Snarkfish Inc.

to j.d. or not to j.d.

2011-10-14T17:17:00.001-07:00

I have been thinking a lot lately about whether I want to do more schooling. I bought the rather fat (and expensive) LSAT study book and felt like a real grownup for about 20 minutes.

Then I got that sinking feeling that with every major decision in life where something is gained, there are 10 alternatives that are forever hanging there unchosen. I really should never have taken introductory Economics.

The notion of opportunity cost is enough to drive a person batty.

I do not want my life to happen to me. I like the idea of being certainly not completely in control, but a figure with some agency in my own existence. But what if I am unqualified to make these decisions. Seriously.

Lately I wish that I had a very sage ouija board to instruct me in my life. It might bring about some kind of sucky result, but at least then it wouldn't be my fault.

Sleepy saturday

2011-10-01T10:38:00.000-07:00

Ah my poor little neglected blog. It always waits for me to come back to it like a faithful pet.

Today I woke up (after a 9 hour sleep), made a cup of hot chocolate, and read a book that interviewed Cary Grant. I lazily flicked through a couple of my favourite news sources and blogs, then made breakfast. All while a soft drizzle came down outside.

There is something utterly delicious about spending a weekend day doing nothing other than revelling in one's own delights.

So the reason for the lack of blogging? After the seemingly endless slog through my degree, my summer months and subsequent move have been very happy times. And it would seem that general contentment does not lend itself to bloggish contemplation as much as academic angst does.

But don't worry, little blog. I went out the other day and bought an LSAT prep book; I'll sit the December writing and hopefully not embarrass myself. So with any luck I'll be back at it in no time.

dichotomizing grumpiness

2011-04-03T17:37:00.000-07:00

I have honestly come to the conclusion that for all the problems that life unceremoniously catapults into my life, there are only two solutions.

They are as follows:

1. Radiohead.

2. Foo Fighters

When my brain is completely drained and devoid of all sentient thought: Foo Fighters.

When I feel that there is just too much cruelty and sadness in the world: Radiohead (reckoner in particular)

When my roommate is cranking Cher songs: Foo Fighters.

When the only break in my day is the time to fold laundry: Radiohead.

And so it goes. Ratatat breaks in there on the odd occasion when I can no longer tolerate words.

Problems aren't really solved this way...but at least they're endured.

ode to comforts

2011-03-30T11:38:00.000-07:00

To the little twin bed in my cubicle of an apartment bedroom, Tetley black tea, and the wonderful array of Tylenol Cold products:

Do you know how much I love you? Because trust me when I say that you are my dream team. These last couple of days were rough and you saw me through.

It all started when I was mentally gloating over my good fortune of not getting miserably ill this year. And naturally, someone up there thought it good form and SMOTE me for over-confidence.

Some people made fun of me for my newly acquired androgynous muppet voice (including a prof). But buddy tetley is always there to soothe the injury.

When I had two twelve page papers due in two days and couldn't go to the library for fear of getting beaten up by the silence-obsessed study freaks, little bed invited me to work from home and with a magic bag no less.

And although the fabulous drugs in the tylenol capsules made me kooky enough to write without prepositions and to turn all my "the"s to "he"s, they were waiting for me after I handed in that last assignment, open for mental depletion for healing's sake at last.

All this to say one simple thing: much as it does suck to feel like you ate some barbed wire with your morning cheerios, it is nice to appreciate the many crutches that help me get through my (sometimes unaccountably sucky) existence.

I love blankies. I love hot drinks. I love naps after meeting deadlines. And I am not ashamed.

breaking up is hard to do

2011-03-19T11:48:00.000-07:00

Dear Mr. Microsoft Word Spellchecker,

We need to talk...about our relationship.

This just hasn't been working out for me lately. We've been collaborating for a long time and there have been some great times. There was the 98 paper of 2010, the Copy Editing days of '09, and I have really appreciated you.

But the fact is MWS, you have been trying to undermine what I'm doing ever since we met. I was out there looking for a nice Canadian English type, but it wasn't available and I found you instead.

I hate that you try to call me Jesse. I know you think it's funny, but it annoys. You get annoyed and threatened when I cite other people. You talk down to me too. Telling me that I don't know how to use a semi colon, or identify a fragment is just insulting. You're all high and mighty and I hate to say it, but I really know more about grammar and syntax than you. The truth hurts, I know.

I try to compromise over our differences, But I can only 'Ignore All' your attempts to remove the u's from colour and behaviour. It seems like a small thing, but it grates on me. You just always want me to change for you. First you want my u's, but what's it going to be next? Are you going to attack my healthcare system? Or my constitutional monarchy? I will not stand for it. I WILL NOT STAND FOR IT.

And another thing: sometimes I must write in French. That is what we do in Canada. You might as well get used to it. I can see you trying to undermine my special characters, don't think I don't notice. Have a little respect.

Now I know that we still have responsibilities together. That paper has to go to Dr. MacLean by the end of the month. And the Xaverian still needs two more columns. I recognize that at this point we'd best stick it out for them.

But I just want you to know that when that's all dealt with, WE ARE SO OVER.

Yours,

Jessi (with an i)

ailed by repetition

2011-03-16T11:46:00.000-07:00

This song has been mercilessly stuck in my head for at least 5 days. Instead of searching our a cure, I spread the disease.

As a sidenote, the video calls to mind all of the baby hipsters hanging out in the campus radio station that I walk by on my way into the newsroom. Oh university.

George and Judi

2011-03-07T12:38:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is International Women's Day.

The theme of our paper this week is women's issues. In my readings on the subject I stumbled across this video.

It combines my love for George with the feminism that inevitably results following an Arts degree. Pure gold. Enjoy.

ok so maybe it wasn't all cupcakes and rainbows...

2011-02-23T15:31:00.000-08:00

We human types, I feel tend to regulate our own negativity very heavily. When we're in the midst of a quest, saga, or otherwise very daunting task, we don't let ourselves think about how hard it is or it might just overwhelm us.

For example, it is only near the end of my run that I allow myself to feel winded. I tell myself that I was more out of shape last time than this time; psychology would call this temporal self-appraisal theory. It's good because in this way we can convince ourselves that the moment we're in is somehow easier or enhanced in comparison with what came before.

But when I near completion of something (a degree for example), part of the delight is in acknowledging all of the overwhelming suckitude that I was suppressing before and in turn realizing that it is soon to be over.

It's been a good four years, but some of it really and truly sucked. And so in the aim of celebrating suckitudes passed, here's another jaunty list for your perusal.

The five most torturous, boring, and waste of ink books I read while in university:

1. What Maisie Knew - Henry James

This is one of those novels about consciousness where you get one line of dialogue followed by 50 pages of speculation and introspection. I still don't know what it is that Maisie knew, and nor do I care.

2. Wuthering Heights - Emily Bronte

I don't know that I've ever hated a book this universally lauded. The moral seems to be that everyone is a jerk. If by chance you run into a non-jerk, don't get too attached because that person will get worked over by one of the jerks and become so upset that his or her heart will stop with despair. It was crap.

3. On the Road - Jack Kerouac

I was totally expecting some sort of mind blowing, transcendent road trip of self-actualization. It's really a couple of dudes who wish to be drunk and aimless and chase women. There is no higher meaning, just a trip to Mexico and some crazy ass hipsters. I SO do not need anymore insight into the psyche of twenty something males, but thanks Jack.

4. The Handmaid's Tale - Margaret Atwood

I know that all Canadians are supposed to bow before Atwood our literary leader...but I just don't buy it. There's a dystopic future where women are valued only for babymaking. But why? How did this happen? All filler no thriller if you ask me.

5. Daniel Deronda - George Eliot

betterbooktitles.com calls this one "800 pages to find out that one dude is Jewish." Couldn't have said it better myself.

Here's to drinking tea, learning what we like, and mercilessly throwing out all the rest.

heartbreak

2011-02-14T12:55:00.000-08:00

I am very upset.

I was supposed to have a date today with my boyfriend, Global Warming, but as always he never shows up when I want him (now), and always shows up when I don't (42-degree July heat).

This guy is a true heartbreaker; I'm sure I wasn't the only one waiting on his appearance to melt my icy heart. But instead, I'll just keep wading through the waist deep. What's a girl to do?

Happy Valentine's Day.

Enjoyable stumbles

2011-02-12T14:50:00.001-08:00

I have an addiction.

Despite being more or less neutral to alcohol and disgusted by hard drugs of the conventional variety, I've been pulled in. It's called stumbleupon. A while back a friend introduced me to this truly excellent time waster. I know, I know, the rest of the world probably discovered this years ago. But I'm hooked. I just click the stumble button and it brings another unexpected internet gem of delightful dweebdom.

And so in honour of the little addictions that don't ruin our lives, but actually make them more fun (like Mom's spiced pear jam and torturing my siblings) here are the best stumbles so far.

1. This site boasts free ebooks in multiple languages. You can start to read a book in a language that you're somewhat familiar with and if you don't understand a word, you double click it and a small translation bubble appears. As someone who has looked up her fair share of French words, this is sweet.

2. A map of the best movies of all time.

This is kind of amazing if you just picture what kind of person must have constructed it. Such delightful uselessness.

3. Not that I'm a big jello shot fan or anything, but the idea of having them masquerade as lemon slices is just so clever.

4. If ever it were possible to convince me that it was unnecessary to actually possess copies of songs, this site would do it. It's awesome for discovering stuff for any mood. Love love love (but don't worry ipod, I still love you).

5. Disguises. Even the word disguises is delicious. If you disagree with me, your inner child is dead.

6. Because making sounds is fun.

7. I haven't made this yet, but sometime soon.

8. I vow to someday have all of these in my house.

9. If I had an age 11 to 30 out of body experience like in 'Big,' I would put these in my house instead of the trampoline and bunk beds.

10. This is dorkofabulous. When I get my camera, I'm going to kick the sun. How badass does that sound?

whoa horsey

2011-01-28T07:56:00.000-08:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about the times when I was younger and we used to go trail riding. There was a great place near Christina Lake that had very gentle horses and nice views.

But every time as we came back from a long ride and the horses could see the barn, they would completely lose it. No more lazily eating the grass or nudging and shuffling around each other. When they saw home, they dropped everything and ran for the water.

The reason that I've been thinking about this is not just the fond memories (though it was quite nice). It's that as I near the end of my degree, I feel that the horses are my brain and the barn is BC. Try as I may to jump through the usual hoops of library visits, I often end of sitting, mouth agape, and thinking of all the things that I will be free to do next year.

I am still getting the work done, but no more stopping to eat the grass. My brain is a broken record insisting constantly on the "Are we there yet?" sort of mentality. Either that or rebelling against the usual routine by refusing to do anything but download old Rilo Kiley albums. Sighh I AM SO CLOSE I JUST WANT MY OATS AND WATER NOW.

alors on danse

2011-01-19T16:00:00.000-08:00

Despite (or maybe even spurred on by) the occasional mockery about my adherence to listmaking, I have decided to list my favourite things about Montreal. HA.

- the conference that I went to was honestly a golden oasis for the nerdy and for the hipsterish. The MC of the weekend was your archetypal dork (in a good way). At dinner one night a friend of his decided to tweet "every time we clink our glasses wedding style, (insert name of dork) has to kiss a different person." And the fascinating thing was that so many of these uber-journalism nerds were following the twitter feed on their smart phones that it actually happened. Buddy probably never got kissed so much in his life!! Funny? Yes. Scary? Indubitably.

- the bars in Montreal had a lot of personality and were generally far more interesting and fun than anything in Antigonish.

- Some really interesting people just happened to speak while I was in earshot. Ken Silverstein was a very interesting speaker, and I enjoyed absorbing the wisdom of Wilf Dinnick and Marie-Maude Denis as well. Fascinating to hear about the completely nonlinear way in which people's careers have progressed.

- the species of northern bilingual, cold-dwelling gentlemen in Montreal was overall quite pleasing. Or as Ferris Bueller would say, the dudes were very choice ;)

la belle province

2011-01-13T15:42:00.000-08:00

I. love. Montreal. But as I am running from St. Catherine street exploring to dinner and a keynote... I'll catch up plus tard. Thought of the day = travelling awakens the soul.

Got to have friends

2011-01-09T10:49:00.000-08:00

I have some of the best friends that a girl could ask for.

Despite big ambitious plans to post photos of my beloved Kootenay crowd, I fail. The Pictures folder on my mac has behaved like a three year old in the midst of a tantrum whenever I've tried to open it lately.

Getting back to the point though, I think that everyone on the planet deserves to keep company with at least one of the following:

-the guy that says such outrageously funny things that you choke on your beverage of choice

-the one who always asks about what's going on in your life and would never think of gossiping to everyone else

-the good natured gal who nonetheless blurts out such jems of bold insanity that he/she is universally teased for it

-the dude with a lakehouse and a boat who will mercilessly dump you into the drink if ever you get out of line

-the one with the borderline redneck vehicle that the whole group can squeeze into for a good old fashioned road trip

-the quiet girl who does something wild only at the most unexpected moment

-the guy who always tries to buy the drinks (and equally the friends who only let him do it on very special occasions)

-the one who always, always introduces you to good music that you've never heard of before

During the summer months at least, I have each of these. They make a weekend together seem like 5 minutes. May you, dear readers, have friends who keep you in line, throw you out of your comfort zone, surprise you with kindness, and fabricate the stories that you will tell (or try to supress) 20 years later.

ABC

2011-01-07T16:39:00.000-08:00

As I approach (what I hope to be) the end of my university career, the broader themes of what I have been working on have started to blessedly emerge.

It strikes me in retrospect that high school was about learning how to learn and see the world according to a standardized model. Take half pure sciences, half social sciences. Respect diversity. Notice that men go into trades or sciences, women excel at the verbal. Write structured essays containing three ideas.

In my own life at least, nothing serves to detangle the knot of standardized thinking quite like an Arts degree. In highschool we pleased the province with standardized tests. But university demands adaptation, criticism, questioning. New views were presented and debated, and the three idea model got thrown out the window.

It's only now that I see that university is still about pleasing someone else, just on a larger scale. We personalize our arguments to each field, to each professor. We are told (ok I am told) that our writing contains too much personality and that this distracts from the argument.

Call me a skeptic, but what I glean from all of this is not only the enormity of what I do not know (although I've learned that pretty thoroughly). It's also the enormity of the challenge to maintain originality within structures that demand conformity. For the rest of my life, at least some part of my time will b devoted to producing a product, whether physical or intellectual, that is tailored to someone else.

Sometimes it is very hard not to lose one's uniqueness amidst a sea of external demands. But my degree has taught me to try.

It has also taught me that I would rather rip off my right arm and beat myself over the head with it than pursue a career in academic criticism. But that as they say, is another story.

Pet peeve #416

2010-12-16T19:11:00.000-08:00

"Now a major motion picture" editions of books. Don't you just hate them?

The Sisterhood of the Travelling Pants. Ella Enchanted. The Lord of the Rings. Atonement. Odious I say. Odious. Just take a minute to let your mind absorb the true odiousness of the word odious.

If I wanted to have the faces of actors unceremoniously bastardize the residual mental image of my favourite characters then I might buy these. But as it happens, I'm always tempted to track down an original edition and put it in front of the cheapened movie edition in the store.

I'm so annoyed that I've even started watching for them in advance. Constant vigilance and all that. Water for Elephants is probably next. If I see a picture of Reese Witherspoon on the cover of this lovely book I will fully embrace my own immaturity and cover my eyes saying, "I'M NOT LOOKING."

I swear that my searing hatred for these doesn't come from some hoity toity impression that I am awesome for having read this book before other people.

Sometimes movies adapted from books can be wonderful. But the thing is, when some smart guy thinks he can sell more of the book by making it look like an extension of the movie, I feel like someone has snuffed out my imagination. When you read about Marlena, the speculation of what she is like is part of the absolute genius of the book. And when a stupid promotional picture tells me that she is some token blonde thing, all of my happy speculations get thrown into a cage.

Bottom line. Jessi a child. Jessi like make mind picture. Jessi no like when mind picture full of crap from tasteless hollywood moron. Prefer noble elephant.

Speculation

2010-12-11T12:22:00.000-08:00

After careful consideration, I have come to the conclusion that my upstairs neighbours are doing at least one of the following:

1. Re-enacting the plot of Home Alone, complete with swinging paint cans and yells of victory.

2. Chasing around a rat, or house hippo, or other unspecified household pest. Failing at attempts to knock out aforementioned pest with some sort of noisy, blunt object.

3. Playing that stupid drinking game where one must watch Goodfellas and swig idiot juice everytime expletives are spoken (accompanied by the usual stomping, goon-like, nostalgie de la boue-type behaviour).

4. Playing a rousing game of 'torture the girls downstairs who are trying to study.'

I highly suspect that it's some combination of the above. What do you think readers?

Hail and Health

2010-11-30T14:54:00.000-08:00

farewell childhood, it's been fun

2010-11-28T18:54:00.000-08:00

I have the answer to one of the world's most debated questions. People are always asking, "What marks the end of childhood?" When does a boy cease to be a boy, and a girl become a woman. Is it a certain ritual? A certain age?

WELL I'VE GOT IT.

At this point in social history (according to me), you are an adult when you can tear the Seran wrap off the roll with understated ease. Kind of anticlimactic, I know.

After years of tangling it up, stretching it, and otherwise assaulting my own dignity, I can do this. As it turns out, it's all in the wrist. But it's not specifically that moment that you're an adult. It's the moment when you realize that you tear perfectly every time, and also that you no longer care. Monotonous, leftover-centered concerns have taken over your life and overthrown the small triumphs of the past.

I may no longer be thinking "$#&!ing seran wrap," in the course of my day, but I feel that I am incurably old now. Old enough to think about my Mastercard bill and what to cook for dinner. Bitterness is sure to follow.

My precioussss

2010-11-26T05:55:00.000-08:00

There is along standing joke at StFX, that by the time the senior students get down to the bare bones of their X-Ring countdowns, they are as consumed by the thing as Gollum was by his one ring.

Today, the countdown hits one week. I have tried on my ring and can't wait to wear it everywhere. Most people I know are just excited for the giant party that goes on that night. But personally, the symbolism just gets me.

The ring is supposed to stand for everything that you did in your life over the past four years to improve yourself intellectually, ethically, and personally.

So while my classmates buy out the local liquor store, I'm thinking of that moment in my first year when I realized that Dad was really gone and I was alone in this scary foreign province. Or all the times that I had to move without a car or anyone to help me. Every awesome person I've met, and every academic paper that I thought would liquify my brain.

There have been times already when I've benefitted from going here. A few weeks ago I went to Halifax to take some aptitude tests for government jobs. The tests required a government ID, which I didn't have at the time. But the woman checking IDs was wearing an X-Ring. I struck up a conversation with her and told her I was getting my own ring in a few weeks. And needless to say I had no problems writing the test.

The whole ring network may be a little cult-like, but really all that it means is that people wearing X-Rings are interested in helping each other.

When I get mine, it will be the beginning of the end of this wonderfully trying four years. And I can't wait.

the stuff that dreams are made of

2010-11-13T16:02:00.000-08:00

Of the many lovely parts of being in the last year of my degree is the fact that I get one truly fun course. Hidden amidst the advanced literary criticisms and the intricate social psychologies is an absolute jewel. This course is film analysis.

Film analysis is one of those courses that is so popular that lower-year students never get into it; by the time they get to register it's been filled up by all those who got there first. It's kind of funny because being a 200-level course, it's not all that hard to do well in it, yet there is not a single second-year student in the class. It's full of bleary-eyed, pale-faced, thesis-writing creatures who just wanted one course that was fun and easy to pass.

Needless to say (for anyone who knows me at least), this course makes my nerdy, film-obsessed soul sing with glee from the mountaintops.

We started with North by Northwest and The Maltese Falcon. Then Citizen Kane, Apocalypse Now, and Psycho. Followed by Rules of the Game, and Breathless. Next up are Bonnie and Clyde and Taxi Driver. This class is so successful at not feeling like a class that it actually makes me drool. Sometimes it will follow a torturous hour-long discussion of some Bronte (I'm sorry but the only theme of Wuthering Heights is that everybody is a bastard given the chance, and those who aren't are such weaklings that they wither and die...big FAIL). Goes without saying that it's nice to talk about Coppola and the Doors after that.

Sometimes when you're completely fed up and ready to throw in the towel, school exhibits a much needed, shiny moment of pure awesomeness.

happy it over

2010-11-09T13:46:00.000-08:00

no like tuesday. find maggots in bag of sugar. jessi say yuck. big project due. jessi yawn. very dark outside. fall down muddy hill into muddy puddle. ow. ugga.

trying times

2010-11-08T13:08:00.000-08:00

I ate an apple and two rice cakes for dinner.

The overhead light in my bedroom has burned out, and I have no lightbulbs (and in addition, no time to get lightbulbs). I am huddled under my desk light like a sad bug under flourescents.

I forgot to bring a pen to three classes today and was consequently forced to be the one needy guy in the room who feebly blurts out "does anybody have a pen for the loser who forgot one?"

Must be term paper season :(

Happy Halloween!!

2010-10-31T10:54:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween dear readers!

On this most festive of days, I haven't really done anything festive at all.

I put stories for the Opinions section into the InDesign layout for the coming week of the Xaverian. I went to the library to drink Earl Grey and read 'Huis Clos' by Jean Paul Sartre. Did you know that "l'enfer c'est les autres?" And I sifted through Psychological studies on gender.

Sounds fun, no? Bet you're just itching to be me right now.

Don't worry about me though. When the multitasking goo starts to seep out of my ears, I'll quit and watch Hocus Pocus while waiting for trick or treaters.

I'm not all that optimistic that I'll get many. I do in fact live in one of the most unkempt, broken glass besmirched, drunkard college kid ridden part of town. And if I were a parent my kid would not definitely not be gallivanting around here.

But a girl can hope. And if not, more Aero bars for me I suppose.

Antigonish, UK

2010-10-27T11:33:00.000-07:00

Sometimes while I'm at school, I feel a bit like I'm in another country.

Fun fact: the distance between Nova Scotia and my hometown in BC is roughly the same distance as between Nova Scotia and Berlin. It is far.

In this town, is is very humid. Most of the buildings are made from brick or stone, and there are many statues of old, dead religious leaders around. In short, although I have never been to England, I feel like I am in England.

This situation is not helped by the following quotation, carved in a wooden slab, that hangs over the campus bar.

“Comradeship and serious joy are not interludes in our travel; but rather our travels are interludes in comradeship and joy, which through God shall endure forever. The inn does not point to the road; the road points to the inn. All roads point at last to an ultimate inn, where we shall meet and when we drink again it shall be from the great flagons in the tavern at the end of the world.”

-G.K. Chesterton

I like this because there is something very east coast about it. But at the same time I feel like I am very far from home and some Tolkien-lke figure with courduroy elbow patches is reading this to me.

Fond recollections of today

2010-10-20T14:46:00.000-07:00

Well beautiful people, it seems that lady fate has (yet again) plopped a long line of banana peels on to the path of my daily ramblings.

Normally during the day I spend my free time between classes in the library doing readings or studying. But today I came home for most of the morning because I am expecting a big fat parcel full of awesome from my parents. I didn't want to miss the delivery, because then I would have to wait a day, walk to the post office, and carry the parcel back.

Normally while in my apartment, I would hang out in my room to get work done, but as I was afraid to miss the knock of the jolly postman, I installed myself in the living room.

For reasons unimportant to this story, I have a locking doorknob on my bedroom door. While reading, I heard it slam and figured out in a hurry that the wind blew it shut (in the locked position) and the keys were inside.

So for the second time this year, I broke in with wild rage and fury. I am actually getting quite good at undermining the structural integrity of doorknobs of all kinds, but this is beside the point.

I left my apartment immediately to go to get a new doorknob and rectify the situation. Hiding any and all evidence of this embarrassing and silly situation was top priority.

By the time I got back, there was a postal slip on the door. The "NO ANSWER" box was very rudely checked off.

I giggled like a madman at this comedy of errors, and now my roommates may conspire to have me committed to the psych ward.

THE END

OH yes, and to top that one off...

I opened my Facebook inbox today to find a message from a friend.

Last week one of the items that I wrote for the paper was about how I think that the culture surrounding Homecoming is really negative and how the administration and professors treat students as if it is expected of them to either be thrown in the drunk tank or lose their clothing in drunkenness and revelry.

The message read as follows:

"hey jessi just picked up the paper from last week

here's a haiku about your article:

read your article

that said homecoming is dumb

what a piece of crap"

Because if it is not enough to have bad luck hate on you, then other people may just do it too.

2010-10-19T11:44:00.000-07:00

Midterm claw hand. Jessi no blog. Ugga.

Happy Thanksgiving!!

2010-10-10T08:10:00.000-07:00

Happy Thanksgiving Canada.

Here's what I am thankful for:

1. An empty library. Almost all of the students have gone away for the weekend so I can get a jump on my midterm studying in sweet golden silence. YES.

2. An empty gym. Same as above.

3. All of my family members are healthy and happy (so far as I know at least). Lots of them even get to spend the holiday together. And even though I can't be there I am happy that somewhere, there is a big Fry turkey fest going on.

4. There are only 54 more days until X-Ring and less than 7 months until I finish my degree! Thankful that I am lucky enough for both of these things to come to me.

5. I am thankful for holiday colouring pages. Given that my juvenile brain cannot let a holiday pass without colouring, cutting something out, or making decorations, I am thankful for my Crayola felt pens and my yet-to-be-coloured turkey.

I know, I am a child.

Happy Birthday Ian!!

2010-10-09T06:33:00.001-07:00

Ian is quite an awesome brother-in-law.

In my youth, he taught me many things about

a) how to do stuff on computers and,

b) how to reject inferior gentleman callers

It's hard to say which has been more useful come to think of it.

Happy Birthday Ian. We can't wait for someday in the near future when we get to pummel you with snowballs. Just kidding (or am I?)

eats, shoots, and leaves

2010-10-05T17:24:00.000-07:00

My real opinion as an editor:

1. People who place multiple spaces between sentences when they type should be slapped until they repent.

2. Similarly, people who come to paper meetings only for the pizza we order, and take a story only to unceremoniously ditch it later, should be kicked in the shins.

3. If you have nothing to write for an Opinions piece, lay into Stephen Harper. It's expected of you.

4. There indicates a place. Their indicates that someone possesses something. If you do not know this, you should be dropkicked out of university.

5. Spelt is a type of flour. Spelled is the past tense of the verb "to spell." See above note about dropkicking.

Just gotta laugh...

2010-10-03T10:10:00.000-07:00

Last year, I lived in a lovely rental house that was in awesome shape, but unfortunately was quite far from campus. I spent a lot of time walking back and forth and looked forward to living closer.

This year, my two roommates and I moved into a three bedroom apartment that is across the street from campus. It is in a building that houses five other apartments. We are on the ground level, with other tenants above and below us.

Since we moved in, serious and irreparable loathing has germinated between us and the gentlemen upstairs. They like to party until 4am, stomping on their floors, fighting, and singing Great Big Sea songs. They also like to crawl out of their sticky, alcohol coated den at early hours of the morning, stomping their way down the stiars as they go.

So begins the following narrative.

I did a 5km race this weekend, and ran into my friend Ryan at the start line.

R: Hey How's it goin?

J: Pretty good how about you?

R: Tired but good.

J: Did you get up to anything fun last night?

R: Yeah I went to this wild house party at a buddy's house. It was wicked we figured out how to get on to the roof on this place and we had like 20 people up there. I thought it was gonna collapse.

J: That sounds pretty wild.

R: Yeah. How bout you what did you do?

J: I basically just got some work done and tried to sleep. But the guys who live above us suck and kept me up all night yet again.

R: That's no good...where do you live?

J: (gives address)

R: HAHAHAHA it was definitely your roof we were on...sorry bout that!

J: (*&$$@!$)

and the original point of today's blog was...

2010-09-16T18:58:00.000-07:00

MY NEPHEW IS FIVE YEARS OLD!!!!

Max, if you are reading this (you are a highly educated kindergarten scholar after all), you should know that all of your Canadian family members are sending you their love. We can't wait to see you next and hopefully be a part of your fifth year.

PS. kindergarten is awesome. I hope you enjoy it.

a tale of woe

2010-09-16T15:09:00.000-07:00

life lesson #3674941

Sometimes, breaking and entering is the most effective means by which to fulfill the practical obligations of one's day. Especially when it's your own house.

The story goes like this:

In a mystical land far far away, three kind princesses were being oppressed by an awful tyrant named Landon Lordious. Landon kept the princesses emprisoned in an awful dungeon where the washing machine made smoke and the tired old lock would only function if they begged and pleaded with it.

One day after the princesses left the dungeon to grace the lands and become educated, the tired old lock clicked it's last click and ceased to function. When two of the princesses returned to the dungeon and could not get in, they were overcome by woe. They called and called for aid, but Landon Lordious just swept them away and hung up on them. They called Landon again and were told that since there was no local wizard who could bring the lock back the life, they would just have to deal with it themselves and break the door down.

The princesses then heaved stone blocks at the magical door, eventually breaking its locking spell. They only mildly embarrassed themselves in the process, making a few strategic grunting noises and tossing out expletives, and they were satisfied in their destructive rebellion.

The princesses got back into their dungeonlike abode and lived bemusedly ever after.

THE END

Well I have to admit...

2010-09-11T09:02:00.001-07:00

You know that classic scene in family life where the poor bedraggled parent is forced to coax, threaten, and force his or her child into the doctor's office to get immunized?

That little battle is very representative of my going back to school behaviour. The sensible part of me knows that it is necessary, and that hyping it up in my mind as the apocalypse is not at all self-serving.

To these rational thoughts the home-loving, fish-catching, lie on the beach with friends Jessi simply responds, "YOU CAN'T MAKE ME." But after a week of avoidance followed by the inevitable packing and actual trip, I have come out with my band-aid and sticker and seen the light.

However comforting it may be to stay in your childhood home and role, there are certain things that only come about through the initiative that being alone provides. At school I am learning to cook (which I like quite a lot), I go to the gym multiple times a week, and pay my own bills. Independence, if not desired, is actually quite satisfying.

At least until you realize that your roommates don't care to own a broom or a vacuum cleaner, and that your room is the size of one stall in a stable.

the lessons of shiftwork

2010-07-23T18:41:00.000-07:00

There are many things that my time at old Celgar has taught me. Of these, I humbly present you a small selection.

1. Truly horrible baby booming old men can be tamed with relatively few revels and/or ice cream sandwiches.

2. When responding to the comments of another that are bitter, racist, wildly offensive, stupid, or otherwise unfavourable, always opt for the non-commital "mmmm." When you throw out a non-commital "mmmm" you just can't lose. It's not a yes, it's not a no. It's just an invitation for the greasy underling who is addressing you to keep running his mouth unchecked (which is coincidentally all that he could ever want of you anyway).

3. *This one is perhaps the most important. It is not only small children who cry just because they are tired. Oh no my friend, adults do it too. We just have a higher threshold for the grievances we may endure prior to the crying. When you first start working erratic shifts (day, day, night, day, night combo for instance), you tend to wail like a forlorn child. I have cried because I couldn't find my book, because the steering wheel locked up in my car, and because the fruit salad was gone. Humiliating.

Note: #3 does not seem to apply to one Allan Fry as he is something of a night shift ninja. Am attempting to emulate.

true patriot love

2010-07-01T09:56:00.000-07:00

Happy Canada Day dear world,

Although I am overwhelmed with inadequacy at the prospect of writing all that I love about Canada, I can go into one of them. His name is George. George Stromboulopoulos. (Aly likes to tease me about my little crush on George, but I insist that our relationship would be strictly platonic, reporter to reporter).

He hosts the best Canadian talk show that there is and is generally awesome. He is a great interviewer. He is funny. And he publicizes green projects like no other. But most importantly of all, he is a proud Canadian that gives us some nationalism to cling to.

So if you have not seen The Hour...do it. Not that I would force you, I am Canadian after all.

On this lovely Canada Day of days, I salute my lovely country and the very appealing talk show hosts within it.

Hail and health. From sea to sea.

On Anna Karenina

2010-06-06T16:34:00.000-07:00

One of my favourite things about summer (and my job for that matter) is that I get to read anything I want without the constraint of time or academic requirement.

I have just finished Anna Karenina. All 700 and something pages of it. And it was epic. The ending has been bothering me for days.

You should read it. Not only because it is a fabulous drama of epic proportions, but because I need someone to complain to about it.

Happy summer reading.

yikes

2010-06-02T18:03:00.000-07:00

One of the greatest subtle grievances in life, if you ask me, occurs when the scene of a calamity utterly fails at reacting to that calamity. Sometimes when you try to move something, it's just too heavy and you look ridiculous. Or you angrily hit someone with a pillow only to realize that they are not only unharmed, but amused.

Case in point: my jolly daily duties at Celgar Pulp Co.

Today I was set the task of shovelling out a pit that was filled with sawdust a foot deep. The pit was bordered by a wall, a large metal box covering a conveyor belt, and a raised platform. The only way into the pit was from a step off of the platform.

Unfortunately what I failed to realize was that the bottom of the pit was not a simple floor, but two different levels with one raised about three inches above the other. So as I stepped in to get that last bit of dust, my ankle hit aformentioned junction point of the two levels resulting in my downfall.

I made a "hnaaaaaaah" noise of terror and shock, smacked my head on the metal box, and went down like a ton of bricks. You know what happened next? Nothing. The sawdust made a gentle "whump" noise that was almost obscenely anticlimactic. Nothing broke, nothing clanged, noone saw.

And so my friend, the next time in your life that a reaction does NOT cause an equal and opposite reaction, take comfort. It happens to everyone.

Sometimes the laws of physics are trumped by the fact that the universe just does not care about the efforts that you are exerting.

Death to Kindle

2010-05-10T15:41:00.000-07:00

Just for the record, I would like to say that I loathe the Kindle with every fibre of my book-loving soul. I swear I'm not the kind of person who unceremoniously rams my opinion down other people's throats. But trust me on this, don't buy a Kindle or any other usurpatory apparatus that resembles it.

Think about it. If some Huxleyesque detestable new world order were enacted where the great works were forbidden and electronics were thrown into a black hole, where would you be? If I was actually paranoid about this I would dig a book shelter underneath my basement in case of a literary catastrophe. As it stands I just keep my collection in a rubbermade bin under my bed that sighs under the stress of each new entry.

Despite maintaining a neutral stance to most new technologies, I long to eradicate the loathsome bit of filth that is the Kindle. If publishers abandon traditional print, the lush and cozy library in my future home will be reduced to a soulless piece of plastic able to obscenely move about my home in mockery of all that is good and tangible.

A Kindle does not absorb the olfactory essence of the reader's environment. It cannot smell like the beach, or spilled tea, or the sad tears of the intellectual wanderer. It can, however, smell like battery acid. Need I say more?

Death to the kindle.

Neil Pasricha style

2010-04-16T17:04:00.000-07:00

I have just discovered the joys of 1000awesomethings.com/. It is a blog written by a guy who writes about one free, awesome thing about life every day. In an endearingly optimistic way, he makes the small monotonous joys of life incredibly funny.

It kind of puts me to shame because I tend more towards thinking that very unpleasant things are funny (because it sucks the depressing venom out of them). So, with inspiration from a fellow blogger, I give you my most awesome thing of this day.

Leaving the last university exam of an academic year.

This is awesome due to the sheer relief upon exit of the exam room. After spending countless hours in the library and living on granola bars and anything the campus coffee shop sells, you are free.

This is a very emotional time for us students. We are violently wrenched between hatred and joy. For those that finish before us, hatred. For ourselves as we leave the last exam, joy. No sympathy for those with 5 days left of studying. Suckas.

I write my last exam tomorrow. As I exit the room, I plan to emit a good "woohoo" of the kind that makes remaining test takers giggle and shake their heads. Then my carpal tunnel inflicted claw-hand and I will walk off into a rainbow to enjoy the rest of life before us.

Cheers to the end of another year.

like a fine wine

2010-04-13T12:43:00.001-07:00

From what I've seen, people seem to face the aging process with nothing short of outright loathing. But young though I may be, I've noticed a few things that only seem to get better with age. It's really not all bad if you ask me.

Take personal taste for example. For those of us (like me) who were timid little sprites back in the day, it was a very hard thing to even admit you liked something. There was always a right band, food, way of dressing, and person that everyone just had to like. When you're little, there seems to be no rhyme or reason to what all the grownups think or like. This can leave you in quite a jumble.

One of the things that I enjoy the most about aging is the ever growing contempt for other people's judgement. TEA, not coffee. ZEPPELIN, not the Stones. YANN MARTEL, not Margaret Atwood. REAL BOOKS, not Kindle.

The older you get the less that the impressions of other people affect your personal taste. Liberating, no?

Happy Easter

2010-04-04T09:28:00.000-07:00

Here, in my humble opinion, are the best things that Easter has to offer

1) A very chocolatey package from home :)

2) Watching The Ten Commandments and Easter Parade.

Every year without fail, ABC broadcasts Charlton Heston's biblical awesomeness. And I always fall asleep before the end. Good times. Also, I love Easter Parade. It makes me wish that men still knew what spats were.

3) It is 20 degrees in Antigonish today. I am in shorts. Since getting a sunburn in Antigonish is somewhat akin to getting frostbite in Tahiti, this definitely calls for some celebration.

4) Kids everywhere are relishing their hard-won day of eating as much chocolate and sugar as the can get their hands on. I can hear the squeals of delight from my cell/cubicle at the library. What joy.

5) At risk of sounding like a second grader rather than a third year university student, if it's Easter, that means it's almost home time. Weee.

I raise my mini eggs to your health and happiness.

Happy Birthday Mom!!

2010-04-01T13:12:00.000-07:00

So much of what is good in my life is because of you. You are a fabulous Mum. I wish I could be with you today but it won't be long now.

Lots of love...no April fooling about it!

puddles = punishment

2010-03-26T11:04:00.000-07:00

Picture this if you will.

It is spring. You are very content because it has been a long, depressing winter. After months of blowing snow that makes its way into every orifice and torrential downpour, you can go for a run and feel the sun shining.

You have just finished a huge assignment and go to hand it in. Then you go for a long lap swim and come out to snow. But it's ok. You are unflappable. In fact, you kind of think "I Rule. I get things done. I do the swimming. World, you are at my mercy, So snow, do your worst. Nothing can challenge my might today."

Such thinking can only end in heartbreak.

As you walk home, you see it from afar. What would normally be a friendly yellow school bus is menacing as it hurtles toward you (at a speed entirely inappropriate for a school bus). Trying to get over the bridge to the safety of your home before it passes you, you become paralyzed with trepidation. You realize that you have failed. Then, splayed against the side of the bridge, every inch of you in your pathetic pink raincoat are hit with the tidal wave formerly known as puddle. Small children roar at your misfortune.

And you realize that whenever you think that life is awesome, you just have to wait a while.

The End.

Forget the new releases...

2010-03-21T10:08:00.000-07:00

In my not so professional opinion, here are 5 older movies that everyone should see.

1. The original Pink Panther.

After watching this, I finally understand why Steve Martin keeps attempting awful remakes. Poor guy. You just can't do comedy this good anymore. Gorrilla suits, mixing up people in the dark, people tripping over things and pretending it never happened...it's the stuff of legend.

2. On the Waterfront.

Now I know why people made such a big deal about Marlon Brando. Also, anyone who kills birds should get a swift smack in the face.

3. 12 Angry Men.

Timeless. Henry Fonda rules. End of story.

4. The Sting.

Ocean's 11 for the classic movie lover.

5. The Maltese Falcon.

The moral of this story is that no one can get the best of Humphrey Bogart. If you try, he will con you right back. And the upside of this one is that if you get depressed by all the villainy, you can just watch Casablanca where almost all of the same people in a more comedic situation. Good times.

Dear Will, go away. Love Jessi.

2010-03-08T13:02:00.000-08:00

In my experience there are a great many things about university that promise to be exponentially cooler in retrospect than they actually were. That time you pulled an all-nighter running on coffee fumes alone to finish a paper. Or that guy who lived next door to you in residence who in all probability was a drug dealer (who am I kidding he was definitely a drug dealer).

Both of these are really not so pleasant while in the moment. But when you think about them later the annoyance fades to amused nostalgia. My most recent example is my Shakespeare class. Don't get me wrong, I like to ooh and ahh over old Willy's timeless brilliance just as much as the rest of nerdkind. But it's a lot cooler to have read Henry V than to have to read it.

Henry V is about a bunch on monarchs threatening each other with war. The war happens, but you never actually see it. What you get is a bunch of dry monologue from buddy Harry the King.

This is the type of play that I sit down to read then wake up two hours later on the couch under my Aly-blanket wondering what happened (with an Anthology shaped dent on my liver might I add). It is a very sad blow to my normal pace of devouring anything I read.

And so, dear departed WS, I declare you wrecker of reading breaks, dauntless assailant to the concept of a page-turner. In your own words, "annointed sovereign of sighs and groans." How long 'till summer?

winning the battle, losing the war

2010-02-22T09:03:00.000-08:00

Last night I woke up in the middle of the night to something miraculous. It would seem that one of my non-vital pillows, so carelessly cast aside in sleep, was perfectly balanced on top of a rather precarious water glass (at a 45 degree angle). The glass was quite full, but kindly had not shed a drop. All atop my helpless little cell phone.

Now it may seem to you that this is not a miracle. But consider this: sleeping Jessi is very agressive (what with the writhing and such). The fact that the thrown pillow did not cause the irreversible destruction of my beloved telephone and link to the world is one in a million. They might test the odds on mythbusters someday.

Also let it be noted that I measure miracles by bad things that did not quite happen, rather than great things that did happen. This almost made up for the squiggle ring incident of '09...but not quite.

Last fall I was walking through a building on campus when a fine specimen of gentlemanhood happened to be passing. I was wearing one of my favourite rings that is gold and squiggly. The end of my ponytailed mane was dangling itchily down the back of my hoodie. I was correcting this as the gentleman passed. I most unfortunately dropped my hand that (unbeknownst to me) was mercilessly stuck in my hair.

Three things followed. First, I made a noise of pain akin to the grunt that Serena Williams exerts at Wimbledon when she hits the ball. Second, the poor male was very confused and uncomfortable and ran away. Third, I was very confused and uncomfortable and ran away. I have been awaiting a miracle of pillow balancing proportions ever since.

2010-02-16T13:06:00.000-08:00

Hello loyal readers (all 2 of you)

I have recently been plagues with bloggeritis. I heard a very snarky man comment that he thought blogs were the ultimate form of narcissism and should be avoided like the plague. This made me very sad as I don't particularly consider myself a narcissist. If I could stare at anything all day it would probably be Bogart movies. So call me a Bogart-ist I suppose.

I recently had a day where I both knocked my glasses into the toilet (then had to wear them) and later found ten dollars on the ground. Sometimes I think that I must be living my own personal Truman show where things are set up delierately to mess with me.

I think blogs are nice because everyone can share their delightful monotony (like the glasses meet toilet incident). That way if noone cares, the poor reader can simply go creep around on Facebook. Take that Mr. Grumpus.

daydreaming

2010-01-24T10:21:00.000-08:00

Every January on one shivery night or another I succumb to my summer longing and take a nostalgic journey through iPhoto. This time I ended up poring over pictures from a Fry-women weekend in Penticton last summer.

It was around 38 degrees celsuis and we stopped at a fruit stand to get peaches. Then we wandered the beachside boardwalk eating ice creams only to be hit with waterguns from an RV full of 20 something males.

We're hoping to do it again this year - without the water gun part of course.

Well I'm back

2010-01-19T15:58:00.000-08:00

Aside from being a covert Lord of the Rings reference, the heading should let you know my present whereabouts: back in frigid Nova Scotia. The conference was unbelievable. I got to go to a lot of seminars and officially take my place among the journalistic nerd herd of Canadian universities.

Although I don't plan on going into journalism, I was totally awestruck by the speakers – Jan Wong and Adrienne Arsenault in particular. They seemed to exemplify that anything worth doing is worth doing with passion. I think that's an admirable thing to emulate. Now to figure out what to do...

out of town

2010-01-10T14:54:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow I leave to start my trek from Antigonish to Edmonton for the Canadian University Press Conference. A regular nerd convention, I am sure to find many bespectacled student journalists much like myself.

I am excited not only for all the seminars and key note presentations, but also for my stay with Aly! We are going to go to the Tegan and Sara concert and hit the mall before the tidal wave of respective thesis-writing and class-missing doom inundates life as we know it.

Sounds like fun, no?

back to school blues

2010-01-06T13:15:00.001-08:00

I am back at school.

Although the immediate thoughts that arise from the return to Antigonish are sad ones, it is kind of nice to exercise my brain again. Over the break all knowledge seeped out, allowing tumbleweeds to blow around and dustbunnies to accrue.

I very much mourn the loss of days filled with snowman building, movie watching and general family gathering, but it was kind of satisfying to evict the dustbunnies.

Days of holly

2009-12-18T19:29:00.000-08:00

Hello blog world.

I am home. I am very happy to be home making snowmen and eating nice Christmassy things.

Other than this I have no news (unless the permanent pillow lines on my face are news). It is nice to relax and I hope that everyone else is having a lovely holiday rest just as I am.

Change of Address

2009-12-06T07:20:00.000-08:00

You may now contact me at:

Jessi the library mouse

3rd floor bound serials section, aisle R

Angus L. MacDonald Library

School

I take a break from my studies of Cognitive Dissonance to update you, internet friends. Although the most exciting thing going on here is the occasional sneeze as a product of 16 year old dust, I am compelled to think of happier times.

The picture is from a night not too long ago when my roommates as I all went to the Christmas Ball. It was not particularly fun. On the contrary it was filled with disappointing occurences that come along with nicely dressed people doing moronic things.

For example, a few of my classmates stole the fake presents from under the Christmas tree and opened them to find styrofoam. Others cried over martinis. Still others had highly pigmented red drinks spilt on them by unapologetic inebriated buffoons.

The sad thing is though, that evening seems pleasant in the context of mental escapism at the library. You can only sneeze at the 1993 serials for so long until your mind starts to wander.

the countdown begins...

2009-12-03T11:57:00.000-08:00

Happy December Third!!

Though you may not know it, today is the feast day of St. Francis Xavier. He's the friendly neighbourhood saint from which my humble institution of learning takes its name. Now I am not Catholic, but as all Xaverians know, today is a very exciting day.

Back in days of old some marketing genius decided that every graduate of this university should get a very distinctive golden X-ring. So on December third every year, the students of the senior class prematurely don their academic regalia to ceremonially receive their X-rings.

Despite the hefty price tag on the ring, I like the idea because it is said to commemorate the completion of your university quest towards "whatsoever things are honorable, just, and true." If there's anything that my school is good at, it's putting out virtuous rhetoric.

The point of all this rambling is simply this: I want my X-ring. Now I am only 365 days away!! And that is very exciting!

Desperate times call for desperate measures

2009-11-25T16:20:00.000-08:00

Today I had the pleasure of handing in my paper on James Joyce's Dubliners. It marked the end of the History/Shakespeare/British Literature triad of paper season doom and I was quite relieved – albeit bleary eyed.

I imagine that I get much the same feeling handing in a paper as runners get when they finish a race. It is the best part of the whole process.

As my trusty iPod blared out some quality Christmas tunes on the way home, I realized that it is much harder to get into the holiday spirit without snow. It is utterly shocking that Antigonish is still snowless this time of year, with temperatures above zero no less!!

So when I got home, I decided to legitimize my obsession with Christmas à la Crosby and Sinatra by making snow. Paper snowflakes that is. They are all over the walls.

Despite allegations that I have mentally regressed to kindergarten, I am quite pleased with my creations.

In case your playlist is tired...

2009-11-16T13:34:00.000-08:00

Jessi's top 5 songs for relaxing at the end of the day (preferably with a cup of tea).

1) Damien Rice - Delicate

2) Nick Drake - One of these things first

3) Whitley - A shot to the stars

4) RJD2 - Ghostwriter

5) Jeff Buckley - Lover you should have come over

Fridge Frustrations

2009-11-11T11:15:00.000-08:00

When people think of homesickness, they don't usually think of appliances. I, on the other hand, do.

Although I miss my family and friends in BC very much, the thing that tends to set off the feeling of loss of my home environment is the unfriendly hum of new appliances.

My fridge at home, for instance, emits a friendly little hum that all are quite accustomed to. The fridge in my rental house however, makes a noise as if everything inside it has just crashed to the floor. It does not simply do this when one is watching tv, but rather

when a truly zen-like academic concentration has just

been achieved. This results in a lot of $@&%#-type comments by all.

The microwave as well leaves something to be desired. When the time is up for whatever you happen to be heating, the microwave beeps as normal. But then if you leave your item in there for too long, it proceeds to beep angrily until you retrieve it. My microwave at home would never be so bold.

In my opinion, a microwave should be like the library. It should provide a service, which the user is free to partake in at his or her own convenience. And like the library, it should silently tolerate abuses or forgetfulness of the user until such a time as he or she comes back to shamefully deal with the situation.

Anyways, the point of all this is that I miss my demure little appliances at home. They do not presume to be the most important thing in my life by emitting angry beeps or clunking noises. And they stay miraculously clean (although Mom and Dad might have something to do with that one).

2009-11-08T12:19:00.000-08:00

Now I am not normally among those who like to poke fun at Newfoundlanders. But given that two of my friends from Newfoundland showed me this, I can reasonably conclude that it's too silly to even be offensive.

Enjoy.

Of homemade oreos and bite sized chocolate bars

2009-10-30T14:06:00.000-07:00

Happy Halloween (well nearly)

As I am home from the library for a brief dinner break, I thought that I would confess a little secret to the internet, worst of all secret keepers.

My secret is this: I hate university Halloween. I hate the idea that Lady Gaga and cheap bar shots are trying to break into the festivities of the most innocent of holidays. I hate how most of the females I know are trying to figure out what is the best way to create a costume with maximum effect and minimum coverage.

I'm not particularly conservative, but I think that Halloween is about candy corn and warm cookies and little kids in cute costumes. I would rather stay home and watch Hocus Pocus while consuming vast amounts of sugar and colouring in a Halloween colouring book. I would rather give out candy and pretend that all the little ones at the door are Max and Maggie.

And so that is precisely what I plan to do.

Don't tell anyone though. My official excuse is that I have a term paper due next week. But really, I rebel against the idea that Mr. Alexander Keith must be present on every single holiday.

Take this Marlowe! Take that Raleigh!

2009-10-28T13:57:00.000-07:00

Jessi's Reply to Amazon.com, dealer of ersatz backpacks

If all the world and retail were young,

And truth in every merchant's tongue,

Your pretty products might me move

To buy from thee and be thy Love.

But time drives seams from shut to ope;

When backpacks break and quash my hope;

And Dakine brand doth disappoint;

The rest complains of cares to come.

When novelty fades and craftsmanship bows

To anthologies of 50 pounds

A honey tongue, a claim untrue,

Is Amazon's game to swindle you.

Thy selection, thy shipping, thy top 10 lists,

Rhythmic emails to my inbox never missed,

Soon break, soon wither - soon forgotten,

In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

My backpack is splitting at the seams after a mere two months. I am ignoring the possibility that I drove it to ruin by regularly testing the laws of physics with it.

the eye of the storm

2009-10-25T08:19:00.000-07:00

Yay!

Midterms are over and that can only mean one thing. My roommates and I (like many others) were lulled into a false sense of security that I like to call the eye of the storm.

Because the fear of impending academic doom left us on Friday, we no longer felt the need to spend whole days in the library. We no longer woke up at the crack of dawn to study after studying into the wee hours the previous night. We remembered that real breakfast involves fruit, cereal, and tea - not instant breakfast powder blended with expired milk.

We had a very fun weekend, meeting up with some friends and breathing sighs of relief. Kathleen and I were even caught smiling!

Regret is sure to follow.

So as I repent for my two days in the sun by diving into a psych lab and deep stacks of notes, I take comfort in knowing that there are about 2,000 other students at StFX with festering accumulations of guilt and dread at the pit of their stomachs and I am not alone.

coughing cacophony

2009-10-16T14:43:00.000-07:00

Cough cough.

That has been the Jessian version of hello lately. I have a nasty little case of bronchitis. But having hiked through the freezing windy tempest to the doc's office in pursuit of good health (kind of a self-defeating mission I guess) and I am now on the mend. The doc gave me a puffer full of steroids that leaves a taste in my mouth reminiscent of the last time I ate playdough at 5 years old.

Illness is unfortunately not the only thing that plagues StFX students this time of year. Midterms. They are not fun. As he was handing out the test, my Canadian History prof said, "Maybe I'll go down in History as a torture inflicter for this." You'll not be shocked, dear reader, to learn that nobody laughed.

Gobble. Gobble. Gobble.

2009-10-10T07:16:00.000-07:00

Happy Thanksgiving!

I hope that all of my loved ones are doing nice fall things like drinking hot chocolate and taking walks down leaf-strewn streets. Fall is in full swing here and my walk to school is beautiful. The ivy on al of the brick buildings is changing colour and it makes me sad that such a beautiful sight will soon give way to snow.

As for weekend

activities, I plan to study, study, make a nice dinner, then study some more. I have the house to myself this weekend but a few friends from rez have stayed around too so I'm going to have them over and cook something scrumptious. I have a Canadian History midterm on Monday so that threatens to take up most of my weekend time.

This year, I am thankful for my cozy house. Not having to live with boys who defy the conventions of cleanliness and decency has made all the difference in the world. I am thankful for my faraway family who are excellent at sending love, cards in the shape of turkeys, and other happy surprises.

I am thankful that Monday is a day off. But most of all, I am thankful that almost all of the study spaces on campus are barren and desolate; I can get some good studying done without snuffling guy, or talks-on-skype-at-the-library guy distracting me. It's bound to be a boring, but satisfying weekend.

Culinary and Cinematic Adventures

2009-10-04T08:41:00.000-07:00

This weekend I had to do some public speaking (which I don't like) and be looked at by a lot of people during the speech (which I like even less). To celebrate the fact that my ordeal was over, I made (relatively) good food and watched a good movie.

I attempted to make the Fry family staple of Tomato and Hamburger casserole. Generally it was edible, but I learned that if your recipe call for 1kg of beef, you should consider the possibility that you wrote it down wrong. After all, 1kg is a lot. I am likely to be eating this for the next week.

I finished off the night by watching The Sting. I was very impressed.

I made this chocolate cake for my room mate Kathleen's birthday.

And although I will never equal the stir fry master that is my father, this one was pretty good.

Ace

2009-10-02T12:23:00.000-07:00

After some exceptionally rejuvenating birthday fun, I kicked myself back into work mode this week. I've been doing lots of reading for classes and I picked up a few stories for the paper to go along with my editing work.

But here's the good part.

While chasing down an evasive source in the university bureaucracy, I hit a little setback. When he finally emailed me back after a fair bit of hounding, the individual in question said that it would be a bad career move in his part to fuel my unethical speculations. He went on to suggest that I bugger off (reading between the lines here). Two things have come of this.

1) I feel like a real journalist. After all, you're just not that rude to someone unless you feel that they are going to expose something that you did that was moronic.

2)My motivation to get the story right has been redoubled. After all, people tend to screw up sometimes in a professional capacity. I generally feel a bit bad for outing them if it was an honest mistake. But those that struggle against the venus flytrap of journalistic truth will only be devoured faster. If you are rude to me, my sympathy for you gets nullified faster than you can say uncooperative.

Watch out bureaucracy. I'm mad now.

poisonous bunch-back'd toad!

2009-09-27T13:56:00.000-07:00

For my birthday I got a lovely flower arrangement from the fam. I was very happy and just had to photograph them! Today my roommate Kathleen got me three roses and a cake!

I also had a nice box to open from home containing lots of comforts. Among these was a mug covered with Shakespearean insults from Jill (lump of foul deformity, bolting-hutch of beastliness etc). I am heartily amused by it and it made me forget for a moment that my wonderful teen years are a thing of the past!

extra extra read all about it

2009-09-25T13:59:00.000-07:00

Happy Friday internet friends...

Here are a couple of photos of the Xaverian Weekly newsroom. I particularly like the three pretty iMacs.

Although some writing about legitimate and nationally relevant news goes on here, we tend to focus a lot on the strange financial endeavors of the university administration.
For instance, they recently updated our football field, putting in new turf and a spiffy new track. Administration however, decided that it was absolutely necessary to have the track be a golden hue to symbolize the famous golden X ring. The golden track was much more costly than a regular track.

3 MILLION DOLLARS MORE! That's the rumour anyways. We chose to cover the development, while mocking this silliness. And in the end, the only thing that management gets out of the three million dollars is mockery. Students have in fact been known to chant "follow the yellow brick road." Oh the bureaucracy!

Black Tuesday

2009-09-22T12:45:00.000-07:00

Hello internet friends,

I regret to inform you that today is Black Tuesday. The implications of this for you my reader are nonexistent (unless my unhappiness plagues you so that you become unhappy as a result). I am regularly grouchy on Tuesdays because my class schedule is such that I have every single class on this dreary day. After classes I head to the Xaverian Weekly newsroom where I copy edit this week's edition of the paper. It makes for a really long day.

Now for a brief pause in the complaining. I really do enjoy my classes (especially Shakespeare) and working for the paper is a lot of fun. I am very happy that I have so successfully found my nerdy niche in the world. But the logistics of feeding myself and getting where I need to go with 500lbs of books on this horrible day of days are overwhelming.

At the end of the day I like to watch the tv listings channel to complete the liquifying process in my brain (just kidding).

2009-09-20T17:25:00.000-07:00

Hello blog world. It has been a while. At present I have laryngitis as well as some other nasty viral thing that keeps me from my regular weekend bustling. But in my ever increasing frustration with Facebook I have been meaning to communicate my doings through another means = the blog.

Having spent the last three days lying on the couch and bemoaning my sickly existence, I haven't much news to share with the world. But above I have included some pictures of my new house at school. I have 3 roommates who are quite a lot of fun. September has been busy but fun. I love my bedroom...despite its tangerine hue. The master bathroom is especially handy. The kitchen is nice and roomy too.