There are so many holiday celebrations, and politically correctness is such a large issue these days that I can't simply design a post to say "Merry Christmas". But saying Happy Holidays is lame.
Therefore...
Merry Christmas
Happy Kwanzaa
Happy Hanukkah
Happy New Year
Jolly Islamic holidays that are too many to name
And so on and so forth...
I guess there is some sense to Happy Holidays.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Boy, Girl, Boy, Girl, Boy...
The stereotype that what a girl wants from a boy is stability; the relationship, the doting, the presents, the constant reassurance. Then there is the stereotype that what a boy wants is essentially physical; nothing clingy, but faithfulness, or maybe no "relationship" at all, and just some handy benefits.
Alright, so that's the general stereotype, and you know what? a lot of people generally are that way... but what about the boys and girls that have a serious case of role reversal? I'm talking about the boys who are so infuriatingly suffocating - who want the commitment, the white picket fence, the happily ever after, the whatever is supposed to happen when they ride off into the sunset. And the girls who don't want any of that, don't want to be tied down, who want freedom and simple company.
And so we have Dragonette's "Take it Like a Man" - you gotta take it like a man. Is it really such a deep cut that I have to come and stitch it up? A woman, who does not want to take care of a man, and a man who loves her for that but wants her to change. In my experience, this is essentially the trend with the beings called "boys". Neyo writes a song termed "Miss Independent", singing about how refreshing and attractive it is to find a woman who is anything but needy, who can take care of herself. What he doesn't croon on that particular record is what happens within a reltionship between such a boy and such a girl. Yes, the male component finds it incredibly appealing that this lady seems not to need him, what he doesn't make public notice, however, is that she is a challenge. He wants her to need him, and so the chase is off. This girl though, is never going to feel the way about the boy that he wants her to, and so this is basically a failed relationship. And since most boys are looking for someone to take care of, where the hell does that leave this girl?
I have no idea, actually. Perhaps looking for someone who she does need, and leaving the boy looking for someone who needs him. Yet, since people are creatures of habit, I find that generally this relationship becomes a cycle of changing people, with neither the boy, nor the girl changing their ways or realizing what they need.
Alright, so that's the general stereotype, and you know what? a lot of people generally are that way... but what about the boys and girls that have a serious case of role reversal? I'm talking about the boys who are so infuriatingly suffocating - who want the commitment, the white picket fence, the happily ever after, the whatever is supposed to happen when they ride off into the sunset. And the girls who don't want any of that, don't want to be tied down, who want freedom and simple company.
And so we have Dragonette's "Take it Like a Man" - you gotta take it like a man. Is it really such a deep cut that I have to come and stitch it up? A woman, who does not want to take care of a man, and a man who loves her for that but wants her to change. In my experience, this is essentially the trend with the beings called "boys". Neyo writes a song termed "Miss Independent", singing about how refreshing and attractive it is to find a woman who is anything but needy, who can take care of herself. What he doesn't croon on that particular record is what happens within a reltionship between such a boy and such a girl. Yes, the male component finds it incredibly appealing that this lady seems not to need him, what he doesn't make public notice, however, is that she is a challenge. He wants her to need him, and so the chase is off. This girl though, is never going to feel the way about the boy that he wants her to, and so this is basically a failed relationship. And since most boys are looking for someone to take care of, where the hell does that leave this girl?
I have no idea, actually. Perhaps looking for someone who she does need, and leaving the boy looking for someone who needs him. Yet, since people are creatures of habit, I find that generally this relationship becomes a cycle of changing people, with neither the boy, nor the girl changing their ways or realizing what they need.
Friday, December 19, 2008
Creepering 101
You know, I think everything important in life I've learned at a concert; don't hang around with people if you're not having fun together, throw limbs around at random - it's good times, and anything mellow and slow is definitely not my forte.
Tonight, however, I learned something entirely different.
It didn't come from the hauntingly fantastic voice of Emily Haines, but from a close friend of mine who, although she tries very, very hard, is just a big creeper. Tonight I learned how to use creepiness as an advantage, and how pushing it too far can be disastrous.
Background information is key: Calgary, AB, believe it or not is home of an enormous "indie" scene, outfitted in everything from American Apparel to vintage pieces. Calgary also attracts a lot of travelers from, say... New Zealand. Travelers have cute accents, and are therefore attractive. Travelers also like to go to concerts, and happen to be friends of friends.
I think from the step-by-step, a point about where the turn of events happen can be seen.
So my close friend, finding this person attractive, began looking for them everywhere, and we did see quite a bit of each other during the evening.
Things went wrong, badly wrong, however, during the last set-break. This adorable traveler was separated from the herd and therefore was walking us around passing as once, twice, thrice... seven times. After the fifth, I was beginning to find it both slightly weird and a little creepy, but what do we all know to be true? When someone is hot enough, nothing they can do short of making a voodoo doll or looking into your bedroom window with binoculars can be termed creepy, instead, it's flattering. This is the good creepy, the attractive creepy.
Then here comes the bad part: the adorable Kiwi found his friends, and stood chatting near us, slowly disappearing behind the pillar my friend and I were leaning against. Not thinking (clearly) my friend decides to peer around the pillar at them. Now, "peer" does not capture the moment clearly enough. Have you ever seen those cartoons in which the characters (think Shaggy and Scooby-Doo) crane their necks impossibly far around corners to see if the coast is clear? Well, that sort of look is apparently what my friend was going for. I, of course, being slightly creepy myself, tilt my head to look as well. However, my face bore a "what are you looking at?" sort of expression, whilst hers bore a "I will steal your used Kleenexs and light candles in your honor look".
However, hilarity ensued because his face clearly said "OMFG WHAT?!", and Metric performed brilliantly enough that she and I forgot about it... luckily the Worldwide Web never will.
Tonight, however, I learned something entirely different.
It didn't come from the hauntingly fantastic voice of Emily Haines, but from a close friend of mine who, although she tries very, very hard, is just a big creeper. Tonight I learned how to use creepiness as an advantage, and how pushing it too far can be disastrous.
Background information is key: Calgary, AB, believe it or not is home of an enormous "indie" scene, outfitted in everything from American Apparel to vintage pieces. Calgary also attracts a lot of travelers from, say... New Zealand. Travelers have cute accents, and are therefore attractive. Travelers also like to go to concerts, and happen to be friends of friends.
I think from the step-by-step, a point about where the turn of events happen can be seen.
So my close friend, finding this person attractive, began looking for them everywhere, and we did see quite a bit of each other during the evening.
Things went wrong, badly wrong, however, during the last set-break. This adorable traveler was separated from the herd and therefore was walking us around passing as once, twice, thrice... seven times. After the fifth, I was beginning to find it both slightly weird and a little creepy, but what do we all know to be true? When someone is hot enough, nothing they can do short of making a voodoo doll or looking into your bedroom window with binoculars can be termed creepy, instead, it's flattering. This is the good creepy, the attractive creepy.
Then here comes the bad part: the adorable Kiwi found his friends, and stood chatting near us, slowly disappearing behind the pillar my friend and I were leaning against. Not thinking (clearly) my friend decides to peer around the pillar at them. Now, "peer" does not capture the moment clearly enough. Have you ever seen those cartoons in which the characters (think Shaggy and Scooby-Doo) crane their necks impossibly far around corners to see if the coast is clear? Well, that sort of look is apparently what my friend was going for. I, of course, being slightly creepy myself, tilt my head to look as well. However, my face bore a "what are you looking at?" sort of expression, whilst hers bore a "I will steal your used Kleenexs and light candles in your honor look".
However, hilarity ensued because his face clearly said "OMFG WHAT?!", and Metric performed brilliantly enough that she and I forgot about it... luckily the Worldwide Web never will.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Public Service Announcement
"He was one of God's own prototypes: a high-powered mutant never even
considered for mass-production. Too weird to live, too rare to die” -
H. S. Thompson
stadium steps, landing two feet away from me. It was like staring
death in the face. Every time the drumstick hit the drum I felt as if
history's greatest villains were being resurrected. Hitler. Stalin.
Gargamel. All of their spirits started to mass behind Crazy P as he
was readying them to attack. And then he started pointing into the
crowd, singling out the innocent, trying to bring them down with him.
It was terrifying. I felt like I was experiencing the rapture. Luckily
the announcer cut through the horror a calling out half time, my
chance to save my soul and escape back to rez and safety.
considered for mass-production. Too weird to live, too rare to die” -
H. S. Thompson
It is worse then that cliché nightmare where you arrive at school
with no pants on. It was more horrendous then the special effects in
any 1950's B-movie. It was more bone chilling then that sorrowful
prepubescent day when your parents lightly knocked on your door,
telling you that birds and bees were no longer spring-time critters
that frequented the garden. It was Crazy P, the BC Lions vigilante,
and he was stand two feet away from me.
On a good day mascots perturb me. Something about not knowing who is
assuming the shape and responsibility of my team's representative is
unnerving. Also the thought of being enclosed in a heavily sweat in
suit, staring out onto a sea of alcohol heightened jeering fans is far
from appealing. But now that I've witness the other option, Viva La
Mascot!
It was the night of the big rivalry between UBC and SFU; the
Thunderbirds vs. The Clan. Brought by the bus loads, intoxicated Clan
fans briefly co-mingled with UBC students before each were segregated
into their seating sections by a series of flimsy paper arrows. Myself
and three friends, decked in blue crew shirts, dared to venture to the
bottom rows, hoping for the clearest view of the field. Slightly
unsettled I missed the kickoff as Storm the Thunderbird slow danced in
front of me. My attention was only caught when the announcer raised
his voice, redirecting everyones wandering gazes to the front of the
field, where we were to welcome a special guest, Crazy P, who was
riding in the bed of a truck.
His presence was bordering animalistic. Wearing an orange Lions
jersey, black shorts, sunglasses and baseball cap with drum in hand,
he took a power stance, as if it were his destiny to get everyone
excited about the game. Without speaking he told stories, that every
morning before “work” he ripped through phone books, and others of how
he was conceived at Super Bowl tailgate party so many years ago. The
worst part was his face. When he wasn't screaming support and
encouragement, and when he took a break from relentlessly banging the
drum, he looked like a gapped tooth business man, down on his luck.
The kind that if he came to your door trying to sell you shower
curtain rings, despite having a sliding shower door, you would buy
some anyways because you knew his car was going to be repossessed and
his wife was about to take the kids and leave. He was also the kind of
person that you wondered if they had an off switch or if they were
always stuck in their high powered intrusive state or if he could
function in normal social settings.
stadium steps, landing two feet away from me. It was like staring
death in the face. Every time the drumstick hit the drum I felt as if
history's greatest villains were being resurrected. Hitler. Stalin.
Gargamel. All of their spirits started to mass behind Crazy P as he
was readying them to attack. And then he started pointing into the
crowd, singling out the innocent, trying to bring them down with him.
It was terrifying. I felt like I was experiencing the rapture. Luckily
the announcer cut through the horror a calling out half time, my
chance to save my soul and escape back to rez and safety.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
University, One Big Playground
That last post was just pure silliness brought on by exam stress, lack of sleep, endorphin high, and caffeine OD. What's also pure silliness? The fact that there's a five foot snow-penis, epic snow fort, and several decorative snowman sprinkled over the field of my Res. And they were all constructed by my fellow co-eds.
At approximately 10:30 pm last night, people began to notice that it was legitimately snowing, and just like that we were all kids again. For some people it was actually the first snowfall they had ever experienced... I have never seen snow illuminated by so many camera flashes. As a Canadian and someone who spent that past decade of their lives in Calgary, where it has actually snow-stormed in August, it's not uncommon to see white flakes drifting down from the sky. I think that if you had never experienced snow before, never felt it or ran through it or tasted it or fell into it, the first snowfall of winter would be something indeed. Just think about how weird snow is - soft, life, sticky, fluffy, cold... and then probably melting if you held it through all of those adjectives. The other things is, we live Vancouver and therefore the most beautiful place for any season. The temperature is always perfect for the weather, and the view always promises to be picturesque (I should write travel brochures). I think it was the wonder of the foreign exchange kids, seeing snow for the first time, combined with the evil boy-minds from Robson who launched the first snowball, creating a night of mayhem
Just like children, mature university students from every building ventured into the (semi-)cold to throw snow at each other, run around, and make snow angels.
If you've forgotten what a "face-wash" is I suggest you go outside and ask the nearest 11 year old for one, because the experience of snow being shoved in your face (while your mouth was open and everything) is purely unforgettable. Same with being tackled down and pelted with snow... and slipping for the first time, dissolving into fits of laughter. Same with the first snowfall of the year away from home, as an independent adult, who just wants to have serious snowball fights, ignoring exams in favor of play.
At approximately 10:30 pm last night, people began to notice that it was legitimately snowing, and just like that we were all kids again. For some people it was actually the first snowfall they had ever experienced... I have never seen snow illuminated by so many camera flashes. As a Canadian and someone who spent that past decade of their lives in Calgary, where it has actually snow-stormed in August, it's not uncommon to see white flakes drifting down from the sky. I think that if you had never experienced snow before, never felt it or ran through it or tasted it or fell into it, the first snowfall of winter would be something indeed. Just think about how weird snow is - soft, life, sticky, fluffy, cold... and then probably melting if you held it through all of those adjectives. The other things is, we live Vancouver and therefore the most beautiful place for any season. The temperature is always perfect for the weather, and the view always promises to be picturesque (I should write travel brochures). I think it was the wonder of the foreign exchange kids, seeing snow for the first time, combined with the evil boy-minds from Robson who launched the first snowball, creating a night of mayhem
Just like children, mature university students from every building ventured into the (semi-)cold to throw snow at each other, run around, and make snow angels.
If you've forgotten what a "face-wash" is I suggest you go outside and ask the nearest 11 year old for one, because the experience of snow being shoved in your face (while your mouth was open and everything) is purely unforgettable. Same with being tackled down and pelted with snow... and slipping for the first time, dissolving into fits of laughter. Same with the first snowfall of the year away from home, as an independent adult, who just wants to have serious snowball fights, ignoring exams in favor of play.
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Tight+Not made in China = American Apparel
As far as I can tell there are three basic people who shop at American Apparel.
1. The Activist. Normally of a vegetarian/vegan dietary habits. Their Facebooks are filled with "causes". They've traversed the world, they are legit shoppers. They shop at American Apparel to avoid the "Made in China" labels - they come as ideological shoppers, who don't support sweatshops, or anything done illegitimately. If AA has any noble shoppers it's these ones.
2. The Trend-whore. Remember how AA got all trendy at one point? When all the scenester kids started wearing tights and oversize cardigans, or colored skinny jeans and mono-chromatic tees with Kanye glasses and checkered scarves? When they took a brand that was supposed to represent turning the basic into your own into a mass, recognizable fashion trend. These people don't even know that the clothes are anti-sweatshop and made in LA (which is why each tee is $30), they just buy it and don it.
3. The Bystander. I have yet to meet more than two people who actually fit into this category. They are the people who actually just like the clothes, who enjoy buying the hoodies for the sake of owning them. They just like American Apparel. The aforementioned group tends to claim to be these people, but that's more transparent than a pair of stockings. The weird thing about this group is that normally people who enjoy basics just go to Superstore or something of the like, where $10 can actually buy something. So who does like AA - probably the models, or the trendy looking hippies who I sometimes see poking about campus.
American Apparel amazes me because I only understand the original concept behind it, I don't understand wearing the clothes. Then again, I don't really understand buying a brand because everyone's doing it... maybe I'll have to buy into it before I can. (I'm so funny.)
1. The Activist. Normally of a vegetarian/vegan dietary habits. Their Facebooks are filled with "causes". They've traversed the world, they are legit shoppers. They shop at American Apparel to avoid the "Made in China" labels - they come as ideological shoppers, who don't support sweatshops, or anything done illegitimately. If AA has any noble shoppers it's these ones.
2. The Trend-whore. Remember how AA got all trendy at one point? When all the scenester kids started wearing tights and oversize cardigans, or colored skinny jeans and mono-chromatic tees with Kanye glasses and checkered scarves? When they took a brand that was supposed to represent turning the basic into your own into a mass, recognizable fashion trend. These people don't even know that the clothes are anti-sweatshop and made in LA (which is why each tee is $30), they just buy it and don it.
3. The Bystander. I have yet to meet more than two people who actually fit into this category. They are the people who actually just like the clothes, who enjoy buying the hoodies for the sake of owning them. They just like American Apparel. The aforementioned group tends to claim to be these people, but that's more transparent than a pair of stockings. The weird thing about this group is that normally people who enjoy basics just go to Superstore or something of the like, where $10 can actually buy something. So who does like AA - probably the models, or the trendy looking hippies who I sometimes see poking about campus.
American Apparel amazes me because I only understand the original concept behind it, I don't understand wearing the clothes. Then again, I don't really understand buying a brand because everyone's doing it... maybe I'll have to buy into it before I can. (I'm so funny.)
Who Does Laundry at 530 AM?
Some random who also fold their clothes in there, that's who, and probably that guy who thought it was a good idea to put shoes in the dryer.
What's worse than laundry at 5 in the morning; they use the washer that squeals in pain every time someone uses it.
As if living on the first floor of a six floor dorm wasn't bad enough - I mean, there's already a "ding" every five minutes as everyone above second takes the elevator. And then there's those people who think it's alright to come in yelling at three in the morning, or the ones who thought it was funny to strategically place our lounge furniture all over the halls, or that guy who throws up in our bathrooms every weekend. Yeah, that's all pretty bad, and it's topped off by the laundry room, of course.
Now, there's only one thing that makes everything I just said worse: Finals. (There's that capital F again). Oh, I take that back. Not everything of the aforementioned rant is made worse by Finals; on the bright side Mr. Regurgitation hasn't been seen for weeks.
And now back to my point:
Normally, the loud people, the ridiculous laundry decisions, and the elevator are things you just ignore and get over, but when it's after midnight and I have an exam worth 50% of the semester in 8 hours, you do not spend fifteen minutes talking about sports outside my door. That is how you end up with a knife in your side, and put a smile on my sweetly dreaming face. Nor do you make the decision to do laundry at five or two or three in the morning, because that's just common courtesy. Being on first floor, however, somehow absolves people of having any obligatory thought towards its residents.
And the excuses? Well, my favorite thus far is, "Oh, I thought this was like a lobby floor." Poor guy, he was visiting from Victoria, but I had no idea that lobbies occupied entire floors in my home town. Must be a new feature.
A message to all residents, visitors, strangers, and would-be burglars: It's Finals, everyone is on edge, and everyone is busy, but just wait three more hours before putting a load in at 5 AM, alright?
What's worse than laundry at 5 in the morning; they use the washer that squeals in pain every time someone uses it.
As if living on the first floor of a six floor dorm wasn't bad enough - I mean, there's already a "ding" every five minutes as everyone above second takes the elevator. And then there's those people who think it's alright to come in yelling at three in the morning, or the ones who thought it was funny to strategically place our lounge furniture all over the halls, or that guy who throws up in our bathrooms every weekend. Yeah, that's all pretty bad, and it's topped off by the laundry room, of course.
Now, there's only one thing that makes everything I just said worse: Finals. (There's that capital F again). Oh, I take that back. Not everything of the aforementioned rant is made worse by Finals; on the bright side Mr. Regurgitation hasn't been seen for weeks.
And now back to my point:
Normally, the loud people, the ridiculous laundry decisions, and the elevator are things you just ignore and get over, but when it's after midnight and I have an exam worth 50% of the semester in 8 hours, you do not spend fifteen minutes talking about sports outside my door. That is how you end up with a knife in your side, and put a smile on my sweetly dreaming face. Nor do you make the decision to do laundry at five or two or three in the morning, because that's just common courtesy. Being on first floor, however, somehow absolves people of having any obligatory thought towards its residents.
And the excuses? Well, my favorite thus far is, "Oh, I thought this was like a lobby floor." Poor guy, he was visiting from Victoria, but I had no idea that lobbies occupied entire floors in my home town. Must be a new feature.
A message to all residents, visitors, strangers, and would-be burglars: It's Finals, everyone is on edge, and everyone is busy, but just wait three more hours before putting a load in at 5 AM, alright?
Monday, December 1, 2008
I present to you...
The Faculties.
Each one comes with a preexisting connotation. You picked Arts, it means you don't know what to do with yourself and are looking to coast. You picked Science, you're a nerd who wants to go to Med school. You picked Engineering, you can drink lots of beer and do lots of math. At the same time. You picked H.Kin, you're lacking brains, but not brawn. You picked Forestry, you're a tree-hugger destined for hippie-ship. You picked Commerce, you're headed down a useless and redundant path, and carry annoying clipboards. There are, of course, other faculties, but these are the ones that get the main attention, and the main stereotyping.
However, no one person from any faculty embodies the stereotype cast upon them by each other faculty. In fact, in my experience, Science kids, although they work their asses off, are not all nerds, and some of them are even as aimless as (gasp) Arts kids. Then there are the Arts students who actually know what they want to do with their lives, and are completely brilliant at whatever they're taking. Personally, of course, Engineers are my least favorite, and, like Saskatchewan, bear the brunt of my completely unwarranted and inexplicable hatred. Although I hate no specific Engineering students, as a whole I find them arrogant, annoying, and I hate those goddamn prestigious red jackets. You aren't a Varsity sports team. Not all H.Kin kids are built, ex-high school Football players (by the way, you actually have to be pretty intelligent to make it there), nor are all Commerce kids are delusional (but, yeah, they all carry those clipboards). And Forestry peeps aren't all tree hugging hippies who hang out on Rec Beach. All of this anyone could tell you, and yet we all make fun of each other using these exact stereotypes, and come to University fully expecting each faculty to (apparently) contain thousands of the same person.
What each Faculty does come with, however, is that same arrogance I hate in Engineers. Everyone boasts they belong to the best strain - Commerce bears it in their clipboards, Engineering in their (ridiculous) red jackets and elitist attitudes, Science by burying their heads relentlessly in text books because they "have to", Arts by (mostly) doing just about nothing academic and dressing with superior style (mostly), H. Kin by religiously attending the church known as "Golds", and Forestry by sailing right under the radar... and not even caring one bit about it.
And that is all absolutely the truth.
Each one comes with a preexisting connotation. You picked Arts, it means you don't know what to do with yourself and are looking to coast. You picked Science, you're a nerd who wants to go to Med school. You picked Engineering, you can drink lots of beer and do lots of math. At the same time. You picked H.Kin, you're lacking brains, but not brawn. You picked Forestry, you're a tree-hugger destined for hippie-ship. You picked Commerce, you're headed down a useless and redundant path, and carry annoying clipboards. There are, of course, other faculties, but these are the ones that get the main attention, and the main stereotyping.
However, no one person from any faculty embodies the stereotype cast upon them by each other faculty. In fact, in my experience, Science kids, although they work their asses off, are not all nerds, and some of them are even as aimless as (gasp) Arts kids. Then there are the Arts students who actually know what they want to do with their lives, and are completely brilliant at whatever they're taking. Personally, of course, Engineers are my least favorite, and, like Saskatchewan, bear the brunt of my completely unwarranted and inexplicable hatred. Although I hate no specific Engineering students, as a whole I find them arrogant, annoying, and I hate those goddamn prestigious red jackets. You aren't a Varsity sports team. Not all H.Kin kids are built, ex-high school Football players (by the way, you actually have to be pretty intelligent to make it there), nor are all Commerce kids are delusional (but, yeah, they all carry those clipboards). And Forestry peeps aren't all tree hugging hippies who hang out on Rec Beach. All of this anyone could tell you, and yet we all make fun of each other using these exact stereotypes, and come to University fully expecting each faculty to (apparently) contain thousands of the same person.
What each Faculty does come with, however, is that same arrogance I hate in Engineers. Everyone boasts they belong to the best strain - Commerce bears it in their clipboards, Engineering in their (ridiculous) red jackets and elitist attitudes, Science by burying their heads relentlessly in text books because they "have to", Arts by (mostly) doing just about nothing academic and dressing with superior style (mostly), H. Kin by religiously attending the church known as "Golds", and Forestry by sailing right under the radar... and not even caring one bit about it.
And that is all absolutely the truth.
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