Super Powers

I've always had abysmal study and work habits ever since I can remember being in school. It's been several years since my first escapade into grade school, and not much has changed. Instead of becoming increasingly more fluent when studying over the years, I've become more and more proficient at procrastination. In fact, I've become so skillful that I can procrastinate without doing anything, I can procrastinate while staring at my textbook. During the most inopportune hours of the day, my mind will simply float away, far from the lonely textbook that lies agape dutifully in front of me. Far far away it will float, into the outer reaches of the universe, where my mind will entertain itself with a myriad of ideas, most of which will have about as much relevance to my current subject of study as religion is to civil law.

So today, I was on one of my ordinary forays into the sea of overstudying-induced hallucination when an extraordinary idea penetrated the opulence of ninja warriors and cats clouding my mind and came into focus. Brace yourselves, everyone, for I present to you, the power of the Freudian Analysis. Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like if there was someone out there who could harness the legendary powers of Sigmund Freud? Superheroes and manga heroes are always gifted with the powers inspired by ancient gods and deities, (i.e. Sailor Moon, Naruto, Ororo/Storm, etc.) It's about time we had a proprietor of power whom we can all relate to. There will be no more awe-inspiring elemental manipulation, no more potentially destructive powers such as super strength, speed, or animorphosis. The destructive potential of the Freudian Analysis will lie purely in the psyche.

The lucky inheritor of this cutting edge technique will be endowed with the super ability to analyze any situation and circumstance with a psychoanalytic touch. In public places such as the art gallery, it will be child's play for our hero to psychoanalyze all pieces of artwork within mere seconds. A spin can be placed on anything and everything to resemble all the different faces of dormant sexual desires. In practice, all of Georgia O'Keefe's flowers become barren and lonely vaginas decorated with garish, artificial colours, and Andy Warhol's Marilyn Monroe becomes a manifestation of his insecurity and fear of commitment due to his desires to bed a multitude of women, whom despite their differing complexion and skins, are all the same underneath. Our hero will have an infinite number of subjects for which to hone his talents, being the urban city-dweller that he is. But he must remember to never use his gift on himself or his loved ones, lest he cripples their psyche for all of eternity.

Once our gallant hero has mastered his powers of the Freudian Analysis, he will be ready to fight evil. Now our super psychoanalyst may suffer a deficit in STR and AGI, but his unrivaled INT and LUK will offset and compensate for his shortcomings. Skillfully and stealthily he will use his peerless intelligence to infiltrate corporate office buildings. Once he has entered enemy territories he will hunt down all of the company heads and CEO's: the proprietors behind evil advertisements, and false logical slogans such as "i'm lovin' it", and "embrace diversity". Then he will unleash his deadly techniques of the Freudian Analysis and mentally scar his enemies through immense psychological torture by convincing them that they have lived their lives wholly in effort to satisfy some (previously)unknown and inane sexual desires, and that these efforts have been in vain because they had become corrupted by power and can no longer accomplish their sexual dreams since the onset of old age, obesity, hair loss, and arthritis two dozen years ago. His enemies will become thoroughly dispirited and fall into utter depravity until they commit suicide.

Over and over again, I played the triumphant episodes of my psychoanalytic hero in my mind, as the corners of my mouth curved into a ridiculous grin and drool glossed over the edge of my lips. I remained in that absurd state for approximately fifteen minutes before my mind ascended from the outer galaxies and returned to Function Calls and Event Handlers. I'm going to need all the LUK I can get for my exam tomorrow.

Secrets of the Sauce Industry Revealed!

I was surfing around deviantart today, hoping to kindle some kind of creative spirit for my visual arts assignment, when I came across this scandalous conspiracy, so shocking and disturbing i had to share it with all my readers (yes, all three of you);


Here is what the artist had to say on this fishy topic:

Ok ok ok ok ok... this is a scientific illustration based on the theory that all sauce comes from various breeds of sauce weasel. They just lay packets of sauce like chickens lay eggs. Each breed produces its own unique sauce and each has its characteristics. For instance the soy sauce weasel maintains a fully vegetarian diet. The elusive secret sauce weasel is in actuality a cross breed of a ketchup weasel and a salad dressing ferret. The American BBQ weasel is most active during summer and the Worcestershire weasel has a fondness for fish in its diet. The Mexican hot sauce breed is born with one of three temperaments: spicy, medium, and mild. So far the scientific community has scoffed at my theory... the fools. I suspect a cover-up that the sauce industry does not want exposed. -Gennady

I'd like to draw your attention to another aspect of this illustration, notice how there are exactly thirteen breeds of sauce weasels in this scientific sketch? That number corresponds with the amount of letters in the name "Sauce Industry". Convenient isn't it? And what kind of relationship does the scientific community share with the sauce industry?
I will refrain from further comments, and let you be the judge to this conspiracy.

This scientific sketch is done by the talented Gennady Babichenko, whose domain can be found on deviantart.

My Deepest Apologies, Mr. Rousseau

Dear Mr. Jean-Jacques Rousseau,

This is a bit embarrassing, but I must admit, I am having a lot of trouble reading your acclaimed Discourse on Inequality this evening, to my dismay. Now this may be because I've yet to have a full night's sleep thus far this weekend but instead had short sporadic naps throughout the day, or maybe it's the thick opaque fog that is currently clouding my mind from watching the Naruto movie earlier. Viewing this movie has resulted in the unfortunate side-effect of a heavy loss of brain cells, which is detrimental to my literary processing abilities. I apologize with the utmost sincerity, and I vow never to watch said movies again. For now, I will do what Sandie hasn't done for over seven years, and head to bed, before 10:00pm. I will rise two hours prior to my usual set time and resume my reading efforts then. Thank you for your understanding.

Sandie

Update! and an Instruction Manual

It seems that I have neglected to update my blog in awhile, and the longer I wait, the more I feel compelled to write something fantastic for my update; so I've decided, to write an in depth guide on how to be a pretentious visual arts major. Despite the sophistication implied by the title, it is a mere matter of dedication to achieve such a status.

Looking the Part
The most primary step in this lofty endeavor, is to assume the appropriate "look" of a pretentious art student. Here is a simple and foolproof rule-of-thumb for anyone who wishes to approximate the image of an artistic intellect: make yourself ugly. Because all artistic people know that the most valuable aspect of an individual is their personality and character, and not what's on the outside.
The most beautiful people around are often those with the lowest IQ, so it logically follows that ugly people must be intelligent. With this logic in mind, it makes perfect sense that the uglier and flashier your attire is, the greater your intellect and artistic abilities are.
Pick out items of clothing in cuts and colours that are least suited to your body type. If you want to be real edgy, dress as if you are from a different time period. Pick an era, and dress like how the hipsters did back then. You will show how artistic and intelligent you are by not succumbing to current social trends and following old ones instead.
Heed not to those who criticize your appearance, the harsher the criticism, the more confident you should feel about your intellect.


Feigning Intelligence
Now that you look smart and artsy on the outside, you must learn to talk like a pretentious artist. The first step to mastering the art of sounding like a thoughtful and ostentations snob is to become well versed in common social issues. Here are a couple of stellar examples that will never bore during a class discussion (nor will they ever get old):

• self-similarity in current social trends and how its bad


• people's reliance on technology in modern society and how its bad


• consumerism and money, and how they're bad


• celebrities, pop stars/rap stars and how they're bad


• makeup, and media defined beauty, and how they're bad

Note: Any permutations of the above list are acceptable.

Any understanding or insight as to why these hot topics are bad is redundant. All you need to know is that they are all bad, and that they affect you, the avant-garde artist negatively. In what ways and how? Again, those are merely trivial questions that are of no real concern. But if you are ever cornered with such irrelevant inquiries, simply talk about how each of these social issues squander individuality and personal freedom of expression.

Making Art
After you have memorized these social issues, and can recite them by rote memory, you are ready to make art. Make sure your art work addresses one of the afore mentioned topics. Your art must express the evils of < !--insert topic-- > and how it spoils individuality. This task is as easy as it sounds. You can express evil either by showing how sad and anguished people are when they are deprived of their individuality by painting/drawing/cutting out sad faces, or by using ominous symbols such as the colour black, red, black combined with red, or receipt paper to represent the lack of individuality. All are equally original.

If your art work does not look particularly appealing or pleasing, fret not. It is very easy to cover up your lack of artistic skills with concepts; that way, any and all flaws can be explained and excused.
Don't know the first thing about composition? No problem. An abysmally composed art piece with a lack of (or too many) focal points can easily be justified when it is an expression of how technology has messed with humanity and natural human behaviour. With such a concept, your art is no longer just an abysmally composed piece, it is an abysmally composed piece where the inane composition represents how modern technology confuses and distorts our ability to design aesthetically sound compositions.

Your human figure looks like a deformed hairless hyena with glasses? Simple. You were trying to portray how anguished humans are when deprived of their individuality that they become inhuman and turn into hyenas who wear glasses due to their blindness and detachment from reality.
When every imperfection in your art and your lack of skill is justified, there is no need to practice or improve your skills because you have mastered the skill of bullshitting.

Critiquing
Now that you are learned in creating innovative artwork that are sure to cause an impact on its viewers, you must learn to appreciate and critique the artwork of your peers. Rule of thumb in this instance would be to always have something to say, even when you have nothing to say. The last thing you want to do in an open critique session is to sound like an moronic asshole, or even worse, to be caught with nothing to say. Always comment, no matter how insubstantial, crass, or trite the comment is.
It's easy to find things to comment on, you can start by pointing out the obvious:
"I noticed that you used acrylic paint in this picture."

Or you can also point out an aspect of the artwork that you like:
"I like that you used acrylic paint in this picture."
"I like how you rendered the background/flowers/girl's face/airplanes in the picture."

To take commenting to the next level, some depth of discussion must be brought fourth. Introduce an idea relating to the previously mentioned stellar-social issues that the artist probably didn't intend, and force it onto the artwork you are viewing through an insignificant and obscure detail.
"I noticed that in the upper corner there, those brush strokes you used in the background switched back and fourth, it sort of represent how confused people are with their identities in today's society."
"I like how you used that little splatter of white paint there in a field of brown that was probably unintentional to represent how isolated individuals are in today's society where everyone is the same."

Once you have mastered all the essential skills to becoming a pretentious VISA major, you are well on your way to cruise in style through the visual arts program at your academic based university because you were not talented enough to be enrolled in any of the other programs, or to get into a real art school.

Pretentious idiots like that make me want to quit VISA programs for life.

Disclaimer: I seem to have lost my source for that Spam image, but I just want to make it clear that I didn't take that image.

Top Reasons Why Sandie Should Carry Cash with Her

For more than a year now, I have never carried more than fifty cents with me in my wallet, no matter where I went. If I ever had to spend more than fifty cents, I would simply whip out my handy debit card, which I never use unless I am spending more than ten dollars at once. It was a strategy designed to deter myself from making impulsive purchases. Has it been effective in saving money? It's hard to say, though it's probably saved me a small fortune from exuberant mocha and tea consumption alone. But during this past week, there have been a number of instances which compel me to rethink my spending strategy, and that perhaps it is best that I carry a small amount of cash on me from now on.

It was not two days ago while I was in line for the 99 at 8:00am in the morning, the lineup threaded way back till past the A&W like always. I could hear awesome music coming from near the bus stop. I crane my neck from behind the disgruntled-looking fat woman in front of me, trying to catch a glimpse of the duet, but couldn't. While doing so I noticed quite a few people who were plugged into their iPods, and immediately I felt the urge to shake my fist at them for tuning out when such a brilliant live performance was taking place. When I did get a chance to look at the dual, I was utterly astounded; there was a man singing lead vocals whilst playing on a keyboard, and his partner was singing as well whilst playing the fiddle. To top it off, at certain intervals on the song, the woman would tap dance on a plank of wood to make sounds that complimented the progression of the music, the sounds they made together was simply thrilling. To make a long story short, I was itching to purchase their CD like I had ants in my pants, but sadly I held no ten dollar bill in my pockets. The itching was so propelling that I almost ran out of my place at the very front of the bus lineup to ask them for their names, but alas, I would've missed the bus and arrived late for my lecture. I don't know if I'll ever get a chance to meet these two again.

Due to a couple of instances not unlike this one, I've decided to compose a list of reasons why I should carry a small amount of cash on me at all times:

• When I encounter amazing buskers out on the street at Granville island or the Drive, I can buy their CD's on the spot.


• I can pay for a stupid printing card from the UBC library so I don't have to hand in essays late due to printer failure.
  
• When I find cute trinkets, scarves, or cozy gloves at the SUB market, I can purchase without worrying about not finding the item again the next time I come.


• I can feed myself on Fridays during my five hour break when my food runs out or if I simply neglected to pack any.


• I can properly and fully show street buskers or entertainers my appreciation instead of just tossing them my fifty cents.


• I can get out of restaurants sooner by paying cash instead of debit (usually).
  
• I'll have a better record of my spendings and allowance as opposed to paying with debit, where money seems to mysteriously disappear everytime I check my account balance.

With all of that in mind, it's actually more convenient for me to continue the way I am, since I get paid by direct deposit. Maybe I will withdraw a monthly allowance for myself or something. Or not.

p.s. image by the lovely and talented kozyndan! Google them if you're interested. They also have a Flickr gallery.

At Work

I've been experiencing some major challenges at work for the past week or so, particularly with my manager. I can no longer look her in the eye the same way I use to.

I suppose, to elucidate this problem, I should first explain the event which served as a catalyst to this troublesome issue.
It was about one week ago today, I was lying soundlessly asleep on my living room couch. Next to me outside the window you could hear the steady pattering of rain in perfect rhythm, soothing to the ear. I was dreaming, a terrible dream unfurling before me. It was Halloween at the portrait studio, and my manager was throwing our annual Halloween party for all the children. It was great fun, there were goblins, witches, kitty cats and Elvis', all enjoying various Halloween treats and games. I was filling a decorative bowl with Skittles, when my clumsy hands failed me and emptied half the container of candy onto the carpet. I blanched, and feverishly attempted to collect the rainbow of candy before they attract halloween bandit raccoons. It was then, that the studio suddenly became dark, the temperature seemed to have dropped considerably. I turn my head slowly to find a pair of glowing eyes glaring at me from a large shadowed silhouette that blocked out the lights. It was my manager, except she was a sunflower. Her tall stalky sunflower physique loomed dangerously over me, as she lifted a leafy hand and pointed accusingly at me. She began to gobble. One did not need to speak turkey to detect the anger in her threatening tongue.

Unfortunately, the contents of the remainder of this dream have escaped me upon my awakening, but if I try really hard, I can glimpse traces of a chase scene across an empty Sears, some yelling and a hatchet. Whether the hatchet belonged to me or my sunflower boss, I cannot tell.

As a direct result of this dream, I have not been able to keep my composure whenever I face my boss. As she speaks to me, the contents of her her speech degrades into a low droning gobble, and golden petals sprout from behind her ears. It takes everything I have just to hastily avert my gaze before I burst into a fit of outrageous giggling. It's become a serious problem.


P.S. This post features lovely art by an artist I recently discovered, Luke Chueh. I encourage all to check out his deviantart page.

I saw the Valley Covered in Fog

I dreamt this morning, that I was screaming and throwing turtle shells at innocent pedestrians. I didn't know why, but I was extraordinarily angry, so furious at their offending presence in fact, that I appeared to be yelling in German.

I was yelling so passionately that I woke myself with a start, to find myself thirty minutes behind schedule. Perhaps it was an after effect from all the foreign cussing, but I don't react like most who are have just found themselves waking half an hour later than intended; no, the lateness doesn't stop me from taking my sweet time getting out of bed; I do so as lazily as humanly possible (for someone who's behind schedule at least), and linger on every muscle movement as if my bones were a a couple of hundred years old.

I drag myself out of bed before I resume regular movement speed once I began my morning routine. I walk by the the kitchen window and do a double take as I bore witness to one of the most amazing sights I have seen in years. The entire valley was covered in a cloudy blanket of fog that stretched as far as the eye could see, I felt like I was alone at the top of a remote mountain, gazing at a city drowning in a sea of smoke. I only peeled my eyes away long enough to run and grab my camera and dash out onto the porch in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. It was like jumping into a freezing swimming pool in mid October. I shivered like I was having an epileptic seizure, but I did get some excellent pictures.

I Think I'm In Love

I've fallen in love with Wayne Thiebaud's paintings. Whenever I see one of his garish paintings of confectionery delights I begin to hyperventilate (mentally) and I feel as if everything is good and happy in the world. I get so excited and giddy I fear that I may start foaming at the mouth. I'm falling in love all over again. That's how amazing he is.

Thiebaud seems to paint predominately two types of subjects; cakes and confectioneries, or city-streetscape. I adore the cakes and the pies, but I have the most love for his city-streetscapes. It's simply stunning.




Oh look at the colour! The vibrancy! The texture! The contrast! And the flagrant breaking of composition rules. <3 These images here do not do justice to the real paintings in life, but it gives you an idea. I've decided that the next book I purchase -after Genesis- shall be a Wayne Thiebauld book.







P.S. - click images for full view or die.

What Has Internet Sandie Been Busying Herself With For the Last Week Or So?

This.

Back to School

Less than a week remains before school starts, and I've only just gotten into my lazy summer spirit a week ago. All I want is just to be able to go to sleep whenever I felt like it, and battle zombies and skeletons to hone my battle monk skills. But now I have to start thinking about textbooks, tuition, timetables, and orientation day.

Well, the good news is that -after very minimal consideration- I've decided to make an addition to my skimpy timetable earlier tonight. I will now be attending German lectures on Mondays Tuesdays and Thursdays. However frank it may be, that German is merely a substitute for the French class I couldn't register in time for, I am gradually beginning to feel a bit of excitement about the course. I mean, I've always loved German movies, and German sausages. How can I not love the German language?

With this new addition, I will be spending my first term studying English, Visual Arts, Computer Sciences, and of course German. Hoorah!

On an unrelated note, I've discovered that if I get into bed at just the right time of night, I am treated to a splendid view of the moon from my bedroom window. All I have to do is look up and out from between my down-tilted blinds. It's quite sublime really. The night after the eclipse the moon was full, and shone light brighter than a LED headlight in the dead of the night. My bedroom was so well illuminated that I could read Snow Crash just by moonlight alone. I didn't want to risk ruining my poor eyes however, so I resisted the urge and simply continued my moon gazing in silence until I drifted into sleep.

Watching the moon seriously makes me wish I owned the old manual canon film camera I like, paired with a sturdy tripod. Equipped with those, I can take photos of the moon with the camera's b-setting. Well... my birthday is coming up... just a thought.
Heh, but seriously, I think I will visit the school a week or two into the school year to ask Mr. Stanley for advice on camera shopping and to give my favourite art teacher -Mrs. John- a present and a big hug.

Teethbrushing Diaries

I started a new tube of toothpaste today, and it tastes like cough syrup.

My Week At Work

For the better part of the last month and a half, I've been feeling mixed towards my job. I fluctuated between enjoying my job then despising it as often as Adam Sandler makes crappy famedy movies these days. But no more. After all of that indecisiveness, I've made an executive decision; I've decided that I don't like my manager. In fact, I don't particularly like my job either. I bow to you all, as I join the rank of the millions of people who also dislike their jobs. Three cheers, hooray!

I've actually concluded my post-camping first week on a pretty high note, in spite of the series of unfortunate mess-ups that I've generated at work in just four work days:

Incident #1:
This particular incident happened directly as a result of camping. You see, I was scheduled for the morning shift starting at 11:00am, I did not expect to arrive home from Harrison lake until 1:00pm the earliest on that same day. Clearly, we have a bit of a problem on our hands.

The most sensible thing I could think to do in such a situation at the time was to call in sick around the time my shift started. So at 11:15, I call, waiting for Mia (whom I was suppose to share a shift with) to pick up. I get the answering machine. No worries, I try again. And again. And again. Each time I was greeted with the mechanical voice of the Studio's answering machine. With no alternative options in sight, I leave a message, explaining my unfortunate case of food poisoning which is inhibiting me from arriving at work. I try to put the problem out of my head, as there is nothing I could do to get to work.

I arrive back home to find a message for me from Jas through my sister; "Where the heck are you, you're suppose to be at work!" I decide not to call back because I'm supposed to be sick. I see Jas two days later, as anticipated, she inquired about my whereabouts on Monday. I recite to her my bad case of the food poisoning like I rehearsed.
She countered quickly, "But when I called your house, your sister told me you weren't home."
"Well that's because I spent the day at a friend's house. "
Jas looked at me with a raised eyebrow. She doesn't buy it. Mind you, I don't blame her, to an experienced manager like herself, my little bluff was probably as convincing as trying to tell her I'm related to a three-toed sloth.

I shrug it off, head home as usual and RPG my evening away.

Incident #2:
A woman from another branch was coming in Friday to evaluate me and two of my co-workers. I had stayed up late the previous night reading Snow Crash, so I get out of bed groggily and glare at my alarm clock, it was 8:45am. I had about half an hour before I leave for work, so I take my time and meander slowly around the house, in and out of the washroom then into the kitchen. I turn on an element to preheat for some scrambled eggs, before I threw a casual glance at the oven clock, the bright green digital numbers on the black screen reflected the time: 9:55. Holy crap. It happened again! My goddamned alarm clock malfunctioned again and messed up the time.

Needless to say, I was forced to call in work, and explain that I was going to be about twenty minutes late. On my evaluation day. I show up, then try my best to make up for it by taking initiative and being hyper attentive when my evaluator spoke. In the end though, I still did an average job.

I shrug it off, head to UBC and wander around for a couple of hours, then headed home and read some Snow Crash.

Incident #3:
So I'm sharing a shift with Mia, and we had an appointment coming up in about thirty minutes. The studio is empty save for the two of us, Mia's making phone calls, all the basic things that need to be done are done, and there doesn't seem to be a single customer within thirty square foot of the Studio. I figured I could probably read for ten minutes or so until the appointment time. I'm standing at the counter and reading about the Metaverse, when I heard foot steps coming from behind. I decide it's best that a customer doesn't see my reading at the counter, so I quickly put my book away as the person approached. I turn around and met the gaze of my manager.
"Oh hi Jas!" I greeted, astonished at her presence.
"What's this?" she asked , as she grabbed my book out of my hand, she took one look, her face went from stern to angry.
"You're reading a book!" she screeched, rather stating the obvious.
She then proceeded to spend the next ten, fifteen minutes lecturing me about how we don't get paid to stand around and read. I apologize, promise not to let it happen again with a finger crossed behind my back.


I guess I'm just pretty laid back about my work, while my manager's strung up so tight that I wouldn't be surprised if she had a wedgie half the time. I'm considering starting the hunt again. I'll probably want to keep this job around, however, for both the income and the experience/credentials. Also, I feel that one of the major reasons I don't enjoy work is because of how much my attitude differs from my manager's. Maybe my job could be more enjoyable if I worked at the Brentwood branch. Though it would make for an awkward conversation explaining to my boss that I want to transfer to a farther branch because I don't like her.

It Buzzes...

It buzzes.

As I sit here typing away, it continues to buzz. The fly flies circles around and around the perimeter of my bedroom. The small ball of dirty black hovers momentarily every now and then before resting on my ceiling fan, then proceeding to heartily slam itself against my window repeatedly before moving on, buzzing incessantly as it resumes its laps around my walls. The buzzing noise increases in volume at the fly approaches my desk; then it recedes as it distances itself once more, before approaching again, in an endless cycle.

It buzzes.

As I re-enter my bedroom a few moments later with a most dramatical entrance, fly zapper in one hand, rolled up newspaper in the other. Slowly, fly zapper raised in the air, I inch towards the fly, as it rests on my lamp. I hold my breath and swing down, I miss. It buzzes, as I flail my arms around wildly like a bear with a honey comb stuck on its head.

It buzzes.

As I sit down in defeat. I open my Opera browser and decided to do some reading to distract myself from the eternal buzzing. I indulge myself in some Wikipedia and Slashdot articles, intermittent with occasional outbursts of profanity as I swipe viciously at the fly when it gets too close to my head. After some Bash.org and forum surfing I come across this:

I have a very serious problem. I'm fucking crying because of how stupid I am.

Okay, so my girlfriend was supposed to come over to my house today because I was going to go take her to a movie. She lives about 20 minutes away, and the movie we were supposed to see started at 4:15, which was in about 40 minutes. I figured "cool, I'll just play Pokemon while I wait".

So I'm playing Pokemon, and having a pretty damn good time. Anyway, she finally does show up, except she's crying as she walks into my room. Instead of doing the right thing by comforting her, I half-focus on my game and her. She starts telling me her cat died, and just as she was getting into it, I get into a random encounter in my game.

A shiny pidgey. Holy shit. (For those of you who don't know/care, shiny pokemon have less than a 1/1000 chance of appearing). I stare into my screen in amazement, yelling "holy shit, YES", interrupting her mid-story. She sobs more, and she starts to yell "You don't even fucking care! YOU JUST WANT TO PLAY YOUR FUCKING GAME!" I'm still looking at my screen, still focusing on catching my shiny pidgey, when she walks over, and tosses the game against the wall. I run over and pick up my DS hoping that nothing has changed on screen, and quickly noticed that she broke it. My system and my shiny pidgey, gone forever.

I start screaming every obscenity I know, and started flailing my arms around. I didn't know she was behind me, and apparently I backhanded her in the face while I was being a dumbass and swinging my fists around. She yells out "FUCK YOU", and runs out of my house in tears.

What have I done? I've fucked up so badly, and I need to know how to approach her. I don't want a game of Pokemon to be responsible for ruining my best relationship ever. Help me.

I stare blankly at my computer screen before exploding in laughter. I laugh for a good twenty minutes, then I remembered,

It buzzes.

I think I'm going to look for a net. Wish me luck.

On Home Owning

So it has been almost two weeks now living in my new home. I'd have to say that it has been quite enjoyable. I've experienced freedom here not quite like anywhere else. Living in a house you (or your family I suppose) owns is great; you can raise kittens, fry pancakes at 2:00am, and urinate on your walls. Now all of that is great and all, however, I was naive and failed to consider some of the less desired aspects of being home owners: and that is the responsibility to answer your door. Why may that be such a dangerous task? Well, I found out today that just outside your front door, in the neighbourhood, lurks the devious door-to-door sales person, the mail man, and of course, the Jehova's Witnesses. When you're not careful, these shady figures can push you into a corner and cause you to be late for work. I've learned a valuable lesson today, and I must improve my skills of pretending-I'm-not-home when someone undesireable comes knocking.

So Here I Am

So here I am, reporting from my lovely little house on Forglen Drive, in my lovely little room with the wooden wall. Evidently, the internet drought has passed, and I am grateful to be both alive and well. The internet drought wasn't nearly as terrible as I had anticipated. For one thing, it wasn't all that hard to find tasks to do around the house during those first few days, nor was I ever short of small errands to run to the bank or to the library.

The oh so wonderful experience of spending your first three days in a new house is likened to having every single item in your possession misplaced. It took me thirty minutes to find my work clothes, before I could hastily jump into them, stuff bread in my mouth before running out the door to embark on my fifteen minute journey to Metrotown. Finding my way there for the first time went relatively smoothly, as I had unmistakable landmarks in the form of the four or five high-rise towers that surrounded the mall; I was able to reach my destination in under thirty minutes, only about ten minutes longer than the projected amount of time. The return trip, however, did not go quite as smoothly.

You see, if you aren't already aware, I am notoriously bad with directions on foot. I can be walking straight down the street in a slightly unfamiliar neighbourhood, make a simple turn left or right, become engulfed in a sensation of absolute daze, then lose my place in space along with my sense of direction. This was precisely what transpired (multiple times) on my first attempt to navigate home from the mall. Now in my defense, the landmarks that allowed me to arrive at Metrotown with relative ease were not present on the way home. I had no large looming buildings protruding in the skyline to act as my guiding light home; I think it's fair to say that the difficulty level of this journey was thus at least doubled. I also decided to take a different route than the one that I had taken to arrive at the mall, I decided to look for a shorter way that led me straight into the center of the neighbourhood and to my house, rather than circling around the main streets which outlined the small neighbourhood, like I have done that morning. It had to be done eventually. So I courageously stepped into the labyrinth of a neighbourhood, shortly before proceeding to get lost.

Forty minutes later I arrive home. Utterly exhausted and disoriented, I consulted a map. Take one glance at the map and you will understand. -Black outlines the most efficient route, red outlines the route I took before finally arriving home.

I regret to say that since that first day's strenuous adventure home, I have experienced that woozy feeling in my head that proceeded complete disorientation a number of times. I must have taken at least five different and inventive routes home in just eight days here. I've decided to stick with the black outlined route in my future days here to save myself some trouble until further notice.

1 Day Before Moving Day

So my time here is finally up, starting tomorrow I will be sleeping in my new house (I use that term loosely, because the house isn't actually new). Hoorah! I am actually starting to feel the excitement between all the packing, lifting, vacuuming, sneezing, and unloading. Today was also the first time I have seen my new house; it's stone mosaic and darkwood exterior seems to whisper its stories to you; you know, the sort of stories that give a house a personality, like murder stories that took place in the basement, or scandals, or weed dealings. It's really quite the quaint little house; that would have a splendid view of the sunset(sunrise?) if it wasn't for the ugly giant trees in the neighbouring backyard.

I was working away like a busy beaver unloading in the new house with my dad(we cheated and started moving early), when he informed me of the upcoming internet drought. I panicked; oh how will I survive without my beloved internet for an entire four days? I barely survived the last time the internet failed for four whole hours. I simply love my personal internet too much to withstand having it torn away from me for such a length of time, oh the despair! It was in the midst of my grief that a solution presented itself in the form of a light bulb flicking on; I must as quickly as possible binge download and stock my computer with as much manga as possible, to tide me over with for the duration of the drought; in addition I must also reinstall Veoh and binge download movies. As I type this, volumes and volumes of manga are being downloaded into my Sysreset folder, I am also monitoring the download of three movies (12 Monkeys, What the bleep Do We Know, and American Psycho). Drastic times call for drastic measures, but I will be well equipped to survive the impending drought. If my movie downloads cannot be completed before I pass out in front of the computer, I will always have the public library close by my new house for video rentals!

It's a strange phenomenon, but the basement suite almost seems smaller now with all the furniture as well as kitchen-living room partition gone. I guess the partitioning and furniture gave the space a sense of depth that is non-existent in the now vacant lot; my room is reduced to an empty box with a dinky little table, and a pillow for a seat in front of the computer. I will be here for the next couple of hours tending to my downloads with snacking anchovies for company. They really are overrated, this is probably thanks to Futurama giving me unrealistic expectations for the small salty snack fish. This morning I had quite the satisfying breakfast however,

doesn't my last meal in this house look delicious? The new big kitchen in the new house hopefully will inspire a bountiful amount of bread, pastry, and cookie baking. On my sister's part of course, not mine, I don't cook.

But ladies and gentlemen, I really must be taking a break. I over exerted myself today and wounded up getting jabbed in the ribs by a doorknob. It's exceedingly unpleasant, and I should lie down and nurse my aching back and ribs before I resume my download surveillance. Man I feel old.

2 Days Until Moving Day

After clocking out today, I leisurely did my errands then caught the bus to head home. I dozed for nearly the entire duration of the trip before getting off the bus. Then like usual, I stopped at the corner house to look for Molly under the car; like usual, she's there. I meow at her and called her name, she rose and briskly sauntered towards me with her bell jingling to rub her head against my hand. While I sat there on the sidewalk playing with Molly, I realized that today might be the last time I'll ever see her again.

I had to get some pictures of her before I leave, so I went home to grab my camera quickly to give Molly a photo session. Like the last time I tried to take pictures of her, Molly proved to be a most difficult subject; sometimes I really think she's doing it on purpose. I would zoom in and focus my camera, crop a perfect image, then once I hit the shutter release Molly would move in a split second to give me a blurry image. It's not a coincidence if it happened for ten pictures in a row! So finally, twenty or so minutes and about thirty shots later, here I am with four acceptable pictures.

I will miss you Molly, you are my favourite cat in the world, and even if I make cuter, prettier, friendlier cat friends, I will always remember and think of you.

P.S. Click image to enlarge for better quality!

3 Days Until Moving Day

This morning I woke up with a crocodile in my bed and it pricked me in the toe. This unpleasant awakening inspired me to have a super productive day in packing, art and exercise!

My Indonesian crocodile woke me up earlier than expected, so I decided to finally head to school and return my textbooks in exchange for my report card. I have only one thing to say: Ms. Lehtonen is an absolute douche; she never changed my term one grade that she promised she would change, even after she marked my alternate assignment and gave me a 94% for the term. She never went to change my mark. But I've decide, I'm not going to bother with her anymore. I hated photo 12, and my grade in photo will not interfere with my UBC admission, I'm never going to see Ms. Lehtonen again, so I'm just going to let it rest and move on.

After arriving home from school, and spending a generous amount of time napping, I've had a pretty productive day packing, if I do say so myself. My closet is completely cleaned and 90% of my clothes are packed; I also packed all my books, papers, bags and miscellaneous items. Everything except for my beloved computer must be packed by Saturday. As productive as I had been this day, it took me nearly the entire day to accomplish said packed items, I decided to call it a day at about six(?) pm to head out and play some badminton. It's terrific that I've been getting all this exercise for the past week, but my eating habits have suffered horribly to compliment my increase in physical activity. You see, my mom has already packed away more than half of our kitchen appliances, utensils and dry foods, leaving us little to eat save for instant noodles, a sack of flour, milk, frozen pizza, and whatever else is in the fridge. All kitchenware required for cooking is gone and no more food will be cooked until Sunday; I've more or less been living off ice cream, green tea, sardines in a tin, leftover rice, and instant noodles. At least the microwave is still in service.

So while packing the day away, I've adopted the habit of blaring music while I clean and pack for enjoyment as well as to distract myself from the heat; and since a couple of days ago, I've had a craving for some Nirvana music. (I think it was from the tone deaf man by Granville Station who plays and sings off key Nirvana cover songs.) I dug up my old Nirvana music and gave it a good listen, somehow later I found myself looking for Modest Mouse music on Dailymotion. I think if I was to buy a CD, I'd definitely get "Good News for People Who Love Bad News" by Modest Mouse, that or "Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness", "Saltbreakers" by Laura Veirs, or maybe a Sufjan Stevens album. To start purchasing CD's, however, would simply add to my spendings, so I decided against it. Perhaps I might receive any of them on my birthday, or Christmas (hint hint). Heh. If not, I'd give a shot CD hunting in Taiwan. I may come across an obscure music store that sells indie music for bargain prices behind some 7-11, or a Buddhist temple. Speaking of Taiwan I still need to call my uncle to inform him that I am coming and make living arrangements.

4 Days Until Moving Day

It is unbelievably hot today. I respond absolutely terrible to heat, and it's making packing difficult. It is so incredibly hot that I can't think straight and therefore cannot write a decent post, so instead I will post a picture; this photo by Michael Wolf sums up how I'm feeling right now.

5 Days Until Moving Day

It is now five days until moving day and I had just spent the entire day doing everything but packing. I've made about $35 dollars today, but I also spent about $90; not to mention the money for paint and work pants yesterday, I am seriously digging a giant hole in my bank account; I have also grossly overestimated my will power and self-restraint, as well as utterly underestimated my capacity for justifying frivolous spendings. The shopping monster that I thought I had gotten rid of over a year ago has caught up with me again, and it's making its ruthless comeback to devour my wallet. I really need to cut back on flaky unplanned spendings.

At least I'm saving money on movies.

6 Days Until Moving Day

For anyone who might someday ponder this notion, I will warn you beforehand: tissue paper boxes do NOT make good shoes; in fact, they make terrible shoes. They are far too boxy, stiff, and constrictive to support feet. Besides, they'd only be available in one size, and they hurt!

Now in retrospect, this finding seems like something I should have been able to predict prior to stuffing my feet inside empty square boxes, but it really seemed like a good idea at the moment. But for other hands-on learners, here's a piece of free information that might save yourself some discomfort in the future.

But enough about tissue boxes. Since my last post, I've done some feeble packing, shopping, and movie viewing. I am happy to say that I am finally able to add 2001: A Space Odyssey to my Seen movie list. It is everything that it's hyped up to be, and maybe even more; stunning cinematography(especially for 1968), grand soundtrack, space travel, bright hypnotic light display, spaceships and astronauts, a homocidal computer, what more can you ask for? One aspect I particularly enjoy about viewing old films is the retrospective recognition of pop culture references that I haven't been able to catch previously. I've probably seen parodies to 2001: A Space Odyssey on at least four different notable instances(Simpsons, Recess, iPhone, and Lego) and failed to acknowledged their sources until now, the same goes for Citizen Kane. There will definitely be more future trips to the public library. I am going to have to schedule a library trip somewhere between work, packing, and attempting to pack, over the next week; otherwise my videos will be overdue and I will have to pay late fees again! The library must've ripped a small fortune off of me in my lifetime through late fees.

Now, I regret to say that I've had a super unproductive day today, strolling around Granville Island, then downtown to purchase paint and funny looking black pants. But I've decided, I am going to get that turquoise dress. It was an executive decision made about an hour ago. The dress is just too pretty to give up, and I must have it before someone else snatches it. Since I'm already a couple hundred dollars into my savings for the summer, what's another $85? I'll just have to resolve to save 90% of my first paycheck to make up for it.

On another note, I've finally made some progress packing today; I put all my more sporadically worn shoes in boxes and all my art supplies (with my new paint!) is now packed away. I guess I should start clothes and books tomorrow.

7 Days Until Moving Day

There is exactly one week left until moving day.
Before then, we must tear this house from its sturdy Canadian housing foundation, give it a good sound shaking before picking out our various belongings from the piles of debris, wood, gravel, burst water pipes, angry landlords and their furniture that would result. Unfortunately, I've become quite settled into this cramped little basement suite that I've called home for the last two years, and far too languid to start preparing.

Packing basics say that you should start with what you use and need the least, and work your way up towards those items of daily use. But I am genuinely convinced that everything in my room is equally vital to my daily life; from the boxes of shoes occupying the bottom of my closet, to the four or five used sketchbooks living under my bed. This notion of packing undone, is hovering like an ugly mustard coloured bird with an eternally obscene humming noise that bites your ear if packing slips my mind for even a minute. So packing hasn't left my mind for a minute, though that's not stopping me from procrastinating. I will definitely regret my idleness later, but later hasn't come yet. In the mean time, there are tons of things I can do with my time besides packing.

During this last week or so, instead of packing, I've been amusing myself with shopping, reading, film viewing, mocha consuming, portrait drawing, art show attending, midnight underwear running, paper hat making, and contemplating the various ways to enjoy green tea.

Now if you'll excuse me, I must be off to see if whether empty tissue paper boxes will make adequate shoes. I shall report my findings in my next post.

Because We Could All Use a Bit More Nerdiness in Our Breakfast

Sandie takes a break from studying, procrastination and family dramas to
post an update:

Behold!

The keyboard shaped waffle iron! It makes keyboard shaped waffles! Does breakfast get any better than this? No it does not.
"My dog ate my keyboard so I couldn't write my psychology essay!"

Ctrl-Alt-Delicious!

On Cats and Sleep

The coming of summer has disrupted my sleep cycle at record speed this year; any pattern that I had grown accustomed to in the past months has now ceased to exist and have been thrown into utter chaos. I am now living more or less like a cat, and I love it.

If I were a cat, I feel that I would be a grey kitty with golden eyes, just like Molly; (Chief differences being that I would have much shorter hair, and I would be less of a flirt and more of a sleepy cow. )
I would start off my days in the afternoon, rolling onto my back and growl until I am fed. With my new kitty lifestyle, I would very quickly develop a sort of narcolepsy, as I would be so immobile for some halves of days that I would simply fall asleep in the middle of a meal. These narcoleptic episodes would be followed with manic-esque states due to replenishment of sleep, where I paint pictures with my paws while trying not to shred the canvas for hours before lapsing into deep sleep again. Sometimes instead of painting pictures I would wander into neighbours' and friends' backyards and attend barbecues; I would always be welcome because everyone loves cute grey kitties.

It's 8:30pm and I'm going to take a 3 hour nap.

Joke

There are 10 types of people in the world; ones who understand binary, and ones who don't!

How I learned to stop worrying and love the bomb

"Hello?... Uh... Hello D- uh hello Dmitri? Listen uh uh I can't hear too well. Do you suppose you could turn the music down just a little?... Oh-ho, that's much better... yeah... huh... yes... Fine, I can hear you now, Dmitri... Clear and plain and coming through fine... I'm coming through fine, too, eh?... Good, then... well, then, as you say, we're both coming through fine... Good... Well, it's good that you're fine and... and I'm fine... I agree with you, it's great to be fine... a-ha-ha-ha-ha... Now then, Dmitri, you know how we've always talked about the possibility of something going wrong with the Bomb... The *Bomb*, Dmitri... The *hydrogen* bomb!... Well now, what happened is... ahm... one of our base commanders, he had a sort of... well, he went a little funny in the head... you know... just a little... funny. And, ah... he went and did a silly thing... Well, I'll tell you what he did. He ordered his planes... to attack your country... Ah... Well, let me finish, Dmitri... Let me finish, Dmitri... Well listen, how do you think I feel about it?... Can you *imagine* how I feel about it, Dmitri?... Why do you think I'm calling you? Just to say hello?... *Of course* I like to speak to you!... *Of course* I like to say hello!... Not now, but anytime, Dmitri. I'm just calling up to tell you something terrible has happened... It's a *friendly* call. Of course it's a friendly call... Listen, if it wasn't friendly... you probably wouldn't have even got it... They will *not* reach their targets for at least another hour... I am... I am positive, Dmitri... Listen, I've been all over this with your ambassador. It is not a trick... Well, I'll tell you. We'd like to give your air staff a complete run-down on the targets, the flight plans, and the defensive systems of the planes... Yes! I mean i-i-i-if we're unable to recall the planes, then... I'd say that, ah... well, ah... we're just gonna have to help you destroy them, Dmitri... I know they're our boys... All right, well listen now. Who should we call?... *Who* should we call, Dmitri? The... wha-whe, the People... you, sorry, you faded away there... The People's Central Air Defense Headquarters... Where is that, Dmitri?... In Omsk... Right... Yes... Oh, you'll call them first, will you?... Uh-huh... Listen, do you happen to have the phone number on you, Dmitri?... Whe-ah, what? I see, just ask for Omsk information... Ah-ah-eh-uhm-hm... I'm sorry, too, Dmitri... I'm very sorry... *All right*, you're sorrier than I am, but I am as sorry as well... I am as sorry as you are, Dmitri! Don't say that you're more sorry than I am, because I'm capable of being just as sorry as you are... So we're both sorry, all right?... All right."

"Reunion on the Island Naboombu"

The book talk assignment, as it occurred to me earlier today, will probably be the last assignment in our lives where it is called upon us to draw half-assed artwork for credit. That being said, perhaps I should dedicate more heart and effort into the last art-outside-of-art-class assignment of my life, to bequeath it the sentiment that it deserves.

Instead, all the precious motivation that was able to muster went to sketchbooking for three hours.

Updates

Today, the procrastination God has brought you all the first post in over two months. Hoorah!

Here's a brief account of the passings these last weeks:

>AP Studio Art Show:
was a huge success. The one week I dedicated to completing my portfolio pieces, and preparing for the show was well worth the consequential psychology AP cramming that resulted. Unfortunately, I did not encounter any wealthy rich art lovers to offer me money for my artwork. Nevertheless, I did receive a couple of encouraging anonymous comments in the guest book.

On a side note: I am now about 90% confident about my abilities to get acceptance into Emily Carr. However, I've made up my mind; at this stage in my life I wish to go to UBC. If by the time I graduate, my passion for art has proven true and has not dissipated, I will then consider pursuing a place in art school.

School:
is nearly done. The graduation ceremony has come and gone, yet school is yet to be finished. I write you this as I procrastinate my last-week-of-school-test-project-rush work. I am just one electrochemistry test, three photography projects, one psychology presentation, one English book talk project, one french test, two historical movie reviews, one portrait, and four provincial exams away from being done with highschool. I hardly have time to be excited, especially with post-secondary options on my mind.

Post-Secondary:
choices are mind boggling. It seems that my plans of taking the first term off is not going to fly, seeing as I need six english credits for first-year university, and studying for only one term in first year just won't suffice. There are a few other options available, including summer sessions, or simply taking one lone english course in term one. But overall, this seems to be an all-or-nothing deal. If I'm serious about wanting time off, it will have to be an entire year, or nothing at all.

Books:
are being read at a rate that I haven't been able to achieve since my grade school days where the days offered nothing to do but long hours to be filled with reading. More than six books in the last two months, hoorah! I never imagined that I would ever pick up a Harry Potter book when I have or could see its movie rendition, let alone pick up three. I've finished the last three books of the Harry Potter series, and await the release of the final book this coming summer. Having completed the latest books in the sequence, I have little desire to read the first three. Especially after discovering what an obnoxious and unlikeable character Harry Potter actually is.

Movie Viewing:
has slowed to a crawl to make way for book reading progress. However I've recently discovered the movie goldmine that is the public library. You would be amazed at how many great classics (Frida, Hotaru no Hakka, Taxi Driver, The Shining, Jean de Florette! etc. ) that you can find between the dull grey shelves. All of which are free of charge to boot. I'll be having a movie marathon of Chinatown, Dr. Strangelove, and the Rocky Horror Picture Show this Friday to make the due date which is Saturday.

Drawing Phases:
have gone from fusion hybrid animals, to rabbits, to poodle llamas, to the still prevailing face-figure drawings, and now I have arrived at the owls.

I now leave you with a wonderful video from Yenshui Taiwan. I have to go to this someday.

Everyone in the World

Happy Pi Day!

Like Saint Patrick's Day, Canada Day, or National Pancake Day is celebrated by normal people, Pi day is a very special day in the hearts of many nerds.
"Nerds around the world will gather and join hands in the shape whose ratio of its circumference to its diameter is the most revered mathematical constant in the known universe."

Geeks and nerds everywhere will spread joy and good cheer by indulging in Pi related foods. A punny nerd will eat Pizza, pineapple, and drink pina coladas while dressed as a Pirate. If you happen to hate puns, you can also enjoy the holiday with cookies or cheese shaped like pi. Whatever your fancy, Pi day is simply incomplete without the consumption of Pie!

Happy Pi Day everyone!

Naps and Peeps

I overslepped my alloted nap time today, (what can I say? The Simpsons put me to sleep) and the sleep fairies have left me with a powerful and dire craving for chololate and Peeps; must have something to do with the contents of my dream. Although I remain a bit sluggish at the present, I fear that all my sleepiness will disappear fifteen minutes before I get into bed, like it has so often done for the last week. 

I should probably try to get some work done for tonight, though I'm not certain whether I have the capacity for reading Othello, Skeptics, or Chemistry: tasks that involve higher  mentalprocessing in my current sluggy state, so I reckon I should start off with some simple tasks such as checking my email, reading blogs, listening to some M. Ward, and reading the latest manga updates. 

*Note*: For thoes of you who don't know, Peeps are the lovely friendly, brightly coloured marshmallow chicks that you can find in the supermarket around Easter time. Also, the gift of Peeps is the greatest gift of all, for someone who has experienced a loss of Peeps. So buy me some Peeps!

Merry Christmas

It feels like Christmas again. Maybe it's the snow we've been getting for the past few days, bringing back the holiday spirits. Or perhaps it is the sweet aroma of rising bread from the oven, the presence of Lindt Lindor chocolate that is so often consumed during the holiday season, or maybe it's the incessant jingle of "We Wish You a Merry Christmas" that's been plaguing the house with undesired Christmas cheer for the past five hours.

Everyone loves novelty Holiday cards. One such variety is the "happy singing card", you know, thoes ones that chirp out a cute little melody of your favourite holiday jingle when you open the card, then cease once the card is closed.

I guess it was my fault really. I am being taught a valuable lesson. I just couldn't resist the temptation of indulging myself in a bit of Christmas nostaligia. 
 
"No Christmas spirit outside of Christmas time!" says the God of Life Lessons, while wagging a single accusatory finger.

I sought the sweet melody of a joyous Christmas jingle, and I am recieving punishment for my foolishness. I will suffer the sound of the singing card until I have atoned for my mistake. Never again will I engage myself in anything Christmasy until the end of the year. Who wants Christmas anyway, when you have Easter, and Peeps!

Well now, I shouldn't dawdle my time here, I must look for an appropriate place to hide the singing card until the battery runs itself out so I can go to sleep; perhaps in the refridgerator?

You have encountered Toddler at a Keyboard which lunges at you with 34q0fhsda0!

 

Today was one of thoes miserable days where the weather went back and fourth between mildly temperate (when I was inside) and blustering cold(whenever I was outside). I would venture out of shelter and think to myself that I could have a nice walk to my destination, wherever that may be, and two minutes later I would be buffetted with gusts of typhoon worthy freezing wind. Might as well have been monsooning too.

So it was a day where by all accounts I should have been in a bitter mood growling at Ms. Lehtonen whenever she walked by in the hallways, and the lady in front of me at the Safeway with 16 items in the 15 item express lane. (Two bars of soap counts as two seperate items damnit).

But I'm sitting here actually feeling pretty good, for a couple of reasons:

I've got myself two thirds of a box of Cap'n Crunch cereal to munch on for the remainder of the week! Along with my 1/4 box of Reese's Puffs cereal, that's plenty of sustainance to keep me alive for the rest of the dreadful school week, and it will more than fill my deviliciously-sweet-breakfast-cereal-tooth. That's right, it's devilicious.

A wonderful deed was performed today that set me back $6.27 and took me through freezing stormy weather to achieve; the delivery of delicious Frosted Flakes cereal to the sick and needy. A warm reception, some warm tea and bread was plenty to make the expedition seem worth it. : )

It's been the most exercise I've had in a day since walking down Davie Street to have cereal at English Bay. I've trekked plenty, and did a bit of running after a nonchalant but brisk walk away from my desk towards the classroom door. Yes! This is my sorry excuse for real exercise!

On my way home, upon stepping out into the freezing cold, I felt a cold but not unwelcomed drop fall onto my cheek. I looked up towards the dark but bright night sky and saw dozens of white specks fall towards me. Now I may be one to stress the overratedness of snow, but I do appreciate catching a nice fleeting fall of snow, certainly during an uneventful walk home. In today's case, the brief snowfall was more than welcomed.

Last but not least, this evening, it seems that I might actually for once, be up for some light early homework. By the time I'm finished with it, the night will still provide me with quality time with the ordinateur.

Hopefully, now equipped with plenty of cereal goodness, I can now face the rest of the week in high spirit, and minimal dread.