a little musing, a little philosophizing, a little ranting, a whole lot of nothing, really.

Monday, September 29, 2003

Tamara and Meghan: Life Counsellors Inc.

Yes a joke, but I'm starting to think that I'm needed, with my meddling ways. I made someone happy and they are going to wreck it. What do I do? Tell them not to make their own decisions? Because they would listen, and everything. I feel little. I feel tired. I feel thrown into this university life, which I like, but I miss my old life. I miss hanging out with people who know me almost inside out, and who I trust with anything. People I can say anything to. People who I can HUG. That's what I need. A big, long, friggin' hug. And a good chat that isn't over the phone or the internet.

I'm happy, but I'm less happy than I was this summer. Argh. We all should have gone to the same University. And lived in a big mattress house. And owned mopeds... and sold drugs for our money... and sang and DANCED danced danced. I learned so much from them. And I continue to do so from four hours away. I LOVE YOU!

Thursday, September 25, 2003

I hate quizzes, but this seemed appropriate.

My inner child is six years old today

My inner child is six years old!


Look what I can do! I can walk, I can run, I can
read! I like to do stuff, and there's a whole
big world out there to do it in. Just so long
as I can take my blankie and my Mommy and my
three best friends with me, of course.


How Old is Your Inner Child?
brought to you by Quizilla

Split ends...

I just had my first big University project... 20%. Hope it went well. I am tired and cranky, and going home tomorrow to visit poor AR and my lovely mom. M is buying us pizza tonight, his treat. Yay! My apartment is reasonably clean, I am no longer behind (but I will be next week, after going home...), and I am going to see ES and JS tomorrow. I gave up on the stupid one... (what was I thinking?), and I miss everyone still. Right.

Wednesday, September 24, 2003

Today I made someone's day. With a simple compliment. There is a girl in my class who was very stressed. She has the fabulous, unique face. I think she is absolutely gorgeous. So I told her. "F, you are so beautiful!" She was kind of shocked... but I could tell she was pleased.

I just let myself blurt it out, otherwise I would never do that. For fear of sounding like a lesbian, or something, isn't that ridiculous? Now there's something to fear...

Say what you think. Don't keep great things to yourself. I know I love to be complimented. I felt better after making her feel better. It's good for everyone. And the world would be such a better place if we were all just nice to each other. People have good taste, nice laughs, soothing voices, calming presences, catchy exuberance. Let them know. I think the world suffers from low self-esteem. We can fix that.

And don't drink raspberry beer. It's not as good as it sounds.

And do your dishes.

And dance.

And smile, or laugh out loud when you think of something funny.

AND STOP PROCRASTINATING!

Le bis

FRIENDS!!! I have some friends!! In Montreal! I have people whose cheeks I can kiss when I see them (I love this greeting so much, I'm going to terrify people when I go home!).We can go out together. Chat. Listen. Talk "intellectual". Of course it isn't the same, but it's a damn good start.

WORK! I hate it! Even though I am interested in the classes, I much prefer going out when invited, not chilling at home to Early Asian Theatre grooves and memorizing theatre terms. Procrastinating is too common with me. Sleeping in is too common with me. Getting in trouble with my superintendant is now common with me. (Apparently my balcony isn't MY balcony. So I can't have sidewalk chalk plants. Fine. Whatever. Stifle my creativity. Make me sit in a dull balcony. I think it made the whole building look better.)

MONTREAL!!! I LOVE IT! Bars with craft nights, gorgeous theatres, perfect campuses, downtown life. Two million people (lots of crazies... not so great). Public transportation (YAY METRO!). Vocalz will forever be in my memory. My big apartment. Walking, great walks. Culture! Les bis!! Perhaps my new favourite thing!

MONEY! I have little! It's scary. And a roommate who likes to borrow, and cabs which are tres cher, and metro which gets steep. And alcohol. For some reason every event almost has had alcohol. I only have twenty dollars for food next week, as I spent half of next week's budget on my friends. It was worth it.

Things are okay again. It's up and down. But I will make it, even if I still want to hop in a time machine from time to time and head back to Bayside for the easy life of soap operas and adventures. Whoo!

Sunday, September 21, 2003

My incredible weekend/Why do people...?


Having your friends over to your new apartment proves to be very loud... especially when alcohol becomes a factor. But I had an incredible time, despite the drunkeness. Karaoke is quite entertaining without the alcohol. Plus there was dancing... I miss them even more now.

Now. A rant. I love people. I love helping people. I did something reasonably good for a friend, helped them get out of a stupid situation, and find betterness (I'm tired, so that's a word). So, they are happy. They come along willingly and enjoy the funness (another new word) that our group has to offer.

Now we have another friend. Great person. Kind of in a funny place right now. Kind of... desiring something new.

Put them together. Get a stupid, awful situation that disappoints me immensely. And will end up bad for the both of them, if it continues.

Makes me really mad. Makes me not feel like a happy camper. And knowing that it's none of my business while it's completely wrong is pretty frustrating too. I just want to fix the world, and feel good about knowing I helped someone. Not letting them get into another stupid situation that will be bad for both. I just want to be a good friend, and make what I know is right happen. I hope this was just a one weekend thing...

Wednesday, September 17, 2003

(FROM THE PITTSBURGHPOST-GAZETTE)

You live next door to a clean-cut, quiet guy. He never plays loud music. He politely offers you some tomatoes. His lawn is cared-for, his house is neat as a pin and you get the feeling he doesn't always lock his front door. He wears Dockers. You hardly know he's there. And then one day you discover that he has pot in his basement, spends his weekends at peace marches and that guy you've seen mowing the yard is his spouse.

Allow me to introduce Canada. The Canadians are so quiet that you may have forgotten they're up there, but they've been busy doing some surprising things. It's like discovering that the mice you are dimly aware of in your attic have been building an espresso machine.

Did you realize, for example, that our reliable little tag-along brother never joined the Coalition of the Willing? Canada wasn't willing, as it turns out, to join the fun in Iraq. I can only assume American diner menus weren't angrily changed to include "freedom bacon," because nobody here eats the stuff anyway.

And then there's the wild drug situation: Canadian doctors are authorized to dispense medical marijuana. Parliament is considering legislation that would not exactly legalize marijuana possession, as you may have heard, but would reduce the penalty for possession of under 15 grams to a fine, like a speeding ticket. This is to allow law enforcement to concentrate resources on traffickers; if your garden is full of wasps, it's smarter to go for the nest rather than trying to swat every individual bug. Or, in the United States, bong.

Now, here's the part that I, as an American, can't understand. These poor benighted pinkos are doing everything wrong. They have a drug problem: Marijuana offences have doubled since 1991. And Canada has strict gun control laws, which means that the criminals must all be heavily armed, the law-abiding civilians helpless and the government on the verge of a massive confiscation campaign. (The laws have been in place since the '70s, but I'm sure the government will get around to the confiscation eventually.) They don't even have a death penalty! And yet .. nationally, overall crime in Canada has been declining since 1991. Violent crimes fell 13 percent in 2002.

Of course, there are still crimes committed with guns -- brought in from the United States, which has become the major illegal weapons supplier for all of North America-- but my theory is that the surge in pot-smoking has rendered most criminals too relaxed to commit violent crimes. They're probably more focused on shoplifting boxes of Ho-Hos from convenience stores.

And then there's the most reckless move of all: Just last month, Canada decided to allow and recognize same-sex marriages. Merciful moose, what can they be thinking? Will there be married Mounties (they always get their man!)? Dudley Do-Right was sweet on Nell, not Mel! We must be the only ones who really care about families. Not enough to make sure they all have health insurance, of course, but more than those libertines up north.

This sort of behaviour is a clear and present danger to all our stereotypes about Canada. It's supposed to be a cold, wholesome country of polite, beer-drinking hockey players, not founded by freedom-fighters in a bloody revolution but quietly assembled by loyalists and royalists more interested in order and good government than liberty and independence. But if we are the rugged individualists, why do we spend so much of our time trying to get everyone to march in lockstep?

And if Canadians are so reserved and moderate, why are they so progressive about letting people do what they want to? Canadians are, as a nation, less religious than we are, according to polls. As a result, Canada's government isn't influenced by large, well-organized religious groups and thus has more in common with those of Scandinavia than those of the United States, or, say, Iran. Canada signed the Kyoto global warming treaty, lets 19-year-olds drink, has more of its population living in urban areas and accepts more immigrants per capita than the United States. These are all things we've been told will wreck our society. But I guess Canadians are different, because theirs seems oddly sound. Like teenagers, we fiercely idolize individual freedom but really demand that everyone be the same. But the Canadians seem more adult -- more secure. They aren't afraid of foreigners. They aren't afraid of homosexuality. Most of all, they're not afraid of each other.

I wonder if America will ever be that cool.

Sunday, September 14, 2003

There's only so much about Greek Theatre that you can read before you start to go blind and quote Great Big Sea, and start thinking about Friday, and start thinking about next Friday. Why is school work so difficult for me, when finally, FINALLY, it's something that interests me? I enjoy the class, discussing, looking at the slides. Why do I leave EVERYTHING to the last minute? Why am I typing this, instead of studying theatre history?

At least the class is big enough that I can screw myself over and not get caught...

Saturday, September 13, 2003

My roommate threw a party...

And didn't tell me it was happening. He called it a "little get-together". Twentyish people isn't that little. I learned a lot about university tonight:

-University girls are skanks... (well a great percentage)
-Americans really are quite stupid.
-There are eight bones in the human wrist
-drinking parties are fun, until the cool people leave
-I don't like having only my name on the lease
-University girls are SKANKS... (seems to be sticking out...)

I had an okay time. I just hope I don't get evicted. I met some really cool people. I also met some people who shouldn't be allowed to exist... I worried about my neighbours, and my belongings.

Thursday, September 11, 2003

Art, development, and me...

Have you done something you always do, then go "why did I just do that?" When a show ends, and we bang our hands together like penguins, why? When we are nervous, or mess up, we giggle, why? When someone is sad we hug them... why? I have this class, four hours long, that gets my 'creative juices flowing' (what an awful, awful expression). It makes me question everything I do, everything I see, and try to destroy some of the subjectivity that takes over my every day.

The world is a ridiculous place, when you think about it. We just go along, worrying about what we are wearing, what people think of us, who likes who, what are we going to read next, passing glances at the depressing news that surrounds us. We like people, hate people.

What if theatre and art really do have the power to save the world? Why do we look at a painting for thirty seconds before passing it by, pretending we appreciate the hours of labour, the energy, the creativity, the love, the person that went into it? Why do we leave a theatre, and think "that was good", leaving it at that? Why are we pleased by TV shows and films that barely scratch the surface of what is real, of who we are, of what we want? Why do we let ourselves get away with "I know what I like, and I don't like that" without considering that? We can't judge art after looking at it for 10 seconds. It is impossible. I now actually listen to hip hop or rap before saying "ick". Sometimes, with consideration, I realize that it isn't actually ick.

We are trained and socialized to see things in a certain way. We sure are missing out.

Tuesday, September 09, 2003

And the dishes... aren't done...

I'm not a neat freak. Not even close. My room has always been a disaster, I get distracted and leave messes... but not for SEVEN DAYS. I'm going crazy!

Do you know what I hate, hate hate? At the comedy club last night, two black comedians made jokes that were racist... towards black people. And people laughed. If a white person had made those jokes, they would have been in trouble. The one female comedian thought it would be funny to end off her time talking about giving blowjobs. I have an idea... use your stage time to empower the females in the mostly male audience, don't leave them thinking that the only way to "land a man" is to randomly give head. Right.

I also hate being in my own apartment, alone. Not knowing anyone well enough to call them up, to hang out. I miss the familiar comfort levels of my high school friends. I even miss the soap operas a little. I miss the randomness. I miss people not needing alcohol to have a great time, and if alcohol was involved, being comfortable that nothing too awful would happen. I cherish all these friendships, and will work my ass off, if that is required, to keep most of them.

I want to have something even slightly similar here, in my new home. I wish I had gone to a school where I knew someone going in. That would have been smart. Cosmopolite. That's what I keep telling myself. "Cosmopolite, cosmopolite, cosmopolite". I will be one hip chick. If only I weren't so shy.

Sunday, September 07, 2003

A new week...

I am back at school. Had a wonderful weekend at home, I didn't really want to leave. I love my friends so much. They are all marvelous people, and I am very lucky to know them. Had some very good chats. Learned some very interesting stuff. Things are okay.

Thursday, September 04, 2003

Lonely

My classes are fabulous. Exactly what I want. But GOD I miss people. I forget how to make friends. It's weird.

Wednesday, September 03, 2003

C'est interessant...

I was complaining to people last night about not making new friends (bear in mind it was my FIRST DAY at University, what did I expect...). Then, I go to bed, and Maxime comes home with two super awesome people who we stay up pretty much all night with... who I make KD for at 3:30 am... things will be okay.

I still miss all my people from Bayside. More than I can possible describe. I know how lucky I was to have them, and I know that I will make the effort to remain friends with them for as long as I possibly can. Hopefully until I die. I have met people who have NONE of their high school friends. I have met people who have kept pretty much all of them. Please let me be the latter!

God, life is weird.