On One William Lyon Mackenzie King

Some of you may recall that I had previously mentioned, in passing, that I was writing a poem about William Lyon Mackenzie King. For those of you not in the know (and I would go so far as to scold you here, especially if you are Canadian), Mackenzie King was arguably the best Prime Minister that Canada has ever seen. Being a history major, I devoted a lot of my time (and research) into learning more about this fascinating man. I was shocked to discover that a) so few know about him and that b) the little that is known is in bad taste. Anyways, I've written a few papers on the troubles faced by King, and have generally come to love and revere the man. He was a wonderful Prime Minister, and perhaps one of the most interesting people we've ever had in power, Pierre Trudeau aside.

Now, you may be wondering why I would chose to write a poem about Mackenzie King. I would like to dispel any thoughts you may be entertaining about me being an obsessed kook. In all fairness, I would never have undertaken such a initiative, if it hadn't been requested of me. I should admit, I wasn't specifically asked to compose a poem. Rather, for my history education course, it was required that we take 40 hours to put together a unique independent study project. My professor made a list of rather interesting ideas, including writing a song, painting a picture, drawing up an idea for an historical video game etc., etc. At first, I was really put off by the idea. I'm not overly talented, when it comes to being creative. I can draw slightly better than the average person (see my artwork on this page, for proof of that), but it's not something that I would brag about, nor is it a talent I wish to pursue in an historical vein. I think the only thing I've got, in terms of creative talent, is my ability with words. I'm not trying to say I'm a great wordsmith; on the contrary, my writing is hackneyed and stereotypical. However, I do think that I can, if put to it, write slightly better than the average person. I can have a way with words, if the mood strikes me. All the reading I have done in my life has to amount to SOMETHING! Anyways, prose is one thing. I know I can tackle prose. What I have always struggled with is poetry. I hate reading it, and I hate teaching it (with a passion). However, as Winston Churchill once said, "It's not enough to do our best, sometimes we must do what is required". As such, I undertook the idea of writing a brief (though at 13 pages in Word, I doubt many would call it brief) historical poem about William Lyon Mackenzie King.

I debated whether or not to put it up here, since I don't particularly want someone stealing it and claiming it as their own. However, I'm not confident enough in my poetic ability to actually think someone would WANT to steal it and claim it as their own, and as such I am going to post it here. Feel free to read through it, and let me know what you think...

Ahem....

The Life of One William Lyon Mackenzie King
By Me, January 2008

It’s safe to say
That most people have
A rather loose view of
A rather great man.
Some could probably recite to you
A standard few
Lines of a poem, long writ
Of a Mackenzie King who,
Oft missing his Mum (and
Let’s not forget his doggy too),
Would consult the spirits anew.
The noble Frank Scott, who himself flip-flopped a lot
In terms of his own career,
(He was classified as a lawyer, activist, and poet to boot)
Once wrote a small satirical poem
Stating that King “skillfully avoided what was wrong/
Without saying what was right”,
But of course I will argue against such a thought,
Since I’d likely say the same
About any politician that has ever filed
Down the stony corridors of Parliament.

While Scott wrote mostly in jest, there is worse out there yet
Written about poor W.L.M.K.
It was said that he led a
Very Double Life by a man called C.P. Stacey.
Renowned for his military prowess, and rarely selling a book on the Best
Sellers list,
Stacey did what few historians ever achieve,
In writing a book
That was a complete left hook
To the general memory of poor Willy King.
Seedy and dark,
Was the tale Stacey wove,
Of a man who was troubled down deep.
He used what is probably the best source imaginable to historians,
Yet twisted it in ways quite bizarre.

You see, King was one of those true nostalgic souls,
Who wanted to document life.
Perhaps it was because he had no one to talk to,
Least of all a loving and doting wife,
Or perhaps old habits die hard,
Because instead of just venting (as if often the case with people today)
To some close confidant,
Who would likely have spread the tellings like jam,
King took up his pen,
In his fat little hands,
And wrote down his day to day doings.

In depth were these rantings,
Quite a relish to read,
By anyone who has a historical vein.
In fact, the diary is so juicy,
That despite King’s strong warning to have the entire thing tossed,
His literary executors made sure
That for many years to come
People would have this rare glimpse at the ready.
Made available online, anyone can peruse
The thoughts of this once great, fine man.
Although I should warn you, if you’re at all superstitious,
Like the King that Stacey would have us believe,
Then I’d gloss over with care,
The facts that King lay bare,
About his life, in this contentious diary.
For if his feelings on spirits are true,
Then my advice to you,
Is to avoid the diary like a plague,
Because if hauntings are true,
Then King just might haunt you
For reading something he intended to have destroyed for good.

Now, it seems I’m off track,
For I believe I was about to expose
The horrendous tale that was wove
By the one and only C.P. Stacey.
You see, Stacey read with delight
Passages of carnal and spiritual plight
That rocked the very core of a rather confused King.
He took what was there
And he laid it all bare, with not a care for respect of the dead.
He said that King was just a pervert,
And perhaps a bit crazy as well,
For he was said to have dreams
About many strange things
That he chalked up to being great “visions”
Of people long lost to the earth.
Stacey painted a picture of a young King,
During his college years,
Oft described to be walking,
Doing quite more than talking,
With the seediest women in Toronto.
Throughout his adult life, wrote Stacey with glee,
King would also keep the company of women
Who were married and kept,
By other men of respect,
And hinted at ideas of affairs and intrigue.

Now, as any good historian will note
It is hardly reliable to quote
A fact that isn’t quite clear.
As such, one could argue, that Stacey was hardly
In a position to make such a slander.
Regardless of intentions of malice or not,
The book served to show the Canadian public
That Prime Ministers are people too,
And that above all else, despite whatever ideas one would entertain
About the grandeur of people in power,
It all comes down to a simple known fact that even the powerful
Are human too.
We all yearn to be loved,
And perhaps talk with those up above,
In the absence of people to trust.
But the key idea to remember
Is that when push came to shove
King didn’t make decisions based on advice from the dead.
As superstitious as he was, and despite grabbling with ideas of sin and love,
The man remained morally sound
When it came to decisions
That were of great consequence to the average Canadian.

So here lies the truth,
As I will briefly introduce,
A quick rundown of what his life entailed.
Of conflict and war,
And shuffling galore;
The Life of one
William Lyon Mackenzie King.

Most will admit, through teeth that they grit
That King was a mighty political man.
He had skills that were unrivaled
By any in his day (and perhaps to this day as well).
Perhaps it’s best stated, by a man rather dated
(The historian Frank Underhill),
That King was truly “the leader who divided us least”.
While this praise is sparse in admiration,
It’s hard to say that anyone before or after King’s reign
Could be said to have done the same.

Highly educated was he, in his day and still now,
Renowned as the most educated of all the P.M.’s.
King had a fine start, born down in the heart
Of Southwestern Ontario.
Berlin, it was called, though soon changed by the cause
Of the great battle known as World War One,
To the fair town of Kitchener.
Now his grandfather, it should be known,
Was a rebel of his own great accord,
The much talked about William Lyon Mackenzie,
Leader of the Upper Canada Rebellion of 1837.
Born to a gentle family, not well off by any means,
But surely not lacking the comforts of life,
King was eventually sent off to the University of Toronto to pursue a Degree.
Graduating, with honours, in 1895, after studying
(the rather fine topics of) history, political science, economics, and law.
Such flair did he show, in the area of law,
That he did obtain a separate degree in that noble subject,
Going so far as to obtain his Masters, to boot.
While Toronto grew strong,
King decided to move along,
And took up a fellowship at the University of Chicago, and then
Off to the great American institution that is
Harvard.

To London he traveled, after having lived in the States,
But the call of Canada still rang.
For soon he returned, during the year 1900 to be exact,
To take up a civil servant job.
His abilities shone,
And he was soon moved along,
And promoted to Deputy Minister of Labour.
Here he wowed those in power, and cause quite a stir,
With the rumblings of greatness that his actions deserved.
A great diplomat he became, traveling the whole world over,
Rubbing elbows with the likes of Teddy Roosevelt, too.
Never one to slow down, he was soon given a new “crown”
Of a Ph.D, which he obtained from Harvard.
Such a title, it is known, is the first to be owned,
By any Canadian Prime Minister, then and since.

Now an academic man,
King dabbled with the idea
Of becoming a professor, who would soon
Shape the minds, of able young Americans at Harvard.
However, advice from his friend (one whom you’re sure to know, too)
Sir Wilfred Laurier, cautioned him against such a move.
For according to Laurier (and quite rightfully so),
Such a mind as Kings would be wasted as a professor.
For as grand as such a job may be,
It wasn’t grand enough to see,
What could be accomplished if King were allowed to rise higher.
To sweeten the deal, and make his opinion heard more,
Laurier offered King a seat he could never refuse;
That of the first Minister of Labour.
So in the year 1909, leaving thoughts of professorship behind,
King became a part of that great Cabinet,
Under the wing of Willy Laurier.

In 1917, with Laurier at the helm, he joined in the parliamentary debates,
For the First World War was raging,
And stances were being taken
On the contentious issue that is conscription.
Following Laurier’s lead, King firmly held ground,
For he knew what admission would mean;
Since conscription meant caging
Quebec into a war they weren’t keen on,
The Liberals began to oppose,
And were hotly denied, by Ontario’s pride,
The spot at the top of the heap.
Then, when Laurier died
(And what a sad day that was)
A leader was needed to fill those big shoes,
And who do you suppose the Liberals would chose?
The contest was close,
With W.S. Fielding throwing in his hat too,
But when push came to shove,
The Liberals knew
That the man meant to succeed Laurier was
None other than our man,
Willy King.

Now one thing I think it is imperative to know,
Is that King was a man who wished to avoid
Conflict, more than anything in the world.
He thought not in terms of his own personal gain,
But rather for the classes
And the struggles they faced.
A man of the people, he truly was that,
Not caring for big business, like his grandfather before,
He often worked to advance the young working man’s craft,
And put forth a noble effort in that.
In fact, if we’re honest
And examine the bare-bones
It could be argued, and won,
That King was the first and fore-most Prime Minister to ever espouse,
The ideals of social-welfare responsibilities
To be owned by the state.
His role of conciliator, in the years of his youth,
Was a benefit to him, now that he was king of the roost.
He ruled the bargaining table,
Like none that’d come before,
And resolved conflicts left and right, with his own personal touch
Of conciliation, healing, soothing, and restoring
Bonds of unity and harmony.

Modeling himself off the example provided
By his mentor, Wilfred Laurier,
King strove to fix the rift that existed between
The French and the English, which had resulted from
Conscription and War.
He sparred with his opponent, the hardened Arthur Meighen,
In the debates in the House,
And by ducking and dodging,
Fighting hard back and forth,
He was able to win the political war.
So he wooed the Progressives,
A sly act to be sure,
For he was able to make it
So that nothing was lost of himself.
A minority he had, in his first term in office,
And he solidly kept his composure,
To rule for four years, before taking the leap
And winning yet another election.
Majority this time, as you will easily find,
Since Quebec would always have his back,
For they would hardly entertain
Ideas that were insane,
Of backing Meighen his conscription implementing party.

His first tough decision as Prime Minister came
In the autumn of 1922,
When he was asked by reporters what Canada would do
Now that Britain had called for troops to pursue
A showdown with Turkey over the city of Chanak.
King’s feathers were ruffled by this blatant disregard
by Britain of Canada’s sovereignty.
For it seemed much to him like the Brits were beginning
To expect participation from him.
While Meighen was quick to proclaim “Ready, aye, ready”
King was much more reluctant to follow suit.
And since he was the one in a position of power,
He staunchly refused to provide Canadian support.
Now, King was no dummy, and with his finger on the pulse of the nation
He knew
That Canadians were pleased with his move.
For ever since the Great War
Canadians increasingly had no desire to become involved in a war not their own.
Thus, King took a stance that was now widely viewed
That Canada be less British than before,
And hence deserved of a little respect.

As such one could argue
That King was quite concerned
With the well-being of Canadians first.
And that in such a role,
He turned his eyes not outward,
But to national unity first.
Keeping the country united was his number one goal,
And one that he never lost sight of,
For even in times of hard bickering and fighting
He would always strive to remain true
To his one and only commitment to the people of Canada,
Of keeping the country truly strong and free
Together.

All was not easy though,
As you probably know,
For storm clouds were gathering over Europe just when
King had finally thought he’d got peace.
One slip-up King made,
And it was a large one at that,
Was to remain hopeful when faced with a choice.
For he once met the man
Who would soon lead the world
Into a smouldering, chaotic mess.
On first meeting the dreaded Hitler
King made a remarkable mistake,
In claiming that he was “a great man”
Who would one day “rank...with Joan of Arc” in leading his people to greatness.
Now, before you raise the alarm,
Let me first interject
That not everyone is perfect,
And I’d largely suspect,
That if faced with the scenario of peace versus war,
You’d likely want to expect the best
Of any that you met in the events that led up
To what could be talks of peace,
Before the final descent.

At the outbreak of war
King was smart not to commit in advance,
For he remained well aware
Of the wounds that laid bare
From the issue of conscription once passed.
But when push came to shove
It was always believed
That Canada would come to the aid of her mother.
No regrets did he have,
When decision time came,
To pledge the support of the Nation.
So in 1939, when the chips were all laid,
And the battle of Britain was to begin,
Canada took her place alongside Britain
And pledged support against the Nazis.

Now it should be well known, the role Canada played
In the Second of the Greatest of Wars.
For we fought, and we lost,
And we banded together
And lost more wealth and more blood than most nations involved did,
If you factored in our small size.
For we’re a tough sort of people,
And aren’t easily swayed,
To allow horrible things to be done
To the innocent people of the world.
So we fought bravely alongside
The most noble of men, from all walks of life and country alike.
And when things got real bad,
As we all know they did,
We pushed onwards, our guns at the ready.
When the American’s joined, we pushed harder yet still.
In the hopes that the war would soon end.
But our Generals were wary
Of a shortage of men,
And sent home a call to our ol’ Willy King,
For a Total War Effort.

King knew what this meant,
And was uneasy to allow
Such a great divide to be opened again.
For conscription was at the heart of this request,
And he remembered with horror the mess
That he had been left to repair,
When he first took the chair
Of Prime Minister, those many years ago.
In fact he had promised, when this Second War started,
That he would never allow conscription a chance,
And to break such a promise would be political suicide,
Something King did not relish with glee.
As pressure mounted from both sides of the conscription debate,
King struggled with what to do next.
Should he push conscription through, to keep the English-speaking happy,
And risk losing the love of Quebec?
Or perhaps it would be better to keep Quebec happy first,
And deal with the onslaught of hate from English-Canada later.

He waxed and he wanned,
And he puzzled for days
As to how to handle the crisis that he knew he’d soon face.
When suddenly, to his fear and delight,
He was pushed to the fore
By a call in Ontario for an election to renew
The mandate that he’d won before.
So King seized this great chance, as a way for the people to decide for him
What should be done.
He campaigned on the need for national unity,
And won a great victory indeed,
For when the dust settled he was left with not only a majority in his favour, but
Of 245 seats his fair Liberals held a strong
One Hundred and Eighty Four.

As such it appeared,
And it was greatly feared,
That with such support King could do as he pleased.
However, never the man to abuse such a power,
He remained strong in his belief that the people were the source
Of this wonderful, strong majority.
As such he maintained that he’d say true to his promises,
And avoid conscription at all costs.
But as time quickly passed,
It was quite plain to see
That such a stance could not be held for long.
So faced with the same problem that he’d though previously beat,
He sat down to work out a solution to it.
The idea soon came, to ask the people straight away,
For their opinion on the grave matter.
And so a national plebiscite was held in the year 1942,
To see if the people favoured releasing the government from it’s promise.
King knew the result, before the vote even came in,
And resigned himself to his new fate;
For conscription would be forced, whether he liked it or not,
And he really had no control over that.
Nationally they agreed
That the government should be freed
From their previous promises made.
And so King had to admit
That conscription was it,
And deal with French-Canadian anger at a later date.

However, always the cunning man,
King worked the problem round,
Till he came upon a healthy compromise;
For you see, it was he who most craftily said
“not necessarily conscription, but conscription if necessary”.
Some said this was the biggest evasion of all,
And the phrase has gone down in history,
As the greatest waffle that ever existed.
But if you look at it truly
For what it was intended to be,
It was merely a great act by a great man
To appease all the sides,
And create as little friction as possible.
For in uttering this phrase, King was able to do
Something few Prime Ministers can claim,
For he divided Canada the least
When he could have divided it the most,
By pursuing the path readily.

Two years after this policy was enacted,
Of not necessarily implementing conscription,
J.L Ralston, who was Minister of National Defense,
Came to King and declared
That the time had been met
For conscription to fall into place.
Such a demand was not met by King with much happiness
And private talks would soon end sourly,
For King called his Cabinet
And informed them, full of false regret,
That he accepted the resignation of Ralston.
In forcing Ralston’s hand
King hoped to install a new Minister of National Defense,
One A.G.L. McNaughton, who he hoped would see
The situation in a much more appealing light.
A plea was soon issued to the nation
For volunteers to come and sign up
For deployment to Europe, to fight.
However, with the death toll still mounting,
And Canadians counting those who did not return home,
The initiative failed, and soon McNaughton bailed
On his mission to avoid conscription wholly.

King was feign to admit
That the time had now come,
For him to bite the figurative bullet.
Conscription was now necessary, as far as he could see,
And so he conceded to let a limited measure begin.
Despite the differences of opinion that conscription brought to light,
Kings government managed to retain power,
Winning support of the House, and in 1945 the people,
including even Quebec, to a point.
No doubt the French were aware
Of the struggle King had put forth
To avoid such a thing as conscription.
He had resisted for as long as he could,
And gave in only when things appeared bleak.
And if you looked at the numbers, in hindsight,
The consequences of conscription were quite small
In terms of men actually sent over,
And in terms of those who did fall.

While the Second World War did still sever
The ties between English and French,
It certainly could have been worse
Had King not been the man that he was.
While bitterness over the issue flared up,
And a legacy of distrust is still felt,
It certainly could have ended much worse
Had he lead the country into conscription,
Instead of being dragged into it as reluctantly as he was.
As such, King arguably divided Canada the least,
At a time when it could have been quite horrendous.
For twenty-nine years King was able to keep
His position atop Parliament Hill.
By being impeccably polite, quite a gentleman indeed,
and thoughtful to almost a fault,
He was able to remain a great man-about-town
In the hearts of Canadians.
When he retired in 1948,
It wasn’t a grand ol’ affair,
But rather a stately speech in the House,
Met with overwhelming applause, not despair.
And following his ride off into the sunset,
The only thing that King had to lament
Was the lack of a family of his own
To share the great ending of these events.

In light of this history,
It seems frivolous to subscribe to the ideas
Posited by ol’ C.P. Stacey.
For who cares if a man loved his a dog(s) Pat so much,
That he tried to see him (them) after death.
And perhaps, in his youth,
He was known to sow his oats
With the seediest women around.
If your mother were half as “embracing” as Kings,
And turned a sharply critical eye to all those you brought home,
Then perhaps you too would turn to the streets,
In an attempt to cool your fires, so to speak.
What one does on their own,
In back rooms all alone,
Or perhaps with a few choice characters,
Is not fit to be spread
In the public like butter on bread.

What matters the most,
And should be held near and dear,
Are the grand things King did for this land.
In times of great crisis,
While Bombs blasted overhead of young soldiers
Making the ultimate sacrifice for freedom, and
Women were toiling in the factories to keep up to demand,
King rose to the top.
He kept the country together,
Which is no small feat considering the tensions that rose
During his time in the office of P.M.
I’d argue that no such Prime Minister to date
Could handle the situation with such poise, and such grace
As did the wonderful W.L.M.K.

So here lies the truth,
As I have briefly introduced,
A quick rundown of what his life entailed.
Of conflict and war,
And shuffling galore;
The Life of one
William Lyon Mackenzie King.

On SERIOUSLY Being Done Looking

I've said this a million times before, but I think for the first time in my entire life I am NOT looking for ANYTHING, man-wise. I was sitting on the bus, on my way home from the field trip yesterday, and I realized that I'm not really in a bad place, being "alone". Okay, so sometimes it gets kind of lonely when I see a cute couple snuggling, or when I hear girl friends talk about their love lives, but its nothing that I can't handle. I should just get back to my "bad girl", "man eating" ways of last year...minus the actual man eating. I don't want any more short-lived relationships. I'd rather have none at all, than a series of meaningless flings. I've also decided that, as fun as male attention can be, its not nearly as fun when it ends when the sun rises. As such, I'm going to avoid all varieties of meaningless run-ins with men. That means that I am not going to actively pursue ANY man.
This isn't to say that I will stop flirting; I think flirting is both in my nature and extremely hard to stop doing. So I think that flirting is allowed, and perfectly harmless.

If a guy is really interested in me, he will actively pursue ME. So that's what I am going to do. I'm going to sit back, and allow my man to come to me.

Maybe now that I am done looking, he'll finally make an appearance. However, I seriously doubt that he's up here in Thunder Bay; he's likely somewhere down South...perhaps teaching already. Maybe I will meet him on one of my supply jobs. Or maybe he's not a teacher at all. It doesn't really matter. I'm just saying that the probability that he's down South is much higher. AAaaanyways, I didn't want to get into this mindless blather....

...I just wanted to make an official statement that my searching days are over. I'm not even going to say I'm waiting, cuz I'm not. I'm just going to go about my life, and hopefully stumble into whatever path I'm meant to be in...

On Having An Epiphany

Not more than five minutes after I made my reflection yesterday, I got an MSN message from Josh. It was random, and awkward, and he basically said "So I'm not sure how to tell you I want to see you again without telling you that I want to see you again."
I wasn't sure if that was supposed to be his idea of a clever way of asking me out again, but regardless, it came across as rather cheesy and awkward. After some brief banter back and forth, we arranged to meet tonight for dinner, and possibly a movie. I was fine with the idea, at first. However, as I was laying in bed later that night, I was kind of pondering the whole scenario, and decided that I wasn't overjoyed at the thought of going on another date with this guy. I probably was being over analytical (although, that is typically what I do in any situation), but I started to really break the night down, and it wasn't looking good. I realized that I was never really MYSELF on the date. I felt like I was pandering for attention the entire night, because he was so freakin hard to draw out. It was like he had this huge guard up; he admitted he was a self described "dick", in fact. After reflecting on this statement, I started to recall instances in which he had exhibited rather douche-bag-able traits. His sense of humour was totally incompatible with mine; his sarcasm was dry and biting, whereas mine is always in good humour, and never full of malice. I also felt that, in order to make him come out of his hard shell, I had to make him laugh, so I kind of over-emphasized my "telling it like it is" nature. I'm never one to be ashamed to discuss ANYTHING, as my close friends will tell you. I put it all out on the table. However, I felt that last night I was putting all and MORE on the table; not necessarily about myself, but about other people. We had a minor people watching session at the coffee house, and I ripped apart everyone there, in an outlandish manner. Now, I would have probably cracked jokes about the people, regardless of who I was with, but with this guy I felt like I had to make the jokes a lot more hilarious, which meant that they had to be even more witty and biting. And they were. I'm ashamed to admit that I made one or two completely inappropriate comments (which I will not repeat here), and that it was these comments that got the best response from him. That's NOT me. The person that said those things was not an accurate reflection of ME. However, because this was probably the first time we've hung out alone, the me that I presented is the me he THINKS I am. I can't possibly continue to be THAT person. It's not worth it.

I've also decided that my admission last night that I didn't care either way how it went was a sign. If you truly like someone, you get butterflies in your stomach, and you can't wait for them to ask you out again. Obviously I was just trying to give him a chance to get those feelings started, because a part of me is so desperate for attention of the male persuasion. That is NOT a good reason to date someone. I really don't feel the spark, so there is no sense in wasting my time, and his money (as bad as that sounds, you know its true), on something that I know won't work. I don't want to date this guy, plain and simple.

Besides, I have waaay stronger feelings for C. I thought about THAT last night too...
I had a dream about C, in which we were at a party, and he was playing Pearl Jam on his guitar. I walked over to him, took the guitar out of his hands, set it aside, grabbed his face with my hands, and kissed him passionately. Then I woke up. It was awesome. That dream alone made me realize that I'd rather wait on C, than date this other guy in the meantime.

So, after my field trip tour of Thunder Bay (which I will likely recount later, in another posting) I am going to contact Josh and tell him I simply cannot make it tonight...and then when he asks me to reschedule I will tell him I'd rather not. Obviously, I won't put it in such harsh terms, but the general message will still be the same; Thanks, but no thanks.

Well, I'm off to explore Thunder Bay with my history class.

Cheers!

On My Date

So I had my date tonight, and I have to admit I am not entirely sure what's going to come of it. The guy was so hard to read...he was really sarcastic, and I had a hard time figuring out when he was joking and when he was serious. However, he did seem kind of into me. I can't tell. It didn't go horrendously, we talked the entire time, and laughed, and teased, and all that junk....but I still don't know if it will go any further than the one date. I just could NOT tell. And we didn't make any plans or anything...he waited with me to get on the bus and that was the end of that.

Anyways...I don't have a lot to say on the subject for two reasons. The first is what I already detailed above; I couldn't fuckin read the guy. The second reason is that I honestly don't care either way. If he calls me again, I will gladly go for a second date, and if he doesn't I won't care. I'm fine with whatever. It's not like I like him a lot at the moment. I am just intrigued...probably because of the hard to read thing.

Besides, I realized that I still have waay stronger feelings for C. I likes him a lot. I don't think that will go anywhere though, since I haven't seen him much this semester....

...anywaaaaaaaaaaaaayss....

That's all for now.

Cheers.

On Having A Date This Thursday

Well, it turns out that my horoscope was right.....

...you know, about not forcing things. I officially stopped forcing things after reading it, and lo and behold, things happened for me. At the ESTA 80s Party Saturday night, I was dancing up a storm, not paying any attention to ANYONE, when this guy approaches me. "I think I know you" he said.
I looked at him, very sceptical.
"Whats my name then?" I ask.
"Krista," he says.
I still think it's a hoax, and I look around to see if any of his buddies, who might happen to have class with me, are looking at us and giggling. I don't see anyone.
"What's my last name," I ask, my voice dripping with disapproval.
He says it.
I am in shock. I stand back, and look at him closer, trying to figure out who he is.
"What's your name?"
He laughs, and shrugs. "If you don't know, I don't want to tell you."
I stare at him some more.
"Come on, tell me!"
"I'm from Waterloo..." he says.
For a moment I contemplate whether he was one of Adam's friends, since he went to Laurier. But Adam only had a few friends, and this guys face doesn't match any of those characters.
"Come on, tell me your first name..." I prod him.
"Josh," he says.
I'm still perplexed, because I can't remember knowing any Josh's from Waterloo.
Then he tells me his last name, and it clicks.
I DO know him, albeit briefly, from before.
I can't recall if it was third year or fourth year that I first ran into him, but I'm starting to think it was towards the end of third year. I'm not entirely sure. Anyways, I already had him as a friend on Facebook, so I mean...that's something ha ha. I also had him on my MSN, as I found out when I got home. I'm sure you can sympathize; everyone has a few too many people on their MSN that they don't "reaally" know who they are. So anyways....we get to chatting, and dancing, and generally had a good time.
So towards the end of the night, as we are sitting down so that I can cool off (it got rather hot on the dance floor), he asks how he can go about seeing me again. I smiled at him coyly, and told him that there are many options. First, I tell him that he has me on Facebook already, and that he could message me on there. Second, I tell him that he could get my number and call me. He whips out his cell phone, and tells me to put my number in. So I do.
We dance a bit more, and then Alicia comes and tells me it's time to go. And so it is.

I don't think I have to go in depth any more than that. All that needs to be known is that I have a date with him on Thursday. Giggity.

On another note, I am in the process of writing a poem for my history class. Sounds odd, doesn't it? It is. We have to do this original independent project, and I got the "wonderful" idea to write a poem about William Lyon Mackenzie King. It's quite interesting so far, I must admit. I've got 6 pages done so far. It's going to be a long one.

Maybe I'll post it up here when it's done.

As for now, I should go...only an hour until American Gladiators is on! LOVE IT!

Cheers

On The Force Being With Me

Yesterday my horoscope told me that the "Force was with me". At first, I had a rather big laugh about this, because it was so very Star-Wars-geeky. I like Star Wars, but I definitely am not THAT geeky (meaning not geeky enough to really deserve/appreciate a horoscope saying that). However, upon further reading it wasn't really meant to be a direct Star Wars reference (although clearly whoever wrote it knew they were doing that). The horoscope went on to say that since the Force was with me, I didn't have to "force" anything in the near future. It said that I just had to "lay back" and take life as it came. It said that I could get anything I wanted, if I just willed the obstacles out of my way. I had a minor giggle over how sexual it sounded, to lay back and take it, and then I tried to consider the horoscope seriously. The first time that came to mind was my crush on C. Maybe the key to getting C to like me, and potentially date me, was to just be cool. Cooler than cool. Ice cold. this probably isn't a bad idea. Sometimes, when I get crushes on people, I tend to come on too strong. Most of the time it works for me, but lately I've been finding that it's more of a hindrance than anything else. So, if my horoscope is telling me not to force anything, I definitely won't force anything with C. If he likes me, I guess he will let me know. I'm not going to actively (and aggressively, as I am usually wont to do) pursue him. If life wants me to be with him, then my willing it to be so will be enough to make it happen. Or so says my horoscope.

So I will bind my time, and be cool, calm, and collected, and roll with the punches.

I just hope the punches come in the form of C professing his attraction to me. Or perhaps some random hot person that I am not yet attuned to....that'd work too.

I know how horrible this sounds...I will be the first to admit that I hate being alone. I detest being boyfriendless. It's a matter of fact, and one that I am not overly afraid to admit (although I don't want potential boyfriends to get word of this, because admissions like that usually scare away boys). Reading my horoscope today also shed some light onto this fact as well! Apparently all Libra's have a dislike for being alone. With this in mind, I don't feel as bad! I knew I was normal! All us Libras, boys and girls alike, like to have someone to snuggle up to, and share special moments with. The horoscope went further, to say that some Libra's even define themselves on their relationships. I must admit that in the past I definitely defined myself on my relationships. Or rather, relationship - with Adam. In retrospect, it was a pretty stupid thing to do, and I'd like to think I've learnt my lesson. I'm not nearly as clingy anymore (I would argue that I'm not at all), nor as self-conscious or distrustful. I feel that I'm at a pretty good place right now, and would probably make a really excellent girlfriend.

I don't get jealous anymore (well, everyone gets a LITTLE jealous, but now CRAZY jealous). That is to say, I don't care if my man goes out with his boys, and I don't care if he flirts (either in front of me, or not). The way I see it, if he wants to cheat, he's going to no matter WHAT. Getting jealous will only push him towards it, and make you look like a controlling weird bitch. So if he wants to cheat on me, he can do it. Nothing I can do will stop that. And if that's the kind of guy he is, then I don't want to be with him anyways!

I also hate clingy relationships. They disgust me. I need my time to be with my friends, and so does my man. So none of that for me, anymore. That shit is so high school.

Anyways, I realize that I kind of went off topic there. The point is that I am officially DONE looking for a relationship. This isn't to say I've stopped WISHING for one. Until I am IN one, I will never stop wishing for one. I'd be naive if I said I could stop caring/wishing. So I will admit to that. However, I am done pursuing men. I'm going to wait for something to fall into my lap.

Besides, my horoscope said that if I will it, it will be so. So here I am, wishing away.....

Come to mama....

On Going Through A Time Warp - To The Danger Zone

I had to include the "to the danger zone" part, because I'm going to be watching "Top Gun" on AMC later tonight. I've got the song stuck in my head. Besides, I love getting on the highway to the danger zone....

Anyways, that's totally off topic. Let me set the stage for what I really wanted to talk about.

This weekend marked the very first weekend of the semester, in which all of the Bachelor of Education (B.Ed) students were back in Thunder Bay. As such, it was marked to be the best weekend of the semester, aside from the final weekend (which is also going to include the Education Formal, which I am very excited for). Everyone was raving about how awesome the weekend was going to be; it was to be a three-day extravaganza, and it was.

Thursday night I went with my friend Steph to the Outpost, which is the campus bar. It's actually quite a good bar. It has a capacity for over 2,000 people, and has two levels. It's pretty bad ass. I got a bottle of wine Thursday afternoon, and had decided to drink half of it that night, and the other half Friday night. I did follow that plan, and it turned out quite well for me. Anyways, Thursday was a good night because this cute guy in my English class was basically eye-fucking me all night. It was interesting! I'm fairly certain that the hair was entirely the reason why I was suddenly so attractive to him. I love this hair. LOVE it. Anyways, it was blatantly obvious to me that he was trying to find a way to approach me, and possibly dance with me. One attempt included him making repeated eye contact with me, and then attempting to strike a conversation with me when he noticed that Steph could "get low". Another attempt had him literally THROW a friend at Steph. They started to kind of half-heatedly grind, while I played coy giggling and making Andie's classic :O face. I wasn't trying to repel him, I was merely trying to be coy. However, it backfired and I think he thought I was rejecting him, cuz his friend quickly disengaged and they kind of walked slowly away, as if defeated. As I was waiting for my coat at coat check, he came and stood beside me, and FINALLY iniated a conversation. The topic was lame, because it was about a pathetic presentation I had done in English that afternoon. Then as I was walking back to Steph's, we passed him, and he made another comment, that was meant to tease me. In my drunken state, I kind of shoved him, and fell into him...and we had that goofy drunken stumble. Then he ran away, yelling "Awesome presentation". SUPPPPPER lame, but nonetheless kind of ego boosting.

Friday night was Adam and Kat's birthday celebration. I finished my bottle of wine, and we went to Roxy's. It was a decent night. Nothing big happened, I just danced, and went home around 1. We got McDonalds after, which was probably the highlight of the night! ha ha!

Last night though....was interesting. I was pretty hyped for the night, above the others, because it was supposed to be a Beer Pong Tournament. I had paired myself up with the very sexy, very talented Chantelle. We came up with the awesome name "B.Ed Bunnies". I thought it was clever. Anyways, I made us both shirts, and headed to the party, with high hopes. Turns out we didn't have a lot of flip cup talent. We tried though! We came back from behind twice, and it was always down to one cup each. However, we just couldn't finish that last cup off, and so we lost the tournament. As in THE biggest losers. No wins. Not that it mattered, we had fun. I also go to flirt with the guy that I like. A lot. Shamelessly, in fact. So that was also good. Then, as the party started to peter out, things got REALLY interesting. As the final showdown was going on, my friend Todd asked if he could talk to me for a minute. I wasn't entirely sure what he was going to say to me, but I was apprehensive. Anyways, he started out by saying that he was sorry to have to tell me this, but that he wanted me to hear it from him before I heard it from anyone else. Instantly I got nervous. I asked him what he wanted me to hear. He told me that he had heard a rumour going around that said I had fooled around with him at a party last semester, and that I had thrown up on his stomach. I stared at him, totally dumbfounded. I've never even WANTED to fool around with him. I don't like him in that capacity. At all. I've also NEVER thrown up on anyone in my LIFE. The entire story was completely fabricated. Thoughts kept running through my head, like who could have made up such a stupid story.
"What party!?" I asked.
"The party at Cam's place..."
At first I wasn't mad. I asked him who he heard it from, and he wouldn't tell me. He said he just wanted me to know that he didn't start it, and that he was telling anyone who asked him that it OBVIOUSLY was not true. I told him that I was comfortable enough with myself to be content with the fact that I knew who I WAS and who I WASN'T. This is true. I also wanted him to know that things between us were cool; I knew he wasn't the one spreading the malicious rumour. However, I DID have a desire to know WHO would start spreading something like that.

The person who started the rumour has to be one of the girls that live with Cam. They are the ONLY ones who know I slept there that night. So I've narrowed it down to two people. Two people who would KNOWINGLY make up this OUTLANDISH story about me. I have no idea what their motive would be. Both girls have boyfriends, so it's not like its a jealousy thing, in terms of me "stealing boys". The only thing I can think of is that they just are jealous of me cuz I'm thin and moderately attractive. Women can be really petty like that sometimes.

Essentially, I feel as if I am back in High School once again. It's so frustrating, because I went through this shit 5 years ago, and I never thought I would have to go through it again. I really, and naievely, thought that I wouldn't have to deal with stupid gossip shit like this in my mid twenties. I guess it just goes to show you that people never change. As much as we want to think we're mature, and adult, we can never escape the petty politics of our youth.

Regardless, I am, as much as I want to NOT be, quite angry about the whole situation. It bothers me that these people want to be teachers. This type of shit is exactly the stuff that we, as teachers, have to try to stop on a daily basis. How can we possibly stop young girls from doing it, if we can't stop doing it ourselves? I know I am above spreading malicious rumours and gossip, but clearly these people are not. It's sickening.

Anyways, I could rant on and on about how absolutely ridiculous this situation is, but I think the best thing for me to do at this point is move ON. I need to get past this anger, because they are not worth it.

However, I am stating RIGHT NOW that my mission in LIFE is to STOP this vicious cycle of girls hating on girls. It has to stop. I won't stand for it in my classroom, and I won't stand for it in my personal life either. If I ever find out who started the rumours, I will confront them, and let them know exactly what kind of low person I think they are.

I hope, if you are ever faced with a similar situation, that you will do the same.

Cheers.

On Being A Sexy Beast

Straight up....................




....RAWR.



Anyways, I know this is really stupid, but I feel like a totally different, totally confident person when I have my hair extensions in. I know that they don't change who I am, but they change how I feel. It's a totally vain and appearance based thing...and I am almost ashamed to admit it. However, as horrible as it sounds, it is true. I feel that I LOOK more appealing, and as such I have gained a huge amount of confidence. I feel sub-par when I take them out. Actually, I think the best word would be...deflated. I feel deflated without them.

How utterly depressing. Ah well. I'll just put them back in...and...ahh...feeling confident and sexy again.

So I've got two crushes I suppose I could tell you about. The first crush is a carry-over from last semester. I shall call him "P". I started to develop a crush on P last semester, about mid-way through. I've got class with him, and one day I kind of noticed him sitting there, and was like "wow, that guy is really cute". And then he stood up, and he was TALL....and tall guys really get me going. So I was like "Double wow". And since then, I've kind of had one of those crushes from afar. I did talk to him once...while under the influence of alcohol. *sigh*. How sad is that? Not only do I need fake hair to be confident, apparently I also need booze. I wanted to talk to him a bunch of times after that, but I get way too nervous, and I start to blush, and can't bring myself to even say hello. So, I will just have a harmless crush on him from afar, and hope and PRAY that I don't give off the "creepy" vibe. That'd be awful...cuz it's not a creepy crush. If I see him at school I melt, and that's about it.

The other crush is, unknown to me, also a carry-over from last semester. It's on a guy I will call "C". I had class with C last semester too, and am actually FRIENDS with C. We hang out in the same "group". "The group" as we all like to call it. Anyways. We're in the same group. We've partied together a ton. We joke around ALL the time. I last semester, I just thought it was friendly feelings I had for him. However, when I revealed my crush to my room mate, Alicia, she said "Krista. You had a crush on C last semester".
"I did?" I asked.
"YES!" she said.
Hmmm. So apparently my actions made my crush obvious before my brain even realized it. Now that I think back, she's right. I did have a minor crush on him last semester. However, he was kind of involved in this really weird "love triangle" last semester. Apparently that's over now though, which means I have room to maneuver. Now I don't have to worry about stepping on any toes - unless the girl still has feelings for him, which she probably does. Oh well...all's fair in love and war. I'm gonna probably hit on him a bunch this weekend. We'll see where that goes. With my awesome new hair, I'm thinking that he'd be a fool to turn this down. But then again, he knows the real me....so that's not so foolish of a rejection to make. Heh heh. I'm the most terrible kind of person. I'm aware.

I thought that I detected some flirting today in class. I will test this theory in class tomorrow. Although P is ALSO in tomorrow's class. Although who am I kidding...I can talk to C, because we were friends first. I can't talk to P, because he remains this out of reach hottie.

I'll keep you posted on the high jinks of this weekend. It's bound to get out of hand, and you will definitely want to know.

Cheers.

On Getting Wicked Hair Extensions

I don't have much time to blab right now, but I just wanted to express my EXCITEMENT about finally receiving my FULL HEAD SET of extensions today!!! I got them off eBay for $67.99, and they are worth EVERY penny. They're real human hair, clip on extensions. It's an 8 piece set, and it is amazing. I also tried to get a colour that is closer to the colour I have on my hair now, and I think I've got it! It's called Ash Brown, and it is fabulous. They are 20" of pure awesome. I look ravishing with them in. I will post a picture as soon as I take one with them in. Until then, I can only encourage people to get some for themselves; they are well worth it. However, don't bother paying retail price for them (which is in the hundreds of dollars, if its REAL human hair). Go on eBay. I bought from a Canadian seller, hairannex, and they are fabulous. Very fast shippers, and good prices.

Anyways, that's all for now.

Cheers!

On Hating This Place

I'm not in the mood to talk, in depth, about how much I truly hate this place. I also doubt that you really want to read another post in which I bitch and moan. As such, I'm just going to say that it has become increasingly apparent to me that not only does Lakehead teach people had to work in a primary and secondary school environment, it also gets them back into the mindset of the very people who inhabit those schools. That is to say, I feel as if I am right back where I started, those many moons ago. Pettiness runs rampant.

However, I've decided to keep with my resolution, and rise about this shit. Hence, I am not going to perpetuate stupid actions by discussing them here. At least not THIS time.

The point remains though, that I hate this place.

Cheers.

On Spending Time Alone

I've been in Thunder Bay for three days, and I am already insanely annoyed with my room mates. So far, only Dan, the 17 year old, is here. However, he is, by far, THE most annoying person on the fact of the earth. First of all, he tries to interact with me as if I'm his "friend". I am not his friend. He annoys the living shit out of me, and I can't stand to be in the same room with him. He grosses me out, to no end. He's hideously ugly, inconsiderate, and smells like greasy sweaty hair. If you know what that smell is like, you will know how disgusting it is. I don't think he showers very often, because he ALWAYS smells terrible, and his hair is greasy and disgusting looking at all times. And if he does shower, I have the sneaking suspicion that he's never bought shampoo, because his hair NEVER looks clean. I think this contributes to his disgusting smell. His stench is so bad, that it lingers on the furniture. Trust me, I wish I was kidding. There are these two red pillows on the couch, that he always lays on, and every time I sit near them the smell that wafts off them is enough to make me gag. I always toss them as far away as possible when I sit on the couch. I cannot even begin to truly describe how disgusting this kid smells.

He is also trying to impress me all the time, by making sexual comments or drinking beers. It's like he thinks that I'm impressed by sexually promiscuous drunks. News flash, kid; I'm not. At least he's done hitting on me. In September, he used to talk about how I was his "hot" room mate all the time....and make disgustingly lame attempts to touch me. It was freaky. One time, as he tried to come in for a hug, I started to back away. I was totally terrified. I did NOT want him to touch me. He pursued me, and I stepped back so quickly I slammed into the door. I ended up with this gigantic bruise on my lower back, because I hit the door handle so hard. THAT'S how badly I wanted to avoid him. He's the creepiest and most annoying person on earth.

He's also one of the most LAZY people I've ever met....but you know what, I don't really want to get into it any more than I already have.

Another of my room mates is supposed to return tomorrow. I'm kind of divided between how I feel about this. On the one hand, she's a decent person. On the other, she has these little idiosyncrasies that drive me coo-coo-banana's. Again, I won't really delve into describing what these annoying habits are, just understand that they drive me crazy. I also spend almost all my time with her, since we're in all the same classes AND we live together. This wouldn't be so bad, except we're two totally different people. I always get the feeling that she's looking down on me. It's fairly obvious to me that she thinks she is better than me. Maybe she is, I'm not really one to judge stuff like that. Anyways, I always get this vibe from her, when we're around other people AND when its just her and I, that she thinks I'm a complete idiot. And a whore. It's rather irritating, since I'm neither. Now, I could go on and on, and write exactly what I think on the matter, but in the hope of avoiding any further drama should someone unwelcome read this and rat me out, I will remain silent.

Suffice it to say, I am almost wishing that I lived alone up here. I know that living alone can have its downsides, but at the same time so does living with room mates.

So tonight, while Dan is at work, I am enjoying my very last solitary moments here in Thunder Bay. Tomorrow my time alone will be severely limited....

Cheers

On The Memory Of Scent

Today I feel like "ugh". I know this doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but that is exactly how I feel. I woke up around 9:30, which was pretty satisfactory, and lay in bed for while. I was wrapped up in my comforter, a down blanket, and a was snuggling my Spongebob. Yah. You read right, I snuggle with Spongebob at night. Anyways. I was laying there, snug as a bug, fighting with myself about getting up. The air around my face was cold, and my body did not want to be subjected to that. I hunkered down deeper in my blankets, trying to convince myself that it was alright to just lay around. However, being my father's daughter, I couldn't justify doing nothing, so I reluctantly hauled myself out of bed and into the bathroom.

I've got a strict morning routine. I always shuffle into the bathroom and turn on the shower. That's the first order of business, no matter where I am. Then, while the water is warming up, I pee. Always. It's like all the fluids I drank the previous night waited patiently while I slept, and as soon as they hear the trickle of water come out of the shower head, they want to violently burst forth. So I let them. Then, when the bathroom is starting to get nice and steamy, I get into the shower. I think one of my favourite things on earth is to be in the shower. It's such a relaxing experience. At the same time, it re-invigorates me; wakes me up. I need to have a shower in the morning, otherwise I function at half levels. I got myself nice and wet, then reached for my shampoo. As I was lathering up, the smell of the shampoo cascaded over me. I breathed it in, and my brain was bombarded with the word "Thunder Bay". I paused for a moment, letting this thought sink in. Could a smell really signal a place to me? I thought about this for a bit, and realized that, yes, smells do really signal time and place for me. I realized, when I was in Tillsonburg, that the smell of Dove shampoo reminds me of first year. When I contemplated as to why this was, I realized that all through first year I used (almost exclusively) Dove shampoo and conditioner. Similarly, whenever I smell Garnier Fruitcus (however the hell you spell that) shampoo it reminds me of second year (for the same reasons as previously stated). I couldn't think of what shampoo I associated with third or fourth year, but I know that whenever I smell Bed Head by Tigi it will remind me of this summer, because that's primarily what I used. And now, I realized, Infusium23will always remind me of Thunder Bay. Weird how that happens.

I also know that certain perfumes remind me of certain time periods in my life as well. Whenever I smell Ralph by Raplh Lauren, Eternity Moment by Calvin Klein, or Swiss Army I am reminded of my time with Adam. Hypnose by Lancolm reminds me of fourth year, as does my bottle of Hot Couture (Givency). I've got Armani Mania to remind me of Thunder Bay. I find that smells will trigger memories in my more than anything else. In fact, even seeing something familiar doesn't trigger memories as easily as smell.

I'm reminded of a moment in my life that I care to forget, but is one that will forever be tied to me, in the form of smell. When I was in grade 4, my Grandma Carson died from stomach cancer. Being only 10 years old, her death didn't hit me as hard as it would now. It hit my Dad, however, very hard. It triggered his depression, and he lapsed into a very severe bought of it. For two or three years, he was extremely moody and cranky. It was a hard period for my family, because it seemed like he was always mad. It was never really discussed that my Dad had a disease, so I had no idea what was going on. When I was in grade 6, things got really bad. Christmas had become my Dad's most hated time of the year, probably because he missed his mother. Whatever, the causes, he was miserable to be around. He openly said he hated Christmas, and refused to be involved in anything. He really withdrew, the Christmas of 1996...it was a little upsetting for me at the time, but I was getting used to his moods. Anyways, Christmas passed with little incidence....then around New Years, we decided to go visit some family friends in Simcoe. They just got a puppy, so we decided to let them borrow our dog cage, for the puppy to sleep in. For some reason, we had difficulty fitting it into our van (which baffles me now, since it was a VAN), and this really upset my Dad. He started screaming and yelling, and my Mom and him got into a huge fight. The whole time, my sister, brother and I were sitting in the van, ready to go. My brother started to cry, and then my sister. Soon, I was telling them to stop fighting, and I too broke into tears. Finally, my Dad stormed off, saying he wasn't going to come. My Mom slammed the cage into the back of the van, got into the car, and peeled out of the driveway. The three of us were still crying in the back. My Mom, in her nicest, softest voice, told us to stop crying. She said Daddy was just cranky, and that when we got back he'd be all better. So we stopped crying, and enjoyed the car ride, and the subsequent visit to our friends.

When we got home that night, Dad wasn't home. We walked into the kitchen, and Mom told me the set the table for dinner. We were going to have Western Omelettewhich is basically scrambled eggs with onions and green peppers, that you put on toast and eat like a sandwich. I notice that she's reading a piece of paper on the counter. She's crying. I ask her whats wrong, and she says "Nothing, finish setting the table". She beats the eggs, and fries the onions and green peppers, before mixing them all together. The smell of the onions, peppers, and eggs cooking floats around the kitchen.

Once dinner is ready,we all sit down to eat. Someone, I can't remember who, asks where Daddy is. "Your Dad decided he needed some time away" was along the lines of what she said. She said this with some contempt in her voice. I'm not exactly sure what was going through her head, and I've never had the guts to ask her. Anyways, as I'm chewing on my first bite I notice red and blue flashing lights outside the window. I point them out to my mother, who puts her sandwich down on her plate and sits perfectly still. A moment later the doorbell rings. My Mom gets up, and in a choked voice tells us to go into the family room. We all put our sandwiches down, barely started, and go into the family room. I shut the door behind us.

After a few moments, my Mom opens the door to the family room. She's crying. We're all seating in the middle of the floor, I don't know what we are doing. I just remember being there. My Mom kneels down on the floor, and tells us that the police were here to tell us that Daddy is very sick, and he tried to kill himself. We all burst into tears. Being the oldest, I'm sure I am the only one with a clear grasp, at the time, of what this meant. I remember wondering how he tried to do it, and where. I'm the one who asks if he is alright. Mom says he's at the hospital, which is just down the street from our house. I ask how long he will be there, and she says "Until he gets better". We're all crying, and hugging. I'm not hungry anymore, and I doubt anyone else is either. All I can think of is my Dad, and all I can smell is those dreaded Western Omelet.e's

To this day, whenever someone makes a Western Omelette's I refuse to eat them. The very smell of them brings back a rush of emotion. I feel like I am 12 years old again, being told that my Dad tried to kill himself. The very smell of them makes me feel weak, powerless, and unloved. I know now that my Dad didn't try to do it because he didn't love me; he did it because he was a very sick man. He was so depressed that he thought his existence was negatively impacting everyone around him. Suicide is a very selfish act, but at the same time it's a desperate cry for help. My Dad needed help, and he got it. While that period of my life was probably the hardest thing I have ever had to go through, it made me a stronger person. It also opened my eyes up to the devastating illness that is Depression. While I can sometimes see signs of it in myself, I know that I won't ever let myself get that bad.

In case you were wondering, my Dad got the help that he needed. He was away, in hospitals, most of the year that I was 12, but I would rather have him be gone for that year and return the man he is now, than have him gone from my life forever. I'd like to say they cured my Dad, but there really is no cure for depression. However, when he finally came home, he was no longer the moody, angry Dad that I had grown to know; he was back to his playful self, the Dad that had existed prior to my Grandma Carson dying. He's still that Dad, and I love him more than anything.

Anyways. I totally didn't intend for this post to be this personal, or this sad. However, once I get started down a certain path, it's hard for me to stop. I guess it's probably better that you read about this part of my life, because it really shaped who I am as a person. I'm a strong person because I could withstand that, and I can withstand a hell of a lot more.

The only thing I can't stand, is the smell of Western Omelette. Keep those away from me, hee hee.

On Trying To Be Positive

I was going to start this post by bitching about how horrible my flight experience up to Thunder Bay was, reflecting on how the bad start was likely an omen to how the rest of my nine weeks here were going to be equally as bad. However, just as I started to write a depressing title for the post, I realized that if I stayed in the mindset that the next nine weeks are going to be hell, they will be hell. I'm a fairly firm believer in the idea that life is what you make it. If you go into something thinking it is going to suck, it IS going to suck. However, if you go in with even a shred of hope that it will be fun, then it will likely be fun. So, with that in mind, I have decided that I am not going to go into this semester with a negative mindset. It's the home stretch, as my pal Andie said. I can do this. In fact, it won't even be that bad. I like to think that I'm a pretty strong willed person. I can put up with a lot of crap, without outwardly complaining (though I will inwardly complain here, and maybe to a few close friends. Everyone needs a vent!). So I can plow through these nine weeks, with a smile of my face!


Now, onward!

As you probably gathered, I am now in Thunder Bay. I arrived last night, 2 hours after my flight was scheduled to get in. Obviously, that was not a pleasant experience. However, I've decided not to bore anyone with my whining about how shitty the situation was. It was craptastic, and that's all you need to know. The important thing is that I am here, safe and sound.

It was really interesting landing in Thunder Bay. I was trying to look out the window, to see how much snow was on the ground. However, I had the seat right over the wing, so it was kind of hard to see the ground. Plus it was midnight, so it wasn't exactly light out. What I could see didn't look much different than what I could see in Toronto. This was promising. Upon walking out of the Thunder Bay airport, I was struck with how different the air quality is up here. I'd heard a lot about how it's a much drier cold, but I wasn't sure what to expect. Well...it was exactly that. It was a very crisp, dry cold air that greeted me. It wasn't the kind of cold you experience in the South, where you can feel the air slap your face. It was more like a sucking cold air. That sounds weird, but if you ever experience it, I think you would agree with me.

The car ride back to my house was kind of surreal. We drove past the University, and as I was looking at the buildings, it made me feel like I hadn't left at all. It was as if no time had passed. It was kind of depressing, in a sense, because I felt like I had accomplished nothing since I left. This is, of course, entirely false. But that's neither here nor there. The point is the time I spent down South felt like it was nothing. In a sense, this is also kinda heartening, because if 7 weeks can feel like nothing, than so can 9. Hopefully when I return back home in March I will get that same feeling of having never left.

Well, I think I better go do something productive. I've got a lot of cleaning and re-arranging to do.

Cheers!

On Being Frightfully Awoken By Fireworks

Last night, as I had previously posted, I decided to forgo New Years celebrations. I tried to stay up until midnight, but I just couldn't do it. I must shamefully admit that I went to bed a mere hour before the celebrated hour. I snuggled into my bed, for one last sleep in my OWN bed, and was soon fast asleep. Now, I should include a bit of background information here, before I continue with my story. My house is a year shy of becoming a century home. That makes it one of those mammoth red brick numbers, with spacious rooms and large, deep windows. It is also situated a block from the downtown core. Now, the town of Tillsonburg isn't a large one; the population sign says 14,000, but I would estimate that it's now roughly around 15 or 16,000. It's a modest sized town, in my opinion. Small enough to be cozy, but large enough that you don't know everyone (but you do know MOST everyone). Anyways, every New Years the town has a little outdoor gathering at the clock tower, which is located at the central intersection of downtown, and is located a stone's throw down the road from my house (for perspective, I can see said clock tower from my front porch). This gathering is open for the entire town to attend, and usually include a stand that provides people with free hot apple cider, or some other warm bevy. They also have fireworks.

Now, lets get back to my being sound asleep in bed. I am suddenly awoken by a loud and terrifying BANG. I jolt up in bed, my heart pounding. Disoriented, I can't seem to grasp where the sound came from. It is quickly followed by a barrage of more banging and popping. The air outside the house reverberates with the sound. I can actually hear the house shaking from the sound waves. I do the classic frantic look around, trying to figure out what is going on. In my mind, the first thing that pops up is that LO AND BEHOLD we are being ATTACKED! I do believe I said something like "Oh shit", while clutching my chest.

Then, on the wall, I notice a spattering of colour flash and disappear. Breathing a sigh of relief, I finally remember that it is New Years and the town is simply putting on a fireworks display. Hoping out of bed, I stumble to my window, and proceed to watch the fireworks light up the cold winter air. It was quite beautiful. In fact, it was made even more beautiful by the fact that a soft cover of recently fallen snow lay on EVERYTHING - trees, bushes, rooftops - which made the colour reflect even more off the shiny white surfaces. Small flakes were still falling, as well. It made me realize that, of all the times of the year, winter is probably the nicest time to watch fireworks go off. The display lasted a solid twenty minutes, which is pretty spectacular considering Tillsonburg, as I said, isn't a large city. I heard my Mom get up as well, and go into my sisters room to watch the fireworks. We both ooed and awwed. Once they ended, she came into my room, gave me a kiss and wished me a Happy New Year. And then I climbed back into my bed, and went to sleep.

I woke up this morning, determined to stay in my bed as long as possible. It was so warm and cozy, I didn't want to get up. Getting up meant that I wouldn't be getting back in for 10 weeks - March. The thought depressed me to no end. However, I noticed that my Mom was standing in my doorway, looking in at me. It was like one of those moments in a movie, when the parent watches their child sleep, and the child wakes up. I know she is going to miss me. I decided to get up, so that I could spend my final day with my family.

So that's what I am doing. I'm going to enjoy the day while it lasts, because tonight at 8:40pm I will be on a jet, taxiing down the runway, on my way to Thunder Bay....

Happy New Year