email from the spaniard

Today's soundtrack:
"Hide and Seek" by Imogen Heap
"Case of You" by Joni Mitchell

Miguelito just sent me this. To be honest, I don't know quite what to say about it. Should I worry that England has been taken over by a band of badly dressed Jedi Knights, or should be more concerned that Miguelito equates me with Star Wars obsessed nerdlingers?

a week in the life of a grad student

Today's soundtrack:
"Rest Of My Life" and "Who Taught You To Live Like That?" by Sloan
"Courage" by the Tragically Hip

MONDAY: Teach 20 disgruntled first years. Worry that they are plotting some kind of coup. Should work on thesis chapter that is due in a week. Rush home to watch Corner Gas instead.

TUESDAY: Stay home with intention of working on thesis chapter. Go shopping for groceries and catch up on General Hospital instead.

WEDNESDAY: Go to lecture and mark papers. Firmly commit to working on thesis chapter, but mark papers and make spaghetti instead.

THURSDAY: Stay home again with apparent illness. Delicate constitution demands that papers be marked and thesis chapter ignored. Baked cake and drooled over McDreamy instead.

FRIDAY: Woot! No school. Something about a war... remembrance... in lieu of... something... should work on thesis chapter but enjoy a noche de español with the smug marrieds instead.

SATURDAY: Realise that there are only two days left until the chapter is due. Print out rough draft and nurse nose-turned-faucet in front of tv. Canucks lost. Again. Clean house instead.

SUNDAY: Must work on thesis chapter. Roughriders lost. Again. Finally finished both chapter and tomorrow's class plan at 1am. For the record, that is unusually early in the evening. Decide to write a blog in style of Bridget Jones. Hoping family won't take my procrastination as a sign of avoidance of real world, as procrastination is in fact an avoidance of real world. Found comic that expresses current feeling:

When the stress is neverending, procrastination becomes the only defence against utter insanity.

Don't worry, next week will be better.

and what's more...

Today's soundtrack:
Carpal Tunnel Syndrome by Kid Koala (in honour of Miguelito)

Continuing with last night's blissed-out realization that sanity is reclaiming its rightful place in society, I woke up to the news that Rumsfeld has quit. See, this day just keeps getting better and better... well... except for the foot of snow I just cleared from the walk. I guess it's winter now.

from one edwardian sister to another

Today's soundtrack:
Midterm Midtacular by the Daily Show and the Colbert Report.

Found this little movie for Lady J. Look, it has both Clive Owen and Gary Oldman. Almost as good as sipping a morning cappuccino in the streets of Florence. Almost as PC-cigarette-worthy.



Why the gloriously wonderful mood today? Well you see, everything is going back to the way it's supposed to be. Britney is getting divorced. Doogie Howser is gay. The world makes sense again. I take this as a sign that the Democrats will finally do something and win back the House, if not the Senate. It's as though the world, which has stood on the brink of complete and utter annihilation by sheer stupidity, is finally pulling itself back and saying, like someone who blacked out at 3am and has now woken up in a strange house with the Sex Pistols playing the background, "what the hell happened last night?".

Finally, some sanity in the world. Now where's my PC cigarette?

"i'm crazy gary oldman!"

Today's soundtrack:
Piano Concerto No. 5 "Emperor" by Beethoven

Over the past few evenings, I watched Immortal Beloved, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, and Dracula (which, in hindsight, was pretty stupid considering my overactive imagination and avoidance of everything even marginally scary). See a trend? Anyone? Anyone at all? Well, due to a resurging obsession with everything Gary Oldman has ever been in, I came across this in my internet travels. It's a 15-minute play version of Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban. Laughed out loud. Woke the neighbours up.

And anyway, how could anyone not completely admire an actor who can play a crazed DEA officer and still seem so damned sexy? Oh go ahead - laugh. Go on. But I have some very fond memories of that movie, not the least of which involving a friend who insisted on dressing like Léon.

Note: Current obsession is the direct result of the Spaniard being surrounded by Cuban Geishas. I cannot be held responsible. Or, at least, I shouldn't be.

a poetic education

Today's soundtrack:
"Mass Romantic" by the New Pornographers
"Hold On, Hold On" by Neko Case

Came across this on YouTube (or GooTube, if you like). I guess everyone had to read this in elementary school. It's one of two poems that threw me for a loop because of the ending (the other being "Porphyria's Lover" by Robert Browning). Anyway, as this city seems determined to force me into my winter parka before the end of October, I thought this poem was oddly appropriate as a form of mental conditioning for the long, dark, cold, miserable, seemingly endless, depressing, hopeless, frigid, dastardly, cruel winter that lay ahead of us like the Siberian tundra.

public service announcement

Today's soundtrack:
"I'll Stick Around" by the Foo Fighters
"You're All I've Got Tonight" by the Smashing Pumpkins

I would like to take this opportunity to publicly declare my undying love for my Mac.



See? Macs suffer from the devaluation of the humanities too! Clearly, we're meant to be together. Don't fight it, Hot Mac Guy.

you call that music?

Today's soundtrack:
Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness by the Smashing Pumpkins

So I've been thinking a fair bit about what Danielita wrote in her blog the other day. It's troubling to think that I, who worshipped at the throne of George Stroumboulopoulos back when he was the edgy VJ, now scoff at the latest pelvic thrusts of nuevo punk, pop, and rock "artists" (yes, I am using the term artists veryloosely). When did I become this stuck-up prude who would rather listen to Herbert von Karajan's recording of La Nozze di Figaro and sip sherry than catch the "Top Ten at Ten" on the Fox (a reference for the Vancouverite in all of us)?

I thought a good starting place would be to figure out what the best albums of the 90s were. Well, that's entirely too subjective, so I decided to figure out which five cds I wore out over the course of the 90s.

Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness - the Smashing Pumpkins
Big Shiny Tunes - MuchMusic (before they sucked)
Jagged Little Pill - Alanis Morissette
OK Computer - Radiohead
This Is My Truth Tell Me Yours - Manic Street Preachers

Pretty mainstream stuff, really. Then I got to wondering what the top albums of the 90s would have been for the current mainstream darlings. My Chemical Romance. Billy Talent. Fall Out Boy. Justin Timberlake. Who were their influences? Suddenly, I begin to see a trend, a connection between the 80s and what's currently in rotation. It's not all, but mostly 80s redux.

I hated the 80s. Unequivocally. Well, the 80s did give us U2, which I guess I shouldn't complain about. But what about Madonna? Flock of Seagulls? There was some good to come out of the 80s (like December 31st, 1989), but in my humble opinion, it was a rather dark time for music. I guess for those who loved the 80s, the current musical trends must be wonderful. For me, it's Hell 2.0, a horrific trip down a neon spandex-filled memory lane.

It's a musical time lag. I have to wait until 2010 before 90s music is reinterpreted and built upon in any meaningful way. Well, maybe not until 2010. There are some exceptions: Metric, New Pornographers, Fiest, Modest Mouse, and Death Cab for Cutie seem to be doing a good job of still creating good new music. Sort of a voice in the wilderness type of thing. Until then, I'll be revisiting my Smashing Pumpkins collection, if only to annoy the boys upstairs who believe that angst-ridden rock was invented in 2006.

"all the news that's new and improved"

Today's soundtrack:
"Peace Train" by Cat Stevens

Today, I made paella de veduras. Yesterday, I fixed the frother on my espresso machine. Tomorrow, I may just fix the doorbell. Clearly I am missing my calling as handywoman extraordinare.

Also, caught fellow Dover Bay alum on Lost tonight. It was a bit like a trip down memory lane, except that this time he wasn't treating me like a servile techie. Also, he wasn't preening infront of the mirror for 10 minutes (still one of the funniest moments in high school backstage craziness ever). Well, maybe he did, but at least it wasn't onstage. So that was a nice change.

I shall reward myself for the making of paella with the ceremonial eating of the chocolate bar. Mm.. sacred chocolate.

Also, if you can name the movie that the title quote is from, you will win the Christmas turkey*.

* N.B. no actual Christmas turkey will be awarded, but maybe you'll get a pat on the back. That's just as good, right?

ah.. the geekiness

Today's soundtrack:
"I Can See For Miles" by the Who
"Magic Carpet Ride" by Steppenwolf

In light of the soul-crushing nature of the previous post, I offer this:



Meet Chad Vader, the underachieving younger brother of Darth Vader.

girl, there's a better life for me and you

Warning! This post contains a bitter discussion concerning the state of the humanities. If you are a humanities graduate student, reading this may be harmful to your thesis, self-esteem, and will to live.

Today's soundtrack:
"We Gotta Get Out of This Place" by the Animals

It happened again. I was waiting in the Nanaimo Airport for my flight back here and, in usual gawker stalker fashion, was peaking at what other people were reading. In front of me, The Da Vinci Code in the hands of a completely engrossed reader. Sigh. I look to my side, notice the man beside me reading a book, and then I see it. The Kite Runner. Again.

Clearly you people aren't paying attention.

Fine. See if I care. Go ahead. Read it. You know you want to see what all the fuss is about. So go on. Read it. I dare you.

Should I just be happy that people are reading? Well, I suppose so. As I was explaining to New Office Guy (or, NOG), the devaluation of the humanities began with the Space Race (sorry, Mom). The States pumped huge resources into the development of science and math in public schools, thereby reducing the funding available to the humanities at elementary, secondary, undergraduate and graduate school levels. Yes, there was a time when telling someone that you were doing a Masters in English wouldn't result in a half hour lecture about how you're wasting your life, that you should really get a real job, and that no one likes English anyway.

But I'm tired of defending my decision to spend 3 years of my life on a thesis that only 6 people will ever read (including my committee). Why should I have to defend the importance of learning and understanding the language that the majority of Canadians speak? I learned math, science, and everything else they crammed down my throat. Without complaint. Well... maybe not completely without complaint. I do not, however, question the usefulness of understanding basic math or science. I run into both every day in my life. Why, then, do people insist on questioning the usefulness of English?

So in an attempt to prove borderline literacy, they pick up The Kite Runner. Well, I won't condemn them for that. They picked up a book. Give them a medal. But extolling the virtues of a book that is so badly written is plain unforgiveable. Where is the desire for literacy awareness? Not that everyone in the world should read Joyce, but why not the classics? Why not something a little challenging?

The only answer is for society to turn this lopsided approach to education around. I'm preaching to the choir here, I know. In fact, I'm preaching to the very angsty (yes, angsty), hopeless, depressed grad student populace that, in reading this, finds itself now curled up in the fetal position, whimpering and wondering why they didn't listen to their Grade 8 science teacher and become a doctor. I apologise.

Without Miguelito here, the delicate balance of science and humanities has been disturbed. I shall attempt to restore the balance with chocolate. Mm.. chocolate.

i'm not here!

Today's soundtrack:
The Four Seasons by Vivaldi

Just passing through. Will be posting in the next couple of days from the 'Mo. Yes, for those keeping score, I'll be gracing you all with my divine presence this Thanksgiving. In the meantime, I must share this.

Communist knitters. It's so damned cool I can't think of anything else to write.

this is also not a post

While walking to the university today, I decided that Kayne West's "Gold Digger" is really a modern interpretation of Jane Austen's theory of marriage. Kayne's call that "we want pre nup! We want pre nup!" echoes Austen's own concerns of mercenary marriages.

I think there's a conference paper in that.

N.B. - This is what 3 hours of sleep after an all-night thesis-a-thon sounds like.

this is not a post

Today's soundtrack:
The Thesis SkipMix

In honour of the completion of 47 pages of my thesis...

35 pages to go.

call it an incubation period

Today's soundtrack:
If It Was You by Tegan and Sara

That's all. I'm done with procrastination. Really, I mean it this time. I have six weeks to finish this thesis. I will finish this thing. I will show Jane Austen who's boss. I will make Judith Butler my bitch.

Well, that was rather unEdwardian.

As I reach for my fan and smelling salts (the prospect of work plays havoc with my delicate constitution), I leave you, my faithful readers, with this bit of inspiring Englishness.



May this tide you over until such time as my spirit is fully restored and my body is freed from the bonds of unholy thesisity.

and now for something completely different

Today's soundtrack:
Carrera Corta SkipMix

¡Oye, mis amigos españoles (y sudamericanos y canadienses)! Lindellio acaba de enviarme este. Ah... me encanta Shakira...

how to be an edwardian lady during inclement weather

Today's soundtrack:
Mi Sangre de Juanes

I awoke last night to lights flashing in my room and cracking thunder overhead. After my anger at the weather gods had subsided, I realised that my dear readers still don't know how to behave during such an ordeal.

1) Have a fan close. And smelling salts. You may need to use both together when the noise becomes simply too much for your delicate constitution.

2) Ensure that the current object of your affection is near enough to be within safe fainting distance. Although you may not truly faint due to the shock of the storm, but feigning fainting will be enough to keep his attention on you, rather than the storm or that dusty strumpet.

Vale. Ahora un poco mas en español. Pues, mi español es terrible (terrible, terrible), pero pienso que es un poco mejor que antes. Cada día, estaba leyendo El País. Pues, las vinetas El País. Hoy, he encontrado este:


Exactamente.

another post about the vile vileness of the kite runner

Today's soundtrack:
Mi Sangre de Juanes

Well, in an effort to prolong today's procrastination efforts (which takes a surprising amount of energy) I offer this piece of literary blasphemy.

A few weeks ago, I spotted a woman reading Hosseini's cliche-ridden, hodge-podge of everything sensational and Oprah-esque. She was sitting on a bench by the River, blissfully unaware of the irreparable damage she was doing to her brain in subjecting herself to such tripe. Yes, tripe. I had the idea that if I threw the book into the River, I could save her the years of mental anguish that inevitably accompanies such horrific experiences (myself, I am still tramatized by Exorcist II), but then how will she ever learn?!

Well, in an effort to save some of you (let's call you "the chosen few", as "the chosen people" has been taken, and I don't think it's going to be free anytime soon) please, for the love of all that is well-written, eloquent, and original, do not read this book! I don't care what Allende says! I beg you, oh noble book-clubbers, to tuck in with anything - ANYTHING - but The Kite Runner.

"i am part of all that i have met"

Today's soundtrack:
Politick SkipMix

I finished Ulysses yesterday. I can't say that it was enjoyable. Well, in parts. Bloom's wanderings and inner dialogue was rich. The characters were incredible. But Joyce made me work. During my summer. When I'm supposed to be working on my thesis. Well, if he's going to be like that, I'll just leave Finnegans Wake off for another year.

The last section gave me the most trouble. No punctuation. Nothing. Just Molly's stream of consciousness. There were some brilliant moments, such as "why cant you kiss a man without going and marrying him first you sometimes love to wildly when you feel that way so nice all over you you cant help yourself I wish some man or other would take me sometime when hes there and kiss me in his arms theres nothing like a kiss long and hot down to your soul that almost paralyses you...". But, as the notes point out in the back, "Molly's monologue is a compendium of old-fashioned sexist clichés about the incurable self-contradictions of womanhood" (1184). While Joyce maybe have been bang-on about the inner monologue of Bloom, he was way off on Molly.

This disappointed me. Slightly. After all, how disappointed can someone be after reading Ulysses? I had already planned to follow Joyce with Atwood's The Penelopiad. In hindsight, I probably should have started this summer with Homer's Odyssey. Regardless, I managed to read it in a day. After the fragmentation and the jarring of Joyce, I felt as though I was one of those insubstantial shades milling about Hades, listening to Penelope. Just wafting back and forth. And my soul felt better after reading it. The life of Penelope, from Penelope's point of view, allowed me to superimpose Atwood's brillance on Joyce's less-than-perfect rendering of Molly, making the final chapter of Ulysses easier to bear. At least someone gets it, I thought to myself.

If you've not read it, read it. If only for Atwood's ability to rip the academic community a new one. I fear accidentally meeting this woman. She's not a gorgon or anything of that sort, but that biting wit and sarcasm would leave me like the twelve maidens - my feet twitching in the air.

But now, it's onto Mrs. Dalloway, who has been oh so patient with me as she waits on that London street.

needing a respite

Today's soundtrack:
If It Was You by Tegan and Sara
"i quietly wait" by Barry Pellett

After coffee with the Gang this afternoon, I got to thinking about something Daniela mentioned. I really do wonder what it will take to get Canadians off their butts and angry about what's going on in the Middle East. Ah, "Middle East". Sorry Mr. Said, but no time for Orientalism right now. If Israel's "accidental" (yes those scare quotes are deliberate Olmert, so take that!) bombing of the UN Observer Post didn't illustrate the absolute reckless destruction the Israelis are inflicting upon Lebanon, then I just don't know what does. It's the UN, for christsakes! We know they're completely impotent without US backing, but damnit man! How about some respect for the international body that created Israel in the first place (well, since the Diaspora)?

In an effort to quell my delicate nerves, I've been listening to Barry's new songs. I'm glad there are no references to vomit, beds, or vomity beds. If such a reference should ever occur, I damn well better get a mention in the liner notes.

The hubbub is starting about Iran all over the place. So much for my respite.