my-grad-life

Dear Home, I Miss You. I've Booked My Flight Home. The End.

2011-10-25T16:18:00.005-04:00

Have I mentioned that I've booked my flight home?

As of right now, there are 46 days, 1119 hours, 67179 minutes and 4030787 seconds left until I go home for Christmas.

Oh, no, I'm not homesick at all. ;)

Sort of reminds me of Joey in London in this clip. Ah, Friends. Such valuable life lessons.

I can't wait to get off that plane, jump into my parents' arms, and proceed to shower them with gifts from Selfridges. And Primark. Alway so trusty, that Primark. My mother has already made several requests.

I miss Tim Horton's. I miss paying a mere 85 cents for a maple glazed donut. Cheap snacks, my solace. I miss gulping down an ice capp on a sunny day. (Which have been really common the past month - and here I was warned that rain was a staple to English weather. Please, I haven't had to wear my rainboots at all!). Well, knock on wood. I also miss Tim Horton's turkey bacon club sandwich for $3.99. Because, that's what's up. And it tastes like home. *cries*

I miss Starbucks. Mind you, there's a Starbucks on campus. But, did you know they don't make tea lattes here? I've requested my usual London Fog at three different Starbucks locations and they had no idea what I was talking about. *cries* I can't wait to go home and order a Grande. Everyday.

I miss walking into a store and not having to stop and calculate the price conversion in my head. Because, obviously. I always forget to convert. And I end up happily skipping along the mall not really realizing the extent of how much I spent - the numbers just sound so much smaller here, yea?! It's a shopper's dream. Sheer oblivion.

I miss heading home for a homecooked meal. Why don't the meals I cook ever taste the same as my mother's? Maybe I need more salt...

I miss Dollarama. Where everything is actually a dollar.

I miss watching television on an actual television. Watching shows on my laptop just doesn't cut it.

I miss cheap Chinese food. Seriously, a smaller order at a Chinese restaurant around here is like 7 pounds. Mind you, that seems small. But with the price conversion, it's like $12. Is that not expensive? If you don't think so, you should check out Pacific Mall in Toronto. It'll blow your mind.

I miss plugging in an electronic without having to switch a "turn-on-your-electricity" button. Yeah.

I miss my parents. I really miss my mom.

I miss Tim.

I miss my friends.

I miss my lovely, amazing, beautiful friends!!

I miss my amazing church.

I miss my car. The 20 minute walk to school everyday makes me appreciate my trusty Asian Corolla so much more.

I miss my clothes. And my shoes. And my boots. And my purses. And my collection of heels. I may have brought a sufficient amount to England, but my closet just isn't the same without all my babies in there.

I miss hopping into a cab and not fearing for my life. Or not fearing that the cab I just got into was really a fake cab designed to cheat me of all my money. Oh, Birmingham cab drivers. I won't miss you when I leave.

I miss drinking Canadian cow milk.

I miss Toronto. Where people actually know where the Philippines is. Or who Filipinos are.

I miss cable internet. Did you know they don't have that here? Please, it's called ~broadband~

I miss competent banking services. Friends, whatever you do, don't bank at Lloyds.

I know I shouldn't be homesick. But right now, at this very moment, I am.

I'm sure this is just a lapse. I'll be fine. But sometimes, when you pause and think, you realize just how much home means to you and how much you appreciate it now that you're gone.

Right now, I miss home. So much. The end. 46 more days! Someone please greet me at the airport with Tim Horton's. I'll love you till the end of time.

"The romantics would call this a love story, the cynics would call it a tragedy. In my mind it's a little bit of both, and no matter how you choose to view it in the end, it does not change the fact that it involves a great deal of my life and the path I've chosen to follow."
- Nicholas Sparks, 'The Notebook'

"When I am abroad, I always make it a rule never to criticize or attack the government of my own country. I make up for lost time when I come home."
- Winston Churchill

"Home is a name, a word, it is a strong one; stronger than magician ever spoke, or spirit ever answered to, in the strongest conjuration."
- Charles Dickens

"Home is the place where, when you have to go there, they have to take you in."
- Robert Frost

The Problem With Law School - Competition and the Importance of Friendship?

2011-10-25T13:52:00.017-04:00

You know that kid in Grade 9 math class who would turn around, ask you what your answer is, then proceed to tell you exactly why they're better than you? You know. Something about how your x and y axis was blah blah blah blah and thats why you're dumb and they're not blah blah blah?

Kid, relax. You wanted to roll your eyes at their self-righteousness when you were 14 years old - and you'd probably want to do the same now.

Just. Relax. Make a friend instead. It's that easy, no?

Maybe this is just rhymeless reason. Or just minor food for thought after a long, tiring day. And maybe this is just long-accepted reality many before me have come to realize and accept. Maybe this is just how law school is. So, you know, grow up, Barb. Deal with it. And maybe this is just human nature - to compete, to get ahead at all costs. To make friendships but to always always always just look out for yourself. To be extremely aware of everyone's "level of intelligence." Then proceed to rationalize how your own "level of intelligence" stacks up against your peers. It's a constant game of self-indulgence and silently malicious culture where people rationalize their own worth by belittling other people.

Seriously. We're grown ups. Do students really have to be so mean to their peers?! Why do some students have to be so mean to each other in an attempt to get to the top? I just don't understand it. Please. Save your words and let your grades do the talking.

Does law school really have to be that way? Is that type of scornful behaviour necessarily ingrained in law school culture?

Friends, it doesn't have to be that way if you don't let it.

Before I came to law school, friends warned me about what to expect. I waved their concerns off. I said, please, I've watched Legally Blonde. I know what law school's like. I know you have to work hard. I know you don't show up to a party as a Playboy Bunny. I know I need to run away if I see Professor Callahan (okay, I seriously need to chill on these Legally Blonde references). I know. But I wasn't always so sure about believing the nature of law school culture - the outward friendliness but inward, silent malicious competition.

It's kind of sad, really. Did I put too much faith on genuine kindness?

Hey, don't get me wrong. As I've said before, I love it here. I love my program, the friends I've made. I've met many wonderful, kind people - many who don't fall under the category I'm writing about today. I love the independence, I love what I'm learning. But, you know, law school also carries with it a certain stigma. That stigma where everyone silently one-ups each other in a game of outward friendliness but inward, silent competition. Where inner rationalization of your own self-righteousness makes you think you can belittle other people.

It's sad. I just wish kindness was still a staple these days.

I'm not saying we should hold hands and sing Kumbaya. I'm not naive. Law school isn't about dancing with unicorns under a rainbow. Neither is life. There's absolutely nothing wrong with competition and trying your absolute best - that's how success is born.

But competition doesn't have to be mutually exclusive with kindness. With friendship. With loyalty, affection. Constantly rationalizing why you're better than your peers or why your answers are better than other people's won't bring you friends. Big surprise.

It won't hurt you to be nice to people.

Aesop said so. It must be true. And is that honestly, really, truthfully, so hard? It shouldn't be. Whether you're in law school or not.

Wanna hold hands? Wanna sing Kumbaya? No? We don't have to go thattttttt far, don't worry. (I don't know the words!!). But what we can do is become friends, help each other out when problem cases are a confusing puzzle, give each other a hand when you skip the Misrepresentation and Negligence lecture because you couldn't stand the professor, and to just be kind, thoughtful human beings.

Is that really so hard?

Why burn bridges when you can be kind, tactful even, instead? It shouldn't be that hard, yea?

Just a thought for the day. I'll go play with my unicorns now.

"It's just something that happens as you grow up. You realize it's less important to have more friends and it's more important to have real ones."

"Are you upset, little friend? Have you been lying awake worrying? Well, dont worry. I'm here. The flood waters will recede, the famine will end. The sun will shine tomorrow. And I will always be here to take care of you."
- Charlie Brown to Snoopy

"People are getting smarter nowadays; they're letting lawyers, instead of their conscience, be their guide."
- Will Rogers

"A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval."
- Mark Twain

"Always do right. This will gratify some people and astonish the rest."
- Mark Twain

I guess I'm Not British Yet - Culture Shock in England (From A Canadian, With Love)

2011-10-18T15:02:00.025-04:00

Did you know the British don't tip?

I know. I didn't either.

Apparently, tipping is an "American thing."

Speaking of - did you know the British think I'm American?

If I could count how many people have asked me whether I was American the minute they heard my accent, I'd have the money to pay for next year's tuition. True story.

So. About this tipping business.

A few weeks ago, after an evening on Broad Street, I hopped into one of the cabs (which, let me tell you, are pretty shady in this country) patrolling the area, and directed him to my residence. Upon arrival, I handed him my cash and waited for my change. He gave me 5 pounds in return, and ruefully, playing the part of the cheap student, I handed him 3 pounds.

I felt horrible. I felt cheap. I thought I should be tipping more. Back home, we pull out our Tip Calculators like it's second nature. When I told my British flatmates that we usually tip 10-15% of the bill back home, they looked at me like I grew a second head. But, that's the thing. Back home, we tip because it's social convention. Because it's rude not to.

"Keep the change," I told my cab driver apologetically, "It's not much, but enjoy the tip!"

Cab Driver looked at me in surprise, chuckled, then pocketed my 3 pounds, shaking his head.

I thought he shook his head in disapproval. You know, cheap student. Ergo, lack of common courtesy. Ergo, measly tip. I hung my head in shame.

No. Sit down, Barb. He was chuckling at your naiveté.

And so, there I was, a naive Canadian tipping EVERYWHERE. For TWO weeks. Because I didn't know any better. The hair salon, bartenders, cab drivers, restaurants - you name it. I was a freaking tipping machine. I think I tipped the hair salon 5 pounds - even though I hated my haircut and thought it looked like someone sawed my hair off. Oh, my beloved hair. They ruthlessly chopped off three inches. It broke my heart.

No wonder every country in the universe thinks Canadians are nice.

Please. Sit down. Sometimes, we're just suckers.

Because, well. It wasn't until a few weeks after my arrival I was told that shocking truth: Barb, they don't tip in England. Here, tipping bartenders is an oddity. Here, tipping cab drivers is just weird.

Oh, god. My cab driver probably thought I was hitting on him.

*face palm*

I never anticipated how much culture shock I'd experience when I arrived. What can I say? I'm naive. Pre-law school Barb thought: they speak English here. Of course their culture is similar. But it isn't. Boy, is it different. Those shocks of difference reverberated, echoed my first few weeks here.

Mind you, in many ways, the culture is very similar. Birmingham and London remind me of Toronto in many ways - the city's hustle and bustle, the quiet busyness, the individualism - these characteristics are what you can expect with any big city, I suppose.

But in other ways, I've had to adjust to a lot.

Like, did you know British eggs don't turn yellow here? I spent half an hour trying to fry eggs on high heat a few weeks ago, wondering why, pray tell, my eggs stayed completely white. They wouldn't turn their familiar bright yellow. Because apparently, they have different chickens here.

Different chickens.

DIFFERENT chickens. That produce white eggs apparently.

Their white sugar is different. They have two-ring binders instead of three-ring. Ergo, they use foreign two-ring hole punches instead of three role punches (this REALLY got to me, I tell you). They get on the bus on the OTHER side of the vehicle (obviously, I knew this coming here, but it still trips me out how opposite the roads are). And did I mention that I still don't know how to cross the street in this country? I never know where to look. Let me tell you, I've had a number of close calls with oncoming vehicles in the last month. Especially since a number of roads dictate that pedestrians don't have the right of way.

I know these seem like little things. And that I'm complaining over nothing.

Stop being such a baby, Barb.

But when you move to another country, all by yourself, where you know absolutely nobody - it's those little things, those little shocks of difference that get to you. When your eggs don't turn yellow, when you have to buy a brand spankin' new foreign two-hole punch, when you make do with foreign sugar, when your milk tastes funny and saturated and weird, when your wallet's bursting full of funny looking coins, when you get on the opposite side of a bus.... when everything just suddenly feels different.

So different that it scares you.

When everything just feels so peculiar - so foreign, so unlike home. That's when the homesickness hits you. And that's when the truth really dawns on you: that you're halfway around the world, across a major ocean, away from your family, your friends, your boyfriend, and everyone you love. You're in Europe. A brand new country. Starting life over.

That's when culture shock electrifies you.

I admit - the first week here, I was scared. I didn't know how to adjust. Every shred of independence I had in me risked decapitation. Everything was different - I was homesick.

But, you know what? Despite the shocks - I think the true test of growing up comes from being able to adjust to new circumstances. And I think I'm doing just that. Learning, Settling. Adjusting. England is amazing - and it would be a shame to hide in my own comfort and risk losing the opportunity to learn everything about it.

A month after moving here, I think I've settled in. I've gotten used to the differences and quirks this wonderful country has to offer. I've gotten used to the milk. But, mind you, I haven't been eating eggs.

At first, the culture shock threw me off. It made me miss my security, my comfort, my home. I missed everything I've known my whole life - my neighbourhood, my car, my trusty fried yellow eggs.

But, after spending the past month shaking off the shocks, I've realized that living in England isn't something I should be so afraid of - how many people get this opportunity in their lifetime? To live in Europe? To experience something more than the comforts of home?

This is an opportunity. Not something to be apprehensive about. The differences in culture might be unsettling at first - but it's an opportunity to learn about a whole new world, a whole new country that can give us life experiences which set us apart from people back home. Life experiences that change us, helps us grow up, and toy with that thing called independence.

I live in Europe now. OMG. I live in EUROPE now. Isn't that a wonderful thing? It's amazing. If there's one thing I've learn so far, it's this: we should embrace the shocks and learn about them, yea? Adjust to them, integrate ourselves, learn as much as we can! Exhibit A: my first mission is to learn why my darn eggs won't turn yellow.

So, in essence, I'm not British yet. But I'm learning to live with and embrace British culture, British quirks, British slang, British sayings. I'm not quite there yet - but I'm adjusting. And I'm ready to learn everything this wonderful new world has to offer.

"Ask most people what they want out of life and the answer is simple – to be happy. Maybe it’s this expectation, though, the wanting to be happy that just keeps us from ever getting there. Maybe the more we try and will ourselves to states of bliss, the more confused we get to the point where we don’t recognize ourselves. Instead, we just keep smiling trying to be the happy people we wish we were until, eventually, it hits us. It’s been there all along. Not in our dreams or hopes, but in the known, the comfortable, the familiar."
- Grey's Anatomy

"Every cell in the human body regenerates on average every seven years. Like snakes, in our own way we shed our skin. Biologically, we're brand new people. We may look the same - we probably do. The change isn't visible, at least in most of us. But, still, we're all changed - completely, forever."
- Grey's Anatomy

"These are my words to you: Be not afraid of life. Believe that life is worth living, and your belief will help create that fact."
- William James

"You don't have to be a 'person of influence' to be influential. In fact, the most influential people in my life are probably not even aware of the things they've taught me."
- Scott Adams

My First Month of Law School - Summer's Over, New Beginnings, Prepping For Life-Changing Decisions

2011-10-17T15:40:00.011-04:00

My dear loyal readers,

I've neglected you.

What can I say? I'm sorry. What do I owe you? A hug? A drink? A nice cup of steaming hot cocoa the next time I see your lovely faces? As much as I loved blogging regularly this past year, life as we know it caught up to me this summer. I'm sorry. C'est la vie.

Clearly, my last blog post was ages ago. Three months ago to be exact. A lot has changed in the last few months of this grad life of mine - it was a life-changing summer, to be sure. I last updated all of you whilst frantic on the floor of my home in Kingston, Ontario, surrounded by boxes and garbage bags, packing up my life as a Masters student at Queen's University. And, side note, I ended up having to leave some furniture behind because I had too much crap to move back home. How did I end up moving more stuff back home than I brought to Kingston?

Curses. We should have hired a U-Haul. Ah, summer memories.

These days, my life at Queen's seems like an alternate reality. My year in Kingston feels, honestly, like a distant memory these days. Running to class, grading essays, slaving over TA prep work, reading, researching, reading, and more reading. It just feels like so long ago. It's funny how time flies by so quickly and life as we know it changes so drastically with every new decision we make.

And, yes, decisions. I made them. Boy, did I make them. Remember how you left me last? Agonizing over which school to go to? It was a tumultuous summer deciding which law school to inevitably accept. And, fast forward over the tears, the panic, the reservations that plagued me over July and August, I'm here - right now, I'm thousands of miles away from Mississauga, from Toronto, from my grad life in Kingston.

Hundreds of thousands of miles away in jolly old England.

Why England, you ask? Why not the US schools I agonized over for so long? That's a blog post for another day.

For now, I'm just glad I've decided to start blogging again. Because, well, what can I say? I've missed you all! i'm not going to lie and say I can blog regularly this year. But I will say that I'll try to regularly blog. How many of us can document their years of law school on a blog like this? I'd like to keep it up, as a compilation of memories, if nothing else.

PREPARING FOR LAW SCHOOL

So, yes, in the last few weeks before the start of school, I was in a state of panic. The weeks I spent getting my visa, purchasing all the items I needed for a trans-continental move, saying goodbye to friends, family, and loved ones. Booking my flight, packing my life away in several suitcases (do you KNOW how much it hurts to leave your precious wardrobe at home?!). And, basically, panicking for no reason. Because trans-continental moves do that to you.

Honestly, you cannot imagine my state of mind the last couple of months before this move. I was scared out of my mind. Moving to a US law school wouldn't have been as scary, I admit. It's just across the border. I could run home whenever I wanted. But, here, across that pond they call the Atlantic Ocean, I can't run home. I'm all by myself.

I was petrified to move to another country. To another continent when I've lived in Canada most of my life. And yet, I'll admit that it's an experience I wouldn't trade for anything. The life experience of living in Europe for a couple of years is indescribable - if moving away to Kingston did something for my independence, a move to Europe could sure as heck do wonders to a mommy's girl like me.

Well, after getting my visa, packing, flying, stopping over in Brussels for the longest layover known to man, I'm here. Safe, sound, if not a little home-sick, thrown off by culture shock, and missing the comforts of Canada. Because seriously, the minute I land in Toronto for Christmas, I'm heading over to the nearest Tim Horton's to nurse a beloved iced capp.

And, oh, believe me. You wouldn't think the British were capable of giving you culture shock. But they are. It takes awhile adjusting to another country - even if they also speak English. But that's a blog post for another day.

MY FIRST MONTH OF LAW SCHOOL

Okay, so I know I have a tendency to gush over how much I loooove everything (See: posts on my first day of my Masters program, etcetera etcetera).

So, it shouldn't be a surprise to read about how much I've loved and enjoyed my first month here. My first month as a law student has been nothing short of interesting. Friends have told me how much they hated Contract Law. But, you know what? I actually love it. I don't mind running home on a Friday night to slave over problem cases about Offer and Acceptance.

That isn't sarcasm.

And, hey, even if I don't understand Consideration just yet - I don't mind slaving over the 100 page chapter about it.

That isn't sarcasm either.

Don't give me a lecture about how boring this stuff is. You put that away! I love it. And I'm glad I'm learning it. There's nothing more amazing than living something you've always dreamed of.

Mind you, it's a crapload of work. My sleeping habits are nothing to be desired. I'm pretty sure I need to purchase concealer to hide the bags under my eyes. This first month of law school has worked me harder than the first three months of my Masters program. But, I enjoy it. And that's what matters, yea? The hard work - it'll be worth it in the end. And believe me, it's a LOT OF WORK.

If there's anything I can say right now, it's this: everything happens for a reason. And this transcontinental move to Europe is something I hardly regret. I'm enjoying law school more than I could have imagined.

Although, side note. Law school also breeds competition. And there's nothing worse than having to watch your back around your peers. But unfortunately, you'll find that people may will belittle you, your qualifications, and your education for the sake of looking better than you.

Law school is great. But, you need to be careful. Take my advice. I've seen it. And it's only Week 4. Unfortunately, that's the truth.

Anyway, aside from that negative note, I love it here. I love the friends I've made, and I'm enjoying school. It's funny how much my grad life has changed this past year. We're growing up, we're making decisions. We're changing careers, we've left for different schools.

Enjoy your life-changing decisions as you live them, my friends. Every minute is something to treasure!

With all my love,

Your resident grad-life-blogger-who-started-to-blog-again-woot!

"I chose to go to law school because I thought that someday, somehow I'd make a difference."
- Christopher Darden

"Unless it's extraordinary love, it's a waste of your time. There are too many mediocre things in life. Love shouldnt be one of them."

"It's my favourite class to teach. Usually, someone cries."
- Civil Rights Litigation Professor

Dear Kingston, I Move Out In 2 Days - Goodbye Queen's!

2011-06-23T16:48:00.018-04:00

I can't believe I'm leaving.

My life as a graduate student is almost over.

For all my complaints and worries (and blog posts dictating my complaints and worries) throughout the year, I have to admit that I'm quite sad to be leaving this place. I remember moving in last September, scared out of my mind that attempting a Masters degree was the worst decision I'd ever made.

It wasn't. This year at Queen's was more than I imagined it would be. And now, in about 48 hours, it'll be over.

My parents are heading here on Saturday to help me move out, so I woke up early this morning to start the daunting task of packing up my room. Can someone remind me why I brought so much stuff? I'm actually starting to panic. I have no idea how I'm going to fit all this stuff into my parents' car. It took two trips to bring my things to Kingston - and somehow, we're supposed to bring all this stuff back home in one trip. This is going to be... interesting. Books, clothes, shoes, books, books (why are there so many?!), some random furniture, and other miscellaneous items. Not to mention the fact that I haven't cleaned out my office yet.

UM. Why do I have so much stuff?! Good thing I didn't decide to pack the night before I moved out.

My closet now looks empty, with most of my clothing packed away. My walls look bare, with all my posters and pictures taken down. My desk is empty, with all my study items packed away in boxes.

Oh, this is bittersweet.

And, to top it off, amid all this packing hoopla, I'm also editing my MRP.

Too much stress! Not enough time!

And, to top that off, I've come down with the flu. Packing and editing my MRP with this cold hasn't been easy, when all I want to do is hibernate under the covers and sleep away my cold.

Kingston, I've grown pretty attached to you. You were the first city I moved to where I knew absolutely nobody, leaving behind the life I knew, the people I loved, and the family I've never left. People complain that Kingston is a dump - a small town where you have absolutely nothing to do. Well, you know, I'd beg to differ. I actually quite like this city - I've grown to love it, actually. Kingston, you've been everything I would have wanted in a university experience away from home. Queen's provided something UofT didn't: a wonderful, close-knit student community (grad students included) who I've had the pleasure of getting to know, and I greatly enjoyed every moment of my time here.

I'm not going to pretend that life in Kingston was perfect. That this grad life was stress free, that the workload was easily manageable. There were inevitably bouts of homesickness, Skype dates confessing how much I missed home, late nights working away on papers, hours and hours spent at the library and the office, hours spent slaving away over essays that needed to be marked.

But, you know, if I could go back and re-live the moment I decided to come to Queen's, I'd still make the same decision.

We're too smart to be overly cynical. And so, while some moments of this grad life were more stressful than others, I will say that this whole year has been an experience I wouldn't trade for anything. I've learned so much and experienced more than I thought I would, more than I bargained for.

As for the friends and people that I've met and grown to know this year, I will say that you have all made this year a wonderful experience - and a lot more bearable, given the stress and workload we were all under. It will probably be a very long time before I see you all again. And so, I will say that I've been so very blessed to have met each of you, and that I consider myself lucky to have befriended each of you, even if it was just for a year. And, wherever we all end up next year, always remember that I'm just a phone call or a message away, should any of you need anything! :)

Kingston, I will remember my time here fondly. I'll probably never have the chance to live here again. But, rest assured, I will always have a special place in my heart for this charming city.

Goodbye, Kingston!

"Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time."
— Maya Angelou

"All endings are also beginnings. We just don't know it at the time."
— Mitch Albom (The Five People You Meet in Heaven)

"The very least you can do in your life is figure out what you hope for. And the most you can do is live inside that hope. Not admire it from a distance, but live right in it, under its roof."
— Barbara Kingsolver

Back To Kingston - One Last Time!

2011-06-14T17:49:00.010-04:00

Oh, this is bittersweet.

So, I hadn`t planned on spending this much time in Toronto. I came back on May 19 to be around for a family reunion over the Victoria Day long weekend, and then, of course, I stuck around for my New York trip at the end of May. I had intended to go back to Kingston a few days after I arrived back from New York. But, of course, things didn`t end up that way. One event was planned after another - another family reunion (on a smaller scale), my uncle`s birthday, events with friends. And.... I ended up staying in Toronto for the first couple of weeks of June.

So, basically, I`ve been home for almost a month. It almost feels like I`ve already moved out of Kingston. But, I haven`t. Yet. I need to keep reminding myself that I`m still a resident of Kingston, Ontario - for about two more weeks.

So, here I go again. One last time. Running around, packing my bags, stuffing my suitcase with shoes and clothing I`ve lugged back and forth from city to city. I`ve done this a number of times this past year - going back and forth from Kingston to Mississauga, from Mississauga to Kingston, on Thanksgiving, Christmas Break, Reading Week, Easter Weekend, and various weekends in between.

I can`t believe this is the last time I`m doing this. It seems just like yesterday that I was moving in, scared out of my wits that my year at Queen`s would seem like an eternity.

But it didn`t feel that way at all. And now, I`m moving out of my Kingston home in exactly two weeks. It went by so fast. Unbelievable.

So, time to make my last days in Kingston count, right? Exploring places I didn`t get to during the school year? Plus, I`ll be spending my birthday in Kingston on Saturday, so it should be fun times, celebrating with Kingston friends!

So, I board my bus tomorrow morning. Here we go, two more weeks, Kingston. Let`s make it memorable.

"There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle."
— Albert Einstein

"What is that feeling when you're driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? - it's the too-huge world vaulting us, and it's good-bye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies."
— Jack Kerouac

"And by the way, Monsieur Marius, I believe that I was a little bit in love with you."
— Victor Hugo (Les Misérables)

The Credential Inflator - The (Worst?) Way To Someone's Heart

2011-06-12T22:45:00.042-04:00

Okay, funny story time! Actually, I should say stories, plural. But, they're funny stories with a moral. Aesop would be proud of me, no? By the way, these are all true stories.

First, the side stories.

SIDE STORY 1:

This is a story about a friend, but I won't use her real name on this post. Let's call her Jenny for the sake of anonymity from the rest of our friends out there reading this. One afternoon, Jenny was pumping gas at the gas station, texting me while she was doing so (WHICH IS NOT SAFE, JENNY, BEE TEE DOUBLE YEW). Yet, while she did so, a man dressed in carpenter overalls pumped gas beside her - blatantly checking her out. Rolling her eyes, she headed in to pay, grabbed a chocolate bar (upon contemplation), and walked out. Yet, as she headed out, Man In The Overalls walked up to her, grinned conversationally, and winked "Hey, Beautiful. What's up?"

Jenny rolled her eyes, grabbed her keys, and walked past him. As she did, she heard him chuckle behind her. He called after her, "Hey, I noticed the UofT keychain on your keys. So, you're one of those educated types, eh? Is that why you won't talk to me? 'Cause I'm a carpenter? What if I was wearing a suit? Would you talk to me then?"

Uncomfortable, Jenny jumped into her car, and booked the heck out of the gas station. She called me later that day to relay the story.

The nerve, right?

No, Overalls. She won't talk to you because you're weird.

SIDE STORY 2:

So, one autumn afternoon last October, coming home from Queen's for the Thanksgiving long weekend, I sat at Union Station waiting for my Dad to pick me up. Seated beside my suitcases, I played Sudoku (because I'm a nerd) and constantly checked my watch for the time.

Then, a relatively good-looking guy in a security uniform sat beside me. Thinking I was in his way, I moved over to give him more room.

Except, ugh, this happened. Security Uniform smiled, nodded at my Sudoku book, and tried to make conversation. "So, cool game, eh?"

Oh, for the love of all that is holy.

I was a little sketched out. It was late at night, I was by myself. Safety first, right? And plus, I know I watch too many movies, but what if his security uniform was FAKE?! No one hits on customers on the job! Uncomfortable, I stood, I smiled, nodded yes, grabbed my suitcases, and began to roll them towards the Exit.

"Hey," yelled Security Uniform, "You're wearing a Queen's University sweatshirt. Just because you go to Queen's, you think you're too good to talk to me?! Huh? Because you're more educated?!"

Good call on running away, Barb.

THE MAIN STORY - LESSONS ON CREDENTIAL INFLATORS

So, Jenny and I, along with a bunch of other friends, had a fantastic weekend. Movies, outings, went out in Toronto, breakfasts, etc. It was a wonderful (yet obviously unproductive) weekend.

But, so, here's the scenario for you. We're at a club/a restaurant. It's fun times, right? (Actually, so much fun!). And, of course. My friends are gorgeous, so situations like the ones to follow happen more often than not. And so, the traditional ritual of mating dance begins with introductions ensuing between prospective admirers and my friends, among those invited to the party. Mutual friends are a good way to meet people, right?

Yet, hilariously (and actually kind of interestingly) the following conversations happen. Note: I'm not using real names here.

-----------------------

My friend, Sarah: So, what do you do?
Guy #1: I actually work at a call centre in Toronto. You?
My friend, Sarah: Oh, I just graduated from UofT. I'll be going to med school in September.
Guy #1: Oh... you're one of those.
My friend, Sarah: ......
-----------------------

My friend, Jenny: So, what do you do?
Guy #2: I work at a gym. I'm a personal trainer. What about you?
My friend, Jenny: Oh, I'm about to start my pharmaceuticals Masters program this Fall.
Guy #2: Oh.... you're one of those educated types.
My friend, Jenny: Um, okay....
-----------------------

Guy #3: So, Sally, what do you do?
My friend, Sally: I'm in Pharmacy at UofT, I'll be done in a year. Pretty pumped!
Guy #3: Oh, yeah?
My friend, Sally: What about yourself?
Guy #3: Um..... well, you see, I'm actually a co-owner of a major, huge, large corporation here in Toronto.
My friend, Sally: Oh, which one?
Guy #3: Well, it's a major corporation that deals with investments and banks and such. I get to fly all over the world. I have my own private jet since I'm an assets manager, you see. And I handle all the private accounts.
My friend, Sally (skeptical): Oh, yea? And you're pretty young, that sounds awesome. Where did you go to school?
Guy #3: Yes, it is. And, I attended McMaster University's Rotman School of Business.
My friend, Sally (rolls her eyes): You mean UOFT's Rotman School? McMaster doesn't have a business school.
Guy #3 (nervously): Oh... crap, yeah.
----------------------

Guy #4: So, what are you up to for the summer now that you're done your Masters?
Me: Just taking it easy, before I go to school in September.
Guy #4: What are you doing in September?
Me: I'm going to law school! Pretty excited. What about you? What do you do?
Guy #4: Oh.. law school, eh? Um... I'm, um, I'm actually the new owner of a business set to gain about a million dollars next year.
Me: What?!
Guy #4: Yes, I'm starting a new business that should be bought over by Amazon.
Me: Oh.... (*thinks to myself* this doesn't make any sense)
Guy #4: I'll be working for a Fortune 500 company soon. And plus, I'll be heading to medical school in September, so I'm planning to be a neurosurgeon. I'll be going to Princeton Medical School.
Me (Ivy League spidey senses on alert): Um, Princeton doesn't have a medical school. Or any professional school, for that matter.
Guy #4: *silence*
---------------------------

Do we see a pattern starting to emerge? After our night at Rockwood, Jenny and I have come up with a new term: Credential Inflators.

We laugh about it all the time (incessantly, almost). But, it's true, no? We've seen this happen so often - to our friends, to us. It's almost a common occurrence, in fact. That learning about a prospective love interest's education is a topic that can make someone back off, to even feel angry or insecure, or lead someone to lie blithely about their own education or occupation. Like the last two guys above. Hence, the term Credential Inflator.

You know what I'm talking about.

Like.

"Hi Sarah, my name is Bob. Oh, you're in Pharmacy at UofT? Well, I'm a cardiovascularmortologist at the Toronto Medical Centre Hospital. I'm a doctor of brains and hearts and legs. I'm the bestest best doctor. And I went to Harvard Medical School. I have lots of credentials. Please like me."

Oh. *face palm*

SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT? BE YOURSELVES!!

We've noticed this happen a lot. Men or women back off from a potential love interest once education comes into play. Really? Really.

But, here's the thing.

As my dear friend Mary (again, fake name!) puts it, "You can be a jerk with one degree. And you can be a jerk with five degrees. There's more to a love interest than credentials."

So true, M. So true.

Obviously, from the above stories and scenarios, a couple of themes reveal themselves. Scenarios where my friends were called out for being "too good" for certain men because of their education OR my friends being subjected to men inflating their credentials in order to look like a valuable suitor/potential significant other.

Oh, boy. If there's anything that annoys me more, it's the above two scenarios. Really? Picking on someone for not responding to your lame pickup line by accusing them of being elitist because of their education? What if she just doesn't like you? Like, what if she just genuinely doesn't hit it off with you? And, secondly, really? Inflating your job position or education to look good for a girl? I understand you're doing so because you like her, but that's not cool either. Not cool. Especially WHEN YOU'RE BLATANTLY LYING! Like the last two guys in the scenarios above.

But, I'll be the first to admit it. We can be guilty of looking at credentials all too carefully, if you know what I mean. School? Profession? Education? Income? Family? There's that infamous list. Don't scoff, you know these have crossed your mind.

And in this grad life of ours, going through life as 20-somethings, with the reality of "settling down" closer than when it was when we were teenagers, you tend to think of these things, no?

But, here's the thing. Credentials can be part of the picture if you want it to be. But, you know. When you get right down to it, it isn't the ENTIRE picture. You don't have to bank chiefly on credentials or being a certain profession to be appealing. Education is one thing - but being a good person that someone genuinely wants to get to know, that someone would want to pursue a relationship with, is completely another.

And, so, back to stories of my friends and I's experiences up. Guys, really? Backing off from getting to know a girl because she has more degrees than you do? You can call her educated, but she isn't stupid enough to let go of a great guy if he doesn't have the education she does. It isn't all about the education. And, on the flip side. Guys, really? Lying or inflating your education and/or career to look good for a girl? Really? Have more self-respect than that. What happened to being honest?

The lessons here? Let me go a little Aesop on you, friends.

Be yourselves.

To the MEN reading this post: Don't let your credentials, her credentials (or lack thereof) make you hesitate from getting to know a girl you're interested in. If you feel insecure about not having the "education" she does, or if you feel like she doesn't have the "education" you think you'd want in a girl, just take a chance anyway. Throw those insecurities aside. Get to know her first. And go ahead and get to know her beyond those typical "requirements" you have in a partner. You may be surprised at what you find.

To the WOMEN reading this post: Girls, I know there's that saying where we shouldn't "settle." And, of course, if you aren't completely into your prospective admirer, then, fine, backing off is totally understandable. But, what if you actually meet a really, really awesome prospective partner? Someone you'd actually love to get to know? Are you really going to let them go because they aren't a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer, etc? Don't regret it and let them get away. Take a chance. It's as easy as agreeing to a coffee date. And if it doesn't work out, then, hey, at least you tried. But, I feel like we need to be more open-minded (myself included), beyond those strict superficial "requirements" we usually have in a partner.

Love is more than just someone's profession. Love is more than where someone went to school. Love is more than just someone's income bracket. When you look for a partner, you don't engage in a relationship just because of their education or income (unless you're a, well, gold digger, obviously), right?

You want to love the actual person, not where their diploma came from. Because at the end of the day, you come home to someone you love. You don't come home to a credential.

So, be yourselves. Be your wonderful, kind, normal, thoughtful selves. Education is one thing - but in a prospective love interest, boyfriend/girlfriend, life partner, it isn't the only issue on the table. Showing yourself to be genuine, interesting, and nice person matters more than your profession.

Your heart, your personality, and your actions, speak more about you than a university degree ever will.

Remember that the next time someone catches your eye, yea?

"I think if I've learned anything about friendship, it's to hang in, stay connected, fight for them, and let them fight for you. Don't walk away, don't be distracted, don't be too busy or tired, don't take them for granted. Friends are part of the glue that holds life and faith together. Powerful stuff."
— Jon Katz

"If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain."
— Emily Dickinson

"To love oneself is the beginning of a lifelong romance."
— Oscar Wilde

Tough Life Decisions - You Know You're Growing Up When...

2011-06-12T13:13:00.023-04:00

This blog post is going to be a bit somber. Probably because this weekend was full of decisions I struggled making and also because I literally haven't slept in the last two days (uh, it was a busy but super fun weekend, doot doo doo doooo...). See: bags under my eyes.

Side Note: Just to throw a wrench into this melancholy blog post, here's a super sad story that was so heartbreaking I just had to share it:

Last night, after a night at Rockwood with Esther, walking to a Vietnamese restaurant on Spadina and Dundas, we encountered an older gentleman on his knees, asking us for change. Automatically reaching for our wallets, we forked over what we could. While my friends walked away, I lingered back for a few seconds. Because, well, I felt so bad for him. Dropping my change into his hands, I asked him if he had a place to stay for the night, whether he had a job, and what he did for a living. Confused, he shook his head to all my questions. I wasn't sure if he understood me. Backing off, and walking away towards my friends, I glanced over my shoulder and saw him crawling under a blanket strewn on the sidewalk. It was actually quite heartbreaking. And I know scenes like this are a common occurrence in Toronto, but it's still so sad to witness it when you do, you know?

Anyway, back to my post. Sad story over, yet moving on to an equally unsettling topic.

I know many of us are going through a phase in life where pretty crucial decisions need to be made in the next few months. Be it where to go to grad school or med school in September, what job to apply for, when to start our own businesses, whether to accept a marriage proposal (please, I know several going through this!), are just some of the crucial decisions my friends are going through. And it's a big deal. Plus, like most of you know, my own life changing choice at the moment is the decision of where to go to law school in September.

Allow me to try explaining this decision making crisis in words.

It's like you've been given multiple forks on the road. It's like you've been given several options for your life, and you're scared to death that you'll choose the wrong one. What if I choose and I turn out to be completely, utterly wrong? What if my life is screwed up as a result? And again... what if I'm wrong? What if I choose and end up completely hating it? What if I shouldn't even be doing this?

I actually have a sinking feeling in my stomach every time I think about having to choose a law school.

I can't even count how many people have asked me which school I've picked, in this weekend alone, in the last two days. And, each time, the moment someone asked, I could feel the rising bubbles of panic in my tummy. And, as always, I end up laughing uncomfortably for a few seconds, give a them a quick vague answer, and walk away feeling like an idiot.

I know we're all welling up with uncertainty. We're at the point in life where drastic changes happen regularly. We aren't just choosing which schools to go to in September (although I know many of us are), we're choosing where to live as we move out on our own, we're choosing which jobs would best fit our career paths. We're choosing who to date, who to avoid like the plagueeeee (oh, the stories). We're deciding how to let go of friends, how to reconnect with friends. This life, especially this 20-something age bracket we're in right now - it's full of decisions that boggle and hurt my mind.

Sometimes, it's just so much easier to curl up in a ball and cry, no? Or does that make us wimps? Because then I'd definitely have to call myself a wimp.

I have no advice to offer you guys today. I'm in a state of crisis myself, if you couldn't tell. I'll just end here with yet another rhetorical question before going back to my work, and perhaps a small dose of optimism.

When did life get so hard?

But, let's be optimistic, friends.

Decision time is almost near. It'll be over soon. And, when all else fails, go with your gut instinct - go with your heart.

"We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love."
— Dr. Seuss

"Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are truly endless."
— Mother Teresa

The Ripe Old Age of 20-Something - "Why Aren't You Married Yet?!?!"

2011-06-07T07:23:00.033-04:00

Hi, friends! I've been MIA the last couple of weeks, especially since my New York trip. I'm sorry! I've been holed up at home trying to finish this thesis, with no room to blog, to eat, to blog, to breathe. But, thank God, it's almost done. I'm so glad it's almost done. I hand in my draft this week. And not a minute too soon, since I'm starting to lose grip on my sanity, I'm telling you.

Anyway. I'm taking a break from editing my thesis to mention something that happened over the weekend. It was an.... interesting encounter.

So, my parents and I were at a social function. It was fun, it was great, the food was good (that's always important. Who else makes a beeline for the canapés? Anyone?). And, as per usual, as my parents and I mingled, I was asked what I was doing in school, where I go to school, etcetera.

And, as I did, the following conversation occurred between myself and a middle-aged couple - with a number of people within earshot. Mr. A and Mrs. A are in their mid-40s, with a couple of teenage children.

Mr. A: So, Barbara, are you almost done your Masters?
Me: Yes, I'll be done in 2 weeks!
Mr. A: Oh, I see. But... how old are you now?
Me: I'm 23 years old.
Mr. A: Don't you turn 24 years old soon?
Me: Well... yes. In a few weeks.
Mr. A: So, you're 24 years old. And you're still going to law school after?
Me: Well... yes.
Mr. A: So how old will you be when you're done?
Me: I'll be 27 years old.
Mr. A: (a little condescendingly, a little knowingly, a little concerned): Oh.. I see.
Me: Why do you ask?
Mr. A: Well.... you know... you're getting old. Shouldn't you be getting married soon? Why waste another 3 years in school? In the Philippines, girls your age are already married with kids.
Me (looking for an exit, trying to be polite): Oh... okay.
Mrs. A: Don't you even have a boyfriend yet?
Me (desperately trying to find my way out of the convo): Um... no. I've been busy with school.
Mr. A: Well, you know. You're getting old. It's something to consider.
Me: *splashes water on his face*

Haha. Kidding. Okay. That last line didn't happen. I eventually spotted my parents and excused myself from the conversation, more baffled than anything. And a little irritated, I'll admit. Am I really, really that old? In this grad life of ours, are we really at that age where we're already hounded about marriage? Hello, the 19th century called. It wants its life back.

Because. Wow. Way to make a 23-year old feel like a spinster, no? As I stood, listening to Mr. A's rant above, the following thoughts immediately crossed my mind: Mr. A, this should not be happening. Comments implying that something is wrong with a woman if they're not married by their mid-20's should not be happening. And most importantly, belittling someone's pursuit of education in favour of marriage isn't very tactful, bee tee double yew.

I shouldn't be introducing you all to my ten cats and twenty parakeets until I'm at least done law school with a job to throw myself into. (Although, when I do acquire said animals, I promise to upload pictures to this blog. Wink wink). Anyway, sarcasm aside, I'm not an old maid, folks. Please get a grip. At least, by my standards anyway.

After that conversation, I had to take a step back and remind myself that I'm not a minority. That I'm one among many friends who want to finish their education (multiple degrees, if desired), who want to travel, to work abroad, to start their own businesses, to experience life ---- before even considering settling down the way Mr. A implied above.

And, from my perspective anyway, there's nothing wrong with wanting to experience life as a 23-year old without the worries of a family to support and a mortgage pay, right? That's for a few years down the road. Not now. And, if we don't feel led to, if we don't desire to, we shouldn't be in such a hurry. Age shouldn't dictate when we want to "settle down."

Is that really so wrong?

That's my own mantra, anyway.

But, after a few days, and a more stable blood pressure rate later, I have to admit something.

Because, okay. Though the conversation irritated me, I understand where Mr. and Mrs. A were coming from, and I respect what they have to say. And I'm not talking about being a good little Asian girl and respecting my elders' opinions (although there's probably some of that thrown in there, let's be real). I respect that, while their opinions aren't in line with my own, I know many people think differently from me. And I accept that.

Taking a step back from my annoyance, I completely respect what they have to say.

Because, like. On some level, I understand where they're coming from. I know that sounds ridiculous, a little crazy. I'm spewing out all these ideas about choice, and experiencing life, but in other cultures and contexts, I accept that I actually am an old maid.

Because, let me put this into context. Mr. and Mrs. A, along with their teenage children, only arrived to Canada a few months ago. From the Philippines. Where, like he says above, it's true - a number of girls my age already have families, married for several years. I don't think they've been in Canada long enough to absorb or understand how different North American approaches to "settling down" are.

I was talking to Mr. and Mrs. A's 16-year old daughter later that evening, and the following conversation ensued:

Me: Are you excited for high school in Canada?
The A's Daughter: Yes, I am. I really like science.
Me: Oh, do you have an idea of what you'd like to do in university?
The A's Daughter: Yes, I want to be a doctor. To go into medicine.
Me: Oh, I see! That's great!
The A's Daughter (glancing at me significantly): But, Ate Barbara (Filipino endearing term for older sister), unlike you, I want to be married when I'm 24 years old.

Ohh, snap! Daughter taking after Daddy, no? Bless your heart, sweetheart. Thanks for your concern. Oh, and medical school and marriage by the time you're 24 years old? Erm. Speaking on behalf of a number of friends in medical school right now.... well, no comment. Good luck with that. Keep me posted.

I always wondered why Asian families pushed their daughters to be married so early, particularly in the Philippines, China, Korea, Japan, etc. But, the thing is... 20-something isn't early. It can also be considered late. Very late. Getting married at 18 years old isn't uncommon in other parts of the world. And while conversations like the one above may irritate us, we should probably put ourselves in check before we judge. We might think they're way off base - but they're acting on what they think is common sense too, you know?

I don't think my conversation with Mr. and Mrs. A is just an example of different generations clashing, or a random difference in opinion regarding that oh-so-sensitive topic of marriage. I think it's also a clash of cultural expectations. And I don't think such cultural expectations are wrong, per say. Just different from what we're used to. And, growing up in Canada, we might think what they say is wrong, debasing, and even insulting. But they're acting on what they think is common sense. And cultural common sense isn't necessarily wrong, right?

I guess I'm saying - before getting offended by these kinds of comments (and, let's face it, in this grad life, as we continue life as 20-somethings, we're sure to get these kinds of comments as we get older, especially from older crowds who think we should get married ASAP), take a step back and see where these people are coming from.

Don't get offended right away - understand them instead. And politely decline and turn down their hints to "settle down" or, uh, their requests for you to "meet their sons" (*face palm*). There's nothing wrong with saying no, saying you'd rather concentrate on school for now, doing it without irritation.

So, Mr. A., lay off calling me an old maid, and I'll help your daughter buy her MCAT study guides when the time comes, deal?

Life would be so much easier if we just understood each other a little better.

"Accept who you are; and revel in it."
— Mitch Albom (Tuesdays with Morrie)

"We either make ourselves miserable, or we make ourselves strong. The amount of work is the same."
— Carlos Castaneda

"I wouldn't describe myself as lacking in confidence, but I would just say that - the ghosts you chase, you never catch."
— John Malkovich

My Travel & Luggage Paranoia - Packing Packing Packing For NY

2011-05-25T07:46:00.014-04:00

I leave for New York in eight hours.

Hooray.

Nothing says I'm-so-relieved-get-me-away-from-this-thesis like a vacation. And the grad life needs a vacation once in awhile, no?

Esther, Lenita, Mishal, and I are taking a Porter flight to New York in the early hours of the morning, and will be spending the next four days frolicking under the New York sun. And, this time, contrary to our last trip to New York two years ago, we'll be staying at a hotel right in the middle of Manhattan, so this maximizes the opportunity for blog-worthy adventures, no? Marriott for the win.

I will definitely be blogging about this trip when I get back.

It goes without saying, of course, that I'm excited. However, as usual, because I'm a travel worrywart, I'm also a bit nervous. And not for the reasons you'd think.

Because, you see, I have a certain travel phobia.

Apart from my usual phobias (i.e. you know, failing at life, or failing law school, or tripping in front of crowds of people because I can't walk in heels), I have a weird, OCD-like tendency to think that my airline will lose my luggage.

Am I the only one who gets paranoid about this?!? I can't even explain the meltdown that would ensue if I ever lost my luggage. Meltdown to the nth degree, particularly if, for any reason, I lost my sanity and left my Kate Spade purse in my luggage.

I always worry, what with all the stories about airlines putting the wrong tags on luggage, and having your possessions end up in, I don't know, Australia or something. And inevitably, lost luggage has the ability to cause unwanted stress - something you don't want during a vacation.

Last year, when my friends and I went to Europe for a couple of weeks, I remember stuffing my carry-on backpack with all the clothes, shoes, and toiletries I needed because I was so paranoid that Air Transat would somehow lose my luggage.

Plus, there was that fear of potentially not having anything to wear in Paris. So I lugged half my wardrobe onto the plane. Oh, my. I would have had a meltdown if any of that got lost, I'm telling you. There's just something about not having things planned out, right down to every last detail, that gives me a bit of a nightmare.

I know I have nothing to worry about. My flight to New York only lasts two hours, and Porter has a great reputation for being reliable.

But, still. I worry.

Which is why I've decided to take certain precautions.

Fr example, I've attached three luggage tags to my suitcase, detailing the exact location of our hotel, emergency numbers, flight information, etc. I made photocopies of our itineraries, identification tags, triple checked the contact information of our hotel on my suitcase. Plus, I've included a travel itinerary inside the suitcase. I just thought I'd throw that in there. It never hurts to be prepared, no? Anyway, that's my tip for the day. Be prepared. For anything. A travel tip from your neighbourhood worrywart. Precaution, precaution, precaution.

But, anyway. Enough with the worrying. Enough with my paranoia. I need to stop being such a worrywart about, well, everything. I go through this everytime I travel, and it's second nature now. Bad habits, Barb. *slaps wrist*

So instead, I'll focus on sending positive vibes to my luggage.

Please pull through, Porter Airlines!

Because I'm going to New York in T MINUS eight hours!!! WOOOOOOOOOO.

The packing is done, everything's set. I'm leaving for New York in a few hours! Exciting! The Museum of Modern Art, the MET, Guggenheim, Museum of Natural History, Central Park, 5th Avenue, Broadway, SoHo, New York University, Times Square, Little Italy, Wall Street... Big Apple, here we go!

I'M SO EXCITED! :)

“The World is a book, and those who do not travel read only a page.”
- Saint Augustine

“Perhaps travel cannot prevent bigotry, but by demonstrating that all peoples cry, laugh, eat, worry, and die, it can introduce the idea that if we try and understand each other, we may even become friends.”
- Maya Angelou

“We must go beyond textbooks, go out into the bypaths and untrodden depths of the wilderness and travel and explore and tell the world the glories of our journey.”
- John Hope Franklin

Why Asian Sons Live (Keep Living) At Home - Why The Hate?!

2011-05-19T00:56:00.026-04:00

I don't know why I keep blogging about Asian people. It just worked out that way, I guess. Last post about Asian people for awhile, I promise. *peace sign*

Okay, so, let me tell you about something that bothers me.

And bear with me here.

About a year ago, I was hanging out at a friend's house. No big deal. I think we were having a Games Night of some sort. But, anyway. It was an evening where I was hanging out with some of my friend's friends, who were a bit older than me. Most of these individuals were in their mid/late twenties. I think the oldest guy there was about 28. Which, whatever. I didn't mind. They were cool people. And it was a fun night.

But, ever meet certain people who just rub you the wrong way? I was chatting with one of the guys sitting near me, and he was telling me about how he had just bought his own place. A condo downtown, you know? Awesome. It's always nice to hear people getting places downtown.

But, this is when I started getting annoyed. Aside from the fact that I already privately thought he was a cocky, self-indulgent narcissist, he leaned over and started talking about a mutual friend of ours. In the absolute worst way possible.

Our mutual friend is in his late 20s. He's a really nice guy. He`s Chinese. A little quiet. But really cool. He works downtown, plays sports, into video games. The usual. But, you see. Here's the thing. Mutual Friend still lives at home with his parents.

So Cocky Narcissist (hereafter known as CN) leans over and says, "What is it about Asian men living at home even when they're older? The guy is 27 years old. Why doesn't he move out? I always notice this with my Asian friends, I don't understand it. That's weird, man. And kind of gross."

I had to resist the urge to lean over and smack him.

Here`s another story. I have another friend in his late 20s. Pretty cool guy. I`ve known him for years. Our families are friends. He`s Filipino. Etcetera. He works downtown, plays sports. He`s into boxing, video games. The usual. But, again. Here`s the thing. Friend lives at home with his parents. And has no plans on moving out.

Except, he`s been getting tremendous flak from the guys at work. Apparently, it`s "weird" that he doesn`t have his own place now that he`s older. Why aren`t you moving out already? You`re 28 years old, why don`t you live on your own? Why do Asian men tend to live at home longer than they're quote on quote "supposed to"?

By all means, I know this "living at home" business isn`t a racial thing. I know this can be an issue with non-Asian 20-somethings in general, men or women. But, for the sake of specificities, cultural implications, and focus for this blog post, I`ll deal with Asian men for now. And, mostly for the sake of dealing with the comments of the above mentioned CN, I`ll deal with Asian men for now.

In this grad life of ours, as we grow up, and many of us move away from home, I notice that we tend to pass (often negative) judgement on those who still live with their parents. Unemployed? Lazy? Gluttons who mooch off their parents? You know it crossed your mind. And I find that this sort of judgement is, at times, harsher on men.

But, see, sometimes actual reality is far from that judgement.

Let me clarify and explore a few issues here.

First, I'm not surprised (though nevertheless annoyed) that people make this a gender issue. Why zero in on men? If a 28 year old woman still lives with her parents, would it still be this much of an issue? The individuals I mentioned above don't seem to be harassing women in their late 20s about moving out, why are men being pressured to move out instead? Particularly by their friends? Is it some kind of "man thing" to have your own condo by the time you're 28 years old?

Oh, god. Please. Spare me the gender specific responsibilities. I already get enough flak from people who think I shouldn't go to law school because I'm a girl.

Second, and more pertinent to what I want to focus on today, I was initially surprised (or maybe not?) that people make this a cultural issue. Like I said above, isn't the move-out-you're-getting-old issue pertinent to any 20-something, regardless of cultural background? Yet, I've started to notice that people tend to assume that Asians are more likely to live at home in their later 20s than their non-Asian counterparts. Is there some truth to this?

And, in response to CN's comments above, are Asian men more likely to live at home in their late 20s (versus non-Asian male counterparts)? And if so, why?

Well, let's try to answer that.

Because, well, it`s funny. I find it ironic that my friend described above gets flak from his coworkers about moving out, yet doesn't hear a word of it from his parents. You`d think it would be the other way around, no? That his parents would kick him out because he's older, self-sufficient, and therefore ready to move out? Yet, from what I`ve witnessed with my own friends and family (and, uh, I have a lot of Asian friends), Asian parents don`t tend to mind if their 20-something son still lives at home with them. Even when they've reached their 30s.

In response to CN's comments above....

The truth is, Mom and Dad don't mind if he stays home. He may have a job, a steady income, and with the capacity to move out - but, he wants to live at home. And he most likely will for another little while, until he finds a reason to move out (i.e. job location, school, or perhaps just an urge for independence). Of course, if their son wants to move out, his parents wouldn't stop him. But, in general, I don`t think I`ve heard a story where Asian parents harass their sons to move out simply because of his age or because he has a steady income.

I have a 30 year old friend. Asian. Male. Still living with his parents. Perhaps even until he gets married. And both parties are completely content with the arrangement.

Some people find that disgusting. Or disturbing. I find it normal. His friends, of course, make fun of him mercilessly for living with his parents when he's clearly an adult. He makes good money. He has a steady job. So why doesn't he move out, you know?

We tend to assume that people live at home with their parents because they have no other choice. That they don't have the income to move out, that they just don't have the ability (yet) to independently buy their own property. That they would rather live elsewhere than home. (And sure, in many cases, this could totally be the reason why they stay at home). But the thing is, others who have the ability to be self-sustaining have a choice. And sometimes, they choose to live with their parents. Because they want to.

Can't you be independent and live with your parents? Can't you have a job, pay for your meals, pay for your clothing (or whatever independence entails) and stick close to your family?

Is that such a foreign concept?

I hesitate to make this a cultural thing. But I kind of, sort of, will. I think the pressure to move out for 20-something Asians is lower in Asian families, simply because of the huge emphasis placed on collectivity and family. To put it bluntly, culturally, I've noticed that many Asian parents see their children living with them until marriage (and even beyond that). Of course, if their kids want to move out, they wouldn`t stop them. If their son or daughter wants to move downtown for work purposes, or for other reasons, they wouldn't stop them. But, until their children make that choice, or until it's absolutely necessary, Asian parents quite rarely kick their children out of the house simply because the closeness of family will always come first. We've heard enough about Confucianism.

In response to CN's comments....

I don't think our mutual friend is weird at all. Sure, he has a steady job. Sure, he could move out if he wanted to. But he doesn't because his family is closer than you know. Because he loves his sisters and wants to watch them grow up. Because he would rather stick around and live with the comfort of his parents. He'll move out when he wants to, got that?

Reader, does this sound weird to you? From what I`ve witnessed growing up, it`s completely normal to see Asian men and women in their late 20s still living with their parents at home until the day they get married or move in with a significant other. It wasn`t until people started pointing out its "weirdness" that I started thinking about the cultural implications of all this. I've stressed enough times on this blog how important and emphasized family values are to Asian families. On keeping the family together.

So, why the hate and ridicule placed on Asian men (or, I guess, to a lesser extent, women) who live at home? If they choose to do so, is it really our place to pass negative judgement? It irritates me, it really does.

Third, on the practical level, on the whole, living at home is the cheaper, no? So, why the hate on living at home when you're older? If it saves money, cut these guys some slack, yea?

So the next time you encounter a friend (or, anyone, really) living at home - think twice before you judge them as lazy, good-for-nothing, unemployed sloths. There may be other reasons why they live with their parents. To some people, family is more important than you know.

But, anyway, I guess that`s my semi-defense of 20-something Asian men still living at home. I understand you, friends. I really do!

"I don't care how poor a man is; if he has family, he's rich."
- Dan Wilcox and Thad Mumford, "Identity Crisis," M*A*S*H

"Our most basic instinct is not for survival, but for family. Most of us would give our own life for the survival of a family member, yet we lead our daily life too often as if we take our family for granted."
- Paul Pearshall

"The great gift of family life is to be intimately acquainted with people you might never even introduce yourself to, had life not done it for you."
- Kendall Hailey, The Day I Became an Autodidact

"Why Asian Mothers Are Superior" & Why I Love My Asian Mother - Reflections on Amy Chua

2011-05-18T18:54:00.033-04:00

Awhile back, I blogged about Asian parenting and my momentary exasperation with the Asian community's emphasis on image in order to be perceived as successful.

Honestly, this was one of the few aspects that used to annoy me about the Filipino community. I've grown up watching my parents' friends perpetually talk up their children to make sure their children looked successful. Back then, to me, it looked like the success, beauty, and ability of their children was validation of their worth as a parent. And I was sorely annoyed.

Image and success. It seemed to be everything.

And so, for their children, there was pressure to, basically, look and be perfect. You're always consciously aware of what people think about you: from the clothes you're wearing, to the type of designer purse (or lack thereof) slung over your shoulder, to where you are at in school, what career path you're taking, how your hair is styled, how you bow and shake hands with elders, etc. You exemplify how your parents have raised you.

Everything I'm describing sounds enormously superficial. And I admit, to an outsider, it really does. Why do you think knock-off Gucci purses are all the rage in Hong Kong? Why do you think Japan and Korea have the highest rates of plastic surgery in the world?

Because success and perfection. It seems to be everything.

But, as I grew up, I realized the true motivations behind the behaviour of this particular community.

To someone who hasn't grown up in this community, the strict parenting I'm about to describe sounds ridiculous and out of hand. But, you know. There's more to the Asian community than what meets the eye. And, while I complain about it sometimes, if you dig a little deeper, you learn something about why the community functions the way it does and why Asians parent the way they do.

So. Ever wondered why this community functions the way it does?

Image and success. It seems to be everything. But, why?

Here's the thing. I'm glad I was brought up the way I was. This is the world, the community I've grown up in. And, personally, I'm used to it. I'm accustomed to the rhythm and routine of social functions in the Asian community.

But, let me ask you a question. Have you ever wondered why the Asian community places so much emphasis on perfection? Ever wondered why Asian parents emphasize so greatly the value and concept of success?

Confucian values aside, I think Asian parents act the way they do because they know their kids can be the best if they tried their hardest to be the best. Emphasis on Try and the value of Hard Work. And they'll push them to perfection because they know they're capable of it.

Wait. Disclaimer. I'm not saying that Asians are ethnically superior because they're the only race that can be perfect. God, no. Don't misinterpret me.

I think the MacLean's article published a couple of months back speaks volumes. Where complaints were being lodged that the University of Toronto was "TOO ASIAN." CLICK HERE to read the article. Trust me, I know all about how UofT is too Asian. Ever been to Sidney Smith Hall? These Asians. They're everywhere.

I know the value of strict Asian parenting. I know it, because I've lived it. I've grown up with parents who didn't accept anything less than an A on a report card. Who put me in piano lessons when I was six years old. Who put me in ballet lessons when I was eight years old. Who made me practice multiplication tables, cursive writing, when I was in kindergarten. Who gave me extra homework assignments. Who made me practice said piano and ballet, even when I wanted to quit.

They knew I could do it. And so, they pushed me to do so. And, quite frankly, I'm glad they did. I was taught that I needed to try. That I needed to work hard. I was taught that I shouldn't be lazy. And, honestly? I'm so glad they did. I wouldn't be where I am today if I wasn't pushed the way I was.

Strict Asian parenting is a strange concept for individuals who didn't grow up in this community. But, let me tell you. There's method behind that perceived madness. Asian parents instill their love for their children by pushing them to work hard - because wishing and hoping for their success is a reflection of the hope and unconditional love they have for their children.

Pushing for success. It's a reflection of love. Ever think of it that way? That success is something parents want for you because they know you're capable of it?

So, are you yelling at me yet? People who haven't experienced this are going to freak out. I know it. I know what's been said behind my back. That I work too much. That I go to the library too much. Complaining that I shouldn't get ahead with my readings or my work. Encouraging me to skip class. Oh, really? Frankly, I don't care what you say about me behind my back. Because, sorry. I couldn't hear you over my law school acceptance letters.

I said above that image is everything. And it is. For a community that knows they can attain the best, that image of success and perfection, if the values of hard work and trying are exercised, if you try your best to pursue it.

This is a reflection of how I perceive the Asian community I've witnessed and grown up with. Others may have different perceptions, but these are mine.

Which brings me to a brief reflection on Amy Chua's article "Why Asian Mothers Are Superior." To read the famed article that stirred parenting wars all over the world, CLICK HERE. Honestly, I think the sexist and racial attacks on Chua are ridiculous. Yet, the scathing attacks on the motivations behind her strict parenting is something I disagree with even more.

So, here's the thing. I love Amy Chua. And, this article? If you're about to yell at me about how ridiculous it is, I have a few words for you: READ HER WHOLE BOOK. This article is merely an excerpt from her parenting memoir Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother. She depicts her failures as a parent and, most importantly, the need to instill Asian values in the education system today.

Personally, I wholeheartedly agree. To read her op-ed on US education today, CLICK HERE.

Amy Chua has been criticized worldwide for her strict parenting methods. She's received death threats. She's received numerous hateful comments and emails telling her what a horrible parent she's been. Commentators have decided her children are mindless robots, that they'll grown up psychologically impaired. That they aren't normal because they grew up this way.

Um. Okay. Almost 90% of people I've talked to about this article have admitted that they grew up in a similar environment.

Is an environment with high expectations so evil? For some people, it is.

Parenting touches a nerve for a lot of people. Especially crazy moms who think their way to parent is the only way to parent. Or for people who grew up in a different environment and think strict parenting is for nutjobs. (See: attacks on Amy Chua).

I'm not saying everything Chua did was right. I'm not saying the specific tactics she exercised should be followed to a T. I'm saying that I understand the motivations behind her actions. I understand why she parented the way she did.

Like Chua's own children, I'm glad I was given high expectations by parents very similar to Chua. Because I was taught that I could reach them if I put in the hard work to do so.

And this is why I love my own Asian mother.

When I was seven years old, crying that I hated playing the piano, yelling that I hated memorizing piano music because it was freakin boring, my mother made my practice piano for an hour everyday so I could memorize those classic pieces. Some people call rote learning ineffective. Others call it child abuse. But, to me? It worked. And I'll forever be grateful for being pushed to memorize piano music that I truly did love but was too lazy to practice if I hadn't been pushed to. I would have regretted not knowing how to play it, knowing I had the chance to.

And this is why I love my own Asian mother.

Two years ago, my mom took a day off work from her busy schedule and took the subway with me down to the University of Toronto campus. It was the day I was writing the LSAT. The test that would determine whether I was going to law school. Prior to signing up for the LSAT, I didn't want to take it. I dragged my feet for a year. But, my mother. She knew I could do it if I tried hard enough. And on that day, my mother. She sat at a nearby coffee shop for four hours while I wrote my test, waiting for me, giving me the support I needed when I walked out of the test room. She knew I could do it, even when I didn't believe in myself.

And this is why I love my own Asian mother.

When I was younger, I took a ballet test and failed miserably on my first try. I was eight years old. After failing, I wanted to quit ballet. My ballet teacher told me I had terrible posture and needed to fix it. I was humiliated, and I wanted to run away. I begged my mom to let me quit. But, my mother. She firmly told me to finish what I started. That I needed to do my best, because she knew I could be the best if I really tried. And a week later, I trudged back to ballet school, re-took the test, and months later, eventually fixed my posture. She wouldn't let me quit. And I'm glad she did that. Without my mother, I wouldn't have fallen in love with ballet.

I could go on, but I won't. This post is getting way too long.

Say what you want about strict Asian parenting. But, for me. It's a community I will fiercely defend and protect no matter the criticisms. Because it's pushed me to be what I am today. And I will forever be grateful for it.

"All the so-called "secrets of success" will not work unless you do."
- Author Unknown

"I'm a great believer in luck, and I find the harder I work, the more I have of it."
- Thomas Jefferson

Yes, I'm Alive & Writing this MRP - Is Grad School Over Yet?

2011-05-16T20:49:00.015-04:00

I was camped out here for most of last week. My study/research/MRP writing spot by Lake Ontario when the weather was cooperating. Now you see why I get distracted?
I haven't been blogging much lately, friends. Sorry about that. Because, well, as per the explanation on one of my recent posts, I've been trying to write the last thing keeping me from this Masters degree: my MRP.

This is just an update to let all of you know that I haven't dropped off the face of the earth. Well, yet, anyway. And that I'll return your calls, messages, etc., once I sort out my life a.k.a. my MRP. And that a regular blogging schedule will resume once a draft of this MRP is completed about two weeks from now. But, erm, my progress? Let's just say that it's going slowly. Very slowly. And, I'm starting to panic, given that I have about two and a half weeks until my first draft is due. Cue panic, shortness of breath, etcetera.

Also, I'll be in New York for four days next weekend. I'm assuming I'll be editing my draft on our flight there. Great. Now that's what I call a vacation.

But, I'll stop complaining. I'll survive. Thankfully, one of my case studies is a country I know inside and out: the one I was born and raised in. So, hopefully, the next couple of weeks won't be too much of a nightmare.

However, if there are two things writing this MRP has taught me (well, grad school in general has taught me), its the following:

ONE. We need to maintain some sort of balance. For the sake of our social lives and our sanity. Writing this MRP is important. But, you know, it's still kind of important to also have some sort of, well, life. My friend Diana pointed out on a Facebook comment earlier that, uh, our lives have pretty much revolved around this MRP. She's right. I'm pretty guilty of eating, sleeping, and breathing campaign finance reform.

It wasn't until I actually got some fresh air today that I realized how cooped up I've been the last couple of weeks. Erm. Not. Healthy. I didn't step outside my house all weekend (partly due to the rain, partly due to camping out in my room writing my MRP). And it wasn't until I went for sushi lunch and shopping with Belinda and Janice today that I, well, realized how long I went without face to face contact with other breathing human beings.

Fail on my part.

I come back to Toronto on Thursday, and I can't wait to do something about this non-existent social life of mine. And I promise you, friends, I won't bring a book with me when we roam downtown and go out on Saturday. I'm so excited for this weekend! Thank god I have most of my MRP somewhat written. Now I can finally sort of relax.

Balance. Your work and your life. It's key. To your health and your sanity.

It's okay to tear yourself away from your laptop, you know.

TWO. I've also learned that I perpetually need some sort of structure and schedule to my life. Otherwise, I'll procrastinate my life away like you wouldn't believe. And, basically, screw myself over until I realize my deadline is coming up.

It's been about four weeks since classes have ended. Meaning, like, we're pretty much not doing anything in Kingston other than writing our MRP. How we spend our time is our own responsibility. There are no schedules, very few meetings. Your time is your own time. And you choose what you do with it.

This is dangerous for me, friends. I have no discipline when structure isn't involved. Because then, I get dangerously close to procrastination territory. Am I the only one with this problem? I feel like all of you have much more discipline than I. I came back to Kingston last week and found a fellow MA in his office telling me he had written 50 pages of his MRP already. And he doesn't have to be done until August. Oh, boy.

This whole "independent work" thing is great and all, but I need to make sure some sort of structure is involved so I don't procrastinate enough that I end up pulling an all nighter everyday for a week. Thankfully, I wrote out an MRP schedule at the beginning of May to make sure I don't fall off track.

I'm pretty sure that Excel spreadsheet with my MRP research and writing schedule saved my life. I have it taped to the walls of my room to remind myself not to spend my day watching episodes of How I Met Your Mother.

Because, you know, I'm tempted. I'm always tempted. Structure and schedule. Grad school has taught me that I always need it.

Anyway, that's all for now. Grad school lessons for the day.

I head back to Toronto for two weeks on Thursday, it should be a great time at home! Cross your fingers I get my work done in time! I'm currently alive, my friends. And I hope I get through this MRP writing situation in one piece.

P.S. Thank you to all of you who responded to my previous post regarding information on campaign finance in the United States! I appreciated all your emails and messages, I found all of your suggestions incredibly helpful! Good luck on your MRPs, everyone!

“Every accomplishment starts with the decision to try.”

“You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else.”
- Albert Einstein

“Little by little one walks far.”
- Peruvian Proverb

Your Girlfriend, Your Boyfriend, & Your Friends - Finding The Balance In Relationships

2011-05-15T19:26:00.022-04:00

As we approach life in our mid-20s, I'm sure we've all noticed that we live in a world where our friends are starting to get engaged, or are settling into relationships they expect will last their lifetimes (clearly, we aren't 18 years old anymore).

I turn 24 years old in a month, and I've sure as heck noticed the engagement phenomenon. And the "coupling-up" phenomenon. You know, when the "I" turns into a "we" and you show up at every social event together. I get it. We're at an age where people are starting to realize that, university has ended (well, for most of us, anyway. Boo to me), we've settled into the working world, we've grown up, we're adults, and that, for some us, come a few years, we'll be settling down and starting families of our own.

Erm. Side note. I can't believe I turn 24 in a month. But, moving on.

Anyway, I understand that people are "looking." Lavalife doesn't make all that money for nothing. And I understand that, once people find someone they actually really, really like, they'll want to spend all their time with them. Spending all your time on the phone, texting each other at work, making weekend plans. I get it. And, I'm happy for you. There's nothing I love more than seeing my friends find a significant other they truly, truly care about.

But, let me share a story with you, my friends. A story that, I'm sure, many reading this can relate to.

This is a true story of a friend of a friend of a friend. Generic enough that, really, it could be about anyone. This is a story of a group of friends who have known each other for years. Since high school, in fact. A close group of friends, you know? The kind you'll know for the rest of your life, the kind who have lived your most embarrassing moments with you. But, you see, one day, things changed. Because, one day, one of these friends met a girl. A girl he grew to know and love. And as he began a relationship with said girl, he stopped seeing his closest friends. He stopped taking their calls, stopped answering their text messages. He just stopped. Cut off everything. And, it wasn't even on purpose, really. He just wanted to spend all his time with his girlfriend, you know? Said friends tried all they could to contact him, to get to know his new girlfriend. But, this friend. He stopped hanging out with them, stopped attending social events, dinners, lunches. He spent all his time with said girl and her friends that, two years later, upon his break-up with said girl, he picked up his phone and realized that... he had no one to call. He had grown apart from his closest friends, he had estranged himself so much for the sake of a relationship that eventually ended.

And so, here's another true story. Of a friend of a friend of a friend, of course. A story of a group of close girlfriends. They've known each other for years, you know. The kind of girlfriends who have known you long enough that they attended those horrid middle school dances with you. And yet, one day, things changed towards the end of their university careers. One of these girls met a boy. And, like all these stories go, she grew to know him, and to love him. And, just like the boy in the story above, she grew distant from her closest girlfriends. Spending everyday with said boyfriend. She stopped hanging out with her girlfriends, stopped taking their calls. She spent all her time with him and his friends. It wasn't on purpose, really. She was just so consumed and invested in her relationship that she just, I guess, forgot about her friends. And, upon their break-up three years later, she picked up the phone and realized that... she had no one to call. She had ignored her friends for the sake of a relationship that eventually ended.

Friends, I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried. I've heard these stories time and time again. That a friend spends wayyyy too much time with his girlfriend or her boyfriend. That a friend never comes to parties anymore because he/she is hanging out with his/her significant other instead. They don't come to dinners, lunches, annual camping trips. I have friends who have pushed their friends away to the point that they basically become strangers. Everything you are, everything you do is about your significant other. Nothing else.

Everything is a "we." The individuality is gone. And the closest, most treasured friendships grow distant and eventually fall apart because these individuals are so consumed in their relationships with their significant other.

Basically, there's no balance.

Now, I'm not disapproving of having a significant other. God, no. Please don't misunderstand. I'm not sitting here as a spinster grad student (god, I hope not, anyway) disapproving of young love. (Although I do have the granny glasses to pull it off!)

What I'm saying is, simply put. Don't forget about your friends.

The thing is, I completely understand where the two people in the stories above are coming from. I completely understand what it's like to be in a relationship with someone you care about. That your schedules revolve around each other, that you talk on the phone everyday, that you text each other while you're at work. I understand that. And that's normal, of course. And for those of you who have found this relationship, I'm sincerely happy for you.

But, life is complicated. And finding that perfect balance between spending time with your girlfriend/boyfriend and your friends can be difficult. And it's especially difficult when you and your significant other have separate groups of friends. Who don't know each other. Who don't hang out together.

I have no answers for you. Just plain, old, vague advice. Find that balance in your relationships. You can have your dates and hang out with your friends too, you know? Introduce your significant other to your friends. Hang out together. Party together. Have dinners, lunches, snacks, outings, together.

Because, you see, while you've found a girl or a boy you think you may want to spend the rest of your life with, there's something you may forget. That, if handled with care, you'll be spending the rest of your life with your friends too.

Don't carelessly forget about them. Don't let them become strangers.

I've seen too many friendships fall apart because of the above reasons. And, as we grow older, and it becomes increasingly difficult to make new friends in these busy lives we lead, treasuring the ones we have is essential.

These are the people who want to get to know your significant other. These are the people who you'll call to excitedly tell about promotions at work. Who want to be there when big changes in your life occur. These are the people you'll call when (if you choose) you get engaged. When you move into your first home. These are the people you'll call on those Christmases down the road, who you'll hang out with on New Years Eves in the future. These are the people you've grown up with, and, perhaps, you'll grow old with.

We've lived a sufficient amount of 20-ish years where we can say that many people have walked in and out of our lives, drifting in and drifting out. But, we have close groups of friends that haven't walked out.

And, if these friendships handled with care, perhaps they never will.

Find that balance. It's more important than we realize.

"If there is ever a tomorrow when we are not together, there is something you must always remember: you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think, but most important of all, even if we are apart, I'll always be with you."
- Christopher Robin to Pooh

"I have friends in overalls whose friendships I would not swap for the favor of the kings of the world."
- Thomas A. Edison

“Keep away from those who try to belittle your ambitions. Small people always do that, but the really great make you believe that you too can become great.”
- Mark Twain

Journey To Vietnam - A Friend's Summer With TeachOverseas

2011-05-09T18:19:00.007-04:00

When I was eleven years old, my parents and I moved to Mississauga. And, being a shy, socially awkward pre-teen, I was beyond nervous about starting Grade 6 at a brand new school where I knew absolutely no one.

But, I didn't need to worry. On my first day of school, I sat by myself at the corner of the gym to eat lunch with one of my (many) current books, too shy to make any new friends. Yet, as I unwrapped my sandwich and cracked open my book, I looked up and saw a girl approach me.

She sat beside me, gave me a friendly smile, and cheerfully told me her name was Liz. She asked if she could have lunch with me, and over that hour, I made my first friend in middle school. I found out that she also loved to read, loved horses, horseback riding. We also loved the same TV shows. I was so relieved I made a friend that day.

Liz eventually became one of my best friends in middle school. And we went on to go to high school together, went through the IBT program together, taking many of the same classes in high school. We agonized over Grade 9 math together, spent a memorable year in Grade 11 Law, and even got ready for prom together with all our friends in our last year of high school.

Liz and I also went on to be university roommates in our first year at UofT, in our beloved Margaret Addison Hall (Vic College, we miss you!), and spent the next four years tearing our hair out, trying to get through university in one piece.

She has been a wonderful friend in the thirteen years I've known her. And, this summer, she's embarking on a trip to Vietnam, from June to August, with the TeachOverseas program.

To learn more about her trip, follow her blog by CLICKING HERE.

A brief summary of her trip from Liz herself:

"This summer (June 19 – August 3) I will be going with a group of 6 other teachers to Vietnam to work with Vietnamese students of all ages teaching conversational English. I will be going through a Christian organization called TeachOverseas (teachoverseas.org). The goal of this trip is not only to teach conversational English, which is a much needed and sought after skill to Vietnamese students of all ages, but also to develop friendships with these students and hopefully to be able to share the gospel with them through those friendships." - Excerpt from Journey To Vietnam

Liz is currently looking for supporters for this trip, and I encourage all of you to check out her website! She'll be spending about three months in Vietnam, putting those skills she's learned in teacher's college to the test, and building friendships with students who are lucky to have her as a teacher. Furthermore, she is also currently accepting donations to fund this trip abroad, so please click on the link above to learn about her trip and to help out, if you can :)

Have an amazing trip, friend!

"A good friend knows all your best stories, a best friend has lived them with you."

To A Wonderful Mom - Happy Mothers Day!

2011-05-07T13:21:00.011-04:00

Dear Mom,

I know you read my blog.

And so, here I am, hoping you will be pleasantly surprised to read a blog post dedicated just for you. Because, I'm here to wish you and to thank you for everything you've done for me. And for every mother reading this post, I hope you've all been having a wonderful, memorable Mother's Day.

And, to make sure I can head off and make this Mother's Day especially memorable, I'll try to make this blog post brief.

I know it isn't said enough, but, I'd like to say thank you. For being the mother you are, and the mother I know. For teaching me that love is both feeling and action. That love can be unconditional, sincere, timeless.

Thanks for always knowing what was best for me. And for your support, for patience, encouragement, and love.

Like, for instance. Thanks for teaching me how to write in perfect cursive writing when I was six years old. No, really. I'm seriously thankful for this. I have you to thank for my legible handwriting growing up - cursive or otherwise. And, thanks for teaching and drilling me with multiplication tables when I was just in kindergarten. And had me memorize them for a week. Because, seriously, the prep you always gave me at home helped me out with those painful math classes I hated in school.

And, thanks for always attending my school plays. And always giving a standing ovation even though I only had, like, one line. And for clapping enthusiastically even when I screwed that one line up. See: Grade 3 play where I was a pirate and cried on stage.

And, thanks for always attending my ballet classes, recitals, and tests. And thanks for hugging me and buying me ice cream when my ballet teacher reprimanded me for having "zombie arms" during practice runs of my grand jeté. I was so sad, remember? So, thanks for sitting patiently when I obsessively walked around the house with a book balanced on my head for a week, trying to correct that ballet posture. And for not flipping out when I kept asking (every hour, no less), "Is my posture better yet? Is it? Well, is it??"

Mom, you were so very patient with my random "projects." I was a strange child, clearly. Yet you were never fazed.

And, thanks for not flipping out when I quit piano the year I turned thirteen. Thanks for understanding me through my awkward, I-hate-everything-especially-piano-lessons phase.

Thank you for all the sports lessons, piano lessons, dance lessons, and all the lessons in between. They've all been valuable to me.

And, by the way, I've never mentioned this but, thanks for always teaching me from an early age what to wear, how to wear it, the designers to follow, and the ones not worth checking out. And for teaching me how to shop and for showing me what style is. Because you epitomize it.

And, thanks for staying up all night watching me on Christmas Eve when I was eight years old, sick with the stomach flu. I'm sorry I ruined Christmas for you! Thank you for always taking care of me.

Thanks for always helping me with my homework growing up. And for staying up till midnight all those nights I had a Calculus test, helping me prepare, even though you had early patients the next day.

Thanks for always feeding me the best food ever. And for cooking the best food ever.

And, about law school...

Thanks for teaching me the value of school and of my education. And the value of persistence. And for hugging me when I thought I could never get into law school. And for always believing that I would.

Thanks for setting aside a day in your busy schedule to wait for me at a coffee shop near UofT the day I wrote my LSAT. And for sitting there patiently, for four hours, doing work, as I wrote that dreaded test that would get me into law school. And for promptly encouraging me when I thought I didn't do well, taking me out to lunch to calm my worries.

Thank you for never doubting I'd get into law school. Even when I thought I had no chance.

I could go on and on about all the things I'm thankful for, but I'll stop here. This post is getting too long.

So, most of all, thank you for being a wonderful mother, a wonderful friend. Growing up, you have given me more than I've ever thanked you for. And, I promise, that I will spend the rest of my life thanking you and showing you how much I've appreciated your lifetime of unconditional patience, support. And love.

Happy Mother's Day to all the mothers reading this today!

Love,

Me

"A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie."
- Tenneva Jordan

"I remember my mother's prayers and they have always followed me. They have clung to me all my life."
- Abraham Lincoln

"Whatever else is unsure in this stinking dunghill of a world, a mother's love is not."
- James Joyce

ECONOMICS 101 - Getting Started??

2011-05-04T22:38:00.006-04:00

It has come to my attention that I should probably learn the basics of economics (the terminology, the literature, etc). The last time I took an Economics course was in first year at UofT. ECO100, Introduction to Economics, anyone remember that? Clearly, I don't. I don't remember a single thing I learned in that course. Hey, it's been five years. I want to brush up on this!

However, it appears that I sold off my first year Economics textook (I'm not surprised). And, really, I'm not quite sure how to get started on this venture. I don't have time to take an actual course, so learning the basics will probably be something I'd read up on over the summer before law school (with, perhaps, friends who majored in Economics to help out, cough cough).

So, dear readers, if anyone reading this post can answer the following questions to help me with my dilemma, you will be my new best friend. And will be rewarded in lieu of cupcakes.

First, if anyone reading this went to UofT, took ECO100, and is willing to sell me their first-year Intoduction to Economics textbook, please, please, please let me know. I remember really enjoying that textbook (it was really easy to read and understand, moreso than other textbooks I've had). I'd really like to get my hands on it again. Curse my stupidity for selling it at the end of first year.

Second, if anyone reading this went to UofT, took ECO100, and still has notes from said course, would you pretty please let me borrow them?

Clearly, I'm trying to re-create ECO100 for myself all over again.

Third, and most importantly, if anyone knows of any online tutorials and links, that can serve as easy-to-follow (this is important!) comprehensive online guides to learning intoductory economics, please send them over!

So, please send me a Facebook message or an email if you have any information for the above three requests. I appreciate it, friends!

Whatever Happened To Roald Dahl?! - Remembering Books From Our Childhood

2011-05-04T20:56:00.007-04:00

Does anyone remember this book? Please say you do. Or at least this one? And, surely, you remember this one too, right?

Someone, please tell me you loved Roald Dahl as much as I did. I still remember sitting on the class carpet in Grade 5, listening in fascination as my teacher read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory out to us. Like, really, was he going to get that golden ticket or WHAT? And, who was that chick who kept chewing the same piece of gum all the time? I remember being so grossed out but fascinated at the same time. It was an awesome story, no?

So, a few months ago, while catching up on Skype with a friend in teacher's college at the University of Ottawa, she started complaining about how unfamiliar the children's book section is to her at all the elementary schools she had her placements at. Apparently, she and a number of teacher candidates found that a lot of the books we loved as children can't be found in many of today's elementary school libraries. At all. None of the following could be found in some elementary school libraries.

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? No.

James and the Giant Peach? Nope.

The Giver? Nope. (By Lois Lowry, remember this one??)

Tuck Everlasting? Nope.

Matilda? Nope.

The Velvteen Rabbit? Nope.

A Wrinkle in Time? Nope. (By Madeline L'Engle, remember?)

Charlotte's Web? NOPE.

The Secret Garden? NOPE. I KNOW. Travesty.

The Hobbit? NO!!!

I know these books are hardly classics. And, of course, we all have different books and genres that we remember fondly, but the fact that copies of the above books are non-existent in some of today's elementary schools actually makes me really sad.

Because, you know what can be found in their libraries instead?

Apparently, there are copies upon copies of Twilight.

The entire series.

Now, I don't mean to bring on the wrath of Twihards (in fact, I call many Twihards my friends), I just want to lament the decline of 90's children's and teen fiction in today's libraries. I'm actually quite sad that the chances of a child reading The Giver is less today than they were ten years ago. They aren't life-changing, thought-provoking, classic literature, but they were books I really enjoyed when I was younger. And the fact that some kids these days won't get the chance to discover these awesome books, these unfogettable stories actually saddens me more than I thought it would.

I would assume that because new copies of these book haven't been published in years (probably for more than a decade), tattered elementary school library copies have been donated to your local Value Village, Goodwill, etc., and haven't been replaced.

Can you imagine? A student in elementary school never hearing about or getting their hands on a Roald Dahl book? Ever? They were staples back in the day.

I'm aging myself, I know. I'm old.

I may be the only one lamenting the loss of Tuck Everlasting in today's libraries, but if you share my love for 90's children's literature, at least I can rest on the fact that there are still lovers of Roald Dahl, Lois Lowry, and the like out there. Cheers to that.

And, I think I may go re-read my copy of The Giver now. Just because.

"It is astonishing how little one feels alone when one loves."
- John Bulwer

“In life and love, it is better to know and be disappointed, than to not know and always wonder.”

Home For Another Week & Karaoke @ The Gladstone

2011-05-03T11:36:00.010-04:00

So. Clearly, last night's federal election was momentous. Mind boggling. I blinked a few times, staring at CTV's seat counter (Sidebar: Nothing can take away from my undying loyalty for Lloyd Robertson). I couldn't believe it. But, my comments on last night's historic results will end here. My thoughts on last night's results aren't very popular among my age bracket, so in the interest of tapering down on possible arguments, let's just say I'm sitting here, very satisfied, as I type this message. No gloating, no satisfied smirking. Just very proud of my incumbent MP and the party he represents. If you'd like to discuss the results with me, feel free to send me a Facebook message, friends! :)

But, anyway. The point of today's blog post. I forgot to mention that I'm homeeee for another week! Clearly, I couldn't stay away from Toronto.

THIS PAST FRIDAY...

Amid all the Royal Wedding hoopla, I headed to Toronto from Kingston this past Friday afternoon, running on 1 hour of sleep. I don't know how I survived. I met Alicia and Mel downtown, and we proceeded to kill 8 hours in downtown Toronto, until a fried's birthday celebration at the Gladstone Hotel's Melody Bar at 10:00 pm that night.

What do you do at the Gladstone Hotel's Melody Bar?

Why, you sing karaoke, of course.

Okay.

Story time.

When my fried informed me last week that we'd be heading to a karaoke bar for her birthday, I freaked out. In excitement. Do you guys know how much I love karaoke? More than life itself. But, I'm Asian. So clearly, I'm conforming to popular stereotypes. *flashes peace sign*

So, last week, before heading to Toronto, I casually mentioned to Janice that I'd be going to the Gladstone on Friday for karaoke. I was excited to burst into my own rendition of a Spice Girls favourite, you know? Don't judget me.

Except. Janice stared at me blankly once I mentioned the venue.

"You're going to the Gladstone for karaoke?" she asked incredulously, "Uh, do you know how they do karaoke there?"

"No," I was confused. I hadn't been there before. I just assumed it was, you know, normal karaoke. Full of low-key, lovers of everyday music with no hope of ever singing on the right key. Singing off-key, for the win.

"Karaoke at the Gladstone is HARDCORE, Barb!" she complained, "The last time we were there, we were booed of the stage. TWICE."

Okay. I know it was mean. But I giggled. Booed off the stage singing karaoke? I thought she was exaggerating. She tried to convince me that people who sing there are hardcore recording artists, but I brushed her descriptions aside.

I was ready to sing my heart out to old school N'Sync. You know? How could you boo someone off a stage when they're clearly so emotionally invested in classic 90's pop? I wouldn't have the heart to!

So, Alicia, Mel, and I arrived at the Gladstone on Friday night. It was cute. And I was super glad to celebrate my friend's birthday with her, since I missed her parties the last couple of years. And, I wanted to sing, damnit. Quit playing games with my heart. Ten points for getting that reference.

But then, it happened. The first karaoke participant stepped on the stage. She looked like any normal crazy about to burst out in an off-key, heartfelt tune. But.... she didn't.

Oh. She was really. really. really. good.

Um. This woman was talented. And, clearly, had tons of vocal training.

Janice was right.

As people came on and off the stage, singing their hearts out, I blinked. It was like an episode of Glee. They were really good. Almost professionals. I almost expected them to bust out a choreographed dance.

It, clearly, became evident that, uh, my penchant for 90's classic pop wouldn't be well-received by this audience. And, it also became increasingly apparent that we would be booed off that stage like no tomorrow if we even as much as stepped on that stage.

So, dear readers, we didn't.

We didn't make like Brian Litrell. We didn't put Aretha to shame.

Lesson learned? If you want to sing karaoke at the Gladstone, you have to be, uh, a good singer. Whoops.

HOME FOR ANOTHER WEEK!

But, no matter. I'm home in Toronto for another week! God, I love this city. I'll be visiting my old UofT campus libraries again this week to find books for this thesis, so it'll be nice to wander the area again.

It's times like these when I groan at the thought of going back to Kingston next week. Ah well, only a month or so until I can move back to Toronto for good.

Hope everyone is having a fantastic week! READ UP ON POST-ELECTION NEWS COVERAGE! Epic, epic, epic.

"The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved - loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves."
- Victor Hugo

"Nothing important was ever achieved without someone taking a chance."
- H. Jackson Brown, Jr.

Today Is A Special, Special Day! - PLEASE VOTE! - ELECTION DAY 2011

2011-05-02T16:27:00.009-04:00

It's Election Day.

Dun dun dun dun.

Cue Rocky soundtrack.

I really hope everyone has gone out to VOTE today! I said it before, and I'll say it again. We live in a country where we can actually do this. People are risking their lives in other countries (including the one I was born in), praying for free elections. But, WE have this privilege! PLEASE VOTE! If you haven't already, there are still TWO HOURS till the polls close in Toronto (at the time I'm writing this post), so please hit up your local polling station and exercise this democratic right!

It's an important day, my friends. As I write this post, we're electing into power Canada's 41st Parliament. Not only is today important, it's historic. Whatever happens tonight, this election has been tremendously significant. See: the NDP's surge, vote mobs engaging young voters, coalition talk, etc. This election is going down in history books.

Want to read an interesting article? CLICK HERE to read yesterday's Globe article on "How This ‘Unnecessary Election’ Has Changed Canada For The Better."

It actually gives me goosebumps to know that we're watching history tonight.

I stocked up on piles of healthy snacks to happily munch on for election coverage tonight. These are exciting times, folks. I'm so excited, I don't know what to do with myself. No really, I actually don't know what to do with myself. Like, I don't think I've been this excited since I found my favourite Kate Spade purse on sale in New York.

And so, I'm currently surrounded by crackers and hummus (because that's where it's at), about to watch Nova Scotia's election coverage, since Toronto's doesn't start for another two hours. I love Satellite TV, don't you? My only disappointment is that I'm missing the department's Election Party in Kingston tonight. I forgot to mention that I'm back in Toronto for the next few weeks, so I'll be watching tonight's coverage with my mother instead!

CTV's coverage begins at 8:00 pm, and POLLS WILL BE CLOSING in 2 hours in Toronto. I'll say it again, PLEASE VOTE, if you haven't already!

Have a great evening watching history go down tonight, everyone!

"The ballot is stronger than the bullet."
- Abraham Lincoln

It Feels Like Summer - A Week of Endings & Distractions In Kingston!

2011-04-27T21:24:00.013-04:00

I want to sit here. All day.
I have nothing to blog about.

Because, realistically, have I done any work the past week? Have you looked outside? How could I possibly get any work done? When I could go frolic in the sun? When I could sit on the benches outside Stauffer Library and people-watch the day away?

But, realistically, this also means I must have taken at least 8754357849357 days and nights off since the day I handed in my last term paper. Um. The prospects of finishing my thesis in the timeframe I have aren't looking good. When will I actually start working on this MRP?

I'll let Future Barbara worry about this.

Because, it's the end of the term, and it feels like summer. And ergo, it feels like summer vacation. Not only does it look like summer outside, it feels like summer in a vacation sense of the word. Sandals, sunglasses, a big floppy hat, and leisure reading. That's what I feel like doing right about now.

And also, I can't concentrate. Because it's the end of the term, it's been a week of endings here in Kingston. A week of endings for this so-called grad life of mine. And this vacation-like setting makes me feel like I'm done this degree.

But first...

WITH THE END OF THE YEAR COMES MANY DISTRACTIONS...

Did I mention the weather?

Did I mention that the ice cream shop downtown near the lake just opened today?

Did I mention I can now sit by the lake and read without worries of snow/hail/freezing temperatures?

Did I mention that my new jogging regime (inspired by the weather) has me addicted to running and fixated on studying everything there is to know about daily exercise? And ergo, NOT studying my thesis topic?

Did I mention that I still haven't fully decided on a law school for next year yet? And ergo, I've been spending much of my waking hours researching, wracking my brain, trying to decide once in for all which institution I'd like to spend the next three years of my life in?

Did I mention the end-of-year bonanzas in Kingston every night this week?

And lastly, did I mention that the World Figure Skating Championships can be streamed live everyday this week?.

A WEEK OF ENDINGS

And, like I said, it's also been a week of endings here in Kingston. Enough to distract me from doing my work. It's been such a great semester. And now, summer's here. People are leaving. My schedule is changing. My daily routine will probably change. And, in less than two months, I'll be leaving Kingston too.

First, it's been a week of finishing up my last duties as a Politics TA. 700 exams were marked, recorded, checked, re-checked. Yup. I'm officially no longer a TA. And, I'm almost 100% sure I probably won't be a TA again in the future. Oh, this is bittersweet. I'm going to miss it.

It's been a week of undergrads moving out of Kingston. I swear, I must have seen a dozen first years trudging down University Avenue with suitcases in tow. Have a fun summer, kids! Let the grad students take over Kingston while you're gone, yea?

It's been a week of friends moving out, moving back home. Plus, Housemate #1 just moved out today. Oh god, I hate goodbyes.

It's, basically, been a week of mass exodus out of Kingston. This town is going to be so quiet the next few months.

It really does feel like summer vacation.

Oh, summer. I can't wait to enjoy you.... after I write this thesis. So, in the midst of all the goodbyes, farewell lunches, dinners, and parties, I need to get back to work. Back to the library I go. Tomorrow.

"In my end, is my beginning."
- T.S. Eliot

The Day I Went To VOTE - Canada Votes (in Advanced Polls) 2011

2011-04-24T18:11:00.017-04:00

Wasn't the weather yesterday beautiful? It was over twenty degrees, the weather was flawless. What a perfect long weekend.

And, even better? Yesterday, I voted. For the third time since I was eighteen.

And so here, my friends, is the story of The Day I Voted in the 2011 Canadian federal election, doing my part to have my say in electing Canada's 41st Parliament. It was such an awesome voting experience (minus the glitches), particularly because of my encounter with the Elderly Registration Officer discussed below.

BUT FIRST, THE GLITCHES...

My story stretches back to this past Wednesday, when I arrived home from Kingston for the first time in two months. TWO months. And, to tell you the truth, I was excited to vote in my riding. I knew I'd be voting in my riding no matter what, so my parents and I made plans weeks ago to vote in the Advanced Polls while I was home. Since I'd be Kingston on Election Day, you know?

But, the thing is, as I chomped down on my first homecooked meal in months that evening, my mother informed me that I didn't receive a voting card in the mail. My parents received theirs, but mine was missing. And I knew my Kingston address wasn't listed as my permanent one.

What? I know. I went from confused to worried in a matter of seconds.

So I hopped on the phone and dialed my local Elections Canada information hotline, and chatted with the representative I was sent to. After a few minutes, it was apparent that he couldn't find my name on the voters list.

Cue my panic.

What?! I've lived in this city since I was eleven years old. Don't do this to me! Why am I not a registered voter in my home riding? I need to vote! I NEED TO VOTE! I WANT TO VOTE! And so, half an hour later, after some nagging and persistence, I was on the list.

After that little glitch, I was ready to vote!

VOTING ON ADVANCED POLLING DAY...

So yesterday evening, my parents and I were heading to the Living Arts Centre (where I had to play piano for the evening). But prior to driving over, our first stop was the local middle school where an Advanced Polling station was set up.

We thought it would only take a few minutes. You know, walk in, vote, walk out.

But, no. Apparently, it wouldn't be that easy. We reached the entrance of the middle school and the line was so long that it stretched all the way out the middle school.

There was only one table facilitating the exercise. Apparently, advanced polls take twice as long as voting on Election Day, because of the hassle of taking us off the voters lists used on Election Day.

The 5 minutes we expected to spend at the polling station stretched to 55 minutes.

ONE HOUR. Waiting to vote. Needless to say, many people gave up and left.

We were running late, but decided to stick it out. And I'm glad we did. There's nothing better than watching democracy at work. And better yet, people enjoying exercising a democratic right.

And so, as per usual habits, my parents and I made friends with the people standing around us in line. Nothing bad about being neighbourly, yea?

Honestly, it was such an awesome voting experience. It warmed my heart to meet all these people who were EXCITED to vote.

We met an eighteen-year old boy voting in his first election.

We met a young Chinese family who arrived in Canada five years ago, moved to our neighbourhood a year ago, and was voting for the first time as Canadian citizens.

We met an elderly couple who filled me in on all their years of voting experience. The history nerd in me wanted to hear their take on the 1993 federal election.

And then came the most adorable encounter with an old man so fervently enthusiastic over watching youth voting.

I was taken aside by an Elderly Registration Officer who wanted to double check that I was at the right polling station because I didn't have a voting card.

CURSE MY MISSING VOTING CARD.

However, Elderly Registration Officer was adorable and so helpful. He worried that I would up and leave since I was going through such a hassle figuring out this voter registration business.

"YOUNG PEOPLE DON'T VOTE ENOUGH. I'LL SORT THIS OUT. JUST PLEASE DON'T LEAVE!" he begged, taking my driver's license to double check the voters list.

Aw. Of course I won't leave. I want to vote!

Finally, after my registration issues were cleared up, my parents and I reached the front of the line to vote. We were crossed off the voter lists, handed our ballots, and we each walked behind the cardboard box to mark our ballots.

As I walked over to stuff my ballot into the ballot box, I looked up to see the Elderly Registration Officer standing by his table clapping. And I swear I saw tears in his eyes.

Aw. Isn't that adorable reaction to voting, ever? I was so touched.

He shook my hand as I walked out. So proud that he was witnessing young people voting so enthusiastically in a federal election.

There's just something special about exercising our right to vote. And I'm not just saying this because I study politics. There are so many others, in countries all over the world (including the one I was born in), where people only WISH they could participate and vote in a free and, most importantly, fair election.

So let's do that Elderly Registration Officer and our country proud by voting in this election, yea? We live in a country where we can actually do that.

DON'T FORGET, ELECTION DAY IS ON MAY 2, 2011!

ALSO, Rick Mercer has a message for all of us. CLICK HERE.

"There are more than three million young eligible voters in this country and as far as any of the political parties are concerned, you might as well all be dead. In fact in some elections, in Quebec for example, the dead have a higher voter turn out.

It is the conventional wisdom of all political parties that young people will not vote. And the parties, they like it that way. It's why your tuition keeps going up.

So please, if you're between the age of 18 and 25 and you want to scare the hell out of the people that run this country, this time around, do the unexpected. Take 20 minutes out of your day and do what young people all around the world are dying to do.

Vote."

- Rick Mercer, March 30, 2011

Lessons Learned From Grumpy Old Men - My Trip Home From Kingston To Toronto

2011-04-21T21:04:00.019-04:00

Yesterday, I woke up at the crack of dawn to figure out my packing situation for the long weekend. I've mentioned a number of times on this blog, prior to my trips home, that I'm a chronic overpacker. Ever met those people who don't know the meaning of "pack lightly"? Even if they're only going to be away for a few days? That's me. I never know what to pack. Even when I was younger, I'd pack my life away in numerous duffel bags on my way to sleepovers (until my parents would throw their hands up in frustration and made me re-pack).

But, no matter. Because, I'm home! Home for the long weekend! Ah, it feels so good to be back. Hope everyone has a great long weekend, it's sure to be a good one!

But, I learned a lesson on my way home yesterday.

Hopping on the city bus (with just a mere backpack, duffel bag, and purse, I know, WHAT A PACKING SUPERSTAR!), I headed over to Kingston's local bus terminal where my Coach bus was leaving at 10:00 am, bound for Toronto.

I arrived an hour early, with time to kill. So I walked over to the Tim Horton's located beside the terminal to get some breakfast. As I walked in, I blinked. The coffee shop was full, and I mean full, of old men. Not that it was overtly weird... but it kind of was. Oddly fascinating.

Because, it was like a scene from the movies. I mean, it wasn't like there was an old man convention going on. That bus terminal is pretty much located in the middle of nowhere. It just looked so fascinating, you know? The tables were flooded with old men, chatting.

Think of that classic, stereotypical scene of old men sitting around a coffee shop chatting with their friends about life. That's what I saw. Old men in corduroy pants, plaid shirts, jean jackets, perfectly parted gray hair, cell phones bigger than your forearms. The coffee shop was full of them. All sitting in their old men cliques, chatting with their friends over coffee.

But that wasn't the weird part.

Luckily, I spotted an empty table, hurried over to dump my things on the table, and turned to order a breakfast sandwich and tea to satisfy my growling tummy. After I was handed my order, I sat happily in my corner, unravelled my sandwich, and happily texted my friends that, YES, I WAS AT THE BUS TERMINAL AND I WAS COMING HOME, BABY!

Until, of course, my penchant for eavesdropping got the better of me.

At the table beside me sat a clique of five old men. And, after listening for a few minutes, I figured out two of their names. Albert and Johnson. Cute, right? Except, their conversation was far from endearing.

"Albert, we're going to die soon," Johnson said glumly, chomping on his chocolate dipped donut.

"Why do you say that?" Albert asked.

"Because, we're old, damnit," Johnson snapped. "All our friends are gone. We're bored everyday. I say, we're going to die soon too."

"How did we get so old?" Another man chirped, sighing dejectedly, "We really are going to die."

"What do we have to live for?" the fourth one wailed, "We're too old to golf, too old to shop, too old to do anything."

"We might as well just die," Johnson sighed.

How morbidly depressing. And as I looked around, eavesdropping on other conversations, the other old men at other tables were talking in the same vein.

There was the conversation about Smith with the "bad heart" and how "he had it coming." The conversation on how "bingo was getting boring." The conversation on how "the grandkids don't visit anymore." The conversation on how "life is so boring, we might as well just die." They all seemed to reach that conclusion.

It was so sad. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to reach over and give them all hugs, but, you know, they would have thought I was insane.

I remember volunteering at retirement homes with my parents last year, playing the piano for elderly folks just like the men in that coffee shop. And just like the men in that coffee shop, they all sat in their beds or chairs. Wistful, sad, bored, lonely. Th men in that coffee shop kept saying life was boring. That they felt so alone.

No one deserves that, you know?

How sad, how lonely it must be to live life like that. And, that's the thing. Yesterday was just a wakeup call for me. That there are people out there, young or old, who may need someone to talk to, who may need someone to entertain them in the midst of their current issues. There are people out there who are lonely, who may have problems they haven't told anybody. Sometimes, people just need someone to care about them. Someone to love them, to be their friend.

We all might be busy and overwhelmed with this grad life, but it shouldn't stop us from checking in with our friends, relatives, parents, to see if they're doing alright. There are many people, older or younger, out there who may need help valuing each day we're given. Who desire friendship, love, companionship. Let's not get so wrapped up in our own affairs that we forget to check up and spend time with those we care about, yea? Seeing those men yesterday greatly concerned me. Whose checking up on them, I wonder?

Sorry, that was a little sappy. End corny blog post. And, I've just given myself a major guilt trip for skipping out on volunteering at the retirement home since September.

Boo to me.

I hope you all have a wonderful long weekend, spending time with those you love and those you care about!

"The vast majority of human beings dislike and even dread all notions with which they are not familiar. Hence, it comes about that, at their first appearance, innovators have generally been persecuted, and always derided as fools and madmen."
- Aldous Huxley

"A good head and a good heart are always a formidable combination."
- Nelson Mandela

The "Thesis" - Getting Started On This Masters Research Paper (MRP)

2011-04-19T20:29:00.014-04:00

Some people are calling it our thesis. Some people are calling it our Masters Research Paper or MRP. Whatever it is, I have to write one. As soon as possible. Under enormous time constraints.

How? Why?

Well, technically, this MRP isn`t due until August 13, 2011. Plenty of time, right? That`s four months away. I can kick off my sandals and go frolic in the sun all I want, right?.

No. Sit down, Barb.

Because, as per usual, I`ve put myself in another dilemma. Voluntarily. So, basically, I`ve been given a job for the summer, right for the beginning of July, ending the last week of August. And, theoretically, I should be happy about this job, right? Like, wooo, money for law school, that`s always good, right?

Well, I suppose. If it wasn`t for the fact that, because of this job, I have to move out of Kingston at the end of June.

And, because of this job, I have to hand in a FINAL DRAFT of this MRP by June 27, 2011. Two months earlier than the projected deadline. And (smack me now), I need to have a first draft written by the end of May.

In a month.

And did I mention the MRP should be 60 to 80 pages long?

Do you hear that sound? It`s me. Banging my head on my desk.

I don`t know why I did this to myself. I want this job, but that also means enormous pressure to get this MRP done before I start this job. I won`t have time to work on my MRP this summer, from home.

And, to top it off, I know nothing about part of my MRP topic.

Yeah. Goodbye, social life.

But, fine.

I`ll stop complaining. I won`t get anything done this way. Let`s get this started.

So. I need to get this done. And I will. (I don`t have a choice, do I?)

My MRP is a comparative paper on the politics of campaign finance reform in the Philippines and the United States, and its relationship to the representation of women in Congress (or successful outcomes from Congressional elections).

Interesting, right? I love my topic. I actually, literally love it. Doing this Masters degree just showed me how much I love the study of elections and political parties.

Problem is, I`m not the greatest expert on American politics, or American... anything. And so, studying campaign finance reform in the U.S. is mostly foreign to me (apart from what I`ve read in the news).

That`s why my shoulder hurts. I just took out 20 books from the library on American campaign finance reform and regulation, dumbed them in a Metro grocery bag, and lugged them home.

And so, dear readers, because of this limited knowledge on American politics,I have a favour to ask. If there`s anyone out there reading this who is an expert (or have some knowledge) on campaign finance reform (in the US or otherwise), please shoot me an email (located in the About Me section). You`ll be my new best best best best friend. And your knowledge will be greatly appreciated!

Now, I`m off to create a reading schedule for myself. I need to get writing, uh, soon. Wish me luck!

"In life, we all have an unspeakable secret, an irreversible regret, an unreachable dream and an unforgettable love."
- Diego Marchi

"I learned there are troubles of more than one kind.
Some come from ahead, others come from behind.
But I've bought a big bat. I'm all ready, you see.
Now my troubles are going to have trouble with me."
- Dr. Seuss

Second Semester Officially Over & Home For The Long Weekend!

2011-04-19T20:07:00.009-04:00

I`m officially done with the most stressful month of my life. And that`s not an exaggeration. I handed in my very last (albeit, pretty crappy) term paper yesterday. But, that`s the thing. It`s done! It`s over! And now, back to a regular blogging schedule.

I can`t believe I survived.

There were moments in April (actually, in this year) where I thought I wouldn`t.

And with that last paper, and with the last day of classes 2 weeks ago, it`s time for a break. So I`m heading home for the Easter long weekend, tomorrow. (!!!!!). Oh, relief. I haven`t been home in two months, I can`t even imagine what my mother`s cooking tastes like anymore. Anyway, I`ll be home for four days, and will be back in Kingston this coming Monday. Home! Home! Home! I`m so excited.

And, starting this Monday, when I get back to my regular spot at the library, I start working on the last thing keeping me from my Masters degree: the Masters Research Paper. Thesis, whatever. But, more on that in a later post.

And yet, despite the joy and relief of having second semester over with, there`s the reality that, while my graduate program lasts until the summer, some don`t.

Meaning, many people are starting to leave, moving out of Kingston for good.

Insert sad face here.

Are you as terrible with goodbyes as I am? Because, trust me. I`m terrible at them. I can`t imagine what it`s going to be like moving out of Kingston in June. You know, that eighty year old Gramma that bawls her eyes out whenever she has to say goodbye to someone, even if they`ll only be apart for a few months?

That`s me. I`m your eighty year old Gramma.

Several friends I`ve made in Kingston will be leaving in the next week or so. A couple are leaving for exchange (to Europe!!), some are in programs that only last until April, and some are moving out and working on our thesis from home.

This is so sad. I hate saying goodbye. And, plus, There are so many things we`ve planned to do in Kingston that we haven`t done yet!

Like, for instance. I was supposed to visit the Kingston Jail with some of you. Is this not happening anymore?

Insert another sad face here.

And, to make matters worse, most of my housemates are moving out in the next week.

Break my heart, why don`t you?!

Well, anyway, to spare those of you moving out this week with my tearful salutations, I will end here with the note that I will see you all again soon. Be it in Toronto, in Mississauga, Ottawa, this summer. We will see each other again! And we`ll keep in touch!

And, I`ll brighten up, because I`m visiting home tomorrow! Woooooo.

HAPPY EASTER LONG WEEKEND, EVERYONE :)

"He told me that in Greek, nostalgia literally means the pain from an old wound. It’s a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone. This device isn’t a spaceship, it’s a time machine. Goes backwards, forwards, and takes us to a place where we ache to go again. It’s not called ‘The Wheel,’ it’s called ‘The Carousel.’ It lets us travel the way a child travels, round and around and back home again, to a place where we know we are loved."
- Don Draper, Mad Men

Last Day of Class As A Masters Student

2011-04-06T21:18:00.013-04:00

I have nothing valuable to contribute to this blog today. This post will be brief, I just wanted to document today`s milestone in the form of a blog post. After I publish this post, I`m going straight to bed.

Because, well, I haven't slept. I'm tired, I'm burnt out, and, well, I think I have a fever.

Today was Black Wednesday. Meaning, I had two 30-paged major essays due today. Major, major essays. One of them worth 60% of my mark. And one of them, I`m basing my Masters Research Paper on. Which meant that the days leading up to today were absolute torture sent from Hades.

And, well, technically, I did sleep for a few hours last night. But those don't count, since I kept periodically waking up, anxious that I would accidentally sleep in and be That Girl running into my 8:30 am class late, panting, waving her essay in the air, swearing that I was going to hand in my essay on time andthatIjustaccidentallysleptin,iswear.

Well, I didn't sleep in. And I handed both essays in on time this morning. Those papers are now officially out of my life.

So. This is what freedom feels like.

And, as I skipped out of both classes, I realized that for the first time in two weeks, I wouldn`t be spending the afternoon at the library. It was a bizarre feeling, breathing in fresh air. Really. I literally spent about eight to nine hours at the library everyday these past two weeks, and it was a weird feeling not being there this afternoon. I`m pretty sure the other regulars at the library wondered where we were today. Like, if we were in a ditch somewhere. Because, us being at the library? It was a thing. A regular thing.

But, moving on to the point of this post. Even though the days leading up to today were torture, the efforts were worth it. Because today marked a personal historic moment: my last day of class as a Masters student.

I can`t believe I made it.

The term is almost over, our classes are over. There are still a few more assignments left to finish, but after the next week or so, that`s it. Just a Masters Research Paper to write, and we`ll have our degrees.

Bizarre, bizarre feeling.

When you`re knee-deep in assignments, drowning in stress, the end seems so far away. Like you`ll never get there. And now that I`ve reached the end of this semester, fulfilled a number of sleepless nights writing papers, I realize now that I`ll really miss my classes. I`ll admit, I loved my classes this semester, far more than I did with the last.

My last class today, held at the Grad Club, was bittersweet. I`m really, really going to miss my classes and, most importantly, the people in my classes. I absolutely loved my classmates in that Gender and Globalization class. And as our professor dismissed us this afternoon, it, um, got a little emotional. I`m surprised none of us broke out in song.

And so, today? I reached a milestone. Many of us did.

As of today, we have officially completed two thirds of our degrees.

Again, bizarre. I can`t believe the end is near. We`re almost there, friends. We`re almost there.

That`s all I have to say today. I just wanted to document today`s last day milestone on this blog. Because, it`s a pretty big deal.

But, right now? I`m going to sleep. After a night editing those papers, going to bed at 10:00 pm is probably a smart option. And, this weekend? After spending the last few weekends camped out at the library, it is imperative that the Grizzly Grill, Monkey Bar, Alfies (to run into our students, of course), etcetera etcetera will be factored into every night this weekend. Yes. Yes, it will.

I`m two thirds done this degree? WOOOO HOOOO.

Have a great last week of classes, everyone!

"We are not the same person this year as last; nor are those we love. It is a happy change if we, changing, continue to love a changed person."
- W. Somerset Maugham

“Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory unannounced, stray dogs that amble in, sniff around a bit and simply never leave. Our lives are measured by these.”
- Susan B. Anthony

My (Almost) Last Day As A TA

2011-03-31T20:24:00.011-04:00

It finally dawned on me today that there's only one week left in this semester.

And three months until I leave Kingston for good.

It boggles the mind, doesn't it? That this entire year went by so fast? I'm not even going to begin thinking about the possibilities for next year. It actually scares me that I haven't made a decision yet.

So, anyway. I've refrained from blogging about TA-ing on this blog. Because, well, you know. Common sense. So I won't be going into specifics about today's tutorial. But I will say this: I've realized that I will sincerely, genuinely miss my students.

I will be TA-ing one more tutorial next week. But today was the last day of tutorials for the other section that I teach. Anyway, I expected today's class to be a good discussion. I knew they would all have something to say about Haiti. But I didn't expect what happened at the end of tutorial.

I ended the last few minutes by talking about the upcoming federal election, giving my two cents on why I think they should consider voting. Please, kids, please please consider voting! Please get to know who is running in your riding! Please! And then, with some concluding comments, I dismissed them.

However, most of my students didn't leave. I was confused, until I saw what a couple of them were about to do. Instead of leaving, a majority of them stayed back to say "thank you" and to give me a card that conveyed their thanks. The message was adorable.

And, okay. It was absolutely, positively, the sweetest thing ever.

One student even told me that our tutorials were the reason she decided to major in Politics. That she discovered how much she loved the discipline.

I can't even describe how surprised I was. Oh, how far we've come from the beginning of the year, yea? Remember our reservations? That anxious feeling, not knowing whether teaching would come as easily as we'd like it? Honestly, at the beginning of the year, I wasn't sure if I'd even like TA-ing. I think many of us had doubts. Would we be good TAs? Would we be able to answer all their questions? Give proper advice? Get all that marking done? And yet, as I went through the year, I realized how much I loved it. I know academia isn't for me, but if, on an alternate universe, I decided to stay. It would, honestly, be for this.

This feeling of knowing that you taught something you loved. And that you were able to transfer that love and interest to another student. I love what I study. And helping another student discover such an interest is one of the best feelings in the world. I can't even express on this blog how happy I am to know that students out there are falling in love with the study of politics.

It warms the deep, dark cockles of my ogre's heart. It really does.

And, honestly? Now that I've reached the end, I think I'm really going to miss being a TA. It was such an enlightening, wonderful experience. I'll never forget it.

"The important thing is not so much that every child should be taught, as that every child should be given the wish to learn."
- John Lubbock

"Until the day when God shall deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is summed up in these two words--- 'wait and hope.'"
- Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

This Is Why "Politics" Disappoints Me

2011-03-30T20:54:00.018-04:00

Before you go any further, I'll assure you that this isn't the post you think I'm about to write. This won't get personal. And, no, I won't be flooding this post with nonsensical, political jargon.

I just want to rant. Will you let me? Here I go.

Wait. First, I'm going to tell you a couple of stories.

ANECDOTE 1 - The Left Wing Nutjob?

A couple of weeks ago, I was out for drinks with some new friends who I didn't know too well (hence, the going out for drinks thing. A good way to get to know each other, yeah?). Anyway, one of them made a joke about my department.

"So, I heard about the Commies over there. Is it true?" they joked (but, not really joking, if you know what I mean), "How do you deal with those left wing nutjobs, anyway? God, they must be such terrible people. So unreasonable. I swear, those people are crazy. They think people are evil just because they wear suits and nice clothes. What kind of sheltered crap is that?"

Um. There are a few things wrong with this picture. Not least of these being that you're insulting my department to my face. But, let's carry on.

ANECDOTE 2 - Those Evil Capitalists?

Again, a couple of weeks ago, I was out for drinks (again) with some (other) new friends (I swear, I do have time for school). With news about a pending election, they casually asked me if I'd be voting NDP. After my hesitant reply (I have to weigh the options, obviously), they immediately froze.

"What? You're not voting orange?" one of them asked, horrified, "You're a terrible person."

And, casually, another asked, "So, what are your politics?"

After my moderate reply, he shook his head, and turned to our other friend, "Listen, I know people who think like us. We should, you know, create a club or something."

I then mentioned a friend in Economics who would be interested in something like that.

They stared at me, strangely.

"What? He doesn't think there's anything wrong with free markets?" they asked, "We can't be friends with him! What the hell? He's an evil capitalist. He must be a terrible person."

THIS IS WHY "POLITICS" DISAPPOINTS ME

Do we see a problem with these two scenarios? I do. And, ironically, these two camps of utter hypocrisy have more in common than they think they do.

My problem? Conflating a person's "politics" with the "type of person" they are. From what I've observed in the grad student community here, competing ideological camps have perceptions of each other as "Communist nutjobs" or "fancy-suit-wearing-capitalists," without getting to know them as actual people.

Conflating their "politics" with being a "terrible person"? Really?

Does anyone see a problem with these judgements? Anyone? I understand why you don't want to be someone's friend if they're actually, legitimately a jerk. But judging someone before actually getting to know them, on the basis of their political leanings? Without judging their personalities, without getting to know them as actual people? Or, for example, conflating what their parents do for a living with what type of people they are?

Like, your parents are dentists? Oh, you must be rich. Ergo, a capitalist. Ergo, can't be your friend, sucka! I need to judge you, like, right now!

Like, your father's a truck driver? Oh, you're a peasant. Ergo, radical Marxist. Ergo, can't be your friend, nutjob!

Like, I've "heard" he's an Economist. Must be a right-wing radical. Can't be his friend, nope!

Like, I've "heard" she's a Development Studies student. She must be a freaking Marxist, yo! I can't be friends with a Communist!

I'm actually sick of it. Now that I write this blog post, I don't know if its politics specifically that disappoints me. Or, rather, if it's just people themselves.

Granted, I'm guilty of this too, though. You don't want to imagine what was going through my mind during both of the above scenarios.

For people who think they're so educated, some grad students can be so incredibly close minded, no matter what "camp" they belong to. They believe so much in how they think the world should be, that they neglect another camp they should be understanding and listening to. Instead of debating or engaging or listening to each other's ideas, they close themselves off to ideological camps. Surrounding themselves with friends who ONLY think the way they do.

Both camps espouse the same elitist attitudes they accuse each other of exercising. Whose hypocritical now?

And, frankly, from what I've seen in the grad student community this year, I'm not surprised that our world is the way it is today. Why it's so full of division and hate. There's no interest in understanding each other. There's only interest in sheltering oneself with those who think the same way.

Now, I'm not saying that everyone in the grad student community thinks this way. I've met a number of friends who are so open-minded about ideology and the policies associated with each kind. But for those that don't? You cannot imagine how much this annoys me. And yet, despite my hopes, I know I'll still witness such behaviour.

And while I'm not naive enough to think that we can all come together under one ideology, one political camp (what? I know! Crazy!), I just wish we could just try to understand people before judging them and insulting them behind their backs. Understand why their "politics" is opposite from yours. Understand their logic. Understand where they're coming from.

Really, is that so hard? Or is gossiping and calling them names behind their backs just the easier option?

If grad students can't even be friends, and hate each other based on stereotypical ideological misconceptions, imagine what it's like with actual political Powers That Be?

It's disappointing, really. And so hypocritical. And, disheartening.

Grad school has taught me (among other things, of course), that people can disappoint you. In remarkable ways. Where is this love everyone keeps talking about? Because, between ideological lines, I don't see any love or understanding.

And we wonder why our world is so messed up? We don't understand each other, or even try to understand why others think they way they do. Nor do we stop and actually listen. And open our minds. If we want our world, our communities to be a better place, there's no place better to start than with ourselves.

“If each man or woman could understand that every other human life is as full of sorrows, or joys, or base temptations, of heartaches and of remorse as his own... how much kinder, how much gentler he would be.”
- William Allen White

“When dealing with people, remember you are not dealing with creatures of logic, but creatures of emotion.”
- Dale Carnegie

“We are all alike on the inside”
- Mark Twain

This Is Why I Miss Home - Happy Birthday, Alicia!!!

2011-03-29T20:54:00.012-04:00

Here's my birthday greeting. All the way from Kingston. On a blog you suggested I start, no less. Do you remember this? I hope you do.

Anyway, I know you're all the way on the other side of the world right now, being the do-gooder you are, having the time of your life, but we still can't wait to see you when you're finally home! And, seriously. Adventures in New York await us. So there's a lot of things to look forward to. Thanks for being such a wonderful, fabulous friend! You've been the best partner-in-crime anyone could ask for, and the past seven years I've known you (has it already been seven years?!) have gone by without a dull moment. I'm so glad to have you as one of my bestest, closest friends. May you be blessed with a wonderful new year of your life, full of fantastic opportunities, wonderful surprises, and even more adventures (Two words: Michael and Kors) as we go through this post-grad life together. Love you, friend! Happy Birthday!

And, you know, this is why I miss home. For those of you heading off to grad school next year, always remember the people who love you and care about you. At home. Though grad school has been a wonderful experience for me so far, I think it's also important to remember that grad school can be tough in another sense. There will be many people who will, unfortunately, desperately want you to fail in order to secure their success. It may not be the easiest process to make friends in a strange city, a new school, and new program. And most importantly, grad school can be emotionally and physically draining. So much that, at times, you think you've gone crazy. However, if all this happens to you, take heart.

Because, the antidote? A reminder of everything waiting for you back home. And, my friends, that's where my heart will forever be. With the city I love, and the friends I adore. And today, I miss you all so very very much. Thinking of all of you with warm thoughts and good wishes!

P.S. Do I sound homesick? Or do I sound homesick? Let's wager a guess. Can't wait to see you all.

"Surround yourself with people you love being yourself with."

"Be courteous to all, but intimate with few, and let those few be well tried before you give them your confidence."
- George Washington

Post-Grad Trip #3 - New York, New York All Over Again!

2011-03-27T17:27:00.019-04:00

I am officially a Woo Girl.

No, really. That was the first squeal of glee I made when Mishal proposed a New York trip over the weekend.

What's a Woo Girl, you ask? Let Ted Mosby explain it to you.

Two years ago, a few weeks before our university graduation, my friends and I went to New York for the first time. And boy, did we love it. Seriously, I loved this city. From wandering SoHo, the Empire State Building, getting lost trying to find the Empire State Building, Chinatown, Canal Street, Little Italy, Central Park, Times Square, the random house party in Brooklyn (or was it Queens?), there was so much to do, so much to see. It was an awesome experience and, in short, it was an epic trip.

And so, we decided that every summer after graduation, we would travel somewhere together. Somewhere, anywhere. And, friends, that`s still the plan. Until we`re old and gray, we`ll be travelling somewhere together every year. And, last year, we embarked on our first Eurotrip ever: the adventures in Rome, Paris, and London, that I wrote about here.

This year, our initial plan was to jet off to Spain in July. Barcelona? Madrid? Awwww yeah. But unfortunately, reality calls. We realized a couple of months ago that Barcelona and Madrid will have to wait until next year. The timing just isn't right for many of us. Jobs? Returning from other trips abroad? Jobs? Trying to finish Masters degrees? Europe just won't work out this summer.

So where are we going for our yearly trip instead?

Well, back to New York, of course.

Wooooooooo.

See? There's a Woo Girl in me, somewhere.

I am so, so excited. I initially feared that our yearly post-grad trip wouldn't happen because of our busy schedules. But, thankfully, our travel plans are back on track. And a four-day trip to New York will be just the perfect antidote to the academic stress I`ll be under, come May.

So, the plan? This trip will be a little different than the last.

Meaning, we won't be taking an Asian bus tour this time. Oh, yeah. Did I mention Taipan Tours was involved the last time we were in New York? So. Awesome. But as much as we loved the quirky people on that tour with us, the plan this time is to take in as much of New York as possible. This means living right in the heart of Manhattan, visiting the places we didn't get to go to last time (the Museum of Modern Art, Guggenheim Museum, pastry shops on Broadway, Statue of Liberty, etc.), and maybe, just maybe, I can sneak away and visit NYU's Law School. Just because.

I am so excited. Did I mention that I`m really excited? The last time we were in New York, I was editing my undergraduate thesis. And this year, I'll be doing the same thing again. No doubt, I'll be editing a draft of that Masters Research Paper to the wee hours of the night in our hotel room after a day of shopping and sightseeing.

But it's worth the sacrifice. This trip will be spectacularly awesome, I can feel it. I can`t wait to travel with you girls yet again.

Also. I eagerly anticipate loitering around Times Square, as per tradition.

New York, can't wait to be back!

“The crime problem in New York is getting really serious. The other day, the Statue of Liberty had both hands up.”
- Jay Leno

"For time and the world do not stand still. Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or the present are certain to miss the future."
- John F. Kennedy

“It couldn't have happened anywhere, but in little old New York.”
- William Sydney Porter

A Message For The Ones We Will Forever Love

2011-03-26T01:35:00.031-04:00

I don't usually go into deep-seeded details about my personal life here on this dear blog. School is enough of a topic as it is.

But today will be different. Today, I won't be ranting about school. Because sometimes, when we step back, we may realize that the important things we care about don't primarily lie with the books we spend all these hours with.

I'm 23 years old, but I've never experienced death.

I have never experienced the loss of a friend, nor have I learned how to deal with such a loss. But this changed this past weekend.

Death comes so swiftly. Too often, we think our young age connotates immortality. But, here's the thing. We're not invincible. Some of us can be plagued by sickness, by accidents, by unforeseen incidents that show us the realness of our mortality. And too often, the ones we love most, the ones we care for so dearly, swiftly leave the world without knowing how much we love them, how much we deeply cared for them.

This grad life is busy, I know. But sometimes, those assignments? They aren't the only things in the world that matter. There are people we love who matter to us. And so, tell them you love them. Please tell them. That you love them. One can never hear those words too often.

And when we lose a friend to death, the regret we feel knowing that we didn't say those words as often as we should have is a difficult reality to accept.

And so, I'll end this post with a message for a sweet, wonderful friend. A friend whose friendship I will forever remember and value.

My friend, I will miss you. For the rest of my life. I will remember you fondly, remember the years I've known you happy, and most importantly, healthy.

I'm so very sorry for not seeing you when I came home for Reading Week. The neurotic grad student in me thought she wouldn't have time to see all her friends, that she'd have time to see you the next time she came home from Queen's. I'm sorry for cancelling, friend. I'm so very sorry. And I'm sorry that we didn't have a chance to ride the #38 bus together one last time, to wait for that perpetually tardy #38 bus one last time, to complain about how we always lose our GO train tickets, how we hate admitting we watch Gossip Girl and yet we still do. And I'm sorry that we didn't have the chance to go shopping, or to discuss how Glee has gone downhill, or bunk at Muskoka together again, or go to Booster Juice, or figure out just how Blair Waldorf stays so fabulous, or to just, you know, wear our red heels simultaneously on the same Sunday morning all over again. And, most importantly, I'm sorry that I let this busy grad life think I was too busy to catch up with you. With all of you. For this, I'm sorry. I'm very sorry. And I will forever regret being too engrossed in school to think about what was going on back home.

I'll remember you, always. And I will forever treasure my favourite memories with you. Because, really? Five hour band practices? Fish and chips? The gas station with the "only Asian in Northern Ontario"? Plunging the toilet for the first time in our Muskoka cabin? Getting lost in Northern Ontario trying to get to Muskoka? Oh, these good times. Friend, I'll never forget that weekend. We were attached at the hip, literally. And, in all seriousness, it was a pleasure leading Compass youth every week with you.

My dear friend, your friendship, your kindness meant very much to me, more than you will ever know. You lived a life that many would be proud of. And I'm so very happy that you're in the arms of a loving God as I write this blog post today.

And while this weekend was heartbreaking, we know we'll see you again one day. And when I do see you again, rest assured that we'll go over everything we missed out on. All the Glee, all the Blair Waldorf. We'll have eternity to discuss it all.

My dear friend, I will simply say that, I love you. From the bottom of my heart. Our five-year friendship touched my heart from the day we first met. And for the rest of my life, I will never, ever forget you. May you rest in peace.

"May The Lord bless you and keep you.
May the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you.
May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace."
- Numbers 6:24

"Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose."
- The Wonder Years

"Don't be dismayed by good-byes. A farewell is necessary before you can meet again. And meeting again after moments or a lifetime is certain for those who are friends."
- Richard Bach

The Convenience Store That Rips You Off & The Convenience Store That Saved Me

2011-03-24T21:13:00.016-04:00

Okay. Let me tell you about my day. From 10:00 am to 4:00 pm, I sat at the library. From 4:30 pm to 5:30 pm, I went to TA my tutorial. From 5:30 pm to 8:00 pm, I sat at the library. Again. So, let's review. That's about nine long hours spent at the library today.

This Elections essay is taking over my life.

My knee is numb from sitting too long, and I'm so exhausted. Plus, as I stumbled out the library this evening, I realized that the last time I ate was at 12:00 pm today.

Yeah. I forgot to eat.

So, obviously, after trudging out the library, I was both tired and starving. But since I've been living at the library the past two weeks, I've barely had time to go to the grocery store. However, though I toyed with the idea of walking to Metro tonight, I was just too tired (read: lazy) to head all the way there.

So what's a tired grad student going to do for food? I thought I'd, you know, pick up something quick to cook at the local convenience store near the library, promising myself I'd start eating healthier next week.

THE CONVENIENCE STORE THAT RIPS YOU OFF

So have you guys been there? That Campus Variety Store at the corner of Earl Street and Albert Street? You haven't? Oh, that's okay. Don't go there. No, believe me, don't go there.

I hadn't checked out this convenience store all year, but resigned and tired, I fully expected items to be slightly overpriced because, well, it's a convenience store located right at the heart of the Student Ghetto. But, for the reasons outlined above, I couldn't go to a real grocery store. So I thought I'd suck it up, and get something to eat quick, as I didn't think prices would be that unreasonable.

I guessed wrong.

I walked down the first aisle, and the first indication of beyond overpriced food came when I glanced at a package of Catelli Smart pasta and saw it priced at $5.99.

What?!? That's $1.99 at Food Basics, yo!

I walked to the meat section to see how much their chicken was.

Yeah. A box of, like 10 chicken strips was priced at $12.99.

What?!? That's $7.99 at Food Basics!

I can't even.... yeah. No. I left. Right away. Why are you ripping students off, Campus Variety? Why?! I was indignant. I couldn't believe how overpriced the items were. And for students?! Who will inevitably need this food the most?

I cannot comprehend the absurdity.

THE CONVENIENCE STORE THAT SAVED MY DAY

Yet as I down Johnson Street, I realized my indignation still left me starving. Hungry. I was so very, very exhausted and hungry. I needed to cook and eat something, quick.

Then I remembered a convenience store that my housemates had mentioned earlier in the year. One that they said was relatively cheap because it was situated beyond the Ghetto. I wasn't too far away, so, off I walked, to the tiny little convenience store at the corner of Brock Street and Nelson Street.

It is, aptly, named Convenience Store.

I walked in, surprised to see how absolutely tiny it was. I'd never been inside. Looking around, I spotted an older Asian man waving at me, calling out a cheerful, "Good evening!"

Except. It was weird. He said "good evening" like a song. I mean, he said it like, "Good EEEV-neeeng!" Dragging out the syllables in a sing-songy manner, complete with high and low octaves. I can't even explain how weird and funny it was.

No, seriously. It was hilarious. Convenience Store is owned by the most quirky Singing Korean Man.

So, in a hurry, I headed down the meat aisle and found fresh sausages at an extremely reasonable price. My housemates were right about this place, I was so pleased.

And here, came the best part of my convenience store quest.

Because, well, Singing Korean Man kept singing as he rang up my purchase.

"ArEE yoUU ChiNEESEE?" he sang, jumping from higher and lower octaves.

Confused, yet amused, I replied I wasn't.

Pointing to himself, he sang, "I aMMMM KorEEEEEan!"

Nodding in excitement, I replied, "Really?! I watch your dramas all the time!"

"YoUUU watCHHH KorEEEEan drAAAmas?" Singing his heart out, he paused from putting my sausages in a bag and lifted his laptop from under the cash counter.

Oh, it was epic. Because, well, Singing Korean Man was, hilariously, watching a Korean drama on his laptop while he waited for customers. He was, of course, singing along with the Korean pop song blaring out of his speakers.

"Wow!" I enthused, "That's a good drama you're watching!"

"Thank Youuuuuu!" he handed me my sausages, "Gooood NIIIIGHT!"

Oh, my gosh. He was hilarious.

SO THE MORALS OF TODAY'S STORIES?
1. Don't forget to eat.
2. Campus College Variety is overpriced.
3. And Singing Korean Man who owns the Convenience Store on Brock Street is too awesome beyond words.

Go buy something and listen to him sing you a conversation! Go do it! It will be epic.

He will make your life. Just like he made my day.

Thanks for the cheap food and entertainment after a long, long, tiring day, Singing Korean Man! I will be back!

"Friendship is the glue that keeps our lives together, especially when it feels as if everything is falling apart."

"If there is ever a tomorrow when we are not together, there is something you must always remember: you are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem and smarter than you think, but most important of all, even if we are apart, I'll always be with you."
- Christopher Robin to Winnie The Pooh

A Message For A Past TA - From A Former Student, With Appreciation

2011-03-23T16:58:00.030-04:00

John Travolta? In Grease? Anyone?
Ever had a TA who made an academic difference? So helpful, beyond measure?

FIVE YEARS AGO...

In my second year at UofT, I had to take a required Political Theory course. And I did. POL200 wasn't bad. Actually, I loved it. My professor, Mark Lippincott, was fantastic, and made me love theory more than I thought I would (this was a pretty big deal, since I wasn't a fan of theory to begin with).

Anyway, as with almost all my classes at UofT, because we had a class of about 400 students, we had to attend smaller tutorial groups to discuss the material. But, the thing is, POL200 was funny in regards to tutorial groups.

Because, well, tutorial attendance wasn't mandatory.

I know, right? So that meant I didn't have to go, right?

Call me a nerd. Bring it. Because, heck yeah, I still attended.

Um. I wanted to learn.

Anyway, on that first day of tutorial, I stood around the entrance, and thought it was weird that no one was standing outside the tutorial room. Usually, we're all standing around awkwardly for the previous class to vacate the room. Well, anyway, once they did, I walked inside, sat down, looked around the humongous tutorial room, and thought it was weird that the room was totally empty.

A couple of minutes later, though, a guy walked in. And sat down. Nodded at me in acknowledgement. But said nothing.

We sat there in silence for, like, 15 minutes.

You guys, I'm telling you, sitting in silence with a total stranger in an empty, enclosed space is so awkward. So awkward. It's a situation that begs for at least some small-talk.

Plus, I stare a lot. And I stared at him in fascination for a really long time (more than I usually do), because, well, he looked really familiar to me. And I mean really familiar. I couldn't figure out why I thought I knew him.

But then it hit me. Drawing on my penchant for finding people's celebrity dopplegangers, I realized that's what he was. He looked like John Travolta, circa 1978, in Grease. Yeah, really. Only he was Greek. He had the black leather jacket and white t-shirt down, complete with abnormally tight, high-waisted jeans.

Uh. Hot?

No. No, no, no.

After ten minuets of awkward silence, I thought I'd break the ice and make conversation.

"Sooo... you're in POL200, huh? What year are you in?" I started hesitantly, glancing at my watch, "And wow, our TA is really late!"

"Actually, I'm a Masters student," he replied, "And I'm, um, your TA. I'm not late at all."

Oh. Foot, meet mouth. It all made sense now. Leather-Jacket-Too-Much-Cologne-Greek-Neo-Travolta was my Political Theory TA. Fantastic. This was coming along really well! Remind me again why I decided to attend a non-mandatory tutorial?

I think he felt bad about the awkward silence. But, in truth, I realized the silence was awkward because, well, he was a little socially awkward himself. I don't think he knew how to make small time! And, well, his own conversation starter wasn't any better than mine.

"So, uh, while we wait for more people to show up... how was your weekend?" Greek NeoTravolta TA (can we just call him GNTTA?) asked, "I, uh, got really drunk at a Greek wedding. Like, it was an all-weekend wedding. I may still be hungover."

What?! Oh. TMI, GNTTA. But thanks for sharing. You were at a Greek wedding? Did it, per chance, look like this?

After a few minutes, it became apparent that, you know, no one else was showing up.

And, yeah. So there you have it. Story of my second year at UofT. I was the only one who ever showed up for my POL200 tutorial. ALL SEMESTER. And they say UofT has huge class sizes? Pffft.

Anyway, needless to say, tutorial with GNTTA was more of a tutoring session than an actual tutorial. No one ever came to class. And so, all semester, GNNTA patiently explained everything there was to know about Plato, Machiavelli, Hobbes. You know, the basics. He explained everything so well, and I'm was glad I got the run-down on Plato's Republic before, you know, the paper was due, and, well, I'd only read half the book.

On top of his awesome theory knowledge, though, GNNTA gave some pretty good academic advice. Which is why I'm writing this blog post today. He was, despite the social awkwardness and questionable choice of wardrobe, a good TA. I told him about my fear of public speaking, and therefore, why I hated participating in my other class tutorials (even though some participation marks were a massive 20%)! And why I was relieved I didn't have to engage in public speaking in his particular tutorial. Because, well, no one was there.

After this admission, I vividly remember him saying the following words on our very last tutorial:

"Why are you so scared about public speaking? And tutorial discussion? Don't doubt your intelligence. You know, I had that same problem in undergrad. And my TA back then gave me this advice. I'll pass it on to you: don't ever underestimate yourself. Don't be afraid to talk in front of others. Be confident. If you act confident, no one will ever know how scared you are."

FAST FORWARD, FIVE YEARS LATER.

I'm now a TA at Queen's.

I still hate public speaking. But I've learned to live with it.

And the other day, during my office hours, a student came in, knocking hesitantly.

After a brief chat, I realized that my student was, essentially, Mini-Me. Scared of public speaking. Scared of talking in front of other people.

And at that moment, I remembered GNTTA. And repeated those same words he said to me:

"Why are you so scared about public speaking? And tutorial discussion? Don't doubt your intelligence. You know, I had that same problem in undergrad. And my TA back then gave me this advice. I'll pass it on to you: don't ever underestimate yourself. Don't be afraid to talk in front of others. Be confident. If you act confident, no one will ever know how scared you are."

From GNNTA's former TA, to GNNTA, to me, to my student. That advice has been passed down, my friends. It might be simple advice. But it's a powerful, encouraging message for those of us suffering from that ever-present fear whenever we face the task of speaking in public, whether it's tutorial discussion or a huge presentation.

AND SO, GNNTA...

And so, GNNTA, I don't know where you are today. After that POL200 exam, you booked the heck out of that exam room for a flight out to Greece. You were a funny little fellow.

But, I'd just like to let you know that, you were a great TA. Beyond the high-waisted Travolta jeans, you were awesome. You were patient with explaining content, and, contrary to many of my TAs in undergrad, you actually made sense. You helped me understand political theory. For that, you deserve praise.

More importantly, however, I'd like you to know that you helped out a student more than you could possibly know. I still remember your advice about public speaking, particularly on the days where seminars scare me beyond measure and I want nothing but to keep my mouth shut and hide.

You made a difference with this student, GNNTA. Your advice was more helpful than you know. You will probably never know this, but regardless, I'd like to recognize you. For helping me out, I thank you.

With Appreciation,

A Former Student

"Everyone who has ever taken a shower has an idea. It's the person who gets out of the shower, dries off and does something about it who makes a difference."
- Nolan Bushnell

"Millions saw the apple fall, but Newton was the one who asked why."
- Bernard Baruch

"Leaders must be close enough to relate to others, but far enough ahead to motivate them."
- John C. Maxwell

When We Grow Up... What's Our Second Choice?!

2011-03-22T22:14:00.022-04:00

I have a huge Elections paper due next week.

And yet, I just spent two hours reading up on Christiane Amanpour and Campbell Brown. Clearly, I am procrastinating. And yet clearly, they're both fascinating women.

Which led me think of the following question: if we hadn't chosen the education and career path we are on now, what would we be doing? What was our second choice?

I don't mean to go all Rory Gilmore on you guys, but I think, if I wasn't on my way to law school in September (or if I ever, for any reason, had to change my mind), I would have loved to go into broadcast journalism or, better yet, investigative journalism. Reporting? Investigating? Writing? I would have loved all of that.

Also, I'm nosy. So anything remotely related to investigative journalism would have been, well, sort of... fun. Reading about Christiane Amanpour reminded me how much I used to debate about going into journalism. Maybe I could still do both? Lawyer turned journalist? It could happen in twenty years, right? We'll see, friends, we'll see!

So here's another million dollar question: if you had to change your mind about where you are (career and education-wise) today, what would you be doing? What would that second-choice-career be?

You're in academia studying a specialized field these days. But if you had to take a different path would you...

Be a scientist?

An astronaut?

A writer?

A shoe designer?

The next Bill Gates?

The next person to steal from Bill Gates? (Hey. Crooks are people too).

A figure skater?

A chef?

A restaurant owner? (Uh. If you any of you choose this option, can you.. um.. let me know?)

A doctor?

A wedding planner? (Two words. Jennifer. Lopez).

A nurse?

A gossip columnist? (This would be third on my list. No lie).

A game show host?

A video game designer? (I know about ten boys who would want this career in a heartbeat!).

A video game tester? (Ditto. And yes, this is a career)

A rock star? (Hey. The Bieeeeebz did it. So can you).

I guess the most important thing is that we love what we're doing, yeah? And that we have the option to change our minds, to switch paths, to go back to school, when we're ready to move on? My point is that we all have a diverse set of skills, of interests. I don't think we should be afraid to explore new options when we think we're ready. When we doubt our current situation. When we start to think our careers are going nowhere. When we're not sure we love what we're doing anymore. Don't be afraid to try new things! As long as we love what we're doing, that's what counts, yes?

And, yeah. That Lawyer-Turned-Journalist-And-Gossip-Columnist-On-The-Side option? You better believe that's still an option for me. Perez, you better watch your back.

"The real art of conversation is not only to say the right thing at the right place, but to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment."
- Dorothy Nevill

The Quarter Life Crisis - Do We All Go Through It?

2011-03-21T19:54:00.025-04:00

It's funny. I don't think I've met a single person my age who hasn't gone through a quarter life crisis. Or at least a mild version of the quarter life crisis. Is this a sign of getting old? Uh, I hope not.

For a definition of the quarter life crisis, click here.
For those who don't know what to do with their lives, click here and here.

The other day, while catching up with a friend who recently moved to Toronto for a new job, I asked that million dollar question.

"Hey," I asked suddenly, "Have you ever gone through a quarter life crisis?"

Without missing a beat, he replied, "Yeah, of course. I just got over mine."

"Really?!" I asked incredulously, "How'd you get over it?"

"Oh, you know. It passes. I got a job," he replied casually, "Mine was pretty bad though. I didn't have a job and I didn't know what to do with my life. So I almost bought a motorcycle. I just wanted to, you know, feel young and in control again."

Young and in control again? He's 23!

What is the Quarter Life Crisis? Here's an excerpt from an article I recently read:

"This phenomenon, known as the “Quarterlife Crisis,” is... unrelenting indecision, isolation, confusion and anxiety about working, relationships and direction is reported by people in their mid-twenties to early thirties who are usually urban, middle class and well-educated; those who should be able to capitalize on their youth, unparalleled freedom and free-for-all individuation. They can’t make any decisions, because they don’t know what they want, and they don’t know what they want because they don’t know who they are."
- Welcome To Your Quarter Life Crisis

The month before I graduated university last year, I was so uncertain about where my life was going that I felt queasy at the thought of graduation. I, quite literally, thought my life was over. I was undecided about taking a year off after graduation. I hadn't written the LSAT yet. I hadn't applied to law school yet. I hadn't applied for graduate school yet. I didn't have a job lined up for the year after graduation yet. In short, my life was in limbo. I had absolutely no idea what to do with my life. Or my degree. Like, what was I doing to do with a Political Science degree?! And if there was ever a time in my life that I doubted going to law school, it was the months leading up to graduation.

A month before graduation, I remember my friends and I sitting at our local Starbucks in desolation. Here we were. Women in our early 20's. Educated. About to graduate university. And having absolutely no idea where our lives were going. Many of our friends were getting engaged, getting married. Other friends were interviewing for jobs, applying for internships. And yet, while we knew all those opportunities sounded awesome, we didn't know what we wanted. While we had doors open to us, we didn't know which doors to walk into.

Most importantly, we didn't want to grow up.

School had always been an unknown yet reliable comfort. It's where we went every day for the past fourteen years. And suddenly, those days were coming to an end. Worse yet, things weren't going according to The Plan we had for post-graduation. You know, going to law school, grad school, medical school, journalism school, volunteering abroad, teaching abroad. We used to have our lives planned out. But by the time university graduation rolled around, things weren't going according to The Plan.

In short, the unknown scared us. Not knowing where we would be next year scared us. And for a number of graduating students, that's a prevalent yet completely normal fear.

This all defines the Quarter Life Crisis, my dear friends. Facing the fact that you're growing up can be hard. And it's a big deal.

If those feelings of uncertainty, fear, lack of direction about the big, bad, future sound familiar, I assure you, I can relate. Yet for those of you going through this early-twenties-quarter-life-crisis right now, please take heart. I know that uncertainty over your future is a huge deal. In fact, it's a big deal. But the assurance I can provide is this: the uncertainty will pass. The future will come sooner or later, and come a few months, you'll start making decisions that form what your future will look like. Not knowing will soon becoming knowing. Does that make sense? One day, this time in ~life limbo~ will be a distant memory.

We all have big decisions to make in the next few months. Decisions that will shape our futures. Our lives, forever. And if there's anything I can say to encourage all of us who are uncertain about our time post-Queen's, it's this: you are all so very capable of doing more than you think you can. Don't ever place limits on your capabilities, on possibilities for next year. We're young, we have big, bright futures ahead of us. Yet achieving those opportunities won't come if we aren't confident about ourselves.

You are all bright, intelligent, wonderful people. And that big and scary future is there for you to conquer. I have no doubt that you'll kick this Quarter Life Crisis where it hurts, yea?

"Begin each day as if it were on purpose."
- Hitch

"Have patience with all things. But first of all, with yourself."
- St. Francis de Sales

"Time comes to us softly, slowly. It sits beside us for a while. Then, long before we are ready, it moves on."
- Jacqueline Woodson

Why I Love The Library - Stories About My Familiar Strangers

2011-03-19T16:16:00.060-04:00

This is me. Spying on you at the library,
Do you ever go to certain places so often that you begin to recognize the people who also regularly frequent that location? You don't know them. But you sort of do.

I have a name for these people. These are my Familiar Strangers at Queen's. Also, a disclaimer for this post: I'm really not creepy. I just, you know, observe people. A lot.

So, a couple of months ago, I decided I didn't like studying at Stauffer. Too noisy. Too many chances of running into my students. So I relocated to studying at another library on campus. And, I'm telling you, I fell in love.

So much love for this library that I'm there everyday. It's the perfect study spot. Not a day goes by that I don't spend at least 5 hours at my usual table, writing essays, reading. And so, when you're at the library everyday, you tend to familiarize yourself with the ~library regulars~. The people who spend just as much time there as you do (if not more). Enough that you can recognize each other on the street. Or at Starbucks. Or, you know, at the Grizzly Grill on Friday night.

So here, my friends, are just some stories about a couple of my Familiar Library Strangers. I don't know their names. I don't know where they're from. I don't know what year they're in. I just know that we see each other every single day, sitting at our usual tables at the library.

And after regularly spending hours at the library together, I'd like to think we're, you know, sort of friends (hehe).

STORY 1 - THE IVY LEAGUE POSER

The first time I discovered this library in December, I planted myself down at the nearest table, and looked around in satisfaction. I liked it. I loved the quiet. I loved the atmosphere. The study hall wasn't too big, but it wasn't too small that I felt pangs of claustrophobia.

Glancing over at another table, my eyebrows raised as I checked out a guy wearing a Harvard University sweater, decked out in crimson and gray. Janice and I watched him in fascination, wondering if he had gone to Harvard for his undergraduate degree.

The next day, I was back at the library. Planting myself down at the same table (it has, indeed, become my usual spot), I glanced over to see Harvard Guy heading to a nearby table. No big deal, right?

Harvard Guy placed his backpack on the table and started to unzip his jacket.

Except, as he took off his jacket, I noticed something weird. Harvard Guy was now wearing a Columbia University sweater.

What?

I watched him curiously, in fascination. What's this guy's deal?

A few hours later, the library was getting pretty hot. It was an uncharacteristically warm winter day in Kingston that afternoon. So, naturally, what do you do when its hot? You take your sweater off.

Out of the corner of my eye, I discreetly watched Harvard/Columbia Guy slowly take his sweater off. Except I noticed something weirder.

Harvard/Columbia Guy was wearing a Princeton University t-shirt underneath his sweater.

WHAT?

LOL. Oh, love. Love him so much for all the the Ivy League Trying. Since then, Janice, Josephine and I have labelled him the Ivy league Poser. We don't know his name, what year he is. All we know is that, in our heart of hearts, he is the fantastically hilarious and endearing Ivy League Poser.

Now you see why I think the library is so amusing? This particular library isn't the depressing, desolate place libraries usually are. You make your own fun, yea?

STORY 2 - THE LIBRARY ASIAN

There's more where Ivy League Poser came from.

Like, for example. I think I've found my favourite Asian drama actor's doppleganger.

No, no, really.

A couple of months ago, I noticed that another library regular was an Asian guy who looked oddly familiar. I couldn't put my finger on why I thought I knew him. And so, day after day, I kept staring. Thinking that, you know, I would eventually figure out why he looked so familiar.

That's when it hit me.

He looked like a popular Korean pop-star-turned-drama-actor who, I admit, I'm a ridiculously major fan of. And when I'm a fan, my friends, I'm a fan. A delusional, crazed fangirl at that. Ever heard of him? His name is Rain.

I'm so much of a fangirl that, initially, I thought the guy at the library really was Rain.

And so, one day, as I was leaving the library, Korean Drama Pop Star opened the door for me, nodding in acknowledgement. (Because really, at this point, after seeing each other at the library everyday, you're bound to recognize each other). I nodded back cheerfully, wondering how, pray tell, I could bring up the topic of his doppleganger when I had never spoken to him before. I needed to figure out if he really was Rain. Or, better yet, maybe even related to Rain? (The resemblance is uncanny, I tell you).

And so, I glanced over at Janice and strategically raised my voice a little loudly to enthuse, "We spent so much time at the library today, we should go home and watch Korean music videos of Rain!"

Because I thought, you know, bringing up the topic would make him pause and talk to us.

However, Korean Drama Pop Star just looked at me oddly as he walked by. He didn't stop. Didn't give any indication that he was even remotely related to Rain. Aw, darn.

And so, since then, he's looked at me a little oddly. Like, you know, I'm That Asian Girl who just fell off the boat and watches Asian pop music videos in her spare time.

But don't worry, I'll set him straight one day. I will speak to Korean Drama Pop Star before the year is over to let him know I'm not an obsessive, crazy fan of Korean pop culture, I promise!

STORY 3 - BRADLEY COOPER AND HIS WIFE

Yeah, I'm creepy. We're creepy. But this doesn't make it any less fun.

There's a guy at the library everyday who looks like Bradley Cooper. No. I'm serious.

The first time Janice and I saw him, we were floored. Like, he could pass for Bradley Cooper's twin brother. We also noticed that he always studies with his wife. I'm thinking they're in the same program, in the same year.

There's really nothing else I can say about these two. Other than the fact that they're insanely, ridiculously cute together. They study together, eat together, spend 10 hours at the library together.

I think they may be newlyweds. Coopers, I wish you both a happy life.

STORY 4 - MY ENCOUNTER WITH LAGUNA

Readers, I'm sure you've all seen Laguna. He doesn't frequent the library I go to now, but he's a regular at Stauffer. You guys, this guy is a Stauffer legend. Everyone knows who he is! He spends his life at the library. And people stare at him in fascination because, well... he's Laguna.

Ever seen him? Queen's students have dubbed him Laguna of Laguna Beach. Because, you know, he only ever dresses in beach wear. You've seen him. You know you have. The Hollister t-shirts, the spiky hair he often (in a model-esque fashion) runs his hands through, abnormally large arm muscles he proudly displays as he wears abnormally small tank tops in the dead of winter.

You've seen this guy at Stauffer, trust me. He's, like, famous.

So a couple of weeks ago, at Zappas Lounge downtown, Josephine and I were giggling mercilessly when we realized we spotted Laguna across the dance floor. Except, suddenly, something weird happened.

Laguna and his posse crossed the dance floor and walked over to us.

They stopped in front of us and Laguna looked directly at me and said, "Hey, do you want to dance?"

We were waiting for a few friends, so I quickly replied, "No, it's okay!"

Laguna frowned. "Are you sure? This is a one-time offer."

Surprised, my lips twitched in laughter. "Yeah, I think I'm good," I said.

Laguna and his posse walked away. Confused. HAHAHA. I swear, those guys are a walking MTV reality show. Josephine and I died laughing. We couldn't believe we actually had a face-to-face encounter with the legendary Laguna.

Good thing I don't frequent Stauffer as much anymore. I have joined the ranks of those Who Have Rejected Laguna. I just hope I didn't offend him too much. I can still be his friend, yea? Because, like I said, he's a Stauffer legend. A legend!

So next time you're at the library...

...be aware that someone could be watching you! Not in a creepy way, of course. More like in a I-see-you-around-all-the-time-because-Kingston-is-so-small way.

There are way more Familiar Library Strangers that I can talk about. But this post is getting long. And I'm procrastinating from doing actual work. So the next time you're at the library, look around, observe. Get to know your Familiar Strangers! And keep in mind, there may be someone watching you too!

Oh, Kingston. Oh, Queen's community. You never fail to amuse me.

"For there is no friend like a sister in calm or stormy weather; to cheer one on the tedious way, to fetch one if one goes astray, to lift one if one totters down, to strengthen while one stands."
- Christina Rossetti

"Thus, nature has no love for solitude, and always leans, as it were, on some support; and the sweetest support is found in the most intimate friendship."
- Cicero

Living Through An Earthquake - Brief Thoughts On Japan

2011-03-18T19:23:00.024-04:00

When I was four years old, Mount Pinatubo, an active volcano in the Luzon region of the Philippines, erupted. Along with the eruption came a 7.8 magnitude earthquake that devastated a majority of localities in the Philippines, leaving 100,000 people homeless. It was the second largest volcanic eruption of the twentieth century.

I remember that earthquake quite vividly. I was too young to be scared, but curious enough to wander outside as my father ran after me, yelling in panic to get back inside.

I remember pausing curiously at the sight of my driveway cracking in half. I remember everything shaking violently, getting dizzy. I remember my father scooping me up, tersely handing me to my nanny, and being tucked safely in a closet under some sturdy shelves in an effort to protect me from any pending damage. Of course, I wasn't pleased at the time. Like, really, why am I in a closet? Are we going to play?

Clearly, I was too young to have any common sense. Little Barbara was also quite sad when, two days after the earthquake and volcano eruption, no one came to her 4th birthday party. A natural disaster deterred my little friends from RSVP-ing, you know?

I remember my mother getting home the night of the earthquake. Petrified. I remember hearing her recount the story of hiding underneath a table with other dentists in the clinic. I remember her telling us, her voice shaking, that she was treating a patient when the earthquake happened, when the volcano erupted. That the entire clinic was filled with screams of panic.

I remember my father tersely trying to contact his relatives in another region where the eruption had been particularly severe. Where the lava had wiped out the houses of many communities. Where my relatives, in an effort to save themselves, climbed on top of their damaged homes in order to wave at helicopters for help.

I remember that for weeks and months after the eruption and earthquake, I had to be led to my school bus everyday, slowly, very slowly. The volcanic ash was so thick. We couldn't see in front of us at all. Tons upon tons of sulfur dioxide was discharged into the atmosphere, making it difficult to see or breathe for months.

I remember the uncertainty, the fear. I remember my parents trying to figure out how to book the heck out of the Philippines (we left for Canada a year later). I remember it all so vividly, despite being very young.

Last Friday, on March 11, 2011, my heart dropped when I saw the headlines early that morning. That an 8.9 magnitude earthquake hit Japan. I can barely remember my own experience without feeling queasy; I can't even remotely imagine what people in Japan are feeling right now. It's more than an understatement to say that the situation is devastating, tragic. And how incredibly scary is it to still be feeling aftershocks?

I've looked through pictures of the damage in Japan with a heavy heart. Beyond rebuilding infrastructure, can you imagine what it's like for the people? At the individual level? What if your own home completely collapsed? All your belongings, your life's work, everything you own completely destroyed? What if you have absolutely nothing to eat but ramyun noodles you stored away for emergencies? What if you still can't find your family? What if you witnessed your own family members fall short of survival? I can't even imagine how devastating it must be for those who lost loved ones in the earthquake. To pick up the pieces of your life and attempt to put it back together without your family, your friends, is incredibly heartbreaking. The uncertainty and fear must still be so prevalent for them right now.

But what can we do? We're halfway around the world. We're grad students with our own busy schedules, our own things to worry about.

I can't think of anything else but to consider donating to relief efforts. So, dear readers, please consider donating to the Canadian Red Cross' Japan Earthquake relief efforts. I know we're all grad students on tight budgets at the moment, but please please consider donating even just a few dollars. Some people now have absolutely nothing to their name. What do they do now?

To visit the Red Cross website, PLEASE CLICK HERE.

"I have found the paradox that, if I love until it hurts, then there is no hurt, but only more love."
- Mother Teresa

"Everyone thinks of changing the world, but no one thinks of changing himself."
- Leo Nikolaevich Tolstoy

Racism - Brief Facts About Queen's

2011-03-18T14:53:00.017-04:00

Okay, so, it's definitely too sunny and beautiful outside to even remotely consider doing work. But, alas, I have to. There's too much to do, and as a result, I'm currently drowning my sorrows at the library with a delicious cookie (courtesy of Josephine) and a pile of readings that need to be read by tonight. I can't even think about the amount of work I need to do in the next couple of weeks. Too much. Too much.

And so, I am blogging. Because, clearly, I have my priorities straight.

But anyway, this should be a quick post. My officemate is writing a pretty interesting paper right now on the implications of gender, class, and race on getting a university education here at Queen's.

Interesting, right?

While hunting around for books at Stauffer this morning, Dear Officemate gave me a run-down on her research so far: quick historical facts about getting a Queen's education, specifically about race. Here's a few I thought I'd share.

Fact 1 - Carribean medical students were kicked out of Queen's Medical School in the 1960s, as students coming back from the war refused to attend school with coloured students.

Fact 2 - In the last seven years, fourteen faculty members of colour have quit. Why? For an example of racism against a faculty member, click here. A task force dealing with systematic racism against faculty members of colour was established in 2007.

Fact 3 - A majority of national studies on racism at Canadian universities cite Queen's as the primary example of racism against students at any Canadian university. On the basis of university policy and social atmosphere and acceptance.

Fact 4 - Did you guys know that Alfie's is named after a homeless coloured man who used to "live" outside the JDUC? Think about that when you get your dance on at the Alfie's area tonight!

Fact 5 - Just last year, Queen's issued a warning regarding racial vandalism of student property (graffiti with racial slurs). To read the the University's statement, click here.

These are just five of a number of facts (and, generally, evidence) that demonstrate how racism is still a potential problem in the Queen's community today. My officemate is still researching the topic, but interesting paper nonetheless, yea? I can't wait to read the paper in its entirety. Facts like these are always so fascinating, and I love it when writing a paper can actually be fun. Though I'll admit that in regards to the facts above, I'm not too surprised. So interesting. My paper on (the implications of class on the consumption of) cocaine now seems to pale in comparison.

Okay, so. Back to work. I only wrote this post in an effort to procrastinate.

Happy Weekend, everyone! Please have some fun for me while I camp out all weekend at the library.

"Affection is responsible for nine-tenths of whatever solid and durable happiness there is in our lives."
- C.S. Lewis

Debating Skydiving (On A Grad Student Budget)

2011-03-16T23:24:00.008-04:00

Over the summer, one of my best friends went skydiving. We all planned to meet at the skydiving centre that afternoon to watch her jump off the plane, but unfortunately, that was the day I had to drive to Kingston to sign my lease.

And so, I didn't get to watch her skydive. Boo. I remember it being a beautiful sunny day - the perfect day to jump off a plane, really. However, since then, I've seen the pictures. I've seen the videos. And the entire experience looks absolutely fantastic.

So this summer, we're all going to join her. We've been eagerly planning a day in August where we could all go skydiving together. I know, right? I'm excited, and, admittedly, a little petrified. But either way, despite knowing that I'll feel like puking the minute I step into that plane, I still want to go skydiving.

Just look at that picture above. What a surreal experience, right? Most of you who know me well are aware that I want to experience as many of these activities as possible before I enter the Real World of Work. Because realistically, am I ever going to have time to gallivant from activity to activity when I'm putting in 80 hours a week to pay off my law school loans in the future? Probably not.

Skydiving? It's right up my alley.

But here's the thing. I can only think of CONS when it comes to skydiving.

CON #1: It's $525. Um. That's a little.. uh.. steep for someone getting paid a mere TA salary here at Queen's. Expensive much?

CON #2: I might die. No, seriously. What if your parachute doesn't open?

CON #3: Did I mention that it's $525?

CON #4: My parents would keel over at the idea of their only daughter jumping out of an airplane. Yeah. Should I impose such unnecessary worries on my parents? (and extended family who will probably be just as worried and horrified?)

CON #5: Did I mention that it's $525?

CON #6: Did I mention my fear of heights? Yeah. I know. And I want to go skydiving. This equation doesn't make sense, does it? It's okay. Minor details. This fear of heights issue is something I need to get over. Like, I really need to get over my fear of heights. I'm thinking skydiving could be the antidote?

CON #7: Oh, yeah. It's $525.

Okay, so, in conclusion, skydiving is freaking expensive. And on a graduate student budget? I don't know if I can justify the cost. Which is really too bad, since it would be such an awesome experience.

On the other hand, skydiving isn't free. Ever. If I want to go someday, I'll have to pay that same amount regardless. So I might as well go ahead and sacrifice the cost for the experience now, right? Because, really, when am I ever going to have the chance to go skydiving for free? (Except when I fulfill that dream of being on The Amazing Race, obviously).

Dilemmas. Dilemmas.

I still have time to decide, so I suppose I'll hold off for awhile.

So the debate?

Experience vs. Cost.

Oh, money. This lowly grad student rolls her eyes at the cost of experience. It puts a downer on everything!

"Friendship is the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person, having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words."
- George Eliot

The Token Bad Day - A Grad Student's 24 Hours Of Terrible

2011-03-16T20:21:00.032-04:00

I suppose a post like this would have been written sooner or later. I'm surprised I haven't been inclined to write a similar post earlier.

Anyway. Remember my post yesterday about how fantastic this week was going? Scratch that. With the risk of sounding like I have a split personality (I really don't!), today was the exact opposite yesterday. Weather-wise. And, well, everything-wise.

I've realized that this blog gives off a false impression of a graduate student's life. And for this, dear readers, I am sorry. Because here's the thing. Contrary to the impressions I've been giving off the past few months, the grad life isn't perpetually strewn with rainbows and unicorns. Butterflies, ponies, kitties, chocolate covered almonds. Also, side note: why is my blog so, so pink? Annoying. (You see? I told you. Bad day).

But here's my point. The grad life is not easy. It might seem like common sense, but I feel the need to finally, explicitly admit it on this blog.

I can't stress enough that graduate school can, at times, be difficult. I walked past a group of little girls (okay, they weren't little. But you know what I mean) chatting in Mackintosh-Corry's cafeteria today, scoffing at how "easy" grad school would be next year.

Um. Hey, little girls. News flash. It isn't.

The grad life isn't easy. While it is predominantly a rewarding, awesome, fantastic experience, it's also incredibly challenging to juggle all your responsibilities, all your tasks, all your work.

The grad life can be uncertain. It can be tense. It can be stressful. It challenges your mind, your will, your emotions, your heart.

There are some days when you walk out of your office, out the building, into the library, only to sink down into the closest seat you plant your eyes on. You slump down, you wonder how you'll get all your work done in such a short amount of time. You bury your face in your hands and wonder what, pray tell, you're even doing in grad school. You can't do this. This is too freaking hard. This is really really really hard. I can't write all this. I can't read all this. I can't do this. I can't deal with all of this. You can't make me. I'm not cut out for this.

And you don't want to burst into tears because, you know, you're a big strong adult and all. But that's exactly how you feel. You feel like crying from the stress, from potential disappointment, from the omnipresent workload that haunts your every step.

For those landing on my blog as you research grad school, I want to warn you that you might get days like this (I say 'might' just in case some of you have supernatural superpowers). Days when the workload is overwhelming. Days when you doubt your competence, your intelligence, your skills. Days where you clutch your hair and wonder why you entered academia.

I guess today was mine.

And there are some days when your future isn't as dependable as you thought. You realize that some dreams might stay just that. Pipe dreams you can no longer depend on.

And it's days like this that can sometimes bring you down. Where the only thing that can cure your funk is a good night's sleep or a relaxing evening watching your favourite TV shows.

I don't mean to paint a picture of grad school as an excruciatingly painful experience. It's not. Bad days happen. And I suppose tomorrow, I'll visit my blog and gaze in horror at the negativity exuding from this blog post.

But tomorrow's another day. I'll let Future Barbara throw a tantrum at herself for writing such a depressing blog post. Right now, I'll rest on the fact (as should all of you experiencing the token Bad Day) that bad days pass. This will, really, pass. Worries will eventually go away. And it makes us appreciate the better, not-so-stressful days more, yea?

"Be polite to all, but intimate with few."
- Thomas Jefferson

"We all take different paths in life, but no matter where we go, we take a little bit of each other everywhere."
- Tim McGraw

A Sunny Spring Day In Kingston!

2011-03-15T10:23:00.014-04:00

This blog post has no purpose. Other than to waste time not doing work in my office.

Actually, wait, this post does have a purpose. I just want to briefly point out (before I head back to my readings) what a beautiful day it is today! Just look at it! Look outside! I don't see a cloud in the sky, and the weather is unusually warm for March. In Kingston. What happened to all the snow? Where? It melted? Well. Good riddance. Time to bust out the skirts, sandals, and shades, yes?

Ever have those days where the weather is just so fantastically beautiful that you end up in the most fantastic mood ever? Really, I'm more gleeful than usual. I don't know why, I really think it has to do with the sun. It's an unusually beautiful day in Kingston (well, unusual because of the months of dreary winter weather we've been having), and the spring-like weather has me in such a good mood.

It really is one of those days.

Anyway, I arrived at my office pretty early this morning, and the sun greeted me enthusiastically as soon as I stepped outside. Awesome. My office hours started at 9:00 am and will end at 11:00 am today, though I should probably stick around a few minutes after 11:00 am. The students are expected to pick up their essays during office hours (and extended office hours) this week, and I'm sure they're all anxious to get here. Fun. Actually, don't take that as sarcasm. I love it when students pick up their essays and realize they actually received a good mark or a better mark than they expected. The student who just left was almost in tears over her mark. Aw. You deserve the best, kid.

Okay, I should end here and stop procrastinating. I told you, this blog post had no meaning other than to tell you all that you should enjoy today's sunny awesomeness. Because it may rain tomorrow.

So here's the plan for today: finish Elections readings, finish a Canadian politics essay and then... tonight?

It's the JOEL PLASKETT CONCERT TONIGHT!

Sweet. What an awesome day ahead. It really is one of those awesomefantasticfeelgoodabouteverythinginlifesunnysunny kind of days. I would go and frolick in the sun but I have readings to do.

Have a great, fantastic, beautiful, awesome day, everyone!

"Through life, we suffer. With friends, we never have to suffer alone."

"Sometimes me think, 'What is friend?' And then me think... 'Friend is what last chocolate chip cookie is for.'"
- Cookie Monster

Concluding An Epic Dodgeball Season - The Last Game Of The Year

2011-03-14T20:51:00.016-04:00

Back in September, I blogged about how I joined Queen's SGPS Grad Student Intramural Dodgeball Team. While my first post about dodgeball wasn't the most positive, glowing review of our intramural league, I'm happy to report that our Fall and Winter seasons were incredibly entertaining, competitive, but most importantly... we had fun. It was, truly, quite the experience.

Okay. Well, granted, we lost every game we played this semester. Minor details.

Okay, fine. If we need to press the issue, I'll admit that we were That Team. The Team That Always Lost. But, moving on. Let's forget the measly details of actual competition. Let's get down to why, in retrospect, I'm so glad I joined dodgeball this year.

I was pretty skeptical about joining dodgeball back in September. Because really, have you met me? The only sports I've ever been good at involved a tennis racket or a pair of figure skates. Other than that, I've been merely serviceable at impromptu basketball games or softball games I participated (read: was coerced) in.

However, my perspective on sport changed when I played ball hockey regularly over the summer. Apparently, I have the capacity to get pretty aggressive, yo. Whipping around a stick to aggressively score goals? I absolutely loved it. And I will shamelessly announce that I was awesome at street hockey. Which is why I considered participating in some sort of contact sport this year.

Fast forward to this past Thursday evening. Our last dodgeball game of the year. Cue the tears. Cue the team hugs. Cue the whipping out of my camera to take team pictures.

We met at the Grad Club to participate in Thursday night's Trivia Night, broke bread (read: ate junk food), played pool, and attempted to answer trivia questions that downright confused us. And, not surprisingly, the boys of the team walked the amusing road towards inebriation with pitchers of alcoholic beverages.

Right before our dodgeball game.

Do you see where this is going?

Let's do the math. Teetering levels of sobriety and a sport that involves bombarding others with balls? Incredibly amusing, to say the least. Josephine and I, the only female members of the team, were highly entertained by watching our lovely team members frolicking under the influence. And so, our last game turned out to be quite epic. Choreographed dance numbers, Justin Beiber impersonations, piggyback rides as ball-throwing strategies.

And the dance numbers. Don't forget the dance numbers. Complete with throwback disco moves. Does this sound awesome or does this sound awesome?

We came to the game without any expectation of winning (and, really, who are we kidding, winning was a long shot for us). We headed to our last game together with the sole intention of having fun, and I'm glad that's how we ended our season. Such motivations defined our year together. Dodgeball hasn't only been a good workout, it's been an arena where I've met incredibly great friends. Where I've met grad students who I wouldn't have encountered if I hadn't joined the team. And most importantly, it's where I had fun, away from the piles of work that haunt me during the day.

I really encourage all of you to consider joining a sports team sometime, be it in school or in your community. It's not solely a competitive experience. It's also a social arena, where you build friendships, connect with a team, and experience the enjoyment of playing a sport that you may discover you actually enjoy.

But now, alas, the season has drawn to a close. I'm sad to say that's it for dodgeball. But here we are. Thank you, Dodgeball Team. You've been the greatest. I'm so glad I had the chance to meet every single one of you. I'm so glad I took the chance to experience this.

This has been, ultimately, another wonderful, memorable Queen's experience that I'll never forget, no matter where I am next year.

"You can’t hide from life. Eventually, you have to live it."

"Remember, we all stumble, every one of us. That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand."
- Emily Kimbrough

"Are you upset little friend? Have you been lying awake worrying? Well, dont worry. I'm here. The flood waters will recede. The famine will end. The sun will shine tomorrow. And I will always be here to take care of you."
- Charlie Brown to Snoopy

My (Tentative) New Love Affair With Sushi - A Lesson For Trying New Things

2011-03-08T14:01:00.024-05:00

Before I moved to Kingston, I never had sushi. Ever, in my life. I know right? Whenever I told people I'd never tried sushi, I always received the horrified, "But... you're Asian." It was my thing. I was the Girl Who Never Had Sushi.

And to this today, even as I write this blog post, I've only had sushi three times in my life. And all three times happened in Kingston. I've been told that I need to try sushi in Toronto. Apparently, it's a life-changing experience.

I don't know why I was so apprehensive about trying sushi. I'm usually not resistant to trying new things re: food. But sushi? I think it had to do with the seaweed factor. I hate the taste of seaweed. Once, my parents and I had to watch our neighbour's house for a couple of weeks while they were on vacation, and when they came back, they rang our doorbell with a ~box of cookies~ to thank us. Without reading the label (granted, it was in Chinese), I cracked open the lid and bit eagerly into one of the cookies. Guess what kind of cookies they were?

Seaweed cookies.

Ew. I thought I was eating, like, feet.

So last October, Tory and Belinda decided that enough was enough. We walked into Sima Sushi, located at Princess and Bagot. I was a little apprehensive, but I went anyway. And I'm really glad I did. I even came up with a way to eat sushi with minimal seaweed-to-taste bud contact. I'll just order the ones with the rice around the seaweed, so I won't have to taste it. BRILLIANT, right? Anyway, my sushi experience in Kingston has been pleasant to date. To the point that I'm actually really really growing to like it. Since October, I've been to Arisu Sushi on Princess and Division twice. It's an acquired taste, I guess.

Side Note: At Sima Sushi back in October, I ordered a plate of Avocado rolls (??) and that sushi type with fried sweet potato (??). I don't know what they're called. Yeah. I just totally butchered those names. I think they're types of California Rolls? Really, I have no idea. I think this is a sign that need to educate myself by consulting a sushi and sashimi glossary.

Side Note 2: Speaking of sashimi, I still haven't tried it. I'm a little apprehensive about eating raw fish. Let's review. It's raw. I think it will take awhile before I build up enough courage to try a bite. What does that even taste like?

And so, my friends, to end on a more positive note, I think this should be a lesson for trying new things. If you don't like it after the first try, fine. But at least you tried it.

There are many things, admittedly, that I've been apprehensive to try (or do) in Kingston and, let's admit it, in life. Like that complicated contraption at the gym that supposedly works out your abs, but I've been too chicken to touch it. Or like getting into a pool and learning how to swim beyond the standard doggy paddle. Or learning how to surf. Or paying the deposit to sky dive this summer because of my apprehension re: WHAT IF MY PARACHUTE DOESN'T OPEN? I WILL DIE.

This grad life is too short to spend being the perennial chicken I am with things I'm unfamiliar with. It's always refreshing to try new things. I'm 90% sure I'm leaving Canada for law school next year. I'll be in a foreign country, surrounded by people I don't know, in a city I know nothing about. I'll be trying new things everyday. Might as well stop being a chicken and start now, yea?

"Our lives begin to end the day we become silent about things that matter."
- Martin Luther King Jr.

"A cynical young person is almost the saddest sight to see. Because it means that he or she has gone from knowing nothing to believing in nothing."
- Maya Angelou

"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all."
- Oscar Wilde

I Will Never (Hopefully) Procrastinate Again... (Cross Your Fingers)

2011-03-07T20:29:00.009-05:00

I feel like this is a mantra I need to keep repeating to myself. Repeatedly. Over and over again. Why did I do this to myself? I never do this. Why now? Why?

I cannot even begin to explain how exhausted I am right now. I feel like I just ran a marathon. Or spent five hours at the gym. Or went through a life-changing crisis that required me to lose hours and hours of sleep. But really, none of this is true. I sheepishly admit that I lost hours of sleep merely because of my own procrastinating foolishness.

But I learned my lesson this weekend. I promise, I will never procrastinate again.

This all started during Reading Week when, in denial, I didn't mark as many student essays as I should have. I was enjoying my time at home, you see. And really, I was in denial about marking so many essays. I also didn't finish writing the 15 pages of my Elections essay that I should have written. I also didn't finish reading ahead for Canadian Politics. I also, most importantly, didn't finish editing my Canadian Politics critical review essay.

And now that Reading Week is over, I've been punished for my procrastinating ways. This past weekend was agonizing. Beyond anything I can explain in words. Actually, three words sum it up: I. Need. Sleep.

The Barbara of Reading Week was at home, spending time with friends and family, and, most importantly, sleeping in. She woke up every morning, glanced at her pile of work in disdain and walked past her desk.

"I'll let Future Barbara worry about that," she said dismissively, "I'll do it tomorrow."

Fail.

Major mistake.

I will never let Future Barbara worry again. Ever. Future Barbara cannot wake up with dark circles under her eyes after a mere 3 hours of sleep. Future Barbara cannot be a slave to caffeine. Future Barbara cannot suffer from sleep deprivation when she writes future blog posts. Yes, Future Barbara will continue to do her work days or weeks in advance.

I learned my lesson this weekend. I promise, Future Barbara, I will never procrastinate again.

I don't think I've ever been as stressed this year as I was this past weekend. To the point that I spent 8 hours at the law library on Friday, 8 hours at the law library on Saturday, and 6 hours at the law library on Sunday.

Um. I don't think that was healthy. I spent more time at the library than I did at my own house. Actually, I spent more time at the library this weekend than I did sleeping combined. Yes, let's review those numbers. This was a problem.

I don't know about you, but as the work began to pile up last week, on top of all the essays we had to mark, I started to panic. So overwhelmed, I felt like I was drowning. The sinking feeling you get when procrastination catches up to you is terrifying. This cannot happen again.

But I learned my lesson this weekend. I promise, Future Barbara, I will never procrastinate again.

Now that the weekend is over, I feel like I can breathe again. I finished reading 200 pages I was required to read. I finished marking 50 student essays. I finished writing a weekly reading response. I finished writing a paper. I finished an outline of another paper.

And now? I'm off to crawl to bed, relieved that this wretched weekend is over. And starting tomorrow, I'm doing my work days and weeks in advance. There is no way this is happening again. EVER!!

"There are a million ways to lose a work day, but not even a single way to get one back."
- Tom DeMarco and Timothy Lister

"The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, but wiser people so full of doubts."
- Bertrand Russell

6 More Weeks, Four Months Left (Until The End of Queen's)

2011-03-02T22:13:00.007-05:00

How did time go by so quickly? No, really. How? There are exactly 6 weeks left of classes for this term. And to put this into perspective (since I'll be, hopefully, done my Masters Research Paper in June) there are only four months left until I finish my Masters degree. Four months. Four months until I leave Kingston for good.

I don't know about you, but I've gotten extremely attached to this city. Who knows why, really. There's something so charming about Kingston that I've fallen head over heels in love with. And even though I complain incessantly about leaving home during my breaks, coming back to Kingston reminds me why I love it.

Oh, friends. My time in Kingston is almost over. And yet, I feel like I haven't done half the things I wanted to do in this city. There's still so much to do and see. And so, I've compiled a list of things I'd like to do in Kingston before I leave (on top of all my work, of course).

A KINGSTON TO-DO LIST BEFORE I LEAVE

1. Visit the Kingston Penitentiary. Because a tour of the local jail is free for all students. With your student card, of course. What's up.

2. Play squash at the ARC. Or just, you know, go to the ARC regularly for a period of time in general. Because I need to do something about this sedentary existence that is my life. And I also need to see the inside of the campus gym at some point during this degree.

3. Why haven't I ever been to Tir Nan Og? Like, ever? This needs to change.

4. Why haven't I ever been to Harper's Burgers? This also needs to change. Those burgers are rumoured to be life-changing. Mmmm. Succulent, mouth-watering beef. Come to me.

5. Take a Kingston Boat Tour. I don't exactly know how to do this. But my officemate keeps insisting that I go. And that I should perfectly time it so that I'm on the boat when the sun sets because it's apparently absolutely beautiful. How exciting. I should do this in June.

6. And since Kingston is in such close proximity to Ottawa and Montreal, why haven't I taken a weekend trip to either of these cities? I'd love to go to Ottawa for Canada Day. This needs to happen.

7. I want to make my last four months in Kingston count. And if that includes stuffing myself by trying out all the restaurants I wanted to visit in Kingston, then so be it. See: Niji Sushi, Copper Penny, Luke's.

8. Study at Douglas Library. In the Harry Potter Room. I still haven't been inside. I know, shame on me.

9. Take pictures along the lake in the spring. Or, better yet, fly a kite by the lake in the spring. I've seen people do this, and I want in. Also, I don't really walk around the lake area very much, so I should probably wander the area before I leave.

10. Carrot cake. The Sleepless Goat. Enough said.

There are probably more things to add to this list, but I'll leave it at that for now.

Oh, Kingston. I'm going to miss you when I leave. I'm going to try to make the most out of my last few months with you.

"In all affairs, it's a healthy thing now and then to hang a question mark on the things you have long taken for granted."
- Bertrand Russell

The Case for UK Law Schools - A Personal Dilemma

2011-03-02T20:09:00.017-05:00

As most of you know (since I never shut up about it), I visited Europe last summer and loved it. So much that I resolved to one day live there, even if it was just for a short period of time. Paris, I loved. But since I don't speak French, I can't foresee myself being there for anything related to education. But London, I loved just as much.

And that leads me to today's dilemma. Please excuse me. I'm about to ramble on for a bit. What else is new?

So, a couple of weeks ago, I blogged about recent law school acceptances I received. And so far, I've received acceptances from 2 schools in the United States and 2 schools in London, England.

Granted, I'm still waiting to hear back from a few other schools in Canada and the U.S., so I guess I'm prematurely stressing myself out (as I usually do). But here's the dilemma anyway.

When I applied to law school, I didn't realize how hard it would be to actually choose which one I should go to. I was just hoping against hope that I'd actually get in. Anywhere. But now that I'm faced with choices, I'm finding it increasingly difficult to choose between the offers I currently have. It's really hard. Cost-Benefit analysis, anyone?

Which brings me to this dilemma. I've heard conflicting reports about getting your law school education in London. On the face of it, there are so many cons. Examples: Extremely high (expensive) standards of living, expensive tuition, and most importantly, the process of coming back to Canada to write the NCA accreditation exam in order to practice here.

But then again, I know several people who attended law school in London, loved it, came back, wrote the NCA exams flawlessly, and found a job immediately, erasing their debts just a few years into employment.

On the other hand, the schools in the U.S. that I'm considering are just as reputable. And just as expensive. And a pretty large distance away from home. And it's a year longer than a degree from London.

Do you see my dilemma? Do you see? I don't know what to do. I really need to do a cost-benefit analysis. Stressful decisions, these. Am I crazy to think that law school in London isn't such a terrible idea? Is staying in North America the better choice?

I know I shouldn't seriously consider UK law schools in terms of practicality (do I really want to move halfway around the world for two years?), and I should probably consider the U.S. schools more seriously, but I still find the entire acceptance package from London extremely attractive. Am I crazy to think so? The term funding bewitched me, I tell you. Not to mention the actual experience of living in Europe. But that's my shallow side talking.

And so this is my dilemma, friends. As I continue to hear back from schools in the next two months, I'm sure I'll be ridden by even more bouts of anxiety. I can't wait until everything comes in and I can finally weigh all my choices properly.

Oh, life-changing decisions. I guess I should face it: I'm really, really not ready to be an adult yet. It's too hard, I tell you.

"I am determined to be cheerful and happy in whatever situation I may find myself. For I have learned that the greater part of our misery or unhappiness is determined not by our circumstance but by our disposition."
- Martha Washington

"There’ll be two dates on your tombstone and all your friends will read them. But all that is going to matter is that little dash between."
- Kevin Welch

Tim Hortons Roll Up The Rim - Am I Ever Going To Win?!

2011-03-01T20:32:00.017-05:00

Okay, so, true facts. When I was twelve years old, my dad and I were driving on the highway one evening in early March when one of those spectacularly random events unfolded right in front of us. It was, like, equivalent to money falling from the sky. Only this actually happened.

A huge truck drove past us when, suddenly, the tire swerved to avoid something on the highway. Except the swerve was pretty sharp and, stopping suddenly, the back door of the truck swiveled open and boxes upon boxes fell out. As tons of boxes toppled onto the highway, all of its contents fell out.

Guess what the boxes held?

Hundreds and hundreds of empty Tim Horton's Roll Up The Rim cups.

I know, right? All over the highway. Amazing.

You should have seen it. To this day, I still laugh when I think about the number of people who pulled over, stepped out, and ran around the highway frantically grabbing as many Roll Up The Rim cups as they could. People fought over the cups. People grabbed garbage bags from the trunk of their cars and proceeded to stuff Roll Up The Rim cups into the bags. Said garbage bags were also on the verge of exploding once all the cups were cleaned up. There were some pretty satisfied people stuffing those garbage bags into their trunks later that night.

Amazing. Amazing.

So did we participate in this venture? Obviously. Who are we kidding? I'm shameless when it comes to free stuff. I always have been. Even when I was twelve.

Anyway, we scored about 20 cups. Because we were slow. And because other people grabbing cups were maniacs. However, on to the more important question: guess what we won after rolling up the rim of all those cups? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Boo. What happened to the 1 in 6 chances to winning deal? With that many cups, we should have at least won a donut. Double boo.

However, despite never having won a Roll Up The Rim prize ever, I still secretly hope that one day, I'll win something. A donut, anything. I like the idea of breaking even with a purchase. Example: Hypothetically, I buy a Apple Cider, I roll up the rim, I win a coffee. I break even and get a drink for free! Woot. Awesome. Little things like ~breaking even~ and winning a donut excite me. Don't judge. There aren't many other exciting things going on in this grad life beyond schoolwork, you see.

Anyway, while it might be a meaningless chase, that quest to win something elusive is addictively fun. (I'm addicted to competition and winning. I don't know if it's an only child thing, but it's definitely why I joined dodgeball). And hey, it worked for Charlie on his quest to find that Golden Ticket, yes? I have such a weird fascination with that book. And I was so happy when he found that ticket. Please, I know I wasn't the only one emotionally invested in that search.

Have fun participating (if you choose) in yet another month of Roll Up The Rim! I wish all of you the best of chances in finding that elusive golden ticket! Something fun to look forward to in the midst of All. This. Work. Sad Face. I'm swamped with too much to do, are you?

Now, I'm off to worry in a corner about a major presentation I have tomorrow. Perhaps I'll need a Tim Horton's Apple Cider to calm my nerves (I'm jittery). Served in a Roll Up The Rim cup, obviously.

"Yet even in certain defeat, the courageous secretly cling to the belief that life is not merely a series of meaningless accidents or coincidences. But rather, it is a tapestry of events that culminate in an exquisite, sublime plan."
- Serendipity

“Ordinary riches can be stolen, real riches cannot. In your soul are infinitely precious things that cannot be taken from you.”
- Oscar Wilde

Reading Week: A Week of Highlights and Free Stuff (!!)

2011-02-24T22:25:00.009-05:00

It's only Thursday and I'm already echoing my sentiments from the end of Christmas break: I really really don't want to leave home. Reading Week has been too short. Too short. Too short. What am I going to do when (or if) I leave the country for law school next year? I won't be coming home for Reading Week. The thought boggles my mind.

After an eventful Coach bus ride to Toronto last Friday, spending much of my time making awkward conversation with my student who boarded the same bus I did (you read the right), I arrived in Toronto, lugging my suitcase (carrying all my students' essays for Reading Week marking) and monstrous backpack off the Coach bus, and happily skipped down Dundas Street towards Eaton Centre. Hey, at least I didn't have as many suitcases as the last time I came home, yea? Oh, the relief. I was so happy to be back in Toronto. Alicia met me by the Pickle Barrel and we happily stuffed ourselves for lunch to celebrate the beginning of Reading Week.

As soon as I got home on Friday night, however, I had to go straight to work. Reading Week hasn't been a walk in the park. I've had to work on a major presentation, work on 2 thirty-page papers, trudge through 300 pages of reading, and sit through marking at least 30 essays.

Boo. Oh well. Not even all that work could sour my mood. I'm just glad to be home.

However, Tuesday was a welcome break from all that work. And it was definitely one of the highlights of the week so far. Not only did I get to wander UofT's campus for the first time in a year, it was also a day of arbitrarily being handed free stuff. And everyone loves free stuff, right? Right??

So. Here's the story.

On Tuesday morning, I hopped on the GO train and headed to the University of Toronto campus to meet my officemate Janice. I had to pass along her 50 student essays ready for marking. I hadn't been on UofT's campus since I graduated a year ago, and I can't express on this blog how excited I was to visit campus. I'm a shameless nerd like that.

Because I'm a cheap grad student, I refused to pay $3.00 for the subway and walked to campus from Union Station instead. Oh, how I've missed walking through the P.A.T.H.! Oh, how I've missed walking down Yonge Street! Oh, how I've missed people-watching oblivious Bay Street workers fumbling away on their Crackberries. Oh, how I've missed walking through the city! Oh, how I've missed it all! (Sorry. It's the excitement. I'm really not this cheesy).

Yet walking to the Starbucks at the corner of St. George and College Street, I was a little taken aback. Ordering my usual tea latte, I was told I didn't have to pay for my drink. Bewildered, I glanced around suspiciusly, wondering if someone was pulling my own Starbucks experiment on me. But no, I received a free drink. For absolutely no reason. Awesome.

And so, I studied at Starbucks for awhile. I didn't have to meet Janice until 11:30 am, you see. But I was a little eager to get downtown, so I had arrived at UofT's campus, um, a little too early. After studying for awhile, I stood up, walked to the Starbucks barista to order a second drink. And yet, after I ordered, the barista refused to take my money. I received a free drink again. For absolutely no reason. I have no idea why or how. I couldn't believe my luck.

Free Starbucks drinks? Two of them? What!

So I skipped happily out of Starbucks, walked up St. George Street, and waited for Janice inside Robarts Library, marvelling at the familiarity. I've missed this campus so much. Yet as I sat by the first floor computers, I noticed a curious slip of paper peeking out from under the couch. Leaning over, I gaped in surprise to find a $10 bill.

Free Starbucks drinks? Free money? What!

So Janice and I spent the day studying, eating at a local Thai restaurant, wandering the halls of the Political Science department at Sidney Smith, stopping by the offices of our former professors. It was fantastic to be back, even if it was just for a few hours. I can't even explain how happy I was to see my old department. I spent four incredible years at UofT, and it was an honour to walk through Sidney Smith's 3rd Floor all over again.

Later that evening, sitting at a local Tim Horton's with Alicia and Mishal, I ordered a medium Hot Chocolate (I only ordered a medium so I could Roll Up The Rim) and one peanut butter cookie. When we reached our table, I opened my cookie package and found that I had been given two large cookies instead. An extra cookie? For free? Why? I never get anything for free!

Free Starbucks drinks? Free money? Free cookies? What!

Okay, so the free stuff was awesome. I'll admit it. Especially the free cookies. But beyond all the free stuff, I'm just so glad I had the chance to see my old department again. To wander the halls of my former buildings. To wander the city I love. To take in the familiarity of places I spent four years of my undergraduate experience in. And last but not least, I'm so glad I had the chance to spend parts of my week with friends. With family. With family friends. To drive around my beloved little suburb.

If there's anything Reading Week has taught me (other than the fact that I really enjoy free stuff! Woot!), it's the realization that wherever I'll be next year for law school, I'll miss home terribly. I'm almost certain that I'll be leaving the country in September, leaving home for three years. The thought boggles my mind.

Home is where your heart will always be, friends. Let's all enjoy and appreciate the time we have at home during our visits. The time flies by too fast.

"Home is a place not only of strong affections, but of entire unreserve; it is life's undress rehearsal, its backroom, its dressing room."- Harriet Beecher Stowe

“Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave,
and grow old wanting to get back to.”
- John Ed Pearce

Happy Reading Week (or Spring Break), Everyone!

2011-02-17T17:43:00.017-05:00

It's finally Reading Week. Finally. Finally. I leave Kingston tomorrow on a bus bound for Toronto, and I can't wait to come home and see everyone. Plus, it's Family Day weekend, so I'm sure my parents have a number of activities planned for us when I get back. And let's not forget the important part: I'll finally have the chance to gobble down some of my mother's cooking. Yum. Home-cooked meals. I've missed you!

Ah, home. I haven't been back since Christmas break, and I have to admit that, as much as I love Kingston, I've had several bouts of homesickness in the last couple of months. I can't wait to come home, I'm so, so excited.

Side Note: The picture above is misleading. No, I'm not going to Cuba. Or Mexico. Or anything quite that exciting. Because for Reading Week, I'll... actually be reading. Friends, I have so much to do over the break. It definitely won't be a holiday, to say the least. For instance, I'm not looking forward to lugging home 50 student essays to mark on top of all my work.

And so, for Reading Week, I foresee myself spending hours at UofT's Robarts Library next week to get some work done and to, let's face it, pretend I'm a UofT student again. Because I'm a nerd like that. And I miss it.

However, despite that miserable stack of work I'll be taking home, I'm still excited. Because I'm coming home! Home! Home for 11 days! No amount of work can take away this excitement!

I wish all of you a safe and wonderful Reading Week! Have lots of fun for me!

"Life is a ticket to the greatest show on earth."
- Martin H. Fischer

"Time is too slow for those who wait, too swift for those who fear, too long for those who grieve, too short for those who rejoice, but for those who love, time is eternity."
- Henry Van Dyke

The Day I Got Into Law School

2011-02-16T22:35:00.013-05:00

Yesterday started off like an ordinary day. Our students have a major essay due tomorrow, so I expected a whole slew of students to drop by my office hours yesterday morning. What possessed me to hold office hours at 9:00 am? Really? And indeed, my students did show up at that hour. It was pre-essay deadline mayhem, actually.

I wasn't expecting it to be a remarkable day. I was really tired. Exhausted. Sleep deprived. I had a presentation for Elections that I was writing and, honestly, I was counting down the days until I would leave Kingston for Reading Week. And yet, just like the old saying goes, when you least expect it, something remarkable does happen. Clutching my thermos full of caffeinated Chocolate Chili Chai tea (it sounds gross, but it really isn't), I flipped open my laptop, logged into my email, and paused in stunned silence.

I found an email with the subject line "(University Name) Offer Letter."

What. What. What. What.

I think I actually stopped breathing for a moment.

Cautiously, I opened the email, and the feeling that came after reading the first two paragraphs was indescribable. When you have worked towards something for almost a decade, when you have dreamed of a certain moment since you were twelve years old, when you decisively wrote in your eighth grade yearbook that you wanted to go to law school, the feeling of achieving that goal years and years later is initially one of numbing shock. And then absolute, utter delight. The kind of delight you feel when something so seemingly out of reach suddenly becomes yours. Twenty four hours later, I still can't describe it. All I know is that I was so incredibly happy.

Grabbing my keys, I rushed to Dianne's office, cautiously opened her door, and, stunned, I blurted out the words, "I got into law school." In absolute delight, we jumped up and down in her office for more than a few minutes. I absolutely could not believe it. Side Note: it was, of course, also the moment that my student arrived (very) early for her appointment and witnessed me giggling like a fool. Ah well.

The rest of the day was a blur. And just when I thought the day could not get better, I checked my email again that afternoon. And, lo and behold, I found a second Offer of Admission to yet another school of choice in the United States. I couldn't believe it. Another school I thought was so out of reach for me wasn't as unattainable as I believed it would be.

Twenty four hours later, I'm still in shock. After spending the last five hours at the QP celebrating, I'm now sitting here applying to the last two law schools on my list. I'm so excited that I can't concentrate on anything else. It's been such a fabulous week full of more surprises than I could have imagined.

Good things happen when we least expect it, yea? I began the week exhausted. Really, I was in a crummy crummy crummy mood. I thought Reading Week would never come. And yet, two days later, I'm elated. As grad students, we tend to get into a routine that leaves us exhausted, defeated, uncertain about the work we are doing. Let this blog post serve to encourage all of us that great surprises and opportunities are waiting for us just around the corner. So take heart!

I think we all have dreams of some sort. We may not all know what we want as a career, but I think we would all agree that we want to be happy with whatever we choose to do. As I went through middle school, high school, and university, I always knew what career would make me happy. Lawyers get a bad rep, but I don't have any doubts that this is something I would love to do for the rest of my life. I've watched and volunteered for enough lawyers to know that it's a job I want to have. I love the work, I love the reading, I love everything about it. And yet, the only obstacle always in my way was the extremely competitive process to enter law school. Last year, I'll admit that I was devastated when I wasn't accepted into the school of my choice. And yet, in the last two days, something that seemed so unattainable was suddenly handed to me.

For the rest of my life, I will never forget the day I got into law school. I've always thought about the moment when I would receive an acceptance letter. And it finally happened. I have no doubt that yesterday was a day that changed my life. Law school is still months away and there are still decisions to be made. And yet I can't wait for all of it to start!

And so, learning a lesson from my own uncertainties, I wish you, dear readers, all the best with finding and attaining that career, job, or program that will make you happy. Things may seem uncertain right now, but you never know what surprises are waiting for you around the corner. Let this blog post encourage all of you to pursue the career or program you want to get involved with. You are all capable of greatness. Of doing wonderful things for the country and the world we live in. And I have absolute faith in all of you.

"Some of the world's greatest feats were accomplished by people not smart enough to know they were impossible."
- Doug Larson

"We cannot all do great things, but we can do small things with great love."
- Mother Teresa

Confessions of a Former History Student: A Lecture By Norm Finklestein

2011-02-09T20:33:00.023-05:00

I've been neglecting this blog the last two weeks. And I'm sorry, dear friends. Truthfully, I've been swamped. Ever have those weeks where you feel like you need more hours in the day to complete everything you need to do? That's the thing. I have too much to do. And come this Thursday, I'll have stacks of essays to mark on top of all my work.

Boo. I need sleep. And perhaps a day off.

But, my friends. Despite this bleak introduction to a long-overdue blog post, I have some news that has the history fanatic in me hopping around in excitement.

It all started this morning. I rolled out of bed at 5:30 am, sighing over the fact that I would be in class from 8:30 am to 3:30 pm today. And so, exhausted, I walked to school. And I trudged up the stairs of Mackintosh-Corry Hall, wondering blearily whether I should have eaten more for breakfast. The most important meal of the day, you know? I went through class, walked to my next class, the usual.

Until, of course, I walked down the hall to purchase a snack. And I noticed a poster hanging by the 3rd floor hallway. Walking by, I did a double take.

The poster announced a lecture being given next week, February 15, at an auditorium on campus. The speaker? Norman Finklestein.

Oh. my. gosh. Be still my beating academic heart.

Friends, at that moment, I completely forgot about my exhaustion and stress. Norman Finklestein is coming to Kingston?!? Wow. I cannot believe I get to hear him lecture. I can't even begin to explain my excitement. Really, to put it bluntly, it's that can't-control-my-bladder excitement. You know what I mean.

Now, I know how unpopular Norman Finklestein is. The controversy? It isn't pretty. For a brief overview on who Norm Finklestein is, click here. Essentially, Finklestein is known in most circles as a major critic of what he calls the "Holocaust industry." In his book, he accuses the industry of manipulating the memory of the Holocaust for financial gain. He also believes that constant discussion of the Holocaust does nothing but promote a biased agenda based on Israeli interests.

Now, in my former life as an undergraduate student, my second major (aside from Political Science) was History. And I loved it. A few years ago, while taking Doris Bergen's phenomenal course on the history of the Holocaust at UofT, I decided to write a paper on Holocaust retribution efforts. It was here that I stumbled across Finklestein's well-known book The Holocaust Industry: Reflections on the Exploitation of Jewish Suffering. It's an extremely controversial book and has been the subject of extensive criticism. But it was also an extremely interesting read, and I remember spending months researching that topic, specifically looking at a lot of Finklestein's other work. It's absolutely fascinating from an academic perspective. To this day, that paper is still one of my favourite undergraduate projects.

Since his publication, Finklestein has been denied tenure at DePaul University, criticized extensively, denied entry into Israel, and received numerous death threats. He's an interesting academic. Controversial content but also a great speaker. Ingredients for an interesting lecture, yes?

Despite his controversial work and stance, I'm still pretty excited to see him lecture next week for the sheer interest of watching and listening to an academic I've had to read and study about extensively. As I said, I absolutely loved Doris Bergen's Holocaust course at UofT and, truthfully, I miss taking history courses. This will be such a refreshing change from my usual classes!

Have nothing to do on Tuesday, February 15? Check this event out!

WHO: Dr. Norm Finklestein
PRESENTING ON: Israel and Palestine: Past, Present and Future
WHERE: Queen's University - Etherington Auditorium
WHEN: February 15, 7:30 pm
COST: $10.00 with your Student ID (I can give up my Starbucks fix next week for this)

“In all things it is better to hope than to despair.”
- Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

"Life can be wildly tragic at times, and I've had my share. But whatever happens to you, you have to keep a slightly comic attitude. In the final analysis, you must not forget to laugh."
- Katharine Hepburn

Dear Kingston, I'm Not An International Student

2011-01-23T15:30:00.033-05:00

After an eventful evening at Zappas Lounge the other night, it took forever to hail a cab. Forever. I can't explain to all of you how excruciatingly cold it was. And so, resigned to the fact that it would take 20 minutes for a cab to arrive, we hurried into Mac's Convenience Store at the corner of Clarence Street and Ontario Street to warm up. Trust me, we needed warmth. Fast.

(Pretending) to look around for something to purchase, we wandered around until we caught sight of a girl watching us curiously. She didn't look that much older than us. In fact, if I had to guess, I`d say she was in her second year at Queen's.

Staring at us transfixed, the girl slowly walked forward, cocked her head to the side, eyes opened wide, and stopped directly in front of us to say the following:

"Oh my goodness, you girls look so... exotic looking. Are you international students?"

Hi. Martin Luther King Jr. just called. He wants a word with you.

At first, I didn't know how to react. Actually, I wandered off for a few minutes to giggle uncontrollably to myself before I went back. I know it wasn't a laughing matter, but I couldn't believe she was equating the colour of our skin to an automatic assumption that we were of the ~foreign visiting kind~

News Flash. Coloured people are born in Canada too!

She then continued with the following gem:

"Wow, your accents are really good. Where did you learn how to speak English? How do you like Canada? I know the weather isn't the greatest for ethnic people."

Oh, dear Superior One. You're incredibly perceptive. You're right, English was tough to learn for a yellow immigrant girl like me. Sometimes, I still pause during conversations to pull out my trusty English Dictionary. Lasting legacies of ESL class, you know? Don't worry, I'll do you proud and learn Western colloquialisms one day. Once I get over my inferiority complex over my thick Asian Chinese accent, of course. Also, I eat rice, perpetually use chopsticks as my primary utensil, constantly flash the peace sign in every picture, and scrub my skin with lemon juice every night so I could be as white as you.

Uh. In case you were wondering, that was sarcasm.

Back to my story. So after a few minutes, we realized that our cab would be at Mac's any minute. Thinking that the girl was out of earshot, my friend Shellane was confused. She didn`t know whether to be shocked or amused. Please, you don't get this treatment in Toronto. "She thinks we're international students because we look like this!" she marvelled in horror, pointing to her own skin. Yes, Shellane. She really did.

Okay, in all honesty, I wasn`t offended, really. I don`t think any of us were. We honestly didn`t know what to think. It`s not like we get this treatment often, particularly since we`re from Toronto. However, I suppose I can see where she`s coming from. Apart from the student community surrounding Queens` immediate area, Kingston isn`t the most diverse city out there. And, common sense speaking, what you don`t know or don`t see often can naturally, genuinely be perceived as foreign. Mind you, I`m not condoning behaviour that`s even borderline racist nor am I condoning ignorance. But I suppose, playing devil`s advocate, I understand where ignorance stems from, which is why I don`t think I was offended in the situation above. The lack of awareness, the lack of knowing still exists in smaller cities. And how can you know about something you don`t know about? You know what I mean?

It`s interesting when behaviour like this happens. I`m taking a Canadian Politics field course this semester, and the readings each week have all, in some way, touched on the idea of diversity and accommodating differences in Canada. I love the popular conception of Canada as a diverse, multicultural, cultural mosaic that recognizes and appreciates differences no matter where you end up in this country. But truthfully, while there are regions that reflect this cultural mosaic, others are beyond homogeneous. And it`s interesting to see differing approaches to diversity, even within my own province. But that`s just me rambling. I`m sure there`s more to this that I haven`t touched on, but I`m tired and I haven`t slept in a few days.

While some people perceive the numbers of immigrants in our country as a detriment, multiculturalism can also be our greatest strength. So let`s all be aware of our diverse backgrounds, hesitate when approaching stereotypes, and be sensitive and understanding of our differences, yes?

P.S. Oh, right. By the way, Kingston, for the millionth time, contrary to visual stereotypical indications, I'm not Chinese. I'm Filipino. Please learn the difference. Perhaps that'll stop you from approaching me at the Grizzly Grill with advances of "Chinese? Chinese? Ni Hao!" Also, I'm not a fan of sushi, fried shrimp, or anything remotely resembling seafood. Does that take care of all the Asian stereotypes?

“We all should know that diversity makes for a rich tapestry, and we must understand that all the threads of the tapestry are equal in value no matter what their color.”
- Maya Angelou

"Anger makes you smaller, while forgiveness forces you to grow beyond what you were."
- Cherie Carter-Scott

"Irony is when we smile at those we despise, and engage in bitter arguments with those we love dearly."

Second Semester At Queen's - Initial Thoughts

2011-01-19T16:14:00.020-05:00

After spending each day of Christmas break blogging, it's a bit of a change not having the time to blog regularly since school started. But, alas, work calls. And as the second week of classes for our second semester draws to a close, I've formed an early opinion of what this semester will look like.

I decided late last week which classes I would keep (shopping around for classes is serious business), and as I attended these classes for the second time today, I came to the conclusion that I made the right choices.

Yet despite my confidence that I've chosen courses that fit my interests best, I'll admit, I'm already drowning in work. In piles and piles and piles and piles of work. I wince at the thought of a research essay worth 70% of my mark. But, here's an admission I never thought I'd make.

(Sorry. I'm about to enthusiastically rave about school again).

I really don't mind this massive workload. In fact, to tell you all the truth, I'm excited about it. Mind you, I'm not thrilled to the depths of my soul about the thought of reading 500 pages a week on top of tutorial preparation, marking, essay research, MRP research, etcetera, etcetera. But I don't mind the workload because I know I'll enjoy what I'll be reading, what I'll be teaching, and most importantly, what I'll be researching.

And isn't doing what we like to do a blessing in itself?

And so, I'll make this second admission. I'll admit, my excitement about second semester is inextricably linked to my research topics this term. Don't laugh. I really, really like what I'm researching. So much that I've decided to share these topics with all of you. Hah.

It boggles my mind how how interesting, how absolutely fascinating these topics are. Research isn't just a tedious, tiring process about a topic you had to pick. When you find something you want to study, it becomes exciting. So fascinating. And exciting. And so, here I am, on the verge of beginning the research process. But I'm having a bit of trouble trying to figure out where to start (moreso for the first topic than the second). If anyone has any ideas, please let me know!

TOPIC 1: Cocaine
Okay, so. We've all had classes in undergrad that we notoriously labelled as that other course. The course we're taking for the sake of a credit, for the sake of a good mark, for the sake of taking just because of limited choices. Luckily, limited choices weren't an issue with me. And while two of my courses this semester focus largely on Canadian politics, my "third course" has proven to be surprisingly interesting and... different.

Forget the traditional research paper. Forget that argumentative, research-based formula you're so used to. Instead, get this. For this particular course, we have the pleasure of picking any product in Kingston and studying its production and consumption. Anything! Anything you can buy in Kingston!

Which product should I choose? I've been torn about my choice all week. I couldn't decide between tracking the production and consumption process of Canada Goose jackets (especially black market ones), illicit drugs (ex. marijuana and/or cocaine), or babies (specifically the adoption process and the costs incurred when becoming an adoptive parent).

I'm leaning towards cocaine. Studying it, I mean. Hah. From its growth and production in South America, to the organized crime groups that disperse it, to its arrival in different countries. To its consumption. Everywhere. Interesting, right? Delving deep into the implications of gender and class differences in the production and distribution of cocaine globally should be exciting. Exciting, I tell you!

TOPIC 2: Women, Politics, the Philippines
The Philippines and the United States both have presidential systems. Yet while the Philippines has already elected two female presidents, the United States hasn't. Why?

Since I was younger, I always wondered about this curious phenomenon. In a Southeast Asian country built on patriarchal, small c conservative norms, why has there been a prevalence of female political engagement and representation? I may have an inkling as to a possible answer. But I'm excited to find out other possible reasons. Interesting, right?

Okay, I'm done rambling about research topics now. But really, can you see why I'm so excited about second semester? Quite honestly, I couldn't have asked for better classes that give me the foundation to study these topics. Topping that off with fascinating studies in Canadian Politics, I'm drooling in love for academia. I know I was a bit harsh the other day in my critique of academics. But aside from that, this is what we love doing. And I'm so happy that we're all on the verge of finding topics that we're excited about. Here's to an awesome semester!

"It’s a funny thing coming home. Nothing changes. Everything looks the same, feels the same, even smells the same. You realize what’s changed, is you."
- The Curious Case of Benjamin Button

Confessions of A Jaded Grad Student - The World of Academia

2011-01-16T18:25:00.023-05:00

I probably won't gain many friends with this post. In fact, I'll probably get some disgruntled, annoyed comments or rebuttals on the complaints I have below. But frankly, I would rather have these comments hit the spot than have this behaviour continue without some kind of rebuke. Also, note this post's lack of an apologetic disclaimer. It was intentional.

This isn't the first time I've complained about pretentious academics. See: Complaint 1 and Complaint 2. It wasn't until recently, however, that I realized these complaints are moot. They're useless. Despite my hopes that attitudes can change, they don't. And so, I've decided to give up hoping. Why hang on to my idealistic conceptions of open-minded, kind academics when, really, there are too many who are otherwise?

I entered the world of academia with the hope that what I experienced this past summer (see blog posts linked above) were rare occurrences. That the irritatingly self-righteous individuals I met above were a minority among more open-minded, humble individuals I could learn from.

But I was wrong. And in retrospect, I should have seen it coming. I've come to realize that when people *know* things, they automatically think that their perspectives are the only way others should think. Now, I'd like to point out that I don't want to generalize these comments to all disciplines or to every single academic out there. Instead, I'd like to express my frustrations about behaviour that I see way too much of. It actually sickens me to see how many people hold themselves up on a pedestal when it comes to matters they think they're "experts" on.

There's nothing wrong with knowing things. With being intelligent. With having great ideas. In fact, I'm in awe of you and your knowledge. But there is something wrong with being self-righteous about your intelligence.

If there is anything this blog post would like to convey, it's this. No matter how high your GPA is, no matter how intelligent you think you are, you have no right to make fun of other individuals' political inclinations or opinions. You have no right to believe your way is the only way. Because if it was, we'd already know what world peace looks like. You have no right to roll your eyes at people you think are below you. You have no right to snipe about people you don't identify with. You have no right to provide backhanded insults on perspectives your disapprove of. You have no right to be disrespectful to people whose perspectives you don't share. You have no right to stop listening to people who you don't agree with. Here's a thought. How about listening to what people have to say for a change? Because while you may think that your own political perspectives are OMGTHEONLYWAYTOSAVETHEWORLD, here's a reality check. Even if you are the most brilliant mind in the world, no one will work with you if you behave like a close-minded, insulting, insensitive academic. Whatever happened to respectful academic discourse?

I've seen too much of this behaviour among those in academia, even during my time at UofT. And it's disheartening. And after hearing some of these people's comments, I actually want to puke.

How about a piece of humble pie, yea? And while this title dubs me as a jaded grad student, I'll end here on a positive note. I know academics can be good, kind, accepting people. I've met individuals here at Queen's who I've come to love, to adore, to call my friends. But there are others who don't understand this lesson: It isn't just about your ideas. It's about the type of person you are. Kindness and the ability to work well with other people is also important in your quest to learn about our world. How about excercising more of that positive behaviour?

On second thought, I take back my admission (above) to stop hoping. Instead, I'll leave you all with this last message of hope. Call me naive, but I'll hang on to the hope that we can learn from each other in a respectful, kind manner. That we can continue on with respectful, peaceful academic discourse free of negative sniping and backhanded insults. Because really, isn't that the ideal we're all hoping for?

"Intelligence should be like underwear. Everyone should have it, but no one should be showing it off."

The Asian Parent - Understanding The Behaviours & Motivations

2011-01-12T20:34:00.024-05:00

Disclaimer: If this blog post offends any of you, I apologize. It isn`t everyday that I step beyond my usual bounds of neutrality, but this topic has been a long time coming. Secondly, stereotypes discussed in this post do not, of course, apply to every single Asian parent. Instead, this post is directed to those that do exhibit these behaviours. Lastly, I don`t mean to racialize this behaviour. I`m merely focusing on the stereotype exhibited by a community I`ve grown up in, a community that I personally know.

A few months ago, towards the end of the summer, my mother came home fuming. She was so angry that you could see the smoke spewing out of her ears. That afternoon, she had spent the last few hours at a local tea shop, having afternoon tea with several friends. Unfortunately, their conversation wasn`t as pleasant as the venue they chose. In fact, their conversation was downright vile.

Casually, one of the women asked my mother what I would be doing in school this year. To which my mother responded the brief yadda-yadda-yadda about Queen`s. Done. You would think that would be the end of it, right? That my mother would, in turn, ask about the woman`s daughter. That the women would laugh pleasantly about how super awesome education is. No big deal, right?

Except this particular woman exhibited behaviour that annoys me the most. The behaviour that Asian parents are stereotypically known for. And so, while my mother had tea, this same woman began to complain about my education. For the next ten minutes, she told my mother, in front of several other women, how law school and grad school are the easiest programs to get into. She continued with the following gem:

"Why is your daughter going to law school? Oh my god, anyone can get into that. That`s such an easy program. Is she stupid? My daughter goes to Ryerson, and her program is so hard to get into. Why doesn`t your daughter go to Ryerson too? She isn`t very smart if she`s going to grad school."

Uh. What? Please tell that to the thousands upon thousands of students rejected from law school each year. How do you even respond to that? Awkward silence ensued.

At another function, my parents were chatting with several other parents. Jokingly, my mother teased another mother, asking if her son had a girlfriend yet (all in good fun, of course). No harm to joke about the romantic relationships of youth, right? Well, no. Defensively, the mother shook her head in disdain, responding with the greatest of all airs:

"My son is only 23. He doesn`t have a girlfriend because he`s actually focused on his goals."

Uh. What? So... you can`t be in a relationship and have goals? Are these two situations mutually exclusive? Are we in some parallel universe here? We later found out that her son did indeed have a girlfriend, his mother knew about her, but outright lied to everyone at this party. Why? Didn`t you know? A teenager who has a girlfriend or boyfriend is known to be someone who isn`t focused on being successful. The parents are, in turn, looked down on.

To really understand what went on in the scenarios above, I need to point out the following. For those who haven`t grown up in this kind of environment, let me say this in the most blunt language possible. The Asian community cares about image. This statement isn`t intended to sound pretentious. In fact, it`s as frank as I can get. While conservative values usually comprise the environment we`ve grown up in, there`s another dimension to the behaviours of the families and individuals who make up this community. You need to look good in front of other people. That`s the bottom line. Your kids need to be successful. Taking piano lessons. In a good school. Your kids need to have good grades or else the family looks bad. It`s a pretty big deal. In addition to all this, One Upper Parents can also exist. Parents who feel the need to brag a bit more to look better than another set of parents. It`s both complicated and simple to understand.

And so, while my mother came home angry that afternoon above, subsequently relaying the story to me while we ate dinner, I was most fascinated with the fact that, while she was a psycho, we understood why this woman acted the way she did.

To others, she would have come across as psychotic. But to us, she came across as a defender of a family she needs to protect and promote. Asian parents (and their children) are under tremendous pressure from their respective social circles, communities, and extended families. Your children need to be in university. To dress well. To have good grades. To be successful. To be beautiful. To advance towards a great career. The Filipino community in particular is notorious for this behaviour.

I understand why they do this, and while I don`t agree with their attitudes and behaviours, I can`t fault them for it. How can I? When it`s the type of behaviour and social perception this community has always known? I don`t agree with the way they behave. But I know why they do it. And I understand.

And while this entire blog post unsettles me, the main idea I`d like to get across is that there are implications of culture on the behaviours of generations upon generations of Asian families immigrating to Canada from different parts of the world. Culture matters (Wow. I sound like a Professor I had last semester. Those in Comparative Development know who I`m referring to). Different groups see the world from specific cultural lenses, and it affects their behaviour, the way they interact with others, and really, their way of life.

And while many who aren`t part of this community won`t understand the ideas I`ve discussed above, who may conceive these values as archaic, reactionary garbage, I would beg to differ. I understand where these people are coming from. And while we can`t change these attitudes right now, I have hope for future generations who don`t rely as much on cultural perceptions of the world to interact with others in their community. I have hope for my generation. But only time will tell if these hopes are futile.

"If only closed minds came with closed mouths."
- Nicole Aitoro

"Let no man pull you so low as to make you hate him."
- Booker T. Washington

Grad School Applications - Cash Grab Costs Yet Valuable Benefits

2011-01-10T21:01:00.025-05:00

Please give me a moment. I'm sitting in a corner drowning my sorrows in a bowl of ice cream. It may be the last one I'll be having for awhile. Horrified, I've created a list of all the things I'll have to give up this month. The harsh reality of potentially giving up my daily Starbucks intake is sinking in. Tragedy, oh the tragedy.

Why am I painting a picture so an bleak existence that even Starbucks isn't in it? It's January. And as a result, we're right in the middle of grad school and law school application season. And while we're all eager to write our personal statements raving about how we can save the world, something less exciting happens when we click Submit. We have to pay.

I've calculated that I'll be spending about $850 on law school applications this month. This includes the application fees, transcript fees to have my transcript printed with the university seals at both the University of Toronto and at Queen's, postage (especially for my international parcels), and other miscellaneous yet related expenses. This is, of course, on top of how much money has been spent on my law school endeavours this past year. The LSAT fees, the LSDAS application fees, grad school application fees last year, LSAT preparation fees, material fees. The list could go on. Law school and graduate school application fees have cost us so much money. And this is, of course, on top of the tuition we will be paying if we are accepted.

Dear University, I'm just a lowly Masters student. I'm not made of money, nor do I make much. I'd just like to be at peace with my daily London Fog, with food to eat, a good book to read, and the peace of mind knowing that I'll be attending law school in September. Is that really too much to ask?

Crawling to our parents to foot the bill can be one option when the going gets tough. But saddling the cost on people we're dependent on still leaves me unsettled. In principle, and in the name of independence, I'd really like to know why this entire process is so costly? Why do I need to pay almost $100 per law school I apply to? You read that correctly, that's per school. That's a month's worth of groceries for me. Clearly, I will be living off yogurt this month.

Why is it so expensive? Please. I sincerely want to know where my money is going.

Yet despite my complaints, I'd like to consider our dilemmas from another point of view.

Despite the bleak picture I've just painted for all of you (yes, again, that's almost $100 per law school), you can call me naive when I say that I'll accept this bleak reality with a hope and appreciation of what's to come. While many friends have dismissed grad school applications as an "ultimate cash grab" (and I don't deny that it is or might be), I'll choose to see it differently. In a more optimistic fashion.

I may be eating yogurt for the next month, but in the greater scheme of things, these hundreds of dollars invested are spent for good reason. Hundreds of dollars invested towards our futures, invested into applying for programs that can lead us to careers we'll enjoy and love. And at the end of the day, aren't these careers the reason we're applying in the first place?

I'm not saying that these costs are excusable or acceptable, but complaints aside (and I've complained a lot), we will be paying for these applications. Whether we like it or not. So let's make like optimistic pragmatists and turn our attentions away from the bleak realities of forking over the dinero. Let's realize that all this money will be worth it in the long run. Let's keep in mind that there are promising benefits to these costs.

It can be hard, but let's stay positive, my friends! Really, it'll do our heads and hearts more good to look at the more desirable, more satisfying aspects of our situation. Happy Applying!

"It's a funny thing about life. If you refuse to accept anything but the best, you very often get it."
- W. Somerset Maugham

Day 6 - Beloved Pets - The 30 Day Blog Challenge

2011-01-10T20:12:00.017-05:00

Day 6 of the 30 Day Blog Challenge requires me to discuss beloved pets. And yet, I can't do so without a heavy heart. Allow me to describe my tragic story.

THE 30 DAY BLOG CHALLENGE
Day 6 – A photo of an animal you'd like to keep as a pet

Yes, my friends. That is White Fang. Am I the only one who watched this cartoon when we were younger? I have yet to find someone who shares a love for this cartoon. The Legend of White Fang, created in 1992, was a cartoon that followed the adventures of a young girl who befriends a wolf-husky mix on Alaskan Klondike territory. Together, they explore the wilderness, and encounter many dangers along the way. But while danger perpetually existed, White Fang stuck to Wendy as her loyal follower, protector, and friend.

Seriously, such an awesome cartoon! I remember munching on my Wheaties every morning watching this show.

Friends, I had my own little White Fang... but not quite. When I was four years old, my parents brought home a bunny. I know, so cute, right? This picture is the closest I could find that resembled how she looked like. I loved her so much that I spent quite a long time deliberating on what to name her. After a few days, I aptly named her Bunny. Clearly, I was a creative child.

I absolutely loved Bunny, so much that I'd even sneak out little snacks to feed her when no one was looking. Apparently, my four-year old self had no idea that crackers wouldn't be the best snack to feed tiny Bunny. However, we soon learned something even more tragic. My Dad found it strange that Bunny never made a sound, and never seemed to move. Ever. After a quick visit to the vet, my parents broke the news. Bunny was mute, deaf, and blind. And after a few months, Bunny tragically passed away. It was a terrible day for my four-year old self. I didn't quite understand what happened to Bunny. All I knew was that she was gone. And I loved her.

And so, if I ever had to choose a pet to have, I'd be torn between two choices. A wolf-husky mix who sticks closer to me than a brother a la White Fang (clearly, my cartoon watching has left me with grand expectations about loyal huskies. Are there even such things as wolf-huskies in real life?). Or a pet that reminds me of my first Bunny love. Both options would be more than enough to satisfy me.

I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to be a depressing blog post. Forgive my walk down pet memory lane, my friends? Let's end on a happy note. Pet owners, please give your respective animals a huge, huge, huge hug for me. Please and thank you!

"Life is too ironic to fully understand. It takes sadness to know what happiness is. Noise to appreciate silence. And absence to value presence."

Back In Kingston - Excitement For A New Semester

2011-01-09T20:11:00.024-05:00

Skating, skating, skating!
As I write this blog post, I cannot feel my toes. Or my fingers, for that matter. And so, please forgive my poor grammar. Or any spelling errors that may occur as a result of my fingers' lack of mobility. Why am I semi-frozen, wrapped up in three layers of clothing, pulling on a third layer of socks, you ask? Let's backtrack a bit.

This morning, at the crazy hour of 7:30 am, my Coach bus departed from the Toronto bus terminal, en route to Kingston. Awesome. This meant that my parents and I had to leave our house by 6:15 am to ensure that we'd get there in time. Dragging myself out of bed this morning with barely four hours of sleep was not an easy task. And even the thought of hauling my monstrous suitcases home once I got to Kingston was enough to give me a mild migraine. And so, once the bus hit the Kingston terminal, I resolved to take a cab. And I did, arriving in Kingston bright and early this morning. Woot.

While I was super upset that the break went by so quickly, that I had to leave home when I really really didn't want to, I suppose being back isn't so bad. Why? Because arriving in Kingston has me excited about the following possibilities.

1) SOURCE OF EXCITEMENT #1: OH.MY.GOSH. It's a dream come true. As I walked to Starbucks this afternoon (after the nightmare of unpacking), I stopped in my tracks when I realized that there's a skating rink at Vic Park. What! What! A skating rink just a few blocks away from home? No way! And if that wasn't enough, it gets better. There's also a skating rink by city hall, just a few minutes away from campus!

I was so excited that I resolved to go skating every evening this week, even if it means skating alone. Yes, I'm crazy. But it's early in the term. Ergo, our work hasn't piled up yet. I should take advantage of this free time, no?

And so, I took a break from work this evening to go skating by city hall with my housemate. The good news? It isn't Nathan Phillips Square, but the rink is beautiful, and I loved it. The bad news? It was cold. Really, really, cold. And that is why I'm frozen in bed at the moment, lamenting the state of my frozen fingers and toes. Ah, well, enduring the weather was worth it. I'll just have to dress warmer next time.

I'm so happy that we have a skating rink just a few minutes away from home! I need to take advantage of how close it is. I'll just have have to, um, make sure I dress warmer next time. This I-think-I-may-have-frostbite business doesn't feel too great.

2) SOURCE OF EXCITEMENT #2: Tomorrow marks the first day of class, and I must say, I'm pretty excited about the course I'm attending tomorrow. Actually, I'm extremely excited about all my courses this semester. While there is a possibility that I may switch one course, I'm really satisfied with my schedule this semester (two days of class a week!), particularly since I'll be taking a course outside my department at the School of Policy Studies. So much new material to learn, so many interesting books and articles to read!

Okay, the books and readings part doesn't sound so appealing on paper (and I'm sure I'll be complaining about them later), but I'm so glad to have the opportunity to learn under some pretty awesome instructors, to learn material that I haven't had a chance to study before. It's going to be a great semester!

3) SOURCE OF EXCITEMENT #3: This is a really minor issue to get excited about. But I'm excited anyway. Many who know me are aware of my indescribable love for London Fogs. I perpetually crave tea lattes. And so, how excited was I to find out that, from January 7 - 16, Starbucks is having a 50% sale on ALL their tea lattes from 2:00 pm to 5:00 pm daily?

As if I wasn't at Starbucks enough before, I may now just have to live there.

There are so many things to be excited about. It's a semester of new classes, new classmates, new teachers, law school applications, and other memorable activities and events that I'm sure we'll all enjoy. While I initially wasn't happy to come back, in retrospect, I'm glad I'm here. Home will always have my heart, but I suppose Kingston can have a part of it too. New year, new semester, time to get excited!

"I said to my child, I will explain to you as much about life as I can, but you must remember that there is a part of life for which you are the explanation."
- Robert Braul

“The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live.”
- Flora Whittemore

“This is my wish for you: comfort on difficult days, smiles when sadness intrudes, laughter to kiss your lips, sunsets to warm your heart, hugs when spirits sag, beauty for your eyes to see, friendships to brighten your being, faith so that you can believe, confidence for when you doubt, courage to know yourself, patience to accept the truth. And love to complete your life.”

Packing For Kingston - The End of Christmas Break

2011-01-06T14:05:00.028-05:00

The usual packing situation. Sigh.
Friends, the end is near. The end of relaxation. The end of sleeping in. The end of doing absolutely nothing. The end of sweet, sweet stress-free bliss.

I guess I'm being a little dramatic. Okay, maybe a lot. But I thought I'd sit here and grudgingly write this blog post in acceptance of the fact that I'll be heading back to Kingston this weekend. Christmas break is almost over, and come Monday, it's back to class, back to the office, back to drowning myself in an insane amount of readings, back to the usual swing of things.

Boo. I don't want to go back.

And so, I'm dragging my feet, buying time before I have to grudgingly face the task of packing. I have a lot of stuff to bring back to Kingston, and I have no idea how I'll be lugging my monstrous suitcases from the Coach bus terminal to my Kingston home. In addition to winter gear, winter boots, and other necessary items (my skates!), my mother has decided to cook up a storm and will be sending me back to school with enough food to last me till June.

Okay, I'm exaggerating. But it's a lot of food. If nothing else, if I end up in a ditch somewhere in Kingston, trying to lug my suitcases home, at least I won't starve.

I've had such a fantastic Christmas break. My parents and I attended an awesome Christmas Eve party, enjoyed the company of family with Christmas dinner at our house. I rang in the New Year in an unusual yet memorable fashion. I had the pleasure of spending time with my dearest friends, from coffee dates, to lunches, to dinners, to shopping trips, to hang-out sessions and adventures that I've missed so much. My parents and I also had the chance to squeeze in a number of family dates to the movies (The King's Speech. Watch it), to the mall, to restaurants where I happily stuffed my face.

Wahhhhhhh. I don't want to go back! Don't make me! Everything I know and everyone I love is right here. At home. And yet I'm leaving it all once again.

Sigh. Okay. I'm done. No more whining. I have one last Starbucks coffee date tomorrow morning with Paula and Lenita, and one last event to play piano for on Saturday. Then it's goodbye until I'm back for Reading Week.

I assure you, I will be wearing this frown all the way back to Kingston. How did these three weeks pass by so quickly? I haven't even left home yet, and I'm already homesick. Goodbye, Christmas Break! And it's been a lovely break indeed, my friends. Till next time!

"Participate joyfully in the sorrows of the world. We cannot cure the world of sorrows, but we can choose to live in joy."
- Joseph Campbell

"I don't believe you have to be better than everybody else. I believe you have to be better than you ever thought you could be."
- Ken Venturi

DAY 5 - My Favourite Quote - The 30 Day Blog Challenge

2011-01-06T00:21:00.023-05:00

Ah. Day 5 of the 30 Day Blog Challenge requires me to share my favourite quote today. This should be easy.

Dear readers, you may have noticed that all my blog posts are followed by a quote of some sort, much of it a result of a certain hobby a friend and I took up in high school. We've long since been avid collectors of quotes and passages we've read and liked. I know, I just revealed yet another part of my nerdy self. So I'll spare you all the details of my nerdy hobbies, and move on sharing my three favourite quotes.

THE 30 DAY BLOG CHALLENGE
Day 5 – YOUR FAVOURITE QUOTE

"It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of
thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to
live that our death brings no pleasure on the world."
- John Steinbeck

"I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything,
but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything,
I will not refuse to do something that I can do."
- Helen Keller

“I believe in Christianity as I believe that the sun has risen:
not only because I see it, but because by it I see everything else.”
- C.S. Lewis
I don't think these quotes need much explanation. Call them corny, but they hold some sentimental value (in addition to being valuable in other ways). In Grade 4, a few days before a major ballet recital, my teacher gave me a book as a gift, full of different quotes and passages that she thought I'd enjoy. Back then, she was convinced that I'd be a writer of some sort one day. It was so nice of her. And all three of the above quotes were in the book she gave me, ones I read before I headed to the dance studio the next day. To this day, I'm still quite fond of these quotes, and the book still rests on my bookshelf, yellowed with age but still in great condition. Their sentimental value, in addition to a number of other reasons, is a reason why I love the quotes above. I could go on and on about them, but let's just leave it at that.

P.S. That's a Gerber Daisy in the picture above. Aren't they lovely?

"It is true that we are weak and sick and ugly and quarrelsome. But if that is all we ever were, we would millenniums ago have disappeared from the face of the earth."
- John Steinbeck

My Special Friend Sarah - Thoughts on Cerebral Palsy Awareness

2011-01-05T19:26:00.024-05:00

On Monday afternoon, I had the pleasure of going figure skating with a little girl I've been tutoring for almost four years now.

For the sake of privacy, I won't use her real name on this blog post. Today, let's just call her Sarah.

I couldn't wait to see Sarah while I was home for the holidays. Moving to Kingston has left her without a tutor (sob), and I wanted to spend time with her before I left.

And so, we headed to a local skating rink, played tag-you're-it! around the ice, and took a gazillion pictures. Because anyone who knows me well is familiar with my penchant for taking pictures. All. The. Time. You can always depend on me to whip out my camera for a photo-op at any occasion.

But, friends, there's something you should know.

My little friend Sarah is a tad different from other girls her age. I met her when I was nineteen, working as a camap counsellor for a summer camp catering to children with special needs and disabilities.

Sarah can't speak or walk on her own. Actually, she can barely move on her own. She is completely confined to her wheelchair unless someone moves her, and she can't carry on a conversation with words. She has to depend on others to eat, drink, write. She depends on others to feed her, needs 100% support in the bathroom. She can't communicate with others unless she uses certain electronics with programmed sentences and words to get her thoughts across.

Sarah has suffered from cerebral palsy since she was a young girl, affecting her physical development and, by association, her motor skills.

But while Sarah is limited physically, I refuse to believe that she isn't capable of learning or being social. After tutoring her for four years, I know she's a smart girl. I know she can read. I know she's capable of learning math. I know she's interested in learning Science, French, Geography, History, and other subjects. She's an incredibly intelligent girl.

And yet her brilliance is rarely recognized by her teachers, many who have long since given up on her as an impossible case. A little girl too limited physically to ever be treated as a regular student. Instead, they leave her with little "art projects" all day, too impatient to provide her with actual work.

But Sarah isn't as different as others think she is. She's just like any other little girl. She loves Hannah Monatana. She loves the colour pink. She loves wearing dresses, painting, watching movies. She loves music and parties. She loves and wants friends.

Last year, I remember asking her how her first day of school went, and she refused to smile. Instead, a single tear rolled down her cheek. Without words, I knew exactly how she felt. Her mother told me later that no one approached her at recces, and didn't make many friends on her first day.

I've grown to love Sarah and her family over the years I've spent tutoring her. I've tutored her brother, and spent time with her mother, gradually learning about the impact of disabilities on the families of these children. I've watched her mother cry in grief over the treatment of her daughter. I've watched her brother shrink back to the sidelines, allowing all the attention to rest on his sister. I've watched them discuss their financial circumstances. Sarah's situation requires her to have several expensive wheelchairs and equipment. Yet much of it isn't subsidized.

It breaks my heart to see her treated so negatively by her teachers and peers. Because while she's a little different physically, she shouldn't be treated like a social pariah.

My friends, if there's anything this story should tell you, it's this. I want to point out that there are a number of little girls and boys just like Sarah, desiring to be understood. And, most importantly, desiring to have friends. People who are aware that there are many children limited physically who just wish someone would spend some time with them. To chat about school, about the latest movies, the latest fashion trends.

We can't change the world. Nor can we magically give Sarah a voice or the ability to walk. Many of us don't have the credentials to research a cure for cerebral palsy. But we can be aware of Sarah's desire to be loved and, most importantly, accepted. And we have the capability to be what children like Sarah desire the most: to be their friends and to understand them beyond how they look physically.

For more information about becoming a volunteer for children with intellectual disabilities, contact your local Community Living location. They always need volunteers! :)

"The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not healing, not curing. That is a friend who cares."
- Henri Nouwen

"All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds, wake in the day to find that it was vanity: but the dreamers of the day are dangerous men, for they may act on their dreams with open eyes, to make them possible."
- T. E. Lawrence

*my-grad-life*