm going out to celebrate my 21st. This means I'll have to make a trip to the LCBO. A place which is just a distant memory this term. On wednesday - I turn 21 (Please send cards/presents ASAP) and my Dad flies out to Ottawa...so I guess the week he is here I might even leave my room every day. If you can even believe something of that sort is even possible.
I am also in a play on Monday for my Drama class so you know..if you are at Carleton. I hope you have a nice evening and I will see you after the performance. I'm only in it for a few minutes, but it's still quite fun. There was more to do last term in that class, but it is still different to all my other classes and offers a bit of reprieve from monotonous lectures about Quebec writers and how Folk Tales might have travelled from Venice to Naples. We had to perform it the other day for grade 9-11 students. I'm not 100% what that means, but they were definitely a few years younger than me. Unsurprisingly. I'm nearly 21. I should probably start checking out retirement homes. Having children there was probably more intimidating than the real thing on Monday. I've been a grade 9-11 before..and god I/You/We were horrible. What they really thought of the play will forever remain a mystery, but on the whole I think it went reasonably well. I was amused by the fact that they thought one of the other people in the class who acts with a kinda faux-british accent was actually British. I can understand why they think that because of what damn films have made us look like, but it is all lies. I can detect a fake british accent a mile off. Really, if we spoke in those fake accents do they have any idea how long it would take to get things done? It is so bloody slow. Although, I wouldn't say no to speaking like Patrick Stewart, because he is a genius:
But it made me slightly concerned that perhaps people think that I don't sound british. It has happened since I've been here. Twice. Once on the bus by and old man who was defiant that I was lying about my heritage and another girl in my Children's lit class. Me: blah blah blah. Her: You have an accent! (I have issues with that from the start. Everyone has an accent. There is no standard voice, but ho hum. That's another debate). Me: Yes...I'm from.... Her: NO! Let me guess. Well....it definitely isn't a british accent...
So, before I sign off the night and go do something wild and exciting like chug some water and watch the Apprentice UK I just want to make it clear that although a select few british people talk like the Queen and ride a swan to their luncheons at the croquet club and a few others have a knees up in cockney London before climbing the apples and pears to bed...the rest of us speak in many ways, just like in every country in the world.
Anyway, so yeah. I'm writing a blog and for once I am not in my French class. I am not avoiding work. I am writing because I have free time. Time which is for me. Time where I do not have to think and it is lovely. And to think all it took to get here was a couple of nervous breakdowns and about 11,000 words worth of essay
This whole blog is supposed to be about my experiences in Canada though so I should probably talk vaguely of stuff that has been going out here in this beast of country. Well..summer came. It was hot. People laughed and played music out on the grass till the small hours. I slept with my window open and was still too warm. I sat writing my essays unable to shed tears because the moment they fell they evaporated in the blistering heat etc. etc. And then friday came and summer was over. Really. It was so weird. I probably have experienced heatwaves before in my life..but in Canada??! It blew my mind. It was nice to get a little bit of warmth during my year abroad though (apart from 10 days in Miami of course). I mean it was warm when we got here, but hideous warm. It was the kind of warm where you want to have 100 showers a day and when you arrive in jeans and you get heat blisters and then you feel vile and can't wear shorts and then get more heat blisters and then when you shower you look at yourself in shame and wonder how any man could ever love you. Then you have a shower and feel clean and everything feels pretty much ok again until you've sweated out another bucket and you have to go through this ordeal again.
Anyway, enough about puss and sweat and more about me. It is now 4 weeks until I go home and it is pretty exciting/weird/not soon enough in some ways. I didn't really think about home too much until Charles came out. a) because he's an all right guy and I would like to spend more time with him than 2 weeks out of 8 months. b) because when he left there was only 2 months to go and it started to really feel like I was going home soon and it was like...Waaaah? Where did the time go? I still have stuff to do and exams, but I really must crawl out of my lair a few more times before I go home and actually see some stuff in Ottawa. I do in fact have THREE events coming up on my calendar though. Yes. THREE! Tomorrow I'm watching Alyson Davies perform on campus which I'm exciting about because it has been in the pipe line since..the dawn of time. On saturday - I'm going out to celebrate my 21st. This means I'll have to make a trip to the LCBO. A place which is just a distant memory this term. On wednesday - I turn 21 (Please send cards/presents ASAP) and my Dad flies out to Ottawa...so I guess the week he is here I might even leave my room every day. If you can even believe something of that sort is even possible.
I am also in a play on Monday for my Drama class so you know..if you are at Carleton. I hope you have a nice evening and I will see you after the performance. I'm only in it for a few minutes, but it's still quite fun. There was more to do last term in that class, but it is still different to all my other classes and offers a bit of reprieve from monotonous lectures about Quebec writers and how Folk Tales might have travelled from Venice to Naples. We had to perform it the other day for grade 9-11 students. I'm not 100% what that means, but they were definitely a few years younger than me. Unsurprisingly. I'm nearly 21. I should probably start checking out retirement homes. Having children there was probably more intimidating than the real thing on Monday. I've been a grade 9-11 before..and god I/You/We were horrible. What they really thought of the play will forever remain a mystery, but on the whole I think it went reasonably well. I was amused by the fact that they thought one of the other people in the class who acts with a kinda faux-british accent was actually British. I can understand why they think that because of what damn films have made us look like, but it is all lies. I can detect a fake british accent a mile off. Really, if we spoke in those fake accents do they have any idea how long it would take to get things done? It is so bloody slow. Although, I wouldn't say no to speaking like Patrick Stewart, because he is a genius:
Me:
Britain at it's finest.
Actually. I lied. I just realised what the title of this post was and how I haven't touched upon it at all. So I will take two more moments of your time. As I said I have been a bit of a recluse as of late, but in the last few days I have been making more of an effort. Well. I was partially made to leave my room by Eli who needed me to edit his essay. His essay due for over a week ago and which contained few words which exist in the English language. He also told me I had to italicise his quotes and write him a conclusion before he went off for a relaxing shower. And isn't shameless manipulation really what friendship is all about anyway? I also left my room last night where I was invited to play Dungeons and Dragons. I had hoped that it would serve as something to do for an hour or so before bed and that I would be able to take some joy in mocking it, but it wasn't even worth mocking. I think we 'played' for about an hour. I never made a move. I spent most of the time slumped by the bed on a pillow, lying quietly as my eyes glazed over and I contemplated whether perhaps purgatory and life were the same thing. On the plus side, when I went to bed I managed to get to sleep within 5 minutes of putting my head down on the pillow. I can't recommend Dungeons and Dragons for entertainment purposes but it is a damn good substitute for a sleeping pill. Although, the emotional scarring and guilt you feel after an hour of Dungeons of Dragons is surely a lot more painful and long lasting than the side effects of even the strongest of sleeping pills.
Good night.
Actually. I lied. I just realised what the title of this post was and how I haven't touched upon it at all. So I will take two more moments of your time. As I said I have been a bit of a recluse as of late, but in the last few days I have been making more of an effort. Well. I was partially made to leave my room by Eli who needed me to edit his essay. His essay due for over a week ago and which contained few words which exist in the English language. He also told me I had to italicise his quotes and write him a conclusion before he went off for a relaxing shower. And isn't shameless manipulation really what friendship is all about anyway? I also left my room last night where I was invited to play Dungeons and Dragons. I had hoped that it would serve as something to do for an hour or so before bed and that I would be able to take some joy in mocking it, but it wasn't even worth mocking. I think we 'played' for about an hour. I never made a move. I spent most of the time slumped by the bed on a pillow, lying quietly as my eyes glazed over and I contemplated whether perhaps purgatory and life were the same thing. On the plus side, when I went to bed I managed to get to sleep within 5 minutes of putting my head down on the pillow. I can't recommend Dungeons and Dragons for entertainment purposes but it is a damn good substitute for a sleeping pill. Although, the emotional scarring and guilt you feel after an hour of Dungeons of Dragons is surely a lot more painful and long lasting than the side effects of even the strongest of sleeping pills.
Good night.
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