We’re finally home!  I  have to say, I’m so happy to be back.  I know I raved about how excited I was to be going, but I was homesick by the time we arrived and am now thrilled to be here again.  We did the drive from Winnipeg in two days, with one stop in Calgary for sleep.  Husband did all the driving!  This means we got home a lot faster than if I were driving, but also that my sphincter is tight as a drum and I may never poop again.  Actually, I will - I’m eating cherries by the pound.  It’s only a matter of time.

So, I will give you all the gory tales of the holiday - most particularly my rationale for declaring Saskatchewan the new anus of Canada (displacing the former title holder, New Brunswick) - but for now, I’m too tired.  Also, I’m realizing how much time I waste online.  While on holiday, I read three and a half books, even though we were busy and out and about quite a lot.  (I left all school reading behind and only took fiction - science fiction, at that.)  How did I do it?  Easy.  I didn’t watch TV or go online.  Amazing - when you don’t waste all your time, you have lots of it to actually do things, like read.  I have decided to do more living and less wasting.   I’ll still blog but need to keep the other internet fiddling down to a dull roar.

I read two great books and one mediocre one.  The mediocre one was The Plague Dogs by Richard Adams.  It was okay.  I loved Watership Down and also others of his books, and this one just didn’t stand up.  I give it a “meh.”

One of the great books was A Canticle for Leibowitz, by Walter Miller.  It’s basically about proto-Catholics who emerge after a nuclear holocaust.  The story takes place in three different times, and tells a sort of morality tale about human nature.  It’s a classic of the post-apocalyptic genre, and could be considered horribly cliched unless you realize it was published in 1956, and therefore predates most other post-apocalyptic fiction.  I thought it was interesting and well written.  There’s a smattering of thought provoking philosophy, but it’s not preachy at all.  And it has nuclear mutants.  What more do you want?

I also read Riddley Walker, by Russell Hoban.  What can I say about this book?  It’s one of the most engrossing, challenging, amazing books I’ve read in ages.  Maybe years.  It blew me away.  Here’s what the New York Times had to say about it, and I totally agree: “Stunning, delicious designed to prevent the modern reader from becoming stupid.”

Riddley Walker is also a post-apocalyptic story, but very different.  It’s Riddley’s own story, covering his beginnings in an iron-age society, his change of position in that society, and the crazy shit that ensues.  I don’t even know how to describe the story - there is a surface story but it doesn’t really represent very fully what’s going on in the book.  It’s written in its own language - a sort of demotic English created by the author.  This sounds like a lame device (Trainspotting, anyone?), but it’s not.  The language is hard to get through, and this slows the reader down to Riddley’s pace of comprehension.  The words were also chosen, intentionally, to house as many meaning as possible.  This makes the text rich and deep and excellent for mulling over and pondering.  It keeps you thinking and on your toes.

It’s not an easy read.  The book is short, about 210 pages, and it took me probably ten hours or so to get through it.  I did a lot of flipping back and forth as I would suddenly figure out the meaning of a word or phrase that had previously eluded me, and had to go back to see its original context.  I had to read parts aloud to get the meanings, because phonetically spelled English can be hard to decipher.  There are multiple layers of meaning, and several themes at play to think about.  But it’s a rewarding read.  I know I’ll read this one again, probably soon, before I forget the words I’ve learned.  There’s just so much packed into this book.  Love it!

Now I’m reading Evolution for Everyone by David Sloan Wilson, and have I Am A Strange Loop by Douglas Hofstaedter next in line.  No more time for the internet, have to go read now.

Hi all.  I’m at the public library in Winnipeg, using up my fifteen minutes on the public access computers to let you know we are alive and well, despite the best efforts of that horrible province, Saskatchewan.  Hoo nelly will I have rotten things to say about them when I get home!

For now, I’ll just say we’re having a blast.  We just got back to the city after four days at our friend’s cabin on a lake.  The third night there, we had the most spectacular lightning storm you can imagine.  It lasted about 90 minutes and I estimate there were close to a thousand lightning strikes in that time.  There were times when we were seeing two or even three flashes of sheet lightning in one second!  It totally blew me away (figuratively).  I’ve never seen such a stunning display of nature.  Truly, it was awesome.  Especially the part where Husband scuttled back to the cabin when some bolts hit a bit closer to us than he thought they would (he was out on the dock for best views, while I was inside fretting about whether he was going to get fried). 

Winnipeg has been surprisingly beautiful and interesting.  The only major downside is that apparently every mosquito on planet Earth is here and out for blood, and as a result I look like I have smallpox.  I’m so itchy.  Of course the more you scratch the more it itches, but so far that hasn’t stopped me.  Scratch scratch!

Tomorrow Husband and I leave on our glorious, cross-country road tip. Vancouver to Winnipeg actually, which isn’t really cross-country - we did Halifax to Vancouver last year, and that’s cross-country. But its long enough. I can’t wait! I am so excited! I love road trips. We both enjoy driving quite a bit, and seem to mutually enjoy the experience of hours and hours on the road. I’ll be packing the CD’s (guess how much Clutch is going in there? I’m on a bit of a tear. Ooh, maybe I’ll burn my favourites onto one or two CD’s…?) so we’ll have good tunes.

Today I have to clean up the house a bit, because there’s nothing worse than coming home to a messy house. And we have to pack. Our car is pretty little, and its trunk is even littler. We can fit exactly two carry-on sized cases in it and nothing else. We also don’t have a back seat, just a little gap behind the driver and passenger seats where you could slide your purse, or maybe a small laptop bag. So packing requires much care. We have two weeks to be ready for, and everything needs to fit in the teensiest of spaces. No multiple shoes for me!

What else… I have to submit my paper in its final form, which should be no problem.

————–

Update: The paper is submitted.  The apartment is coming along nicely - the cleaning is largely done, and so is the laundry.  I did end up making a best of Clutch CD - two actually.  It was hard getting my favourites down from seven CD’s to two eighty-minuters.

My cousin is housesitting while we’re away, so I’ve also drafted a longer-than-needed letter explaining where absolutely everything in the apartment is, how to use all of the electronic devices, where all the amenities in the building are (garbage, parking, pool, lady with the wheezy dog, etc), and so on.  Hopefully we get some sun so he can enjoy the patio.

And as for me, now all that’s left is packing.  If I get a chance I’ll update from the road, but otherwise, I’ll see you all in two weeks.

Another day of classes with the bad professor.  I must give credit where credit is due: today was the best class we’ve had.  There was some good discussion.  The atmosphere was friendly overall.  It was much more pleasant than previous classes have been.  It wasn’t great, but it was tolerable.  I’m torn between my empathy for the professor as a human being and my irritation at him as a teacher.  The latter will win out in the assessment.

Anyway, this post is about the embarrassing thing I just did.  Tonight I came home on the skytrain after dinner out with some fellow students.  I had put in my earbuds and was rocking out to some tunes on my little mp3 player, really digging the music.  I’ve been listening to the same song over and over for weeks now - I just love it and can’t get enough (The Rapture of Riddley Walker by Clutch, for those who are interested).  Anyway, it was just at the best part when I arrived at my stop, so I had it turned up good and loud for maximum listening pleasure.  I was just getting off the skytrain when I realized I had to pass gas.

You, dear reader, know that nothing good can come of this.

So, you know that phenomenon where, if you can’t see someone, they also can’t see you?  (More properly stated, if you can’t see someone, they can’t see your eyes.  But anyway.)  Well, I think something in a related vein was going through my head in a slightly less than fully conscious manner, because somehow I decided that if I can’t hear my fart, no one else can either.

Cringe with me.  I’m cringing just remembering it.  Because you know what happens next.  Oh yes.  I let ‘er rip. A very satisfying and undoubtedly noisy fart that I didn’t hear at all.  But all the other people on the platform did.  And they all turned at once to stare at me, the public farter.  I instantly realized what had happened.  And the shame!  Oh the shame!

Let this be a lesson to you.  Farting is much, much worse than accidentally singing along.  So be careful with your mp3 player.

So what should I do here: as you know, I hate my professor and believe he is totally incompetent.  I will be writing a thorough assessment but - as anyone who has been in admin can tell you, the powers that be can’t do anything about sucky employees unless they have concrete examples and proof of incompetence.

Now, I have some proof.  My emails to and from the professor clearly demonstrate his utter failure to help me, to be a resource, in fact to even read my message.  I realize this probably isn’t a firing offense but it’s damning.  But if I submit copies, he’ll instantly know who did it.  That means he’ll be able to identify my whole assessment, which will not be kind.

It is possible that I may have him again in the future.  Maybe not… but maybe.  I don’t know either way.  If I do, this is seriously shooting myself in the foot.  On the other hand, if I say nothing, that shoots me in the foot too because it means he might stay on as a professor and maybe that increases my chances of having him again.  We’ve been told by admin that even if they decide to sack him, because of contract reasons that could take a few semesters.  I only have five semesters left - he could potentially teach me again even if my assessment helps get him fired.  And if he knows that, he’ll be gunning for me.

So what would you do?  Would you give your full, honest assessment with all your evidence and just blast away, even though he might be able to exact revenge at some later date?  Or would you keep your head down, write a nasty assessment but keep anything identifying out of it?

Guess what I’m doing this August?

I know it’s hard to read because my camera stinks, but that there on my fridge is two tickets to see Clutch perform. I’m so excited I could pop!

Don’t mind the censor marks. I only left in the adverbs.

To the person or persons who keep calling over and over: FUCK OFF!

Let me explain something about how phones and voicemail works.  Say you want to call me.  I can’t imagine why but we’ll put that aside.  You dial my number, and the phone in my house rings.  Three things can now happen:

1. I’m home, feel like talking, and answer the phone.  Everybody’s happy - hooray for you.

2. I’m not home, can’t answer, and you get booted to voicemail.

3. I’m home, am too busy watching Law and Order to answer, and you get booted to voicemail.

There is no practical distinction between scenarios (2) and (3).  In either case, for all you know, I am in Antarctica and will be for the next four months.  In either case, you can leave me a message on my voicemail.  In either case, it will do you NO GOOD AT ALL to keep calling back at fifteen minute intervals because, as I have explained, no one will pick up the phone.  All you will accomplish is irritating me, making me so choked at the phone (we psychology types call this “displacement”) that I won’t check messages for a week, and then you’re really screwed, aren’t you?

I suspect my frequent caller knows me, knows I ignore the phone, and is trying to wear me down.  Or to catch me coming home, blissfully unaware that there have already been three calls in the last hour.  To this person I say, I understand where you are coming from.  I take full responsibility for being horrible with the phone etiquette.  I can see why you’re doing what you’re doing.  But stop anyway.  You’re bugging me.

The phone is a convenience.  I am not a slave to it.  I own one mostly because one day I might need to call 911, and I require it to buzz people into my apartment.  If it weren’t for that, I’d be sorely tempted to toss it and rely exclusively on email.  (Email is so much more civilised!)  Until that day, I will probably continue to be a turd about phone response. And will appreciate not getting haranguing calls all afternoon long.

So there.  I said it and I’m glad.

Don’t you just love zombies?

Today I was at my volunteer job. I’m working on what is actually a pretty neat project, and I’m enjoying being a part of it, though I have to say the work itself is somewhat tedious. Right now I’m heavily into editing and compiling the manual for the project, which is fussy work. I have to make sure all parts of the various documents agree with each other in terminology, pagination, protocols and algorithms. This appeals to my fussy side but by the end of the day I have pretty severe brain fatigue.

Now I have to rest a bit, maybe take a bath, and then hit the books for my test on Saturday. Test! Saturday morning! These are things which should never go together. Alas, in my case they have. Oh well. I’ve made good notes and the studying is coming along pretty well. As usual I feel I could use an extra couple of days to really nail it all down but of course I don’t have extra days. What can you do. Once the test is done I can mentally check out and just stare into space for the rest of the weekend’s class time, which will probably be more entertaining than the classwork itself.  Maybe I’ll make good on my threat to bring my laptop to school, to take advantage of the wireless internet.  The internet is fun!

I am still quite pleased if not a bit smug that my paper for this class is done - there’s some editing left and I’ll wait for the formal assignment speech before turning it in (in case he reveals some requirements that I didn’t get, which wouldn’t surprise me). But what a relief to know it’s basically finished, just sitting there waiting to be turned in. I love having things organized and ready ahead of time.  Every time I think of this I get happy.

Then, on Tuesday next, I’m leaving for my holiday! Yippee!

Much test studying occurred today.  Very tedious, very boring.  I have not seen Law and Order in two full days because of this stupid test, which should tell you both about my dedication to the cause and about my probable level of irritation.  (Hint: high.)

I’m also having one of those days where it’s never the right temperature.  It’s too hot; I open the door.  A cold gust comes in and I suddenly realize my toes are blue; I shut the door.  Ten minutes later I am sweating.  And so on.

It’s getting late and I should be heading off to bed soon… I have work in the morning.  Boy, I don’t say that very often!  And I enjoy it even less…