things that say a lot about me

In high school I had five particularly memorable teachers: three in English, one in Philosophy, and one in Accounting.

This, embarrassingly, explains a lot about me.

I got the degree in English and toyed with a minor in Philosophy for a while. And then there's this thing I like to do sometimes where I add up big numbers in my head and see how fast I can do it. I probably shouldn't have mentioned that last part. I came here to talk about the Beatles.

One of the memorable English teachers taught a bizarre little class where we discussed a lot of James Joyce, and I began my hatred for Conrad's 'Heart of Darkness'. (The horror.) More often than not, the already tiny class of twelve had about seven students in attendance on any given day. On one afternoon my friend and I debated all through lunch whether or not to go to the class (it was a 'Heart of Darkness' day, I'm sure of it) and ended up halfway to the bus stop before some unknown force had us running back through the school halls, ten minutes late.

We rounded the corner at a dangerous speed to find the teacher standing outside the classroom, watching us with a radiating disapproval. We panicked, then, sure, but continued on to class thinking we couldn't flee since he had seen us, and it was too late in the year to drop the class.

With an apology and outrageously hopeful spirits, we entered the classroom to find it empty save the sad piece of tumbleweed and the cricket. Upon realizing what happened, his stance at the doorway looked a lot more like the hope of a man clinging to a log in the ocean than disapproval.

The bastard still gave the lecture. We discussed Margaret Atwood's poetry, and I fell asleep halfway through with the thought: "I can't fall asleep; it's just me and one other-"

It was that kind of class.

hockey

I've been Canadian for a while now (since birth, even) and I only just started playing hockey this past September. It's great. My team has made it through the playoffs and into the finals. It begins tonight and I'm quite excited. *coughs* If only I hadn't gotten down with the drunken karaoke last night... *coughs* Bah. No regrets. :D

Hockey comes slowly tonight
I wonder if there'll be a fight
Can't wait for the game
It will be insane
But who'll win, evil or light?

the end of the world

I spent some time in Cuba recently (beautiful country, nice sand) in a resort. I admit I was not traveling for the thrill of exploring a new foreign land as I have in the past; I was there for the beach and all-inclusive alcohol.

Open bar...

Though I did get to see Havana. It was fascinating and sexy. It was a real sexy city, like New York. New York has sex appeal. So did Havana. Also, shady stores selling rum, coffee and cigars. As well as shadier individuals outside promising said goods for a cheaper price. (I am sure such places exist in NYC as well, though I have not seen them.)

During the majority of my time there, I could be found at the beach under the floppy hat, jealously guarding my book and beer with my standard paranoia and muscular travel companion. I quickly finished my novel about the gossip during the first day, and moved on to Murakami's 'Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World'.

The book is utter crack. Which isn't a bad thing. But it got me thinking about the End of the World. To be honest, a lot of things get me thinking about the End of the World, but that's only because of the aforementioned paranoia.

In any case, I went down to the beach one night and gazed out over the water. The waves broke over the sand as they did during the day, and bumped and swelled a little further out. Then a little further out... darkness. The black water stretched out and up, and up - until there were stars. There was no horizon, just blackness stretching out from your feet in the surf. It was like standing on the edge of the world. It was like standing at the End of the World.

And what if, I thought, there was nothing out there in the blackness. I knew that somewhere to the north lay Florida, and beyond that, the sexy city of New York, and beyond that, my home, my friends, my family, my bed, the mall down the street, the clubs downtown, my old schools, my favourite restaurants... But what if all that wasn't there? What if the world had ended and there were no more schools and no more clubs because there was no more electricity and no more people? What if there were no more hospitals and no more doctors and no one you could call for help? What if it was just you, standing on the edge? You and the universe and the End of the World.

I left the beach after a while and went back with my muscular travel companion to the open bar and the lights and stopped thinking about the End. For a while. But the End always creeps back into my mind. Because it's always on the edge. Waiting.

identity theft

I've been thinking a lot lately about Identity Theft. This is perhaps because in the last week, there have been three thefts concerning people I am close to. Jamais deux sans trios, oui?

In this day and age, information is sent at impossible speeds around the world, so when you're paying for yet another case of beer in Brazil, your bank in Windsor can say, "No, fool. DECLINED." And in the morning, you're glad that this technology exists. You're glad that the store that sold you your 62" television has a record of your phone number and address so when you lose the receipt and it stops working in three days, they can say, "Hey, not a problem."

But no one's glad to see that their bank account has been emptied one day. ESPECIALLY when it wasn't you who emptied it. No one wants to be turned down for a mortgage because their credit has turned sour. No one is glad to learn they're on the airport's special list because some other John Smith with your birthday (and let's face it, there must be tons) has been convicted of murder. Will the real John Smith please stand up!

So while trying to catch a cab home from the airport (because they finally figured out it wasn't you, but damn, you missed your flight), you're starting to wonder how this is possible. How can you be wanted for a crime you did not commit? How can someone else have used your debit card to demolish your life savings? How can we stop sharing so much information?

And do we even want to? What is the alternative? Sharing all this information is so convenient for everyday living, we all know this. But it comes at a price. There is that risk we take everyday. That someone could walk away with your IDENTITY. And what is scarier than that?

I think Eminem had something there.

8 things i know that you might not

- the definitions of "qat", "quirt", "quoit", and "quoin".

- Scorpio's ruling planet is Pluto. Explains a lot, yes?

- someone can get post-exposure treatment within 48 hours of being exposed to HIV which significantly decreases the chance of the virus taking hold. (Not down with the medical lingo, I know.)

- the third word in "God Only Knows" by the Beach Boys is: not.

- the fifth word is: love.

- I've done about half of my Christmas shopping for this year.

- I like limericks a lot, but I believe haiku actually has more potential for humour. If my computer let me on facebook, I would post an obscene haiku on Paul's wall.

- Edward and Bella don't like missionary.

on blogging

I like several blogs. I will visit them and laugh, and sometimes laugh some more. Some blogs I visit for the information they provide, but this is rare.

I know I've been terrible with this blog. Apologies to my reader. From now on I resolve to blog bigger and better. As a gesture of good faith to begin blogging better, I leave you kind reader with this limerick:

I'd cut up my blogspot with scizzors,
If only to make you consider,
How useless blogs are
(Have they got us far?)
I say we all defect to Twitter.

human trafficking

Human Trafficking has come up in conversation twice in the last month, which I found ... not usual. It's a horrific topic, but one that should not be ignored. It seems to be, though. We all care about the war in Iraq, and the problems with the environment, and hungry children in India, but talk about Trafficking is ominously avoided. And yet we all know it goes on. People are abducted from their homes or countries and forced into slave labour or prostitution. Is this not as terrible?

It could be the fact that problems that affect mostly women (and female children) are notoriously given less importance, but I like to think we've mostly moved past this. Still, though. Human Trafficking has been called the fastest growing criminal industry in the world, which is a scary thought. Why is no one paying attention? It's not like there aren't victims from every country, every social class in the world. Anyone could be personally affected by this, and I've seen few people who really care.

I know they care, though. Just because awareness is down, does not mean that those who become aware continue to ignore the problems. And there are women like Somaly Mam who have made great impacts on the lives of many victims. Her website: http://www.somaly.org/

It scares me that this happens to so many people, and that we hardly ever hear about it. It scares me that there is a huge market for this. (Who are all these people paying for non-consentual sex? Really. Who? And how did they get like that?) What scares me most, though, is that we as a species - the instigators, the consumers, and the ones who have done nothing to fix this - seem to have fallen down again, and we might not be able to get out of this one either.