On Contemplating Whether Or Not To Partake In New Years Festivities

So I'm sitting in my living room, decked out entirely in Roots apparel. There's nothing I love to lounge in more. I'm feeling pretty relaxed, and ready to just become a vegetable today; nothing but reading, and maybe watching some television or a movie for me. Maybe I will wander down to Rogers Video and rent "Superbad" or something. Who knows. Maybe a little Bed, Bath, and Beyond. Well, not that last part. I made that up. They don't even have one of those in Tillsonburg.

Anyways, I digress. I'm feeling so relaxed today, I am seriously considering NOT going out for New Years. I told my parents of my lovely idea, and they looked at me, with shocked and horrified expressions on their faces.
"What kind of adolescent doesn't want to go out on New Years?" my Dad asked me.
Scowling, I informed him that I was far from an adolescent; I'm 23.
"What kind of 23 year old doesn't want to go out on New Years?" he asked.
"This one," was my reply.
My mother couldn't seem to get past her initial state of shock. She simply stood there, with a blank look on her face. I walked past both of my parents and plunked myself down on the couch.
"You have to go out," my Dad said, " Your mother and I like to run around the house naked on New Years."
I still visibly recoil at the remembrance of this statement. I knew he was joking, but no one likes to imagine their parents cavorting, in any manner. Ever. I was the product of an immaculate birth, hence my total perfection.

But seriously, they both kept trying to cajole me into agreeing to go out tonight. However, I remain fairly steadfast in my determination to remain a homebody tonight. In my defence, I have many more reasons aside from feeling incredibly lazy today. First of all, I would be going with my friends Mike and Carey (both of whom I adore) to some house party. Going with the two of them isn't an issue, but the actual location is. It would be at a party in which I will know next to no one. This usually isn't a big deal for me, as with a few drinks I can become quite the social butterfly (who can't). However, as I am kind of weary of booze these days (and seeing as my resolution is to cut down on my drinking) I wasn't planning on drinking tonight. This means that I would be left in my base element of existence; being shy. I am, contrary to what many may think of me, a very shy person at heart. It takes me while to warm up to people, when I am thrown into a HUGE mix. Granted I am much less shy than I used to be, I still retain some of my very shy qualities. And on a lazy day like today, I don't really think I would be very good in goading myself to be super friendly to complete (and most likely drunken) strangers.

In writing this last sentence, I have also come to the realization that I am, in fact, feeling quite grumpy today. I wasn't quite aware of this until just now. As such, I am even more firm in my belief that I should not attend any social (and sober) outings. I would be a Debbie Downer extraordinaire. This now constitutes my second reason for not wanting to go out tonight.

My third reason is that I fly to Thunder Bay tomorrow. My Dad argued with me that my flight isn't until 8:40pm, and hence should not impede on my ability to go out. However, with the thought of having to leave Southwestern Ontario tomorrow in the back of my head, I am really not in much of a mood to celebrate. I do feel slightly bad that I will not be able to give Mike and Carey a proper goodbye, but that is really small change. I can always call them up for a coffee or something tomorrow afternoon, if they aren't nursing terrible hangovers that prevent them from consuming liquids (or food for that matter. My hangovers of late have been of that variety).

I will more than likely look back on this post, in the months to come, and kick myself for wasting New Years 2007. I may not. Who knows. All I know is that, at this very moment, I am wallowing in a sea of laziness. No, wait. That doesn't quite fit. I am floating along a lazy river of indifference, and am quite content to do so.

Besides, I had a SMASHINGLY great time last New Years (see picture above). I can't possibly top that, so I may as well just let it retain all it's glory, while this year floats slowly out, and the new one floats slowly in. Besides, if all goes to plan, this is going to be a hectic year for me. It seems only fitting that I start it slowly, because from this point on it's going to be a wild ride.

On the Passing of 2007

With only one more day of 2007 left, I thought it would be fitting to reflect on the year that is about to end, and make some predictions on the one that is begining.

First, I must admit that for all its drama, 2007 was a very good year for me. Granted, the year got a good start from 2006 - I started my job at Roots in 2006, where I met and made what I now consider to be my best friend. I also made a handful of other friends from that job, whom I hope to continue life-long friendships with. Hopefully this distance thing won't get in the way of some good friendships. That said, 2007 started with myself in a very good place. I had a job that I loved (Roots), I had friends I could trust, and I finally had the social life I'd been waiting for my entire life. I was popular for the first time ever, and I was enjoying it immensely. I graduated from the University of Guelph, with an honours degree in History, and made family history. I was the very first Barnes (my mothers maiden name) to graduate from University. I don't think I've ever seen my parents more proud of me. It was a really rewarding experience. I miss the University of Guelph very much, and will always remember my time there as the best experience of my life. I wholeheartedly love the University, and will for the rest of my life endorse it. It did good by me. I consider myself a very competent and well rounded individual, and I owe that to the University and it's staff. Kudos to them.

I also got accepted to Lakehead University, for teachers college. As you know, I am halfway through that degree as we speak, and as much as I fault my personal experiences at the school (and in the city of Thunder Bay), I am very lucky and thankful to be there. Having completed my first placement, with flying colours I might add, I can honestly say that I am a better person because of my experience with Lakehead University. They too are doing well by me, all things considered. While I do fault the bureaucracy at the University, I cannot fault their staff; they are a dedicated bunch, who excell at what they do. I look forward to completing my degree. I know I will make a top notch teacher, and I owe all of my knowledge (though not the raw potential and skill) to Lakehead. In the coming years, we shall see how their guidance will help me.

I had a number of short lived relationships in 2007, and I can honestly say that each has helped me to become a much more mature person. For a brief period, I toyed with ideas of being a "maneater". You can ask my Roots girls, they will back up this claim. I found nothing wrong with admitting to my "manizing" ways. In fact, I was quite proud of my ability to get whatever guy I wanted, wrap him around my finger, then chew him up and spit him out. I did it more times than I care to admit, at this stage in my life. To these men, I send my sincere apologies. However, I think this phase of my life was necessary, because it showed me that I am in fact a beautiful and cunning woman, who is capable of getting whatever I want, on my own terms. I've learnt from these experiences. In 2008, a new and better Krista will emerge; one who isn't nearly as careless with hearts as she once was. I think my restless and reckless ways are coming to an end. I realize now how cruel and thoughtless I was last year. I definitely would not want my male friends to date the me of 2007. During the later part of 2007 I started to chance face (mostly due to the eye opening experiences I've had in Thunder Bay). I think I am finally ready to let myself relax into a relationship, instead of burning through men at a quick and steady pace. The time for me to settle is fast approaching. Once I graduate in April, I will be set to be a working woman. This means that I can start to set out my REAL life. My grown up life. There's no room for a free-wheeling, maneater in the real world. I'd crash and burn fast. Instead, I plan to make 2008 my year to seriously pursue a relationship with a REAL man. No more boys for this lady. I'm going to take things a HELL of a lot more seriously.

This starts with my pact to remain as alcohol free as (socially) possible. I don't want to kill my social life, but I do want to clean it up. I still plan on going out with the party animals in Thunder Bay, I just won't be drinking with them. I can have just much fun while sober. Besides, booze is increasingly becoming disgusting to me. Every time I drink it, it makes me feel ill. Even just a few beers, and I become incredibly sick of the taste. It's not for me. My body and mind are not content when I drink. So it's cut. Aside from a few social drinks, my drinking days are over. Mature adults don't need alcohol to have fun anyways. And we all know you can't meet your significant other while tanked. When and if I meet the perfect man, I want it to be on solid ground. I want to be able to impress him with my wit and beauty, not with my ability to slam back beers.

I also plan on working very hard to get a job with the school board of my choosing. I don't want to name which board that is, in case they do random google searches on their potential hirees, or something in that paranoid vein. However, I am determined to work for this board. I think the connections I made during my first placement will allow me to get steady work with the board, as a supply teacher, for the first year or two of my real life. If all goes according to plan, I may not have long to wait before a contract position comes my way. I know I can wow people in interviews, and my references are going to be GLOWING, so I just need to be presented with the opportunity, and I will succeed.

If everything goes the way I want it to go, 2008 will be MY year. I'm going to establish myself as a mature, competent, grown woman. My girlish days are over. It's time for me to grow up, and 2008 is going to be the year I do it.

On Moving Back Up To The 'Bay

I don't think I have disliked a city more than I dislike the city of Thunder Bay. Though I am not entirely sure WHY I dislike Thunder Bay so much, I know that I do. It's kind of weird, because a lot of people ask me to explain my hatred, and I have a really hard time explaining it. It's not that the city is, in itself, a terrible place. It's not ALL bad. I'm not a huge fan of how large and spread out it is, but I suppose that's a problem in any big city. Obviously, the small town girl in me is floundering in THAT aspect of a big city. The entire problem lies in the people.

Now, don't get me wrong here...I'm not saying that the native Thunder Bayians...Thunder Bayers....whatever they're called....are bad people. I have very little contact with the locals. I suppose that's half the problem; I'm a snobby outsider. Although, I'm not snobby on purpose, I just spend all my time in school and then when I'm out at the bar I'm with my B.Eders....and I don't really venture outside that circle. It's THESE people that are the problem. It is THESE people that I dislike. Again, this isn't to say that ALL the B.Eders are the problem. Some of them are quite nice, and I consider them my friends. The majority, however, I do not. I would venture as far as to call most of them acquaintances, if anything at all. I wouldn't trust these people as far as I could throw them. I've quickly learnt that almost everyone in the B.Ed program is fake. I've done a lot of thinking on this topic, and I've come up with a theory too. My theory is that most people that come to Thunder Bay for teachers college are highly aware that they are in Thunder Bay for a VERY limited amount of time. They are also aware that they are VERY far from their "natural surroundings". This allows them to create a whole new life, one that they can abandon at the end of the year, and never have to deal with again. It's like...a chance for these people to re-write who they are. They can do whatever they want, with very little consequences, because it's not THEIR life, and anything that they do will likely never reach their life "back home". The distance and the shortness of the duration allows people a lot of freedom. As such, I see people cheating on their significant others at a HIGH rate. Its totally unbelievable.

It's also insanely annoying for a person like me. I don't have this "other life" up there. I consider my time up there to be as real as my time "back here". I am myself up there, no holds barred. This has caused me a few problems, because real people clash pretty badly with fake people. I don't take lightly to the games the fake people play (and they play a lot of them). For a time, I got caught up in someone else's fake life, but I eventually realized that I meant absolutly NOTHING to the other person, and quit the situation as quickly as possible. This wasn't a very good idea, because the fake person resented my departure, and quickly spread some pretty vicious rumours about me. I'm not entirely sure what this accomplished, for him, but for me it was a major irritation. While his life up there can stand outlandish fabrications, mine cannot, because mine is real.

Anyways, the point is that I am dreading my return to this fake world...I'm not entirely sure how I should position myself this time around. My first goal was to avoid alcohol at all costs. I'm more than likely going to stick to this goal, but I can honestly forsee a few times when I will slip up. However, it is my opinion that drink only hinders my rational thinking, so I will avoid it as much as possible, to ensure that I don't make any slip-ups that could prove costly to my real life again. I need a clear head up there, to be able to navigate amongst all the fakers. It's a tough go, that's for sure. My second goal is to be extremely cautious about who I confide ANY information to. I think I can trust two people up there...my roommate and one of my male friends. I've been told not to trust the guy, but I'm going with my gut instinct, which tells me he's safe. We'll see how that pans out, in the long run. In my defense, I must admit that I am totally in love with the guy. However, rest easy knowing that he has a girlfriend, and nothing is ever going to happen there. I suffered from a few moral lapses where he is concerned, but I won't allow myself (or him) to go there again. I don't want to be that kind of person, so I won't be. Plain and simple. Anyways. I freakin' love this guy, so I trust him.

So. As much as I am dreading my return to the land of Thunder, I go with the mental preparation necessary to survive. Or at least I hope I do. If you're a praying person, pray for my success. It's going to be a rough few weeks, that's for sure.

On Being Manless in Thunder Bay

I'm having some serious problems here in Thunder Bay. Mainly, I seem to be making some pretty terrible choices, when it comes to men. Nothing new there. I can't recall a single occasion in the past two years where I've made a sound decision regarding men. Anyways, I won't elaborate any more past the point that I've developed two crushed, both on guys who have girlfriends. Both who seem to have little regard for the fact that they have girlfriends, and want to sow their wild oats. With anyone.

At first, I was kind of into the idea, with the first guy I developed a crush on; I thought I could have a friends with benefits situation, which would be ideal for my brief time spent in Thunder Bay. However, I started to have a crush on the first guy, and decided that the best thing for me to do was distance myself from that situation. I didn't want to develop feelings. So I started hanging out with another guy. I thought I could try the friends with benefits thing again, only to discover that yet AGAIN I developed feelings for the guy. This time it was a gigantic crush. It was bad news bears. So I've since decided to distance myself from that guy too, because he is even less interested in me than the first guy.

This leads me to wonder if ANY guy is capable of being truly committed to a girl. I mean, these guys won't break up with their girlfriends, but they have absolutely no problem being with me...and they made it pretty clear that I wasn't the only person they wanted to be with up here either. Which is just another reason why I've distanced myself from them. I'm all for friends with benefits, but it has to be exclusive. I don't want to get any freaky diseases because these guys can't keep it in their pants. Although I guess I am being hypocritical. They've already proven they don't care much for any form of commitment.

Anyways, back to my original idea...that no man can commit. I wouldn't have pegged the second guy for being a cheater. He's such a nice guy. Funny, smart, good looking, genuine, and kind. He's great to talk to....he's probably one of the first guys I felt I could open up to. But he's a dog...it's so conflicting. I don't quite understand it. I often wonder what his girlfriend thinks of him; what her perceptions of him are. I bet she doesn't think he'd cheat either. He must be very good at charming women, because I still don't believe it, and I've been the other woman. How smooth.

I don't think a woman could carry on this way. There is no way I could cheat on my boyfriend and be okay with it. I cheated on Adam, and I told him the following day. It weighed on my conscience too much. If I feel the need to cheat, then I know my relationship is dead. Why seek attention somewhere else if you're happy. Get it from the one you love. Although...there is that saying "If you can't be with the one you love, love the one you're with"...I think that's a mantra that all men live by. Women, not so much.

I'm not entirely sure what I'm supposed to do now. I know that being here for only 2 months at a time isn't very conducive to developing a relationship, so trying to find something up here SEEMS pointless. However, I still have feelings, needs. I'm just like any other woman out there! I'll always be looking for someone to snuggle up with. I just like being in a relationship like that. It sucks to know that basically, for an entire year, I won't be able to have that.

The only thing that pushes me on is the idea that, in a year from now, if I start working in a school, maybe I will establish a new social network that will introduce me to the man of my dreams.

I don't know. I'm such a girl sometimes. I have such girlish notions about love! But I always have, and I don't see that changing any time soon. So I'll be content to bitch and moan on here, while I pine away for someone I've likely never met, and just hope that he finds me sooner rather than later.

And Now For Something Completely Different

I know last time I wrote (briefly), I promised an expose of the Canadian medical system. However, I lost track of time the night I was planning to make write that piece, and since then I have lost my passion to show the Canadian medical system as the shitty shitty thing that it is. It's too much of a given. Everyone knows it blows. There are too many people and too few doctors, which naturally leads to long wait times. Supply and demand, people. If the supply of doctors is less than the demand that exists, there are obviously going to be problems. I was going to go in depth into my experience with this problem, but I think I would be best served to just tell anyone interested that wait times are a fact of life....so you had best get used to it, or else move to the U.S. where you can pay for it and get it right away. If you want it covered, than sit down, shut up, and bide your damn time.

Anyways. That's all I have to say about that. For now. If the doctors I work for piss me off again, who's to say that I won't come on here and finally write that expose. For the time being I'm not angry enough.

Ahem. How to write a decent segway is alluding me....so I am just going to venture off into a different topic, in an awkward fashion. Here I go!

My brother just walked into the room. I haven't seeen him for a few weeks, if not months. He's hard to recognize. This troubles me somewhat. It definetly sucks to be the older sister who doesn't live at home anymore. I feel like I am missing out on my little brother growing up. I don't know much about him, to be honest. That really bothers me. I would like to have a close relationship with my brother. I don't really think I have one with my sister. I love her, but she's very hard to get along with. She likes to piss me off, I think she gets some kind of weird pleasure out of it. It makes her very hard for me to be around. She's always got something critical to say. I can only take so much of her company, before I get sick of the very sight of her. This weekend she's already so much on my nerves, I'm trying to avoid her as best I can. I don't want to strain the relationship, and I know she's just going to say something to piss me off in typical Sheena fashion.

I spoke to soon. Just this minute she asked me to dye her hair for her. I said "I don't have much choice, so give me a few minutes". What does she do? Flip out, cause a scene, and tell me to never ask her for a favour again. Ugh. So infuriating. Anyways... I want to have a close relationship with my bro cuzI feel like sometimes he gets the bad end of the whole family dynamic; he's the youngest and the only boy. This means my mom babies him and my dad is too hard on him. My sister, typical her, is a bitch to him. I sometimes don't think she knows how to treat anyone any differently. Her approach to anyone is to be overly critcal and push them away. For what reason, I don't know. But if I think she's mean to me, she's even meaner to my brother. He can really do no right, in her eyes. Which infuriates me. Because he's a good kid. So I always defend him. I think, as horrid as this sounds, he likes me more. But I'm never rude to him, like she is. I actually want to be his friend. I want to know him more. I look at him, and don't see the brother I grew up with. I see this tall, skinny, good lookin blonde kid, that dresses cooler than I could have hoped. He looks and sounds more and more like my dad every day. That's really weird, cuz if you had asked me 4 years ago which parent I thought he looked more like I would have said my mom. Now, its definetly my dad I see in him. And since I do think I look a lot like my brother, I am increasingly seeing my dad in myself. It's weird,cuz I never before considered myself to have that "Carson" look. Now I see it. I see both my mom and dad in me, and it's kind of cool.

But anyways. I'm not sure where I was going with this. Just that I see my brother, and I realize how much he's grown, and how little I actually know about him. It bugs me. Hopefully I can remedy that some day.

Coming Soon: An Insider Expose of The Medical Profession in Canada

Stay tuned tonight for a special posting on what it's like working in the medical industry in Canada. It's going to be my tell all, and if your subject to the horrid medical system that is the Canadian Medical System you'll no doubt find it interesting.

On My Dilema With The Male Gender

I'm not sure if I have touched on this topic already, but I don't particularily care; I am going to discuss it again, because it is something that is bothering me. The topic is, of course, about men. More specifically, it is about my problems in finding and keeping one. Over the past two years, I've had a whirlwind of pointless and meaningless relationships. Everything starts out pretty great; I am always super excited, and optimistic about where things could go. Then slowly, but surely, I become disenchanted. I lose complete interest, and struggle to find ways to get myself out. I usually just let things die, by using a strategy of evasiveness. Code: I am a coward. I can admit it. I don't like the nasty "It's not working" conversation. I hate to have to say "it's not you, it's me", even though in almost all the cases that would be true. I've dated a few really awesome, nice guys in the past few months. I try so hard to stay interested in them, based squarely on the fact that they are such upstanding men. But I just can't do it. I always end up being the bitch that broke up with them by never breaking up with them.

It's terrible.

My friends all tease me. They call my problem my "two month itch", because after two months I always flake out. At first I thought something was wrong with me. Maybe I had committment issues. However, after talking things over with a much wiser woman, I've learnt that the problem isn't necessarily just me. It's both parties involved. It's called chemistry, and it fades fast if its not real. I like guys initially because of the "newness" factor. Everyone is excited during the first few stages of a relationship. All those "firsts" make things exciting. You want to experience the firsts, and seconds...but once things start going into sixths, or sevenths, you start to lose that edge. At this point, I start to see the people not as something new, but as something just there. I lose the excitement, because I'm not interested anymore. I'm bored. The chemistry is gone.

This is completely normal! It happens to everyone. It does take about two months for you to get to know someone, so it makes sense that after two months I know whether or not I like someone enough to keep seeing them.

This means that there IS hope for me. I am not doomed to be in a series of two month long relationships. Well...I am...until I find someone that has stellar chemesty with me. That's not so bleak! There has to be SOMEONE out there that will mix well with me, and keep me excited past the two month mark. Adam was able to do it, even Chad (though that only lasted 4 months and then I grew tired of him). It IS possible for me to have chemistry with people. It just can't be forced. It has to just happen.

As such, I will bide my time going through my two months with various people, and if I don't feel the chemistry brewing after two months, I will allow my itch to do its magic, and let them go.

What Two Letters Can Do For You: B.A.

A few days ago, I welcomed a new addition to my life; something that changes the very meaning and appearance of my name. What, you ask? Two simple letters (perhaps three, I'm not entirely sure how they work): B.A. (H?). Yes. It is true. I recieved my Bachelor of Arts Degree. Now, if the fancy strikes me, I can add "B.A." to the end of my name, like some kind of medal of honour (which the H stands for -- I took an honours degree; none of that useless "general" degree nonesense). I doubt I will ever add the B.A. to my name, but it is nice to know the option is there. I think nowadays it is a given that teachers at least have a B.A. I remember when I was in high school, the math teachers always included M.A., or even PhD. That always baffled me though; why have a Masters Degree or even a PhD in math at teach at a public high school!? It seemed to me like such wasted potential. However, now I am increasingly coming to see the uselessness of having a university degree. Granted if I applied for a job that someone with a high school degree applied for, I would be the natural winner, the perks seem to really stop there. Aside from being able to talk pretentiously about my terms in Guelph, I really fail to see how my four year, $40,000 degree helps me.

Lets say I did not get into teachers college (I thank God every day that I did -- and I am NOT a praying woman. God can blow me, teachers college aside). What else could I do with a B.A. in History that would not require further education? Not a whole lot. I could apply to a bunch of entry level jobs, and in my interviews talk about how my program taught me how to "think critically", or my researching skills, or my outstanding paper writing abilities. As amazing as those skills sound to me (ha), I doubt that any prospective employer would jump out of their seat, shake my hand vigorously and proclaim, "You're just the critical thinking kind of mind we NEED here. You're hired!"

I think they were feeding us the wrong message in high school. University was pushed on me like it was the be-all-end-all. I thought that if I didn't get into university, I would fail at life; doomed to a life of poverty and lonelyness, without a degree I would struggle to find work my entire life. College was looked down upon as the place stupid people went to learn the "trades". Little did I know that all the money nowadays is in the trades. People come out of college with hands on experience and training, ready for the real world. These people are not stupid. They're the smart ones. They're the ones making the big bucks. And they paid less to get there. Lucky bastards.

Meanwhile, I have to pay for another year of training, knowing that my starting wage will be roughly $40,000 a year. It'll take me an eternity to pay off my debt, and I'll be in the real world needing real world thinks like a car, and a house, and all that material nonesense that grown up people possess.

It's going to be quite the struggle, but at least I have those two lovely letters behind my name.

Sex and Candy

Don't get the wrong impression from the title of this entry. I merely am listening to an old song, and I do enjoy the idea of sex and candy together. However, there won't be any narratives of my experiences with sex and candy here. Nope. Can't say I've had much experience with either, of late.

But I do believe that is getting a tad too personal, so I will change the subject.

What I really wanted to rant about today is the high percentage of hot people in the library. I mean, everywhere I turn I run into attractive people. I'm not even exaggerating here. I had no idea that ridiculously good looking people were also academically inclined. Although...if I were to use myself ....well I'm moderately hot and I practically LIVE in the library, so I guess I shouldn't be surprised by how many hot people are here. It's quite distracting though. Especially considering the little tidbit of information I provided previously.

For example, there is this absolutely gorgeous man sitting behind me right now. I noticed him when I was trying to find a cubicle, and made it my mission to try and sit near him (for whatever reason). Unfortunately, the closest spot also happened to be one that WASN'T facing him. I was pretty disappointed, because it means that I have to actually turn AROUND to appreciate his beauty. He's this gorgeous tall and slim blond thing, with perfectly styled hair, and the most smashing tan that I've ever seen. He also seems to be rocking the punk look, which I absolutely adore. In my current state, I am tempted to just walk up to him and ask him to sex me. Ha ha ha. However, I realize how inappropriate that is (on SO many levels, so I'll just let crazy sexy scenarios play out in my head).

There is an element of hope here though; I think one of my girl friends knows him. Therefore, the chances of me meeting him one day are probable. In fact, I do believe we HAVE met previously. My drunken recollections are telling me that it was a booze-fueled, and very cold evening in Trappers (which I am slightly ashamed to admit, since it means I was in Trappers). I do believe I flirted with him shamelessly, as per usual. Drinks and me = a very straightforward attitude towards just about everything. I'm very straightforward when I'm sober, but holy shit, you get some booze in me and I tell it like it is. In all matters. Ha ha ha.

Anyways, I think I said some pretty.....R rated things, and I do believe he was game, but my girl friend decided at this moment that she wanted to leave the bar. Anyways, I'm 99.9% positive that that guy is THIS guy. Mmmmm. What a shame that I missed that opportunity.

Who knows what the future brings. I'll just make sure to party with her more, in the near future. OR I could just ask her about her sexy blond-god friend, and whether or not he likes cute blond girls.

But with my luck, he'd have a girlfriend by now, or be gay, or some other crazy scenario that means I can never have him. That's just how it goes with me.

Anyways, I am off to grab some eats.

Cheers!

Invisible Woman?

I've got some Justin Timberlake tunes blasting in my ear right now, and let me tell you...it is really making me think. Now, I can just picture the grimace on your face, so let me begin by saying that the new JT cd is absolutely smashing. I would suggest you check it out, before you make any rash judgements about my previous statement. The song that started the thought process is titled "Losing My Way". Basically, it's a song about some drug addict, who has lost everything in life, and has "lost his way". It's a no brainer.

Anyways, here are the lyrics that got to me: It is breakin me down, watchin the world spin round, while my dreams fall down. Is anybody out there? It is breakin' me down, no more friends around, and my dreams fall down. Is anybody out there? Can anybody out there hear me, cuz I can't seem to hear myself. Can anybody out there see me, cuz I can't seem to see myself. There's gotta be a heaven somewhere, can you save me from this hell? Can anybody out there feel me, cuz I can't seem to feel myself. Losin my way. Keep losin my way. Keep losin my way, can you help me find my way?"

While these lyrics are not horribly profound, in terms of meaning or prose, they somehow speak to me on a certain level. I think the thing that really gets to me is the fact that it touches on the impersonal nature of the world. I mean, I'm sitting here in the library, in a tiny little cubicle, with five other students around me. I have no idea who these people are. We are separated by the walls of the cubicle; walls that go up over my head, so I have to stand up to see anyone. I could sit here all day, and not hear a single person say my name. No one talks. There is no interaction. I could suffer from some weird instant death, and pass out the desk, and no one would notice me. They would more than likely assume that I was napping. If I took a stroll through the library right now, I could find a number of people sleeping on their desks. It's nothing out of the ordinary. We are all so disconnected from each other, that we don't take time to question anything; we always assume that everything is fine.

I think this lack of interaction is appalling. I mean honestly, it's almost scary. How many people go to this school, and how many do I know on a first name basis? I would estimate that I only know 20 or so people by name. The saddest part is that Facebook, that oh so addictive social tool, accounts for the majority of my knowledge of peoples names, at least in the beginning stages of any friendships. I find that horribly pathetic.

I mean, we would rather Facebook stalk each other than go up and actually introduce ourselves. How odd.

I should admit to something though. I do use Facebook. Not to stalk people though, because frankly that is just pathetic. I have met pretty much everyone on my friends list at least once, so I definitely don't use Facebook as a go-between for learning who people are. I have to know them first, before I add them, even if I met them randomly at the bar, or at a party.
But back to my original rant, about being so invisible to the greater world.

This ties back to (please, don't laugh at my use of pop culture references, it's all I know) an episode of Grey's Anatomy that was on TV recently. Meredith fell off the dock, and it took what seemed like an eternity for people to realize that she was missing. I think it was Addison that made the statement wondering if anyone would notice if she went missing. In this day and age, I think it would take a lot longer for people to realize someone was missing, because of how detached we really are. I don't know my neighbours at all, so they wouldn't notice if I stopped showing up at home. I don't live at home, and only talk to my parents on our ritual Sunday conversations, or randomly on MSN from time to time. I talk to my friends on MSN constantly, so I suppose they might notice a lack of MSNing from me. But even that wouldn't be out of the ordinary for a day or so. They would probably just think I was busy with school work, or something else. The only real way that my absence would be noted was if I didn't show up at work, and I can guarantee the first emotion going through any one's head at that point won't be worry over my whereabouts; anger will run first and foremost at this stage. I'd more than likely be cursed to high heaven for missing a shift.

Anyways, the point of this random rant is that we need to really address this issue of being invisible. I get that people want their privacy today, but I feel that it is coming at the expense of something greater. We don't know each other anymore, we don't connect with each other anymore.

No one out there can feel me, because I definitely don't feel you.

Cheers.

The Five Most Brutal Weeks Of My Life

Starting today, I shall be embarking on the five most brutal weeks of my life. Aside from maybe one night a week, in which I will allow myself to cut loose, and get wickedly intoxicated, I shall be spending the majority of my time in one of three places. The first place will be in class, the second place will be at work, and the third place will be the library. If I manage to squeeze in some social time (aside from the one night a week I am already going to allow myself) it will be a miracle. I don't see that happening. This is all the more reason why I simply cannot have any sort of solid relationship until AFTER I graduate in April. Unless of course I date a party animal that only wants to see me on my one-night-a-week-drunk-fest. But that kind of guy isn't going to want to date me. No, that kind of guy is more the type that will want to take advantage of the craziness that is me drunk. Heh heh.

Anyways.

If I think about things rationally for about two seconds, it becomes clear that I don't have THAT much work on my plate. I mean, I only have three major papers due at the end of March. That's not so bad, considering I have had semesters in which I had FIVE major papers due. So three SHOULD be a walk in the park. Key would being should. For some reason, it seems as if I am blowing everything out of proportion this semester. I mean, coursework-wise. I feel as if I have this massive, three-hundred pound elephant of work on my back. Maybe it's because this semester I am working, which I have never done before in my university career. I definitely took advantage of not having a job in previous years. School is such a walk in the park if you don't have a job. I mean, seriously. I had so much free time last year. The worst part is, I didn't even party last year. All I did was read OTHER books....like...non-school books. In my "spare" time. What the HELL was wrong with me!? I ask myself every day why I was such a geek prior to this summer.

I definitely thank my job at Roots for many things, first and foremost for giving me a LIFE. Ironically enough it is now sucking that life back out of me. Circle of life, eh?

I've decided that I am going to spend every waking moment not at work in the library. I'm going to geek-out, for the remainder of the semester. I need to hammer out this research, so that I can smash these papers out of the park. It is essential that I get decent marks on my papers, because I need to pass my courses, at the very least.

I've never worried about not passing before, but this semester is really out to get me. What with a 48% and a 55% respectively, I can't afford to slack. Not that I was before. I just obviously need to work hard. Or bitch more. Either or.

So at the moment, I am waiting my History as Film class to start. I've been people watching, and making some casual observations. First of all, almost everyone in this class comes in with a friend. I appear to be one of the only exceptions. I feel slightly out of place, because I'm this solitary chica, sitting off to the side (because that is where the power outlet is) typing away on my tiny laptop. My laptop seems to garner more attention that I myself do. People will look at it, and ask me questions about it, but fail to ask any about myself. How odd. I suppose as a person I am fairly mediocre anyways, whereas my laptop is a unique specimen. Eh. The people in front of me are talking about how they bombed the midterm too. I feel slightly better about myself now. I think everyone was taking this class as a joke, and it kind of shocked everyone to realize what a douchebag marker the professor was. I mean, honestly. It's a History as FILM class. FILM. Not the most scholarly source for ANYTHING. But the professor is this young gun with something to prove, and he seems to think that making the class hard makes him a better professor. Frankly, I think he's the biggest twat on the face of the planet, because it is so obvious that he's trying super hard to be this reputable professor. I mean, it is PAINFULLY obvious. Almost like Ross Geller on Friends, when he tries to be a professor and basically fails (because he's such a socially retarded moron). Same deal with this professor. Socially. Retarded.

Alright, well I suppose I should focus on the movie now. We're watching Rebel Without a Cause, and frankly I think James Dean is a dreamboat.

Cheers!

She's Scottish, Not English, So What Does She Know?

I have one English class this semester, and it is taught by a Scottish woman. She looks eerily like Sinead O'Connor, with the shaved head and everything. I can't recall at this moment what nationality Sinead O'Connor is, but I know she is from one of the British Isles, which means she has an accent. This got me thinking. What have you heard of Sinead O'Connor these days? Not a whole damn lot. Another interesting note; since Sinead was a singer, she was probably a songwriter too. Songs are often likened to poetry...which is literature. Which could, techincally,
qualify someone to be a professor. Possibly. Hmmm. Maybe my professor IS Sinead O'Connor?

No. That's just nonsense. And not at all what I wanted to discuss today.

What I actually wanted to discuss was how totally unqualifed Sinead (which is what I will refer to the professor as for the duration of this note, since I forget her real name) is as an English teacher. I mean, she's Scottish. She's not English. Doesn't that make her first language...Gaelic or something? Or is that the Irish? I think it is the Irish. However, I'm pretty sure that the Scottish spoke, or quite possibly still speak, some language other than English.

I'm in Canadian history, not History of the British Isles, so give me a break.

Anyways, as I was saying. I got a close reading assignment back today. For those of you not in English, a close reading is essentially an analysis of a paragraph or two from a larger novel. It was a two page assignment, and I was pretty damn proud of what I had wrote. I thought I had done a smashingly great job. She, apparently, did not agree. She gave me a 55%. But what made it worse...again...was the comments. The very first sentance was, "Krista, you write wonderfully." Okay. I thought this was quite good. I read on: "However, you apparently do not know how to do a close reading." My jaw dropped. I did not get to fourth year, as an English minor, without learning how to properly do a close reading. In fact, I usually get stellar marks in English. This mark was a complete shock. Coupled with the fact that she wrote such nice comments, and then proceeded to rip me apart, it was too much for me. I sat for the rest of the class dumbfounded. I didn't absorb too much of what the professor was lecturing on, because I could not wrap my head around the fact that I got a 55% on something. Previously my lowest mark ever was a 71%. That's almost a 20% difference. Then I started to conclude that the problem wasn't with ME. It couldn't possibly be my fault. I wrote wonderfully, she said so herself. Just because my idea of a close reading wasn't her idea of a close reading doesn't mean I'm stupid. Clearly people in Scottland do close readings differently than close readings in Canada. Obviously that's the problem. She's just not used to how Canadian students do close readings.

Yah. That's it. It's not my fault she's a bad English teachers. After all, she is Scottish.

It's Cold Outside, and Dull Inside

I woke up this morning with the intention of going to the University library, to get some work done. It seems as if I cannot concentrate on doing schoolwork when I am at home. I've puzzled over this for some time, because it doesn't really make sense. The only additional element that I have at home is the television. However, it seems to be irresistible. I cannot escape the lure of the TV, even during the dreaded "daytime" programming hours, that consist of soap opera's and various home/fashion/personal interest shows. I guess if it is there, I have to have it on.

So if I were to study at home, I would have to avoid the living room. Okay....that leaves my bedroom. I suppose I would study in my room more often, if my desk were not so atrocious. I hate to use it, because it's a rather cheap item I picked up from Staples. In retrospect, it was a bad purchase, since it's not the right height for me, and hence is very uncomfortable to use for more than five minutes. That means I usually end up trying to do work on my bed (with my laptop, of course), which almost always ends up in my falling asleep. Obviously. Beds are not meant for homeworking - in fact, I would argue that beds are good for two things ONLY (which I don't need to go into detail about, since I'm sure everyone knows what two activities I am referring to).

Clearly, since I cannot resist my television, and since my bed is entirely too comfortable, the library is the only place for me (in my studious moods, that is). So I packed my laptop, a few books, pens, and my wallet, and prepared myself for the long day that was ahead. I didn't plan my exit too well though, because I ended up waiting fifteen minutes for the bus to come. I also did not dress in accordance to the weather. I had only looked outside, and it looked glorious and sunny out. I assumed that since the last few days had been fairly warm, with temperatures above zero, that I would be safe in leaving my scarf and mittens at home. Extra bulk at the library usually ends up lost or stolen. So I donned my down jacket, and headed out with my supplies stores in my lovely shoulder-bag. Upon locking the door, and facing the world, I had a few doubts about leaving my winter accessories inside. However, thinking that the bus would be along to pick me up momentarily, I decided to abandon them anyways. However, as I already stated, the bus was not on time, and I ended up freezing my hands off at the stop. Sure, you can put your hands in your pockets, but that's not even close to being as warm as a great pair of mittens (which I have).

There were maybe 5 people on the bus with me. It became very clear to me that almost all my fellow students were not in Guelph this week. No doubt a majority of them are somewhere sunny and warm, sipping on some tropical (alcoholic) beverage of some sort, thinking about what level of sunscreen they should put on today. Those bastards. The only good thing about their departure was that I actually got a seat on the bus. I usually end up standing up, grabbing on to one of the poles for dear life, while the insane bus drivers whip around every corner, and generally drive like crazy people. Honestly, I think it is mandatory that all bus drivers have lead feet. I realize that they have to really push the buses, on account of all the additional weight...but is it really necessary that they are so gas-pedal happy? It's like gas gas BRAKE, gas gas BRAKE. When I'm standing up, this sort of driving is really not appreciated. And they KNOW they make frequent stops. So why gun it the short distance to the next stop?! I think they do it just to watch everyone standing lunge forward, trying to keep their balance.

But I digress.

I spent a good 7 hours in the library today, doing research for my Canadian Cultural Identity class. It's a fourth year seminar course, and it has potential to be super easy. We got to pick any topic (on Canadian Cultural Identity) to write about. Of course, this is when I seem to encounter a drought in creative thinking. I couldn't figure out what to write about. I ended up choosing something I thought was rather clever - Quebec Nationalism - until I got the face-slapping of a lifetime last week. We had to hand in an essay proposal, outlining what we wanted to write about, with a list of sources we'd consulted to far. The professor hands them back, saying how excited he is to read about MOST of the papers. One of the girls in my class then got the "great" idea to have him tell us some of the topics people were writing about. He launches into this list including hockey, maple syrup, provincial park systems and camping, curling, bilingualism, and a few other things. He doesn't mention my topic. I start to panic, obviously. He clearly hated my idea, why else wouldn't he have mentioned it in his slew of other topics. I decide to check the mark he gave me. I quietly flip to the back of my proposal, and am horrified to see a 68, crossed out in red pen, with a 70 scribbled beside it.

The comments, in a bold and authoritative typeface, go on to tell me that "This is not a particularly well focused proposal. It is far too loose in its conceptualization and background research to make a strong enough case that you can write this paper effectively." It goes on, but it's too depressing. Just take that sentence, and magnify it about a million times, and that's what the rest of his comments entailed. I stared hopelessly at the wall, wondering when class was over, so I could run, horrified, from the room. He had no faith in my paper. He basically told me I was a retard, and that I had no hope of writing a decent paper like the rest of my classmates. The thing that really puzzled me was how he justified giving me a 70 while at the same time doubting my ability to write the paper effectively. His comments seemed to signify a crappier mark that 70. Hell, even a crappier mark than the 68 that he crossed out.

He did offer me some pointers on what to research on though, and that's what I spent my day doing. I read through some pretty dry material, but I think I've got enough information that I CAN write this paper effectively. I really want to prove him wrong now. Yet somehow I doubt that he will be pleased with anything that I write. I mean, if you take Quebec nationalism in the 1960s and 70s, and compare that to an essay on hockey....well....COME ON. No contest. Mine will be a supreme bore, and a total flop.

Although, in my defence, what kind of moron writes a fourth year HISTORY paper on the cultural significance of hockey. Seriously. I think that person is a cop-out, and a total moron. At least I've got the balls to do a scholarly paper.

Anyways, my eyes are killing me, so I think I will pop in my iPod and prepare myself for the bus ride back home. Tonight has wonderful things in store for me, in the form of more reading. Oh, the joys of being a student in their final year of their undergraduate degree. I swear to god, when I graduate I am not reading a single (scholarly) thing for a least a month. I've completely forgotten what it is to read for pleasure.

Or to not read at all, for that matter.

Grey's Anatomy Always Makes Me Cry

So I watch Grey's Anatomy every Thursday night. Coincidentally, every Thursday night, without fail, I cry. I mean this honestly. I cry every Thursday night. Not just a few little tears. Oh no, that would be fine. I get a steady stream of tears a'comin down. It's almost...embarrassing. Except that I watch it alone. So, I don't have to feel embarrassed, because no one else is there to see it. Only now whoever reads this knows. Which...means I SHOULD be embarrassed. However, oddly enough, I am not. It's fantastic. I love how anonymous the Internet can be.

So why did I cry today? If you follow the show, at all, you should know who Denny is. He's this amazing guy that Izzy...well married I guess...and then he died. When I say amazing, I mean it in the strongest sense of the word. I wasn't at all attracted to him when he first came onto the show. But slowly, as we started to see more of his personality come out...I fell deeply in love with him. He became one of the most attractive people on the face of the earth. I was rooting for Izzy and Denny the entire time. When he died, I balled and balled. I was so sad.

Anyways, back to today's crying. So Meredith was "dead" for awhile. She was talking to Denny, and he was telling her that when you die, all you get is moments with the people you love that are still living. As in, you will pass by them in the same space, and they may or may not feel you there, and you may or may not feel THEM there. So the rest of the episode was pretty sad, with Meredith dying, and then FINALLY coming back. I did not cry ONCE during that entire part. I thought, for once, that I was going to make it to the end of an episode without crying.

Then the episode ends with Izzy walking down the hallway. I saw it coming. Suddenly she stopped, dead in her tracks. And there was Denny...brushing shoulders with her. She paused, and you KNOW she knew Denny was there. In spirit. Cue the waterworks.

Why did that make me cry?! I'll tell you why. It made me want to have that kind of connection with someone. Well, someone alive. I don't know. I'm such a hopeless romantic, and a total dork. And, if you couldn't already tell, I am a bit of a crybaby.

But I'm also tough, dammit. Grrrr.

The Begining of the End

So this is how it starts. I'm not even sure I should really be doing this, since the last time I attempted to write down my thoughts, it ended up disastrously. It seems that people don't really like to read about themselves, especially if what is being said is even slightly negative. Hopefully this time I will manage to keep this both anonymous and discreet. We'll see how that goes. I'm guessing that, with my luck, it will be found ONLY be those whom I do not want to read it, while everyone else in the world remains completely clueless as to my existence.

That's usually how it goes. Besides, my life is hardly interesting enough to garner a large following. This is not to say that I lead a boring existence. In fact, I think I have entirely too much drama. Or at least I did. Things seem to have calmed down for the time being. Thankfully.

So I suppose I should begin by describing myself. My name's Krista. I'm twenty-two years old, and I'm approaching the last few weeks of my University career. It's kind of scary, because I'm unsure of what the future holds. My degree is going to be in History, with an English minor. I know what you're thinking. "What are you going to do with that?" is a standard question I have to field. In response, I usually grimace and explain that there are many options for someone with a history degree. Hell, if I wanted to, I could apply to Law School and become a top notch lawyer. Or I could...well...I could do a lot, thank you very much. However, I usually disappoint people by telling them that I've applied to teachers college. Stop laughing. I actually want to teach. I can see the look on your face. You think I am crazy. I think you are stupid. So we're even.

I find out in April whether or not I got in anywhere. I know for a fact (well...not for a fact, but...the statistics basically make what I know a fact) that I will not get in anywhere this year. Almost no one gets in their first time applying. It's insanely competitive, and a bunch of other excuses. Frankly, I hate the fact that I have to wait until April to receive the worst (or best, if heaven decides to open up and grant one of those "miracles" that I hear so much about) news of my life. I can't even really start to plan my life until then. If I knew now that I did not get in, I could have a good cry, and then move on with my life. Maybe sign a new lease here in Guelph. Instead, I have to wait around, and then find a place to sublet for the summer. Then, if I didn't get in, I've got to sublet some more, or find a lease that starts in September...which I doubt is very easy to find in a University town. The best scenario would be that I get into teachers college, sublet in Guelph until September, and then pack things up and move to my wondrous new (and short) life in Teachers College.

So that's one horrible waiting game that I have to play. The other, of course, concerns my love life. Ugh. Now that one is even messier, and unlike the deadline for Teachers College, this one has no definitive date in which everything will become clear. I've got to wait around, and see what happens. Bullshit. I should state here and now that I am THE most impatient person on the face of the earth. Honestly. Don't underestimate the level of my impatience. It's legendary. I get cranky, etc. etc. Anyways...

As I was saying, I've got to wait around until something falls into my lap. The thing is, I'm not entirely sure that I would even know it when it finally did fall. I don't really seem to know what I want from life in general, and from a man in particular. My friends all tell me that I can't be so guarded and picky. I disagree. I think more people should be picky. Working in retail, I see a lot of couples. A lot of mismatched couples. A majority of them consist of a very attractive man with a not so attractive woman. What is that about!? I want that attractive man, dammit! Why should he settle for someone who is sub par, looks wise? Oh sure, maybe she's a gem in the sack, or perhaps she's the most intelligent thing since Stephen Hawking's (or whatever that guys name is). But dammit, everyone knows that you've got to be attracted to a person! PHYSICALLY. Ha ha ha. Wow, I can't believe I got that far. I'm totally joking. Kind of. Looks are key, but not totally key. They must be part of a complete package. And I mean complete. If I guy is going to get with me, he's got to be a number of things: smart, driven, funny, considerate, attractive, and REAL. What does real entail? I'm not entirely sure, by definition, but I know it when I see it. Fake people can just...go away. I have no use for them. They are a waste of space.

Anyways. As you can see, I have very specifically vague requirements of men. I'm a complicated being, I know. I know what I want, and yet I don't. Hence my troubles.

Life is so irritating. I can't wait for everything to fall into place. Too bad that won't be for ages.

Or so it seems.