A Student's Reality

Rebecca is doing this right now. (Studying, that is. Not being a haggard looking male.)

She wishes she were doing this instead.

Winter, how thou dost tempt me.

Graffitti

Read on the inside door of a bathroom stall at Simon Fraser University today:

Blue pen: Can you please refrain from leaving your piss all over the seat. It is disgusting.

Black pen: Try squatting you lazy bitch!

Blue pen: Dude, you are in Canada. We have seats for a reason otherwise there wouldn't be any. It's not lazy, it's custom.

Red pen: Wipe your fucking "custom" off when you're done celebrating your noble heritage then. In Canada we don't like sitting in piss.

BFFs

Here is John. He's really nice. And smart.

Bet'cha don't like him as much as I do, though.

Green Tea Will Not Deceive You

I made sushi last Thursday and it was pretty unpalatable. It was, however, less unpalatable than the miso soup that John made from a carton. Beware of foods that look easy to make. They are sneaky devils.

The green tea was exquisite.

Muchacho Bonito

I was at the library a couple of hours ago innocently typing something up for some class or other when I heard a voice. I looked up, curious, and saw a boy across from me working away busily and singing beautifully in Spanish. I smiled in pleasure at the unconventionality of it. Here we were in the middle of an academic study centre, surrounded by studious students and a beautiful boy was singing a beautiful song and no one was annoyed by it.

I

SFU grows on me more and more.

Farewell

It's definitely autumn. I can tell because my toes are numb underneath my socks, I'm wearing three layers of sweaters and it's raining steadily outside. I can also tell because, even though it feels like I just began school last week, it's already midterm time.

Here are some summer photos given as a last farewell to those carefree days.

Did You Know...?

Did you know that the word stereotype originated with the use of the printing press in the 15th century? Printers would use an image numerous times because an image engraved on wood wasn't very precise and copper images were time consuming and required much skill; so, to be cost effective, they utilized engravings created sometimes decades before.

Do you notice anything about the Native Indian figures in these pictures, taken from the engravings of Theodore de Bry in 1590? European features, Greek musculature - these images do not reflect reality and yet they were used again and again to portray what the indigenous people in the New World looked like to those interested in Europe.

This, and many other interesting facts can be discovered at university.

Labour Day Wedding

A friend told me that, despite not having given it much thought or attention, she's determined to get married on Labour Day weekend. She listed her reasons: as a statutory holiday rounding up summer vacations, her wedding will be well attended; Labour Day symbolizes new beginnings, appropriate for her and her husband's-to-be brand new lives together.

I

I support her in all of her marital decisions, please understand. For me, however, Labour Day is perhaps the last day I would choose to commence a life of bliss with the man I love. It has always indicated an end of freedom for me as a child. In July and August my parents would pack us into the van and drive to wherever we had relatives: southern Alberta, Utah, California, Las Vegas. Simple trips, but fun. Summer holidays were to be looked forward to with anticipation, enjoyed with relish, and remembered with longing. Labour Day symbolized the immutable perseverance of school. Do any teenagers really enjoy it? I was no different. I dreaded the end of the long lazy summer afternoons I used to read under the plum tree in the back yard, a pile of pits accumulating beside me, the end of rollerblading to the lake (in Kelowna) and spending the evening floating in calm cool water as the sun set.

I

Growing up, Labour Day meant everything good was coming to an end and everything awful was about to start up again. As an adult, I feel differently. I look forward to school with a zest I used to reserve for ice cream on a hot day. The change in the seasons excites me. I've lived summer to the fullest and now I'm ready for mittened hands wrapped around steaming teas.

I

I still adamantly refuse to consider marriage on this day though. Old prejudices die hard.

Love is Not

Love is not just a function of the eyes.

Beautiful objects will, of course, inspire

possessive urges - you need not despise

your taste. But when insatiable desire

inflames you for a girl who's out of fashion,

lacking in glamour - plain, in fact - that fire

is genuine. That's the authentic passion.

Beauty, though, any critic can admire.

-Marcus Argentarius

I

I first read those words in a second hand bookstore on Main Street. I was crouching amid volumes and volumes of dusty poetry and this tiny red book, almost hidden by the taller books around it, caught my eye. It's called Love Poems. I immediately bought it. $4.75.

The Favourite Game

By ten o'clock the floor was jammed with sharply dressed couples, and, seen from the upstairs balcony, their swaying and jolting seemed to be nourished directly by the pulsing music, and they muffled it like shock absorbers. The bass and piano and steady brush-drum passed almost silently into their bodies where it was preserved as motion...

I

There was nothing superficial about a thousand people deeply engaged in the courting ritual, the swinging fragments of reflected light sweeping across their immobile eye-closed faces, amber, green, violet. They couldn't help being impressed, fascinated by the channelled violence and the voluntary organization.

I

-Leonard Cohen

I

Don't his words just curl around your senses deliciously?

Vocab Slam

I enjoy reading. Generally, as I read I keep a list of all the words I can't decipher from the context and, when time permits, look them up. The idea is to expand my diminutive vocabulary. Here are a few, by request:

• garrulous - excessively talkative in a rambling, roundabout manner, especially about trivial matters
• recalcitrant - reisting authority or control
• zeitgeist - the spirit of the time; general trend of thought or feeling characteristic of a particular period of time
• incontinent - lacking in moderation or self control; unceasing or unrestrained
• proclivity - natural or habitual inclination or tendency
• occlude - to close, shut, or stop up
• specious - apparently good or right though lacking real merit; superficially pleasing or plausible

Conversations with an Octogenarian

There's a very old, very skinny Chinese man that I see in my neighbourhood occasionally. He must be about 80, with large decaying teeth and a thinning grey comb over, always carrying something in a plastic grocery bag. Every time I see him he stops me in the street and tells me in a direct business like fashion that I'm very very beautiful. I generally thank him for the compliment and try to direct the conversation into more interesting channels. He will not be diverted! He ignores every comment unrelated to my physical appearance.

I

And near the end of our dialogue he always extracts a strange promise from me. "Will you promise me something?" he always asks.

I

"Uh, sure."

I

"Promise me you'll get even more beautiful."

I

I chuckle uncertainly. "I'll try."

I

"No! Don't try." And reminiscent of Yoda he admonishes, "Either do it or don't do it."

I

Either get more beautiful or get more ugly? With these limited options I choose the less offensive of the two. "Ok, I'll do it."

I

Then he smiles his toothy smile and putters off in a self satisfied way, as if he had just accomplished his goal for the day.

Picturesque

I love the way the moon looks rising over those old Victorian houses in East Van.

Canadian Hero

I was in my first year of college when I learned of Leonard Cohen. And by learned of him I mean my English prof played 'Suzanne' in class and I immediately dismissed him and his work as stupid. I was bored by his low register, by the repetition, by the lack of what I thought was instrumental interest, by the stupid lyrics that I didn't understand.

I was distracted by the boy that sat next to me. We often giggled conspiratorially at the prof's poor english skills. She was a fresh faced middle aged lady from Russia who spoke with a heavy accent. We never forgot one incident in which she was trying to describe an animal to us. "It's large, has spotted fur...." We stared at her blankly. "Rhymes with leotard..."

Could she possibly mean leopard? As one, the class burst into laughter. We sat there laughing at our bewildered professor for at least a minute. (We were a jolly, if somewhat immature bunch.) Finally, wiping the tears from my eyes, I enlightened her as to the correct pronunciation of that difficult word. Her face changed colour as she quickly went on with the lecture.

I've developed a bit more sensitivity since that year. Cohen moves me. I listen to him on repeat at work and the time flies by with his beautiful words.

You held on to me like I was a crucifix.

Like a baby stillborn

like a beast with his horn

I have torn

everyone who reached out for me.

I'm stubborn as those garbage bags

that time cannot decay.

I said, "Lady, unfold me".

Fire Hydrant in East Van

Here is the scene: hot Sunday evening, the sun on its slow journey down towards the blue mountains, we two on our bicycles, on our way home for dinner, our skin burnt from our afternoon on the beach, our bodies still glistening from our swim in the ocean.

I

The first thing we noticed was the water streaming down the road, under our tires. Then we saw the people. Dozens of them dancing and frolicking around a busted fire hydrant. You told me we couldn't miss this, so we leaned Beatrice and Rupert up against a fence, tore off our clothes and ran towards the spray. It was cold and it hurt but we dove through it like children.

I

There was music and beer and wet bodies and laughter and a carefree crowd enjoying the moment with a spontaneous exuberance that took my breath away.

I

You wanted to stay forever but I had an appointment to keep so we left slowly, with backward glances. You were grinning from ear to ear as you said, "Now I can cross that off my list."

Dean Martin vs Sad Baby

There was a small boy in a stroller in front of me on the skytrain yesterday. I couldn't see his mum's face, as she was turned away, but she was wearing a polka dot sun dress and her bare back and bronzed shoulders looked young from behind. I had my book in my lap but favoured watching the boy instead. He was fascinating. He had tousled blond hair and large dark eyes and was gazing solemnly at his mother. I couldn't hear what she was saying, as I was listening to my iPod, but whatever it was didn't sit very well with her young son. His face, slowly flushing in displeasure provided an interesting counterpoint to my music. I was listening to a live recording of Dean Martin, improvised of course, a vivacious crowd laughing at the end of almost every stanza.

I

I love Chicago, it's lively and gay,

I'd even work here without any pay.

I'll lay you odds it turns out that way,

That's why the gentleman is a tramp.

I

The boy's eyes filled with tears and his lower lip quivered dangerously as he watched his mother.

I

I love the free fresh booze that you get.

So I'm in debt, I'm flat, take that.

I

The tears spilled over, leaving streaks on his dirty cheeks. Suddenly he burst into sobs and covered his face with his small hands, giving himself over entirely to his wretched state. I sat there, mesmerized, torn between empathy for the wailing child and amusement at Martin's easy charm as he played with his Chicago audience.

I

My wife just told me, "Have I news for you.

The doctor's sure that I'm way overdue."

Wait til she finds out my girlfriend is too.

That's why this gentleman is a tramp.

I

The boy was still crying, with his eyes covered, as I got off at Broadway Station.

Family Reunion

Track Bikes

Of all the improbable professions I told my mum I'd like to devote myself to when I grew up (ie: tornado chaser), I never suspected that, as an adult, it would be something as romantic as an East Van hipster/bicycle snob.

What they care about:

-track bikes

-thrift store shopping

-independent music

-the environment

-not brushing their hair

What I care about:

-eating cereal

-my family

-reading

-sleeping with fluffy pillows

You see the discrepancy? I do have a bicycle but it has a basket and a bell and isn't built for speed. I can't carry it over my shoulder like a handbag as I so long to do because the frame is too thick. I don't venture out in the winter, earning me the reprehensible standing of Fair Weather Rider. And I enjoy nothing more than pedalling leisurely along companionably with a friend or two, taking in the view and stopping for an ice cream, which is a definite turn off for fixed gear enthusiasts whose sole aim is speed. In short, I'm just not the stuff bike snobs are made of. Perhaps I'll be a blogger instead?

Ode to Katie

Do you want to know who made me do it? (Start a blog, that is.) Katie. Or, as some extremely tactful people down the hall like to call her, tall girl. She is, admittedly, quite tall but I wouldn't say her height is her defining characteristic. She's an anomaly. Hard to place in a category. She wears pretty ruffly blouses tucked into high waisted skirts but kicks back in baby blue Uggs. She has a bachelor in fine arts but is returning to university for law. She plays basketball and cycles with a helmet. She hates Harry Potter and loves Mormon blogs. She knows New York almost as well as she knows Vancouver. In fact, she knows quite a lot about nearly everything. Google and her are like this.

I

Recently at work we were discussing the importance of a general knowledge of politics and after confessing my ignorance of even an elementary comprehension of it, she cleared the whiteboard and drew a diagram of the Canadian political spectrum. Conservatives and the Green Party were at opposite ends. NDP was left of centre, Bloc Quebecois right, and the Liberals were somewhere in the middle.

Underneath Conservatives she wrote:

• religion
• business
• money
• anti-gay
• ECONOMY!

Underneath NDP she wrote:

• socialist
• health care
• welfare
• gay

Above everything:

Alliance + Progressive Conservatives = Conservatives

Alliance = CRAZY

Stephen Harper, our blue eyed Prime Minister, is crazier than Bush, said Katie. And that is why I follow her advice. Because she knows.

Blizzards and Blood

Here is a conversation that just took place in my sister's kitchen between myself and my five year old niece. She was sitting at the table, her pencil crayons and colouring sheets spread out in front of her and a day old Tin Roof Brownie Blizzard melting quickly in her hand.

"Do you know what a menstrual cycle is?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Do you want to know?"

Nod. Ice cream running freely down her chin, brownie in its wake.

"It happens to girls. Well, women really. Once a month they feel kind of sick and blood comes out of them." I waited for a reaction.

She looked up from her icecream. "Ew."

Perturbed that she was taking it so lightly, I said, "How do you feel about that?"

She shrugged and rooted around for chocolaty chunks with her plastic spoon.

"Do you feel like that's weird or interesting?"

Shrug. Another bite.

"Gross? Cool? Awful? Wonderful?"

She shrugged four times.

I suppose empathy for the monthly plight of women will come later when she realizes how inexorably uncomfortable it is.

The Sunny Side of the Street

I walked on the other side of the street today. It felt so new. And strange. And good. I had no intention of crossing to the other side but a cyclist had activated the pedestrian controlled light and traffic was stopping just as I approached the intersection, so I crossed. I felt a bit shy. I always do when I cross a busy street like Oak. A bit sheepish, as if I was stealing time from these madly efficient commuters. I always feel as if they're looking at me impatiently, crossly. Hurry up, they tell me silently, exasperated.

I keep my pace casual. The light will change in its own time whether I walk briskly or not. I will not be intimidated by their glares. Piles of cars, each with a glaring driver. And more coming all the time. Eager to get home after a long day at work.

The west side of Oak was worth it though. It's lovely. It has big houses and tree shaded side streets. I passed one carefully groomed hedge of poison ivy. Alright, maybe not poison ivy, but it looked an awful lot like it. Life seemed more interesting over there, greener, brighter.

I'm slightly ashamed to admit how rousing I found the whole thing. Maybe I'll try it again tomorrow and see that it's not such a big deal afterall.