| ..march ninth, two-thousand four... ...back in my sphere of comfort and bliss... As I venture through the library with my trusty Eva under one arm and my fabulous Starbucks tea in hand, my flip flops noisily slapping against the ugly carpet of this dull building� I can not describe how good it is to be home. I realize that an immense length of time has passed since I last posted, and for this, I apologize� especially being as said action requires that this current post be even longer. It has been a long, yet incredibly wonderful week� beginning a week ago as I trekked down the street to Alex�s house at twenty after three in the morning; long before the crack of dawn. The group of us slept, rather uncomfortably, all the way to Toronto, and managed to be slightly more conversational from Toronto to Ottawa. The day was a write-off, as our lengthy Greyhound adventure left us ridiculously tired� it was a difficult trek to the LCBO! *laughs* In all, it was a week of global political debate, solving the world�s problems by day and creating our own drunken debauchery by night. Glorious! We Western students proved that we never fail to contribute; as we dominated both in session and in our partying abilities. Andie said it best at the closing ceremonies �We are aware that we have the most inappropriate tales� anyone interesting in transferring�?� As deliciously enticing as this sounds; I fear that these gorgeous affairs will be kept in a secret spot in my own mental expanse. Saturday I remained in Ottawa for some quality Lea/Meg time. As much as I tried to convince the girl to just drink; my warnings went unheeded, resulting in the complete uselessness of both Meghan and Stephen. Stephen whom I was successful in cutting off (so that we might actually make it out to the bar) until Trevor boasted �No one cuts off my boy!� and proceeded to fill Stephen in on where I had hid his beloved Canadian Club and that I had actually been filling his drinks with pure Coke. Trev left for hockey, and therefore, I was left to take care of Drunky McDrunk and his beautiful girlfriend who was so enraged by the drunken stupor of her darling boyfriend that she proceeded to down an enormous quantity of shots. Upon the return of Trevor; he and Mike ate and drank and watched TV. I was left to sober up in a hurry to care for both Stephen, who at least made it to passing out before Meghan hit her peak, and the fabulous Meghan as well. So, Greg and I cared for Meghan� Brother Greg was so incredibly helpful; I know not how I could manage holding the girl up on her own� though I did spend a great deal of time yelling at her. She�s the only friend that I can totally ream out and know that she understands my anger and doesn�t take offense to it. I wasn�t angry that she was drunk, but that she was being ridiculous� Brother told her the same. Then I yelled at Trevor for being an idiot and blamed him for the fact that the first time I had seen Meghan in months was tarnished because he had to be an absolute moron and prevent me from cutting off Stephen. So our grand plans for a night on the town resulted in Meghan reaching out to me with her pukey hand while I held her hair back and whispered sweet nothings in her ear while she threw up for over two hours. Oh joy oh bliss. The next morning as we were making our way back to Carleton and to the bus station, we received enormous amounts of love from passersby as we held hands and as I put chapstick on Meggie as she rested her aching head on my lap while waiting for the bus to come. We�ve decided that since the entire city of Ottawa believes we�re lesbians (including an often skeptical Stephen) then we�re going to get married at the age of fifty if we happen to still be single at that time� since then we wouldn�t have to be alone. This is after Meghan asked me to be her Maid of Honor� *laughs*. I wish that Saturday night hadn�t been such a bust; but I love Meg, so it�s okay that we spent the night in the bathroom, me with my tears of anger from the boys� idiocy and worry for my friend; and the fact that I can not stomach vomit but had to clean out the puke-clogged sink� the things I do for you Meg! Then the boys asking why I wasn�t drunk� I was so incredibly mad� retorting back that someone had to take care of Meg and Stephen since they obviously couldn�t care for themselves and they didn�t help the situation any at all� However, I feel so loved to have received various messages and e-mails from y�all proclaiming your incredible love for me and stating that y�all have missed me incredibly. I have missed you as well� and as much as I hate to be back in classes� I am glad to resume my place in the Western bubble. Love you! *kiss kiss* You may be on the right track, but if you just sit there you'll get run over. -- Paul H. Dunn |
...thursday, march eleventh, two-thousand four... ...snow and flip-flops do not mix.... Here I sit; staring out the window of Talbot College, begging the wet snow to quit falling upon my happy little universe. I have so much more of this essay to write, and yet, I can not find the willpower to do so. I am so unmotivated, it bothers me. Instead of working, I find myself in a constant dream world. A world of constant summer, of sand between my toes and the smell of omnipresent sunscreen; the sun shining through my shades, a good book in my hands. I am aware that it is imperative that I wake up and pay attention to the ever changing world around me with it�s hustle and bustle of schoolwork, the year drawing to a rapid close� and yet� I just cannot bring myself to do so. I try and block my daydreams off by sitting in Weldon with its dreary prison-like feel; however, that only provokes me further to think of nicer places and better times. I want to be happy now; but it is not possible. The heavy load of essays and work prohibit me from thoroughly enjoying my days because every wonderful conversation I have, every time I pause to ponder the outside world, every possible distraction I seek� all remind me that I should be doing other things. *sigh* This lack of productivity is killing me; especially since this is always when I get my most creative and exciting ideas� when I have no time to act upon them. |
| ...sunday, march fourteenth, two-thousand four... ...happy happy joy joy... Today has been one of my happiest days all week; for some reason I just could not stop singing to myself and giggling. Ang and Paul were making fun of me at lunch because I was so happy singing and coloring (we were at Jack Astors, hence, coloring on the table). I sure did crank out my IR essay in true procrastinating fashion. I finished it at about 4:30, handed it in before five. It is genius. This weekend wasn't overly stimulating, worked quite a bit for the first time in ever... saved Lynds from the library last night to have dessert... Ang has been down with Paul to visit two days this weekend; and they are returning again Wednesday. I love not being alone. *smiles* Maybe that's the reason for my complete and utter bliss. Oh, and my computer is better again... she was a little under the weather; having heart palpitations. It's so pathetic how I realize my dependence on this gorgeous machine after being without her... I have turned to reading actual books (since I could not look information for essays up on the internet). I stumbled across my Plath books... a pleasant reminder of my youth... *sigh*. I went through this stage, where everything was depressing and I loved it. I loved the Sylvia Plath, the chick bitch rock (which I also listened to today), I wrote a lot of poetry... very unpleasant poetry... *sigh*. I've grown up. Now I see beauty in everything; a song lyric, the rain, the sky, fabulous conversation, smiles (especially those of young children)... oh man I've grown into such a sap! However, I have gotten more and more annoyed with shallowness. These girls and their... "oh, well let me take of my Burberry scarf, dig into my Louis Vuitton purse, grab lipchap from my Gucci jeans, take off my Ugg boots..." None of these people have what they do because THEY like it... but because it's "cool". And Uggs, are ugly. There was a girl last night wearing legwarmers over her jeans. With golf cleats. She looked ridiculous. And her and her high-end friends were making fun of the sweet classic rock karoke emitted by the wonderful crowd at Christina's. I was not impressed... I love Christina's... and classic rock... and karoke... Anyways, moving on... I have to go and finish up the last Astronomy lab of the year... (hoorah for no more labs)... it's on galaxies and star clusters. *smiles* I will miss this class for sure... Dr. Gray and his crazy antics! Well, love y'all... *hugs and kisses*...I will leave you with a poem: Mirror I am silver and exact, I have no preconceptions. Whatever I see I swallow immediately Just as it is, unmisted by love or dislike. I am not cruel, only truthful -- The eye of a little god, four-cornered. Most of the time I meditate on the opposite wall. It is pink, with speckles. I have looked at it so long I think it is a part of my heart. But it flickers. Faces and darkness separate us over and over. Now I am a lake. A woman bends over me, Searching my reaches for what she really is. Then she turns to those liars, the candles or the moon. I see her back, and reflect it faithfully. She rewards me with tears and an agitation of hands. I am important to her. She comes and goes. Each morning it is her face that replaces the darkness. In me she has drowned a young girl, and in me an old woman Rises toward her day after day, like a terrible fish. Sylvia Plath |
...monday, march fifteen, two-thousand four... ...never is a promise... Today has been yet another good day; and I imagine it can only get better. I slept in until the glorious hour of twelve (I love Mondays!), showered, hung around for awhile in my towel while organizing my day, then got dressed, slipped on the flip flops, grabbed my musical companion and walked to class. It's so gorgeous outside... the snow is nearly gone (again) and things are beginning to bud; the world is waking up from its long winter nap. I went to the library, had a chat with Yuan and Courtney, took out more books so I can work on this Canadian paper and began my trek home. I had to throw on my sunglasses due to the intense brightness of the sun and with the Weezer playing from my discman... I couldn't have been happier. El Scorcho was playing; which took me back to the three-pitch tournament in the final year of highschool... the bright sun, laying on the grass between games with Ruben trying to get in my clothes, giggling and swatting him away, Nic and Dar on stage singing for the boys... I was off in my own little reminiscent dreamworld until I came across the house with the big "Free Martha!" banner in the window... then I just laughed all the way home. The world is such a happy place today. And Keston's coming over tonight, I miss that boy... I'm excited to see him, and watch some Sex... *sigh* Oh, and also, take a look at this. As well, I commend the decision of Spain to pull out of Iraq. The situation in Iraq in itself is something that has caused a lot of pressure on countries to act; especially being led by the United States and the United Kingdom. I agree whole-heartedly with Mr. Zapatero that the US and the UK ought to "engage in some self-criticism" over their decision to invade Iraq... instead of merely taking what has come from that (mistaken) decision and changing it to suit their needs; attempting to make people forget about their reasons and failure to live up to those reasons. I'm also in favor of his "grand international alliance against terror and an end to 'unilateral wars'," because, as stated beautifully by Will, "If we are to condemn terrorism and authoritarian rule, we must do it always, and everywhere. No matter who is responsible for it or invested in it." Are you wishing to argue with me Marcos? Needless to say, this sickens me. Children are not expendable; our future is not expendable. This has been an issue for a long, long time; however, I bring it up now (not that it's of any greater importance, since it's always been important) because there is a rumor circulating about the possibility of lowering the recruitable age to 16 in America. With blind eyes, which sixteen year old is going to choose being locked up in the prisonous walls of highschool over being paid to be in the army? This is an issue that should be dealt with by raising the recruitable age of soldiers in other countries instead of lowering them in our own. Why is the world so backwards? Oh right... because we're at war and losing our non-expendable forces. *shakes head* Go here. Anyway, I have to run and throw in some laundry and clean up this joint so that I'm not ashamed for other people to be here. My room is a growing disaster. Je t'aime, et au revoir. *kiss kiss* Today I'm leaving you with another poem... one of my favorites. IF If you can keep your head when all about you Are losing theirs and blaming it on you, If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you But make allowance for their doubting too, If you can wait and not be tired by waiting, Or being lied about, don't deal in lies, Or being hated, don't give way to hating, And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise: If you can dream--and not make dreams your master, If you can think--and not make thoughts your aim; If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster And treat those two impostors just the same; If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools, Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken, And stoop and build 'em up with worn-out tools: If you can make one heap of all your winnings And risk it all on one turn of pitch-and-toss, And lose, and start again at your beginnings And never breath a word about your loss; If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on!" If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue, Or walk with kings--nor lose the common touch, If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you; If all men count with you, but none too much, If you can fill the unforgiving minute With sixty seconds' worth of distance run, Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it, And--which is more--you'll be a Man, my son! Rudyard Kipling |
| ...wednesday, march seventeen, two-thousand four... Of all the flowers you plucked if only You knew the reason Why you had to each be lonely Was it just the season? Norah Jones, Shoot the Moon ...another one of those days... Happy St. Patrick's Day. *sigh* This little Irish girl is sitting at home, sadly procrastinating. I would love to be out... but alas, I actually went to class today unlike my Latvian counterpart, causing me to be left behind in the celebratory drunkeness. Not that I mind, I have far better things to do... as much as Lance tells me I have officially discraced my culture. *laughs* There are enough non-Irish people out there drinking for me. However, I am left in one of those nostalgic moods... in which I am thoughtful and yet would like to turn off my brain and just relax... I crave companionship, but not the rowdy drunken companionship today brings... quiet comfort would be beautiful. Maybe it's just me, maybe it's the Baileys and Butterscotch Schnopps, maybe it's the Radiohead and Fiona Apple and Norah Jones... *shrugs* Some of you might find this interesting. On a related note. we had this Ph.D. Candidate come talk to us last night in International Relations. The Topic? "The War in Iraq -- Legal?" The Speaker? Brian Gray. I actually closed up my laptop and took a break from editing Andrew's Political Theory paper to listen... and I'm incredibly thankful that I did... he was a fantastic speaker. The thing that he stressed most was that the war was "only sort of about WMD's and only sort of about oil..." On August 15, 1991 UNSCR 707 was passed, mandating that Iraq provide, without further delay, full final and complete disclosures of its proscribed weapons and programmes, as required by the First Gulf War ceasefire resolution UNSCR 687 (1991). On July 1, 1995; as a result of UNSCOM's investigations and in light of irrefutable evidence, Iraq admitted for the first time the existence of an offensive biological weapons programme but denies weaponization. On August 8, 1995, General Hussein Kamel, Minister of Industry and Minerals and former Director of Iraq's Military Industrialization Coroporation (Saddam Hussein's son-in-law), with responsibility for all of Iraq's weapons programmes, leaves Iraq for Jordon. Iraq claims that Hussein Kamel had hidden from UNSCOM and the IAEA important information on the prohibited weapons programmes. Iraq withdraws from its third biological full final and complete disclosure; admitting a far more extensive biological warfare programme than previously admitted, including weaponization. Iraq also admits to having achieved far greater progress in its efforts to indigenously produce long-range missiles than had been previously declared. Iraq provides UNSCOM and the IAEA with large amounts of documentation, hidden on a chicken farm ostensibly by Hussein Kammel, related to its prohibited weapons programmes which subsequently leads to further disclosures by Iraq concerning the production of the nerve agent VX and Iraq's development of a nuclear weapon. Iraq also informs UNSCOM that the deadline to halt its cooperation is withdrawn. On November 12, 1997 UNSCR 1137 passed, condemning the continued violation by Iraq of its obligations, including its unacceptable decision to seek to impose conditions on cooperation with UNSCOM. On October 31, 1998 Iraq announces that it will cease all forms of interation with UNSCOM and its Chairman and to halt all UNSCOM's activities inside Iraq, including monitoring. The Security Council, in a statement to the press, unanimously condemn Iraq's decision to cease all cooperation with UNSCOM but removes staff by December 16, 1998. The reason that our esteemed speaker was in Iraq was to aid in the UN's Oil-for-Food program; providing food for the majority of the Iraqi population that would not have survived otherwise. Keep in mind there were no grocery stores, no way of gaining food other than from handouts given by the incredibly corrupt government which would trade with neighboring countries and pocket a large sum to build their extravagant estates. The 9/11 terrorist attacks merely provided the political cover needed for contemplation by society on what should be done in the Middle-East. George Bush addressed the UN General Assembly on September 12, 2002 and warned Iraq that it faced war unless it meets an international commitment: disclosure and destruction of all WMD, end support for terrorism, and to cease persecution of its minorities. After this announcement weapons inspectors were allowed back into the country, however everything was bugged, the inspectors were constantly watched and followed and the whole process was incredibly shady. It was also proved that Saddam Hussein had given $25,000 to families of suicide bombers in both the Gaza Strip and the West Bank. On November 8, 2002 UNSCR 1441 passed. This resolution outlined serious consequences for Iraq with further consultation between the US and the UN prior to US action. Its purpose was to send a signal to other dictoral regimes about how the world should be run; this was not a unilateral decision, especially given its incredible support by both the Polish and the British. Every target determined in Iraq was carefully calculated and signed off by a military lawyer. In all, the US had incredibly good intentions in going into Iraq. There had been no hospitals, schools or water treatment upgrades since 1991. However, now these institutions are being rebuilded and added to; oil production in the country increases by the day, the country is gaining a constitution and is currently holding a budget surplus. Technically, under both UNSCR 1441 and 687, the US didn't require a final resolution to go into Iraq. During question period, Mr. Grey allowed some of his own thoughts to come out; including his belief that Osama bin Laden has been dead since 2001 and that looking for him is useless. He also believes that Pakistan will be the last "war on terror" mission, which is currently in the beginning stages but was originally not to commence until Spring 2005. As well, he thinks that nuclear weapons are useless. If you have them you either can't use them (think Pakistan and India) or you get killed (if your neighbor countries found out you had them, they would pulverize you). He believes this terrorist argument is "silly"; and that the US shouldn't be using it as one of it's main reason for going into Iraq since the mission is more so about rescuing the citizens of Iraq from the Ba'ath regime, rebuilding the country after the fall of an authoritarian dictator, and ensuring the country has the advancement it needs to thrive in the global society. Mr. Grey also warned against the media as it is a dangerous tool and is quite drastically different than what is actually occurring from the viewpoint of actually being in the country. Iraq is actually much better off from what the media portrays, and though they are currently in disarray and their institutions haven't seen advancement since the early 90's, they are very technologically sound and have some of the best lawyers, doctors, etc. He also believes that Saddam Hussein should not be put on trial in the United States or by World Court but should be given back to the Iraqis. He provided an injustice against them, so in order to boost the confidence of the Iraqi people while their country is beginning to boom, they should be provided the opportunity to see to the end of their former dictator. *sigh of relief* ...and that, is that. Today in Astronomy I realized how sad I am going to be when the class comes to an end. As crazy as Dr. Gray is, and as often as he makes our class out to be a bunch of idiots, he's actually quite humorous, and he seems to fill this type of father-figure role that many of us university students are lacking as we are away from our families. He rails against the injustices of society, telling us not to take everything at face value and to search deeper, blah blah blah. Today his little nuggest of advice was this: "Speak up for yourselves, think about what's right and wrong; don't let wrong trample you." *sniffs* I love the crazy old coot. *smiles* I had more to say, and yet, I currently am without words. My fortune cookie last night said that I have an active mind and a keen imagination. I think my imagination is too active for my own good. *shrugs* I'm beginning to ramble; therefore, I shall see myself out. Love y'all, hope y'all are having a fabulous St. Patrick's Day... drink some Guiness for me! *kiss kiss* St. Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland, was not actually Irish. He was born on March 17 around AD 385, somewhere in Roman Britain, possibly near Dumbarton, Scotland. At 16, he was captured by Irish raiders looking for slaves and he was taken there to tend sheep. After six years of slavery, he ran away and ended up wandering through southern Gaul (France) and Italy. There, he had a vision from God which told him to return to Ireland and convert the pagans to Christianity. Returning to Ireland around 432, St. Patrick did missionary work until he died in 464. The country of Ireland went into mourning. The first St. Patrick's Day celebration in the United States was in 1737 in Boston. (courtesy of dictionary.com) |
| ...thursday, march eighteen, two-thousand four... ...please play again, r�essayez si vous plais... Tonight, I trekked to the UCC in the brisk coolness of the recently confused weather, listening to a glorious compilation CD. As Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again On My Own" raged from my earphones, I was taken back in time to determine where my absolute love for sweet sweet 80's rock stemmed from. After very little deliberation, I drifted back in time, back to the days when Andrew and I used to bike down the road to Katie and Peter's house, almost religiously, everyday. I believe it was the summer between grade five and six, Katie and I were attempting to watch some (in retrospect) godawful teen sitcom (a la Saved by the Bell?) when Peter decided that no, no it was prime time to literally shake the very core of that large farmhouse with some early Bon Jovi. *smiles* And I, I fell in love. Oh so sad, but true. Katie and Peter were like surrogate siblings, when Niki and Katelyn were too young to be useful and playing any quality games required more than two people, the four of us were relatively inseparable. They'd come to our house for ice cream sandwiches and cookies (due to the protectionism against such evils enforced by their jam preserving, no sugar added, old-fasioned mother) and we'd sit in their garden eating strawberries and raspberries to our heart's content... *sigh* Peter was such an amazing brother... when my own brother got to the age that he was more of a pain than a protector, Peter is the one who took on that role. He's the one who taught me to stand up for (and defend) myself, who encouraged me that I could be anything. I remember the summer between grade eight and grade nine, Katie and I were playing darts when Peter took me aside and informed me that I had to be careful because boys would be "lined up around the block" for me and he wouldn't always be there to watch out for me... and that with my interest in politics and law, he was sure I would make a much better female Prime Minister than that Kim Campbell. *laughs* It's been over a year, and still... it's hard to believe that he's gone. Maybe it's because I was here and couldn't make it home for the funeral and therefore have had no real closure... because oft times I see someone who resembles him so closely I think it may be him; then my mind realizes that it can't be. Nonetheless, it was him and not my actual brother who provided me with that early relationship advice... it was Peter and not Andrew who would stand up for me as a brother should. While I'm glad my brother doesn't feel the need to interfere with my life in that way ( I love him for it!), it's nice to know that someone cares. It wasn't until today that I remembered Pete's advice; that not every boy in the line is worth knowing, a bunch of them are jerks who should be avoided at all costs... oh but dear brother I have learned this lesson fully by now. I haven't seen the most recent boy since... the eighth, when I brushed past his chattering little group in the UCC on the way to do some hardcore essay writing. He visually brightened, flashed that gorgeous smile and greeted me above the ongoing group conversation. And I, I had no time to stop and chat; I had a fast-approaching deadline to meet. I have to admit, that this was definitely one of the most out-of-nowhere hookups. We were throwing the remote control at each other as neither of us wanted to decide what to watch... and that's when it happened, I couldn't even say what the initial move was, how it happened, what led up to that, nothing. It's a good thing that I'm a good girl. *smiles* He told me I was amazing and attempted to coordinate our breaks (rather unsuccessfully)... but other than that, I haven't seen him in weeks. For those couple days we shared our secret grins and knowing smiles... but it seems that this is all I am now; someone's delicious little secret. Am I that meaningless? Is all I am a sweet little girl with a wild side? A surprise, a secret... but never anything more, *pause* except for being Jer's inconvenience... I'm someone for boys to talk to until they realize I'm not going to put out, then they mysteriously find something/someone else to occupy their time. I'm a friend... but darned if you don't feel entitled to more... sneaking to my room while I am alone attempting to pressure me into situations I don't wish to be in... and then, nothing's ever the same. *dramatic sigh* I'm worth more than this. The girls sitting near me in the UCC were discussing their own love lives, I think that may or may not have been what got me into this state of mind... the one girl said to the other, "To think that I may end up with the same man that I'm with now? That's disgusting!" She went on to say something about how she thought she might be able to find someone better. Is that what we're left with? The feeling that there'll always be "something better" than what we've got? Is this the reason why people feel the need to cheat, because they're merely testing out to see if this person is better than what they have? Maybe my own standards are too high; maybe I should settle for someone who doesn't respect me as I feel should, someone who I can't really talk to about political matters, current events, anything intellectual... but they have a life plan... maybe that's why I put myself through that entire relationship; I felt that there was nothing better. Though he was a good guy for the beginning of the short-lived relationship (if it can be called that)... he just grew to annoy me, his sense of humor no longer made me laugh and his questions became pervasive and intrusive. I know it's wrong to want that back, and I really honestly don't... I don't want a relationship right now at all. I just want to be... significant. I don't like being merely someone's secret; as it causes me to feel like I am not good enough... like I'm merely being kept for the moment while the other person is searching for that "something better". Alas, as an electric chill snakes itself up my spine... I feel the need to wrap myself in the warmth and comfort of my little bed. Tomorrow, I will wake up and read s'more Mill. Apparently Mill is the only comfort I have left... sorry for the self-degradation, if you don't like it... I suppose you don't have to read it. Love you all. *kiss kiss* |
...saturday march twenty, two thousand four... ...sweet dreams that leave all worries behind you... I feel so... relaxed. I just got out of a long shower, ended prematurely by the waning hot water. I'm sitting here all cozy and clean and damp, wrapped in a warm towel; loving the contrast of the pleasant comfort of the soft towel and the coolness left on my skin from the evaporation of water. Additional warmth is spread through my insides in the form of Butterscotch Schnopps. I'm in near darkess; glowing light caused by the dissemination of candles throughout the room. Sounds of Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong eminate from my speakers... "Say nighty-night and kiss me / Just hold me tight and tell me you�ll miss me / While I�m alone and blue as can be / Dream a little dream of me..." Terrorist activity in Iraq has been intense lately (here); while here at home, protests have been raging country-wide (here). I have some issues with this; not the protests in general, as I am all for the right to peaceful protest. Here we go: "Within three weeks of Canada's decision (last year) not to participate in the war, a candidate for the Liberal party, now our prime minister, said we may have offended (President) George Bush and in order to be back in the good books, we should begin discussions immediately." This remark by NDP leader Jack Layton only adds to my feeling that Paul Martin is an idiot. From the knowledge I gained in my visit to the DND we have nothing to contribute; we have already given more troops than we can spare as we are currently stretched beyond operational capacity, and above all, our priorities lie with NATO in Afghanistan. That certainly doesn't mean that we can't support the United States in theory, however, sending troops we can't afford to send is another story. "The war has already happened so it's hard to get people out," Kadir said. "But someday, these marches are going to be able to prevent invasions like Iraq. Governments can no longer continue to ignore the people." I disagree. People have been protesting for a long time, and it hasn't caused any major disruptions in the decisions of the government. These protestors are merely viewed by the government as a spoiled child with a hissy fit. They'll simply hypothetically pat them on the head, mumble some words to soothe them, and move on. Though I agree that protests at least bring some attention to the matter at hand; they are relatively pointless. The only real influence we have on the government is through voting; though, this does not help the fact that we're stuck with Paul Martin as a leader. Gary Townsend said he didn't go to previous anti-war demonstrations, but changed his mind Saturday because of the number of terror attacks since the war. "Enough is enough," said Townsend, 52. "It's just one thing after another. This whole war (on terror) is bogus." The Middle-East has been a hotbed of activity for a long time; yet, without the media attention and knowledge that comes with this "War on Terror", the general Canadian/American public is relatively unaware of these happenings. Terror is not a new thing, and while there is a certain amount of backlash from rebel groups after the capture of Saddam Hussein and the fall of his authoritarian regime, that can not be helped. Better to have these attacks now and try to find these groups and eradicate them than to have left Iraq the way it was, constantly swarming with terrorist organizations, for who knows how long. Julie Garceau, 21, marched with a sign reading Martin, No Dollars to Army, Dollars to Healthcare and Education. This was actually one of the main frustrations of the fine folks at DND. The general population ranks the importance of funds to the military approximately seventh or eighth on their list of concerns; well under both healthcare and education. Yet, these same taxpayers are proud of the peacekeeping missions we undertake and would like to see more of this Canadian presence and diplomacy throughout the world. What they fail to realize is that by not giving money to the military; they also are not giving money to these missions, missions that require funds and troops to operate. Again, we're stretched to operational capacity, there are many countries which list the presence of one peacekeeper. One! Why you ask? Because the government has insisted that the military station someone there so we look good; when that sole troop could be of actual use elsewhere. I believe that our military needs more money. Other countries view us as a joke; and simply write us off as being under the wing of the USA. There is no way that we can be viewed as a global decision maker and global actor if we have nothing to contribute. Instead, our Seakings become the butt of global jokes. Retiree William Kennedy said he and a few friends turned out to try to give civilians a voice in the military conflict. "We keep talking here about the American (military) dead, it's unfortunate, we don't want to see anybody killed, but that's part of (the) job in the military," he said. "Civilians weren't involved in (taking that risk), they were just bombed." With the technology available today, especially military technology which is incredibly advanced, citizen deaths are lower than ever. Each target is carefully chosen and deliberated on and signed off by a military lawyer. When that target is struck, technology ensures that not even the siding of the surrounding buildings will be scratched. Yes, it is true that those in the military did enlist themselves willingly; however, citizens in Iraq did not sign up to be under the control of the Ba'ath regime and the dictatorial thumb of Saddam Hussein. Helmut Kuhn of Ottawa, who said he had opposed the war from the beginning, carried a placard with the words End U.S. occupation of Iraq. "We should not resort to war to try to solve the world's problems," Kuhn said. "That just creates more problems." I believe the real travesty here would be for the United States to pack up and leave Iraq. By taking on this mission, they committed themselves to the country and to the citizens of that country. By leaving now, the country would merely be overrun by terrorist organizations and authoritarian parties attempting to gain control. The United States aided these people in gaining a constitution; it is their duty to ensure that said constitution is protected, that the citizens of Iraq are protected. One country, no matter their size, cannot simply go into another and try to solve their problems; they are forced to resort to war. Had the United States not declared war before entering Iraq, the troops would have been demolished. War would come about from this situation sooner or later. On a separate note, Stephen Harper was victorious in the Conservative leadership race. I'm just glad it wasn't sexy Belinda; a win for Stephen Harper is a win for the Liberals. Speaking of the Liberals, it's important to remember the greatness of Mitchell Sharp out of respect for his recent passing. Mr. Chr�tien joked that as a $1-a-year adviser, Mr. Sharp was "the best bargain the government ever had." Well my dear friends, as I must get up early tomorrow morning and work again; I think I'm going to throw on my pajamas and crawl into my warm little bed. Love you all, hope your respective weekends are fabulous. Those of you in Listy hittin' up Paddyfest; I wish I was there. *sigh* Nighty Night. |
...monday, march twenty two, two thousand four... "These are hard times," [Paul Martin] said Monday. "And as these farm families face these kind of challenges we believe that the government must be there to help." Producers hurt by the prolonged closure of the Canada-United States border to beef exports will get a payment of up to $80 per eligible animal on inventory as of Dec. 31, 2003. It's something, but perhaps for some; too little, too late. ...monday, march twenty-two, two thousand four... ...even Mill can't save me now... Every time this wound is ripped painfully open only to have the dagger plunged deeper. I can't stand to be alone. I can't stand to let people see me. A rather confusing and difficult predicament. The pain never gets any easier to handle. I am weak. I give into kind words and trust too deeply. Too easily. Call it a disasterous Cancer trait; call it what you wish, it will be the death of me. I am the toy played with recklessly, without abandon. The glue only holds so long. One can only be broken so many times before it's impossible to be fixed. The break grows bigger. The glue; invisible. This is the only evidence of my breakdown. Tomorrow; a smile. A smile is the glue which covers the ache. The imaginary band-aid which causes no one to see deeper than they require. Words are futile. Words that have been muttered and broken can never hold the same promises. If I wasn't the one to blame, I wouldn't be the one repeatedly left behind. My eyes are empty. I feel cold. Naked. Broken. ..tuesday, march twenty-three, two thousand four... You're wearing flip-flops! I hate feeling restricted. Aren't your toes cold? It reminds me I'm real. You're crazy! Some would say so. I feel outside of my own body. Walking around this oh-so-familiar city, I feel lost. Every word I say echoes with falseness. Even ordering a coffee is torture. I'm silently screaming. I know not exactly what is wrong with me; however, I am aware that this is pretty intense. I am broken; and it's scary. Or maybe my smile was always for the world and not reflective of my true sentiments. Maybe I am fake. Maybe not. ...wednesday, march twenty-four, two thousand four... Today I was turned on by potentially one of the most dependable objects in my life... my blessed flip-flops. I've been wearing them for the past month and today, today was the day they decided to give me blisters. These broken, bleeding chasms and the sad wet rain seem to fit perfectly with this down-cycle I'm experiencing. I wish I could hop into my hypothetical time machine and float back to the beginning of this week; deciding not to leave the pillowly cloud of bliss that I call bed. However, I'm realizing that perhaps the reason this snap occurred is because I often don't deal with these emotions when they expose themselves. I prefer to be happy, mainly due to the fact that I hate the sentiments I receive when I am not. On the way home today, wearing the puddle thrown at me by a passing car, attempting to suppress my hiccups, I realized that there is no one in this city whom I trust with my entire being. There is no one here whom I show every facet of myself; I retain the negativity and only allow the positivity to shine through. Last year I had Shaunacey, she saw the best and worst of me, but just as all the rest, she has turned her back on me. I have decided this is part of my problem; the neglect that I have experienced by showing my true self to those around me. It began with Leah in grade 10, the day she just brushed past Dar and I, never to speak a word to me again. For months on end, I attempted to obtain some sort of explanation; however, my attempts were futile. The loss of Shaunacey set me back to the same place. To throw a friendship, where you give your absolute all, out the window is a painful and difficult thing. And I, I never understood how people could just walk away so easily. How insignificant am I that these souls could just turn and leave and never turn back, while I remain holding onto this thread of hope; this thread that ends up violently strangling me. Even now, I believe this has caused me to hold back, clutching this security blanket to ensure I don't get hurt like that again. No one person knows enough that would result in my demise. Angela knows of that one horrendous night that plagues my nightmares; an experience which inexplicably binds us. We bond over tales of debauchery. Rhonda, I have adopted as a sibling. Our 4am chats aided both of us through rough times and relationships. Nik and Kate, my true sisters, probably know more about my fears than any other, however, all other tales are stamped with a PG rating in case of potential leakage. Also, I know that I'll always have my precious Sarah; though she is far away, in Toronto. For some reason we bonded... though our mutual ex-boyfriend it seems, that and the glorious days of Listy Tim Hortons... I went from being compared to her constantly (You have a dog? Sarah has a dog! You play piano? Sarah plays piano!), to being glad to have my name announced in the same breath. From our work ranting and raving (Box flaps will not save the world! Cigarettes will kill you; so will riding a bike without a helmet *insert throwing Jered's bike into the dumpster for drowning Sarah's last cigarette*) I put up with her liver and onions, and she put up with me making wacky noises while I dyed her hair. I miss watching our light comedic films (Josie and the Pussycats, Ladies Man), kicking boys in need of kicking, swooning over the Hicks boy... I wish I saw my Sarah more; it's been far, far too long. And Meghan; my soulmate, she balances me constantly. However, I think, subconciously, I fear she will eventually turn her back on me as well, making this one of the hardest relationships to fight. I love her with every ounce of my soul, and yet, I always feel that it's more important that I care for her than to let my fears show though. I feel the need to be strong for the both of us, and in the end this causes me to feel crushed by the weight of my own insecurities. I know that I should be able to share my burdens with others, however it is my own selfishness and greed which causes me to keep them to myself. As well, none of these people are in this city. In this city, where I have so many other friends, there is no one I can turn to as easily as those aforementioned. Meghan is a far ways away in Ottawa; the others, at home. So here I am, a small country girl in the big city, crushed by myself. All of this is even without the added complications brought to the table by members of the opposite sex. These, I will examine later; as I feel the sudden need to get away from this machine and curl up on my pillowly cloud of bliss. I just needed to write these down to get them out, to let them loose into the world; because really, I feel as if no one really reads this, as if it is my own personal diary to which I just let my feelings flow... |
...thursday, march twenty-five, two thousand four... ...a pinch of pain, a lot of pleasure, and generous proposition.... This is definitely making me feel better for now... however, I require a good volunteer... Heh. *wicked smile* ...friday, march twenty-six, two thousand four... The political scandal is over. No, I'm not talking about the Liberal fiasco, but my own "political scandal" as Keston has dubbed it. I am very happy about this, in the beginning I didn't know how I'd feel; like a rejected Monica Lewinsky perhaps? But no, no... I don't care for a relationship one bit, and the past couple days have re-enforced this feeling. And, stemming from my conversation with Charlie last night... I can still do the Monica thing and use this to my advantage... *laughs* Today I rode the bus to see Nig (merely because of my hurry), and there was some boy sitting across from me checking me out... I just giggled... and then he looked at me, and I glanced over, and he didn't remove his gaze from mine... it was intense and made me smirk and be the first to look away. So, here I sit with my twisted version of sex on the beach, reading the Life of Pi and considering getting ready for tonight. Don't think that the past couple days have been superficial and attention grabbing, because I'm still dealing with those issues... I just am beginning to feel remotely better, and am contemplating all of these things in my head all of the time. As well, sometimes smiles come from unexpected places, from unexpected people. Hanging out yesterday, with the boy I haven't really cared to see at all in the past year, made me feel incredibly better. I don't think I've gabbed and giggled that much in the past couple weeks... I was constantly bouncing around, unable to wipe the smile from my face. *smiles* As well, the neighbor boy has contributed greatly to my ease. I don't know what it is, as we're complete opposites, come from completely different worlds; yet the more time I spend conversing with him, the more I value his company. With him, I can state my own problems with feminism, politics, life, and he responds in a like manner; none of this contempt gained by my collegues when I unleash these issues to them. New friends are great. As well, I'd like to thank my old friends, for listening to me, and showing their love for me these past couple days... I'm sorry for being a downer. *laughs* Anyway, I really have to hop in the shower, so I'll post more another time. *kissy kissy* ...sunday, march twenty-eight, two thousand four... I feel... comfortable. I should be working on my philosophy paper; however, reading Okin infuriates me. It seems that, as of late, many things have had this affect on me; I've been ranting to my heart's (dis)content. However, talking to Kiki makes me incredibly happy; Easter is drawing near, which means home, family, the friends I miss with every fiber of my being. Home means stories, debauchery, having Kate crawl into bed with me, girl-talk with Kiki, breakfasts with Daddy... *sigh* School is drawing rapidly to a close, this year seems to have gone even quicker than last. It seems like just as I get settled into who I am and what I'm doing here; I'm done. A bit from Warren Kinsella, regarding Paul Martin's "ideas": We're going to change taxes and transfers in a way that makes everybody happy simultaneously. We're going to pull rabbits out of our asses until the plight of the First Nations vanishes. We're going to fix health care over a long weekend. And then we're going to agree on everything else. Who's Martin's new intergovernmental-affairs minister going to be, Barney the Dinosaur? I love this man's website, I read it almost religiously. As well, I can't stand Paul Martin. *shudder* I want JC back. Okay, now, from this essay business... I feel that people, far too often, don't realize how lucky we are to live in this Western society where our opinions regarding women and equality have progressed. In many cultures -- including fourteen countries in Central and South America -- rapists are legally exonerated if they marry or (in some cases) simply offer to marry their victims... By marrying his victim, the rapist can help restore the family's honor and relieve it of a daughter who, as "damaged goods," has become unmarriageable... But worse fates do exist in some cultures -- notably in Pakistan and part of the Arab Middle East, where women who bring rape charges quite frequently are charged themselves with the serious Muslim offense of"zina", or sex outside of marriage. Law allows for the whipping or imprisonment of such women, and culture condones the killing or pressuring into suicide of a raped woman by relatives intent on restoring the family's honor. I can't imagine living in a society that values women so poorly. So, I guess to my Theory class who says that feminism hasn't done anything for women... I'd much rather have feminism and our society which has sprung forth from such values, rather than live in a culture resembling these. Anyway, I really should get either to work, or to sleep. Thank you Dr. Grey for cancelling class tomorrow... no class Fridays followed by no class Mondays makes for a very happy Lea. *smiles* Love y'all... Night! |
...monday, march twenty-nine, two thousand four... ...some people call me a bad apple, but I may be the sweetest apple on the tree... "I am strong, in spite of being childish and weak now and then But I am strong, individual, thinking, for all that. I need a strong mate: I do not want to accidentally crush and subdue him like a steamroller. I must find a strong potential powerful mate who can counter my vibrant dynamic self: sexual and intellectual, and while comradely, I must admire him: respect and admiration must equate with the object of my love (that is where the remnants of paternal, godlike qualities come in). I do not want to be primarily a mother: mine cannot be a pitying and forgiving-black-sheep love: so out with the handsome puppy." -- Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath, 74 Alex and I were discussing this the other night. He claims he wants the typical Western girl (read: Louis Vuitton bag, tiffany necklace, juicy couture sweatsuits, goes nowhere without her mask of cosmetics), and therefore, since his idea of the perfect mate springs from "Like my mother; pretty, but not overly bright" he doesn't believe that I could feel otherwise. Insert his rant about the girls here not being interested in smart boys, but jocks and pretty boys. I told him that I find brains attractive; that I really want a smart boy, actually that I can't see myself with someone who I don't respect and admire for having a mind of his own, and some level of intellect. I have dated many boys who lack this quality; and as good looking as they originally appear, looks fade rather quickly when there is no personality to back them up. And the scale tips both ways; a boy, who may not be gorgeous, grows so incredibly dreamy with the constant discovery of his mind. I like being able to talk to someone on an intellectual level, I find that these other boys often have zero to talk about. Sports talk, while enjoyable upon occasion, can only be discussed for so long. As Plath stated, I as well need someone strong and powerful who can counter my vibrant dynamic self. I've had my fair share of puppies; those relationships can only last so long before said puppy becomes a constant annoyance. Perhaps my standards are too high; however, I know I could not possibly be happy with someone who doesn't respect me for all that I am, and whom I can't respect for all that he is. Alex also made it clear that he never saw me as sweet and innocent; that he has had a watchful eye and perhaps knows me better than I realize. This intrigues me as it seems to be far from common consensus. Andrew is floored by my stories. I guess I'm kind of just interested to see how others view me. *shrugs* I know my mother sees me as rebellious and dangerous, however, I think that she would be relieved to know that deep down, I am a good girl. Though I have a long list of experiences, the list of which said experiences were thoroughly established is significantly tiny. Stephen, who sang to me non-stop for a half hour at work yesterday, tells me that I'm just the sweetest little thing. While this is far from the truth, I am not un-sweet. I may not be completely innocent, but I am far from absolutely corrupt. Had Alex's perception of me been accurate, I fear that my recent "political scandal" would have been far more scandelous than it actually was. *sigh* I guess what I'm trying to say, is that I haven't completely let my mother down. I think that she would be proud of my strength and resolve. I think that she should be proud that I am independent and that I speak up for myself and my beliefs; because this, I learned from her. She taught me that life without ambition is not worth living. That it is possible to stay at home and raise a family and have a career as well. My mother may have gone against today's backwards feminist views to stay at home and not explore a career, however, she changed that by being the only woman on the town council. She has always been incredibly intelligent, always spurring us on to not accept anything at face value, to delve deeper to find the truth. So I guess in response to the unlucky woman destined as Alex's future wife, mothers are primary in the moulding of their children's minds, souls, and bodies... her lack of ambition would be reflected in those unfortunate children. I hope he'll snap out of this idea, for the sake of his own future. If not, I found an incredibly adorable girl at work the other day who has almost mastered counting... I'll see what I can do. ...tuesday, march thirty, two thousand four... After many grueling hours of checkers victories, espresso, and the odd book, the essay writing extravaganza has been completed. Finally, this girl has the chance to dive headlong into a novel that is completely irrelevant and unrequired in regards to this institution. Though I have obtained a whopping full hour of sleep, I feel surprisingly alert and fresh. Today, the soft, light rain is my friend. I smile and sing to myself as the droplets of water slowly encroach upon my warm little sweater. I skip merrily down the sidewalk, frolicking happily, sure to jump with both feet into each and every puddle that comes my way. A giggle of glee escapes me with each happy little hop; my flipflops squeaking their approval beneath my free little toes. Now, contentedly damp and armed with tales of mystery and adventure, I eagerly await the arrival of my favorite IR distraction: Andrew. Our artsy trek for today, to MacIntosh, is dubbed unnecessary due to the fact that the exhibit is continued this week. While I doubt Andrew is up for dancing around with me in the warm rain, I maintain the wish for a playmate, adding to my sillyness and giggles, twirling around together under the fresh springtime sky, falling intertwined on the greening grass, our chests rising and falling rapidly with the sudden requirement for breath, the consistent surge of laughter resonating from the scene. Alas, my distraction has arrived and so I shall pop my little clouds of dreamy bliss and graciously depart... |