Wheat Kings and Pretty Things

It has sure been a long time since I posted! I suppose that happens when there's nothing to say! Seriously. I can give you an update in no time at all.

I have been ill on and off for about two months now. I get sick for a week, am better for a week, and then get sick again. Lucky for me, I'm on a role and haven't really been ill for the last three weeks!

School has been psycho-crazy. Papers, papers, papers. Yesterday and today, I wrote my final exams. So that makes this the first time since I started blogging that I haven't mentioned pre-exam jitters and the overwhelming desire to drink my life away around finals time. You must be so grateful.

And I leave to Canada on Thursday. I'll be out at my mom's a lot where there's no internet, so I'm sure I'll do plenty of off-line soul searching to post like I did while I was in France. To be honest, I'm completely jazzed to be going to Canada. If you asked me two weeks ago if I was excited, I would've said yes. If you asked me if I missed Canada, the answer would be no. But with less than 48 hours left, I'm fantasising about Arby's, Sausage McMuffins and Marble Slab ice cream. I wonder if I don't really miss things because I turn myself off to the possibility of ever having them.

It's kind of like when I lived in Cologne and H. brought me TheraFlu (NeoCitran for all you Canucks out there) when I was sick. Did I miss that warm medicine-y goodness before he brought it? No. But I was like a kid at Christmas just to have something familiar to soothe my sore throat and ease my body aches. When H. brought me Froot Loops, it was much of the same. I literally closed my eyes and made "mmm" sounds whilst eating my cereal. No joke.

So now I have all these mirages of food, craziness in shopping malls at Christmas time, and time at home in my head. I'm freakin' excited. I'm going to miss Maxie and H. a ton. But to be honest, it isn't dampening my excitement.

*Gobble Gobble*

Well, I have to say -- Thanksgiving was wonderful! We had a full house! Some of H.'s friends, our neighbours, and A. and her husband came. That was nine adults, two children, and two doggies! I mean, I know we've got a big place, but yeesh!

We spent a lot of the time playing Wii, just waiting for everyone to show up. After that, it was a lot of noise with the puppies and children running around (well, the one running child and the other puppy-fearing toddler)! The turkey was really good, and my first attempt at pumpkin pie turned out pretty decent as well. H. helped out a lot with everything else, which made the whole idea of dinner and entertaining much less stressful (which is a pain, seeing as I don't have a lot of experience with that sort of thing).

It was a good time, though, and I'm happy that so many people were willing to spend my Canadian holiday with me. There weren't even any wise-cracks made about Canadian Thanksgiving versus the American one. All in all, I feel so blessed that to have had such a good meal with such good people. It was wonderful.

Happy Turkey Day!

Okay, so it's not quite Thanksgiving Day yet. We still have another eight hours to go. (Or sixteen, since we should probably be on Canadian time for this joyous Canadian holiday.

But, who cares? It's time for turkey, pumpkin pies, and giving thanks!

Tomorrow, I am reigning in between six and eleven non-Canadians to celebrate with me (including H.). I admit it -- trying to tell an American about Canadian Thanksgiving is a tough one. Americans find a Canadian Thanksgiving just about as logical as a Columbus Day turkey. Perhaps it's just that they cannot fathom anyone on the planet celebrating -- well, what is it we're thankful for, exactly? -- on a day other than the monumental gongshow that American Thanksgiving really is.

And that made absolutely no sense.

But seriously.

I like Thanksgiving in Canada much better, regardless of any bias I may have due to my Canuck background. First, Thanksgiving in America is a complete gongshow. They put the holiday wayyy too close to Christmas. I know I'm a little more Christmas-happy than everyone I know (and by that, I mean a lot more), but to me, the end of November is already Christmas season. I don't have to like waiting for turkey just to put up my Christmas decorations.

Second, as nice as it is to give thanks, it's just turkey and mashed potatoes. Why fly half-way across the country for that? Canadian Thanksgiving is much better. We still pull out all the stops for an amazing dinner, and we spend it with friends and family. But it's not the "be all and end all" to holidays; it's low-key, and that's one of its major selling points. We understand that Christmas comes soon, which means more family and more turkey.

Which brings me to the other good point that our Thanksgiving is in October. It makes much more sense to have a break in turkey. That way, you're not sick of it by the time Christmas rolls around, since Thanksgiving is inevitably synonymous with a couple weeks of turkey buns for lunch...

Whatever your nationality, be happy that Turkey Day is tomorrow. Have a good meal with your loved ones, and let them know you're thankful to have them in your life.

Because that's what it's really all about.

*gobble gobble*

I Love my Mom

Today has been a bit of a rough day, mostly because my college's administration feel like making up the rules as they go along. It doesn't really pay to go into the details, but one decision they made (which, oddly enough, wasn't a factor about a month ago) means that they will withhold information for my transcript which will negatively affect my applications for grad school (seeing as this credit information is vital for my application).

Being the super stressed-out person with the propensity for breakdowns that I am, I had a breakdown. It was not fun, and I still feel inclined to another breakdown every so often as I continue on throughout my day. Also, being a glass-half-empty kind of person, I've also played every possible worst scenario through in my head including: working at dead end jobs for the rest of my life, being a full-time housewife, not having a chance to go on to study at the universities I want... Yes, I'm prone to overreaction, and I know that. But it is a necessary part of the cycle I must go through in order to come out the other end with a clear head.

Well, the head isn't quite clear yet, but a very necessary phone call to my mom back in Canada did help. A lot. First, my mom asked me why I was going to let some bureaucratic douche-bag make a decision that was going to affect an entire year of my life. She then told me I didn't have to accept what the first person at the school told me. After all, the thing with bureaucracy is that everyone has a different story (which is probably why this is the first I've heard of this stupid requirement, which I'm not going to get into).

Then, my mom gave me some of the best advice: "Be an obstinate bitch until you get what you want. You deserve it, and don't settle for anything else."

I love my mom. You don't get too many mom's out there telling their daughters to be obstinate bitches. But my mom did, and I love her for it. Because she gave me the kick in the butt I needed to stop moping and thinking about the end of the world.

So, on Tuesday, it's back to the administration office to get things sorted out. And if they can't sort them out from here? I'm off to the head office in Heidelberg to bang down some doors. As corny and lame-o as it sounds, my mom was right -- I've been working much too hard (taking seventeen credits per term) to get into grad school next fall to let some douche just tell me "no."

And I don't care if this post with all it's "mom power" is lame. My mom is my best friend and I'm so happy she could help put me right-side up again.

If your mom has ever helped put you right-side up again and you appreciate it, let her know. Tell your mom you love her today. Because moms just don't hear it enough. And because they rock.

Ramble, Ramble

Wow! It's been awhile again since I've posted.

To be honest, everything is new, yet nothing is new at the same time. I've been going through bouts of sickness, being bed-ridden and then functioning, and heading back to my bed again. Now, H. is lying on the couch with a fever and a cough that makes him sound like a 90-year-old with emphysema. It sucks, really. He can't afford to be sick with all the stuff he has to do at work, and I can't afford to be sick since I'm taking 17 credits per semester plus baby-sitting and Russian classes on the side. (I know, boo-hoo.)

Other than that, school is school. Now that I've hit the mid-term point, it's heavy on the papers. I'm trying to get into good habits of writing in three or four page chunks rather than sitting down and hammering out a fifteen-page paper. Sure, it works now. It definitely won't fly in grad school though. Nobody sits down to write a three-hundred-page paper. Nobody I know, anyway. So, I figure good habits are good to establish now. Or something.

On the plus side, I'M GOING TO CANADA SOON! That's right! I'm psycho and am going in the middle of the winter. Instead of complaining about the cold, though, (which I'm bound to do once I actually get there), I'm looking at the bright side of things. Other than my house shoes, the only pair of shoes I have to take are the winter boots I'm wearing on the plane. I'll tell you, it sure makes packing a lot easier when you don't have to plan your shoes with the clothes you pack.

Another plus side? H. earns USD, which sucks the big one when everything in Germany is in yo-yos. But it definitely makes things fun for shopping in Canada. Even though the US dollar is in the toilet right now, it's still cheap shopping! Woohoo!

And that's it. See? I told you nothing was happening with me! Oh, I could go into the details of the last TT dinner I attended, or the fun it is to baby-sit a teething child. But that would be even more rambling than the interwebs could probably deal with.

So here's to something interesting (yet not catastrophic) happening soon...

Way Number EIGHT to FAIL as a Professor

Being over here in Germany without an Abi is a sure-fire way to make sure your options for getting an undergraduate education are pretty limited. As it stands, I have the options of UMUC, AMU, or University of Phoenix. (Does anyone actually even go there??) I am more than well aware that I was accepted to a much better university in Canada before I decided to move over here. So UMUC it is, knowing that it's only a stepping stone to my graduate education. I'll take what I can get. But still. The university says it's trying to better its reputation. But all I see is ways they're making things worse. Be it ridiculous tuition fee increases that beat out schools that are actually well-respected, or the hiring of douche-bag professors (although every college has 'em), UMUC really isn't doing much controlling to make sure their professors are any good.

Last semester, it was the douche of "Way number seven to FAIL as a professor" who introduced me to the fact many teachers are really lazy. They steal their quizzes from the textbook web-sites complete with the same answers... in the same order. They don't even change the numbers to alter the calculations. Because that would be too HARD and TIME CONSUMING. I wonder if students actually realise this. I'm thinking not, seeing as my last douche Economics professor and this new douche keep berating half the class for their failing grades. Do people not Google the quiz questions to see if they can find any help outside the textbook?

Lucky for me in this class, I've already done most of the work in high school. I didn't have a problem with the quizzes thus far. In fact, this quiz still wasn't really much trouble, except for one question. So I went Google-hunting. And what did I find?

Companion web-site.

I'll be honest. I'm one of those people that is so non-cheating that I'll actually do my quiz without consulting the companion site first because I don't want to be screwed up the butt on the midterm and final exams when I find out I never actually learned the material. But I would be an idiot not to check my answers on the quiz to make sure they're right.

I can't believe it took me half the semester to realise that this professor was being a lazy-ass douche, just like my Economics professor. And notice how I'm not yet revealing what class this is? I'll do it after I get my grades... But seriously.

Here it is.

Way Number EIGHT to FAIL as a Professor:

Being a lazy-ass bastard does not equate to being a good professor. I could care less if you've got a PhD. You're lazy, and obviously just teaching the class for the easy money. Copy and paste from the companion site? Sure. After all, since you've already got that lovely doctorate, who cares? You did that whole part of being original in your thesis. Why be original for a bunch of arts students who are working on their lowly degrees? After all, they're all caught up in the realm of "thought" and don't have anything relevant to offer the world, anyway.

But that doesn't mean we're stupid. You're lazy. And copy/pasting does NOT equal teaching. Get off your ass and actually give us something other than the text and your stupid companion site. I don't care if you make a crappy wage. Do the work you're paid to do. If you don't like it, go somewhere else.

Oilers/Age Rant

So, I admit it. I'm out of touch with the whole hockey world. I mean, let's face it. I've never known much about hockey in the first place. I never played as a kid, seeing as I can't skate, and I don't know much about the sport as a whole. Trust me, reading the stats every day in the Calgary Herald or Edmonton Journal doesn't provide all that much knowledge aside from trades. Combine that with the fact I've been out of Hockey Country Canada for the last three seasons. I'm seriously out of date.

But I love my Oilers.

And I like to pretend I know what I'm talking about when I rant and rave about hockey. So just amuse me for a second.

Why, why, WHY, did the Oilers sign Mike Comrie again? My dad sent me a forward the other day making fun of him, as usual. Only this time, Comrie was in the Oilers' dressing room. And for some reason, the forward didn't strike me as being one from 2005. So I check the web-site, and my worst nightmare is confirmed.

Mike Comrie is back in Edmonton. What a douche.

Well, shoot. So much for me wanting to go to a bunch of Oil games when I'm back home. Unless they still boo the bastard. Then I'm in 100%.

Which got me looking at the roster a little bit closer. For some reason, I've discovered, about half of the players on the Oilers this season are either my age or younger. A small handful were born in the 70s. Now, I'd like to know when this happened. This year, all of a sudden it seems, I feel old. Taylor Lautner is in New Moon, and he is seventeen and wonderfully hot and buff. Did I mention he's seventeen? The Oilers have signed a Finnish player to the team who was born in 1991. Yes, 1991. I have a cousin who was born in 1992. I remember holding her when she was a BABY and bottle-feeding her. And now her peers could be playing in the NHL within the next couple years. Why not? People I hung out with in junior high school would already be part of the "old" people group on the team.

What gives? When did this happen? When did everyone become younger than me?

I haven't even hit my mid-twenties yet, but I feel like I'm having some sort of middle-aged crisis. Since when is 23 old? It's not, you're probably thinking. And that's what I thought, too. Until everyone started either having babies or playing professional hockey.

I'm distraught.

Google is Taking Over the Planet

So, as I was thinking it was about time I posted something, even though I have nothing to say, I realised how frustrated I am. In a recent act of conformity, I decided to open a Gmail account. Well, it's not exactly a Gmail account. It's actually Googlemail, because apparently that's the best you get when you live in Deutschland. Whatever. Basically, I was sick of the crap Yahoo! was giving me, and I liked the pretty templates. (Yeah, I'm such a girl for liking pretty templates. So what?) I even managed to get my Yahoo! mail forwarded to my new address, which I think was pretty spiffy.

But here's my problem that is completely able to be fixed by not being as lazy as I am. I like to stay signed-in to my e-mail. It makes things easier when I check the mail 5000 times per day. But then when I want to blog? Oh, no! It will only let me use my Google account, which is definitely not the one I signed up for my blog with.

Sure, Google may find their partnership with Blogger to be productive, but I find it annoying. I don't want to jump through hoops to write lame things that most people don't bother to read anyway. So, take that Google. I hate you. (Not really... I think you're omniscient.)

So, there's my rant for today. And since I'm feeling extra-grumpy because it's extra-rainy and extra-cold for September, please feel free to not drop me a line of consolation. I know who you are, regular readers, and I know you obviously find my posts too boring to comment on. So, keep it up. It gives me things to be sad about. :)

OH AND BTW. I love Gossip Girl. The new episode was just fab.

New Herd!!

Okay, I know it's silly to post twice in one day, but I can't help it! I'm super excited!

We got a new oven! What? You think that's not worthy of excitement??

So, when we moved in, our place wasn't finished yet. Our landlord had told us they were updating and modernising everything. I thought that was a pretty cool deal, and I also like the idea that H. and I are the only ones to have ever used the bathtub. It makes me feel oddly sanitary. But whilst trying to update our place, our landlord was also peculiarly cheap. For instance, why replace the old cupboards and counters when you can just slap new (and not matching) cupboard doors on them? Why replace an oven that is so loud, it sounds like it's about to take off in flight?

Well, we finally got the oven thing sorted. That only took over a year. In our landlord's defence, we didn't complain about it. Really, it was annoying, but the thing still worked. But one day, H. pressed a button (which turned out to be a child's safety lock?) and the oven and stove wouldn't work. So, we got a specialist in here to tell us we were idiots. And also that the fan in our oven is broken. And that replacing the fan, since our oven is older than my grandfather, would cost more than a brand-spanking new one. Now, we play the waiting game with the landlord, like always, and get a new oven two months later.

I have no complaints yet, other than the gross smell it's emitting, which is apparently normal and why I have to have the oven on for the next hour or two. But you know what's amazing about the whole thing? I can barely hear it!!! I could call my mom right now, and be in the same room (and not on a different level on the other side of the house), and she wouldn't ask me what I was baking! Excellent! Maxie also no longer stares at the oven in disbelief, wondering why we don't scold the oven for being so loud, but scold him for barking.

I wish I took a before picture. My friend, C., always puts before and after pictures on her blog when she does something new. Unfortunately, when I thought of it, they had already wheeled the old one out. So, the you'll just have to drool over the picture of the new one, wishing you had an oven this amazing. Poor H., though. This one doesn't have Fahrenheit. Poor guy. He's going to be so lost when he comes home.

Oh, the things that excite a housewife...

Zürich

Well, as I hinted in my last post, H. and I took the pup and headed to Zurich on Monday. Before I get started, I have some advice for you, should you wish to wander over there. Save yourself the trouble and buy the stupid toll pass for the Autobahn. Trying to save yourself 40 Swiss Francs will only lead to crying in the long run. I promise.

Still don't believe me?

Before we left, I went onto Google maps and looked up the directions from our place to Zurich. Then, as I glanced down the directions, I saw the ominous "TOLL." Gross. No thanks. I'm way too cheap to pay for the privilege of using a road when there are other, more free, routes I can take. Plus, this "back" way only was supposed to take an extra fifteen minutes. Thirty minutes extra of our time, round-trip for free? You can count me in! So the trip down the A81 to Singen went as smoothly as we thought it would. Then it was time to navigate through about 459884722 round-a-bouts. We may have taken the wrong turn a couple of times, but it was all good. I remember, though, having a sinking feeling in my stomach whilst taking Route 4 into Zurich. It was pretty... curvy. But, we made it there all right. So, of course we could get back out all right? Right?

Wrong.

We couldn't get out of the darn city, and we probably spent an hour looking for that stupid Route 4 to take us away. We even got so close. And by close, I mean one block on a one-way street close. But alas. We failed. H. decided that having a grumpy wife in a confined space was probably not the best way to go about things, so we took some Route 17 out. We followed the whole philosophy of going straight will eventually lead you out of town. This has worked in Munich, Cologne, and other places. I can now say that it works in Zurich, too. The problem with this plan, though, is wondering what to do once you get out of town. Luckily, our trusty ADAC map gave us some general highway advice. Do realise, though, that advice doesn't extend to advice on where to turn in all those little cities along the way. Are you exhausted by reading this? Because I want to cry just thinking about it.

Anyway, Zurich is okay. It wasn't worth the trouble. To tell you the truth, I'm kind of sick of German-ish cities. Sure, the architecture was nice. Sure, that lake was nice. Sure, the sidewalk chalk downtown warning us that September 11 was a lie and that the US government is housing Bin Laden in a CIA hospital was amusing. But was it worth seven hours of driving? No. Was it worth four hours of driving plus a toll sticker? Also no.

Maybe my mom was right - I AM too spoiled. But frankly, Europe, like everything else in life, gets boring after awhile. Maybe I'll be more excited when I come back after my trip back home to Canada. Probably. But for now, I'm bored.

Straßburg

Well, it's sure been a long time since I've posted! Classes started up again on the 31st, and that day was our first anniversary, as well. So things have been busy! First things first, here's the scoop on Strasbourg!

We decided that a one-day trip for our anniversary would probably be best. After all, we're still mostly broke from my trip to France. Plus, one-day trips save on hotel rooms, and save the bother of trying to find a hotel where Maxie is welcome. And really, it doesn't take that long to get to Strasbourg. Really. So H., Maxie and I went to Strasbourg for the day. It was really lovely. A. and her hubby had gone there for their first anniversary and had nothing but good things to say about the town. So, we went. And I spoke French. It was lovely. In fact, at the tourism office, whilst buying a map, I had an entire conversation in French with the lady there. I told her I needed a map, and she asked if I wanted it in German or English. We discussed the town a bit. In French. Yet I needed a map in a foreign language. Strange people. The rest of our anniversary was low-key. It was nice.

And, the fall semester has begun! This semester, I've got a couple of history classes, chemistry and math requirements, and Latin. Fun, no? I also realised that I screwed up my schedule, and if I wish to graduate on time, I need to take two one-credit seminars per semester to meet my upper-level credit requirement. Crap. All because of those darn CLEPs. Speaking of which, H., Maxie and I went to Mannheim for the day on Wednesday, where I sat an exam to receive up to twelve credits for French. You can imagine my distaste when they used Québequois and not French on the exam. I almost started crying, swearing to myself I'm not cut out for languages, that I'd be lucky to get six credits (you either get six or twelve), and that there was no way I'd be able to study French in grad school if I couldn't even pass an exam.

I got twelve credits (thank goodness).

So other than that, H. is still on vacation. We may travel to der Schweiz on Monday. Also with the Maxie. And then it's back to the grind, only it's like a super-grind. Or something...

An Update from DE

Ahh.. it's good to be home. No, seriously. I can hang out all day in my PJs, and nobody can say anything about it. Well, that is until I try to head to my Russian class in my PJs and crazy morning hair. You know the Germans, they like Ordnung, and crazy hair and PJs in the streets is... not ordentlich. In all seriousness, though, there's no place like home. (Or like Oz, apparently.) Things are going pretty good here, and life is back to normal. Russian classes this week again, math classes start (and I thought Math 30 in high school would be the last math class I ever took.. HA), and the rest of 'em start on the 31st.

So, when I got home, I had H. bring Maxie to the airport to meet me. My, was that cute. I seriously thought his butt was going to fall off from wagging his tail so hard. Then, when I came downstairs this morning, his butt almost fell off again. This is why people love dogs. You can abandon them for two weeks to go live it up in France, and they will still love you. They'll even still love you if you go away to Canada for two months. Or make them have injections to stay healthy. The unconditional thing is awesome. What isn't awesome is the chewing of shoelaces or underwear. (Why underwear?) That's okay, though. Underwear is cheap, anyway.

Ring-a-ding-ding.. It's a beautiful day.

22 August 17:29

Well, as I sit in the airport in Paris waiting to board the plane home, I have to admit that I’m kind of relieved to be heading home. The idea of home is a tricky thing, I think, for someone who has moved around as much as I have in the past five years. Really, by now, home could be anywhere for me. Home is essentially just that familiar place that you get to go back to after a journey. And it always feels nice, whether you’re gone somewhere for eight hours or eight months. And then there’s that whole other kind of home, like where you grew up. It doesn’t matter if you’re gone from there for eight years; it’s still home. But you’ll get more on that later around November and December when I head back to Canada for a couple of months.

For now, I’m happy to say I’m officially very tanned, and I can do everything at the airport or train station in French without having to resort to the “Parlez-vous anglais?” that makes every Frenchman/woman want to tear their eyes out and punch you in the face. So, that’s definitely an improvement. Maybe when H. and I go to Straßbourg in the upcoming weeks, I won’t have to just play the German-tourist-on-the-other-side-of-the-border game. That would be impressive.

Unfortunately, I have gained no philosophically moving experience from my trip other than that the French really are pigs, but they are also no different than the average North American. I take that back. They’re actually classier. And despite everything, I’m still feeling good about tackling research in French in the future. You know how I know? I hate everything French right now. At the train station in Toulon, I practically ran into the book store (well, as fast as you can run dragging a 20 kilo duffel bag), and snatched up a couple of German magazines lest I had to read my French novel on the four-and-a-half-hour journey to Paris. Luckily, I know it’s just a phase. And so I know that if I give myself time, I could be running into the airport in London or Birmingham on my way to start grad school, snatching up every French-language magazine I can get my hands on. That’d be something, wouldn’t it? I’d be laughing if the exact thing didn’t happen with German and the days I wanted to throw myself off of the Fernsehturm in Stuttgart out of sheer frustration.

Oh, the joys of suicidal feelings as the result of language learning...

Je n'en peux plus!!!!

20 August 17:57

Well, my friends, my journey through the tribulations of language lessons and French families is almost over. This time tomorrow, I’ll be returning from the beach, finishing off last minute homework, and getting ready to head back to the motherland. As I was shopping for some last-minute souvenirs today, I was a little taken aback by the fact I felt a little sad to be leaving. It would be quite the adjustment, but I could probably stay here (with a less-crazy family, mind). I did it in Allemagne, so why not again? I am excited to be heading back to normal life, though, with school and my Maxie. It’s a little discombobulating, trying to do language classes, and then run and do your university coursework during your twenty-minute breaks during the day. Life would be A LOT easier if I’d had the internet here. For example, I wouldn’t be wishing, like I am today, that I had the internet so I could finish my homework because the prof wasn’t clear on where to get things online. So now I’ll have to hand that stuff in when I get home on Saturday. I was kind of hoping NOT to have to do schoolwork when I got home. Oh well. I don’t know how soldiers who are deployed with limited internet access manage with their coursework. I could never do it.

Other than that, today was pretty boring. I had about five hours worth of grammar. Gross. My brain was just toasted. After that and a lecture on the school system in France, I sat at my computer, attempting to do my homework, thinking, “No, no... I don’t want to. I just can’t. Noooo.” It wasn’t fun. Trust me. And I’m still just as pooped now, knowing I have to write a presentation for tomorrow. It’s not that I don’t like oral presentations, but I like to talk, and not read off of a page. How can that sort of presentation be mentally stimulating? It’s not. But that’s what they want, so.... That’s what they’re gonna get, I guess.

And tomorrow will be the beach. I’m going to soak up all the sun I can before I head back to rainy Germany. Although I heard it’s quite warm there right now. 30 degrees or so. But, as it’s Germany, it still storms at night. Ahhh, home. You know, as I read through this post, I feel kind of blah. You’ve probably noticed it. I guess it’s a good thing I am heading back soon, then. Because at least in Deutschland, the rain will give me an excuse to be so blah (as if scratch-your-eyes-out grammar was never a good enough excuse...)

The Language Game

19 August 17:48

My brilliant, almost-philosophical Russian teacher, A., once told me that it is only when you have a proper grasp of a language do you stop wondering how to say something in that language, and inadvertently throw in words from other languages into the one you’re trying to study. If you’ve ever learned a second language, or even better, a third, fourth, or fifth, you will know exactly what I’m talking about. Your brain becomes mush, and you start to question how well you actually know your native languages and others you speak at a near-native level; because no matter how many languages you speak, they all turn to mush with an intensive language course.

Lucky for us language-lovers, this mish-mash doesn’t come with the languages you only sort of know. For instance, I’m not sitting in French class, inserting Russian or Spanish phrases into my sentences. Neither is anyone else. But in my language school at the moment, there are two distinct groups: German speakers who know English well (or me, the English speaker with good German), and English speakers who don’t know what’s going on with the foreign-language scene. This German-English thing that we’ve got going on is laughable. I swear. We’ve all got this complete menage of languages going on that sounds a bit like: Aujourd’hui, I went à la plage zu Fuß. In case you’re wondering what the heck that means, I said: Today, I walked to the beach. Ridiculous, no?

And then there’s the grammar that makes your eyes bleed. Here’s the thing. “They” tell you that once you know two or three languages, it’s easier to pick up others. This is true. Why else do Europeans speak eight languages without breaking a sweat? But what “they” fail to tell you is that it’s only easy if you stick to the language you’re learning. In other words, when you learn French, focus on the French. The grammar itself is not hard. Seriously. But it’s a nightmare when you try to decide what the English and German equivalents are. And then you kick yourself, because the Danish dude sitting next to you, who took English and German in school and can’t string a sentence together, tells you and the native German speaker how to speak your own respective native tongues. Nice. They weren’t kidding when they said non-native speakers know your language better than you do.

But I bet you’re wondering about those pesky English speakers. Well, in this group, they’re all from Ireland or England. So technically, they’re European. You’d think they wouldn’t have that North American stereotype of being ridiculously ignorant of and rubbish at languages. This is not true. As the pound distinguishes them from the rest of Europe with the Euro, their English speaking-ness distinguishes them from the rest of Europe with the language talents. H. can probably pick up a language faster than most of these guys. I think it’s an English-speakers’ thing. After all, you can get by almost everywhere in the world with just English. Besides, those pesky British used to have that “we’ll take over the world and subordinate you into our way of thinking along the way” thing going on for centuries. Old habits die hard, I guess, and in their former colonies, too.

On the plus side, I now have left-foot blisters on the big toe, ball, and heel. I’m not sure why it’s the left foot, but it kind of makes me hobble. Who knows? Maybe when I go home, H. will dig the gimp thing. But probably not. As much as I’m enjoying my language mish-mashing and beach-loving, I’m definitely excited to go home. For one, I’ll actually be able to do my homework when my prof tells me to watch a video online. Two, I’ll be finally sleeping in a bed that’s long enough for me. By this, I mean I won’t be sleeping in a single child’s bed anymore. That will be nice. I am not looking forward to the rain, though. I like the sun better. Definitely.

Heat Wave

Hello, all!

My, it's freaking hot here! As if the Med could get any warmer, they're experiencing a heat wave right now. They? Ha. WE'RE experiencing a heat wave right now. Every day, it's between 38 and 40 degrees. As if that wasn't fun enough, add in some humidity for good measure! On the plus side, it's excellent weather for the beach. The hour's walk to the beach with blisters on one's feet is a bit of a deterrent, though. I'm not complaining, however. It's.. *gasp* raining in Germany, so I've got to enjoy the sunshine while I've got it! Today will be another trip to the beach, I think. Last night at dinner, my host family was commenting on how I was already as tanned as they are, and I've only been here a week. I've got good summer genes, I suppose. I'm going to go back home, and everyone is going to think I'm a foreigner! Oh well...

I'll post pictures when I get home. The internet at the school is garbage, and won't up- or download anything, leaving us all with picture-less blog posts. So, if anything exciting happens, like I have new foot blisters to report, I'll be back!

Bisous!

Tequila in my Wine Glass

16 August 20:55

So, we just finished our Sunday dinner. I’m beat. Even though it’s not even nine yet, I think I’m going to have to turn in right away. How I’m going to make it through my evening math classes in two weeks is still beyond me. Not only am I in the habit of going to sleep at around nine, but I eat dinner at eight thirty. I’m going to have to bring salads with cheese to class, me thinks, and then sleep out the rest of class. Maybe H. will come pick me up so I can sleep in the car, too.

Speaking of dinner, I drink wine with my dinner here. I guess that beats the way I drink it at home -- as an afternoon pick-me-up of sorts. Normally, I drink red. Sometimes, I drink rose. So when the first bottle was rose, I didn’t complain. I also didn’t complain when the next was white, because I don’t want to be rude. Maybe it’s because my mom can’t drink white wine, so I grew up prejudiced against it. (Can one even be prejudiced against wine? Oooh, I don’t like your.. uhh grapes.) At any rate, this one tasted like crap. It wasn’t until I was finishing the bottle tonight (no, I’m not an alcoholic.. it’s been like four days), that I realized why it tastes so off with my dinner.

I think the people at the winery were playing a joke, and actually put tequila in the bottle. I’m serious. Now, don’t get me wrong. I like tequila as much as the next person. Probably more, actually. But I take my tequila in a shot glass with a lemon and salt on my hand. I do not take it in a wine glass with dinner. I think the “wine” gets me about as drunk as tequila, too. Crap.

On the plus side, though, I did discover that “tequila” tastes good with strawberry yogurt. I’m going to have to give that a shot on my next drinking binge, whenever that will be. It’s been forever, now. Do people as old as me even have drinking binges for fun anymore? Or does someone have to die/get divorced first before one has the excuse to drink themselves silly?

On a happier note (as if life gets any happier without tequila), I saw my first ever movie in French. Harry Potter. Ha. Okay, so not really French, but French-dubbed. I like to think I understood the slow parts, and not when they spoke rapid-fire. Next up on the to-do list? Understand my first ever movie in French.

Alarm! Alarm!

16 August 7:56

Good Morning. I’m going to kill you now. Yes, I heard AP leave to presumably take her daughter to work. And yes, it was probably my fault that I only locked my door half-way after going to the washroom tonight, because it meant YOU could open my door to peek in on me while I’m sleeping. And guess what? YOU SET OFF THE FREAKING ALARM. Seriously, dude. You live in a house with an alarm. Didn’t you know you’d set it off by spying on me? And even worse, when the alarm starts going off, you run back into your room to hide?! Dude, what gives? Do you know how loud that alarm is? And do you know how difficult it is to fumble with your keys and cover your ears at the same time while you go downstairs to unlock the front door and turn the damn thing off?

Seriously, I’m sick of you rummaging through my room, stealing my crap, and spoiling the last day I get to sleep in for at least a couple of weeks. I do not appreciate my privacy being spoiled, my things, no matter how small, being taken, or my sleep being sacrificed at the hands of a -- what are you? Twelve? -- year-old girl who still wears a bib when she eats because she can’t manage to keep her clothes clean. The way I feel about you is the way I feel about S. (See if you can figure out that initial). At first, I felt sorry for you because you just must be a result of poor surroundings or a poor upbringing. And then, I decided it doesn’t matter, because you’re a terrible, brat-piece-of-crap anyway, and I don’t blame the entire world for ignoring you and being mean to you.

I have no idea how to do another week of this. Luckily, this is my last day here without school. You’d think I’d be enjoying it, relaxing, studying my French, and what-not. I can’t really, though, because most things are closed today, so I’m stuck at the house, bored as heck; I’m definitely not brave enough to attempt to brave the bus system again to come home, and the blisters on the bottoms of my feet, however healed, will not hesitate to... re-blister on a seven kilometre walk home. What to do... what to do? I know what I SHOULD be doing. I should be making a study sheet for my African American History final that I do when I get home. But seriously, boring, boring, boring. I guess I have to do it, anyway, though... Ah, the procrastination and apathy that marks the last week of the semester!

Stalker

15 August 7:59

Well, so much for sleeping in today! I don’t know what it is; whenever I tell myself to sleep in, I maybe sleep an extra thirty minutes longer than I normally do. Is this how my body repays me? By telling me, “Ha, ha. You thought you were going to sleep in! Ha, ha. Sucker!!” It keeps me on a regular sleep schedule I suppose, though.

Maybe my body needs to some sleep to recover from all the trauma it’s been facing lately, though. I admit it. I’m a mosquito-bite scratcher. And I admit, it doesn’t help in the long run. This summer, though, I not only have been getting the mosquito bites themselves, but huge bruise-like welts around the bite. Help? The buggers also think this year, apparently, that it would be funny to bite me in weird places like my fingers and my earlobe. I would seriously rather have one billion mosquito bites than four on the fingers and one on the earlobe, like I do now. I look like a deformed freak. Seriously.

In better news, I think I’ll go to the beach today, because the busses are supposed to run more often than on Sundays. I mean, if they’re supposed to run every thirty minutes, even if they’re half an hour late, they’re still running ever thirty. Right? (I hope) And if I have to walk home again? Well, I hope my toes enjoy not only blisters, but busted blisters. Man, I’m in good shape, eh? Between my counted three hundred, or so, mosquito bites in one week from our honeymoon in Mexico or the strange bites I’ve had this week, I’ve decided I’m just not cut out for the tropics, as much as I like the beach. Shoot.

Other than that, not much is going on. I had an oral presentation yesterday, so that was thoroughly non-fun. I also had a lecture on French politics, which was slightly more interesting. The French never can make up their minds. Can they? I think that’s one of the most interesting things about French history; if something stayed the same for ten years or more, it’s probably because there was a monarch, and he liked to terrorize the people for fun.

And in other sad news, what’s with the youngest daughter here? Seriously, the coming into my room all the time bugs me. But that’s not why I lock my door at night. I do it because the windows are open when I sleep, and if they’re open and the door’s unlocked, the door opens, too. So, as I’m putting in earrings to try to mask gorilla earlobe, I see the door handle trying to turn. I hear a body pressing against the door, trying to push it open. Seriously, dude, if I had been sleeping and you came in to check on me or say ‘hello’, there’s a good chance I would’ve strangled you. I don’t appreciate being woken up by my dog, husband, or mom. But I love them, so I don’t strangle them. I don’t love you. Can you guess what the result will be, then? Because I’ve hunted down other people I don’t love and strangled them for waking me up. Please go away.

I have blisters on the bottoms of my feet and toes

12 August 19:12

Well, I’m just waiting for some dinner right now. Some day... I went to the front desk today to let them know I’m not okay with paying to “learn” things I learned in grade eight. They obliged by saying I could move up a level next week. Sweet, I’m cool with that.

So, since yesterday, not a heck of a lot is new here. I went to the beach today and enjoyed the sun. I’m slowly adopting a Swiss accent when I speak German from speaking to all the Swiss people. That can’t be good. I’m going to go home and be shunned. That’s never good.

And I have blisters on the bottom of my feet from trekking to and from the beach, which happens to be about four or five kilometres each way. Something tells me I won’t be walking anywhere other than my daily hobble to school for awhile...

So, there’s my check-in for today!

Fascination

11 August 17:38

I’ll be the first to admit that I’m a bookworm. Still, I thought I’d have more than plenty of work to keep me busy throughout my trip. So, I thought bringing two books from home would be more than enough. Ha ha ha. Trying my best to read slow and conserve, I finished one book yesterday, and have about one-hundred pages left to go in the other one. I needed a bookstore! Also, I know the whole point of this trip is to immerse myself in the language. I also know that it’s only Tuesday, and I’m already starting to forget things. Sometimes, escape literature solves all problems.

So, when I had the internet at school today, I looked for some addresses of bookstores in Hyères. I didn’t have a lot of luck. But anyway, I went to the post office to mail some post cards, and then planned on checking out some stores. I was a little upset to find out the first store was for little kids. My French isn’t that good, but it’s better than that! The next one was a natural healing/witchcraft kind of place. Strike two. From across the street, though, I could see the bookstore next to it looked small, but semi-normal. Halleluajah! Even better, when I got up close, there were two signs on the door: “We have English books,” and “Wir haben deutsche Bücher.” Oh my gosh, an oasis! I ran in there like a fat person runs into the queue at McDonald’s. Okay, bad example. Fat people probably don’t run to McDonald’s.

Anyway, they didn’t have any books in English or German. Stupid French liars. They did have the Twilight series, though. I mean, let’s face it. I’m a little bit sick of Bella and Edward. I’ve read the series about ten times. But, something worked for me when I was learning German. Back when my German was crap like my French is now, I started reading Harry Potter in German. I knew the story well, and I knew the way JK Rowling wrote. Even though I didn’t understand half of what I was reading at the time, I got the picture. I read through the whole series. And I began to catch on. It was a slow process, but it helped, and I didn’t have to use a dictionary all too often.

So I figure, hey, what the heck? I seriously doubt I’m going to find anything in English or German here, so why not some escape lit in French? “Si j’avais eu l’allure d’une fille de Phoenix, j’aurais sans doute pu en tirer avantage.” Oh Bella, you need some more self-confidence if you wanna snag that hottie vampire! Come on, what could be more escapist than that?

As a side note, I wish my host mother would stop coming into my room in the mornings and closing the wood shutters. I get that you wanna keep things cool, but it makes the room smell like butt. Then, I’ve got to keep the windows open just so I can breathe fresh air, which is more than counterproductive. Oh the French.. they really need to pick up on some German efficiency, I tell you!

But I am le Tired....

9 August 19:23

It’s me, again. Goodness, you must think I’ve got nothing better to do with my time. Apparently this is a common thread, as I waited over three hours for a bus that never showed up today. This German efficiency of the busses not only coming, but coming very pünktlich has obviously spoiled me. I mean, I must be crazy to expect that when a bus says it’s scheduled to come, it would come. Right? WRONG! (and now I’m having flashbacks from the “End of the World” skit.. ‘But I am le tired...’) Speaking of which, I am le tired, but it’s too late to take a nap, and then fire zee mizziles.

Anyway, today should have been a very good day. All things considered, I woke up in a pretty good mood, had breakfast, and went to le marché (market, see?). I even saw some very nice things, namely oil paintings that were a decent price, but held back to see what’s in store for later this week and next, first. After the market, I was told I’d be spending the day at the beach. I mean, it didn’t take much twisting of my arm. I happen to like the beach. Then, I got the bus schedule so I could take it back to the house. Ahhh, here’s where things start to get interesting with the busses that either, a) don’t stop, or b) don’t show up. Seriously. Crap. So, there went the whole nice relaxing feeling of lying on the beach, turning over, and then getting a text message from H. that made my day. Then, I called AP, and she said she’d check it out and get back to me. Oh, she did, three hours later. I actually put on my sunglasses and cried a little. She took a long route, so I couldn’t just walk back, as I didn’t know the way (in the hour and a half it would’ve taken). Helpless me. Seriously. I was so sure my spirit was actually broken, and that’s never a good thing when you haven’t even started the language classes yet, which are sure to break your spirit.

I mean it. I can count the times I’ve felt extraordinarily helpless on one hand. And guess what? Every single one of them had to do with either a German class with an exceptionally ridiculous grammar rule, or being in one of the situations I was in today, only in Germany. Well, I guess I get to count one French experience, now. That about fills up that hand. On to the next hand for tomorrow... Crap. And I’m also realizing how pathetic it is that people tell me I’m “good” at languages, and those same languages are the only things that really get me down in the dumps. What’s wrong with this picture? Anyone?

Anyway, AP also mentioned I should leave the house next weekend... Probably because she doesn’t want to have to pick me up again. She suggested I go to St. Tropez. If I ever get the internet, I’ll have to see how much a hotel room will set me back. To be completely honest, I kind of like the idea of not having a host family for a little bit. You know, have a ‘real’ vacation. Because as nice as it is to have a host family where you can soak up the ‘culture’ of a real-life, authentic family, it’s sometimes nice to just not care, plead ignorance, and stop trying. Hmmm... St. Tropez is sounding more inviting by the minute! I could actually be one of those ignorant North American foreigners that I try so hard not to be. Besides, by then I should be sufficiently brown enough to not get sunburned. I was quite liberal today with the sunscreen, and only my shoulders are a little sore, but not red.

I mean it. I was the whitest person on the beach. Poor H. would have stood out like a sore thumb. Apparently these people all have the secret: sun may be bad for your skin, but it’s good for the soul. (How lame am I?)

So, hopefully school doesn’t completely crush me tomorrow. Please, please, please.

More Musings on Life as an Expatriate

9 August 9:48

Last night, I couldn’t help but be frustrated by being here. I know, Sprachurlaub in France, the opportunity of a lifetime. I’m not discounting that. What I have noticed, though, is that as an expatriate, my fuse is a lot shorter than it used to be. Don’t get me wrong; I get along just great in Germany. I don’t have any problems with communication anymore, and I’m (slowly) getting to not only understand the cultural customs, but act accordingly. My thing is this -- I only speak regular English with H., my family and a couple of TT’ers. Pretty much everyone else I talk to is a non-native speaker, so I end up speaking more slowly and simply.

That, and I had a revelation last night. Really, I didn’t realize how much energy it takes to live in Germany; because I speak German and can get around without any trouble, it feels like home to me. But as much as I catch myself thinking or dreaming in German, it’s not my native language. English is. And as I lay in bed last night, having flashbacks to a time when my German was about as good as my French and I was settling into Germany, I realized not only how much time and effort it took to get my German to where it is today, but how much EASIER life was when language learning was just a hobby, and I could do everything quickly and efficiently in English, because I lived in an English-speaking country.

Thinking of that, I realized that when I go back to Canada for a visit in November, I’m not going to know what to do with myself. What do you mean I’ll be able to get what I want in English, not having to spell things out for people? Or speak in a different language? Don’t get me wrong; I’ve got it easy now that my German is good. But it’s trips like these to France, where I only understand about half of what comes at me, when I realize how hard things must be for H. He speaks less German than I do French, and lives in Germany. It’s no wonder he gets frustrated. Heck, I’m not even that bad off here, and I’m frustrated.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, that although I don’t have a problem living in Germany, it takes more daily effort than it would to do the same things in, say, Canada or any other English-speaking nation. So, now that you put me in a THIRD country, it’s like my brain has to go into overdrive, because it’s used to working harder in the first place.

Don’t get me wrong, though. I wouldn’t change my life for the world. But part of me wonders when it was that I decided I liked learning languages so much that I would dump a good portion of my life into it. Extra Russian lessons, French language vacations, Latin and Spanish lessons in college... seriously? Am I a masochist? Oh, wait, I remember why I decided I like languages. My grade six teacher wrote a poem about our “graduating class” in elementary school. She wrote a bit about each of us, and my part went something like, “Holly took to French très beaucoup. An interpreter in the UN her might woo.” Or something. So maybe I don’t want to be an interpreter and understand that I couldn’t get a job in the UN if I tried. But I am planning on doing post-graduate research in history. In French and German. That’s gotta count for something, right?

J'arrive à Hyères!

Hi everyone! Well, I'm in France now! And because I don't have the internet at home, I've been writing, and then I'll post here...

So, here it is.

8 August 2009, 18:43

First impressions? I promised myself that nothing could be worse than in Cologne. I guess it’s sort of like some personal protection mechanism to convince myself that the words “host family” are not synonymous with “devil family.” I mean, how could it get worse than A. and friends? Locked in the basement on Sundays with no access to food? Cooool. Really. How can it get worse than that?

Well, I’m really trying to decide what I think of this whole situation. The school I chose to go to has good reviews from students. It also has good reviews on the internet as a whole. So, I thought, how bad can it be? It’s touted to have one of the best home stay programs in France. Wow. Am I glad I didn’t choose a different school! This is weird, to say the least. First of all, my host mother was an hour and a half late picking me up. I kept trying to tell myself that the resemblance of this trip to Cologne was just a coincidence. So she called me. “Je suis grande et blonde. Find me.” Sweet. So, I find her. She rambles on about how there were a lot of cars, or something. Everything seemed to be looking up, until we got to the house and the woman needed her daughter to let us in. Okayyy.... So, A. (not Cologne A... oh goodness.. the similarities are starting to be frightening. We’ll call her AP, and AS was the witch from Cologne). So AP tells me only to have one shower per day, or there will be no more water. Fair enough. This woman is obviously not here to make friends, but get some easy money.

She showed me my room, and closed the door. At least AS offered me some tea... Anyway, I texted H. to let him know I was safe and started unpacking. Then some other girl comes in, speaking garbled, quiet French. Hey, I’m learning here. Speak clearly, like you’re talking to a retarded person. Otherwise, I won’t understand. Anyway, she starts rifling through my shit, playing with my phone, opening drawers, and going through my purse. Ummm... how do you say “get your dirty mitts of my stuff” in French? And then she just stared at me for about 15 minutes. I tried not to say anything so maybe she would think I was slow, and leave. It took forever, besides the fact she was trying to figure out how to open/turn on my computer. Errr... have you even ever seen a computer before? I get that you live on the beach and all, and that I’m more reliant on my computer than I probably should be, but come on. It’s a MacBook, not rocket science. Pressing the caps lock key will not turn on the computer, nor will the escape button.

So, there’s no internet. It looks like I’ll be uploading these posts and downloading my homework to do offline in the evenings as I go during school time. That’s kind of what I was expecting, but it still would’ve been nice to have the internet. A girl can dream, right? Too bad the pay-as-you-go site won’t... let me pay. Silly Frenchies. All of a sudden, that German “efficiency,” which really isn’t efficient, is looking reeeal good. And it’s only the first couple of hours. Crap.

Anyway, this should be quite the interesting saga. I’m hoping things will be better on Monday when I actually get to classes. Maybe that won’t be so creepy. I’ve just got terrible visions of coming back here, and that weird girl that was in my room will be prancing around in my clothes, or something. This might actually be the place where it’s safer to keep my passport on my person than leaving it locked up. Don’t get me wrong. I’m happy to be here. I think. But I’ve kind of got a chip on my shoulder, and am more than a little paranoid when things look this bleak from the get-go.

I’ll stop complaining if I get fed tomorrow. Thank goodness for past experiences...

Just a thought...

If my dog wants his... errr.. morning wood to go away, he should probably stop licking/pleasuring himself. He should know that's really counterproductive.

AND GOOD MORNING TO YOU....!!

Today is shaping up to be a busy day! I leave for France tomorrow, and today will be a busy day filled with Russian lessons, shopping, and doing some last-minute running around. And packing. Oh, and a little bit of homework I neglected to do yesterday because I felt like I got hit by a bus. Fun, eh?

So ist das Leben...

Weird Food Tastes in Dogs

I love my Maxie to bits. But he's such a weirdo. He not only likes typical human food like steak and chicken, but also lettuce, peas, carrots, apples and oranges. If I'm eating a salad, he goes crazy. Even crazier than for meat. Yes, I know I got a weird one, but I love him anyway. In the spirit of dogs eating people food, I decided to upload a video of Maxie eating peanut butter. I admit it, the first time I gave it to him, it was to shut him up because he was being yappy. Unfortunately, like everything else he can stick in his mouth, he loves it. I was making PBJ the other day, and there he was, begging. So I decided to record his fun with the peanut butter.... Enjoy!!!

Oh, and by the way, the crazy music in the background that sounds like it belongs on a porn video is the theme from Numb3rs. I promise I didn't add questionable-sounding music to the video just to creep you out.. :-)

Crunch Time!

Well, friends, it's Wednesday afternoon, and I leave on Saturday!! Yahoo!

And even though it's only Wednesday, I've been busier than ever this week! Since I'm leaving on samedi, I wanted to finish all my schoolwork this week. I've got a little bit of homework left, but not much. Oh, and a paper to write. Lucky for me, I finished my last final this morning! I also registered for my classes next semester... so much for that $6000 scholarship -- it's over halfway gone! I can't believe the price of tuition. Over $650 per class? That scholarship, as happy as I am to have it, doesn't even get me through tuition for two semesters. Ridiculous, oder?

Anyhoo, next semester should be interesting. Chemistry and math requirements, an intro to Latin, and a couple of history classes. Too bad I've got math and chem, though.. it's really going to be like being back in high school with ridiculous graduation requirements, eh? Yuck.

So, hopefully I can work on my paper tomorrow, and Friday, other than Russian, I'm going shopping with H.! His boss gave him the day off so we can hang out for the day before I head out for a couple weeks! I'm really looking forward to having a day just with him!

And, now you see why I haven't posted in awhile.. there's nothing interested to say! :-) Hopefully (and I know it), there will be more fun news once I'm in France!

À bientôt!

Night at the Museum: Battle of the Smithsonian

So, I hated "Night at the Museum." I thought it was lame, and frankly, kind of scary. I'm not exactly sure what I was thinking when I suggested to H. that we should go see the sequel. I hadn't even seen the trailer. More than anything, I think I was craving popcorn.

Anyway.

http://opinionsandexpressions.files.wordpress.com/2009/06/night_at_the_museum_2_movie_review.jpg

I actually found the movie hilarious. It was really funny! And of course, being the history buff that I am, enjoyed the characters and their personalities. I was especially fond of Ivan the Terrible's insistence on answering with either нет or да all the time. I also thought Amy Adams did an excellent job with her role as Amelia Earhart.

Maybe it's just because I'm in a women's history class right now, but I was inspired.

And of course, I fell in love with Ben Stiller and Owen Wilson in "Zoolander," my all-time favourite

movie.

I guess it was a combination of good actors and lots of laughs, but I had a lot of fun at this one.

I give it two T-Rex-sized thumbs-up.

Is it that time again?

I can't believe it's already time for finals again. Okay, granted my finals are oddly two weeks before the end of classes for the summer semester. But they're next week! Yikes! Time is really going quickly! The nice thing about having finals before the end of the semester, though, is that I'm not quite hating life yet. I'm close, but not that struggling-to-wake-up-and-not-kill-yourself close. Not yet, anyway. We'll see what happens when I have done my finals and still have to actually do coursework for the last two weeks. This could be a good thing, or a very, very bad thing. Especially because I'll be in France for the last two weeks of the semester. I can't say I'll have a lot of time for homework between intensive French lessons and nice weather on the Mediterranean. After all, my host-mother did say "Il fait très chaud." And who said the survival French you learned in fourth grade Canadian French class would be useless? Ha. Il fait du soleil, et il fait chaud. Well.... not here. But apparently in France, en l'été. I'm really going to have to cut out the French, aren't I?

I'm rambling again. Point is -- I'm excited to be done with my finals so I can actually enjoy a rockin' two weeks of summer. And then it's back to the grind, when I finally suck it up and complete that stupid math requirement for my BA. I don't do math, thanks. Luckily, I enrolled in dumb math. You know, the kind for arts students. And I took advanced math in high school. This means I've actually learned everything I will "learn" next semester, albeit the fact I haven't used it in the last, oh, six years. I guess I'll just look at it as a refresher I can forget about right away. Decent. I hope I can say the same for those chemistry and biology requirements I need for my degree, as well. I don't think I'll be able to say the same for my intro to computer programming... Yuck.

Anyway, I hope that wherever you are, it's sunnier than it is here. Okay, it's sunny here. But cold. Yesterday was the first (and only) nice day we've had all "summer." So, hopefully you've got a sunburn and don't need that fake tanning lotion that I do. Well, for another week and a half, at least.

And you know what? It seems like I've dropped off on my "How to FAIL as a Professor" series. I've only got one entry so far this semester. I guess that's actually a good thing. It doesn't mean I hate life as much. Maybe this will continue until I graduate in March? Or am I being a bit too optimistic?

Needles in Arms

Bleeding dog is gone, the floor is no longer spotted with red, and I can finally breathe again. Oh, wait. Scratch that. I can't move my arms because I got a boatload of immunizations today. I feel kind of like I did when I was a baby and got mumps, rubella, measles, etc. At least, I think I do. I can't really remember that far back. Maybe I'm already starting to lose my memory. Who knows?

So, yesterday I booked an appointment for a booster shot of Tetanus and Diphtheria. I was happy to get in this morning. Well... as happy as one can be to get a needle. Anyway, I wasn't up for the booster for another two years yet, but apparently Germany's got bad luck with Whooping Cough. Okay, not bad luck. They don't immunize for it, so everyone gets it. And so I was advised by the needle-happy military medical system to go ahead and get my Td early, so I could get TdaP instead. Super. Except I saw my third military needle-giver today (I've been getting other rounds of shots, too). And, like the other two before him, he demanded why I don't have any immunizations. Exasperatedly, I told him they were in Canada, and I'd try to get them if the health authorities hadn't already tossed them. So, he settled and told me I should be getting a slew of other injections that I hadn't already had, all the while threatening me with more needles, should the kind folks back home not have saved my records.

I shouldn't make it sound all bad. I was actually planning to get the Hep A vaccine one of these days anyway. But that day wasn't supposed to be today. As a 1.0 mL shot in the same arm as my TdaP. Why didn't the Hep A go in the other arm, you ask? Because the other arm had already got a hefty dose of a one-time-never-worry-about-being-a-freshman-in-a-dorm-and-having-brain-swelling meningitis vaccine. Cool.

Now I can barely move my arms enough to take on and off the sweater I'm wearing, because it's that terrible in-between temperature where you can't decide if it's hot or cold. Right on.

I hope you'll excuse me so I can go get excited for my trip to France, now! (That happens in about a week and a half, thankyouverymuch.)

Dogs in Heat: Why?

So, some friends of ours asked if we would watch their dog for the weekend. Okay, I didn't have much say in the matter, as H. accepted before asking me. I mean, it's not that big of a deal; Sandie is old, and just lies there. I take her out to go to the bathroom every four hours, and everyone is happy. Simple.

Except for the fact she's in heat. Here's where I get a bit graphic. Put down your cheeseburger. See, the thing is, I've never seen a dog in heat before (I know, so unworldly of me). I mean, we always got our dogs fixed before they had a chance to get all bloody. And I got Max clipped as soon as possible (what a nightmare it was when he started spraying in the house. Yuck). Anyway. There is blood on my floor, and I'm struggling to keep up with cleaning. It doesn't help that my own finger-blood grosses me out. This is full-on doggy-vagina blood. Yes, I know it's natural. But it's gross wiping up after it all the time. It's even more gross when she licks it up. I hope you weren't eating. Because if you were, you're probably in the bathroom throwing up now, yes? I'm tempted to buy a doggy-diaper of sorts. Wouldn't that be more practical?

Before babysitting dog in heat, I was always pro-spaying/neutering. Now, I'm DEFINITELY pro-spaying/neutering. Seriously, people, listen to Bob Barker's famous words, and get your pet spayed or neutered. Especially if you're not breeding the critters.. Unlike Bob, I'm not saying this because I want YOU to help control the pet population. I'm saying it because in-house spraying (for males) and blood drippings (for females) are gross. Seriously. Dogs should be cute and cuddly. Not oozing with all their animal sexuality.

(Image from: http://privatecanine.com/images/cgp-diaper.jpg)

Potpourri

Today, I can't stop smiling. It's days like today that remind me I made a good choice in studying what I love: history. Studying what you enjoy isn't always possible; sometimes, no matter how much you love it, you suck at it. Kind of like my love for, say, singing. I sound like a strangled duck. No matter.

Anyway, I got some great feedback on a couple papers of mine in my European Women's History class. "Superior work" was the term used. Before you think I'm just patting myself on the back, sometimes I wonder if I'm getting carried off by wanting to go into academia, getting completely in over my head. I probably am, but it's good to know that at least one doctor of history thinks I'm on the right track. What I should be doing is collecting these comments so when I have a professor like the one I had last semester (see How to FAIL as a Professor for more details), I can remind myself why I'm studying history.

I know I'm in for a long road. Hence my upcoming trip to France. Oh wait, I didn't TELL you I'm going to France? Well, yeah baby, I am! And despite heading for beautiful Hyères, I'm not going for a vacation (though I do hope to get in some beach time). I'm going to refresh that cobweb-covered French I developed in my primary and secondary school years. Word on the street is that if I want to research French history, I should probably be able to complete my research in French. Go figure. So, taking the head of U of Birmingham's program to heart, I'm off to France for a couple of two-week stints to improve what I already know. After all, I don't need to be perfect in French before I apply. Heck, my French probably doesn't even need to be as fluent as my German. But it should be better than the cobweb mess that it is right now.

Watch this space for some pictures in August. It'll be awesome... I hope.

Finland Pictures! Finally!

Okay, so I figure I'm never going to write a play-by-play of my trip to Finland. Unfortunately, it's never going to happen. So, I thought I'd at least post a couple pictures from my trip, seeing as I have nothing better to write about these days. So here goes...

So obviously, this isn't Finland. But E. had never had a really girls' night. You know, chick flicks to make you cry and so much junk food to make you throw up. Maybe it's a North American thing. So, we went to the market, got as much junk food as we could carry, and took it back to E. and L.'s place for some girl time. The only rule? L. wasn't allowed to join. I have to say though, E. really isn't too experienced with the whole junk food thing. She gave up about five minutes into Love Actually...

Another thing that gets me about Finland? It looks like Canada. The nice thing about knowing this, though, is that there are REAL places to go hiking and camping (not just this whole trailer-obsession that the Germans have). And, as an added bonus, it's a lot cheaper to fly to Finland than Canada. Seriously.

And this is E. and me at the Arctic Circle. I never thought I'd go so far north. And even more than that, I never thought it was possible to burn in the sun when you're that far north. Nice.

Oh, our bikes. They loved each other. Seriously. Every time we went downtown on our bikes, they'd end up entangled in their love for each other. Unfortunately, the love story, like so many, was short-lived. E.'s bike (well, actually her friend's) was stolen from their apartment complex before I left. They also cut the lock and tried to steal the one I was using (the white one). The lock was all twisted in the spokes. It was nasty. And seriously, who'd try to steal that sexy-looking bike? Really?

And here is a picture of the bay in downtown Oulu. It was quite nice there. E. and I would just sit here, eat ice cream, and listen to live music. The dude there had an obsession with Bryan Adams. On the plus side, that meant I could understand and sing along with the lyrics. That's always a bonus. And, I even understood what he meant at the end of every song when he said "Kiitos, kiitos."