Lost cat

So, once upon a time I answered the phone and a person on the other end told me she had found my cat. I hadn't been aware that she was missing so I asked her where she found the cat. She replied that it was wandering around the park.

I wandered over to the window and looked out across the lawn and into the park. A couple was standing in the middle of the grass and they were holding Frick. I thanked the woman for her concern and asked her to put the cat down.

I think they were confused, because they didn't let the cat go. I assured them that it was alright, and that the cat knew the way home. They really weren't expecting that at all.

Finally Frick struggled her way out of the man's grasp and stalked home.

Poor people. They were just trying to be nice.

Ye olde waste audit.

Reasons why you should take sustainable community development at SFU:
- the people you meet are really cool
- the projects are really cool
- you get to save the world, which is also really cool

We're working on a bunch of different group projects right now. My group has been asked by facilities management to make recommendations about ways that SFU can reduce its solid waste.

We decided to do a waste audit to see what exactly we are dealing with, and I suggested that maybe we should make it a public thing. The rest of the group jumped on that so we got permission and then dumped a bunch of garbage in the middle of the convomall at SFU.

Personally I'm pretty glad that we did that because lots and lots of people approached us to ask what we were doing, or to tell us we were really cool. Who would have thought that digging through garbage could be so fun?

But now we have to find a way of convincing people to bring their own coffee mugs to school, because as you can see from the picture, there were a lot. Far too many.

More (north)American sentences

(north)American sentences for the past week or so:

Take out sushi comes in plastic bags, perfect size for bathroom garbage.

Good night Marcuse, I've had enough alienation for today.

The fog squats defiant; it will be noon before we see the ocean.

The second dinner wasn't needed but I needed the company.

Eating olives is more expedient than picking them out of food.

Only person to touch me today: down syndrome woman with warm coat.

Leak in my shoe would not have bothered me if bus had not broken down.

I check my email eagerly anticipating what's not coming.

A bit of an explanation here.

Winds of change

My dad once told me about one of his teachers in elementary school. Grade four, maybe. Her name was Mrs. Swaghoffer, she spoke with a harsh, German accent and her arms were always folded underneath a pair of enormous breasts. While he was in her class he secretly feared that one day while she was standing over his desk looking at his work, she would uncross her arms and he would be crushed to death under her enormous bosom.

I don't know why I remember this now. I just do.

The cadets are marching to a drum and uninspired band music just outside my window. For a while I thought they'd be cooler if they had syncopated beats or something, but Adorno and Horkheimer have wrecked jazz for me.

I have not adjusted to daylight savings time at all. I'm convinced it's an American conspiracy to make it more dangerous for me to get home after school. It takes the light away from the time when I have to dodge cars to cross the street at poorly lit intersections and puts it when I am either asleep or studying at home. It means that I suddenly can't go for runs in the evenings because the forest is dark. I'm not convinced that it saves energy either. It just leaves me tired.

The eggy scent of sulphur is hanging on the air tonight. I don't know why it's so much more noticeable today than it is any other day. I noticed the other day that the Downtown East Side smelled unusually fishy as I was bussing through. The smell comes from the canneries at the docks, but most days you don't smell it in that area. Maybe the air is moving differently.

Winds of change, only different.

A year ago today: Showering 8:15

Everything is always hiding in the couch.

I'm writing a paper on meta-silence and another on a Frankfurt School reading of the movie Waydowntown. I'm starting to have fun with them because I don't have anything due for more than a week. In fact, with the holiday I don't really have many classes next week either. Life is good.

Somehow I ended up staying up a lot later than I should have last night and add that to paper-related sleep deprivation from the weekend and now I'm completely dopey.

I ran down to the library to get a book today and couldn't find it on the shelf. I went back to the computer to see if maybe I'd gotten the call number wrong. I combed the shelf to see if maybe it had just been reshelved in the wrong place. I ended up back at one of the computers to check if it was signed out and it was.

Somehow I forgot to place a hold on the book which is just as well because when got home tonight, I found it in my couch. I don't know when I signed it out.

And then I wonder why people tell me I'm airheaded sometimes.

I'll try to get some sleep so I'll be able to do better than crappy pictures of my cats and talk about school.

I'm getting spinsterly in my old age

My dad was working late tonight so he called me to see if I wanted to go out and get a salad or something because he seems to have something against my cooking. The doctor's put him on a crazy restrictive diet so our options were pretty narrow but we managed to find a place.

And it suddenly comes out over dinner that my mom secretly thinks that I'm going to die old and alone and my dad thinks I'm probably getting too comfortable living alone in a penthouse. And what am I going to do for the rest of my life? And do I have any plans? And what about this Tom guy?

Well, obviously they don't read my blog because I've already written out the reasons I'm not your girlfriend, but mostly it comes down to me being perpetually uncool and perpetually not interested in anyone. The world is full of a lot of people who make perfectly fine friends or acquaintances, but not very many that I genuinely feel are worth my time. So it's just as well that I get zero attention. (That is, if you don't count this guy, but I'd rather not have him count.)

I maintain what I've always said. I really wouldn't mind being a brain in a jar, especially if they could feed me with some sort of cheese flavoured nutrient water. Preferably oka, but a good sharp cheddar would suffice.

If not that then maybe a tenured position at some university somewhere. I want my own office with so many stacked books it's hazardous, a thick wool rug and ivy on the windows so that I can refuse to retire and expire over one of my books one day, only to be discovered a week or two later.

My other name is Tato.

I have been writing the paper from hell. I just keep working and working at it and it doesn't seem to get any longer or more coherent. Luckily I have good help, as you can see above.

"Steve, get out of the shower. Abby needs to use the bathroom."

"What? Gazemi needs to use the bathroom?"

"Khezemi is her Arab name. Abby needs to use the bathroom."

"Abby, he just called you Khezemi."

"That sounds like a magician name."

"Not like your warrior's name, which is Fergus."

Sometimes my mom calls me Angus. That's when she's not calling me Auswyn. This randomness is why I come home on the weekend.

My sister's starting to call herself that now. I might have to stop calling her Du.

In other news, someone took all the mp3's from my computer when I wasn't looking and is using them for tv commercials. They're all there. I'm such a trendsetter.

And that's my day

I woke up and then I worked on papers. And then I baked some muffins and worked on papers. Then I made some cauliflower and leek soup and worked on papers. Got to take breaks here and there.

Around sixish mom called me and asked if I wanted to go for dinner. She had found the perfect place. They have authentic Swedish food. It's called Ikea.

I never got my dinner though, because about half an hour later, my sister called and said that she was stranded somewhere because my parents were stranded elsewhere with a flat tire. I ate soup instead.

My sister arrived out of nowhere to watch tv. She has some sort of inflamed thingie in her stomach/abdomen area that came from being hugged too hard or falling over, so she needs a pillow to lay on the floor.

Did I tell you a daschund tried to bite my leg off yesterday? I was walking by it and then it started growling and running after me. I outran it, but it was vicious. That's why we call them viciouses around these parts.

Or maybe only I do.

I'm home, writing papers.

This is an important update. The umbrella tree that I repotted a month or so ago has sprouted five new leaves in quick succession. Just after I repotted it it looked a little unhealthy but it must be happy now.

I came across this recipe for rhubarb cake and it reminds me of something my mom always made, so I'm making it minus the salt and with cinnamon instead of the orange zest. My version also has whole wheat flour instead of white because at the moment that's all I have and fibre is my friend, and so are B vitamins.



It's in the oven right now and I can smell it. It will be consumed warm with large volumes of whipped cream, Habermas, Gadamer and Marx. Ah, papers.

Somebody once said that I do a good job of making the mundane interesting. I hope this is one of those days.

Hi.

Here's the thing.

The only thing I did today that is remotely interesting is I ended up at the pub before class because it was a student union thing and I never pass up free alcohol. Because I was going to class, I didn't drink very much but what I did have went straight to my head.

I blame it on being kind of dehydrated because I probably haven't been getting enough to drink lately. I've been low on milk for a week and I'm too lazy to take an hour out of my day to walk to the store. It's not the walking, really. It's just that it's been kind of chilly out and I don't want to hold a cold jug of milk and freeze my fingers off.

And since I don't like the way the water tastes in my apartment, I drink a lot of tea so a lack of milk means a reduction in tea...

I make this way too hard for myself.

The other two reasons are that I'm still not as used to weighing less than I used to as I'd like to think, and that last night my dad arrived out of nowhere and took me out for dinner. I wasn't thinking at all when I ordered a salad and ate it. It had spinach in it, and as I've said before for some reason or other over the past year I've suddenly developed some sort of intolerance to raw spinach. Cooked is fine, but the raw stuff works like drano on me.

Needless to say I was a little out of it by the time I got to class, but not too bad, because I was also full of yam fries and that spicy mayonnaise dip stuff. Whoever invented such things is my hero.