suzanne, you're all that I wanted for a girl

I would really, really like a monkey for a pet.* The Telus people have always made great commercials, but their new round of holiday spots, which feature various monkeys giving each other gifts (of cell phones of course) are just too cute. I kind of feel like if I had a monkey for a pet, it would be an anthropomorphization of the imaginary friend I had as a kid. And really, who doesn't want that, even at the age of twenty-five? I just know that the monkey and I would be best friends forever, even if it threw its feces at me. I could teach it to pet the cats, and probably to blog for me, and also to play tricks on my sisters. It could help me teach, as well, and accidentally poop on troublemakers. Beware the wrath of the monkey's butt, guys.

*Actually, I really don't want a monkey for a pet because I don't think that it is very fair to the monkey. I don't really believe in exotic pets.

This is a very pointless entry. I think that I could be a really good blogger, except that I am not. I've taken up curling on the weekends in a mixed league with my father, and I am spectacularly bad (although, it must be confessed, rapidly improving). My right knee has borne the brunt of the damage, as it now sports what I would like to call a perma-bruise because I have very poor form when kicking out of the hack. There is, however, something unreal about the sound of a 44-pound granite rock sliding down the ice as you run along the ice trying to keep up with it, wondering if you'll have to drop your broom and sweep, wondering if you can do any of that without falling flat on your ass.

There is really nothing wrong with me that a hot bath and a good cup of tea won't fix, or so I'll keep telling myself.

with so much drama in the L-A-C...

There is a video game commercial for Gears of War that includes Gary Jules' "Mad World" in it and it's wonderfully effective...very creepy and very cool. Not that I particularly care about video games, or next gen systems, but I like a good piece of marketing when it shows up.

I have, as some of you have noticed, been feeling out of sorts lately. On the surface, things are going very well for me. The job, so far, has been very rewarding. I am spending lots of good, quality time with people that I care deeply about. I am dating someone who makes me very happy. And yet, there is something that isn't quite right. I'm not quite sure how to put it into words, because I'm not quite sure what exactly it is that I am talking about.

If I had to guess, I'd say that maybe 60% of this is due to the change in seasons. This time of year always gets to me a little bit like that. I want everything I eat to be carb-tastic; I want to wear jammies and stay in bed; I want to watch a lot of TV. I need to push myself into being more active, because I feel so incredibly lethargic these days. Part of it is due to last week's airport misadventure, when Mum's 11:30 p.m. flight was delayed by 3 hours, and we didn't get back from picking her up until 4 a.m. My circadian rhythm has been a mess ever since.

The other 40%...well...it breaks down a little something like this: I am intellectually understimulated, and I don't feel very good about myself right now. It's not even that I dislike myself, but I am apathetic. Normally when I look in the mirror, I see things that I like, and things that I don't like. Right now, I just see a face. Nothing else.

And the person I want to talk to most right now couldn't be farther away from me.

is this working?

the pictures are working!

The courtesan

live the life you like

It has been an interesting few weeks around here. I have been alternating supply work with time in costume for THSWSNBN and it is doing a reasonable job of keeping me out of trouble and in the black (more or less). I'm getting between 7 and 10 calls a day for supply. A friend offered me the chance to take his group of junior kindergartens for a day, and that was a very interesting experience. For those of you not in the know, JKs are usually 3-4 years old...they are little little kids. It wound up being a very good day. I have never worked with children that small before. But, no one swore at me, and two girls drew me pictures to take home, and everyone wanted to sit in my lap for story time. To be honest, reading books to kids at that age is probably one of the most gratifying things I've ever done. One of the books was a poem about clocks, and I started reading it a bit quicker than the others, to make the rhythm fun, and all of kids the kids were amazed that I could read that fast.

I finished the Hallowe'en costume, and went to a party, which was a pretty fun time, though the boy was a little sad that no one knew who he was. Being at home this year has been so much better than I ever could have imagined. Living with my parents is good, and being around for friends is excellent.

Speaking of friends, I celebrated my 25th birthday Friday night, with a large crop of people--friends from work, friends from school. At one point we took a survey of those who came: 10 of 13 were current or former employees of THSWSNBN, 9 out of 13 were teachers, and about 6 or 7 were both. Basically, my friend base is quite nerdy. We had a really great night, I think. (There are some later bits that have faded from my memory, I must confess.) After nursing the mother of all hangovers yesterday, I am feeling mostly normal today.

And as icing on the birthday cake, the wife of a friend (who is, you guessed it, both a teacher and an interpreter) offered me a job at the local Adult Learning Centre. So, tomorrow, I am headed that way to take over a grade 12 literacy course. It pays reasonably well, though the hours aren't great (11:30-1:30 every day). The most important part is that it is a contract position, which means that I am slowly working towards seniority... At the very least, it will be interesting and challenging, I am sure.

We have about 6 inches of snow here, and it is marvelous.

time can do so much

I wish I could convey to you, dear, farflung reader, the beauty of the world that I live in right now. The part of the world that I live in is one of the most beautiful places in the world, though it is unlikely to be acknowledged as such, and never is it more beautiful than it is at this time of year. The autumn is simply glorious. Winter is also wonderful (though I know I find myself in the minority on that one). The leaves have begun to change in earnest now, and the roads are lined with these orange gold trees that contrast so sharply against the deep green of our pine and fur trees. I didn't choose to move to this part of the country (my father's promotion brought my family here some 18 years ago) and so I am terribly lucky to have fallen in love with it.

OCtober is shaping up to be a busy month, between work and play. My Hallowe'en costume is coming along swimmingly. I have only the hems and the trim left to do now. All in all it has been a much more successful endeavour that I could have imagined, despite the fact that I have some issues reading (and following) patterns. I have learned quite a lot about the social aspects of the Renaissance, and in the next week or so I will be designing some of my own jewelry which is also tremendously exciting. I am constructing myself a character as well, as people tend to look perplexed when I say that I am going to be a "generic Renaissance noblewoman" for Hallowe'en. Instead, I am going to be an Italian courtesan, a position which hides a great deal sins for me: it allows for more freedom with the hair and better jewelry, it provides a reason for me to be witty and entertaining, and, of course, it lets me have maximum cleavage.* (Which, if you've seen Mean Girls, you know Hallowe'en is all about anyway.)

*Since I used a modern pattern, the dress was designed for cleavage and does ot follow the modesty conventions of the time period...but if I'm a courtesan, those don't apply quite so much, anyway.

It should be a grand party with lots of pictures. What more can you ask for?

the thing that we call livin' is just being satisfied

It is Thanksgiving Monday here in rural Ontario. And thus, I am thankful, for many things: the one day off that means I have a good lot of work this month, the faint turkey smell from yesterday's delicious dinner, the battle for the bathroom that always ensues when all five of us are home. I am thankful for other things as well, but those are best shared with those they involve.

THSWSNBN had its annual craft show this weekend, along with a new Harvest Festival. We saw just under 2000 people in two days, which was much, much busier than anyone had anticipated us being...up several hundred from last year, I think. In some ways it was great, but in others...not bad, but completely exhausting.

We live near our town's grave yard, and beside the grave yard there is a farmer's field. (I did say rural Ontario, guys). There is a flock of wild turkeys living in the fields, and just before dusk each evening, they come in to the graveyard to roost in the ancient pine trees.

My mother discovered this about 4 weeks ago when she was out running, and so has become somewhat obsessed with these turkeys. We have gone over to the grave yard at dusk several times these last few weeks, and watch the turkeys make their way in from the field. There are four adults and several babies, and it has been fascinating to watch how they interact with each, and try to protect each as they go in. Once in the grave yard, they walk around for a bit, and then fly up into the pine trees. Of course, turkeys are not the most...aerodynamic of birds, so it is quite funny to see them struggle their way into the trees. They usually aim for the lower branches, and then jump from branch to branch when they get there.

In the short time that we have known them, the turkeys have grown from children into very near adults. There are 21 of them now. And it's very neat to watch them.

I am thankful for the turkeys.

I know I'll be back at Echo Beach some day

Ah, here in the skylarkian hometown, it is quite early in the morning. Well, really not especially early, but it feels it today...perhaps because I got caught up playing Halo2 last night, and then reading Stuart McLean and seeing the sisters skylark. Also, it is -2 degrees centigrade out. Enter the fall, with a vengeance.

The return to the HSWSNBN has been, by and large, a good one. The fall sees some returning faces--some of which I never thought I'd see again--but somehow, after all this time, it is actually good to see them.

When I wasn't looking...do you ever have the feeling that you aren't quite who you think you are? (Or, in this case, thought you would be?) Not that I am dissatisfied with my life at the moment, and for the most part I like the person that I am. I guess that this is just not the person that I thought I would be when I was almost 25.

The Skylark Report

Every once in a while, it seems wise to report on what is going on in my life. These last few weeks have been quite eventful. In the span of 28 days, I have a) quit THSWSNBN for good, b) started my 'real' job as a high school teacher, c) taught, d) been bullied by students, e) enjoyed the company of my students, f) made friends, g) been 'surplused' by the school board, h) put on the supply list, and i) been rehired by THSWSNBN.

I also saw Tom Petty in concert with my dad, reconnected with old friends, loved a boy, and started working on my Hallowe'en costume.

It goes a little something like this:


The "A" dress (top left corner) in green fabric. And, I'm thinking, no stupid veil.

Losing my job three weeks in to the semester was a pretty bad thing...definitely not the way one intends to start out a career. But my co-workers were exceptionally supportive, and they will be throwing me several large bones in terms of supply work. And in the end, I really do think things will be okay.

I just have to take things one day at a time. And tomorrow's day, it turns out, my beautiful cousin is getting married. She is the first in our family to get married, so this is a pretty exciting event for all of us.

an inconvenient verity

A crew (perhaps the new Teen Nerd Squad) went to see Al Gore's movie about himself and that pesky global warming problem. It was a good time, though not quite what I expected--it was a LOT more about Al Gore than I would have imagined, and while he is an interesting guy and a good speaker, I would like to say this: Dude, no one has forgotten about that time that you won the popular vote but lost the presidency because of the electoral college. We get that your system of government is antiquated and needs work. I just don't really see what that has to do with global warming, so much.

But the climate focused parts are awesome, and come with some really interesting visuals. The criticisms of global warming are quite mind-boggling in their own way: even in my own [relatively short] lifetime, I can see the differences in the seasons of my childhood and the seasons.

So: climatecrisis.net is full of good info for you. Stay open.

my poor, beautiful place

Is it possible for something to be seemingly impossible and inevitable, all at the same time?

At any rate, the inevitable and the impossible did finally happen at The Historic Site Which Shall Not Be Named. (Obviously enough, it is named in the article.)

This is seriously one of the saddest things to ever happen to me. What a terrible last week of work.

I'm too tired and sad to be me anymore

Things That Did Not Go Right for me Today:
+forced to leave early for work because sister forgot to mention that we were picking up coworker, thus leaving me without time to make lunch
+given a job that involved not doing anything in isolation, despite other things needing to be done
+temperatures of 33 degrees, plus humidex
+being mocked by customers for isolation
+poor peformance of asinine puppet show
+watching woman in restaurant toss and mix my salad with her bare hands, dressing and all
+being snappish and cranky because of heat
+unable to accomplish needed work at home because of heat and insistence of family that I participate in beach outing
+lack of Sweet'n'Sour sauce for chicken McNuggets, thereby rendering taste of McNuggets as simply 'fat'
+inability to admit that beach was actually enjoyable, last of productivity aside.

Things That Went Well for me Today:
+the boy bought me a pack of starburst in hopes of cheering me up

CD making

If I ever met Rob Gordon, I think he and I would have a longish conversation about how MP3 CDs are killing the art of the compilation album. I'm currently ripping a variety of miscellaneous stuff to make a CD for the boy and, who are headed to Toronto this weekend to attend the wedding of a friend. It's only an hour and a half drive, but I think this CD is going to be quite a bit longer.

It's a difficult process, this, as the boy and I have fairly different taste in music. I tend towards melodic, folk influenced indie pop (with a smattering of punk, 60s rock, and of course my weakness for the 80s) and he is a former rave kid who adores techno, particularly house. We find common ground in 80s new wave, a lot of the time, though both of us try to be fairly open minded.

The unfortunate part is that now my dad and I share something in common--we both have partners that enjoy music by listening to it over and over and over and over and OVER again. This occasionally ruins our appreciation for certain musics (particularly if it's something that both the boy and my mother enjoy, such as the soundtrack to JOseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dream Coat, because then I get a double dose of hearing it all the time--I could probably perform it acapella, singing all the parts myself, I've heard it so many times).

So, while the 'soul' and 'continuity' and 'cohesion' of the compilation CD is somewhat lost (it's hard to be cohesive when you're smushing 100+ songs together), it does have the added advantage of having a much longer replay value.

My dad is quite thrilled by this technology; he now has a CD that covers his entire Beatles catalogue, minus the 2 German tracks, the greatest hits, and Revolution #9. He also has the world's longest Bob Dylan CD and an entirely 80s one (which is awesome because there are a few 'crap song' skeletons in my dad's musical closet that have been exposed by this).

Go see Superman Returns. Bryan Singer, Bryan Singer, holy shit, Bryan Singer. If only he hadn't Xed off.

some idealistic future

I want to tell you a story. A few years ago, I took an honours seminar class on the works of Timothy Findley. The world of Mr. Findley is one of infinite wonder and madness, family and frenzy. I admire his work very, very much, and I truly wish I had been able to meet him before he died. I like to think that he and I would have much to talk about.

After I took this class, my mum began to pick up his books for me whenever she would see them in her trips to the Value Village, the Goodwill, or even at yard sales. Unfortunately, she's never remembered which books I already have, and as a result there are a few titles that I now have 3 or 4 copies of.

She bought me a copy of 'Stones' a few weeks ago. It's one of his short story collections (the one we actually read for my class, too), and the copy mum bought was the basic mass market paper back, which is substantially less pretty than my trade paperback. As a result, I didn't really pay much attention to it, and the book wound up 'hanging out' on our bar for a few weeks.

After my graduation from the BEd last week, the boyfriend was over for post-convocation shenanigans (er, supper), and as he was looking through the collection of junk that our bar attracts, he looked at the copy of 'Stones' a little more closely than my mom or I had.

As it turns out, neither my mother nor I had noticed the inscription on the title page.

I like to think about books and their previous owners. I wonder who this one was signed for, and why they were able to give it away. How strange that it should come to me...

write click

I haven't written here in a long time. That's mostly a good thing. I don't have words anymore. Not even for myself. I'm too pragmatic to be cryptic like this tonight. I feel bad and I want writing to make me feel better. I don't know if it will. I've spoken so much French these past few days that half my thinking, c'est dans une autre langue, so this may not even make sense.

The big things I can't write about. They aren't mine to write about anyway.

I wanted to have a party next week. I graduate from the BEd Friday morning, and the NB Rock City is sufficiently far from most everywhere that the majority of people will come into town the night before. So I figure that Thursday night, we have a few drinks at the University House(tm) and then head up to the pub to dance the night away. So I send out an invitation, via email, and ask people to email me back if they are coming.

As this was several days ago, and I've heard from no one...

I don't know what this means. Part of me wants to say that everyone hates me. I know (god, I hope) that isn't it. but surely someone would reply, even if to say "I'm coming over in the morning, so I can't make it"? I know I was not necessarily that well-liked this year--but I didn't think that it was like this.

If it is, though, I guess I'll just have to deal with that. I wish I knew how.

neither bang nor whimper

I am, at long last, finished school. For good this time. Honest.

Thus, I begin the next great adventure: Is there life after the books close?

I have employment for the summer. I have a few leads on more permanent things for the fall. In the meantime, I am going to enjoy life and do my best to trust that things will work out as they should.

I'm going to plan some role playing. I'm going to start writing scripts for graphic novels. I am going to get a tan. I am going to go to weddings of friends. I'm going to start planning my professional website. I'm going to start thinking about the research projects that I want to develop. I am going to create.

For the first time in my life, I am ready to move forward. I don't know if I am ready for what comes next, but I am ready to meet it head on.

On a lighter, and slightly more interesting note: New Beckett play found. This is particularly noteworthy because it was passed on to the boyfriend by a friend of ours, and the boyfriend got very, very excited about it...apparently he's never really explored the Onion before.

assorted sours, forgotten

One of my least favourite things about being sick is the way that it blunts my sense of taste. I can still taste things, but the tastes are neither as full nor as ripe (rich?) as they might be, and all things considered, Easter weekend is a bad time to lose that ability to taste, because there is just so much darn good food. Also, I just generally hate being sick.

It was a good weekend, all in all; having four days off (even four days of being sick as a very flu-y dog) is quite possibly the best thing ever. Now I just need to survive the next four days of descriptive paragraphs, research reports, and Romeo + Juliet madness. Strangely, I am starting to appreciate Baz Luhrmann's adaptation of the play--something that has been inconceivable to me to this point.

I'm a bit uncertain about the future right now (right now, of course, being a rough euphemism for "the last six months or so") and I wish that things would start falling into place a little more. I fully accept that they aren't going to, at least not in the way that I want them to...but is a little certainty too much to ask for?

stupid whistly song

Two weeks down, and only 7.5 days left to go. I am for the most part enjoying myself. Teaching English is actually a pretty good deal, though part of me still thinks my heart is in the Canadian history courses somewhere. I am in charge of a whole unit on The Great and Lamentably Tragedy of Romeo and Juliet and, wonder of wonders, I'm actually having a blast with it. Some of my students are, as well, though I think I lost a LOT of them when we got to iambic pentameter. People who lack rhythm should never have to teach such things. Note to future self: Cultivate friendship with a musician who will come in and explain iambs in a far better way than you can.

I was poking around my old diaryland site very very briefly this morning. I haven't written there in nearly three years, and there was a time where I believed very much in the importance of saving everything that I'd written. But having done the wee bit of poking that I did today, I can honestly say that I no longer have any investment in that writing or in that time of my life. For possibly the first time ever, I want to live in the now, and nothing is more now than here (or maybe podcasting. Difficult to say.)

Hurray for four day Easter weekends in Canada! I'm very excited to be going home tomorrow.

speechifying at the speed of light

Tomorrow, I have to give a speech:

Every person in this room knows [Daddy Skylark] in different way. For many—probably most of you—he was worker at the some point in the 34 years of his career. For others, he is a husband, a brother, a son-in-law, a brother-in-law. For all of us, he is a friend.

Because so many of you have known him in these ways, my sisters and I wanted to tell you about a different side of [Daddy Skylark].

Our father was blessed with a challenge. Between 1981 and 1988, he and my mother had three daughters. Outnumbered, he had to learn to navigate a new world, one of pink strawberry shaving cream, Girl Guide Cookies twice a year, and Cabbage Patch Dolls, Polly Pockets, and Precious Places.

He rose to this challenge quite admirably, learning not to leave the toilet seat up, to swallow his complaints when his razor blades were inexplicably dull, and also when the milk jug went back into the fridge empty. He also learned not to complain about peanut butter on his uniform hat, or the perpetual loss of black socks and the occasional white shirt. Do you remember, Dad, when we thought it was cool to wear your big clothes?

More than these trivial things, our dad taught us to be strong and independent. He always expected our best, and we hope, that most of the time, we’ve been able to give it.

To introduce the video that we’ve put together, I’ll use my dad’s own words whenever he comes home with a bunch of pictures to show us: “You’d better pee now. This’ll take a while.”

I've been good, as good as I can be

I have moved to Collingwood, and it seems that this business will actually be a pretty good deal for me. My apartment is quite nice; it has everything I could need, pretty much, aside from a cat. And tea. But I'm sure I will rectify that shortly.

I have a grade nine locally developed course, a grade ten academic, and a grade twelve college prep. I've only met the 9s and 10s so far, and one of my two associates, but I really think that this is going to work out well. *knocks wood*

I teach my first lesson tomorrow, on the use of poetic language and diction in Romeo and Juliet. Whee!