I draw pictures sometimes

I have been putting some thought into what I should be for Halloween. It's pretty hard not to, when Haloween decorations have been in stores for what feels like forever already.

I remember there was one year when everyone I knew went as something dead. Dead man. Dead prom date. Dead French maid. Dead cheerleader. Dead doctor. I was impressed by their overwhelming originality.

Me? I try to be a little creative. Doesn't always work out but I try. In the past I've been a Roman woman, the Madonna of the Rocks, a supreme court lawyer, and the kind of old lady that pinches your cheeks. Last year I got lazy and wore a hideous dress without any explanation whatsoever.

I figure this year I could go as a Greek statue. I'd paint my skin white and walk around naked. Wouldn't be that difficult to do, and I'd definitely get points for originality.

My other idea is that I could go as the spirit of Sir John A. MacDonald. I wouldn't have to look like him, really. I'd just have to down a mickey of whiskey and vomit on the floor of Parliament, declaring that Liberals make me sick. Then I'd found the country and build one big-assed railway. Then, to keep things accurate, I'd pass out.

What do you think?

Dalai Lama visit

The little Tibetan kid who played traditional songs on the guitar-like instrument while dancing around was absolutely awesome. The little rockstar got quite a bit of applause.

After he and the rest of the ensemble had finished, Kevin Newman said he was pleased to announce His Holiness, the Dalai Lama. There was a standing ovation, and then nothing.

Everyone stood there in silence, waiting for something to happen, but nothing did. Then all of a sudden someone began to sing the only song we all knew: O Canada. By the end, nearly everyone was singing. I wish I could say it was monumental, or something but it wasn't really. We were just killing time.

Kevin disappeared backstage for a few minutes, then returned for introduction attempt number two. This time it worked and His Holiness took the stage much as he did last time he came to Vancouver, only this time as a Canadian citizen.

His message doesn't change much. You have to be the change you want to see in the world. Care, compassion, kindness, tolerance. Doesn't get much more complicated than that, but people can't seem to keep things simple, can they?

It's always interesting to see the cross section of people at these things. You've got the old and the young, the educated, the students, activists, the holy, the exiled, the curious. Oh, and the guys that my mother refers to as "crystal-packing mamas". I don't think I need to say more about that.

Amateur anthropology

Instead of us bringing housewarming gifts to her, somehow or other Gina ended up unloading a great deal of her collection of stale, holiday-themed candy on us.

Standing at the bus stop with a large stack of last year's advent calendars, we had no choice but to choose an unsuspecting victim. The poor unfortunate soul was waiting for the same bus as us. He was a tad grubby around the edges, with a tad more than a five-o-clock shadow. "This is for you," Andy said, handing him an advent calendar.

The guy looked puzzled, so he had to explain what it was. "How much do I pay you?" the man asked, in some sort of accent. "It's free," Andy explained, "I'm giving it to you." The man perked up at this revelation and began to shake Andy's hand vigorously.

Ah yes, The Gift. Marcel Mauss. Essai sur le don. Forme et raison de l'échange dans les sociétés archaïques, 1923. So much can be accomplished by so little, a simple exchange of goods.

The man soon went back to looking just as uncomfortable around us dumbasses as he had before.

Nothing sobers you up better than the long bus ride home.

The ninja turtles

These guys practice some sort of martial arts on the lawn below my window, twice a week, rain or shine during all seasons of the year. The number is always changing, but there is always a minimum of four, and occasionally a woman in the mix. They wear those cool ninja shoes that separate your big toe from the rest and they fight with each other in very slow motion.

They spend a lot of time finding new, creative ways to fall on the ground or flip over each other. I wish I had a picture of that instead to show you.

We call them the ninja turtles.

First day of school

My stats prof sounds like a nice enough guy, but as far as the most boring people I've ever met, he's duelling for third, or so. I have to give him credit, though. At least he tries.

He made a sad attempt at a joke about how we should keep our phones on vibrate, and not bring vibrators to school because if you talk into them, no one will answer. The people in the room sat silent, wondering whether or not to laugh.

He then proceeded to explain what made a good calculator. "It needs these buttons," he said, as everyone picked up their pens to copy it down. He began to write the numbers 0-9 and +-x on the overhead projector as people began to giggle. The long and short? The million dollar calculator that I had to buy for a lousy three months of math 11 is too cool for school. Literally.

His lecture slides are all acompanied by sound effects when they change. Unless your prof has actual skill making presentations, this is at best really corny. When he flipped to a slide with a picture of a scientist, some music began to play which sounded much like the cheezy cliche aliens-are-landing kind of music. And it played, and played and played. It went on and on for what felt like at least a minute, far longer than any lecture note sound effect should.

At some point my suppressed laughter came out as a snort, and unfortunately for the back of the head in front of me, I had a bit of a runny nose at the time.

Nonchalant, I put my hand up to my face and leaned over to the person next to me. "Non-stop excitement, eh?" I think I said. Yeah, I'm cool.

Random

Alison just called. She's back from her tour of world domination to take stats with me. Halelujah.

Someone just arrived at my site by searching for "where can i buy testicles from a bull?" My answer to that is that it is likely that the number of bulls willing to give up their testicles freely and willingly for any amount of money is probably pretty low. It's a guy thing. However, I'm told that they rather enjoy castrating cattle in Alberta, so that's where I'd look. It kind of puts a middleman into things, but meh.

I think I may have found the source of the fruit flies in my apartment. I figure it'll take a day or two for me to know for sure.

I'm out of milk, and have been for a week. Hopefully putting that in here will remind me to get off my lazy ass and buy some more.

I have to work early tomorrow morning before school. I don't know why I agreed to that. Sometimes I'm too altruistic for my own good. Must go to bed now.

Or now.

Now.

Good night.

Fallow

I was thinking last night just before I went to bed about the word fallow. In agriculture fallow is a good thing. If you take a field and leave it to its own devices for a year, choosing not to plant it, it's supposed to be good for the soil. The soil is less likely to become exhausted and it is less likely to harbour both pests and crop disease. Fallow is a good thing.

But not for people. If you stop using your body, stop exercising, your muscles will atrophy. You lose your stamina, flexibility and health. If you stop using your brain it atrophies as well. Little bits of your memory go and you begin to have difficulty connecting certain concepts that you used to not have trouble with.

The only really good thing about lying fallow is that the word implies a latent creativity somewhere. Some sort of good things yet to happen, lying under the surface. Good things to come, but only for the dirt.

I think about these things at night sometimes. Too bad that it means I usually can't sleep.

Yesterday

Instead of sending me pictures from the show, my sister sent me a picture of me and this horse. Beggars can't be choosers. I'm sure that at some point she'll post some pictures on her blog, which is fine.

They look like concert pictures: some guys on stage with instruments and fancy lights, fog machines and love projected in their general direction. Only the some guys were Great Big Sea. Great Big Sea plays good concerts, better than their albums. There's always lots of jumping up and down, clapping and singing along, and the discussion of nude badminton as a recreational activity with some rather adorable Newfie accents. Accordions. The sexies bodhran player in the world. You know. That stuff.

They were good. It was fun, but I can't help thinking that they seemed a little tired last night. They had a lot of energy, but not quite the amount that they usually have. Slightly shorter set, too. I hope it was just a one-off thing and not a permanent change.

To my surprise and dismay, the opening act was the exact same guy as last time they played Malkin Bowl, only he looked less homeless. The music was the same though, and I didn't like it much the first time. I can only take so much acoustic country rap and the first time was more than enough.

Apparently my camera is a "professional" camera. Don't I feel special? That meant a big fight at the gate to get in. In all the times I've been to the Malkin Bowl, that is the first time that they have been so anal about confiscating crap from people. The nice thing about the Malkin Bowl is that you've always been able to take your camera and food and umbrellas with you, but apparently no longer. It would have been nice if there had been a head's up on the website when everyone bought their tickets.

This was the first time I'd ever had problems of that nature at that particular venue, though, to be fair, the last time I saw a show there my bag contained my wallet, a couple tampons and a sea urchin. Don't ask.

To say dinner was a disappointment would be an understatement. The restaurant at the Stanley Park Pavilion is obviously under new management and I already complained about it on Metro Vancouver. Did I tell you that I wrote for Metro Vancouver? I'm a bigger geek than you thought.

That was yesterday. Today I didn't do much worth mentioning. Some days are like that.

Fuck, that was a lukewarm post. I enjoyed myself yesterday, honestly.

Check out Wildlife. It's pretty cool.

Lucy is awesome

Trigger

I was at the intersection of Dunsmuir and Hornby when all of a sudden a bit of history stared me in the face. Well, not really in the face. She was across the street, facing me, waiting to cross in the opposite direction I was. I crossed the street in the other direction, even though it was out of my way, just to avoid her.

She used to wait for times when I'd be alone. There was one hallway that people rarely went in our school, because that was where Mrs. Stevens had her special class for the behavioural kids. I used to cut through there sometimes at lunch because it was a shorter way to the playground. She'd find me, grab me and slam me into a wall, usually into a radiator, so I'd be off balance. She'd get angry because I didn't ever come over to play. She'd slam me into the wall another couple of times, then she'd start to choke me and she wouldn't let go until I promised to go over to her house.

But the worst part was her breath. She used to put her nose almost right up to mine while she was talking and breathe in my face. She had a breath that could kill a horse. I could stand being beaten up but her bad breath was enough to break me. I'd give in every time just to get her to stop breathing on me, though I never ever went over to play.

But I knew that the worst was always yet to come, because as soon as I consented to a playdate, she would smile and her tone would become disgustingly saccarine. And before releasing me, she'd give me a big sloppy wet kiss.

I would feel really dirty for the rest of the day.

I wouldn't bother telling any of the teachers because I knew that because she had a disability, she could do no wrong, and wasn't really responsible for anything that she did. And besides, who wants to admit that they get beaten up regularly by a retard?

And none of this I remembered until I saw her on the street. Kind of makes you wonder if I've blocked anything else out over the years, eh?