C'est l'Halloween

By the time I finish writing this post, it will be HALLOWEEEEEEEN. Can you tell I'm excited?

This year I had vague plans to dress up as Ellen Page or something until Julia set me straight. So I was initiated into the flapper girl plan (pictures to follow, I assure you). There will be three flappers, as well as our gent -- we conned Mark into being our gent instead and being our accessory. He was disappointed until he realized that this meant he'd get three lovely ladies hanging off his arm all night.

At first, I thought about dressing as a flapper all day, but I thought again. Does anyone else love to remember Halloween when it really was Halloween? I mean, ages 4-10, the prime years. I remember school class parties with movies and chips and Jake's mom's homemade cinnamon buns. Everyone would linger in the school yard, swapping plans for the night, coordinating meeting points, promising candy swaps the next day. I remember watching all the Halloween episodes of my favourite TV shows (Magic School Bus!) and scaring myself silly while picking at a dinner I didn't want to be eating. Finally, FINALLY, when it was dark, my mom would light the candles inside the pumpkins, and I would get to put on my costume. It felt so special and so new. A different me, for one night. I remember feeling incredible those nights. Cool night air mixed with anonymity and sugar created the best adrenaline rush. No wonder I loved it so much -- I was completely high. And loving it.

This is the first year ever that I didn't carve a pumpkin. But I will be darned if I don't do up my costume right. If I had a DVD of the Magic School Bus, that would help a lot.

Not that I've been doing much, other than read Dante...

So I hear it snowed in Ottawa!

It's a strange feeling to hear second-hand about things in your city. As much as I love Halifax and I'm enjoying living here, I still feel like I'm borrowing it. It's my home on loan -- but Ottawa is my city.

I'm not sure what to think about that. I have friends with me here who are super excited to "become Maritimers", and I love it here too. But I don't know if I'll ever really become a Maritimer. Of course, it's hard for me to really predict the future, to know how I'll feel in a year or two years or three... but Halifax right now still has a temporary "camp" feel to it, one that's connected with first months away from home. It helps that Halifax is full of students.

*****

The weekend of COMPLETE SUCK finally ended. I finished my paper, and my two journalism assignments right in time for Monday night, affectionately known now as "Shmammered Night". My friends and I started the trend for Monday, spreading the word about the DJ in the Wardroom. Not maybe first years go to the Wardroom on a regular basis, since, well, we're mostly underage and that's how it goes. But when we showed up and I started chatting with my upper year friends, they got so excited. "You guys never come to the Wardroom! Last year first years came all the time!" It's good to know the upper years don't all hate the first year students.

I'm being a tad bit bitter owing to a shitty encounter I had while part of a focus group with other King's students in other years. I questioned a bit my relationship to upper years, and the whole fypper-upper year relationship as a result, but everything is mostly back on track now. It just felt really good to feel welcome in the Wardroom.

We danced the night away and dealt with the usual Monday Night Dramas. No hickeys for me this week though*.


*Thank goodness. Last week's teasing from my bosses/coworkers was enough to last me a very long time.

Saturday Listening

What I'm listening to right now:

-a loud party next door
-my roommate in the hallway talking about her awful work shift
-a boy puking in the bathroom next door
-CBC radio three live webcast of the show I'm too young to get in to.

I may be writing my essay (well, writing... planning more like. I'm still in the planning stages.) on a Saturday night, but I am keeping hip by keeping up with the Halifax Pop Explosion -- a festival I will enjoy a lot in two years when I'm old enough to get in to the Marquee.

While lamenting my inability to see Holy Fuck, a friend looked suprised. "Friggin Ottawa kids and your no fake IDs."

The lack of all-ages music scene here is quite upsetting. I'm always hearing about all these great bands and bars that have great live music and I have to miss out. Boo.

Back to working. Let me know if you have anything helpful to tell me about St Augustine Confessions.

HOLY EFF part 2

[WOW: I just replaced the batteries in my electric toothbrush and it was NUTS. My teeth feel fifty times cleaner now. I swear, the thing is on DRUGS. Really good ones.]

I am COMPLETELY exhausted.

While going to the Q taping last night was clearly wonderful, it meant I didn't get anything done until late at night. Sleep deprivation* is no good when it's King's Open House Day and everyone you work with is running around on crack. I had a tour group of 20 people (that's big, people. That's more people than fit in a dorm room.). No matter how tired I was, it didn't matter. I was so psyched for Jian's talk.

I got there twenty minutes late -- I left my tour group in Prince Hall to eat and I motored down to the basement and sat down at the back of the classroom. JG was giving a "believe in yourself, work hard, be radical, make a difference" kind of talk, which was good, because it involved several fun stories. He was Student Union President at York. That's a good story, if you ever get to hear it.

Sitting at the back of the room, I was focused on redeeming myself. I didn't want JG's only impression of me to be "blah... I... hi... *STARSTRUCK*". I took deep breaths to push away the butterflies in my stomach and asked my question. Remember my not being able to elaborate on his style? No more. I asked about his show's style, blah blah, it was good. Clearly, he is very passionate about his work. It does come through in his show; when he's interviewing someone about a book, he reads their book. The whole thing. I can't even count the number of times I've heard "Now, I didn't read the whole thing, but..." on CBC. He makes sure he knows his shit.

After his talk ended, I went to talk to Kathryn Borel again. She told me about the Holy Fuck show at the Marquis, I told her about my being a doofus in front of JG last night (she laughed at me. Clearly. But he did recognize me today, and said "nice to see you again" !) As she was getting ready to go with Jian to Dal, she asked me for directions to the Dal building where the next presentation was. I actually knew where it was, and started giving directions in my own, personal, crazy way (it involves a lot of judgement). I was half way through my somewhat complicated directions when a Journalism prof I didn't know stepped in.

"What are you doing right now?" He asked me.
"Uh, I don't know... going to work?" I was completely confused.
"Why don't you take them there?" He suggested.

BINGO. Light goes off in my head. "YES. YES. Perfect. I will do that."

Please, can I get a fangirl squee from all of you?

During the 7 minute walk to the Dal building I chatted with Kathryn (my new fave person), discussed hair issues with JG (for two whole seconds) and accidentally insulted him. Oops. Those of you who have met me have met "first five minutes of knowing you" me, who has a strange voice, and very sarcastic. Here's what happenned as we left King's:

JG: Do we need to get a cab or something?
K & LC: No...
JG: Aren't we going to Dalhousie?
LC: Have you seen a map, or anything? Dal is right there. See that building?
JG: Wait, what's this "Have you ever seen a map of anything"? Hey!
LC: Aaaaahh...
K: Nice. From quivering mass to insulting the host.
LC: Nononononono
K: No, I admire your hutsbah.

Not gonna lie, I mostly talked to Kathryn during the walk. But he hugged me goodbye! Geez, I am such a fangirl...

My mom said she heard my cheering when she listened to the show today. I'm going to listen to the podcast to hear it.




*Neither is having the hickey that won't die.

HOLY EFF

I am trying to come up with words, but all I have is feelings. I have a want. There's this incredible, wonderful, full and yet lacking feeling that started when I walked into the Sir James Dunn Theatre and saw the Q stage set up. I want. I want this. I want to do this.

I will have to pay my dues. I will have to do shitty jobs and cover stupid, useless stories no one cares about. If I'm lucky, a local radio show. If I'm good, something national. Who knows right now. But I want a wonderful show that makes people want to listen to the radio again. I want to make people laugh. I want to give them what they didn't know they wanted. I want to talk to interesting people and get paid for it. I want to talk to audiences and do live shows. I want to talk and have many people ACTUALLY listening. I kind of also want to try producing.

I talked to Julia about this last night:
"I want to do radio. I want to host a show. ...but I think that isn't meant to be and I should just be in the control room as a producer."
It's stupid to be pessimistic. It's stupid to be cynical. Dreams can come true sometimes, right?

***

Okay, so the show was awesome. If you listen tomorrow at 10 am or 10 pm, you can hear my distinctive whoop, and also when, in the first hour, Jian says "Ontario, represent!" and no one cheers and then someone cheers, THAT'S ME. Or if you hear any coughing. Also me. I was hacking up a freaking lung (but quietly I hope -- sorry Kathryn, if you're reading. Not that you're reading anytime soon, because you're at Holy Fuck*).

Kathryn Borel is a producer at Q who did King's journalism several years ago. She emailed me after (somehow, randomly) finding my blog and reading my post CBC, my one true love. I got to meet her this evening and she was quickly off and away chatting with my friend Cameron who also went to the show. But I'm not that cool, so it's ok. I was mostly in a state of shock. However, I will give her mad props for doing a fab job keeping things rolling, and in high heeled boots, to, well, boot.

He had lots of fun people on the show, including Shaun Majumder and Geri Hall. I don't watch a lot of This Hour Has 22 Minutes, but both of them were very funny. I chatted with Geri Hall a little bit after the show and she was super friendly. I didn't know they taped here in Halifax, but now I do and I will definitely go see a taping, as I have now been invited by Geri Hall.

Jian is going to be on the show this week, as part of a segment called T-M-Zed. He filmed it just after breaking his finger. Below, he is acting out breaking his finger, with the help of Shaun Majumder. It involves a door at the Lord Nelson Hotel.


Cameron made me go up to him after, and talk to him. JG, that is, as his people call him. As in, "Does anyone have any gum for JG? Gum for the host?" Actually happened, after the taping, backstage. Too funny.

Here is what I said:

Jian: Hey
LC: Hi, um, hello, I, ah [STARSTRUCK], I am a big fan. (YESSS FIRST POINT OUT.) Could I take a picture? I love your show a lot, listen to it all the time, and ... I... *drools* like your style [forgets how to elaborate on this point] and, um. I'm a big CBC fan. I am a journalism student! [RIGHT, credibility.] at King's!
Jian: Oh, great. [yes, in a genuine way, not in a "oh no, more crazy you" way].
LC: So, I'll, um, see you at King's tomorrow. But I'll be late. But there. So... [to sum up] I love your show and I want to work at CBC. Someday. [PICTURE TIME]
Jian [to me]: What's your name?
LC: LC, I mean, La, um, Canadienne... yeah.
*I hand the camera to Cameron*
Jian: [to Cam]: Hey, how's it going?
Cameron: Pretty good.
LC: That picture had better be good!! No, I mean it. You didn't miss? I'm in it right?

My imagined JG reaction: *facepalm*


Not a bad picture.

*A concert I can't see because I'm not 19. And don't have a fake.**
**Jo Stockton and I know this isn't technically true, but is practically true.

Sweet Augustine

I'm having a hermit night.

I just turned down the lights, ignored my phone and curled up in bed to listen to CBC. It was part one of a documentary on Ideas that I've heard mostly before, about the Cathars, and I'm always intrigued when the adds for this episode come on -- I guess it's popular because it keeps on coming back. Though I've flicked it on several times, lending a half-listening ear to the radio, this time I was more prepared. In FYP, we're into our medieval section. Pause here while I try to think of an appropriate analogy to moving through the sections of FYP. We started the Ancient World, the Classical period of Ancient Greece and I freaked out, because I had such a thing for Ancient Greece around age 10. I was sad to see that section go, but that's only because I didn't understand how cool the medieval ages really were. We're hardcore into Neo-Platonism right now, and studying how the Jewish, Christian and Islamic faiths interacted and traded bits and danced around one another; Moses Maimonides's The Guide of the Perplexed was the reading for Monday.

Okay, my nerdy school moment is over, but this is all to say that I had more context for the Cathars thing this time and I lay in the dim light, cozy under the covers, and wondered how this Cathars business fits in with everything else I've been learning. I smell a post-tutorial smoking conversation with the Nodder.

The Nodder is my tutor right now; this means he is the person who spends one hour with 14 of my peers and I, guiding us through a discussion and answering our questions. His nickname comes from the fact that his head could keep time. It's a metronome for his oration. Sometimes, he'll take a two or three beat pause and collect his thoughts. He's in training to be an Anglican priest, which apparently means that he gets more and more vague every year. But not only is he somewhat hilarious, he is awesome. He revealed this to me on Friday when he mentioned D&D and I made a quiet "love D&D!" comment and he heard me. "I have a kindred spirit!" he said.

After tutorial we chatted about that and quickly moved on to Star Trek and philosophy. Every day after tutorial, Nodder heads outside for a smoke, and you can catch him there for a good chat. He suggested to me the pilot of Deep Space Nine, which I watched later that day, and it blew my mind -- Holy ek-static temporality, Batman! I'm looking forward to chatting with him about it tomorrow.

I go to the best school ever. Ever ever ever ever. A woman came on a tour the other day and asked "You can come to King's and not do FYP, right?" and I was like "Why would you?" only, clearly not, since I was working and had to make nice.


Jian Ghomeshi countdown: 2 days. OH YES. I'm psyched. I will, however, have to go half an hour late (WOE) because of tour guide work. Boo.


For Stella, some (literally) gory details: Writing this post was a little painful, as my hands are all cut up. Why is that, LC? Well, you see, when you're drunk, escaping down a fire escape sounds like a good idea, and when you come to the end of the fire escape and realize there's a drop, it seems like dropping down is easy peasy. Apparently not. I had fun with the polysporin this morning, as well as with scarves to cover up the ahem, evidence, from earlier in the night. But my full opinion on hickeys is a whole other post of its own. Suffice it to say that running into my boss in the Wardroom ten minutes after the fire escape escapade was like, the worst idea ever. "HEY!" she said excitedly, "How are you?"

"I fell down."

"What?"

"Nevermind."

Arizona and Gin

Yesterday was one of those fabulous, feel good days that make me love living here.

I was going to spend the day reading like crazy and catching up on newspapers but at about 11 am I ran into some friends in a classroom. I quickly remembered this was about 15 hours into the 24 hour crash course play festival. Ian and Gordon had finished writing their play "The Musical Broventures of Tod Dwight", a Bon Jovi rock opera. Yeah, soak that in. At that point I joined in as a backup dancer/bro ho/bro/drugster. It was way more fun than being productive on a Saturday. We managed to get quite a crowd and the dance numbers were a success, except that Shot Through the Heart was cut due to technical difficulties. Obviously, I was pretty upset.

After the show (and after much cajoling), I dressed up and headed out with Mark and Marc. I was wearing the boots that have been dubbed the "knock me down and fuck me" boots by Mark. We went downtown to Nocturne, a big art show that had all the galleries, and even some stores with displays set up, open to the public at night. We heard the last song of an outdoor concert by "I see Rowboats" that I loved and we went into a cute second-hand clothes store owned by a really cool guy. He had his grandmother's entire body of work on display, and some of the paintings were breathtaking. Apparently Justin Trudeau still has the portrait she did of his father.

It was a really nice night. I was a little chilly, and my feet hurt by the end of it (these boots were clearly not made for walking), but I loved the feeling of being completely swept up in the night. When I go out I always have a plan. Who, Where, What, When, How (I'm getting there) -- before I ever left the house, I'd always know those things, mostly because my mother would ask them all. I just got into the habit of making a fully expanded plan with backups and fallbacks, in case anything went wrong. When Mark invited me to Nocturne, he didn't have any details. I can't believe I actually went. "Where are we even going??" I asked Mark while trying to decide.

"Dude, it doesn't even matter," he told me, "you're wearing sexy boots."

As we walked around downtown, passing the bottle of mixed gin back and forth, I couldn't think of any way this night could be improved by a plan.


A totally random extra bit -- the story Mark, Maximillian and I
While we walked, we wrote a story. It was a tale of international love and art. Mark and I had met in New York and fell madly in loved. We traveled the world together, making art and I became his muse. After returning to New York, he became addicted to drugs and, though it broke my heart, I left him and went to Europe, where I met Count Maximillian (played by Marc). He was a rich german count, a lover of art, and we met at an exhibition of Mark's work. Though I still loved Mark, I became engaged to Maximillian, believing that my Mark was dead or lost in addiction.

What I didn't know is that Maximillian was such a fan of Mark's because the two of them went to Art school together. Maximillian was not so talented, in the end, and his father refused to continue paying for his education there. And now, Mark and I had met again, after so many years; I engaged to another man but still in love with Mark and he waiting for me, finally off the drugs. (Maximillian is very uncomfortable with the situation). I continue to be Mark's muse, even though I won't have anything to do with Maximillian's (awful) art. Maximillian will become more and more angry and hurt, while I am wrapped up in an affair with Mark. I smell an Oscar.

Tuesday follow-up

So that last minute essay of doom? Yeah, I rocked that. At about 5am in a sleep and tea induced haze I had this awesome breakthrough. I was like "Yo! Paul! I totally dig what you're telling the Romans!" and whatnot. It was fun. Hopefully, my middle of the night ideas stand up in the light of day when my tutor marks my paper. I'm optimistic.

The thing that sucked was that I slept not at all, and was planning on sleeping at 5pm on Wednesday night to make up for it... but instead I went to a party on a weeknight. Yikes, lecture sucked the next day.

Since I'm a tour guide, I get to do all kinds of fun stuff related to recruiting students to come to King's. Today we did something called a "Fishbowl" where we basically just hang out and prospective students ask us questions. After the Fishbowl, this one girl came over and was asking me a bunch of questions and I just walked around campus with her and answered questions for a few minutes. When she was leaving, she said to me "Thanks! You're... like... so friendly!" It occured to me that I'm a University Student. Strange.

Last night was a packed night of AWESOME. I'm in the Dance Collective's show, so I had a rehearsal for that, and then I went to a Cheese Party my upper year friends had. As I was walking there, I realized I was going to be the only first year there, which, anywhere else, would be super intimidating. Instead I had a lovely night and the subject of age never came up. And I ate a lot of Brie. Mmmmm....

My Weekend in Photos or How I Continue Not Writing My Essay

Friday night was Glow Bowling (Ten Pin!) with the grade eleven friends. All pictures of me actually bowling involved my looking like a fool. I did, however, miss my Geoffy vaiwy much.

Saturday night Davis had a Birthday/Reunion Party. At the end of said party it was affirmed that this would be The Last Party Ever At Davis's House. The end of an era. Though the party involved a lot of "let's see who's having THE BEST time at university!" I had fun. And I did homework! I got some pretty good quotes for my youth voting story.


As you can imagine, I missed my kitties very much. It seems that Rosie also missed me. Shortly after I returned home, she pulled this stunt. We decided she was trying to show me how cute she is, but she didn't quite fit into the purse, so it ended up being more awkward. I love her for trying.

Jubal has decided that he likes curling up with my sister's teddy bear. Here they are snuggling.
I miss Jack! Can you tell how much he clearly missed me?

Is it too late to start/ got your heart in a headlock

OK, so maybe Andrea is right. I have been neglecting the blog a little bit and depriving you (those of you who are interested) of the juicy details of my Haligonian life. Drastic measures may soon need to be taken. Teleconferences may need to occur.

I was just happy to hear from Andrea that my move to Halifax has not made me totally boring and irrelevant to all former readers. I was also happy to hear from Andrea period, who I have missed whilst a timezone away. Also, her dog.

It's true, I'm back in Halifax. The issue of giving this space a label is tricky. Yesterday afternoon involved a lot of this:

Dad: OK, so call us when you get home.
Mom: No dear, she IS home, THIS is her home. That's... the other place.

I mostly kept quiet during these conversations. My cousins, who are in the midst of their third year of university, threw me for a loop when I visited them the summer after first year. They told me they were enjoying seeing the family, but were quite ready to go "home" to school. I didn't get it... until last night, driving down Coburg, we got really excited. At King's we all piled out and attacked Cameron (the first friend we saw) with hugs.

It was pretty unanimous. We were all glad to be home. When family home is full of awkward and guilt and sad, school just feels so much more comfortable.


Right now, I'm supposed to be writing an essay that's due tomorrow. Scratch that, I'm supposed to be re-reading the text so I can write the essay about the topic I just chose. The plan is to stay up all night, write the bloody thing, hand it in, go to class, work in the registrar's office all afternoon and then go to sleep before supper and set my alarm for 8 am Thursday.

Mmm... sleep.

No more excuses! To work.

The end of turkey weekend

The other day while shopping with my sister and mom, I ran into Sarah and Davis at the mall.

"We actually go to King's, right Sarah? Like, we go to class and we live there and our friends are real and not just in my head, right?"

"I hope so."

Being home is so beyond incredibly weird. When I got off the plane in Ottawa, I ducked into the washroom and stood in front of the mirror. I checked my hair and my makeup and looked at myself. Did I look older? Had I changed? I tried to find some concrete proof that I'd just spent five weeks living away from home for the first time. I was totally disappointed. But my sweater looked cute, so I got over it.

My mom disagreed. "You look different. Older." she told me when I came off the escalator.

The whole weekend has been one where everything feels exactly the same, but also totally foreign. I sit on the couch, I squabble with my sister, I clean the kitchen... but I don't know the jokes and there's no ranch dressing in the fridge anymore. On Friday night I sat down on the couch, my sister came up beside me and put her hands on her hips. "That's my spot! I've been sitting there." I laughed it off, but it felt weird. That's always been my spot. I missed that couch more than I missed my own bed.

Well, back to reality. I leave today at five and I haven't started the homework due... I hate essays...

A shitty interlude

This was supposed to be a post about how nice/weird/comfy is it to be home, and I was planning on writing it today around this time, after I'd finished doing my streeter interviews for journalism.

Instead, I'm going to write an open letter to the pedestrians on Bank.

Hi friendly Saturday pedestrians,

Wasn't it a beautiful day today? It was so nice to stroll along in the sunshine, stopping into stores, or window shopping, anything really to enjoy the day. Since it was such a nice day, would you really mind standing outside for an extra 4 minutes? All I wanted was a few minutes to ask you a couple questions which, really, I wanted to be asking EVEN LESS than you wanted to be answering.

OK, I understand not wanting to think about the economy or the election during your nice afternoon, and I understand and appreciate your respectful "no, sorry"s. But please, just take a second to consider helping me out? I'd like that a lot.

And if you do kindly decide to help me out, say, since you're waiting outside a bakery waiting for your wife and daughter, I thank you. However, if you are going to help me, please respect me. The following are not decent ways to treat a human being:

-rolling eyes
-laughing at my questions
-saying "that's obvious, isn't it?" to my opinion-related questions
-telling me I should switch universities to one that teaches me something

All of the above are awful ways to say "welcome back home!" and also shitty ways to treat a person.

CBC, my one true love

Even thinking about writing the next words makes me want to jump back up and continue my happy dance of a few moments ago. Who is coming here, to Halifax, to a small classroom in the J-school at King's, but the host of CBC's radio one's Q, Jian Ghomeshi. It just so happens that Q is the only CBC show I really get to listen to anymore at all, and Jian Ghomeshi is kind of a CBC rockstar and I'm kind of a CBC fangirl... well, you get the picture. Apparently, I'm such a fangirl that when I told Sarah excitedly that a famous journalist was coming to the J-school, she actually guessed correctly. I would however, like to clear up (mom) that I am not the head of the Jian Ghomeshi fan club, but I am on the exec.

In other CBC-related news, we had a guest speaker in our Lecture class, a CBC radio business reporter named Jennifer Henderson. She did kind of a cool thing and basically made a job for herself at CBC. She has an interesting story, which I enjoyed hearing, except for the pounding headache I had. Monday is a weird night to party on, but that's King's style.

After the lecture, I went over to talk to Jennifer Henderson about taking a tour of CBC Halifax, something she mentioned at the end of her talk. We ended up chatting about my interest in working in radio, and she gave me her business card and suggested I call her after the election to figure out a tour. She also gave me advice on how to get to where I want to go (ie, CBC). I'm going to actually work on joining CKDU, so I can get some radio experience under my belt. If only I had a spare second to give.

So now I have a CBC Halifax contact. Hurray! Now I need one at CBC Ottawa so that I might get myself an internship in third year...

Classical Greek Theatre and Propeller Beer

Classics in the Quad is a treasured King's tradition. Every year, the KTS chooses a Greek tragedy and it's performed outside on the library steps. When the library was built, it was designed to support these shows.

A big crowd of King's students and friends assembled late yesterday afternoon and laid out blankets cozying up together. The weather is starting to turn here and the warmth has gone out of the air, so everyone broke out the toques and mitts and woolen socks.

Everyone in the play did a great job. They've been cramming in the practices late at night to get everything ready, and the end result was great, and much enjoyed by all. We enjoyed passing judgement on the boys in their togas.

I was so excited for the whole day. Not only was Classics in the Quad day, but it was also the rugby home opener, and a big group of us decided to go over to the field with our "fun flasks"* and cheer on the boys. We beat Holland College by like 50 points, and it was the biggest turnout for a King's rugby game in ages.
Don't we look festive?

*There's this Gilmore Girls episode where the whole family goes to the Yale Harvard football game, and there's all these traditions and cheering and warm hats and mitts and the "fun flask". It's one of the best episodes.