Traipsed across the continent.

I had a major meltdown on Friday. And that would be all day Friday, started the day in tears and finished it sniffling and puffy eyed. I took procrastination to a whole new level and left my ENTIRE distance course studying until the day before the midterm. I had close to a hundred pages of notes and nine chapters of text to know for my Saturday morning exam.

I missed Robyn's birthday party and that sucks cause her shindigs always make me lol to the max. You know mine and Robyn's love tale, but since I didn't get to tell her in person I'll say it on here: happy birthday, Ro-yn Mchizzle! It looks like I missed a slammin' good time, jeez, just check out this cake. I'm sad to have not gotten a piece!

I have another midterm on Monday which I'm not nearly as worried about. It's with Professor YouTube, aka the I'M A TRAINED STAGE ACTRESS CAN'T YOU TELL prof from last semester. Nothing from the textbook because girl didn't order enough for the bookstore so no one could read it. Yup, she's still a flake.

Alex and I found this website and have been doing some of the assignments from it when the mood strikes. Yesterday, while it snowed, we ventured out to make a field guide of our yard. Called it quits after a few pictures though because we both agreed that we were probably freaking out the lady downstairs.


P.S. It's my birthday on Saturday! So don't make any Halloween plans because everyone is invited to Salisbury to help me greet a new year, 21 peeps!

Hard to be soft.

In two days I'll be moving two streets down. I'll finally penetrate center city, thus bringing me even closer to campus. Ah-hah, MUN! You thought the increased rent rates of your neighbouring roads would scare me away, but they didn't. Well... the doubling of my rent is somewhat terrifying, but whatever.

I have not packed neither bag nor box. Everything is sitting in the same place it always does (though I did get enough energy to take down the Christmas lights). I'm not worried, I'll throw all my things in garbage bags and pilfered Colemans' boxes tomorrow. The strong and mighty boys will drag my oversize furniture down on Saturday.

So what am I worrying about?

Babies. Babies and the future.

No, I'm not even close to being pregnant. Come on you guys, you know me better than that. But the Being a Grown-up thing is weighing heavily on my mind. What does this have to do with babies? Let me elaborate:

I have seven female cousins, five of which are in their twenties. Of these five, four are pregnant and the one who is not with child is getting married at the end of the year (and already has a kid). Oh, and one of them, my age, is pregnant with twins. Yup, two babies.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't feel the pressure to have kids. If there is one thing my mother taught me it's that SHE DOES NOT WANT GRANDCHILDREN. I know, bizarre in its own right, though that's a whole other tale.

But I definitely feel the pressure of the future. The finishing school, finding jobs, having the right friends and man friend in my life. I should be planning ahead. Problem is I couldn't even tell you what I'm doing in an hour.

I'm moving in with my boyfriend on Saturday. Did you know that? If not, let the shock settle.

...

Good? Moving on. I will be sharing his two (yes, separate living quarters. As I've been telling him (and everyone) roomies first, boyfriend/girlfriend second) bedroom place and to me that is a hugeee leap for Amazonian women everywhere. Or just this Amazon woman right here anyway.

As for school, when this semester is over I will be ten classes away from a degree. Which is more scary than exciting because I am most DEFINITELY required to be an adult with a B.A. stapled to the end of my name. I'm not sure why this is, but society tells me so.

Oh, and to those fuckers out there who are like "wah wah, who cares what society thinks, wah wah": um, well the people who hire you care. And that indirectly affects what kind of place I live in and the life I'll live. And I don't want to be in overpriced two bedroom forever.

This is where my head gets stuck, I don't know how to turn myself into an adult. I don't want to turn myself into an adult! I feel like this is all a charade and any day now someone is going to come along and stick me back on the play mat with my Barbies.

I'm trying to live day to day, really I am, BUT YOU* AREN'T LETTING ME.

So what's a girl to do? Get knocked up apparently. But since that is not the answer for me, I'm going with a heavy dose of ignoring reality (or my perceived reality). And maybe just a little Celexa.



*"YOU" being the collective you of course, society and whatnot are included in the general equation of "YOU"

The act of convincing myself.

MUN is such a funny place. A funny, nerve wracking, panic attack inducing place. I'm willing to guess (for me at least) that it's because it introduces change.

I am very resistant to change. I don't like it AT ALL. I'm a comfortable rut sort of gal.

But in all honesty it can be good. School forces everyone to band together, a team of scholars (ha) desperate to fight the depression and anxiety that is so inevitable in a place like university. It forces you to see people, like the friends you haven't thought about in years. This too is a good thing, because you see them as new people. Cause you are new people... it's inevitable... agreed?

I ran into an old buddy of mine this afternoon, she's all grown up and in her first year now. When she first called out my name in the hall I had that instant heart freeze. I hate pretending I'm friendly. We got to chatting, and I realized that in our time apart we had grown closer. Our interests and experiences jived. How exciting!

What is it I'm trying to say? MUN sucks, yes. But it doesn't have to suck THE BIG ONE. You can make it what you want to make it.

And if that means three night classes and a painfully overpriced stack of textbooks, then so be it. But I'm making sure it also means making old friends new friends, doing the best darn collage I can for Women Studies and actively trying to make the best of a truly shitty deal.

Be with me on this one, eh. I need the frick frackin support.

Sitting at the table doesn't make you a diner.

I cave! I post! Everyone put their guns away.

So the last two weekends I've been a social butterfly and have spent copious amounts of time "partying" and just being in love with everyone around me. Yes you!

I brought my camera to all of these social situations and yet only two pictures were taken. Both of Susan and I at Roberts' party the weekend. And I will not shame us by putting these horrid images on the internet. Liquor and snapshots do not mix.

What have I been up to other than aggravating the misanthrope in me? WELL. HOW ABOUT SCHOOL?!

School is absolutely hating me this year. I have skipped seven of my Deviance classes in a single month. That is how bad this class is. There are too many police studies kids in it. Uniformity at its worst.

But I have yet to skip any other classes which just goes to show how awful this particular class is.

Did anyone go see the candidates debate yesterday on campus? I had class but I really wanted to go because I don't even know who is running for the Green Party in St. John's East.

And did anyone go see DAVID FRICKIN SUZUKI who gave a talk at the A&C yesterday? It was free! Again, I had dumb class. I should have skipped it to see the sexiest Canadian of all time.

Fill me in!

Obama llama duck.

Today was an odd day. Odd because I realized we've been in classes for three weeks now. Three weeks... quick, what have you learned?

I've learned a little about the American Civil Rights Movement. What corrections/prisons were like in Newfoundland in the 19th century. Um, that's about it.

My Intergovernmental Relation in Canada class is HELL. I have not caught on to anything because the prof can only talk about himself. I could tell you lots about his personal life, but absolutely nothing about "class material".

I worked really hard on my History paper tonight so I treated myself to Roman Holiday and a Crispy Crunch bar. Gregory Peck and chocolate... yum.

Dropped a giant glass container of coffee on my foot a little while ago. Since I bruise when I'm simply poked or grazed by a blunt corner, it is safe to say that I will DEFINITELY be having some obscure version of black foot within the next couple days. Pictures to follow.

Life inside a music box ain't easy.

My first semester of university was rough. As was everyone's I guess. We were all trying to adjust to a new school, a new city, a new life. The only comfort I took out of all three of these things was the anonymity.

I could walk around this city for hours and not have one person recognize me. I could attend a weeks worth of classes and not have a single person talk to me in any of them.

I loved it.

A girl I met on the bus while traveling to Stephenville last Christmas told me (three hours after meeting) that I hated people. I was shocked! Everyone tells me how great I am when I first meet a stranger, how I can make an awkward situation happy by asking the right kinds of questions. I am a people person!

This is not true in the least. I am not a people person, in fact, I am a misanthrope. I despise going out with groups of people that I'm not really friends with. I hate the awkward conversations that inevitably ensue when you see a person you haven't talked with in awhile. I can't take the effort that goes into forced conversations (this probably ties in with my inability to bullshit people).

For example (and this is not meant to hurt anyone's feelings), but every single time I come home from a SASF gathering I have a headache. Like a raging one. Every time. I like most of the people that go to these togetherings, but my mind cannot handle the forced "hey, how is school going?", "what are you taking again?", "oh, this is fun.", "we should totally hang out sometime!". I don't care about any of the questions I ask or am forced to answer, but out of politeness and general caring for the people who attend these SASF gatherings I pretend I do. And pretending (aka:bullshitting) gives me migraines. LITERALLY.

My brother constantly makes fun of me for my "hatred of being seen". If the family wants to eat out for dinner, we can't eat at the restaurant but must take it home. No going to the mall unless it's for a specific thing. None of this walking around to kill some time stuff.

I've always been like this. Maybe I really do hate people.

This whole nonsensical post is stemming from the fact that I can't even go FIVE SECONDS on campus anymore without having someone I know/recognize start a conversation with me.

Where did the anonymity of this city go? :(

Third year begins.

I'll show you mine if you show me yours! Post it in the comments, pleaseee. :)

Coxswain.

Let's see.

Yesterday was Friday, aka Regatta day (which for the record, has to be the dumbest holiday EVER), today is Saturday. I have finally managed to distinguish which day of the week it is.

I put my notice in at work yesterday. I have decided that working there during school will kind of conflict with my classes (12pm-5pm MWF, hehe). Basically I am too excited to get back to late nights/mornings. 5:00am wake up calls in the summer, WTF?

Speaking of classes, although I can't change it on Saturdays (because MUN's website doesn't believe in Saturdays?), I have decided to take another MARLAND class this year. :):):)

How you ask? He is offering a new class (for him anyway) this semester!!!! And it's a research/writing class (something I actually need) so it's not like I'm going just for him (I would though). Do you think he'll notice the whole five semesters in a row thing?

Probably, eh.

So I'm going to try and play this down a whole lot since I know there is a certain someone aching to see this movie, but Allison, her roommates and I went to see Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2 last evening. And it was good... really good.

If you read the books and loved them or saw the first movie and loved it, you will love this one... a lot. And if you both read the books and saw the first movie and loved them, you will really love this one... a lot.

That's about as nonchalant as I can get.

States and shark planes.

I spent the whole day cleaning.

I had set aside this day for studying for the impending International Law test I have tomorrow. But I don't have an International Law test tomorrow! Isn't that great?!

Nope.

No. Not at all. Because it was yesterday. When I got to class I threw up in my mouth and then proceeded to fail a university examination for the very first time.

I am date dyslexic.

Hrmm, what else.

I went to a party this weekend with peeps from work! I had a superz blast. I realized this morning though that I lost my necklace...

Lucky for me I took 200+ pictures so I can pretty much pinpoint the second it disappeared.

I've been feeling mucho inspiration from EVERYTHING around me. I've been painting, reading, sewing, writing, knitting, scrapping, drawing and just about everything else you can imagine that allows me to purge creatively.

I made pillow cases, want to see?

Fate up against your will.

There’s so much going on. You’ll find it boring though.

I had a job interview this morning, oy vey.

Realized I had no one to give me a reference for said job. Ask your Mom if she’ll do it for me, kay?

I had my last class with Marland today. I broke down when he walked out. David Cochrane was there as a guest speaker. I posed the true question people wanted to ask: are you and Marland in lusty-political love?

I had a dentist appointment this afternoon and had one of those “Toto, I've a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore” moments. Before sucking and scraping away at my teeth the hygienist handed me a remote and said “go to town!” I didn’t know what I was supposed to go to town with.

He reclined my seat.

There was a television. . . IN THE CEILING.

I tried to play it cool, like, oh yeah, this is the norm, I have several televisions in my ceiling at home. He didn’t buy it, there was too much of a gleam in my eye.

Last day of classes tomorrow. I’m nervous.

I started Swamp Angel. Robyn and Robert, DON’T HATE ME, but I’m kind of enjoying it. More so than Alligator anyway.

I’m starting a book club this summer. You are invited to join, if you don’t I’m going to stalk you until you do the public library for fellow nerds.

Are you okay?

Kisulirijiuvilli?

I sat down yesterday morning and worked out a life plan. Well, a three year plan, which I think is a very good start.

I was worried that it would take me five years to get my degree. This would be because of the fact that I am doing two certificates (Crim and Public Admin) in addition to my major and minor.

But I worked it out that if I did three courses over the next two summers (and don’t fail anything), I will be fine. This is such a relief, you can’t possibly understand.

I have officially decided on Aboriginal Studies as my minor. There was some confusion over a Law minor or a Sociology/Anthropology minor. Not anymore, I am moving ahead!

I know what you are thinking, Aboriginal Studies? It sounds like you want to move back North again. And I realized after much soul-searching (corny, shut up) and THOUGHT that I do. Some shitty things happened while I was up there; I won’t tell you it was a field of daisies. But the positive outweighs the negative by astronomical amounts.

So yeah. Two years of school left. Dumb summer job this year, FINGER’S CROSSED I’ll get an internship next year. Then I make my way back North for a year or two.

I’m not forsaking plans of France or Iceland, not at all. But I’m only going to be twenty-one years old when I graduate. I [hopefully] have years to fulfill all of my many, many plans. I'm actually thinking of doing my Masters overseas, I'll have the money to fund that option after a couple years of Arctic work.

I promise that this isn’t all coming about just because I got my tax refund yesterday... Well, maybe just a little. I probably got more back on my taxes than the average student made working a minimum-wage job here last summer. I’m just saying.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE, HMM?

A lost seafarer, alive.

Three songs I've spent the weekend with: one, two and three. Do you have some to share with me?

I desperately need a tan. Or better yet SUMMER.

Four more classes with Marland. That's it for my entire life, what will I do without him?

I'm taking International Law with Allison this summer. With another hot prof. TRADITION MUST BE KEPT.

There is a test tomorrow on a book I didn't read. I kind of feel guilty about this one, I didn't even try to read it.

Did you get lots of goodies for Easter? I got chocolate eggs with poprocks in them so when you chew them they crackle. My Mom knows me so well.

I've taken up with the Gameboy again.

We're not making fudge.

Dear Allison,

I remember the first time I saw you after I moved to St. John’s. It was almost two years ago, the weekend before classes started. I was at Wal-Mart to buy lots of my favourite pens and loose-leaf in preparation for my very first post-secondary class.

I saw you near the electronics section with your mom. I turned to my Mom and said “that was my friend Allison from music camp. Weird, I haven’t seen her in two years.” You didn’t notice me.

My very first Political Science class happened that Tuesday at three o’clock in the afternoon. I sat by myself.

You came in. You sat on the other side of the room.

I was early, like I had been for all my classes. I waited patiently and debated going over and talking to you.

But I didn’t have to; you came over and sat next to me. “I thought that was Sarah Smith from music camp over here” you said to me.

It was me!

We chatted. You told me you were trying to get into music school and had decided to forego it for a Political Science degree. I told you I had discarded my dream of a life of music as well and was doing general studies.

We bonded.

Then Marland came in and thus began my life with him. By the end of that semester I knew I would have to do a Political Science degree as well. He made me want to immerse my life in opinion research and political scandals.

Sometimes I wonder, Allison, how much of a role you played in my becoming a political scientist.

Would I have crushed on Marland’s black tweed coat and sexy blue eyes as much if you hadn’t had been there to giggle with me? Would wedge issues, Diefenbaker and minority governments make any sense without you? How many messages have you received over the past two years with a screaming “ALLISONNN” followed up by one political inquiry or another?

In light of our very first collaborative Political Science presentation tomorrow, I thought I would write this and say: thank you for not killing me, Allison. A lesser person would have surely blocked and deleted me long ago. I promise to thank you in my inevitable politics related books as well.

WE’RE GOING TO ROCK TOMORROW, FUDGE OR NO FUDGE.

Yours in political (and Marland) love,
Sarah :)

Thankfully, here, it's the Bloc.

What do you get when you put four Newfoundlanders together and tell them to write a ten thousand word essay on the Bloc Quebecois?

A mess is what you get. A sad and pathetic mess.

We might be Political Science majors, but none of us have ever lived in Quebec. We don’t speak fluent French. And we definitely do not support separatism (unless it was Newfoundland doing the separating).

We think Gilles Duceppe is scary. That having a population density of 4750.8 people per square kilometre is incomprehensible. And that a poutine with Celine Dion’s face on the side is our best option for passing the class.

By the end of this we’ll cry for mercy. And the class can go suck a you-know-what if they plan on tearing apart our presentation like they did that aboriginal’s group.

AT LEAST WE DIDN’T PICK A WHITE MALE RUNNING FOR THE LIBERAL PARTY YOU LAZY KEENERS.

I am worried. I am not finished. And I am not baking cookies.

I choo choo choose you.

I bought my Valentines yesterday.

I know that I still have three weeks to go. But when I saw these Valentines I knew they would be the perfect ones to convey my love to you.

Want one?

School was closed today until one. I had one class at two. My road didn’t get plowed until four. I’m sure you can do the math.

The squid and the whale.

I was assaulted by the cold air as I came out of the Chem building this afternoon. Instead of stopping to zip up my coat and pull on my hood, I did it as I scurried out the door and approached the steps.

At the very first step I slipped.

My hands, up in the air from adjusting my hood, began to flail. It was going to be a bad fall as the remaining steps were concrete. It all happened in about one second but I thought about a lot of things in this one second.

Two extremely strong and very welcomed arms encompassed me. Pretty much lifting me into the air, these mysterious arms didn’t so much as make a murmur as he took on the entirety of my body (flailing arms included).

“That was a close one” my mysterious rescuer said from behind me.

I looked back, his arms still around me, and stared at Rescuer’s sunglass covered eyes. “That,” I said “was a close one.”

The comforting moment ended and soon moved into that inevitable awkward one.

I stood straight and brushed the invisible dust from my coat. I gave a smile and Rescuer returned it with a beautiful one of his own.

Taking my minuscule amount of dignity as well as my unreasonably beating heart, I started down the stairs again.

I had walked a few seconds before I realized that I hadn’t thanked Rescuer. I turned around to do so but in true romance novel fashion, he was nowhere to be seen.

I must push my barrow all the day.

I got up this morning on time. Showered, put on my face and clipped my bangs back. I had my standard bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios and the normal glass of orange juice.

Met Robyn and got on the bus (route 15). The bus was late.

The late bus made us decide to skip our first class (which we attend together along with Robert) and sit in the student loft instead. I texted Robert out of courtesy and told him we wouldn’t be coming. He texted back that he wouldn’t be either.

After a half an hour on campus I decided it was enough. I got back on the bus (route 16) and skipped the rest of my classes for the day.

Came home and played the accordion. Lit my Christmas lights and incense.

Happy Martin Luther King Day.

Gobbledygook.

Marland came up to our group in class today and asked “how is everything going over here?” We were a group of three (myself, Allison and another girl named Lesley). Earlier in the class he had asked three peopled groups to disband so everyone could be in a four person cluster.

“Well,” I started “we’re pretty happy together, so we won’t be disbanding. But if you want to stick someone else with us that’s fine.” He looked a little relieved. “Actually, there’s this guy up there,” he pointed behind him to the front of the class “and this is his first day. He seems to be pretty knowledgeable, would you mind if he joined your group?” he asked, adding “If it wouldn’t be awkward.”

We all agreed it would be fine and he gestured for the new guy to come back and join us. We began to see why it could be awkward.

This giant of a man came back, squeezing into one of the lecture seats. I took note of his greying hair and pegged him to be around forty years-old.

“Hi,” he said “I’m Bob.”

Seriously. He’s Bob.

We made introductions and chatted the normal Poli Sci chat when Bob asked something along the lines “so basically we’re running a thirty-six day campaign for a Canadian celebrity?” Happy that he had caught on so fast, we all nodded and made little murmurs of agreement.

Bob chuckled. “That’s great,” he said with a smirk “I’ve run a couple federal campaigns in the past so this should be easy.”

. . .

After exchanging e-mails and agreeing that we would run Celine Dion for the Bloc Quebecois, Bob said “I’ll send you guys some promotional pieces that I’ve worked on. I have a lot of campaign materials and stuff if you guys don’t mind…?” he trailed off.

Oh, Bob. We don’t mind.

[pumps fist into air in most noobesque fashion]

Karma police arrest this man.

I believe that karma is a bitch. A mean-spirited, asshole, ridiculous kind of bitch.

Anyone who stepped foot on campus this year or picked up a copy of The Muse has heard of the group “MUN for Life”.

They have been whining all frigging semester about their right to ratification by the MUNSU. MUN for Life’s view is that abortion is wrong and to gain ratification on campus would enable them to receive funding from the university.

Now I think that everyone has their own right to believe in whatever they want, as long as they can justify it. It isn’t anyone else’s place to judge or condemn another person.

But I have to say, I instantly took a dislike to this group. Maybe it was their scary looking president. Maybe it’s the fact that The Muse printed article after article after article about what a little bitch he was being about the MUNSU’s decision to deny the group ratification. Maybe it’s because yogurt boy is a predominant member of the group. Who knows why, but I did!

And this all leads to one thing: DON’T PISS OFF THE LIBERAL MUN STUDENTS CAUSE THEY WILL FIND YOU AND THEY WILL MAKE YOU PAY.

The CBC aired a really disturbing story this week about a landlord housing some people who are receiving psychiatric help. Apparently, the conditions are just outrageous including a stint of almost two weeks where the water was shut off because of a leak instead of just fixing it. Read the story here.

And of course the landlord is none other than the president of the MUN for Life society. JUSTICE IS SERVED.

Now I have no proof that anyone from the MUNSU or even the university played any part in getting this story to air on the CBC. But a great way to nip a conservative’s rantings in the bud? Catch him in the act of something good and nasty and tell everyone you know.

Hopefully all this new found attention will knock the piss and vinegar out of this guy. I’m sick of him making Christians look like a bunch of retards on campus.

Decession.

For my distance class, the prof leaves discussion points or whatever on a message board to simulate a classroom setting. Except he can't spell. Or use correct grammar. Or figure out how punctuation works. It is ridiculous.

And for the record I checked to see where he was from (who knows, maybe English is his second language), and he has degrees from MUN and Manchester University in England. Where I think it's safe to say that they speak English.

A small excerpt:

"Lets start with a brief review of stoessingers book "Why Nations go to war. This book differs from most books on war in that most books about the causes of way look at things like religion, economic and other reresources, politics, or a combination of these, as a cause of way. And there is certainly no doubt that these play a major role in why nations go to war. However the text takes a different track. Stoessinger pointas out that while these are important - in the end it is still the leaders of any given nation that must in the end make a decession to go to war and so they must share some of the balme. And he looks at certain individual leaders, and more specifically at their chacteracter flaws. and throughout the book he gives a numbers of case studies to prove his point."

At least I don't have to worry about spelling or phrasing when I'm writing my essay tonight. HE WON'T KNOW THE DIFFERENCE.

P.S. I am now this far in that game I mentioned, helpsies please!