A series of letters and lists, to make life complete:

Dear sweater,

I do not understand what exactly you’re doing, or why you don’t look exactly like the picture even when I follow the directions you are giving me, but I will continue knitting you because you’re cute, knit up quickly, and in the end, aren’t that complicated.

Dear life,

Please stop becoming so stressful and complicated. I appreciate that you want me to be busy, and I understand that ultimately, it is my own fault that things are as crazy as they are, but really, I didn’t ask for all of this. Please slow down so that I could.

Dear co-op housing people,

Please call more often than once every blue moon. I would like to understand how you can say you want us in for April 1st, but take over a week to call me after I submit my application, then almost another week to call me after you cancel our original appointment, even though you said you’d call the next day or a day later. Please understand that the Smooshy and I cannot necessarily meet you six or seven hours later in the same day, just because it is convenient for you. My schedule is fairly flexible, but his is not, and you are the ones who want both of us there, which I do understand.

Dear professors,

Thank you for finally returning my calls and emails. I understand that you are busy people, especially now, and I appreciate that you have time to meet me. It is vaguely frustrating to have to leave my job early twice this week and come in late (possibly) on another day to accommodate this, but I will do so, because the university has decreed it necessary for me to suddenly sign on with a research supervisor and thesis subject a full year before I planned to start, some five or six months before your original deadline, and at least six months before I thought I had to have everything finalized in my head, let alone paperwork.

Dear university,

Fuck you. You tried to fuck me in my undergrad, but I wouldn’t let you. Now, you’re trying to fuck me in my grad, and it looks as though you may succeed. I’m watching you, and I’m somewhat pleased that you don’t offer a PhD program, because I wouldn’t want to take it there anyways.

Dear me,

1. Enjoy the fact that you will have a motorcycle out and on the road this weekend.
2. Remember to call the local centre to have the bike checked out and fixed, where required.
3. Pay your bills.
4. Put money in your Royal account for your debt and your mom.
5. Have gift finished at least 2 weeks before the wedding.
6. Attend all wedding-related events wherever schedule allows.
7. Assist in planning of non-tame bachelorette party, should schedule allow.
8. Try to resist counting down to April 10th. At least, pretend you’re not.
9. Meet with professors: 1 down, 2 to go. Avoid begging, it’s unprofessional.
10. Turn in all related paperwork before April 7th.
11. Avoid killing professor.
12. Put together draft paper for Wednesday, March 29th.
13. Meet with classmates to create powerpoint slides for presentation on April 5th.
14. Submit first final paper for April 5th.
15. Present first final paper for April 5th.
16. Write up justification, *grounded in science*, for second final paper, for April something.
17. Submit second final paper, group exercise, for April14th (may be me submitting, may not).
18. Remember to breathe.

Dear work,

Why are you getting busy now, after so long where you weren’t? While I appreciate the thought and the effort, ohmygod I already have a lot on my mind. But that’s okay, it keeps me from wishing I could use the plastic knife I have here to slit my wrists. Or someone else’s.

Dear weight,

Please go away. While the Smooshy may appreciate the fact that my butt apparently wiggles when I sneeze naked, I’m not sure I do.

Dear sweet tooth,

You and I have been friends and enemies for a long time. I think we need to start seeing other people, though.

Dear motivation,

Please arrive soon.

Dear sex drive,

I miss you.

Proving once more that I am, beneath it all, a heartless human being, the abandoned kitten in Trainspotting seemed to affect me more than the dead baby. I was actually surprised that the baby survived as long as it did, and didn’t have much sympathy for the addicts when it died.

I did, however, feel bad for Tommy’s character; he had a bad break, and it wasn’t his fault in the least.

So, I’m back from the east coast, and after all the rush and panic that took place to make sure I had everything ready before I’d left, you’d think things would’ve calmed down a little now, right? Hah.

Let’s list the things I was trying to arrange before I left:
1. Finish my paper (which was due, via email, on the 20th).
2. Wait for co-op housing company to call me back to arrange for our interview.
3. Wait for professors 2 and 3 to call me back so that I could have a supervisor registered (and now professor 4, since I’ve just emailed a new person).
4. Have my annual physical with my GP.
5. Try to finish the wedding gift for my cousin.

I’m sure there are other things, but we’ll get to those.

Here’s how the journey unfolded, in brief:

Thursday, March 16: Fly into Nova Scotia for approximately 9:30 p.m., local time. Drive to friend of the family’s house in Dartmouth, via rental car, to spend the night.
Friday, March 17: Pick up sister in Halifax after she finishes work. Drive to Quispamsis, New Brunswick, to stay with maternal grandparents.
Saturday, March 18: Cousin’s wedding. Attend.
Sunday, March 19: Drive to paternal grandfather’s home in Bedford, Nova Scotia. Stay the night with him and aunt.
Monday, March 20: Spend day in Bedford and Halifax. Spend night again.
Tuesday, March 21: Unplanned trip to Peggy’s Cove for gingerbread. Semi-unplanned drop off of sweater at uncle’s work in downtown Halifax. Leave on 4:55 p.m. flight to arrive home.

Now, during the first part of this journey, I had no access to internet and thus no email access. Not a big deal, except that when I emailed my paper to my prof on Thursday, I had requested he contact me at home or at work (also given) in order to confirm he had received my paper, since otherwise it would be counted as late. I didn’t hear from him, but there wasn’t much I could do.

Once I arrived in Halifax the second time (on the 19th), I checked my email. My prof said that he had (once again) extended the deadline, giving everyone until the 24th. He’d made this announcement in class on Wednesday, the 15th, a class I’d skipped so that I could stay home and finish my paper. Given my usual procrastinating style of working, this was the crunch day, although I had written the majority of it in previous days (longhand; for some reason that was how my brain was working that week). He was offering to look at everyone’s drafts, and offered me the same opportunity. I asked that he do so; he asked me to send him the paper, as he hadn’t received it (this email was one I’d gotten when I was away, but hadn’t read, since I knew I wouldn’t be able to do anything while gone). I sent it and received feedback, which I’ll be addressing tonight (again, the day before it’s due).

So that was issue 1. Now for issue 2, the co-op housing. They had called me on Friday or Saturday (while I was at my Nanny’s house, I just can’t remember which day) to ask if I could come in and meet with them on Monday. I said I couldn’t, that I wasn’t going to be in the province. They asked for Tuesday; I said I could do around or after 7 p.m., as my flight was due to arrive around 5:45 that night. I remembered after the fact that the Smooshy was off that day, so that was fortunate. We set everything up and I figured I’d pull a Scarlett and worry about how I’d arrange getting there with or without luggage later. I’ll come back to this one.

Issue 3, professors. Professor 2 hasn’t contacted me yet; I left him a voicemail yesterday. I’ll try talking to my classmate friend next to see if she has any suggestions/knows of his office hours. Professor 3 emailed me before I left and set up a 2:30 meeting on Wednesday the 22nd to meet. Great. She then called me on the 21st, when I was in Peggy’s Cove, to say she couldn’t make it, and could we reschedule for the following week. I said sure. She asked me whether I was currently enrolled (it was in the email), how I had gotten her name (through the descriptions in the booklet we were all given when we registered), what courses I was currently taken (I told her), whether my professors had given me her name (no, it was in the booklet and online), and I have the impression that she’s going to be an ‘interesting’ supervisor, if we both decide to go ahead together. Why is it that there are no good/reliable cultural studies-oriented professors? They’re all business/political communication, and I’m sorry, I cannot do that for 100 pages and a year and a half.

Just before the professor called, my phone rang and I didn’t have time to grab it. The housing company lady had called me to cancel/reschedule our appointment. She said she’d call yesterday or today to reschedule. She hasn’t left me a number at which I could reach her, of course, so it’s now going to be FUN to schedule this meeting around her schedule, mine, and the Smooshy’s (which is kind of the least flexible). *sigh*

Needless to say, I didn’t get my cousin’s wedding gift done in time. I’m only a few hours of work out of finishing it, but I’m trying to get R and N’s wedding gift done, too, and that’s for May 20th and involves more work. Plus at this point, it’s still the fairly fun stuff and not the annoying backstitching/daisy-chaining that remains on my cousin’s gift, so I prefer to do it. I’d like to get one gift done on time… and have I mentioned that I still haven’t finished anything for Greg and Madeleine? Again, the finishing details. They’re annoying. Not to mention, after having seen some of the other gifts they’ve received, I’m slightly embarrassed to give them mine, which aren’t nearly as nice or skilled in their turnout. Well actually, one of them is quite nice – just very unfinished. Again, le sigh.

My doctor’s appointment is tomorrow, and unless they reschedule it on me, it’s all good. I have to leave work early for it, but that shouldn’t be a problem.

I’m also supposed to help R and N move on Sunday, but my classmates chose that day to get together, so depending on timing, I might not be able to do both. I might be able to borrow my mom’s car, which would help matters (since my dad and I have decided that it’s probably still too early to get the bike out). And while we’re on the subject of the bike – I spoke with my current housing company a few weeks ago, and they asked if I might be willing to consider moving the bike. They said they couldn’t force me to, but they’d like it if I did, ‘cause of new tenants and a shortage of spots. I got swamped, I was under no pressure, so I didn’t get back to them right away. I got a letter in the mail today that said they were moving me, that I was paying a reduced rate for my spot and that wouldn’t change, and that I was to contact the super. I spoke to him, he said we basically had to move ASAP, ‘cause the tenant was using another tenant’s spot, and that he could help me move the bike (I had said that I was putting it together on Saturday, and asked without asking if that would be good enough; it wasn’t). I plan on telling him that the reason I hadn’t called sooner was multifold: swamped, out of town, and told I didn’t have to move. The thing I won’t be mentioning is that I had thought/hoped to be out of there very soon – possibly even for April 1st – and so hadn’t really felt the need to rush. I suppose I could offer to pay full price for the spot and guarantee my right to it, but I really don’t want to, and I kinda really dislike a lot of things about the building I’m in right now and the management, so whatever.

I was trying to fall asleep last night and I was having a lot of important thoughts, and now I can’t remember any of them. Such is always the way for me.

Okay, I'm sharing this with everyone I know, and now it's your turn.

Jim Theis wrote a book called 'The Eye of Argon.' It would seem it's notorious in some circles as being utterly incomprehensible, and I have to admit, what I've gotten through thus far would certainly support that.

However, I found a link to a guy who did his own MSTing of the book, and I have to say, this guy is funny. So now, I entreat you all to take several hours of your life and devote them to reading here, where Adam Cadre MSTs Jim Theis' Eye of Argon. Enjoy, and you're welcome.

A sample, definitely not unique in terms of humour or quality:

The paunchy noble's sagging round face flushed suddenly pale,

Crow: It flushed pale? Did it blanch red after that?

then pastily lit up to a lustrous cherry red radiance.

Crow: Hold me.

His lips trembled with malicious rage,

Tom: As opposed to good-natured rage.

while emitting a muffled sibilant gibberish.

Mike: "Mom, you just don't understand my generation's music!"
Tom: If anyone's an authority on gibberish, it's Jim Theis.

Do you think the Calgary Sun knew what they were doing with this headline?

The Calgary Sun, 2006.03.09
Editorial/Opinion, page 14

'TAINT ETHICAL

The link to the story is here if you want to read it, or want proof I didn't make it up. It just strikes me as being of somewhat... poor judgement, at the very least. Maybe it was funnier this morning, when I first saw it.

More information than you wanted (there's your warning).

My other nipple hurts, and I haven't a clue why. I've decided to blame the Smooshy, and I know he'll accept the blame, even though neither of us will have a clue as to why or even how it happened. I think I slept wrong, but really; how often does sleeping funny make your nipple hurt?

I also have a crick in my neck, but that's quite possibly unrelated.

How are you?

I just wish I could understand.

It's been a rough little while. Repairs on the shower took quite some time, which made me feel frustrated and grody. The guy was supposed to show up at 10 on Saturday to finalize the work; he arrived at 1:35, about 5 minutes after I'd resolved to bus to the gym in order to have a shower. I'd have gone to the Smooshy's apartment, but he was working that day.

So my Saturday felt like a bit of a waste, even if I wouldn't have done anything much different even with a working shower (make sense of that). I had a bath later that afternoon, and things were better.

Sunday the Smooshy came over (he'd slept at his place the last few nights, the first due to severe crabbiness and insomnia, and the second due to the ingestion of smokable substances), and we shared a shower. As has to happen when two bodies occupy a small amount of valuable, hot water space, we had to change places. During this transaction, the Smooshy lost his footing and was about to go backwards over the edge of the tub, more than likely hitting the toilet in a very painful manner when he did so. I tried to catch him, and ended up being the one slipping and connecting with the floor of the tub in a fairly painful manner. My poor right knee.

This was the same knee I'd bruised a few days earlier in my sliding attempt to catch Thena before she got outside. She still succeeded, but didn't go far, probably due to the weather.

So I hobbled painfully around the apartment for a few minutes, then grabbed a bag of frozen broccoli and arranged that over my knee while I watched some television. The Smooshy later used the same bag in the preparation of dinner. My knee was more or less back to normal the next day, and I was able to run on it last night at the gym, but some of the other exercises I was doing put some strain on it that I could tell could get bad if I persisted.

The same day, I cut my hand on a knife while putting dishes in the dishwasher. Not a very deep cut, but enough to be annoying every time I put my hands in my pockets on Monday.

Yesterday at the gym, I managed to slice the web of my right hand between my thumb and index finger, which has its painful and difficult moments. I also came down with a migraine last night that persisted into this morning, so it made for a cranky and somewhat emotional morning (sometimes it makes me much less able to deal with things, and I can get driven to tears over absolutely nothing).

On the plus side, I bought some pillow cases to cross stitch for my cousin's wedding (two different sets of two, plus a pillow sham to be ribbon-embroidered, which I'll be saving for someone else, possibly the parents), and I managed to complete one of them on Saturday, and it looks quite nice. I've also mostly completed one smoker's glove (I have just to knit the flap and then sew in ends), and I'm working on the second, as well as working again on my project for R and N. So aside from the fact that I'm doing zilch in the way of school work or reading, that part of things is going well.

I'm stressing myself out over school, and this whole moving thing isn't helping much either, I don't think. The Smooshy and I are getting better about being able to talk rationally and non-defensively about household issues, but it has its bad times. I got my hydro bill for the last two months, and it was at its highest ever (more than double what my last one was), and given my little spending sprees last week, that wasn't exactly a shining moment for me. Add that to the fact that the Smooshy is much like me in terms of household maintenance and jumping up to do chores (i.e., both of us would rather spend our days fucking around and doing nothing instead of tidying up), and he gets defensive at times when I ask him to do things... and it's stressful. I'm thinking that drawing up a chore chart when we move out might be one idea... or cleaning up before I go to my cousin's wedding and seeing how things are when I return is another.

There's a possibility we might end up moving into a four-bedroom townhouse (although the three-bedroom is more likely), which would give us each a room to do with as we please. Of course, if he continues on as he does at his own apartment and leaves dishes in his room/office, I might just have to kill him. He knows this though, so it's not a big surprise.

Maybe we just need to each have our own pots and pans, and then I don't have to care as much if his are gone or have rice left in them or don't get soaked or whatever. *sigh* All of this has left me with a great deal of sympathy for what my mom has gone through for the last ten hundred years. I think it means I won't be a stay-at-home mom, if I ever get around to breeding. Heh.

Poor Smooshy... having to read all this rantyness. Poor the rest of you, too. What else can I mention? It's 41 days until my real manager returns, not that we're counting down anything. I'm hoping the weather clears up soon, so I can start riding the motorcycle again (I had another dream last night about people riding motorcycles around me... some of the others have involved me riding one). I'm a little over 2/3rds of the way through Gone With the Wind (the book, not the movie), and I'm enjoying it, though her complete and utter disregard/dislike for her kid is unusual... it almost feels like Margaret Mitchell kept forgetting she'd written him in, so has to mention him every now and again to remind us and herself that she hasn't killed him off yet. I might be curious to read the sequel after this, though I'm not sure how I feel about someone else writing a sequel to a classic book like this, even if I'm not sure how it ends just yet (and don't tell me!).

Otherwise, I'm tired of being stuffed up all the time, I want time to pass quickly, I want to do well on my paper (if I ever get around to writing the damn thing), and I want things to get better. I'm demanding.

Also, I want to be rich. I'm po'. :(

I also posted this on Angry Apostrophe, but I wanted to share it here, since I like it and I never know if you guys actually follow my hotlinks. ;)

Sometimes, you find gems in livejournal icons. I've seen this with a few different accounts, so I don't feel bad transcribing it here:

• “Your stupid”? My stupid what?
  
• Your throws of ecstacy send me into throes of amusement.
  
• You can defuse a bomb. But diffusing it might be a bad idea.
  
• Your is not mine. You’re means you are.
  
• Thru is only a word if you’re referring to getting a hamburger in your car.
  
• Per se means of itself. Per say is only how you pronounce it.
  
• Fire is fiery. Burn all misspellings.
  
• A horde is a large group of people, often unruly. To hoard is to gather, and often references dragons.
  
• Et cetera does not abbreviate to ect., ecc., or et. Etc.
  
• E.g. means for example, and i.e. means that is. I.e., always be correct.
  
• You should definitely spell definitely definitely.
  
• If you had a d, you wouldn’t deserve congratulations.
  
• A lot is two words. Allot means to distribute.
  
• Never enter your pin number on an atm machine. You could get the HIV virus.
  
• If you really did have baited breath, you would smell rather fishy.
  
• Rouge is a colour. A rogue isn’t.
  
• I before E except after C, or when sounding like a as in neighbour and weigh. Unless it’s weird.
  

Also, take the Carnal Knowledge Quiz (safe for work). I stunk (52%), but then again, American history isn't exactly my specialty.

Americans terrify me sometimes.

Halfway to Heaven
A Catholic millionaire's dream town draws fire.

A Vision: Ave Maria, whose temporary campus-chapel is seen here, is Monaghan’s most ambitious undertaking

By Susannah Meadows
Newsweek
Feb. 27, 2006 issue - The 5,000-acre tomato field in southwestern Florida sure doesn't look like heaven. Bulldozers scrape the land flat while clusters of Porta Pottis signal an undeniable earthiness. But soon a massive cathedral will rise from this barren spot. Reaching 100 feet in the air behind a 65-foot crucifix, the Oratory will anchor Ave Maria, a whole new town and Roman Catholic university 30 miles east of Naples. Ground was officially broken last week, and the plan is to build 11,000 homes—likely drawing families who already hold the church at the center of their lives.

For Tom Monaghan, the devout Catholic who founded Domino's Pizza and is now bankrolling most of the initial $400 million cost of the project, Ave Maria is the culmination of a lifetime devoted to spreading his own strict interpretation of Catholicism. Though he says nonbelievers are welcome, Monaghan clearly wants the community to embody his conservative values. He controls all the commercial real estate in town (along with his developing partner, Barron Collier Cos.) and is asking pharmacies not to carry contraceptives. If forced to choose between two otherwise comparable drugstores, Barron Collier would favor the one that honored that request, says its president and CEO, Paul Marinelli. Discussing his life as a millionaire Catholic who puts his money where his faith is, Monaghan says: "I believe all of history is just one big battle between good and evil. I don't want to be on the sidelines."

The ACLU of Florida is worried about how he's playing the game. "It is completely naive to think this first attempt [to restrict access to contraception] will be their last," says executive director Howard Simon. Armed with a 1946 Supreme Court opinion that "ownership [of a town] does not always mean absolute dominion," Simon will be watching Ave Maria for any signs of Monaghan's request's becoming a demand. Planned Parenthood is similarly alarmed. So far, Naples Community Hospital, which plans to open a clinic in Ave Maria Town, says it will not prescribe any birth control to students. Will others be able to get the pill? "For the general public, the answer is probably yes, but not definitely yes," says hospital point man Edgardo Tenreiro. The Florida attorney general's office says the issue of limiting access will likely have to be worked out in court. Barron Collier and Monaghan say they're following Florida law.

Raised by nuns in orphanages, Monaghan, 68, has tried to franchise his religious views in the past, creating elementary schools, a small college, Catholic radio stations and, in 2000, a Catholic law school. While many of his initiatives have foundered, the law school, with 88 percent of its most recent class passing the Michigan bar, is off to a strong start. Early signs suggest the new Ave Maria complex, his final and most ambitious project, might also work out. The developers are close to leasing 60 percent of the commercial space (no pharmacists yet), says project manager Blake Gable, and they have received some 7,000 inquiries from people interested in buying homes, which will go for less than the half-million median price in nearby Naples. In an area of strip malls and bad traffic, Ave Maria's communal design—with shops within walking distance to the homes—has civic appeal. "The general buzz is that the university and town are going to be a spark plug for massive development in that area," says Michael Reagen, president of the Naples Chamber of Commerce. Even the pope is interested. When Ave Maria Provost Father Joseph Fessio saw Benedict XVI, the first thing out of the new pontiff's mouth, according to Fessio, was, "How's Ave Maria?" He's not the only one awaiting the answer.

Aside from being busy, stressed, cranky, sleep-deprived and so on, it’s actually been a fairly good week.

I got in some classtime at the gym on Tuesday, when I participated in a class that combines tai chi, yoga and possibly something else. I felt like a ninny at first, moving my arms around in pseudo ‘blocks’ (right, like that would’ve been effective at any attacker other than maybe a sweater), but once it moved into some yoga poses and other more challenging things, it got more interesting. Of course, since I’d done an upper-body workout with my trainer just before, as well as some abs (and then extra abs, after she left), some things towards the end got much more challenging for me. But I also really enjoyed the rest period we did before the final cool-down; something like that always feels a lot more refreshing than even a nap might have.

Tuesday I also picked up some jeans (one of which I have to return to the store with, as they left the theft-deterrent sensor on it), some knitting needles for my next project, some supper for the Smooshy and I, and as I said, the gym. Wednesday was class, whoop de shit (various controversies regarding proposed projects and massive class rebellion, but it blew over – though the prof seemed disappointed. To him, I have to say: Sorry dude, but most of us have lives outside of your class. No one is taking your class exclusively, and unlike your pet, not all of us are looking to suck up to you by engaging in these new class projects that weren’t on the syllabus and would require several hours of outside research… especially when you already have a difficult time with time management). Since we got out even later than usual (again with the time management), it was fairly late (10:30?) when I got home. And I’m probably one of the people who lives closest to campus, too. Urgh.

Yesterday the Smooshy and I had our post-poned Valentine’s Day celebrations. They looked like they might not happen, since we were both crabby with one another (apparently I have a knack for being grumpy at the exact wrong moment… there are some serious challenges to dating someone more sensitive to you that were not covered in the handbook), but we managed to pull it off. We ordered in a buttload of Chinese food, I had picked up some white wine and some cinnamon buns (classy all the way, I am!), and we watched the movie I’d rented last week, “The Wild Parrots of Telegraph Hill.” It’s a documentary about a guy who took an interest in the wild parrots that he noticed in and around his neighbourhood, and took the time to get to know them and look after them. I’d seen a trailer for it when Ben and I saw March of the Penguins, and I wanted to watch it.

I found some parts of the movie especially easy to relate to, like when he has to give up one bird in particular whom he has bonded with, or when he relates the story of the last days of another bird he looked after. There are also the birds that simply stop returning, and whose fate is always somewhat unknown; these are all things I’ve had to deal with in my short lifetime of pet ownership. I greatly admire his ability to do the right thing – to find a good home for Mingus, to ask the city to leave the birds be, and to let the wild birds stay wild. He really seemed to understand and respect the spirit of what the birds represented, as well as the birds themselves – if that makes any sense whatsoever and doesn’t sound too airy-fairy to the rest of you.

The Smooshy thinks I’m crazy, ‘cause movies about animals are 100% more likely to make me cry than movies about people. He’s not the first person to think that I care more about animals than I do people; The Ex- thought the same thing. Sometimes I get the impression that people who say things like, ‘A movie about orphans in [name developing country of choice] is much more likely to make *me* cry’ feel that they are better than me, or more sympathetic, or more humanitarian, or something. It makes me kind of defensive, but I don’t usually bother to argue the point much.

The thing is, I’m a fairly emotional person, but I tend to hide it more than some. I feel vulnerable when I’m emotional, and I don’t like to show that side to others. When I was crying during Wild Parrots (especially during the last 20-30 minutes, which the IMDB board indicates is a common occurrence), I was trying to hide it as long as I could. Smooshy knew, and eventually it was undeniable, but it’s a side of myself that I don’t like to show many people. Hell, probably about 1% of my friends have seen me cry at any given time.

But, that doesn’t mean that I don’t get choked up about things. Hell, especially when I’m PMSy (which I think was another culprit last night), I get choked up about the dumbest things. I can remember once getting worked up over the last episode of Saved by the Bell, ‘cause I was PMSy. I’m a loser, I know it.

When it comes to people, I think expressions of joy or despair are usually the two that get me. The people who jumped from the top of the World Trade Center rather than get crushed by rubble, or the people who had to choose which child to let go of during the tsunami; those are horrific situations in which to be placed, and I hope to never have to make those choices, or be so far from any sign of hope as to make choices like those.

I feel that animals are less able to look out for themselves in face of human cruelty than other humans. There is no explanation for some of the harm that we inflict upon on another, but a grown man punching another grown man can defend himself. A grown man punching a dog or a cat… people torment one another, and in extreme situations, the tormented brings a gun to work and kills. But a person who torments an animal, sometimes there is no recourse for that animal, and it will simply never trust anyone else again – or not without a lot of care and attention. Certainly sometimes that animal will turn and snap, but others will simply give up. And yes, this is seen in people, too.

I know I’m not making an especially strong argument, but it’s very difficult to explain why you feel a certain way about something that happens to be very close to your heart. Without bringing religion into it, try explaining why you’re opposed to murder, or abortion, or gay rights. “It’s just wrong” doesn’t really cover it very well, but it’s hard to come up with other arguments that are very strong – they’re just part of your moral or ethical code (one is changeable, and I think it’s values, but I can’t remember). According to my mom, being an animal lover is in my blood, and that’s just how it’s always been. I can’t explain why movies about animals are a sure-fire way to make me cry, whereas I can be horrified or upset by a movie that features poor treatment of people and stay more composed, but that’s how it is for me. Maybe it’s like humour; poo and fart jokes don’t make me laugh, but the book “I wanna go home!” by Gordon Korman still makes me laugh out loud, two-dozen plus readings later. Go figure.

I’m currently taking a course that will remain unnamed as part of my requirements for my masters degree. This course is not really something that interests me, but it happened to fit into my schedule (i.e., it was in English and it was in the evening, and it was the only one that fit both requirements). I have many complaints about its time of ‘day’ (7 – 10 p.m.), and the way it’s run and so on, but those are not really part of my current complaint.

As part of my readings for tonight’s course (oh yeah, I’m on time with this stuff; it doesn’t help that the professor’s idea of posting things ‘on time’ means making them available on Monday for a Wednesday night class… and there’s a crapload of crap to read, but that’s not my complaint right now), we’re reading a speech that the professor gave last week to some gathering of foreign bigwigs in Turkey. Now, I used to work on speeches for a fairly large Ministry in my last federal public service job. I know that people who give speeches like to breathe, and long sentences tend to lose your audience anyways. As such, I felt no compunction at editing speeches (be they originals or those incorporating changes from the ten thousand people who had to review these things before they were approved) to contain short sentences. Granted, I write long, winding, confusing sentences full of interjections and sidenotes, but that’s only in text. I have written and delivered a number of speeches as part of past course work, and I like to think I’m actually fairly good at it (I've been told I have a natural style of delivery, and I'm now old enough and apathetic enough that I mostly enjoy public speaking, and don't have to prepare too thoroughly ahead of time).

My professor wrote his own speech, so he only has himself to blame for gems like this one: “Third: We are in what Manuel Castells has called an Informational Age running on every smaller, cheaper and faster circuitry that has facilitated overlapping and cross-cutting policy networks peppered with non-governmental actors running the gamut from large NGOs such as The International Federation of the Red Cross and Crescent Societies to someone with a computer who can self-publish his or her views for a global audience.”

Commas, periods, colons, semi-colons, ellipses… these are all natural pause points in (spoken) text, and allow the speaker to take a breath. I shared that paragraph exactly as it is written on what he has provided us; you can see there exists precisely one colon, one comma, and one period. I’m only on the third page of his speech, and so far this is the worst offender, but it’s hardly the only one.

Today my coworker handed me a candy cane and wished me a happy series of holidays, before he got to Valentine's Day.

Happy St. Valentine's Day, folks, be you with someone or single. There are plenty of advantages to either state, and I'm sure longterm readers of this site have heard me enumerate on them all.

In other news, I keep thinking of things I want to write, be they anecdotes or pieces of prose, and they go nowhere. Hopefully, after I manage to cull from my life all of my time-sucking hobbies and other tedious things (work, school, the usual), I'll have the chance to write them up here.

I went through my LJ page the other day and figured out how to filter my friends communities away from the other high-frequency communities like the kittypix or the ohnotheydidnt communities. Then I sort of caught up on peoples' lives and felt slightly more in touch.

I've also managed to bork my computer somewhat, I suspect, so tonight may involve me lighting scented candles, pouring a glass of wine, slipping into a nice teddy and trying to romance the shit out of my computer. And no, I don't have an USB-capable vibrating attachments for me to get anything out of this arrangement.

When did I turn into such a geek?

P.S. The Smooshy and I finished Baldur's Gate: Dark Alliance II last night. Anyone know when the sequel is coming out?

Such a geek. It's almost hopeless. Except that I still look good in a teddy. ;)

I have a mild addiction to Roger Ebert's site. I like to read his reviews on the new releases, partly because it's nice to get another's opinion (though I'll still see something I really want to see, even if he pans it), and partly because he's entertaining in his columns (like when his review for Adam Sandler's "The Longest Yard" basically consisted of him writing about how he wished he could take back the review he'd given it).

Point in fact, his review for Curious George. The following amused me:

"I have no idea what teenagers think, but I know what 4-year-olds think, because I was one, an expert one, and I believe that up to a certain age all children enjoy more or less the same things: Bright colors, vivid drawings, encouraging music, a plot that is exciting but not too scary, and a character they can identify with. This character should have an older friend who guides him through neat adventures and keeps things from getting too scary. If that doesn't describe what you liked when you were 3 or 4, then I blame your parents, Mr. and Mrs. Chainsaw."

Here we go, I'm going to invite some controversy with this one (sourced from IMDB.com:

Jackson To Release Pope Prayers?
Pop superstar Michael Jackson has been asked by the Roman Catholic Church to set the prayers of the late Pope John Paul II to music. The 47-year-old singer was chosen to write music for the 24 prayers and chants, after Vatican officials decided his global celebrity would best promote their holy message. Father Giuseppe Moscati says, "We have the rights for the 24 prayers written by Pope John Paul. We had hoped the fact that we have been in contact with Michael Jackson would remain a secret. But sadly it has leaked out ahead of time. We are in discussions and trying to sort it out." The priest, who is head of the Millennium Music Society, insisted Jackson's hard-won battle against child molestation charges did not discount him as a candidate. He adds, "He was cleared and found not guilty by a jury. Michael Jackson is very interested in this project - we shall see what happens."

Now, am I the only one who thinks that having Michael Jackson put Pope prayers to music kinda adds the wrong kind of weight to all of the allegations of child molestation on the part of the churches?

Why do reporters think that me saying, "I don't really know much about this issue; I'll have to look into it and get back to you." means that they can continue asking me questions about it? Especially when those questions lead to, "I don't really know much about this issue; I'll have to look into it and get back to you" being repeated.

"So-and-so from this department told me that it's a very political issue. Why is that?"

"I don't really know much about this issue. I'll have to look into it and get back to you."

Mind you, this same reporter contacted the Deputy Minister's office to try to get answers to her questions; she figured that since s/he should be the one making those decisions, that she should ask his/her office directly.

*blink* *blink* Umm... most organizations of any size have a media relations department. They're much better equipped to a) answer your questions; b) find you information; c) line up interviews for you. All organizations with a media relations department know better than to answer any questions directly from the reporter; you always go through your media relations people first.

It's bureaucracy, people. It's not new, and while it's a pain in the ass, it's there for a reason. In the end, it's often faster to go through the proper channels.

Often. Not always.

P.S. I want to be at home.

I posted this at The Angry Apostrophe, in full.

Also, sometime this week (the 23rd, I think), marks way too many years that I've been doing this whole 'blogging thing'. I'm not sure if it's sad or not, but... it's weird to read past entries and see how things were for me x number of years ago, or how my 'voice' has changed as I've evolved and grown *old*.

Secondly, next month, on Valentine's Day, will mark two years that I've had Thena in my life. She actually turned 2 around the beginning of the year, and Venus will be 2 sometime this summer, according to my math. My kitties are old and annoying, especially when Venus chews on my fingers. I keep threatening to get another kitty to keep her company, but the Smooshy doesn't seem to care for that thought.

In addition, the Smooshy and I have officially started our apartment hunt. The apartment that we saw last night (two, actually, in the same dwelling) was advertised as being at a major intersection downtown, but was actually the opposite end of one of those major streets (about 5 blocks away from my last place, which was 4 blocks away from this major intersection). The smaller place was fairly nice, though smaller than my current place; the second apartment had a neat loft area where the second bedroom was, as well as some additional space. Unfortunately, they were asking $1275 for it, which is out of the budget for Smooshy and I, and not raally worth it for that location. No matter; we're still looking. In fact, we have appointments to look at places tomorrow and Saturday, and I've passed along one or two others to him today.

I hope that any place we do find has good neighbours; I'm getting really tired of the inconsiderate louts I keep finding myself living next to. :P

Who knew that, at this illustrious stage in my career, I would have the great fortune of becoming an 'expert' on bed bugs, of all things?

Suffice it to say, I may never travel, sit on a couch, sleep in a bed, or hug another human being as long as I live.