As some of you may have seen on Facebook, I had a pretty great nineteenth birthday. My friend Colin threw me a party in his room. I was feeling pretty anxious about the party before it happened. I tend to be insecure about events in my honour. I won't go into that - insecurity is unbecoming. But I have heard since that it went over quite well. Colin's room was all decorated and there was a champagne toast and at midnight we went over to the Wardroom for my free birthday drink. Here is my timeline:
9:00pm - Arrive Colin's room. Excited to party.
9:05pm - Don party hat.
9:30pm - Guests begin to arrive. Things are low-key until...
10:20pm - A huge group of people show up all at once. Shortly after, Colin encourages me to drink faster.
11:?? pm - Colin pulls out the champagne and plastic flutes for a toast. I said (slurred?) some things. Moments later, the glow sticks follow*.
11:50 pm - The party moves to the Wardroom.
12:00am - I receive my first Wardroom stamp and get to work.
For the next thirty minutes, I do various ridiculous things I can't remember: bugged people to buy me shots, got my free Wardroom birthday shot, spilled beer (not on myself), hugged everyone, lost my gray sweater, lost my party hat, and made out with Phil, briefly.
12:30am - We're kicked out of the Wardroom *
12:32am - Phil begins trying to take me to bed.
He is hampered by my attempts to pass out in inappropriate places, my impulse to chat with everyone, and Tasha taking photos. Yes, there is, unfortunately, photographic evidence of me in this state.
1:00am* ish - I pass out in bed. Happy Birthday me. I have been 19 for one hour.
I went out the next night to see New Providence play at a local bar and for drinks in the Wardroom, so I have taken advantage of being of age in a more coherent manner. And now I am off to the Wardroom for early happy hour to enjoy nineteen-ness some more.
* denotes things I learned the next day on Facebook.
Thursday, 19 November 2009
Wednesday, 18 November 2009
Something I wrote in Narrative Nonfiction Class
It only makes sense if you've seen Battlestar Galactica.
*****
There's a girl sitting across the room from me who looks exactly like Kara Thrace. The blonde hair, perfect length, little to no makeup, thin mouth, boyish style. I keep staring at her, through class, through her presentation, through the rest of class again. I try to sketch her face, but I immediately get the nose wrong. Give up on sketch, go back to staring.
I imagine she is Kara, in her dog tags and fatigues. I imagine she is here in class but flies Vipers after hours.
I imagine next that this is the ancestor of Kara Thrace and somehow her great-great-granddaughter will fight Cylons in an age of interstellar travel. I think about the implications of Battlestar Galactica as our human future. Have we already invented Cylons? Is it too late to stop it? Can we?
I imagine I tell Kara look-alike the similarity I have noted. In my mind, she laughs awkwardly and shuffles away from me toward the door. I am left all alone, in my mind, thinking of Kara Thrace.
*****
There's a girl sitting across the room from me who looks exactly like Kara Thrace. The blonde hair, perfect length, little to no makeup, thin mouth, boyish style. I keep staring at her, through class, through her presentation, through the rest of class again. I try to sketch her face, but I immediately get the nose wrong. Give up on sketch, go back to staring.
I imagine she is Kara, in her dog tags and fatigues. I imagine she is here in class but flies Vipers after hours.
I imagine next that this is the ancestor of Kara Thrace and somehow her great-great-granddaughter will fight Cylons in an age of interstellar travel. I think about the implications of Battlestar Galactica as our human future. Have we already invented Cylons? Is it too late to stop it? Can we?
I imagine I tell Kara look-alike the similarity I have noted. In my mind, she laughs awkwardly and shuffles away from me toward the door. I am left all alone, in my mind, thinking of Kara Thrace.
Saturday, 14 November 2009
Birthday post the second
I walked by the NSLC today and poked my friend Ange in the ribs.
"Tomorrow!" I said, and grinned.
But I also, momentarily, thought about going in and trying to buy booze. See if they carded me. If they did, well, I'd leave and go home. No harm done. But if they didn't, I'd have done something illegal. This could be exciting!
I never did anything exciting like that. I bitched and whined and I've waited patiently for my birthday to come up. I never even got a fake ID. Did I miss out?
Oh well, too late now. Here goes!
My friend is throwing me a birthday party and apparently has big plans to get me falling-down drunk. I think Phil will keep an eye out for me and make sure I'm OK - the party is, after all, only across the quad from my room. I'm getting nervous; it's been a while since I've had a big birthday party. People are coming, people are excited, and I hope it goes well. I hope everyone has fun. I hope I have fun too!
See you on the other side...
"Tomorrow!" I said, and grinned.
But I also, momentarily, thought about going in and trying to buy booze. See if they carded me. If they did, well, I'd leave and go home. No harm done. But if they didn't, I'd have done something illegal. This could be exciting!
I never did anything exciting like that. I bitched and whined and I've waited patiently for my birthday to come up. I never even got a fake ID. Did I miss out?
Oh well, too late now. Here goes!
My friend is throwing me a birthday party and apparently has big plans to get me falling-down drunk. I think Phil will keep an eye out for me and make sure I'm OK - the party is, after all, only across the quad from my room. I'm getting nervous; it's been a while since I've had a big birthday party. People are coming, people are excited, and I hope it goes well. I hope everyone has fun. I hope I have fun too!
See you on the other side...
Friday, 13 November 2009
Birthday post the first
Today I got my first birthday present.
Neko was walking down the hall past me when he pulled a large, homemade baguette from his backpack. "Want some bread?" he asked.
"Sure!" I grinned. "Is it a birthday present?"
"Yes" he said, "why not."
And then I had my first present.
The exciting birthday weekend of excitement has officially begun. Tonight was not exciting at all, except that I got my very last X on my hand from the Wardroom. My old roommate Emily was on hand working the door for the auspicious moment. She grinned and I said "last one!"
My friends have been turning nineteen, that magical age, since I was in grade 11. At this point, it's just dumb. It's like "really? Am I not nineteen yet? Really? I must be by now." My mom has been saying for over a year that she wishes I had a fake ID. Alas, I do not.
So, on Sunday, I cross that threshold. But it's kind of freaking me out.
"Watch out" one friend told me, "after this you have nothing to look forward to. Until you get the senior's discount."
"No!" I said, "20 is a big deal. And 21, drinking in the States." I'm not a real grown-up yet. Impossible.
"Yeah... there's still 21."
There is plenty to "look forward to", but... am I An Adult now? I don't think I'm ready for that. I think living in a house where someone else makes the rules and cooking only seldom is about as much as I can handle.
On the positive side... I can now become a raging alcoholic. Look out Ottawa - December 17*, you won't know what hit you.
*Is when I get back into town! Woo!
Neko was walking down the hall past me when he pulled a large, homemade baguette from his backpack. "Want some bread?" he asked.
"Sure!" I grinned. "Is it a birthday present?"
"Yes" he said, "why not."
And then I had my first present.
The exciting birthday weekend of excitement has officially begun. Tonight was not exciting at all, except that I got my very last X on my hand from the Wardroom. My old roommate Emily was on hand working the door for the auspicious moment. She grinned and I said "last one!"
My friends have been turning nineteen, that magical age, since I was in grade 11. At this point, it's just dumb. It's like "really? Am I not nineteen yet? Really? I must be by now." My mom has been saying for over a year that she wishes I had a fake ID. Alas, I do not.
So, on Sunday, I cross that threshold. But it's kind of freaking me out.
"Watch out" one friend told me, "after this you have nothing to look forward to. Until you get the senior's discount."
"No!" I said, "20 is a big deal. And 21, drinking in the States." I'm not a real grown-up yet. Impossible.
"Yeah... there's still 21."
There is plenty to "look forward to", but... am I An Adult now? I don't think I'm ready for that. I think living in a house where someone else makes the rules and cooking only seldom is about as much as I can handle.
On the positive side... I can now become a raging alcoholic. Look out Ottawa - December 17*, you won't know what hit you.
*Is when I get back into town! Woo!
Saturday, 7 November 2009
Remember Snow?
Friday morning at 4:30am, snow came to Halifax. I know because I was still awake, working on an assignment. All-nighters. Woo.
It was 4:15am, I had just finished half of my work, and I was hard into procrastination mode. Who procrastinates on an all-nighter, you wonder? Me. I do. I grabbed the box of Girl Guide Cookies my mother sent me and went downstairs to where my friend was working front desk.
I had just returned to my room when I turned to look out the window. In the orange glow of the lights that illuminate campus at night, I saw flakes filling the air. Every year, I forget how snow looks when it's actually snowing. How the air completely fills with flecks of white. How it's so magical.
It was fairly warm during the day, so most of the snow turned to slush, but some has stuck to the grass and roofs. It definitely looks wintery out there. The bite of the smell of snow is in the air.
I went out to meet my friends, last night, when I had finished class for the day. It just so happened I'd elected to wear a skirt and tights that day, and when I stepped out, I was reminded of another winter feeling I'd forgotten about. Girls, do you remember when you were little, how dressing up in tights and a dress and going out when it was dark outside was a special occasion? As I walked down the street at 6 o'clock, it was dark. I was cozied into my coats and hat and scarf, but the wind blew my skirt around my legs and I inhaled the snowy smell. And I felt... small. And alive. Like I was eight and on my way somewhere exciting. I smiled, and right then I saw a big group of my friends entering the house ahead of me. It made me feel warm and fuzzy. When it gets dark so early and the wind picks up, I crave companionship like no other time. It definitely makes me miss Phil all the more. Long distance is hard. I'm upset with it at the moment.
The theme of childhood continued last night. After one gathering, I went out to see Where the Wild Things Are with some friends I would consider Grown Ups (most of them time). We were all like eight-year-olds in that theater, laughing and gasping and sitting with our mouths hanging open. The movie was lovely. I cried when it was over. We walked back to the car and swapped favourite moments.
" Remember: 'Nobody listens to you, do they?' "
"Oh, and 'That was my favourite arm!' "
"And then, in the next scene, he just has a stick. No one says anything."
"And just they slept in a pile. A big pile."
"Wonderful."
It was wonderful. I came home and decided I needed to build a fort. I pulled aside my bed. I moved some chairs. I pulled my extra sheets out of the closet. I used binder clips. I moved things, I stacked things... I changed my plans... and then I failed. I stood in the middle of the room in my tank top and underwear (you can't build a fort in tights, especially not in an overheated room), with a pillow in my hand and looked at my mess. Then I picked up my mattress, put it back on the bed, arranged my covers, and curled up in them. I pushed the window wide open and smelled the snow and the night air and cigarettes from below and I made an empty promise to myself that I could - and would - build a fort. But not tonight.
It was 4:15am, I had just finished half of my work, and I was hard into procrastination mode. Who procrastinates on an all-nighter, you wonder? Me. I do. I grabbed the box of Girl Guide Cookies my mother sent me and went downstairs to where my friend was working front desk.
I had just returned to my room when I turned to look out the window. In the orange glow of the lights that illuminate campus at night, I saw flakes filling the air. Every year, I forget how snow looks when it's actually snowing. How the air completely fills with flecks of white. How it's so magical.
It was fairly warm during the day, so most of the snow turned to slush, but some has stuck to the grass and roofs. It definitely looks wintery out there. The bite of the smell of snow is in the air.
I went out to meet my friends, last night, when I had finished class for the day. It just so happened I'd elected to wear a skirt and tights that day, and when I stepped out, I was reminded of another winter feeling I'd forgotten about. Girls, do you remember when you were little, how dressing up in tights and a dress and going out when it was dark outside was a special occasion? As I walked down the street at 6 o'clock, it was dark. I was cozied into my coats and hat and scarf, but the wind blew my skirt around my legs and I inhaled the snowy smell. And I felt... small. And alive. Like I was eight and on my way somewhere exciting. I smiled, and right then I saw a big group of my friends entering the house ahead of me. It made me feel warm and fuzzy. When it gets dark so early and the wind picks up, I crave companionship like no other time. It definitely makes me miss Phil all the more. Long distance is hard. I'm upset with it at the moment.
The theme of childhood continued last night. After one gathering, I went out to see Where the Wild Things Are with some friends I would consider Grown Ups (most of them time). We were all like eight-year-olds in that theater, laughing and gasping and sitting with our mouths hanging open. The movie was lovely. I cried when it was over. We walked back to the car and swapped favourite moments.
" Remember: 'Nobody listens to you, do they?' "
"Oh, and 'That was my favourite arm!' "
"And then, in the next scene, he just has a stick. No one says anything."
"And just they slept in a pile. A big pile."
"Wonderful."
It was wonderful. I came home and decided I needed to build a fort. I pulled aside my bed. I moved some chairs. I pulled my extra sheets out of the closet. I used binder clips. I moved things, I stacked things... I changed my plans... and then I failed. I stood in the middle of the room in my tank top and underwear (you can't build a fort in tights, especially not in an overheated room), with a pillow in my hand and looked at my mess. Then I picked up my mattress, put it back on the bed, arranged my covers, and curled up in them. I pushed the window wide open and smelled the snow and the night air and cigarettes from below and I made an empty promise to myself that I could - and would - build a fort. But not tonight.
Monday, 2 November 2009
Halloween
As usual, Halloween snuck up on me and I didn't come up with a costume until the last second. My costumes never end up being all that great because I have this incredibly aversion to buying something purely for a costume. It's the cheap part of me putting its foot down. Luckily, I (and a couple friends) had the fixings for a decent gypsy costume, one of my favourites from when I was younger. It was the only costume I repeated two years in a row. I think I liked it the best because I got to wear red lipstick.
Here I am in my costume:
Before the partying portion of the night started, I went to a lecture on Dracula and the evolution of the vampire. It was given by one of my favourite King's profs, and it bolstered my mood quite well. I was feeling a little down after my dad left and wasn't feeling very Halloween-y. Curran's jokes and the scary movie clips put me right in the spooky mood.
Tonight I'm being productive. No really! I am. Journalism assignments and HOST readings have my name all over them.
ALSO: T - 13 days to my birthday. I can't wait.
Here I am in my costume:
Before the partying portion of the night started, I went to a lecture on Dracula and the evolution of the vampire. It was given by one of my favourite King's profs, and it bolstered my mood quite well. I was feeling a little down after my dad left and wasn't feeling very Halloween-y. Curran's jokes and the scary movie clips put me right in the spooky mood.
Tonight I'm being productive. No really! I am. Journalism assignments and HOST readings have my name all over them.
ALSO: T - 13 days to my birthday. I can't wait.
Thursday, 29 October 2009
A Visit
My dad arrived in town last night to visit.
I didn't get to see him until this morning. I was running late (the usual; the closer you are to something, the later you'll be) and came clomping down the stairs in my boots to find my dad sitting in front of the desk. He looked the same as I remember, the white beard, the carefully selected clothes, the stylish shades. He also looked completely comfortable and relaxed - he fit in perfectly. When my mom showed up, I remember feeling completely weirded out by her presence. I was glad to see her - but it was a colliding worlds moment. Not so with my dad. He fits perfectly.
I brought him to breakfast and a FYP lecture. Even though I am no longer a FYPer, I knew that a FYP lecture would be the best way to let my dad see what King's is all about. We planned his visit so he could see the lecture today, by one Wayne Hankey, and he did not disappoint. My dad loved it.
We poked around on campus, he saw my room, and we went out to grab a sandwich for lunch. I invited him to sit in on my afternoon class (it's only nine people, but he met my prof in the FYP lecture, and the prof invited him too) but he wanted to take off and look around Halifax. Here I'd been worrying about entertaining him, keeping him interested - I forget how good my dad is at doing that for himself.
We're going to the High Mass at the chapel this evening, so he can experience that and meet some of my friends. After dinner, he'll turn in early and I'll get some work done and we'll do it all over again tomorrow.
"You have a nice life here, it seems," my dad said over lunch.
I guess I do. But it's weird to think about this being a life. A separate life. To me, Ottawa, Halifax, it's all my life. It's all part of the same thing. But to my parents, it's a separate life. It doesn't include them. At times like these, I miss them extra, even when they're right next to me, on the end of the phone or in my city.
I didn't get to see him until this morning. I was running late (the usual; the closer you are to something, the later you'll be) and came clomping down the stairs in my boots to find my dad sitting in front of the desk. He looked the same as I remember, the white beard, the carefully selected clothes, the stylish shades. He also looked completely comfortable and relaxed - he fit in perfectly. When my mom showed up, I remember feeling completely weirded out by her presence. I was glad to see her - but it was a colliding worlds moment. Not so with my dad. He fits perfectly.
I brought him to breakfast and a FYP lecture. Even though I am no longer a FYPer, I knew that a FYP lecture would be the best way to let my dad see what King's is all about. We planned his visit so he could see the lecture today, by one Wayne Hankey, and he did not disappoint. My dad loved it.
We poked around on campus, he saw my room, and we went out to grab a sandwich for lunch. I invited him to sit in on my afternoon class (it's only nine people, but he met my prof in the FYP lecture, and the prof invited him too) but he wanted to take off and look around Halifax. Here I'd been worrying about entertaining him, keeping him interested - I forget how good my dad is at doing that for himself.
We're going to the High Mass at the chapel this evening, so he can experience that and meet some of my friends. After dinner, he'll turn in early and I'll get some work done and we'll do it all over again tomorrow.
"You have a nice life here, it seems," my dad said over lunch.
I guess I do. But it's weird to think about this being a life. A separate life. To me, Ottawa, Halifax, it's all my life. It's all part of the same thing. But to my parents, it's a separate life. It doesn't include them. At times like these, I miss them extra, even when they're right next to me, on the end of the phone or in my city.
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