Pictures Up!

I finally got uploading the pictures from the Steven and Chris show. You can see them here.

And just for good measure, check out these pictures taken around Christmastime with a real live reindeer! From the Zellers in Alliston, no less.

Santa, the reindeer, and me!

Mike was too shy to pose with the reindeer, but was loved going around snapping lots of pictures of him. I think he was more excited about seeing the reindeer than I was!

Not Listening or Not Hearing?

Created by Train Horns

Well I didn't as much hear it as much as feel it in my eardrums. Ack.

[Insert Clever/Witty Title Here]

I love my student house. It's newly renovated, the rooms are nice, and we pay low rent every month, all inclusive. So don't get me wrong, I'm not bashing it. But let me just say that this place scares me sometimes.

I don't mean the "ahh creepy" kind of scare, though when no one else is home I will admit to turning on all the lights and sleeping beside an exacto knife. What I mean is that things that you normally take for granted doing in a house will sometimes have serious consequences that you totally didn't expect.

For example, the power fuse is famous for blowing when a roommate has his heater plugged in (an energy-efficient one even) and you turn on the kitchen lights. Though it has happened quite a few times, it still scares the crap out of me. One moment I am happily doing whatever it is I'm doing, the next moment I think I have been struck blind and trip over everything in a panic.

I think this is slowly conditioning a fear of late-night kitchen visits, especially since the fuse also blow when you open the back fridge (where the frozen food is). Recently I've been substituting oreos for real food when I'm hungry at night. I don't know what effects it has been having on my health and well-being but I know of one dreadful consequence that I fear will haunt me for life:

I'm starting to hate oreos.

Is It Just Me Or Do You Soundtrack Your Life Too?

Whenever my life changes somehow I always have a song stuck in my head that accompanies it. It could be one that I haven't heard in a while and chances are it has nothing to do with the situation, but it suits the mood nonetheless. Am I alone in this?

Currently feeling: "Champagne Supernova" by Oasis

Sorry but life is not always happy rainbows and sunshine and neither are people. So here is a rant.

I love working at an authentic Asian restaurant. You get to talk with your coworkers about their way of life and best of all you get to dress up in traditional wear and eat traditional food. You can learn a lot about a place through food. It's like a cultural experience every time I go.

But for some people, that makes them uncomfortable. Our primal instinct is to fear change. Every fiber of our being strives for homeostasis, down to the smallest cells. But nobody gets anywhere just maintaining balance. You don't build an immune system encased in a bubble. Sorry to say, Jake Gyllenhaal only got to live because he was so cute... in real life he would've died from a cold. Just like Ariel would be shipped off to the highest paying freak show if she had ever transformed in front of her prince in real life. Damn movies.

Anyways...

While I was working a couple of middle-aged women walked in, debating on whether or not they were going to stay. So I greeted them super friendly, handed them menus, seated them, and politely waited for them to come to a decision. As it was a quiet night and I have fully-functional ears, I couldn't help but overhear some of their conversation. After like 10 minutes they decided to leave, but what struck me most was their reasoning: "What is that music? This place is too tacky, look at what that girl is wearing!" Exact words, I swear. As they laugh and make their getaway - without as much as a thank you - I could not help but simmer at their remark. How closed-minded do you have to be to consider another culture "tacky"? You could make the argument that maybe they haven't been exposed to different cultures yet, but seriously, come on. They are two full-grown women living in one of the most multicultural cities in at least North America. You could tell they weren't tourists. And they deliberately walked into a clearly Asian restaurant. Give me a break. Insensitive, sure. Arrogant, definitely. Maybe it was for the best that they didn't stay.

They probably wouldn't tip anyways.

- - -

But to be fair, aren't we all a little arrogant and closed-minded sometimes? And by a little I mean I am cushioning my own ego here. I have plenty of moments like that where I forget that diversity is the spice of life and I will look skeptically at strangers, not even giving them a chance. I mean the reason I can't speak Mandarin is that I grew up ashamed of my culture, that it was different from everyone else's, and refused to practice it.

So in reality (in some weird twisted way) I should be thanking these women. Through grinding my gears they have taught me how important it is to respect and appreciate the differences in others. And through dealing with customers who complain about everything under the sun from when I worked in Wal-Mart, I have learned (and am still learning) that you can't win every battle.

But it's fun to fight them nonetheless.

Words to Dwell On

“Until inequality is challenged, things often seem to be just fine; when groups stand up and demand equality, we suddenly see how fiercely people will defend their privilege.”

- Sociological Images, Feb 6, 2009

...So I’m calling on this community to commute; to move past passing judgment ’cause it was twenty-six years before I saw anything beautiful in me. Twenty-six years, each with 365 days, and between, nearly ten thousand dawns of dysphoria; of waking under waterfalls, waiting to be washed clean, or carried off. And we are eighty percent water: fluidity seems only natural to change state into birthright. Isn’t that what we’re taught? That energy is neither gain nor loss; from lava to mountain; from fire to rock.

- Mourner’s Prayer by Harvey Katz

"Hey Baby"

I have a fascination with coffee shops. Every time I go in, whether it be Second Cup, Starbucks, or good old Timmy's, it feels almost like a relief. When you're a student, a coffee shop is what pushes your mind hour after hour punching out those notes, papers, and tests. It also fuels those late-night questions, hypothesis, and our own theories about the world.

The following reminds me of a coffee shop discussion I had last week with a couple of friends - both guys - on makeup.

Slip of the Tongue by Adriel Luis

My glares burn through her.
And I’m sure that such actions aren’t foreign to her
because the essence of her beauty is, well, the essence of beauty.

And in the presence of this higher being,
the weakness of my masculinity kicks in,
causing me to personify my wannabe big-baller, shot-caller,
God’s gift to the female species with shiny suit wrapping rapping like,
“Yo, what’s crackin shorty how you livin’ what’s your sign what’s your size I dig your style, yo.”

Now, this girl was no fool.
She gives me a dirty look with the quickness like,
“Boy, you must be stupid.”
so I’m looking at myself,
“Boy, you must be stupid.”
But looking upon her I am kinda feelin’ her style.

So I try again.
But, instead of addressing her properly,
I blurt out one of my fake-ass playalistic lines like,
“Gurl, you must be a traffic ticket cuz you got fine written all over you.”
Now, she’s trying to leave and I’m trying to keep her here.
So at a final attempt, I utter,
“Gurl, what is your ethnic makeup?”

At this point, her glare was scorching through me,
and somehow she manages to make her brown eyes
resemble some kinda brown fire or something,
but there’s no snap or head moement,
no palm to face, click of tongue, middle finger,
roll of eyes, twist of lips, or girl power chant.
She just glares through me with these burning eyes
and her gaze grabs you by the throat.

She says, “Ethnic makeup?”
She says, “First of all, makeup’s just an anglicized, colonized, commodified utility
that my sisters have been programmed to consume,
forcing them to cover up their natural state
in order to imitate what another sister looks like in her natural state
because people keep telling her
that the other sister’s natural state is more beautiful
than the first sister’s natural state.
At the same time,
the other sister isn’t even in her natural state,
because she’s trying to imitate yet another sister,
so in actuality, the natural state that the first sister’s trying to imitate
wasn’t even natural in the first place.”

Now I’m thinking, “Damn, this girl’s kicking knowledge!”
But, meanwhile, she keeps spitting on it like
“Fine. I’ll tell you bout my ‘ethnic makeup.’
I wear foundation,
not that powdery shit,
I wear the foundation laid by my indigenous people.
It’s that foundation that makes it so that past being globalized,
I can still vocalize with confidence that i know where my roots are.
I wear this foundation not upon my face, but within my soul,
and I take this from my ancestors
because I’ll be damned if I’d ever let an American or European corporation
tell me what my foundation
should look like.”

I wear lipstick,
for my lips stick to the ears of men,
so they can experience in surround sound my screams of agony
with each lash of rulers, measuring tape, and scales,
as if my waistline and weight are inversely propotional to my value as a human being.
See my lips, they stick, but not together.
Rather, they flail open with flames to burn down this culture that once kept them shut.
Now, I mess with eye shadow,
but my eyes shadow over this time where you’ve gone at ends to keep me blind.
But you can’t cover my eyes, look into them.
My eyes foreshadow change.
My eyes foreshadow light.
and I’m not into hair dyeing.
but I’m here, dying, because this oppression won’t get out of my hair.
I have these highlights.
They are highlights of my past atrocities,
they form this oppression I can’t wash off.
It tangles around my mind and twists and braids me in layers,
this oppression manifests,
it’s stressing me so that even though I don’t color my hair,
in a couple of years it’ll look like I dyed it gray.
So what’s my ethnic makeup ?
I don’t have any.
Because your ethnicity isn’t something you can just make up.
And as for that crap my sisters paint on their faces, that’s not makeup, it’s make-believe.”

I can’t seem to look up at her.
and I’m sure that such actions aren’t foreign to her
because the expression on her face
shows that she knows that my mind is in a trance.

As her footsteps fade, my ego is left in crutches.
And rejection never sounded so sweet.

New: having but lately come or been brought into being

Speaking of new things, I now have a new favourite blog (besides my friends' of course): Sociological Images. Don't let the name fool you, it's not boring, bland, or textbook-like. Though I'm sure that some sociology profs draw from this, it's these interesting pictures taken every day that makes us question or think a little deeper about the society we live in. And at this point in our lives (or maybe for the rest of our lives) I think it's important to not be so stoic. Because really you miss out on a lot of things if you don't allow your perpective to change.

Anyways while going through some of the archives, this really struck me. Ever since the women's studies class I started taking last year (but dropped out because I was being an idiot - still am) really made me rethink issues such as feminism, sex, and gender. And since I am a woman biologically and genderly (a word?) and heterosexual to boot, things that are and have been an issue for some are news to me. See Forays Into The Men's Room from Genderkid, a funny but striking post on such issues. But I wander off topic.

What I'm trying to say is to check this out:


http://contexts.org/socimages/2009/01/30/on-being-genderqueer
Sociological Images has the transcript which makes it easier to understand, especially with the speaking fast and the audience noise.

I love it.

Happy Post-Valentine's Day...

New and Improved

New title! New layout! New post!

My aren't we lucky today?

Faculty Branding

I hardly ever check the Outlook but when I did there was a special surprise waiting for me. Yes that's right, the Gerontology sweatshirts are out!



Okay they are butt-ugly and we are being raped out of $50 but the gerontology major is a small one and we need to make up for it in a big way.

Too bad there are no name stitching like the science majors'. But I'll take what I can get.

Screw First Impressions

Always, always my first impressions are wrong. Especially when I have a preconceived notion about something - whether it be good or bad how it turns out to be is always the opposite.

Example 1: Vector Cereal

The impression.
Since the boyfriend and I are both short of funds but living in the same place, we have co-operative grocery shopping. That way we can buy in bulk without worrying about things going bad and we can save lots of money and spend less on luxury items (i.e. cookies, popcorn shrimp, etc). Buying cereal was not easy though as we both prefer different kinds of cereal. His childhood favourite: Vector. Not only did I hate it the first time I tried it, he found out he didn't like it when he tried it again. So we have this big box of cereal sitting in our pantry for months, stale-ing away.
The final verdict:
Due to the need for a study snack and a lack of snackable foods in the house (damn lack of funds) I once again eyed the notorious dark blue box. Turns out it's pretty good as a snack even without milk. Or maybe especially without milk. It's crunchy, sweet, and the box tells you it's loaded with vitamins which I assume are good for the working brain.

Happiness.

Example 2: Gerontology 2B03

The impression.
Human Biology of Aging. A delightful mix of gerontology and biology (two subjects I love) and a prof who's enthusiastic and has enough time on her hands to make things beautifully detailed slides cram-packed with information. So much so that you don't even need to take notes or even, for that matter, attend the night class.
The final verdict.
So the first midterm is coming up. She tells us what to expect. Loads of short and long answer questions. Okay, okay you can bluff your way through that. But it's not that simple. She wants you to know everything inside and out. No straight memorizations either: marks are deducted if we try to explain anything the same way she did. To get full marks for even a short answer question your explanations must be creative and innovative. She wants to be amazed. Her exact words, I swear.

Aggravation.