Moi?

While walking down St. Catherine today, I saw a person who perplexed me. At first, I thought I saw a man. Not too alarming. Then, upon further inspection, I thought I saw a man wearing a polka dot skirt. Finally, I realized that the individual was, in fact, a woman, and a rather petite woman at that. The one noteworrthy feature about her was her legs: they were covered in fine, dark hair. While contemplating why I had first supposed the woman to be a man and whether or not her leg hair - first seen from a distance of around 20 feet and, really, imperceptible to the human eye at that distance - the woman caught me staring at her. I suppose I must have been staring rather obviously while in my contemplative state because she looked me in the eye and barked a short, "Bonjour." This was no friendly salutation. Rather, it was more of a "fuck you, you anti-feminist woman hater who despises your own sex and the glories of the natural female body." In reality, I do not hate women and I actually consider myself to be a feminist. I have even stopped shaving my legs and underarms for varying periods of time. In the end, I cut my "experiments" short and brought out the razor again because, instead of feeling natural, the presence of such hair proves a distraction, like wearing a tight headband or false eyelashes. After all, I've been shaving my legs since the age of 11 (not quite sure what the hell I was shaving, but I was thrilled with my bic). Beyond my own preferences, I've never entirely understood why shaving one's legs or arm pits is considered to be an anti-feminist statement. However, I have to admit sometimes feeling guilty about the five odd minutes a week I spend on this activity. And then there is the visceral response of seeing a genuinely hairy woman. Most of these women are at least middle-aged and live in the Greek village my mother was born in (and one of them happens to be my aunt). Is it simply that I have grown accustomed to a particular aesthetic, or does it run deeper? Do I hate the natural state of the female body? (And btw, I'm not talking here about Brazilian waxes or porn stars' bare pudendums. That's another matter entirely.)
It is entirely possible that the hairy legged woman in a polka dot skirt was simply reacting to my staring. Or perhaps I misinterpreted her "bonjour" and she was being genuinely friendly (doubtful, very doubtful). Regardless, I'm not about to revisit my non-shaving experiments: it's summer and I recently purchased three new skirts from American Apparel. So much for feminism, or whatever it is that that word means anymore.

Boo to spammers

Who is this "Bernard" character and why is he posting (spamming) comments on my blog? And what is this "thing" that we talked about? And why would I expect to make money from this blog? Especially when approximately 1.6 people ever read it?
What I'm most disturbed about is the fact that he makes it sound like I disclosed something personal to him, like the appearance of an Ebola-like rash on my palms or my communicating with the voices in my head. There is no rash, nor am I hearing voices in my head (yet).
Who are these pathetic spammers? And do they expect that anyone would actually appreciate their comments? In any event, I flagged his blog, the dumbass, and hope "Bernard" finds more useful activities to engage in. Like self-flagellation or intentional starvation.

Panda sneezing

Look at the ears!

I finished the paper eleven days ago. I wish I could say that printing it up, stapling it, and placing it in my (very annoyed) professor's mailbox was a great relief. Well, it was a relief. Unfortunately, the sense of relief lasted only about two hours, after which I experienced waves of regret and panic as I thought about a wasted year and possible grammatical errors. I am not good at messing up, at not being a perfect student. The good news is that the world hasn't ended and I'm still a graduate student. The fact that I managed to write the damn thing at all is quite a triumph, especially since the paper stopped being an academic exercise a long time ago (try 'the culmination of my emotional and intellectual failings" instead). Anyway, it's done. Finito.
All that is left is my thesis, which, in spite of my best intentions, will most likely not be handed in and defended until September. I'm really only out a month or two, especially since I can defer my summer semester (ie: I don't have to pay for it), but, once again, I am late. Goddamn.
And larger questions loom. Do I return to Calgary? For how long? What kind of job should I apply for? Do I travel? What then? Do I move to Toronto? To Vancouver? Back to Calgary? I will most likely move back to Calgary for a year, get any kind of job that pays decently, travel to India and area for 6 months to a year, and move to Toronto. But, who knows?
A PhD? Probably not. At least, not for a while (and not if my very annoyed professor gives me a very low mark). How comfortable to remain ensconced in the artificially lit halls of higher learning.
And that is all. Tomorrow I return to my daily routine of teaching, writing, and (hopefully) exercising. Tonight I drink tea and rehydrate after almost two weeks of neglectful living (well, I suppose the two-pot a day coffee habit while writing the paper can't exactly be called healthy).
Today is a sad day, too. I said goodbye to Sachi a few hours ago (fancy Sachi!) and miss her already. It was lovely hanging out with her and seeing her read from her fabulous book, "The Invisibility Exhibit." I'm very proud.
Ciao.

So, I haven't posted anything for two weeks. Why? Because I've been in my own special level of hell: me, John Brown, the American Civil War, and a really, really late paper. I usually hate writing papers. I find them intimidating to write, what with the theory and the, um, theory. But in the past I've always gotten them done and I've handed them in on time and I've gotten some pretty good grades. This time around, however, writing this paper has proven to be next to impossible. But I'm doing it. I've still got a lot left to write, but it's coming together.
Slowly.
I will write more when I emerge from hell.

ボクサーこま

This is the cat that Puss in Boots from Shrek was based on. Too cute.

Oh. Um, sorry. Posted the video of Simon's cat three times. Technical difficulties. Meaning that I'm very impatient.
In good news, I just received $450 in Future Shop gift certificates from my RBC rewards program. Hello ipod!

Simons Cat

I think I'm falling for this Simon character and his cat.