Friday, September 30, 2011


I keep saying that I'm going to start exercising, and I even found out which of the drop in fitness classes at the gym fit into my schedule, and wrote them into my agenda and my google calendar and my wall calendar.

There's Body Trim! for Mondays, after I am done work in the AV office (I work on campus, as a student assistant in the office that lends computers to professors so they can use the projectors during class).

Then there's either Zumba or Yoga on Tuesdays, after my study block in the library.

On Wednesdays, there's Yoga after work again.

So, that's just three days a week of scheduled exercise. You'd think I could manage that and that I might actually start not being a limp noodle of a human being anymore....

But it's jsut so hard to convince myself to go. Or I forget my gym clothes at home. Or I make up some other excuse like "I am le tiiiiired".

But really, I do want to start actually going. So.... let's say Monday I definitely am going to start?

I'll let you guys know how that goes...

Wooden Bird

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

My Last Year of Undergrad, What?!

It occurs to me that I haven't yet posted about starting back at school again.

So far, it's going reasonably well. I'm taking a class on post-humanism, taught by my favourite professor in the world, Kregg Hetherington, who (as you will see if you click on the link) is also the most beautiful professor in the world.

I'm also taking a class on violence and social suffering (a fun, lighthearted topic, no?) taught by one of the sweetest and nicest professors in the world, Lindsay DuBois.

And finally, I am enrolled in the honours seminar, which basically translates into my honours project for graduation. At my school, the anthropology and sociology departments are small enough that they just smoshed them together into the "department of sociology and social anthropology". Also, my school doesn't teach the other 3 pillars of anthropology, just social/cultural. So, for the honours programme, they take all the people signed up for honours that year and plunk them into a classroom, and one prof in the department gets to to sort of guide us through our projects. We don't have individual supervisors, although we are encouraged to talk with other profs in the department that are relevant to our research topic. The prof leading the honours seminar is Liesl Gambold, who is just amazing and nice and awesome and I love her to bits, if you couldn't tell.

For my honours' project, I am going to study student poverty, which I mentioned in a previous post about my experiences at CASCA, back in May. I want to look at coping/subsistence methods. I'm hoping that I will do a fantastic job on it and that some school will offer me lots of money to do my MA in anthropology, heh. Pipe dreams for the win! I am still thinking about doing Library Science, but my logic is as follows:

If a school is willing to fund my MA in anthro, I would LOVE to do it and would really have no reason not to... However.... if I am going to have to struggle to pay for grad school on my own, I would rather go do libraries, with a co-op, and get a real job as soon as possible. If I can convince people to pay me to be a student, I'd be happier than the proverbial pig in shit, but unless that's going to happen, I need to be more realistic. So, I'm going to keep my options open.

I was also taking an english class on cinematic narrative, but it was more boring than I had anticipated, as well as at 7pm in the evening on Thursdays, so I decided to drop it. Instead, I'm going to take a class called "Literature, Migration, and Citizenship" next term, which I feel like will be more up my alley as far as subject matter goes.

I recently bought an agenda and scheduled my entire life out until I'm done for the term on the 7th of December. Now... to actually go get work done... My reading for the day is on the Holocaust...

Wooden Bird

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

I'm a bad person... (not a real post)

My screensaver makes me giggle... it's just the text of the warcry I made up for the last D&D campaign I played...

"Eat Tit MotherFucker" scrolls back and forth across my screen whenever I idle too long...

Come on.... isn't that funny? Am I really the only one juvenile enough to be amused by that?

Anyone? No?


Wooden Bird

Monday, September 26, 2011

Animal Planet in my Bedroom

I live with a ferocious fly-hunter.

Freddie is ruthless. She can practically pick them out of the air. Not quite, yet... but I imagine she just needs to get over the last of her clumsy kitten phase and she'll have them flying away in fear. Except they won't be able to get away because she will be THAT hardcore.

Wooden Bird

Saturday, September 24, 2011

Why Being a Grown Up Is Lame

When you're my age (23) people sort of expect you to act like a grown up. This means not throwing tantrums, getting an education or a job, maintaining stable and healthy relationships with other people, paying bills on time, building credit, and all sorts of other things that tell the world you are no longer a child.

However, this sucks. Especially the tantrums and relationships part. If I could throw a tantrum about the state of my relationships right now, I would.

I'm tired of being alone, and I miss my ex. We're roommates and trying to stay friends and still spend half our time together. Many of my friends, and his friends, think this is a terrible idea and that we're crazy. My friends think I won't get over him because of this. They think that getting over him is the only way for me to move on with my life.

Well. You know... maybe getting over him would be the grown up thing to do. And maybe saying "I don't wanna" is childish and silly and I should act my age. But...

I don't wanna.

I can move on with my life, and get a job and a house and even have relationships and have a successful and pleasant life even if I don't get over him, and I'm really tired of my friends giving me that "you're just hurting yourself more" look.

I loved this man freely for nearly two years. Maybe that's not a lot of time in the grand scheme of things, but it was such a complete and embedded part of who I was, that it helped shape the person I am now. And I still love him, and I don't think there is anything wrong with that. I care about him so much, he remains one of my best and closest friends. If he didn't care at all about me, he wouldn't be trying to maintain our friendship as well, so you know... fuck being a grown up. I don't want to be a grown up if the rational thought that accompanies it means giving up on an incredible friendship just because we used to have sex and then he broke my heart.

Yeah, it's weird when he brings a girl home, because I get jealous and wish he still wanted me, and he's totally okay with it when *I* bring a girl home, because he's not the one still hung up on our relationship, but you know what. I can deal with weird. I can deal with some emotional hardship if the big picture means I don't lose my best friend, one of the most caring and intelligent and funny people I have ever known.

I'm dating again. I've been out with a couple girls, and I don't know. Maybe I'll move in on a guy friend who is recently out of a shitty relationship, as well. Who knows. The point is, I'm moving on with my life, but I'm doing it without getting over him.

Why? Why am I so adamant about holding on to him this way? Because I want to want him still, if he ever turns to me and says "I needed this time apart, but I miss you, and I do love you, and I want to try to make this work again." In case he ever needs me and wants me again, I want to be here for him, I want to take him back and still love him with all my heart.

I don't think letting part of myself wait for him will cripple my life or my happiness. I watched my mother's miserable marriages fall apart one after the other, and I'm not going to let myself be as miserable and disappointed as she was. I'm not going to give up completely on the one truest love I've ever experienced. I think keeping ahold of it might be the most positive thing I could do, because as long as I hold on to it, it suggests that I still believe in the impossible.

I know very well that he'll probably never turn around and ask me to come back into his life in the capacity of lover and partner, but there's always a chance. I am not a psychic, I can't see the future.

I have hope, and yeah, hope isn't cynical enough to be a grown up experience these days; at least it seems that way. And so, being grown up is lame, and I refuse. I will hold on to my childish hope and live in an ignorant haze all my life, believing I could be truly and completely happy, someday.

Wooden Bird