Well, after much complaining and whining about my pathetic hours at the Wholesale Club, I finally got my fat arse off of the couch and went out looking for a full-time job. I finally found one at Subway. OK, so it's not exactly an amazing career opportunity but at least I won't be sitting at home every morning and borrowing money from my parents to pay my Mastercard bill. I start there on July 4th, after I get back from my sister's wedding in Victoria. I wish I didn't have to leave the Wholesale, since it was so easy and convenient. But I just can't make two part-time jobs work!
In other news, I've finally moved back into my own bedroom, the carpet having dried sufficiently. It smelled like sewage in my basement for a while but I think either I've gotten used to it or else it's finally actually been aired out enough.
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
| You Are Homer Simpson |
 You're just an ordinary, all-American working Joe... With a special fondness for pork rinds and donuts. You will be remembered for: your little "isms" and philosophies on life Your life philosophy: "Weaseling out of things is important to learn. It's what separates us from the animals ... except the weasel." |
| Your 2005 Song Is |
 Since You've Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson "But since you've been gone I can breathe for the first time I'm so moving on" In 2005, you moved on. |
| Your Love Life Secrets Are |
 Looking back on your life, you will have a few true loves. You're a little scarred from your past relationships, but who isn't? You expect a lot from your lover - you want the full package. You tend to be very picky. In fights, you seek compromise and back down from conflict. You always try to smooth things out. Getting over a break-up doesn't take long. Easy come, easy go. |
Monday, June 19, 2006
Cashier Awareness Days
OK, so I don't think that there's such a thing, but I wish there was! I guess I will just have to take on the formidable task of educating the public about How to Make a Cashier's Life Infinitely Easier. I know it's a hopeless task, but a girl can always hope! So, here's some simple, common-sense tips on how to make your sojourn into the grocery store a little bit quicker, more efficient, and more pleasant for everyone involved.
1. When you put your groceries on the belt, always, always, ALWAYS use a divider to mark the spot where your groceries end. You'd be amazed how many people expect me to watch them unload their groceries and know exactly which bananas are theirs and which bananas belong to the man ahead of them. Just taking that extra half-second and putting the divider down saves everyone a lot of grief.
2. If you have 24 dahlias in your cart, DON'T unload them ALL onto the belt. They spill dirt everywhere, take a lot of time to unload and reload, and they should stay in your cart! The cashier only needs to see 1 of them.
3. If you want a tub of Number 7 tobacco, please tell me if you want 65%, 85%, 95%, or 100%. Before I walk all the way to the tobacco cage. Believe it or not, your kind of tobacco is not the only kind we sell and I can't read your mind about which kind you want.
4. When I ask you how many bags you want, don't turn away and kind of mumble the number into your shirt. It's noisy in the grocery store, and I can't hear you. Then I have to ask you again, and you get miffed because I didn't hear the first time.
5. Don't tell me how to do my job. If there's twenty people in line and it's obvious that I haven't yet had time to wipe up a spill from the last person's potted plants, don't point at the counter and say "Look, there's dirt there." Yes, I know there's dirt there. Yes, I am going to clean it up. But if you knew what kind of dirty hands had already pawed through your peaches while they were still on the display, you wouldn't be worried about a little clean dirt out of a pot.
OK, so maybe I'm being a little bit anal about this! I just thought that the public needed to become aware of some of the pet peeves of grocery cashiers. After all, we're people too, and I think we deserve a little respect!
1. When you put your groceries on the belt, always, always, ALWAYS use a divider to mark the spot where your groceries end. You'd be amazed how many people expect me to watch them unload their groceries and know exactly which bananas are theirs and which bananas belong to the man ahead of them. Just taking that extra half-second and putting the divider down saves everyone a lot of grief.
2. If you have 24 dahlias in your cart, DON'T unload them ALL onto the belt. They spill dirt everywhere, take a lot of time to unload and reload, and they should stay in your cart! The cashier only needs to see 1 of them.
3. If you want a tub of Number 7 tobacco, please tell me if you want 65%, 85%, 95%, or 100%. Before I walk all the way to the tobacco cage. Believe it or not, your kind of tobacco is not the only kind we sell and I can't read your mind about which kind you want.
4. When I ask you how many bags you want, don't turn away and kind of mumble the number into your shirt. It's noisy in the grocery store, and I can't hear you. Then I have to ask you again, and you get miffed because I didn't hear the first time.
5. Don't tell me how to do my job. If there's twenty people in line and it's obvious that I haven't yet had time to wipe up a spill from the last person's potted plants, don't point at the counter and say "Look, there's dirt there." Yes, I know there's dirt there. Yes, I am going to clean it up. But if you knew what kind of dirty hands had already pawed through your peaches while they were still on the display, you wouldn't be worried about a little clean dirt out of a pot.
OK, so maybe I'm being a little bit anal about this! I just thought that the public needed to become aware of some of the pet peeves of grocery cashiers. After all, we're people too, and I think we deserve a little respect!
Saturday, June 17, 2006
Flooded
Those pictures were taken at 3 am. In my basement. My very wet basement. On Tuesday night we had a nasty thunderstorm in Lethbridge, and the window in my bedroom couldn't withstand the onslaught of water. Luckily, Jen was worried about the books that I keep in that window, and so she came downstairs at about 2:30 am to see if everything was alright. Well, to make a long story short... we ended up spending about an hour and a half mopping water out of my carpet. Then we discovered that the floor in my kitchen was leaking as well. Needless to say, it was an exciting night.
Now my basement smells just a little odd. Musty, dank, dungeon-esque. Lovely. It's still kind of drying out, but some scented candles and open windows have helped.
How about those Oilers? I'm writing this during the commercial break before the third period, game 6 against Carolina in Rexall Place. Go Oilers!!!
p.s. I'm still a Flames fan at heart. Really.
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Fantastic Music I Have Been Enjoying Lately
Fernando Ortega:
The Most Relaxing Classical Album... Ever!
Shrek 2: The Soundtrack
Norah Jones
The Most Relaxing Classical Album... Ever!
Shrek 2: The Soundtrack
Norah Jones
Friday, June 09, 2006
Violet: a sample of some of my writing
I'm always talking about writing, so I thought I'd post the beginning of one of my stories. I wrote this last winter.
Violet Anuree would most likely have gone on to be an excellent professor of English literature. She would have been well-loved by her students, well-liked by her colleagues, and well-rated in peer-reviewed journals. She would have written a great many exceedingly boring articles and spoken at a great many only slightly less boring literary conferences. She would have married a clean-cut gentleman whose intellectual pursuits complemented her own, and they would have raised three exceptional children who excelled in art, music, and sports. She and her professor-type husband would have grown comfortably plump and old together and gradually faded away, visited to the end of their lives by a prolific number of grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
But Violet Anuree never found out what her life would have been like had she pursued this venue of academia. Some days – when the sun was too hot, or a particularly large bug crawled into her purse, or she was just really longing for one or another of the hygienic amenities that were once an ordinary facet of her existence – on days like those, perhaps she fancied that she regretted never becoming a professor and raising a family. But deep down, Violet Anuree knew that what she was meant to be was what she was becoming.
Violet would have never discovered this simple truth had it not been for a series of ordinary and extraordinary events. She was in her dorm room in Edmonton on a very snowy night in December. The name of the university she was attending is not important to our story. Neither are the names of her best friends, or her ex-boyfriends, or even that professor whom she liked so much and longed to emulate. I am only telling you that she was in university in Edmonton, because you need to know where she was when her life changed.
I will, however, tell you about Maxine Topher. Maxine gets a spot in the story, because although she is dead now, she played a very important role in Violet's story in the moments before Maxine's untimely death. Maxine was one of those people who make the world just a little bit more interesting. Her friends would have described her as a unique, although somewhat abrasive, individual. Violet would have described her as loud. Violet lived below Maxine, and she wondered how such a skinny girl could make such heavy thudding noises at such regular intervals that one could only suppose that a heavy-weight champion was having a casual wrestling practice on the floor. Furthermore, it seemed as if Maxine woke up when Violet went to bed. Violet was always calling upstairs to crabbily tell Maxine that the loud noises had to stop. Violet prided herself on not being scared to be blunt.
However, Maxine had other interests besides dropping large objects on her floor. Maxine also enjoyed playing with fire. Her room was filled with many flammable objects that were meant to be lit, and many other objects that weren't. She had stacks of matchbooks and every kind of candle imaginable. On this particular evening, Maxine was enjoying a rather dirty romance novel while she sat beside a long row of lit, scented tealights and absently sipped a martini.
Downstairs, Violet was writing a paper that she really didn't want to write, and thinking about Christmas holidays, and how she wished she was anywhere but here at school. She was almost ready to start another game of solitaire when her phone rang.
Violet answered it, spoke for a few minutes, and then pulled her coat on over her pyjamas and went outside. Her boyfriend had parked his car in the loading zone by the front door of her dorm. He was just swinging by to drop off her wallet that she had accidentally left in his car the night before. He also wanted to ask her if he could borrow her Sociology of the Family notes from yesterday's class, which he had skipped. Violet had reluctantly acquiesced, and she had a photocopied stack of notes for him. She had a faint idea that he was using her; however, he was very good-looking and Violet liked keeping him around.
On this particular evening, Violet's boyfriend was in a very impatient mood. He was late for a movie that he had promised to meet a friend at, and although stopping to see Violet was mutually beneficial, he couldn't resist honking his horn rather loudly as she stepped outside.
Upstairs, Maxine, who was deeply engrossed in the throes of a particularly romantic love scene in her novel, started at the sound of the horn. Her elbow jerked slightly...
...tipping over her martini glass...
...which spilled onto the tealights...
...causing the entire table to erupt into flames!
Maxine stared at the scene, transfixed in horror. The flames were licking at the bottom of the window, ravenously devouring the ancient drapes. The angry tongues of fire climbed quickly...now they were at the ceiling...now the ancient tinder of the roof and walls had caught fire and were beginning to crackle dangerously. For someone who normally reveled in fire, Maxine was paralyzed with fear. She ran into the room across from hers, shouting intelligent things like “Oh my God! Fire! Fire!” Then, she lifted the window and jumped out.
Maxine's shouts had brought the rest of the girls into the hall. Then, the fire alarm finally went off, screeching shrilly at the smoke that was now coming from Maxine's room. Chaos, panic, and general pandemonium ensued.
Half an hour later, 150 girls were standing outside the dorm, watching all of their earthly possessions perish in the now out-of-control blaze. The asbestos and dry wood of the dormitory had erupted in flames almost instantly, and by now the entire building was consumed. There would be no salvage. The firefighters had hardly even bothered to try to douse the raging inferno. Schindler Hall was, in the words of one of the firemen, “a bonfire waiting to happen.”
Violet, watching in a kind of a dreamlike trance, didn't feel any emotion. Her first thought was for her new hoodie, trapped in her room and by now surely destroyed. She'd probably miss her computer... her music collection... and there was a slice of pecan pie in her fridge that she'd been looking forward to eating... but this hadn't really been her home.
The question burning (excuse my pun) on Violet's brain was actually whether or not she would have to complete that paper she had been working on before the fire had so rudely interrupted her.
Sunday, June 04, 2006
These Sunny Days
Oh goodness. Where to begin? So much has happened, and yet life is still the same. I eat, sleep, read, go to work... those are the basics of my existence. I don't like to think about the past, and I'm scared of the future. So I just live in the moment.
I want more out of my life. Yet I'm frightened to try to make it happen.
I want to write something real, something that's from my heart and yet not just a rehashing of the last couple years of my life. I want to write a novel that will transport me from my bland, mundane existence. The problem is, the only thing that I actually do write is this darn blog. And cheques to pay my rent.
Ick.
I'm going to pop out to the library now, just to make my Sunday afternoon complete. I want a mystery novel, a fantasy novel, a good cookbook, a couple good movies, and an interesting CD.
I want more out of my life. Yet I'm frightened to try to make it happen.
I want to write something real, something that's from my heart and yet not just a rehashing of the last couple years of my life. I want to write a novel that will transport me from my bland, mundane existence. The problem is, the only thing that I actually do write is this darn blog. And cheques to pay my rent.
Ick.
I'm going to pop out to the library now, just to make my Sunday afternoon complete. I want a mystery novel, a fantasy novel, a good cookbook, a couple good movies, and an interesting CD.
Monday, May 22, 2006
DEAD
The ants are dead!!! I came home from work on Sunday evening to discover that Liana, bless her heart, had scattered pink powdery ant poison all around the sides of the house. The ant traffic was noticeably diminished. By today, the ants were mostly gone. I only saw one ant inside my house today. He was a big sucker, crawling industriously across my kitchen table. When I squished him, his guts were a red and gooey rather than being the normal blackish color. I think he had been gorging himself on the pink poison and was about to die.
That last paragraph was a little bit gruesome. I apologize.
Oh joy, I can finally sleep at night without worrying about six-legged insects getting into my bedclothes.
That last paragraph was a little bit gruesome. I apologize.
Oh joy, I can finally sleep at night without worrying about six-legged insects getting into my bedclothes.
Saturday, May 20, 2006
Icky Creepy Crawly Things
Today I cleaned house. I killed one spider, one nasty worm, one weird beetle thingy, and about 25 ants. I do realize that I live in a basement and that bugs happen... but oh lord, I hate them! I don't have a fly swatter and so I dispatched most of the ants with my fist. Squishing them with my fingers is too gross to do, so I try to deceive myself into thinking that I'm not touching them by just using the bottom edge of my hand. The spider I killed with a dustpan, the beetle thingy I killed with a shoe, and the worm was already dead when I discovered him while I was sweeping my kitchen floor.
Now, it may sound like I need to clean house more often. But the sad truth is that my house is actually pretty clean all the time. Those darn bugs just get in! I am going to buy crates of ant poison and line them up all around the door and in strategic spots in my rooms. Then I will sit and grin fiendishly while those nasty little ants gorge themselves on sugar and then keel over dead. Mwah-ha-ha! This is my evil plan for world domination.
In other news, I think I would like to write a novel this summer. Haha, as if that will ever happen. Over the past two years I've started several sketchy stories that never even made it to page two. Then there was the story about Violet, which died a sudden yet subtle death once I realized that I actually had no idea where the plot was going. It was mostly cathartic writing anyway, since I was making Violet do all the things that I wished I could do in real life yet couldn't - like eating three brownies in one sitting and then taking a trip with a strange man to Peru. Yet I think that story could have some promise, if only I could think of the plot. If all else fails, I'll keep the first paragraph. I really liked the first paragraph.
The reason I have this sudden urge to write a story is probably because lately I've been rereading some of the books I used to love, and feeling that urge to create something that others will love. That is my dream. When I forget why the heck I ever decided to go to university in the first place, I remind myself of my love of writing, and hope that someday I will be able to write masterfully intricate stories of danger and fantasy and heroes and romance... and... oh geez, who I am I kidding? That's the way my thoughts go. But... you know, with enough practice... it could happen, right? Ah, who knows where my life will go. First I need to find a job that will actually keep food on the table.
Now, it may sound like I need to clean house more often. But the sad truth is that my house is actually pretty clean all the time. Those darn bugs just get in! I am going to buy crates of ant poison and line them up all around the door and in strategic spots in my rooms. Then I will sit and grin fiendishly while those nasty little ants gorge themselves on sugar and then keel over dead. Mwah-ha-ha! This is my evil plan for world domination.
In other news, I think I would like to write a novel this summer. Haha, as if that will ever happen. Over the past two years I've started several sketchy stories that never even made it to page two. Then there was the story about Violet, which died a sudden yet subtle death once I realized that I actually had no idea where the plot was going. It was mostly cathartic writing anyway, since I was making Violet do all the things that I wished I could do in real life yet couldn't - like eating three brownies in one sitting and then taking a trip with a strange man to Peru. Yet I think that story could have some promise, if only I could think of the plot. If all else fails, I'll keep the first paragraph. I really liked the first paragraph.
The reason I have this sudden urge to write a story is probably because lately I've been rereading some of the books I used to love, and feeling that urge to create something that others will love. That is my dream. When I forget why the heck I ever decided to go to university in the first place, I remind myself of my love of writing, and hope that someday I will be able to write masterfully intricate stories of danger and fantasy and heroes and romance... and... oh geez, who I am I kidding? That's the way my thoughts go. But... you know, with enough practice... it could happen, right? Ah, who knows where my life will go. First I need to find a job that will actually keep food on the table.
Tuesday, May 16, 2006
Crazy
I know I haven't done a real update in a while... and it's not like I haven't had time. Actually, I've had a lot of time on my hands. First I couldn't find a job... and then I got a part-time one and had to keep looking for another one. But I'm finally employed at two places - the Wholesale Club, which is pretty boring - and at Bluenotes, which I haven't started yet but I hope will be a little bit more interesting. Other than that... hmm, I've just been hanging out, getting sunburned, watching movies, meeting new people, and getting to know my housemates better.
It's definitely fun to be in Lethbridge, and to have my own place. But sometimes it gets pretty lonely in a new city where you don't know anyone. And it's weird to suddenly have a different life after you've been living somewhere else for two years. Lethbridge is gorgeous in the spring, but it's taking some adjusting to make it feel... normal. It doesn't feel like home yet. I hope that after I've been here for two years, it'll feel like my city. I'll know where to shop, where to eat, where all the best deals are and the best running trails and which places you definitely shouldn't walk at night. I can't wait til that happens.
I've been listening to this lately. It's really good music... definitely a recommend.
It's definitely fun to be in Lethbridge, and to have my own place. But sometimes it gets pretty lonely in a new city where you don't know anyone. And it's weird to suddenly have a different life after you've been living somewhere else for two years. Lethbridge is gorgeous in the spring, but it's taking some adjusting to make it feel... normal. It doesn't feel like home yet. I hope that after I've been here for two years, it'll feel like my city. I'll know where to shop, where to eat, where all the best deals are and the best running trails and which places you definitely shouldn't walk at night. I can't wait til that happens.
I've been listening to this lately. It's really good music... definitely a recommend.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY
Well this post is for one person, my favorite person: my mommy.
My mommy:
-Is always ready to give me a hug:
-She lets me call her anytime I need to talk (which is all the time):
-She kills spiders for me:
But all these wonderful things aren't really why I love my mommy. She's just the best: she's looked after me for almost 20 years and put up with me when I'm terribly grouchy and always forgave me for being a brat. Well, eventually, anyway. (I think you did, right mom?) She looked after six kids and taught us to eat healthy stuff and planted a garden every single year and let us get dirty. She's feisty and doesn't let anyone push her around and knows her own mind but she's still kind and gracious to everyone. Even when I think she should tell them all to just shove it you-know-where.
I'm not a Hallmark card (fooled you all, didn't I?) so I'll stop there, but I'm sure you get the picture. I think my mom is pretty much just fabulous. So Mom, happy Mother's Day! I LOVE YOU!!!!!
My mommy:
-Is always ready to give me a hug:
-She lets me call her anytime I need to talk (which is all the time):
-She kills spiders for me:
But all these wonderful things aren't really why I love my mommy. She's just the best: she's looked after me for almost 20 years and put up with me when I'm terribly grouchy and always forgave me for being a brat. Well, eventually, anyway. (I think you did, right mom?) She looked after six kids and taught us to eat healthy stuff and planted a garden every single year and let us get dirty. She's feisty and doesn't let anyone push her around and knows her own mind but she's still kind and gracious to everyone. Even when I think she should tell them all to just shove it you-know-where.
I'm not a Hallmark card (fooled you all, didn't I?) so I'll stop there, but I'm sure you get the picture. I think my mom is pretty much just fabulous. So Mom, happy Mother's Day! I LOVE YOU!!!!!
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
Take Your Irresistability IQ
I guess this describes me :) :) :) ... I like fashion, but I like sweat pants too :)
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
help!!!
I'm having a lot of trouble getting a job. I think that I need to go out and hand out more resumes. But I don't know where I should apply at. Any suggestions?
Thursday, April 27, 2006
OK, so what now???
As of this moment, I have been living in Lethbridge for approximately 5 days and 4 hours. It feels like much, much longer. I have unpacked everything, used "my" new oven to my heart's content, eaten more than is good for me, scouted out some running paths by the graveyard and in the coulees, met a dizzying array of Jen and Liana's (my landlords) friends, handed out resumes all over town, and tried the bus system. Yet despite all these activities, I still feel bored. I still watch too much daytime television. I still feel unproductive and antsy. Would someone, somewhere, from any minimum wage retail job just give me a call for an interview? Forget trying to actually make money. I just want the reassuring beep beep beep of my alarm clock going off at an ungodly hour, telling me that I am gainfully employed and will be able to pay my rent and buy groceries. I am sure that soon I will be retracting that wish for the annoying sound of my alarm clock every morning, but right now I feel like my life is on hold and I'd just like to get this show on the road.
Maybe all this waiting time is for a reason. Maybe some Higher Power is telling me that I just need to learn to wait, to slow down, to relax, to trust. Maybe. Or maybe that Higher Power is telling me that I should have taken greater care with my resume. Or it could be that I am supposed to be learning a lesson in perseverance. Or frugality. Or maybe how if I hadn't bought that iPod in February I would have a nice little sum in my bank account right now.
I love how when it's almost 1 o'clock am, all the negative thoughts swarm my brain like drones around a queen bee.
Did I just use that metaphor? Good grief. I was just watching Jerry Seinfeld; maybe that's why.
This feels like such an odd time in my life. I feel so young and yet so old. Part of me knows that I'm 19; no one expects me to have it all together, to make loads of money and have perfect hair. Yet another part of me feels way older than 19; like I should know what I'm doing by now and shouldn't be scared by the thought of job interviews or learning how to work a lottery machine at Shopper's Drug Mart or trying to pick my courses for next year. But having spent the last two years of my life in a climate-controlled bubble, I don't really know what to do in the real world anymore. I don't know what's me and what's just a product of Taylor. I don't know what I want. I have no opinions. I laugh when other people laugh; I stare at people's shoes to make sure that what I'm wearing on my feet is at least passable. I know part of that will never change, but I also know that there's a part of me that really wants to break free and become itself in a way that never could have happened at Taylor. And that might take a long time, and it might take some work, but I want to try. Cause I really want to know who I am. And maybe that's the point of all this waiting - to find out what I want out of life and who "me" really is.
Oh geez. So philosophical. I should really go to bed now before I spill my guts all over this page, cause that would be gross and nobody wants to see it. I'm sure. Yukky.
So here's to tomorrow and sleeping in and doing nothing. Cause doing nothing is the only thing I can do at this point. Who knows? Maybe I'll even get called in for a job interview. I'm crossing my fingers...
Maybe all this waiting time is for a reason. Maybe some Higher Power is telling me that I just need to learn to wait, to slow down, to relax, to trust. Maybe. Or maybe that Higher Power is telling me that I should have taken greater care with my resume. Or it could be that I am supposed to be learning a lesson in perseverance. Or frugality. Or maybe how if I hadn't bought that iPod in February I would have a nice little sum in my bank account right now.
I love how when it's almost 1 o'clock am, all the negative thoughts swarm my brain like drones around a queen bee.
Did I just use that metaphor? Good grief. I was just watching Jerry Seinfeld; maybe that's why.
This feels like such an odd time in my life. I feel so young and yet so old. Part of me knows that I'm 19; no one expects me to have it all together, to make loads of money and have perfect hair. Yet another part of me feels way older than 19; like I should know what I'm doing by now and shouldn't be scared by the thought of job interviews or learning how to work a lottery machine at Shopper's Drug Mart or trying to pick my courses for next year. But having spent the last two years of my life in a climate-controlled bubble, I don't really know what to do in the real world anymore. I don't know what's me and what's just a product of Taylor. I don't know what I want. I have no opinions. I laugh when other people laugh; I stare at people's shoes to make sure that what I'm wearing on my feet is at least passable. I know part of that will never change, but I also know that there's a part of me that really wants to break free and become itself in a way that never could have happened at Taylor. And that might take a long time, and it might take some work, but I want to try. Cause I really want to know who I am. And maybe that's the point of all this waiting - to find out what I want out of life and who "me" really is.
Oh geez. So philosophical. I should really go to bed now before I spill my guts all over this page, cause that would be gross and nobody wants to see it. I'm sure. Yukky.
So here's to tomorrow and sleeping in and doing nothing. Cause doing nothing is the only thing I can do at this point. Who knows? Maybe I'll even get called in for a job interview. I'm crossing my fingers...
Friday, April 21, 2006
My Last Day (ever) at Taylor
It has been a stressful week. A 16-page take-home final, my last day at work, packing everything, buying a dress for my sister's wedding, and a nasty cold on top of everything else has taken up all my time. And now here I sit, with the contents of my room in a haphazard pile of boxes in the middle of my floor. The shelves all need washing, and I have to move all the furniture back to where it was, and then vacuum. I guess I'll wait til tomorrow to do all of that.
It seems crazy to think that tomorrow night at this time I will probably be sinking to the floor exhausted... in my own little basement suite! I can't wait. I guess partly I'm really scared and nervous to be completely on my own in a city that I don't know that well - but on the other hand, there are so many exciting possibilities!
I will miss all the girls on my floor in Schindler so much! I've gotten really close to Randa, and it's crazy to think that I won't be able to have any more late-night talks with her in these rooms - I won't be able to just walk across the hall and say good morning - I won't be able to borrow her printer paper or ask her how my outfit looks. I will miss her so much! I'd forgotten what it's like to have a best friend.
Well, the packing is calling. Goodbye, sophomore year. Goodbye, Schindler. May all the traumatic, harrowing experiences be erased from my memory so that I remember these four walls not as a prison, but as a palace. (Schindler? A palace? Bwah ha ha!) But nonetheless - it's the end of my life in dorms, and it's bittersweet. Time to move one? Yes. But also a time to look back, and remember the good times.
Oh dear. I better not wax philosophical again. It reveals my melodramatic streak!
It seems crazy to think that tomorrow night at this time I will probably be sinking to the floor exhausted... in my own little basement suite! I can't wait. I guess partly I'm really scared and nervous to be completely on my own in a city that I don't know that well - but on the other hand, there are so many exciting possibilities!
I will miss all the girls on my floor in Schindler so much! I've gotten really close to Randa, and it's crazy to think that I won't be able to have any more late-night talks with her in these rooms - I won't be able to just walk across the hall and say good morning - I won't be able to borrow her printer paper or ask her how my outfit looks. I will miss her so much! I'd forgotten what it's like to have a best friend.
Well, the packing is calling. Goodbye, sophomore year. Goodbye, Schindler. May all the traumatic, harrowing experiences be erased from my memory so that I remember these four walls not as a prison, but as a palace. (Schindler? A palace? Bwah ha ha!) But nonetheless - it's the end of my life in dorms, and it's bittersweet. Time to move one? Yes. But also a time to look back, and remember the good times.
Oh dear. I better not wax philosophical again. It reveals my melodramatic streak!
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Gestalt, schmalt
Studying for a counseling psychology test (from 8:30 am til 2:00 pm, 23 pages of handwritten notes!!!) has its drawbacks.
For one thing, after the test, the terms "reality- cognitive- behavioural- Gestalt- existential- psychosocial- psychodynamic- family- structural- strategic- person-centered" all kind of mush together in my mind and severely hinder rational thinking. I feel like a stewpot of various theories of counseling. If you say anything to me at this point - however trivial or benign - I might just label you a neurotic individual who never completed the autonomy vs. shame and doubt phase of Erikson's psychosocial learning.
Another problem with cramming for a counseling exam is the fact that I've started analyzing myself. I'm afraid that I'm not a very self-actualized individual. You see, according to the human-centered approach to counseling, each one of us humans is like a little acorn with the potential to grow into a great big oak tree. That, my friend, is self-actualization. I think I'm pretty far behind. On Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs I've pretty much only mastered survival - food and shelter.
Not that you care about any of this. You'd think I was a psychology major, not a disillusioned would-be novelist who can't even find the motivation to start on my take-home Ren Lit final, due Thursday morning at 11:00. 12-20 brutal pages. I hate my life.
Goodbye cruel world. I'm going to write until I'm finished. Then I might crawl out of my hole in the ground (aka my stinky nasty smelly room) and face the light.
For one thing, after the test, the terms "reality- cognitive- behavioural- Gestalt- existential- psychosocial- psychodynamic- family- structural- strategic- person-centered" all kind of mush together in my mind and severely hinder rational thinking. I feel like a stewpot of various theories of counseling. If you say anything to me at this point - however trivial or benign - I might just label you a neurotic individual who never completed the autonomy vs. shame and doubt phase of Erikson's psychosocial learning.
Another problem with cramming for a counseling exam is the fact that I've started analyzing myself. I'm afraid that I'm not a very self-actualized individual. You see, according to the human-centered approach to counseling, each one of us humans is like a little acorn with the potential to grow into a great big oak tree. That, my friend, is self-actualization. I think I'm pretty far behind. On Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs I've pretty much only mastered survival - food and shelter.
Not that you care about any of this. You'd think I was a psychology major, not a disillusioned would-be novelist who can't even find the motivation to start on my take-home Ren Lit final, due Thursday morning at 11:00. 12-20 brutal pages. I hate my life.
Goodbye cruel world. I'm going to write until I'm finished. Then I might crawl out of my hole in the ground (aka my stinky nasty smelly room) and face the light.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
My New Shoes
Oh I know I already posted once. But I forgot about these! My first ebay purchase ever! Aren't they pretty?
Grrrr.....
I had typed out a really long post and then I pushed a random key and Blogger deleted it! I am so sad. I guess you guys don't get to read my ramblings after all. In the interests of time, I guess I will just make a list:
1. I had a lovely easter Sunday. Went to dinner at Randa's grandparents - she was gone so they adopted me. Then I had breakfast for supper - a bowl of cereal, a bagel, and yogourt - oh I know you guys don't care what I ate for supper, but it makes me happy to think about food, so humor me!
2. I get to move into my new place in 5 DAYS!!! I am really excited. Oh to have my own kitchen... my own counters... that reminds me, I have to go wash my dishes.
3. I've started reading the Circle Trilogy by Ted Dekker again. Such a good series! I was just very bored... since the library was closed this weekend (how dare they?!) ... so I grabbed a random book off my shelf and now I'm totally engrossed. I forget how they end. Last time I read them... well let's just say that I was an emotional basket case and I wasn't really concentrating. So this is exciting!
4. I'm leaving. Goodbye. The dishes are calling. Oh, and exams. Yuck. I hate exams. Who invented such nasty things? Why can't life be fun? ("I beg your pardon; I never promised you a rose garden" *cheesy lyric of the day).
Goodbye!!!
1. I had a lovely easter Sunday. Went to dinner at Randa's grandparents - she was gone so they adopted me. Then I had breakfast for supper - a bowl of cereal, a bagel, and yogourt - oh I know you guys don't care what I ate for supper, but it makes me happy to think about food, so humor me!
2. I get to move into my new place in 5 DAYS!!! I am really excited. Oh to have my own kitchen... my own counters... that reminds me, I have to go wash my dishes.
3. I've started reading the Circle Trilogy by Ted Dekker again. Such a good series! I was just very bored... since the library was closed this weekend (how dare they?!) ... so I grabbed a random book off my shelf and now I'm totally engrossed. I forget how they end. Last time I read them... well let's just say that I was an emotional basket case and I wasn't really concentrating. So this is exciting!
4. I'm leaving. Goodbye. The dishes are calling. Oh, and exams. Yuck. I hate exams. Who invented such nasty things? Why can't life be fun? ("I beg your pardon; I never promised you a rose garden" *cheesy lyric of the day).
Goodbye!!!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)