I Remember When Dinosaurs Roamed the Earth

Depressing/hilarious conversation in class the other day:

Kid in my Aboriginal Studies class who spends the summers on reserves doing missionary work (!) -- I need a projector for my presentation because I have a power-point.

Long suffering, but patient TA -- You should have given me notice because we don't have one here now.

(Pointing to the overhead projector in the corner) Annoying girl who says stuff like, "I'm a real Torontonian, like, I grew up down-town"and "I studied Native literature last year in grade 12; I've, like, read Joseph Boyden"-- Isn't that one?

TA: No.

Other hipster Christian missionary (seriously, what is up with all the missionaries in my Aboriginal Studies class? How do they not feel awkward when we discuss the cataclysmic effect that the missionaries had on First Nations? Um, cultural genocide, yo!) -- No, that's a super old-school magnifier.

Other student young enough to be my daughter -- Haha, yeah, the one you could draw on and stuff!

Me (in my head) -- Old? When I was in school that was all we used! Wah, wah.

Nabokovvvvvvvvvvvv!!!!!! by Alex Snider

Today, I embark on a journey that will culminate with me becoming the preeminent Nabokovian scholar. That being, I begin my course on my long-dead (*come on Zombie-apocalypse*) boyfriend. Oh, can you even imagine having Vladimir for a boyfriend? He'd be the one that you'd try and impress by being all serious and smart and never fart in front of.

Been there, bought the nerdiest t-shirt ever. A side-note, this picture was ridiculously hard to take with my computer without making my breasts look like watermelons hence the terrible, half-shimmy, "who's your daddy" pose/face.

But, I digress... As you can see I am a little enamoured with the greatest writer of all time; his prose has actually brought me to tears; he is the kind of author in who's novels you would write in the margins, underlining ferociously because while you had never perceived the world that way but now that image, that thought is branded in your mind and you will never be the same. John Updike described his writing as such: "Nabokov writes prose the only way it should be written, ecstatically", which incidentally also describes how I feel reading his prose; for reals, I get goose-bumps.

Read more »

Back to School!

I have been terrible with this whole post a day business but I'm going to blame it on the fact that I start school in two (!!!!) days and I'm alternating freaking out in a good way and freaking out in a bad way.

On one hand fall, and back to school time specifically, is the best time of the year. It's colourful; it's full of promise and mystery and learning; it's a great excuse for clothing shopping; the mosquitoes are all dead (I'm from Winnipeg) and those awful, humid, sticky hot nights of tossing and turning are for the most part finished for another year (I'm on the third floor and sadly, the air-conditioning doesn't quite reach me); school supplies (is there anything better than that first word with that new pen in that fresh notebook?); there's the chance of meeting the person of your dreams...

The last time I was in university was six years ago when I dropped out, quit my job and moved to Toronto.  I wasn't exactly ready for school then, or the previous three years when I attempted to courses. But, now, nine years out of high school, I am freaking ready. I am ready to learn Ancient Greek and Latin; I am ready to study Archaeology and I am ready to start Aboriginal Studies; I am ready to be able to answer any cross-word puzzle clue regarding Roman and Greek mythology.

Oh my gosh, I'm so super excited! This is going to be the best year EVER!!!

Unless, it's not... What if I am terrible and I fail everything? I don't even know English grammar (what the hell is a dangling modifier??) so how will I learn Greek and Latin grammar? What if I lose steam and interest and drop out for the fifth time? Maybe I won't make any friends because I'm the weird older person? I might not be able to write a damn essay after years of creative writing. What if I, after the past year of debilitating and life-threatening depression, suffer a relapse and lose everything?

All I can do is hang on and try and focus on the excitement as opposed to those hypothetical questions. I mean, the positives are all pretty much guaranteed whereas all those negatives are simply possibilities. For a total control freak like myself, I do find it reassuring that both success and failure are completely up to me and, damn it, I am going to do everything in my power to excel this next year.