High School Art

Back in High School I always took art classes and loved them. What I find interesting now is that at the time I really loathed the odd class devoted solely to art history. While I found aspects of it interesting I was always eager to get back to whatever project we were working on that week. A couple of years later and I would become an Art History minor in University.

I love Art History now and try and find ways to incorporate that side of my degree into what I'm doing these days, which is straight history. I was flipping through an old sketch book from back then and found this picture. This was done as part of an exercise, I forget what the point of it was though- either to examine colour, or to create a new fantasy animal by looking at the world slightly askew. Either way, I still love it and the fact that the boy's face looks like one of the guy's in that class who briefly modeled for the drawing.

It's been months since I've picked up a pencil to sketch something, and even longer since I have put pencil crayon to paper. I know I've lost some of the art skills I learned in High School and University fine arts courses, since you have to practice to keep it up properly. Despite that I think I'd like to try sketching again on a more regular basis. I think it would be good for me to get out from under the mountain of textbooks and journal articles I have to read and focus on something completely different for a change of pace in between.

Academic "Love Notes"

I always get a big kick out of the little notes that my students leave for me in the margins of their exams and midterms, or the post-it notes discretely stuck to the final page of their major papers and assignments. I call these my little love notes.

Most of the time it's an apology for sloppy handwriting, not double spacing, or thanking the Professor for a great class at the end of term. Other's are explanatory notes for why the assignment is late, some minor problem they had with formatting or sticking to the word length. My favourite are of the thank-you variety. The keeners who hope to inspire feelings of good nature by kissing up so that we'll be more lenient in our marking. Most of these types of love notes are directed towards the Professor since students mistakenly believe that their Prof actually sees and marks their work.

Today I've been marking a glossary assignment, where students had to create a glossary of 30-odd terms given by the Professor on a book they're reading for class. The assignment states that it is to be no more than 6 typed pages. I found this little note tucked inside one student's assignment.

It reminded me of a note I had a couple of weeks ago on an assignment that was supposed to be no more than 4 pages. One student left this note for the Professor:

"I appologize for being 7 lines over the 4 page requirement but I simply could not justify taking out any more content without compromising the integrity of the report.
Thank-You"

I had to laugh at this one, since it's a first year course and what some would consider to be bird-course, especially if you're a hardcore History major. The Professor's response:

"Do not stress over 7 lines!" (amongst other things relavent to the assignment)

In this case the Professor was actually marking the assignment, but it's an all too rare occasion for first year courses.

NaBloPoMo

I've decided to participate in NaBloPoMo(National Blog Posting Month), an alternative to November's NaNoWriMo(National Novel Writing Month). For those not in the know, National Novel Writing Month is a program wherein the participants pledge to write 50,000 words in the month of November. The goal is to accumulate enough words to fill a novel. While I like the concept behind NaNoWriMo, I lack that drive and desire to write a novel in 30 days. I also have to finish a 100 page thesis in those 30 days so I think I'm good on that front.

Posting on a regular basis is something I've wanted to keep up with, however I've been sadly lacking on that front. This challenge gives me the push I need to see if I can post something everyday- even the weekends. They're also offering some pretty cool prizes as an incentive to keep up with the posting.

NaBloPoMo has also inspired me to figure out how to post a linking button on my sidebar. I'm a complete noob on the HTML, so it took me the better part of an hour to get it right, but I'm happy that I figured it out. Now I just need to scrounge up $20 to buy Maggie's book, to ensure I have enough fodder to last me 30 consecutive days and I think I'll be good to go.

A Different Kind of Wealth

Not too long ago I started to take direct control of my finances on a daily basis to make sure I wouldn’t bounce my rent cheques or run out of money for groceries. I learned how to balance my chequebook for the first time in my life, and budgeted out to the dollar what my spending for the month would be, instead of just eyeballing it and guesstimating what was in my account. Along with this I’ve also started reading a number of personal finance blogs on a daily basis to help and inspire me on what can be a discouraging task at times.

This morning I clicked on a link from Get Rich Slowly that led me to Christine Kane and a post she put up entitled, “Don’t GET Rich Quick. BE Rich Quick.” It was definitely not something I was expecting to read and was more of a positive thinking/motivational piece. However, that doesn’t negate its value in my eyes and instead got me to thinking about my finances and life in a different way. She advocates for being more prescient in your daily life and taking pleasure in the little things, the here and now, valuing what you have instead of striving and worrying for things you don’t have.

I feel like a bomb has gone off in my life recently. I already had difficulties looking at my eyes in the mirror and finding value within myself on most mornings. Since the herpes diagnosis I have retreated from life even farther, feeling like a social leper and more confused and hurt about my future, relationships and what life holds for me now more than ever. Intuitively I know it’s not the end of the world, but emotionally I’m wracked with guilt and regret at some of the choices I have made that led me to where I am now. Any time I take a moment to really think about it, I end up in tears of despair.

What Kane’s post got me thinking about is the intangible wealth in my life and the things I should recognize and be grateful for on a regular basis. I have parents who are so supportive of my education and goals that they are willing to do anything necessary to see me through this, including sacrificing their time, money or going out of their way to get me what I need. My siblings are equally supportive, even if they don’t know exactly what it is I’m doing here in University, but they are interested and encouraging nonetheless.

While I don’t have a lot of money, I also don’t have a penny of debt which has been an incredible feat considering the fact that I’ve spent the past six years straight in post-secondary education. I have a roof over my head, a very nice and reliable car to get me where I need and more than enough clothing to keep me warm, dressed and even reasonably fashionable. Regardless of the herpes, the depression, my slipping weight gain and inactivity, I am still a beautiful person who has so much going for me if I could just see what other people see in me.

I desperately need to stop hiding from life, sequestering myself in my room, sleeping away my days in the futile hope that when I wake up everything will be taken care of and the stress will be gone. While I sit here and worry about the future and the things I don’t have, my life is happening. I have become so disengaged from living everyday that I’m missing out on so many things unnecessarily. Wealth is so much more than just the numbers in my bank account, and it took a blog for me to be reminded of that.

One Rainy Afternoon

After canceling plans with him the previous weekend, we finally met up for coffee this past Friday afternoon. It wasn’t the dinner he had envisioned, but under the circumstances it was the best I could give him. Our first plans fell through because I didn’t feel up to it after having gone to see my doctor for a barrage of STD test’s and blood draws that day. I was understandably upset and the thought of putting on a happy face to socialize was more than I could bear. I was feeling so bad that I cancelled over text message- something I’m not really proud of.

I was still apprehensive about attempt number two, but I made myself go regardless. Our original plans were to meet for dinner, but I called and said I had to be back in the New University Town by early evening because I got slammed with marking that week and was under the gun with deadlines. He was really great about it and suggested meeting up for coffee mid-afternoon at one of the independent café’s in town. It was nice to feel like a priority in his life since he took time off work to spend time with me, something Mr. Intellectual never did.

We caught up with each other’s lives from the past two years over multiple cups of coffee in a quiet little corner of a café I immediately fell in love with. It was so quintessential Uni Town in its atmosphere, décor and patrons. So much had changed and yet stayed the same in the past two years. He’s become more focused and settled, but has retained his boyish exuberance and frenetic energy at the same time.

Unbeknownst to me he has kept up with the major changes in my life through one or two of my brother’s. I have no idea exactly how much of the details he knows, but he knew about my job move, my move to the New Uni Town, and my Ph.d acceptance. I also knew through some of his friends that prior to the party at my brother’s house, he had asked to find out if I was going to be there and was excited to see me again. I was flattered and surprised to discover his continued interest in my life after we parted ways.

Conversation flowed easily and we found new common ground while traversing old paths of shared interests. For that afternoon we were just two old friends lingering over a great cup of coffee on a cold and rainy day. It was nice to just be uncomplicated for a few hours. We parted with a hug and he promised to call me again the following week to make plans for when I’m back in town.

I’m still uncertain of a relationship with him, but I feel that he of all people would be the most compassionate and least judgmental about the herpes, my depression and my driven, border line workaholic lifestyle. That being said, if I’m going to become more than good friends with him, I need to cleanly break away from the Jock once and for all. Which is easier said than done, especially right now.

Test Results, Part I

The Jock's test results came back this past Monday. He tested positive for Herpes Simplex Virus 1. Chances that I don't have HSV-1 as well? Zero. I don't get all my labs back until November 10th and from what I vaguely recall, my doctor said that they couldn't test for herpes without the presence of lesions, which I didn't have at the time of my initial visit.

I've been sick ever since I heard the diagnosis. A severe migraine has kept me in bed constantly for the past 48 hours and I am just now able to get up and do a few things without excruciating pain, light sensitivity and nausea. I don't know if its the combined stress or just a regular migraine that I get periodically.

Apparently 1 in 4 North American's have herpes. Which is ironic since I've only slept with 4 men. I don't know for certain who it was, but I do know for a fact it wasn't Mr. Intellectual since we were both virgins. The Jock and I have agreed not to play the blame game and accuse the other of passing it on. That doesn't help the situation for either of us.

He's taking it surprisingly well and educating himself on what it is and how to treat and prevent outbreaks, both medically and naturopathically. He ordered the book that his doctor highly recommended, The Truth About Herpes by Stephen Sacks. I on the other hand just don't really want to deal with this at the moment. I know it's not a healthy response, but if I think about it I can't stop crying. I can't afford another set beck on finishing my thesis and taking care of the two courses that I'm a Teaching Assistant for.

I suppose I should order my own copy of the book, but I can't justify the expense at the moment given the fact that I'll be coming up $20 short on rent this month. Once my pay cheque comes in a few days after rent is due, I'll reconsider.

Beyond Consoling

There's an 80% chance I have herpes. The test results won't be in until next Monday. What I thought was a yeast infection that I passed on to the Jock may in fact be something he shared with me. I am beyond upset at this news and really don't know what to do. I just keep thinking that I've only slept with 4 men in my entire life! I have been far from promiscuous.

Then and Now

The snow was falling in great big, thick flakes. You were living in that run down student house with a couple of buddies from work- fight club. You called the house Fight Club. After the movie and its impossibly dilapidated house where Tyler Durden lived.

The feel of your three-day beard, rough, on my face while your lips were so warm and soft on mine.

You had walked back to the house with me from the bar that night sometime after midnight. I was leaving early in the morning for my parent’s home and the Christmas break, so I left the get together early. We were alone in the front hallway, and emboldened by the knowledge that I wouldn’t see you until after the holidays…

I moved closer, assertively took your face in my hands and kissed you passionately, unexpectedly and without shame.

When our lips finally parted, we promised to see each other when we both got back from the holiday before I walked out into that cold, quiet, December night. It’s almost two years later now and there you are, in my brother’s house. From across the room I can see your smile and hear you laughing over some joke between friends. I have no idea what happened between us and why we never did see each other after that night. You never called and the next time I saw you, it was months later and you had another woman on your arm. Tonight you’re alone.

This time, you keyed my phone number into your cell at the end of the night and promised to call. Your lips are as soft as I remember them.

Fortune Cookie Fun, Part II

I went out to lunch with The Jock last week at a chinese restaurant. After the meal the obligatory fortune cookies came out. We both had the same fortune, which I found a little ironic. I'm still spending time with someone, weeks after I wanted to get out of the relationship with them. For various reasons it hasn't happened yet. How do you break up with someone right after their grandmother dies? And then an Aunt? I suppose there really is no "good" time to leave someone.

The Family's Expanding

"We're going to have a new baby, and it's in Mommy's tummy already!"

That was the proud announcement my four year old neice, Little Miss E, gave to her Great Grandmother yesterday. My Sister-in-Law is pregnant for the third time and we couldn't be happier. The best part about it is the fact that she's due on my birthday.

We also found out this past weekend that a cousin of mine is expecting their first child this Spring. Their due date also happens to fall on my birthday. May 11th is going to be a busy time next Spring. Although chances of delivery actually happening on that date are pretty slim, it would still be pretty fun if it did happen.

A Taste of Winter

I woke up this morning to a bright, albeit chilly, fall day. That all changed as heavy clouds obscured the sun and then proceeded to dropped snow on us over the noon hour. At first it was more pellet-like frozen rain than real snow. I watched from my bedroom window in slight amusement until it turned into a white out of flakes and strong winds. It has now been snowing off and on all afternoon.

This is happening a little too early for my tastes. I knew that the new University town traditionally had more snow fall than both my hometown and my former University town, but this is crazy. The leaves have just begun to turn colour and haven't even started to drop in earnest yet. I don't know if my depression can handle a long, drawn out winter if I'm already experiencing some troubling episodes and it's barely October.

25 Ways I Save Money

I’ve recently become fascinated with personal finance blogs, since I’m trying to find ways to save money or cut costs given my current situation. As a graduate student I don't have a lot of money coming in, and I have a lot of expenses at the moment. Frugal For Life posted a list of “25 Ways I Save Money” and invited readers to share their list. I wasn’t sure I’d have a whole 25, but it didn’t take long before I realized I do a lot of frugal things without realizing it. So, for something completely different on this blog I present my list of 25 Ways I Save Money:

1. I cut my dryer sheets into 8ths.
2. Wash my clothes in cold water and wait until I have a full load before doing laundry.
3. Borrow books from the library, friends or family and buy them used whenever possible.
4. Take my textbooks out of the library since I get full semester loans as a graduate student.
5. Watch movies at home.
6. Bring lunch to work or school.
7. Go public skating for free at my University- it’s subsidized by my student fees, just like open swim, the indoor track, squash courts, badminton, and gym memberships which only cost $30 a semester.
8. Use my bus pass when possible since it’s paid for by student fees.
9. Save all paper with 1 blank side for scrap paper, or printing off for proof reading.
10. Buy my clothes on sale in the off season as much as I can - I always find fantastic deals on summer clothes in fall, or winter clothes in spring.
11. Use empty food containers (like peanut butter jars and margarine containers) for storing leftover food, uncooked pasta, home made soup for in the freezer etc.
12. Use business cards for bookmarks, which I can never have enough of.
13. I bought a 6 foot banquet table to use as my desk. It folds down for easy moving which is a blessing since I move so often as a student and I can use it in the future for its intended purpose.
14. I read the newspaper online for free every morning instead of subscribing to the print edition.
15. I don’t buy bottled water or Britta filters, but I do keep a jug of tap water in the fridge at all times since I choose not to drink juices or pop.
16. Use old t-shirts and flannel pajama’s cut into squares for dusting cloths.
17. Eat out and order in very infrequently.
18. Bought my car used.
19. I pay off my credit card every single month to maintain a zero balance.
20. Look for online reviews of products I might want to purchase, everything from make-up to electronics, and then decide if it’s really something I want to invest in.
21. I don’t subscribe to cable or magazines since I have so little free time to enjoy either.
22. I bought an air popper and buy my popcorn kernels in bulk for a healthy snack I really love.
23. I use ontariogasprices.com to find out where the cheapest gas is, especially if I’m traveling out of town.
24. Wait for great sales on school supplies I know I’ll use and stock up or I buy in bulk. Photocopy paper in bulk is much cheaper than buying individual packages of plain white paper and I know I can never have enough of it as a graduate student.
25. I only buy clothes I absolutely love and fit well so that I know I’ll wear them, instead of having a closet full of clothes that I hardly wear because I don’t really like them that much for whatever reason.

Unbidden Thoughts

A wispy vision of your smile, and the freckles on your face drifts through my memory. Your long slender hands, and the peanut butter sandwich’s you made us for lunch that summer when I couldn’t cope. Spooning on the couch and the crackle of a fire in the dead of winter, your arms holding me tight. Tears blur my vision and I try to put the past out of my thoughts. It’s hard to look forward knowing you’re not there beside me, even as a friend.

Sometimes when good things happen during my day I want to call you up to share my elation and excitement, knowing you’d be happy to hear about it. With a twinge of sadness I realize that part of my life is no more. I can’t call you up to share my highs and lows. In the late hours of the night, as I ponder over a turn of phrase, a line of inquiry, a methodological problem in my work I think back to the time when we could go over it together and work towards a solution. It was so easy with you because we were both budding professional historians. If I couldn’t find the words to explain the problem you could pick up the clues and help me solve the puzzle. The easy banter back and forth over our work. I wonder if you miss that too.

But I’ll never know, and so I must pick myself up and continue on. Slowly one foot in front of the other towards something I can’t distinguish anymore. The echo of your words drifting in and out of my thoughts.

“I like to think of you just continuing on. Some where out there, growing old…”

Research

From a 1922 book entitled, "Cheating the Junk-Pile: The Purchase and Maintenance of Household Equipments"

I'm at a loss for words to talk about my current personal situation, so a picture from my research will have to suffice. I love the turn of phrase for these captions. This advertisement from the N.Y. Edison Co. was in the chapter entitled, The Fire Hazard. There's something so amusing about reading through these old home makers manuals.

Unnecessary Criticism

I lay next to you on my side with my head propped up on one hand and watched the late afternoon sun filter through the blinds and over your naked chest. As we lounge in bed, my eyes fix on your face but my mind is elsewhere. Absently you run your hand over my hip and graze my stomach, letting it rest for a moment before you pinched a small roll of flesh between your thumb and forefinger, gently shaking it back and forth.

“Time for you to start playing hockey again, eh?” You say, as you look disapprovingly at my stomach.

I am shocked back into the present as I slap away your hand, my brow furrowing, as I make an offhanded comment about the season starting soon, and you feeding me too well.

Later on, when I begin to think about it I become increasingly perturbed. By no means am I fat, quite the opposite really. I lean to the low end of the BMI index to the point where I’m almost underweight and sometimes feel emaciated. My housemates call me tiny to my dismay, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with my stomach. My anger flares when I think about you, and the excess weight you’re carrying that I never mention, knowing it’s a sore spot for you.

Is this all you value for me- how I look on your arm? Are you so shallow that if I gain a pound or change over time you will no longer want to be with me?

Fuck you and your third-trimester beer gut.

First Dates

I love the possibilities that a first date represents. I love the blank slate, and all the potential that is inherent in each new man. I love that you only know a little bit about your date, leaving the rest up to your imagination or to the anticipation of finding out the rest of the story. Inevitably the reality never quite matches up to the fantasy and in some unfortunate cases it’s not even close.

Last week I went on two first dates. Date number one was a guy I wasn’t all that keen on, but figured why not. I’m new to this city, don’t know any really great places to go yet and at the very least it was shaping up to be a date rife with entertainment value. After morphing from a simple cup of coffee, to dessert at an upscale café with purportedly divine desserts, it finally ended up being a double date with two of his good friends at a new restaurant in town that was modern and trendy looking. While the man hadn’t really impressed me over the phone, or our email contact, I ended up having a good time, mostly because he was clever in bringing along two good friends. They were a really great couple and I enjoyed their company. The beauty of it was there were no lulls in the conversation or awkward moments because the double date provided a buffer for any of his nervousness, or an inability to come up with a topic of conversation. The bad part was that I didn’t really get a chance to talk to him one on one so there was no opportunity to see how he really was face to face.

Date number two was a meeting at Dairy Queen for Blizzards. Initially I had a great feeling about this one since we had been having really great conversations on msn and our phone calls had been pretty good as well. However, prior to our date I got a hint of the possibility it might not be all I thought it was. In person date number two did not live up to the hype. His personality and conversational abilities fell completely flat. Most of the time was spent with him talking about his job in a field I don’t know much about and doesn’t exactly make for riveting conversation. After a rather painful hour and a half of listening to him talk about himself, I was able to extract myself to breath a deep sigh of relief and head on home for some peace and quiet. While the ice cream was fantastic, the rest of it was a write off, since he couldn’t even be bothered to ask me any questions about myself.

I’m going out with the first date again later this week for dinner and a movie since he seems like a really nice guy with some potential after all. Plus, he deserves the chance to show me what he’s all about on his own. Any future overtures at a second meeting with date number two will be quickly shut down. I have no desire to spend any more time with someone who is that self-absorbed, and thinks more highly of themselves than is warranted. I’m thinking of just calling him up tonight and telling him that while he’s a nice guy, I just didn’t feel any spark between us and that because we’re both busy individuals I don’t think we should waste our time pursuing something that isn’t going to go anywhere. I’ve never been good at rejecting people, and for some reason my previous methods have always left the door open for them to believe that if they tried harder they could reverse my decision when nothing could be farther from the truth.

The Bright Spot in My Day

I love that you call me sunshine, just like my mother used to when I was a child.

5 Years Ago

Five years ago, I awoke to the sound of the phone. It was my Mother on the other end of the line telling me to turn on the television, something big was happening. It took my sleepy mind several minutes to grasp what I was seeing and I remember vaguely the words “World War III” coming from the somewhat frantic conversation I shared with my Mother that morning. What I saw that day, and in the newspapers the next morning sickened me. Images of people jumping from the burning towers were like a visceral punch in the gut to my 20 year old self. I bowed my head, closed my eyes from these horrible images and willed this to not have happened, but nothing could turn back time.

One image in particular struck me that next day. It was a small red-haired rag doll, nestled amidst piles of now useless paper, covered in ash and debris on the street below where the Towers used to stand. To me that image spoke of the futility of the life that was spent in those offices, amassing files and shuffling paper, only to have it blown out the building and rendered absolutely useless. All that work, and for what? On that day, no one spoke of missed work and deadlines. It was about family and loved ones and the sorrow of life lost. That doll seemed so out of place in that scene, yet so poignant. I later learned that this rag doll, Little Red, was created by Sarah Ferguson for her New York charity, Chances for Children. Their offices were located on the 101st floor of Tower One in donated space from Cantor Fitzgerald. This wasn’t the first time Little Red had been exposed to senseless acts of destruction.

Seven years prior, Little Red was present at the Oklahoma City Bombing. A young boy, badly burned was rescued out of what was left of the building. He was given one of Sarah Ferguson’s rag dolls for comfort while he was being treated by medical personnel. It is disheartening for me to see children so badly hurt by adults, and adult problems and the image of this doll resting in the ruins of an adult world brought that home to me once again.

I didn’t cry that day five years ago, but thinking of all the children who were affected that day, through no fault of their own, brings me to tears today. Perhaps it comes with age, a deepened sensitivity towards the frailty of life and time, which allowed me to gain perspective on that day. Whatever it is, my thoughts go out to all the families who lost a loved one that day, because every single person who lost their life that day was someone’s child.

Home

I took this picture for a photography course in Undergrad approximately 4 years ago now. It was a shot to use up the roll of film and ended up being one of my favourite pictures. It inspired a series of pictures taken of every day objects and scenes on the farm.

Shattered

Inch by inch you are breaking me down. Even my own self-loathing feels like sweet caresses compared to the stinging criticism and cruel remarks aimed for maximum damage. When nothing I do is ever enough, and nothing I am is good enough.

Shameful, dirty…depraved and unlovable. Backed into a corner and cowering.

I wish you would just hit me instead. I could understand the physical aggression, but this emotional and mental onslaught is insidious and confusing. Pouncing out of nowhere and retreating. Circling, searching for that tender spot and pouring salt into my wounds.

Where a victory is marked by my tears and an apology is never forth coming.

I wonder how much longer I can hold you off before there is nothing left of me. Before the desperation to end my pain, to end the pain you heap on me becomes all consuming.

I am left wondering what I ever did to deserve your vitriolic retribution.