The best way to waste your life is by taking notes.

Why Sarah loves Rob, the English prof:

• Unlike last term's "just call me Heather" first name English prof fiasco, Rob ironed out the first name issue with "just don't call me shitbag because I'm sensitive, and I'll cry."

• When asked if we could bring anything to our in-class essay (last year Heather allowed us to bring just a pen and paper, no books/notes etc), Rob replied with "Well, you can bring your book. A page, no, two pages of notes. And a dictionary if you want. Just no thesauruses, they make me spaz out. Big words are not the solution."


• Rob takes the time to explain the important things about Catcher in the Rye. "You know, Holden is like a Smurf. And the society around him is those mushroom houses. Wait, no. Society is like an organic home that grows with you, and Holden is too fat to fit."


• [Faint beeping of a backing up truck heard from outside] "What is with all this noise?! Is it an amusement park in here? I CAN YELL TOO YOU KNOW. Man, is anyone else trying to quit smoking?"

The number one reason I love Rob the English prof? When jokingly asked if we can have the questions for this week's test (worth ten percent of our final grade), Rob responds with:

• "Um, well I did get the questions photocopied yesterday. God damn copy ladies and their trickery. Yeah, so pick them up on your way out."

To whom the mornings are like nights, what must the midnights be!

Sarah is feeling super sorry for herself at this moment. It is sucking.

This weekend, with the exception of Saturday night, was featureless. Friday's plans went to hell because of weather and today was spent studying and as mentioned earlier, feeling sorry for myself.

I feel like everyone is figuring out life but I haven't even been given the equation. Everyone seems sure of themselves and more importantly sure of the people around them. I am debating the stability of both.

Saturday night I ventured up to Holly's with cooked chicken dinner (à la Phyllis) and chocolate pie (à la Sobeys). I wasn't expecting much, a night of movies and watching drunk Hatcher residents stumble about. But some how randomly it turned into Holly/Sarah explain themselves night.

We basically had open forum and it didn't end with me mentally gouging Holly's out. Absolutely the opposite, I envisioned hugging and happiness.

Oh, and the boy across the hall offered to find three guys (himself included!) to strip for me. What a kind gesture. The people of Hatcher sure know how to make a girl feel special.

I also met him. Yeah, you all know who I'm talking about. I played Mommy and grilled him, but I must say I didn't do a very good job. His roommate's make-shift gun and target practice had me a little too distracted.

So this week starts with a bland outlook on life. Which is kind of awful because my Monday's determine my whole week. Maybe a little Stephenville flavoured coffee to cheer me up? Let's hope so.

If you want things to stay as they are, things will have to change.

Staying home. On a Friday. When there was a super cool night planned. BLOWS.

Actually it wasn’t that bad, but for now I’ll pretend it was. Tonight Darryl phoned and I got to wish him a happy belated birthday (he turned 28 yesterday!).We both decided that “old” was thirty and I managed to rub in his face like I always do that when he’s old and thirty, I’ll be young and twenty.

He also talked about his new girlfriend and I was happy because. . . It’s a happy thing! She sounds great (read: not like Darryl’s past indiscretions). She has two degrees and a government job, so my mom sees her as a great non-money-grubbing girl. With no dependents. Bonus!

We also discussed my going up there this summer. I have not been all gung ho about that lately, just because with the costs of a flight ($3200 return), rent and food, I probably wouldn’t be making a great deal more than I would here.

But then I remembered that Darryl, unlike my parents, listens when I talk. He views me as intelligent and sees me as a person. So when I say I want to go up, he’ll try to make it happen.

He said that his girlfriend needs a roommate and I could stay with her if she still hadn’t found one in April.

Awkward.

But still, really nice and gooey-feelingesque since Darryl is trying to make this happen for me.

It’s Barbie’s for biking all over again.

Confusion and misconceptions.

Today I spent an hour or so researching top contenders for the 2008 presidential election. Here is why you should never trust Wikipedia.

We cannot despair of humanity, since we are ourselves human beings.

I get a lot flack from my parents and older relatives for my thoughts on younger and older adults. Most of our elders think that "kids" are ungrateful and rude. Maybe not to any great extent, but in a situation where adults are pitted against us, they are right because they are our elders. Everyone reading this I am sure, has experienced ageism at some point.

Yesterday during the big St. John's "storm", people on my street were shoveling their little hearts out. The snow was easily waist deep and the people on the opposite side of our street had even more.

(Oh, this is where I say that earlier this week we got a snow-blower. Yeah, poor my ass.)

My Dad went out in the falling snow along with everyone else and snow-blowed the snow in our driveway. Then he did our neighbours. Then the house next to us. Then the house across the street. My Dad knows what it is like to shovel and this coupled with a new toy made him invincible.

But then of course as we who live in St. John's know, it started to rain. And it was gross.

So my Dad came in and started to take off his boots and stuff. I looked out the window and saw that he had cleared everyone's homes around us except for the students across the street.

Three of them were out in the rain trying to get at least one car cleared out, and man did they have their work cut out for them. They easily had the most snow and the rain was making it heavy and icy.

I told my Dad that if he thought just because they were young they couldn't use the help, he was sadly mistaken. So being the great guilt-tripper I am, my Dad put on his boots again and trudged across the street to clear them out.

About an hour ago the doorbell rang. One of the students from across the street had a thank-you card for my Dad. It said they were extremely grateful and that they were there to help if we ever needed it. They also included $20 which my Dad promptly returned because taking money from University students is like taking from the homeless.

I'd just like to say here that this is just one more example about how age plays no part in the way a person is. My Dad snow-blowed everyone out because he is altruistic, just like those students across the street gave us that card because they appreciate what my Dad did for them (and not one other person he helped made more than the gesture of a passing "thank you", they were all older adults).

The word elder is not synonymous with the word benevolent.

Truth is so rare that it is delightful to tell it.

Over the years I have been made fun of countless times because of my "picky eating". Like it was some sort of choice that I despised most foods. Well I'm here today to educate you!

"A supertaster is an individual who lives in a more intense taste world. Among individuals of European descent [which in the end is us], it is estimated that about 25% of the population are supertasters. The cause of this heightened response is currently unknown, although it is thought to be, at least in part, due to an increased number of fungiform papillae."

Because I am a supertaster this means I:

• Perceive all tastes as more intense than other taster types, particularly bitter tastes
• Tend to be fussy about their food and have strong food likes and dislikes
• Usually don't like coffee, grapefruit, cabbage, Brussels sprouts and spinach
• Have lots of papillae, the tiny bumps on the tongue that contain taste buds

To your left is a supertaster's tongue and to your right a normal persons. You'll notice supertasters have a lot more papillae and they are smaller, where as a normal tongue has fewer and they are a little larger.

I know what you're thinking. "Wow Sarah, I am so sorry for all the times I made fun of you for not liking mayo or mustard, pickles or vinegar, anything spicy or bitter, anything not regular, and especially all those sour one cent candies!"

And it's okay, I forgive you. But now you are educated! Go out and find a supertaster tomorrow and give them a hug. Tell them everything is going to be alright.

If you would like to learn more about this problem that effects thousands of North Americans click here or here.

You can kill a lifetime without feeling anything but skin.

Today before English I sat in the hallway and wrote down everything that was running through my mind on a couple pieces of paper. I had absolutely no intention of posting it on my blog.

But in my nightly perusing of blogs, I stumbled upon Meagan's entry concerning Hero Holiday. It brought me back to what I wrote down today and I guess everything happens for a reason.

So I'm going to put on my blog what I wrote down this afternoon. It is not in response to what Meagan wrote in any way, since I wrote my piece before her. It's not picking on anyone except myself and possibly the society we live in. You might think it's a bunch of bull shit, but I don't really care.

Today I left my toasty home and pulled out of my freshly shoveled driveway, in my car with a half-tank of gas, pulling on my two pairs of mittens as I went.

I drove until I got to the big intersection where I was forced to stop with the rest of the people who were trying to turn left. There at the longest light in St. John's I saw a man sitting on a snow bank on the median.

His head was bowed to shield his face from the snow and he was holding a sign: "Hungry and broke, need work."

What did I do? Ms. I'm-going-to-save-the-world-one-humanitarian-trip-at-a-time? I frigging sat there and stared at him like the rest of the assholes in their toasty cars.

I watched a girl who looked to be about my age sound her horn. He got up and walked right in front of my car, graciously accepting the toonie she offered him. Smiling like it wasn't -10C out.

I watched him walk down the rest of the median in hopes someone else would offer him change. All the while I sat there thinking "I don't have any cash except my parking change."

I watched myself drive away, detaching myself from reality once again thinking "I wish I had some food or something to give him." Like a fruit cup or a granola bar would make any sort of difference.

I thought about the giant storm we had last night and wondered where the hell he slept.

I thought about how I've actually seen him before on the bus and I didn't do anything then either, even though it was obvious he was homeless and I was just one seat away from him.

I drove away thinking. Not doing.

I used to think it was a great idea, to run away to another country and "save the world". I see it now as a great photo-op.

I'm one of those hypocritical assholes who think a quarter in an empty coffee cup is going to make a difference.

I'm one of those assholes who think it's "super" when people do food or clothing drives. I sit there thinking I'm changing the world by donating my box of stuffing and two dollar Wal-Mart mittens.

I'm one of the assholes who drive away.

ap·a·thy (ăp'ə-thē)

n.

1. Lack of interest or concern, especially regarding matters of general importance or appeal; indifference.
2. Lack of emotion or feeling; impassiveness.
   

This is what I use for like 95% of my activities.

For Daveee,

This and this is where I come up with all my Political Science knowledge.

This weekend was absolutely great. Friday was fantastic and super loving. And Saturday? Saturday was super. . . special. A pirates life for me.

Everybody wants to be a superstar.

For Matt, and the rest of the S'ville crew questioning my random choice of conversation topics:

The Issue of Piercings Getting Caught on Tonsils

I put the idea forth that a woman giving. . . fellatio. . . to a man could get a piercing (if he had one in the right spot) caught on her tonsils.

I was convinced that I saw some sort of news article about it. But when I searched and searched I could come up with nothing saying that this ever happened.

But then I found a reference to the movie The Sweetest Thing, in which there is a part in the movie where Selma Blair's character does indeed have this happen to her.

I've seen this movie and confused fact with fiction, oops! Myth buster busted myth one.

Bubble Schools in Iqaluit

I then mentioned the temperature in Iqaluit, and Robert made a comment saying that with the extreme low temperatures (talking to my brother yesterday, he said it was -55C at that moment) the kids could not possibly go to school.

I said this wasn't the case. That there were special bubble schools that were made to protect kids from the elements.

This Sarah myth is. . . TRUE!

This is the school in Iqaluit. Notice the bubbles, lack of windows and elevated foundation. All there because of the ridiculousness which is Iqaluit weather.

Myth buster proves number two true!

A Really Tall Guy in the NBA

I commented on the fact that I thought there was a really tall guy on Orlando's team, like taller than the average basketball player kind of guy.

I thought it was Shaq. It was so who I was talking about. He's 7'1" and 325, yup, he's a beast.

Also found the guy Matt was talking about:


Manute Bol from South Africa. He's 7'7". So I'm not feeling so bad about being six feet.

Myth buster proves it trueee.

So yeah, that was completely pointless but pretty informative. Matt would also like everyone to know he supports the destruction of the kid I mentioned in this post.



Note: The Little Blog that Could does not in any way endorse the stupid opinions of Matt.

It's always a possibility in this day and age.

Sometimes I am so upset to be a member of the human race.

Almost two weeks ago 13 year old Ben Ownby went missing less than five hundred feet from his home after getting off his school bus.

A tip from one of Ben's bus friends (who saw a white truck) led them to the home of Michael Devlin, a manager of a pizza place and part-time funeral home worker. Thankfully, amazingly Ben Ownby was there and he was alive.

That is not it.

They also found another boy. Shawn Hornbeck. He went missing four years ago while he was riding his bike. He's now fifteen. The police had absolutely no idea he was there.

I'm floored when I see something like this. That guy missed out on over four whole years of his life, over 1460 days, over 35000 hours.

I became aware of this story when Oprah had Shawn, his family and Ben Ownby's parents on her show.

As I watched this awkward 15 year old struggle with talking in correct grammatical sentences (he did not attend school at any point during his kidnapping), his head bowed in a combination of embarrassment and shyness saying to Oprah "I don't want to answer that" I felt a flood of absolute pity and disgust at this society we've created.

A lot of people want to know "Why?" Why didn't Shawn pick-up the phone and call his parents or 911? Why didn't he tell his neighbours who we was, or even a friend he had made while kidnapped who asked directly if he was indeed Shawn Hornbeck?

These aren't the whys we should be asking. We should be asking why can't a kid walk from his school bus to his home without worrying about getting abducted? Why does a child have absolutely no help for almost a half a decade, and when he does receive it, it's by accident?

Why are there men like Michael Devlin out there?

Read what the BBC has to say here.

Now tourists come and stare at us.

So today I moved all my stuff down two flights of stairs into my happy new room. :) It is multiple shades of pretty green, I also have a new comforter to match the room, as well as two poles to hang my clothes in my closet which quickly eliminated any problem that was once there with my over abundance of clothes.

I have been unpacking stuff that hasn't been seen since I packed it in Stephenville. I own a lot of unbelievably cool products.

But the best thing about my new room. By far. Is. . .


Reuniting my books! Oh, how they've missed each other! How their Mama has missed them as well. I love life when my books are at my disposal and not cooped up in boxes.

P.S. Meagan, incase you didn't notice this is the Lurlene McDaniel corner:

We shall overcome.

"Now is the time to make real the promises of democracy. Now is the time to rise from the dark and desolate valley of segregation to the sunlit path of racial justice. Now is the time to lift our nation from the quicksands of racial injustice to the solid rock of brotherhood. Now is the time to make justice a reality for all of God's children.

But there is something that I must say to my people who stand on the warm threshold which leads into the palace of justice. In the process of gaining our rightful place we must not be guilty of wrongful deeds. Let us not seek to satisfy our thirst for freedom by drinking from the cup of bitterness and hatred. We must forever conduct our struggle on the high plane of dignity and discipline. We must not allow our creative protest to degenerate into physical violence. Again and again we must rise to the majestic heights of meeting physical force with soul force. The marvelous new militancy which has engulfed the Negro community must not lead us to a distrust of all white people, for many of our white brothers, as evidenced by their presence here today, have come to realize that their destiny is tied up with our destiny. And they have come to realize that their freedom is inextricably bound to our freedom. We cannot walk alone.

Let us not wallow in the valley of despair. I say to you today my friends - so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal."

I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.

I have a dream today.

Let freedom ring. And when this happens, and when we allow freedom to ring - when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God's children - black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics - will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual: "Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!""

These are just mere parts of the greatest political speech of the twentieth century. To see the whole thing click here.

I find it sad when reading/watching this speech, that everything King says can still be used in today's world concerning the wars in Afghanistan and most certainly Iraq. Who is here in today's society to have a dream for us?

It goes to show: one person can change the world.

Martin Luther King Jr.

January 15, 1929 - April 4, 1968

North American for life.

""I think this speech given by this president represents the most dangerous foreign policy blunder in this country since the Vietnam war," said Republican Senator Chuck Hagel.

Senator Richard Durbin said the president was ignoring the advice of the former US commander in Iraq, Gen John Abizaid, that increasing troop numbers would prevent the Iraqis from taking more responsibility for their own future. . ."

What am I greeted with while sipping my morning coffee? The plans of an imbecile. Bush has decided to increase the troops in Iraq by 21, 500.

That's 43, 000 more parents chewing their fingernails as the see on FOX news that another 5 people have been killed in a car bombing (the average age of a recruit is just 21 years of age, 3 years older than most of us).

Countless wives, husbands, siblings and children waiting for the news of what? No, not that the war in Iraq is over and won. The news that their loved one is gone forever, and for what cause? The war in Iraq is no longer a noble way to die in most people's eyes. They view it as the delusional rantings of a man with a plan gone wrong.

I get so frustrated when I see what this man has done. The only way I don't pull out my hair most days is by chanting "2008, Sarah. He can't be in office past 2008." Lately that hasn't been doing its job.

Blood Diamonds.

The days where I was almost at my end.

So Santa, where the heck is winter?

Last night as I was driving home from Meagan's in torrential rain this is the question I asked myself.

I remember Christmas' where you couldn't see out the window because it was so blustery. New Years' where we trudged in waist deep snow to shoot of fire works.

Now not only is there no snow in St. John's, there's crazy ass rain and mild temperatures.

Santa, you have some s'plaining to do.

"Climatologists have predicted 2007 will be the warmest year on record, but Canadians who have been trading their parkas for T-shirts over the past few weeks likely don't need experts to tell them something is up.

Environment Canada senior climatologist David Philips says the weather is gradually becoming warmer but Canadians shouldn't think current conditions herald a new winter reality.

"You can't use this as a forecast; you can't say this is the beginning of balmy winters from now on,'' says Phillips. "I think this is in fact a preview, a dry run of the normal winter that we'll see in 2030, 2040.''"

If you are interested read more here, here and here.

I put this battle in a box, with my military thoughts.

So today my Aunt and I totally hung out and went shopping and stuff, it was way cool. I bought this super nice shirt at Old Navy in a beautiful royal blue colour. We went to all the cool stores I never actually get a chance to go into, it was actually nice.

Aunt Cora made a comment and said she looked like Kelly from the Shoes video. I honestly disagreed with her, until she straightened her hair, put on her glasses and gave me her best Kelly expression. Ohhh man.


So who's claiming migraine and going to bed early? ME.

But I haven't thought of you lately at all.

Just when I think my love for Veronica Mars can't possibly grow anymore, with their Tegan and Sara and Tina Majorino (Can anyone say Corina, Corina? And yes, Napolean Dynamite). They go and play a little Regina Spektor. <3

EVERYONE WATCH IT RIGHT NOW. :)

Freedumb.

Man, PostSecret totally spoke to me this week. Intense.

In other news: Family New Year's dinners rockkk. Two of my mom's sisters were among the guests. (Can anyone guess why everyone calls me Aunt Cora's long lost daughter?)

(For the record, this is Aunt Cora)