This is a cover of my favourite song, "Such Great Heights" by The Postal Service. Have a listen. It's beautiful and eerie at the same time.
December 29, 2009
December 26, 2009
Manitoba's Hidden Gems: Saints Peter and Paul Ukranian Catholic Church
It has taken me awhile to update my “Manitoba” section of my blog, but thankfully I had another opportunity to visit the country a few months ago. I went to my boyfriend’s farm again, and this time we visited an old, unused church.
We drove up to the cemetery where the church is located around dusk on a cloudy, quiet evening. There was still some light, although the sun was setting quickly 
in the background. As we got out of the car, and hopped over the barbed-wire fence, I was struck by an ominous and uncertain feeling. I felt as though we were doing something wrong by visiting this church. Jeff assured me that it was open to the public, and I followed him closely as we walked through a large field to reach the church.
in the background. As we got out of the car, and hopped over the barbed-wire fence, I was struck by an ominous and uncertain feeling. I felt as though we were doing something wrong by visiting this church. Jeff assured me that it was open to the public, and I followed him closely as we walked through a large field to reach the church. There are actually two buildings – the church itself, and the bell tower. Jeff could not convince me to go into the bell tower building, even though I will admit that I was curious. The door was easy to open, but the inside was a mess. There were stairs (sort of) winding around the inside walls. They were about two or three storey’s high, and at the top, was the bell. It still actually worked, but we are not sacrilegious enough to ring it. I was concerned that the stairs were not sturdy enough to hold both our weights, and Jeff grudgingly agreed that I was right.
The actual church itself was incredible. The door – as Jeff predicted – was unlocked, and anyone was free to walk in. The inside was dark, slightly damp, yet perfectly preserved. There were about eight pews in the small room, each one facing towards a beauti
ful altar. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Behind the altar was a room with a bible, written in Ukrainian. It was just sitting there, waiting to be picked up, read, and examined. A small room in the back probably used to be the Minister’s quarters, and I did not feel comfortable going in there.
ful altar. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Behind the altar was a room with a bible, written in Ukrainian. It was just sitting there, waiting to be picked up, read, and examined. A small room in the back probably used to be the Minister’s quarters, and I did not feel comfortable going in there. In the main room, above the pews, was a small balcony. Jeff hoisted me up a very sketchy looking ladder, and we looked down on the main room. It was peaceful and serene, yet frightening at the same time. As we looked towards the altar, a large clap of thunder sounded outside. I have to admit, I was worried I would turn a corner and discover a dead body stashed somewhere. I voiced this concern to Jeff, who wasted no time telling me I was being ridiculous. No one comes to the country to kill someone, he said. It’s too far away.
To provide a bit of background, this particular church has been around since 1901. It was restored in 1978, and opens annually on July 12 for a public service and a picnic. Similar to Marcon
i School – which I wrote about in an earlier blog post – the church is maintained locally, and is open to the public. There is a guestbook (which I signed), and place to make donations. It is incredible that no one has vandalized the church, because the inside is truly beautiful.
i School – which I wrote about in an earlier blog post – the church is maintained locally, and is open to the public. There is a guestbook (which I signed), and place to make donations. It is incredible that no one has vandalized the church, because the inside is truly beautiful. On the way out, we visited the cemetery, and found gravestones dating back to the early 1900’s. It really put things in perspective for me as I looked around. People lived, worked, loved, and died in this area, and are still doing so today. Sometimes, in the city, I forget there is an entire other world in the country. People are everywhere, doing the same things we are, hoping and praying they will make it through life safely. Next time we visit the farm, Jeff is taking me to a mass grave. I can’t imagine how I will feel standing there…
December 18, 2009
Today in History...1865
December 18, 1865 - slavery was abolished in the USA. The Thirteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution officially ended and prohibited slavery and involuntary servitude (except as punishment for a crime, of course). It was called the "Thirteenth Amendment" because there were twelve amendments adopted before it. They just didn't work out as well as expected, I guess.
Ending slavery was a huge step in the USA, but as we know, there was still a long way to go before all people living in America were considered to be equal.
Ending slavery was a huge step in the USA, but as we know, there was still a long way to go before all people living in America were considered to be equal.
December 11, 2009
This Dude Was An Idiot...
... too bad he isn't real!
A family somewhere put this up as a Christmas decoration. They were forced to take it down after two days, as many people came to the house screaming and yelling at the front door for help.
A 63-year-old woman actually grabbed the ladder, climbed it, and attempted to rescue the "stranded" individual. Apparently an onlooker said "boy, was she pissed!"
I understand the need to be festive and creative this holiday season, and I have to admit that I laughed when I saw the picture. I do, however, also understand why such a set-up would anger some people, especially honest and kind-hearted people who attempted to help the "person" attached to the house.
In my opinion, the moral of the story is this: be creative and festive this holiday season, but don't be a jack ass.
A family somewhere put this up as a Christmas decoration. They were forced to take it down after two days, as many people came to the house screaming and yelling at the front door for help.A 63-year-old woman actually grabbed the ladder, climbed it, and attempted to rescue the "stranded" individual. Apparently an onlooker said "boy, was she pissed!"
I understand the need to be festive and creative this holiday season, and I have to admit that I laughed when I saw the picture. I do, however, also understand why such a set-up would anger some people, especially honest and kind-hearted people who attempted to help the "person" attached to the house.
In my opinion, the moral of the story is this: be creative and festive this holiday season, but don't be a jack ass.
December 7, 2009
The Projector: The Hydration Situation
Here's another story I wrote for the school newspaper...
The push towards healthy living and lifestyle choices in the past few years have made it increasingly difficult to determine what people should put into their bodies. The issues of hydration and fluid consumption are extremely important, yet are overlooked by most. The latest fads of energy drinks, sports drinks, and mineral waters make it all the more important for people to understand the importance of proper hydration, and which fluids a person should consume each day.
Kathy Malone, a Registered Nurse, immediately dispelled the myth that a person needs 8 glasses of water a day to stay healthy. She explained that it’s “not water, but fluids that are important to consume throughout the day.” Fluids extend beyond beverages, and include many foods such as soups, fruit, ice cream, Jellos, and puddings. “Every organ needs water,” Malone explained, “so get fluids!”
While it is important to consume fluids continually throughout the day, they type of fluids a person ingests are also key. Dallas McEvoy, a first year Computer Analyst Programming student at Red River College, said that he usually drinks “water in the morning and at night,” and usually “a diet coke” during the day. McEvoy explained that the amount of fluids he consumes “depends on the day.” McEvoy also admitted he doesn’t drink as much as he should. Lisa
Rowson, a second year Creative Communications student, chooses to drink water because “it’s very healthful. It’s just the easy choice.” She also added, “I’m really bad for drinking tea and coffee.”
When asked which fluids are not recommended to consume, Malone said “I wouldn’t touch Redbull.” She also didn’t believe it was necessary to consume mineral waters and sports drinks - such as Powerade - on a daily basis for a moderately active individual (such as a college student). “Just for fluids,” she explained, “water’s fine.” Malone also believes “there’s a media push for advertising purposes,” and consumers are told they need these specialized fluids to live a healthy life. In reality, drinking lots of water and eating the right foods will provide both the nutrients and fluids a person needs to remain healthy.
Another important hydration related issue is dehydration. It results when the body expels a higher number of fluids that it takes in. Malone explained that “you can’t wait until you’re thirsty to say ‘I need fluids’.” When asked to describe the most obvious and immediate symptoms of dehydration, Malone said “thirst is number one and headache is number two.” McEvoy commented that he could usually tell he was dehydrated, “if it’s really bad.” Rowson explained dehydration as “that cotton ball feeling in my mouth after a night of drinking.” She also explained that occasionally, “I’ll mistake thirst for hunger.”
Kathy Malone, a Registered Nurse, immediately dispelled the myth that a person needs 8 glasses of water a day to stay healthy. She explained that it’s “not water, but fluids that are important to consume throughout the day.” Fluids extend beyond beverages, and include many foods such as soups, fruit, ice cream, Jellos, and puddings. “Every organ needs water,” Malone explained, “so get fluids!”
While it is important to consume fluids continually throughout the day, they type of fluids a person ingests are also key. Dallas McEvoy, a first year Computer Analyst Programming student at Red River College, said that he usually drinks “water in the morning and at night,” and usually “a diet coke” during the day. McEvoy explained that the amount of fluids he consumes “depends on the day.” McEvoy also admitted he doesn’t drink as much as he should. Lisa
Rowson, a second year Creative Communications student, chooses to drink water because “it’s very healthful. It’s just the easy choice.” She also added, “I’m really bad for drinking tea and coffee.”When asked which fluids are not recommended to consume, Malone said “I wouldn’t touch Redbull.” She also didn’t believe it was necessary to consume mineral waters and sports drinks - such as Powerade - on a daily basis for a moderately active individual (such as a college student). “Just for fluids,” she explained, “water’s fine.” Malone also believes “there’s a media push for advertising purposes,” and consumers are told they need these specialized fluids to live a healthy life. In reality, drinking lots of water and eating the right foods will provide both the nutrients and fluids a person needs to remain healthy.
Another important hydration related issue is dehydration. It results when the body expels a higher number of fluids that it takes in. Malone explained that “you can’t wait until you’re thirsty to say ‘I need fluids’.” When asked to describe the most obvious and immediate symptoms of dehydration, Malone said “thirst is number one and headache is number two.” McEvoy commented that he could usually tell he was dehydrated, “if it’s really bad.” Rowson explained dehydration as “that cotton ball feeling in my mouth after a night of drinking.” She also explained that occasionally, “I’ll mistake thirst for hunger.”
December 6, 2009
Christmas Trees Around The World...
It's Christmas time! For me, the best parts of Christmas are looking at decorated trees, and driving by houses covered with lights. I was sent the following photos in an e-mail forward recently, and decided to post them here.
One year, my family went to Maui right around Christmas time. We had a great vacation, yet what bothered me was that there were no REAL Christmas trees anywhere! Everyone decorated palm trees, which I thought was very weird. The fact that it was about 30 degrees out didn't help either...
Another year, when I was still living in Calgary, it didn't snow at ALL during Christmas. Christmas Eve there was no snow, Christmas Day there was no snow, and even on Boxing Day it wouldn't snow. That really bothered me! We live in Canada, a country which has SEASONS, so I believe we should have snow every single year...
Thankfully, this year we will have snow! I will attempt to improve my snowboarding skills (for the fourth year in a row), go tobogganing in the middle of the night, drink my weight in hot chocolate + Bailey's, and everything will be just as it should be. I absolutely love these pictures, and I want to wish everyone Happy Holidays no matter where they celebrate this winter. Stay warm!
One year, my family went to Maui right around Christmas time. We had a great vacation, yet what bothered me was that there were no REAL Christmas trees anywhere! Everyone decorated palm trees, which I thought was very weird. The fact that it was about 30 degrees out didn't help either...
Another year, when I was still living in Calgary, it didn't snow at ALL during Christmas. Christmas Eve there was no snow, Christmas Day there was no snow, and even on Boxing Day it wouldn't snow. That really bothered me! We live in Canada, a country which has SEASONS, so I believe we should have snow every single year... 
Thankfully, this year we will have snow! I will attempt to improve my snowboarding skills (for the fourth year in a row), go tobogganing in the middle of the night, drink my weight in hot chocolate + Bailey's, and everything will be just as it should be. I absolutely love these pictures, and I want to wish everyone Happy Holidays no matter where they celebrate this winter. Stay warm!
December 3, 2009
An Unlikely Companion
DISCLAIMER: This story may look long, but I promise you can read it in ten minutes. I wrote it for my Creative Writing class a month ago...
The barn was cold, dark, and damp, yet it offered the only refuge Katrina had found all day. Forcing the sliding barn door to close behind her, she threw herself onto an inviting pile of hay in the corner. Screaming, shouting, and footsteps were clearly audible through the cracks in the barn walls. St. Petersburg was in a state of distress, and Katrina had spent hours wandering the dangerous streets in an attempt to find a secure hiding place. Only this morning she had been warm and protected in her home, the Alexander Palace. Now she was wet and exhausted, forced mercilessly into the February cold. Katrina prayed that the angry rioters outside would not hurt those she cared about at the palace. The Romanov’s were more than simply the Royal Family to Katrina. They were her family, and she shuddered in fear at the thought of what could be happening to them. Katrina wept bitterly at the cruel fate that had encompassed her, burying her face in the stale hay. What was happening to her Russia? What was happening to her life?
A few hours later, dusk settled in, and the noises outside were reduced to an occasional yell. It seemed the majority of the rioters had finally decided to seek their own shelter for the night. Suddenly, Katrina was roused from her self-pitying, dreamlike state to the sounds of footsteps outside the barn door. She quietly pulled her cloak around her body, hiding her tear-stained face. She held her breath, hoping the person outside was a harmless farmer searching for a place to relieve himself before going to sleep. A moment passed, then another. Katrina began to breathe again. Maybe it had been her imagination, and no one was lurking outside the door. She slowly lifted up the edge of her cloak, in preparation to gaze through the darkness. At that exact moment, the barn door rolled opened loudly, and Katrina screamed.
The intruder was much quicker than Katrina had anticipated. Before she had a chance to cry for help, she found herself flat on her back with a hand covering her mouth. Her arms were pinned at her sides, and a heavy shape sat squarely on her chest. Struggling to breathe, Katrina attempted unsuccessfully to scream again.
“Quiet your mouth, woman,” a male voice hoarsely whispered in her ear. “Do you want them to come in here and find us both?” Despite her better judgment, Katrina stopped struggling. As terrified as she was of this individual, she fully realized a large group of men would be much worse. Katrina forced her body to relax, and her intruder climbed off of her and rolled next to her in the hay. Scared, yet somewhat curious, Katrina turned towards the individual who compromised her sanctuary. Sitting up, and gathering her cloak and rumpled skirts tightly around her small, shivering body, Katrina sat face to face with her new companion.
Moonlight shone through the dilapidated walls, and Katrina could see her intruder was a young man. He looked to be about her age, possibly 18 or 19 years old. His shoulder-length hair was dark brown, and his face was smeared with mud and other unidentifiable grime. His clothing was homemade and dirty. Suddenly very aware of her second-hand silk gown and embroidered bodice, Katrina pulled the cloak tighter around her. She looked back towards the face of the young man, only to discover a pair of piercing, deep blue eyes were staring right back at her. They were the most beautiful eyes Katrina had ever seen, and for a brief moment, Katrina forgot herself entirely.
The young man spoke, forcing Katrina back to reality. “Why’s a high-class lady like you hiding in a dirty barn? You afraid of what’s going on outside?” His Russian was oddly accented, and hinted poor education and rough lifestyle. Katrina quickly became annoyed, as this young man had intruded on her and was now questioning her. She jumped up in a shower of clothing and hay, and began pacing back and forth on the hard dirt floor.
“What am I doing here? You break into my hiding place, scare me half to death, assault me, and have the nerve to ask what I am doing here? I do not have to tell you anything! I would appreciate it if you would leave this place at once!” As she finished talking, Katrina turned back towards the pile of hay. The blue eyes were watching her again, and to her amazement, they seemed to sparkle with amusement. With exaggerated effort, the boy stood up, walked towards the door, and intentionally brushed past Katrina as he did so.
“Beg your pardon. I didn’t realize this was a barn for rich ladies only.” He had his hand on the door, and was about to slide it opened, when a series of gunshots exploded outside. Running footsteps, shouting, and more gunshots were all Katrina heard before she threw herself back into the pile of hay. Feeling movement beside her, Katrina realized the boy had jumped in beside her. She hated to admit it, but she was thankful for his presence.
Roughly thirty minutes passed. From her hiding place, Katrina deducted that the police were attempting to round up a group of the rioters. She believed – and hoped – that the gunfire was only a scare tactic. Cautiously lifting her head for the second time that evening, Katrina looked to where the boy had hidden himself. He was lying on top of the hay, fast asleep and generally unaware of the potential danger that lurked on the other side of the door. Katrina quietly moved closer, and prodded his sleeping side with her foot. Seeing he was beginning to rouse, she poked harder.
“Hey, hey! Boy! Wake up!” He yawned, opened his eyes, and looked directly at Katrina.
“I was sleeping.” He attempted to roll over, but Katrina refused to allow the conversation to end there. Things appeared to be quieting outside, and she wanted to know who he was.
“Wake up,” she loudly whispered. “Aren’t you worried they will come back?”
“No,” he replied, as he slowly sat up and faced her. “And if they do, I bet they’ll be lookin’ for you more than me.” He looked Katrina up and down, taking in her expensive gown, freshly-washed hair, and shoes. “Looks to me like you’ve more reason to hide than I do.”
Katrina hated to admit it, but the boy was right. It had been a well-known fact for years that the Russian people were dissatisfied with Tsar Nicholas II and his wife, Alexandra. The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand II in Serbia, and the resulting outbreak of the Great War, had only worsened the situation. The Russian people initially supported the Tsar’s decision to go to war in 1914. Now, three years later, millions of Russian soldiers were dead, and Nicholas was hated even more. Katrina had known Nicholas for her entire life, and met Alexandra in 1894. She believed the couple did not deserve the negativity forced upon them, yet she realized a long time ago that revolution was inevitable. Now that the moment had finally arrived, however, Katrina was more afraid than ever.
Busy with her own thoughts, Katrina did not realize the boy had started rummaging through his shirt pockets. Taking an interest in his actions, Katrina moved closer. “What are you doing there, boy?” she asked curiously.
He stopped rummaging, and pulled a partial loaf of bread from his shirt. Smiling proudly, he tore the loaf in half, and offered a piece Katrina. Realizing she had not eaten since the previous evening, she accepted the bread and smiling sheepishly. She was beginning to regret being so rude to him.
“If we’re stuck here together, miss, you might as well stop calling me ‘boy’,” he replied, in between bites. “The name’s Demitri. Demitri Fedorovich. Nice to meet you.” Katrina chewed the bread silently. Surely this boy was harmless. Holding out her hand, and forcing a smile, Katrina looked into his beautiful blue eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Demitri,” she said quietly. “My name is Katrina Alexandrovich, and you are welcome to share my hiding place for the evening.”
Demitri smiled, and returned to his bread. Ignoring her better judgment, Katrina moved closer, and the unlikely pair of young adults shared a meal of stale bread in a strange sort of comfortable silence.
It was some time later, while stretched out upon the hay, that the young pair attempted to have a real conversation.
“What brings you to a deserted barn in the middle of the night?” Katrina asked, turning towards him and propping herself up with an elbow. “You must be hiding from something.”
Demitri also turned, and assumed a similar position. He regarded her face carefully, and not without suspicion. He knew no more about this strange girl than she knew about him, and was unsure of how much information to give away. Deciding it was harmless to talk, he shrugged.
“I got caught up in the revolution, same as you, I guess. I was at work, and a big group of women walked by. They threw rocks at the windows, and yelled as us to come out and walk with them. Many of the men did.”
Katrina shook her head. Things must be more awful than she imagined.
“What did you do?” Katrina asked, feeling slightly ill at the thought of women yelling on the streets.
“I joined in,” Demitri said simply.
“Why?”
“I really had no choice.” Demitri sighed. “You don’t know what it’s like on the streets, Katrina. The poverty takes over a person. We can’t buy nothin’ anymore. People are starving, and dying.”
Katrina shook her head, refusing to believe his words. “That can’t be true! They said things were improving, that people were happier. They said the war brought the Russian people together again. They said…” Katrina stopped, and realized Demitri was watching her quizzically. Fearing she had inadvertently given away too much information, Katrina rolled over and turned her back to him.
A moment later, a hand rested lightly on her arm. From behind her, Demitri spoke quietly. He didn`t try to make her turn over and listen to him.
“So, you’re royalty, aren’t ya?” Demitri must have felt Katrina stiffen at the question, because he quickly removed his hand. A moment passed before he spoke again.
“Don`t worry, I won’t give you up. I knew the first moment I saw you that you were rich, or important, or somethin’. I promise to keep you safe, and won`t let anythin’ happen to you tonight.”
Katrina truly trusted this boy, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she liked him. Demitri seemed honest, and he was the only working-class person Katrina had met who had not scorned her for serving the Romanov’s. Feeling more comfortable, Katrina rolled over, desperate to share her story with someone. Who knew when it would be safe to speak of the Romanov’s openly again.
“I am not royalty, “she began, feeling it necessary to be honest. “I am… was a maid … to the Duchesses. However, I grew to be a friend, then a sister. My parents died when I was a little girl, and the Tsarina decided I should stay at the palace with the Royal Family. They are good to me… were good to me… oh dear, I don’t even know what’s happened to them!” Her last words flooded out in a torrent of emotion, and before she realized it, Katrina was sobbing. Demitri pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist as she cried. He gently rocked her back and forth, and whispered soothing words into her ear.
It must have been difficult to comfort her. Demitri despised the Romanov`s. He shared the frustration that most Russians did, and was relieved the poor were finally taking action. He was planning to join what was quickly becoming a revolution the following day, and was excited for the coming changes Russians would witness. Still, he felt for the tiny girl in his arms. She was so obviously distressed. Demitri slowly rocked Katrina back and forth, and after a time, she stopped crying.
Finally gaining control of her emotions, Katrina slid off Demitri`s lap and shyly avoided his eyes. She mumbled a quiet “thank you,” when he offered his sleeve as a makeshift handkerchief, and pretended to busy herself by reorganizing her skirts. Inwardly, Katrina was embarrassed by her reaction. Demitri had just disclosed that he was starving, and she was crying over nothing. What different lives they led! Suddenly exhausted, Katrina lay down and pulled her cloak over her body for warmth. A few moments passed, and Katrina remembered Demitri was dressed poorly. She hesitated for a moment, but despite her better judgement she raised her head and softly called to him through the darkness.
“You may share my cloak with me, if you like. I know you must be freezing.” There was a brief silence, followed by a rustling in the hay as Demitri settled behind her. He offered his arm as a pillow and the pair lay in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Time passed. Eventually, Demitri spoke through the dark.
“Katrina,” he ventured in the dark.
“Mmpphh,” was the almost incoherent reply.
“You`re the most beautiful woman I`ve ever met, and I`ll never forget you.” There was no response. After a moment, Demitri closed his eyes and stopped waiting for an answer. If Katrina was asleep, or simply would not respond, he would never know.
The sound of voices forced Katrina from sleep. Streams of daylight shone through the barn walls, indicating it was morning. Katrina sat up and stretched, painfully attempting to work the cramps out of her arms and legs. It took a moment before she realized she was alone. Scanning the barn with her eyes as she struggled to stand, a spot on the floor caught her attention. In the dirt, in front of the door, a message had been written. Katrina squinted to make out what it said.
“Sorry to leave without saying goodbye. Must find out what happens next. Good luck. Demitri.” Katrina sighed. He had left without waking her up to say goodbye. What had he gone to do? It was silly to think, even for a moment, that Demitri could have been anything more to her than a stranger in the night. These were times of war, revolution, and change, and he was fighting on the opposite side.
Rolling the barn door opened, she stepped into the busy street. She had no idea where she was going, yet knew she needed to keep moving. Russia was changing, and Katrina was determined to secure her future. She bravely walked down the street littered with sleeping bodies, garbage, and blood. Gradually, her silhouette disappeared against the early morning fog, and the next phase of her journey officially began.
The barn was cold, dark, and damp, yet it offered the only refuge Katrina had found all day. Forcing the sliding barn door to close behind her, she threw herself onto an inviting pile of hay in the corner. Screaming, shouting, and footsteps were clearly audible through the cracks in the barn walls. St. Petersburg was in a state of distress, and Katrina had spent hours wandering the dangerous streets in an attempt to find a secure hiding place. Only this morning she had been warm and protected in her home, the Alexander Palace. Now she was wet and exhausted, forced mercilessly into the February cold. Katrina prayed that the angry rioters outside would not hurt those she cared about at the palace. The Romanov’s were more than simply the Royal Family to Katrina. They were her family, and she shuddered in fear at the thought of what could be happening to them. Katrina wept bitterly at the cruel fate that had encompassed her, burying her face in the stale hay. What was happening to her Russia? What was happening to her life?
A few hours later, dusk settled in, and the noises outside were reduced to an occasional yell. It seemed the majority of the rioters had finally decided to seek their own shelter for the night. Suddenly, Katrina was roused from her self-pitying, dreamlike state to the sounds of footsteps outside the barn door. She quietly pulled her cloak around her body, hiding her tear-stained face. She held her breath, hoping the person outside was a harmless farmer searching for a place to relieve himself before going to sleep. A moment passed, then another. Katrina began to breathe again. Maybe it had been her imagination, and no one was lurking outside the door. She slowly lifted up the edge of her cloak, in preparation to gaze through the darkness. At that exact moment, the barn door rolled opened loudly, and Katrina screamed.
The intruder was much quicker than Katrina had anticipated. Before she had a chance to cry for help, she found herself flat on her back with a hand covering her mouth. Her arms were pinned at her sides, and a heavy shape sat squarely on her chest. Struggling to breathe, Katrina attempted unsuccessfully to scream again.
“Quiet your mouth, woman,” a male voice hoarsely whispered in her ear. “Do you want them to come in here and find us both?” Despite her better judgment, Katrina stopped struggling. As terrified as she was of this individual, she fully realized a large group of men would be much worse. Katrina forced her body to relax, and her intruder climbed off of her and rolled next to her in the hay. Scared, yet somewhat curious, Katrina turned towards the individual who compromised her sanctuary. Sitting up, and gathering her cloak and rumpled skirts tightly around her small, shivering body, Katrina sat face to face with her new companion.
Moonlight shone through the dilapidated walls, and Katrina could see her intruder was a young man. He looked to be about her age, possibly 18 or 19 years old. His shoulder-length hair was dark brown, and his face was smeared with mud and other unidentifiable grime. His clothing was homemade and dirty. Suddenly very aware of her second-hand silk gown and embroidered bodice, Katrina pulled the cloak tighter around her. She looked back towards the face of the young man, only to discover a pair of piercing, deep blue eyes were staring right back at her. They were the most beautiful eyes Katrina had ever seen, and for a brief moment, Katrina forgot herself entirely.
The young man spoke, forcing Katrina back to reality. “Why’s a high-class lady like you hiding in a dirty barn? You afraid of what’s going on outside?” His Russian was oddly accented, and hinted poor education and rough lifestyle. Katrina quickly became annoyed, as this young man had intruded on her and was now questioning her. She jumped up in a shower of clothing and hay, and began pacing back and forth on the hard dirt floor.
“What am I doing here? You break into my hiding place, scare me half to death, assault me, and have the nerve to ask what I am doing here? I do not have to tell you anything! I would appreciate it if you would leave this place at once!” As she finished talking, Katrina turned back towards the pile of hay. The blue eyes were watching her again, and to her amazement, they seemed to sparkle with amusement. With exaggerated effort, the boy stood up, walked towards the door, and intentionally brushed past Katrina as he did so.
“Beg your pardon. I didn’t realize this was a barn for rich ladies only.” He had his hand on the door, and was about to slide it opened, when a series of gunshots exploded outside. Running footsteps, shouting, and more gunshots were all Katrina heard before she threw herself back into the pile of hay. Feeling movement beside her, Katrina realized the boy had jumped in beside her. She hated to admit it, but she was thankful for his presence.
Roughly thirty minutes passed. From her hiding place, Katrina deducted that the police were attempting to round up a group of the rioters. She believed – and hoped – that the gunfire was only a scare tactic. Cautiously lifting her head for the second time that evening, Katrina looked to where the boy had hidden himself. He was lying on top of the hay, fast asleep and generally unaware of the potential danger that lurked on the other side of the door. Katrina quietly moved closer, and prodded his sleeping side with her foot. Seeing he was beginning to rouse, she poked harder.
“Hey, hey! Boy! Wake up!” He yawned, opened his eyes, and looked directly at Katrina.
“I was sleeping.” He attempted to roll over, but Katrina refused to allow the conversation to end there. Things appeared to be quieting outside, and she wanted to know who he was.
“Wake up,” she loudly whispered. “Aren’t you worried they will come back?”
“No,” he replied, as he slowly sat up and faced her. “And if they do, I bet they’ll be lookin’ for you more than me.” He looked Katrina up and down, taking in her expensive gown, freshly-washed hair, and shoes. “Looks to me like you’ve more reason to hide than I do.”
Katrina hated to admit it, but the boy was right. It had been a well-known fact for years that the Russian people were dissatisfied with Tsar Nicholas II and his wife, Alexandra. The assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand II in Serbia, and the resulting outbreak of the Great War, had only worsened the situation. The Russian people initially supported the Tsar’s decision to go to war in 1914. Now, three years later, millions of Russian soldiers were dead, and Nicholas was hated even more. Katrina had known Nicholas for her entire life, and met Alexandra in 1894. She believed the couple did not deserve the negativity forced upon them, yet she realized a long time ago that revolution was inevitable. Now that the moment had finally arrived, however, Katrina was more afraid than ever.
Busy with her own thoughts, Katrina did not realize the boy had started rummaging through his shirt pockets. Taking an interest in his actions, Katrina moved closer. “What are you doing there, boy?” she asked curiously.
He stopped rummaging, and pulled a partial loaf of bread from his shirt. Smiling proudly, he tore the loaf in half, and offered a piece Katrina. Realizing she had not eaten since the previous evening, she accepted the bread and smiling sheepishly. She was beginning to regret being so rude to him.
“If we’re stuck here together, miss, you might as well stop calling me ‘boy’,” he replied, in between bites. “The name’s Demitri. Demitri Fedorovich. Nice to meet you.” Katrina chewed the bread silently. Surely this boy was harmless. Holding out her hand, and forcing a smile, Katrina looked into his beautiful blue eyes.
“Nice to meet you, Demitri,” she said quietly. “My name is Katrina Alexandrovich, and you are welcome to share my hiding place for the evening.”
Demitri smiled, and returned to his bread. Ignoring her better judgment, Katrina moved closer, and the unlikely pair of young adults shared a meal of stale bread in a strange sort of comfortable silence.
It was some time later, while stretched out upon the hay, that the young pair attempted to have a real conversation.
“What brings you to a deserted barn in the middle of the night?” Katrina asked, turning towards him and propping herself up with an elbow. “You must be hiding from something.”
Demitri also turned, and assumed a similar position. He regarded her face carefully, and not without suspicion. He knew no more about this strange girl than she knew about him, and was unsure of how much information to give away. Deciding it was harmless to talk, he shrugged.
“I got caught up in the revolution, same as you, I guess. I was at work, and a big group of women walked by. They threw rocks at the windows, and yelled as us to come out and walk with them. Many of the men did.”
Katrina shook her head. Things must be more awful than she imagined.
“What did you do?” Katrina asked, feeling slightly ill at the thought of women yelling on the streets.
“I joined in,” Demitri said simply.
“Why?”
“I really had no choice.” Demitri sighed. “You don’t know what it’s like on the streets, Katrina. The poverty takes over a person. We can’t buy nothin’ anymore. People are starving, and dying.”
Katrina shook her head, refusing to believe his words. “That can’t be true! They said things were improving, that people were happier. They said the war brought the Russian people together again. They said…” Katrina stopped, and realized Demitri was watching her quizzically. Fearing she had inadvertently given away too much information, Katrina rolled over and turned her back to him.
A moment later, a hand rested lightly on her arm. From behind her, Demitri spoke quietly. He didn`t try to make her turn over and listen to him.
“So, you’re royalty, aren’t ya?” Demitri must have felt Katrina stiffen at the question, because he quickly removed his hand. A moment passed before he spoke again.
“Don`t worry, I won’t give you up. I knew the first moment I saw you that you were rich, or important, or somethin’. I promise to keep you safe, and won`t let anythin’ happen to you tonight.”
Katrina truly trusted this boy, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, she liked him. Demitri seemed honest, and he was the only working-class person Katrina had met who had not scorned her for serving the Romanov’s. Feeling more comfortable, Katrina rolled over, desperate to share her story with someone. Who knew when it would be safe to speak of the Romanov’s openly again.
“I am not royalty, “she began, feeling it necessary to be honest. “I am… was a maid … to the Duchesses. However, I grew to be a friend, then a sister. My parents died when I was a little girl, and the Tsarina decided I should stay at the palace with the Royal Family. They are good to me… were good to me… oh dear, I don’t even know what’s happened to them!” Her last words flooded out in a torrent of emotion, and before she realized it, Katrina was sobbing. Demitri pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her waist as she cried. He gently rocked her back and forth, and whispered soothing words into her ear.
It must have been difficult to comfort her. Demitri despised the Romanov`s. He shared the frustration that most Russians did, and was relieved the poor were finally taking action. He was planning to join what was quickly becoming a revolution the following day, and was excited for the coming changes Russians would witness. Still, he felt for the tiny girl in his arms. She was so obviously distressed. Demitri slowly rocked Katrina back and forth, and after a time, she stopped crying.
Finally gaining control of her emotions, Katrina slid off Demitri`s lap and shyly avoided his eyes. She mumbled a quiet “thank you,” when he offered his sleeve as a makeshift handkerchief, and pretended to busy herself by reorganizing her skirts. Inwardly, Katrina was embarrassed by her reaction. Demitri had just disclosed that he was starving, and she was crying over nothing. What different lives they led! Suddenly exhausted, Katrina lay down and pulled her cloak over her body for warmth. A few moments passed, and Katrina remembered Demitri was dressed poorly. She hesitated for a moment, but despite her better judgement she raised her head and softly called to him through the darkness.
“You may share my cloak with me, if you like. I know you must be freezing.” There was a brief silence, followed by a rustling in the hay as Demitri settled behind her. He offered his arm as a pillow and the pair lay in silence, each lost in their own thoughts.
Time passed. Eventually, Demitri spoke through the dark.
“Katrina,” he ventured in the dark.
“Mmpphh,” was the almost incoherent reply.
“You`re the most beautiful woman I`ve ever met, and I`ll never forget you.” There was no response. After a moment, Demitri closed his eyes and stopped waiting for an answer. If Katrina was asleep, or simply would not respond, he would never know.
The sound of voices forced Katrina from sleep. Streams of daylight shone through the barn walls, indicating it was morning. Katrina sat up and stretched, painfully attempting to work the cramps out of her arms and legs. It took a moment before she realized she was alone. Scanning the barn with her eyes as she struggled to stand, a spot on the floor caught her attention. In the dirt, in front of the door, a message had been written. Katrina squinted to make out what it said.
“Sorry to leave without saying goodbye. Must find out what happens next. Good luck. Demitri.” Katrina sighed. He had left without waking her up to say goodbye. What had he gone to do? It was silly to think, even for a moment, that Demitri could have been anything more to her than a stranger in the night. These were times of war, revolution, and change, and he was fighting on the opposite side.
Rolling the barn door opened, she stepped into the busy street. She had no idea where she was going, yet knew she needed to keep moving. Russia was changing, and Katrina was determined to secure her future. She bravely walked down the street littered with sleeping bodies, garbage, and blood. Gradually, her silhouette disappeared against the early morning fog, and the next phase of her journey officially began.
December 2, 2009
Stop the Chewing Gum Madness!
On Monday, my friend Tiffany wore an awesome pair of new black pants to school. They were an early Christmas present from her girlfriend, and they were fantastic. During Broadcasting class, she was the "talent" in a game show, and knelt down on the floor for one reason or another. She didn't discover until later that someone had decided to drop their gum on the floor, and that very same gum was now stuck to her new pants. She managed to remove the gum - thankfully - but was less than impressed that someone decided the floor was a good place to discard unwanted foodstuff. I was annoyed that this happened to her, and I decided to write a blog about it.
Yesterday, I was very tired. I was also slightly cranky. When I am overly
sleepy, I refuse to put on actual pants, and instead wear my Lulu lemon yoga pants to school. I did this yesterday, because for some reason, feeling like I'm in pajamas on a sleepy day makes me feel more productive. It was the second-last class of the day, and I was looking forward to going home, WHEN TRAGEDY STRUCK! I have very long legs, and as a result, always have my adjustable chair on the highest possible setting. I was sitting in Journalism class, and realized that the top of my leg was somehow stuck to the underside of the desk I was sitting at. I pulled my leg free, and to my dismay I realized that someone had recently stuck their chewing gum underneath the table. I now had a very large piece of gum stuck to my pants, and like Tiffany the day before, I was thoroughly unimpressed.
My story does not have a happy ending. The gum would not remove itself from my pants, no matter what I tried, and my safe, comfortable, good for a sleepy day pants are now ruined. I want to express my anger and frustration at this situation, and I hope that the person who stuck their gum to the table will read this blog. Find a garbage can or a piece of paper. Do something, ANYTHING else; gum is meant to be in a person's mouth, or a garbage can.
Did you know that chewing gum was banned in Singapore in 1992? The act was revised in 2004, and only gum of "therapeutic value" is allowed in the country. This law was created because of the very thing I am complaining about: people discarded of gum in stupid places, such as under tables or chairs and on the ground. I know that Canadians would be very angry if we were suddenly told we could no longer have chewing gum, so do the right thing. Throw it out. Don't ruin someone's day.
Yesterday, I was very tired. I was also slightly cranky. When I am overly
sleepy, I refuse to put on actual pants, and instead wear my Lulu lemon yoga pants to school. I did this yesterday, because for some reason, feeling like I'm in pajamas on a sleepy day makes me feel more productive. It was the second-last class of the day, and I was looking forward to going home, WHEN TRAGEDY STRUCK! I have very long legs, and as a result, always have my adjustable chair on the highest possible setting. I was sitting in Journalism class, and realized that the top of my leg was somehow stuck to the underside of the desk I was sitting at. I pulled my leg free, and to my dismay I realized that someone had recently stuck their chewing gum underneath the table. I now had a very large piece of gum stuck to my pants, and like Tiffany the day before, I was thoroughly unimpressed.My story does not have a happy ending. The gum would not remove itself from my pants, no matter what I tried, and my safe, comfortable, good for a sleepy day pants are now ruined. I want to express my anger and frustration at this situation, and I hope that the person who stuck their gum to the table will read this blog. Find a garbage can or a piece of paper. Do something, ANYTHING else; gum is meant to be in a person's mouth, or a garbage can.
Did you know that chewing gum was banned in Singapore in 1992? The act was revised in 2004, and only gum of "therapeutic value" is allowed in the country. This law was created because of the very thing I am complaining about: people discarded of gum in stupid places, such as under tables or chairs and on the ground. I know that Canadians would be very angry if we were suddenly told we could no longer have chewing gum, so do the right thing. Throw it out. Don't ruin someone's day.
November 30, 2009
The Projector: An Awesome Charity
A few months ago, my dad ran into his cousin on a plane. They started talking about life, and then began discussing work. My dad's cousin, Ron, told my dad all about a company he works for, called ShelterBox. My dad came home, told me about the company, and I immediately wanted to write a story about it. The following is my article that was recently featured in the Projector, and I hope you like it:
They have provided emergency living environments for over 500,000 disaster victims worldwide. They have offices in eight countries, Canada included. They provide assistance within 48-hours of getting a call. Yet, very few people have ever heard of them.
The ShelterBox organization was founded by a Rotary Club member in England. With 80 full-time ShelterBox ambassadors, and a few hundred additional volunteers, the Canadian branch of ShelterBox is an important part of a large, worldwide operation.
The name, ShelterBox, directly represents the product. They are transportable shelters in a box. Each box contains necessary survival supplies for ten people, including a tunnel tent, sleeping bags, a multi-fuel stove, a water purification system, cooking supplies, and various tools and equipment. Nearly 30,000 boxes have been sent throughout the world since 2001. Countries such as Romania, India, Indonesia, Haiti, Iraq, and Afghanistan have benefitted. The supplies are of the highest quality, and it costs $1200 to sponsor a box.
Don Ohlgren, Executive President of ShelterBox Canada, became involved with the organization after a speaker visited his Rotary Club in 2004. After volunteering to help ShelterBox during the disasters in China and Burma last year, Don and his wife, Anne, began working for the organization. “We were tasked by England to take on the full-time position of managing ShelterBox Canada.” He explained that “we constantly work with all the major organizations,” including the United Nations and the Red Cross.
“Others do food, medicine, rescue and the like, but we are specialists in shelter and nothing else. That’s why we are so good and so fast at what we do,” he said.
Canada currently raises 8 to 9 per cent of all worldwide donations, with only 730 Rotary Clubs throughout the country to work within. The future goal for ShelterBox Canada, according to Ohlgren, is to prepare over 5000 boxes per year within five years. That is within Canada alone. “Worldwide,” he explained, “ShelterBox will be doing over 50,000 boxes per year, and Canada wants to be at least ten per cent of that total every year.”
Sylvia King, ShelterBox ambassador in Winnipeg, feels fulfilled working for the organization.
"As individuals who live in such an affluent country as Canada, with very few dramatic natural disasters, it is a privilege to serve those individuals in the world who are so much less fortunate.” King does not foresee the need for the organization decreasing. “There are constantly more and more disasters occurring worldwide, resulting in more need for boxes than ShelterBox can meet,” she said.
“The best part about working for ShelterBox,” explained Ohlgren, “has been meeting fabulous volunteers and like-minded people all across Canada who want to help out other people they will know and will never meet, but are still willing to financially aid them in times of disaster.”
For more information, or to donate or volunteer, visit: www.shelterbox.ca
They have provided emergency living environments for over 500,000 disaster victims worldwide. They have offices in eight countries, Canada included. They provide assistance within 48-hours of getting a call. Yet, very few people have ever heard of them.
The ShelterBox organization was founded by a Rotary Club member in England. With 80 full-time ShelterBox ambassadors, and a few hundred additional volunteers, the Canadian branch of ShelterBox is an important part of a large, worldwide operation.
The name, ShelterBox, directly represents the product. They are transportable shelters in a box. Each box contains necessary survival supplies for ten people, including a tunnel tent, sleeping bags, a multi-fuel stove, a water purification system, cooking supplies, and various tools and equipment. Nearly 30,000 boxes have been sent throughout the world since 2001. Countries such as Romania, India, Indonesia, Haiti, Iraq, and Afghanistan have benefitted. The supplies are of the highest quality, and it costs $1200 to sponsor a box.
Don Ohlgren, Executive President of ShelterBox Canada, became involved with the organization after a speaker visited his Rotary Club in 2004. After volunteering to help ShelterBox during the disasters in China and Burma last year, Don and his wife, Anne, began working for the organization. “We were tasked by England to take on the full-time position of managing ShelterBox Canada.” He explained that “we constantly work with all the major organizations,” including the United Nations and the Red Cross.
“Others do food, medicine, rescue and the like, but we are specialists in shelter and nothing else. That’s why we are so good and so fast at what we do,” he said.
Canada currently raises 8 to 9 per cent of all worldwide donations, with only 730 Rotary Clubs throughout the country to work within. The future goal for ShelterBox Canada, according to Ohlgren, is to prepare over 5000 boxes per year within five years. That is within Canada alone. “Worldwide,” he explained, “ShelterBox will be doing over 50,000 boxes per year, and Canada wants to be at least ten per cent of that total every year.”
Sylvia King, ShelterBox ambassador in Winnipeg, feels fulfilled working for the organization.
"As individuals who live in such an affluent country as Canada, with very few dramatic natural disasters, it is a privilege to serve those individuals in the world who are so much less fortunate.” King does not foresee the need for the organization decreasing. “There are constantly more and more disasters occurring worldwide, resulting in more need for boxes than ShelterBox can meet,” she said.
“The best part about working for ShelterBox,” explained Ohlgren, “has been meeting fabulous volunteers and like-minded people all across Canada who want to help out other people they will know and will never meet, but are still willing to financially aid them in times of disaster.”
For more information, or to donate or volunteer, visit: www.shelterbox.ca
November 27, 2009
A Wedding Intro NOT for Everyone...
... but definitely for me! I stumbled upon this video while I was procrastinating earlier today, and just had to post it. I have seen the video where the couple busts out a choreographed dance routine during their first dance at the reception, but have never seen a dance routine during the actual ceremony itself. It is such a clever and fun idea!
Now all I have to do is convince someone to marry me, and I can come up with my own choreographed something. I hope you like it!
Now all I have to do is convince someone to marry me, and I can come up with my own choreographed something. I hope you like it!
November 26, 2009
Study Tips to Save Your Life
To say the least, yesterday was an eventful day. I arrived at campus at about 7:30 a.m., and diligently began working on the massive amount of school work I needed to complete. I was feeling pretty good until about 2 p.m., when I had to confront a large pile of data for a PR research project. Now, I'm not complaining, but I'm afraid of numbers. I'm a Creative Communications student... we can't do math. My group mates - Tiffany and Jenn - were also confused, and slightly perturbed by the information we had to organize. It was only a matter of time before we each hit sensory overload.
The following is a list of what my classmates and I did yesterday to cope with stress (and survive without killing one another). I hope you find it entertaining:
The following is a list of what my classmates and I did yesterday to cope with stress (and survive without killing one another). I hope you find it entertaining:
- At lunch, we discussed our plans for Christmas (and this is becoming a popular conversation among CreComm's).
- The talk about a break from school initiated the talk about movies, and we wrote down a list of titles we need to watch in the near future (J.B hasn't seen very many musicals, so it looks like he will be spending a lot of time experiencing such wonders as Grease, Moulin Rouge, and The Rocky Horror Picture Show).
- Doing a little dance is always helpful... or contemplating how to retrieve a paper airplane that is stuck on the outside ledge of a windowsill on the second floor.
- When you are feeling stressed, a good yoga pose can do amazing things. Especially when that yoga pose is conducted by three people simultaneously in a stairwell.
- Sometimes one just needs to be removed from the situation completely, and therefore, I give you the King's Head Pub. They have a great menu, and a relaxed atmosphere. Sometimes you just need to get away. Thankfully, our little study group maxed out at the same time, and we had a great dinner experience.
- When in a hurry, or when speeding down Portage Avenue in an attempt to find a vacant edit suite for a radio assignment, a good, fast-paced rock song will make the experience more memorable. Some waving and honking at strangers is also helpful, as it creates a festive air.
It was a truly interesting day yesterday, but I can't say I'm eager to live it over again. I want to finish this blog with a shout out to the people who helped me... You know who you are, and I love you!
November 25, 2009
I've Discovered Twitter... and it's Twitteriffic!
I tried to fight it for as long as possible, but today my PR instructor, Melanie, forced me to subscribe to Twitter. Initially, I was sceptical. What possible benefit could Twitter have for me? I know I want to be a journalism major, and I am not planning on pursuing a career in Public Relations. So, what's the point? Within about 10 minutes of searching through the site, however, I realized that Twitter contains a vast amount of information. I have been missing out by ignoring it these past few years, and I have to catch
up!
We were instructed to add 10 people to our account, and my mind started swimming with possibilities. Authors, actors, writers, historians... I could add anyone, and become privy to their daily thoughts and activities. I started by adding Bartley Kives from the Winnipeg Free Press (because I do want to be a journalist, and he writes some great stuff), and then ventured towards music. So far, I am following 28 Twitter accounts, and the list will continue to grow as I think of additional people to add. I even added the Musee D'Louvre, and even though the Tweets are in French, I get the gist.
The moral of the story is that Twitter is in fact a good idea, and I feel that everyone should sign up. I will Tweet my followers when I have a new blog post. Hopefully readership of my blog will drastically increase as a result! Twitter on all!
up!We were instructed to add 10 people to our account, and my mind started swimming with possibilities. Authors, actors, writers, historians... I could add anyone, and become privy to their daily thoughts and activities. I started by adding Bartley Kives from the Winnipeg Free Press (because I do want to be a journalist, and he writes some great stuff), and then ventured towards music. So far, I am following 28 Twitter accounts, and the list will continue to grow as I think of additional people to add. I even added the Musee D'Louvre, and even though the Tweets are in French, I get the gist.
The moral of the story is that Twitter is in fact a good idea, and I feel that everyone should sign up. I will Tweet my followers when I have a new blog post. Hopefully readership of my blog will drastically increase as a result! Twitter on all!
November 23, 2009
Mario Music Equals Theme Songs For Life
When I was growing up, we had a Super Nintendo. We never had the original Nintendo, but my friends did, and I played that one as well. For children of my generation, characters like Mario, Luigi, Yogi, and the Princess were common staples to daily life. I enjoyed the games, like everyone else, but I must admit that the background music within certain video games affected me more.
What I loved about the music, in both Super Mario and Original Mario, was that it changed appropriately depending on the game level. Above-ground, normal paced levels had the basic music common within most levels. Underground, darker levels received a
deeper, more defined tune. In fast-paced levels, a quicker, choppier music really got the player in the mood to kick some ass, take names, and reach the end. And don’t forget the somewhat slow, marine-like tune that accompanied under-water levels. That was one of my favourites, because I actually felt like I was swimming.
I believe that any situation in life can be defined by one of the Mario background songs. If you are late for class, or chasing the bus, think about the fast Mario tune. If you are doing laps in a swimming pool, think about the underwater Mario tune. And, if you are walking down a back alley, unsure of your future, the deeper, underground tune will get you through it. Sing the songs out loud, recount them in your head, or download to an iPod or other music device. Find the system that works for you, and follow it. Mario music can define your entire life, and can make any situation a whole new level of fun!
What I loved about the music, in both Super Mario and Original Mario, was that it changed appropriately depending on the game level. Above-ground, normal paced levels had the basic music common within most levels. Underground, darker levels received a
deeper, more defined tune. In fast-paced levels, a quicker, choppier music really got the player in the mood to kick some ass, take names, and reach the end. And don’t forget the somewhat slow, marine-like tune that accompanied under-water levels. That was one of my favourites, because I actually felt like I was swimming.I believe that any situation in life can be defined by one of the Mario background songs. If you are late for class, or chasing the bus, think about the fast Mario tune. If you are doing laps in a swimming pool, think about the underwater Mario tune. And, if you are walking down a back alley, unsure of your future, the deeper, underground tune will get you through it. Sing the songs out loud, recount them in your head, or download to an iPod or other music device. Find the system that works for you, and follow it. Mario music can define your entire life, and can make any situation a whole new level of fun!
November 20, 2009
Where Do All The Road Cones Go?
I realize this is an interesting topic for a blog, but I have a serious question that needs to be thoroughly addressed. I was driving home through a construction zone a few weeks ago, and accidentally ran over one of those orange road cones. I know, I know, I should have been paying attention, but I swear it was strategically placed in a bad location. I continued driving, while cursing under my breath. Those stupid things are absolutely everywhere. This brings me to my question. How many cones does the city have in use on streets at any given time? Hundreds? Thousands? I bet the number is definitely in the thousands. So, what I'm wondering is: where do all the road cones come from?
When you actually stop to think about it, the concept will blow your mind. Mose people have heard the joke that Winnipeg has two seasons, winter and construction. This is true, year after year, and I have personally driven through more construction zones than I can count. And construction occurs simultaneously all throughout Winnipeg. This means that somewhere in the city there must be a place filled with City of Winnipeg road cones, and it must have enough stock to supp
ly construction projects throughout the entire city.
Such a place must exist, and I want to know where this road cone palace of wonders is located. I also want to know if there is one person from the city assigned the important task of watching over the cone warehouse to ensure no one steals anything. You can picture it. A lonely man, the middle of the night. Nothing to keep him company but the thousands of road cones sitting quietly on shelves. I bet it's cold in there; cones don't need heat. I want to meet this person. I would buy him (or her, I guess) a coffee, bring some donuts, and ask what the road cone protection business entails. There HAS TO be a warehouse somewhere, because when winter hits, most construction disappears.
To take it one step further, think about every city in the world. I'm sure most large cities have road cones. Where do they go? And, to twist your mind even further, how many cone warehouses do you think there are in the entire WORLD?! Now there's a thought...
When you actually stop to think about it, the concept will blow your mind. Mose people have heard the joke that Winnipeg has two seasons, winter and construction. This is true, year after year, and I have personally driven through more construction zones than I can count. And construction occurs simultaneously all throughout Winnipeg. This means that somewhere in the city there must be a place filled with City of Winnipeg road cones, and it must have enough stock to supp
ly construction projects throughout the entire city.
Such a place must exist, and I want to know where this road cone palace of wonders is located. I also want to know if there is one person from the city assigned the important task of watching over the cone warehouse to ensure no one steals anything. You can picture it. A lonely man, the middle of the night. Nothing to keep him company but the thousands of road cones sitting quietly on shelves. I bet it's cold in there; cones don't need heat. I want to meet this person. I would buy him (or her, I guess) a coffee, bring some donuts, and ask what the road cone protection business entails. There HAS TO be a warehouse somewhere, because when winter hits, most construction disappears.
To take it one step further, think about every city in the world. I'm sure most large cities have road cones. Where do they go? And, to twist your mind even further, how many cone warehouses do you think there are in the entire WORLD?! Now there's a thought...
November 18, 2009
How To Survive a Zombie Outbreak
DISCLAIMER: The events in the following essay have not yet happened. This was an assignment for one of my classes, so do not be alarmed when you read the part about everyone you love being dead. This following is a How-To essay designed to teach the public what to do WHEN a zombie outbreak occurs. Print it out, put it in your wallet or purse, and ensure you can refer to it quickly in the event of an emergency. You will be glad you did. Good luck to us all...
The world, as we know it, has ended. Either a massive flu pandemic has broken out, or a deadly, unknown disease has escaped from a high security facility. Regardless, the majority of humans are now dead. Unfortunately, those who died have not remained dead, and instead have begun to roam the planet in search of living people on which to feed. Simply stated, you are now being hunted by creatures commonly referred to as zombies. And depend
ing on the virus or disease that infected them, you are either being hunted by slow, stupid, awkward zombies, or fast, screaming, infected-with-rage zombies. But do not panic. The following is a guide of three easy steps that must be understood in order to survive a zombie outbreak. Do not refer to such books as The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead, because the information is not up-to-date. Following my three-step system is paramount, and complying with the information might just save you from becoming someone’s dinner.
The first step to surviving a zombie outbreak is acceptance of the situation. This is much easier said than done, as most people will have a difficult time when they realize everyone they have ever cared about is most likely dead. A variety of emotions will occur as you struggle to make sense of what has happened. Crying or hysteria will occur almost immediately; shock and fear will follow soon after. Next, rage will take over, and this is the emotion that can be the most problematic. Many people will want to grab the first available weapon-like object and destroy every zombie around as a way to avenge the deaths of loved ones. It is paramount that you fight this urge. Angry weapon wielding usually results in a zombie-inflicted injury, leaving you in the same position as those you lost. Find some way to stay occupied, and allow anger to pass like the previous emotions. If you successfully work through the rage phase without getting yourself killed, feelings of acceptance and calmness will take over. This is good, as it means you are now ready to move forward.
The second, and most important step to zombie survival, is preparation. If a zombie outbreak were ever to actually occur, the government would set up a recovery plan. This means help will arrive, sooner or later, and all you need to do is stay alive until you are found. To do this, preparation is necessary. First, find the nearest police station or military base, and stock up on the following: guns, ammunition, swords, machetes, various explosives, blow torches, and a bow and arrow. Next, locate the nearest department store, and collect canned food, bottled water, first-aid supplies, flashlights, batteries, a portable radio, and rope. Load everything into a dependable, working vehicle. Hopefully, you will be far away before the zombies are attracted by the noise of the car engine. Fill up at the nearest gas station, and fill as many portable gas cans as humanly possible. Finally, begin driving to the nearest body of water where large boats are moored.
It is a known fact that zombies are unable to swim. They will attempt to follow you into the water, but
will gradually drown. This is precisely why in step three it is necessary to find both a sailboat and lots of water. Technically, any type of boat would do in a desperate situation, but a sailboat eliminates the problem of running out of gas. Pack the boat with the supplies you have collected, and set sail through your chosen body of water. Do not follow an approach similar to that highlighted in the movie Dawn of the Dead, where survivors hide in a local mall. This is short-term solution, as zombies will gradually surround your hideout and make escape impossible. Help will arrive eventually, and waiting on the water where zombies cannot reach you will increase the chance of survival. It is important, however, to be on the lookout at all times. Do not assume you are safe simply because you are on the water.
Attempting to live through a zombie outbreak can be a trying and terrifying experience for anyone. This is why it is extremely important to fully understand and implement the three easy steps that make survival possible. Allotting adequate time for acceptance, preparation, and escape will separate you from those who do not have a serious will to live. The well-organized steps and industrious methods you exhibit may even impress the rescue teams, resulting in a high-ranking political position in the post-zombie world. Following the zombie outbreak how-to guide will not only save your life, it will steer you towards a more powerful future. Just remember to choose your survival partners carefully, and when killing zombies, aim for the head.
The world, as we know it, has ended. Either a massive flu pandemic has broken out, or a deadly, unknown disease has escaped from a high security facility. Regardless, the majority of humans are now dead. Unfortunately, those who died have not remained dead, and instead have begun to roam the planet in search of living people on which to feed. Simply stated, you are now being hunted by creatures commonly referred to as zombies. And depend
ing on the virus or disease that infected them, you are either being hunted by slow, stupid, awkward zombies, or fast, screaming, infected-with-rage zombies. But do not panic. The following is a guide of three easy steps that must be understood in order to survive a zombie outbreak. Do not refer to such books as The Zombie Survival Guide: Complete Protection from the Living Dead, because the information is not up-to-date. Following my three-step system is paramount, and complying with the information might just save you from becoming someone’s dinner.The first step to surviving a zombie outbreak is acceptance of the situation. This is much easier said than done, as most people will have a difficult time when they realize everyone they have ever cared about is most likely dead. A variety of emotions will occur as you struggle to make sense of what has happened. Crying or hysteria will occur almost immediately; shock and fear will follow soon after. Next, rage will take over, and this is the emotion that can be the most problematic. Many people will want to grab the first available weapon-like object and destroy every zombie around as a way to avenge the deaths of loved ones. It is paramount that you fight this urge. Angry weapon wielding usually results in a zombie-inflicted injury, leaving you in the same position as those you lost. Find some way to stay occupied, and allow anger to pass like the previous emotions. If you successfully work through the rage phase without getting yourself killed, feelings of acceptance and calmness will take over. This is good, as it means you are now ready to move forward.
The second, and most important step to zombie survival, is preparation. If a zombie outbreak were ever to actually occur, the government would set up a recovery plan. This means help will arrive, sooner or later, and all you need to do is stay alive until you are found. To do this, preparation is necessary. First, find the nearest police station or military base, and stock up on the following: guns, ammunition, swords, machetes, various explosives, blow torches, and a bow and arrow. Next, locate the nearest department store, and collect canned food, bottled water, first-aid supplies, flashlights, batteries, a portable radio, and rope. Load everything into a dependable, working vehicle. Hopefully, you will be far away before the zombies are attracted by the noise of the car engine. Fill up at the nearest gas station, and fill as many portable gas cans as humanly possible. Finally, begin driving to the nearest body of water where large boats are moored.
It is a known fact that zombies are unable to swim. They will attempt to follow you into the water, but
will gradually drown. This is precisely why in step three it is necessary to find both a sailboat and lots of water. Technically, any type of boat would do in a desperate situation, but a sailboat eliminates the problem of running out of gas. Pack the boat with the supplies you have collected, and set sail through your chosen body of water. Do not follow an approach similar to that highlighted in the movie Dawn of the Dead, where survivors hide in a local mall. This is short-term solution, as zombies will gradually surround your hideout and make escape impossible. Help will arrive eventually, and waiting on the water where zombies cannot reach you will increase the chance of survival. It is important, however, to be on the lookout at all times. Do not assume you are safe simply because you are on the water.
Attempting to live through a zombie outbreak can be a trying and terrifying experience for anyone. This is why it is extremely important to fully understand and implement the three easy steps that make survival possible. Allotting adequate time for acceptance, preparation, and escape will separate you from those who do not have a serious will to live. The well-organized steps and industrious methods you exhibit may even impress the rescue teams, resulting in a high-ranking political position in the post-zombie world. Following the zombie outbreak how-to guide will not only save your life, it will steer you towards a more powerful future. Just remember to choose your survival partners carefully, and when killing zombies, aim for the head.
November 15, 2009
My Travels: Switzerland
In Switzerland, my tour group stayed in a chateau, in a valley, beside a river, across a bridge from the town. It was supposed to be a chance to relax and explore before driving into Italy, and it was definitely worth the stop. The weather was slightly “chilly” by European summer standards, wh
ich basically meant that a person needed to wear a sweater and socks. (I will point out, however, that this WAS in fact the first time I had worn socks since London. I didn’t care for socks very much at the time). I will write a specific blog about scenery later, but I will say now that the country is absolutely gorgeous. Switzerland looks similar to Austria, except instead of hills there are mountains and crystal clear lakes. Waterfalls dot the mountains, and a light fog settles over everything. It’s hard to describe how beautiful it really was, and unfortunately, pictures don’t do it justice.
My brother Chris and I wandered through the town, which looks similar to the town in Austria. One of the highlights of our walk was stumbling across an old cemetery. Some of the gravestones date back to the early 19th century. Each stone is different, and they all are large and impressive looking. A church and a waterfall complete the background behind the cemetery, and all of the plots are perfectly groomed. What I found to be the most impressive part of this cemetery was the fact that every single grave ha
d a large bouquet of flowers on top of it. Not just some of them. All of them. Chris and I wondered if there was someone who did this on purpose, like a grave-keeper or caretaker or whatever you call him, or if family members actually care enough to replenish the flowers. I like to think it’s the latter, but I’ll let you decide for yourself. I took roughly 50 pictures at the cemetery, and I hope you think it’s beautiful too...
We also stopped in Lucerne, which is the most photographed city in all of Europe. After spending some time there, I understand why. The entire city looks like it could be a postcard. It doesn’t matter which direction you look, it’s beautiful everywhere. I spe
nt a good 15 minutes just STARING, and my brother had to force me to start walking. What really stopped me in my tracks was a bridge covered with flowers. It is just sitting there, in the middle of the city, and I’m pretty sure it’s been there for a long time. As I walked across it, I felt like I was in a completely different world, and that I had crossed over into some alternate universe. Chris and I spent a good 30 minutes taking pictures, and I wish I could have spent more time in Lucerne. I will tell anyone who is planning to visit Switzerland that they must go there. On my next trip, i’m going to stay for a week.
ich basically meant that a person needed to wear a sweater and socks. (I will point out, however, that this WAS in fact the first time I had worn socks since London. I didn’t care for socks very much at the time). I will write a specific blog about scenery later, but I will say now that the country is absolutely gorgeous. Switzerland looks similar to Austria, except instead of hills there are mountains and crystal clear lakes. Waterfalls dot the mountains, and a light fog settles over everything. It’s hard to describe how beautiful it really was, and unfortunately, pictures don’t do it justice.
My brother Chris and I wandered through the town, which looks similar to the town in Austria. One of the highlights of our walk was stumbling across an old cemetery. Some of the gravestones date back to the early 19th century. Each stone is different, and they all are large and impressive looking. A church and a waterfall complete the background behind the cemetery, and all of the plots are perfectly groomed. What I found to be the most impressive part of this cemetery was the fact that every single grave ha
d a large bouquet of flowers on top of it. Not just some of them. All of them. Chris and I wondered if there was someone who did this on purpose, like a grave-keeper or caretaker or whatever you call him, or if family members actually care enough to replenish the flowers. I like to think it’s the latter, but I’ll let you decide for yourself. I took roughly 50 pictures at the cemetery, and I hope you think it’s beautiful too...We also stopped in Lucerne, which is the most photographed city in all of Europe. After spending some time there, I understand why. The entire city looks like it could be a postcard. It doesn’t matter which direction you look, it’s beautiful everywhere. I spe
nt a good 15 minutes just STARING, and my brother had to force me to start walking. What really stopped me in my tracks was a bridge covered with flowers. It is just sitting there, in the middle of the city, and I’m pretty sure it’s been there for a long time. As I walked across it, I felt like I was in a completely different world, and that I had crossed over into some alternate universe. Chris and I spent a good 30 minutes taking pictures, and I wish I could have spent more time in Lucerne. I will tell anyone who is planning to visit Switzerland that they must go there. On my next trip, i’m going to stay for a week.
November 12, 2009
My Travels: Austria
It was in Austria that I went on a 25 km mountain bike ride with my tour group. I honestly believed I was going to die before I finished it. To be fair, the scenery was spectacular. I felt like I was in a scene from “The Sound of Music,” just without the singin
g kids and Nazis. We biked through the hills, through a field dotted with farmhouses, along a river, up, up, and up some more. The cement path turned to gravel, the gravel to dirt. I couldn’t take pictures, because I needed to focus all of my attention on navigating through the wilderness. One girl passed out; another told us we were all insane, and turned back. I got one hell of sunburn, for the second time since my trip began in London. By the time we had finished and returned to the hostel, my legs and butt had turned to putty. I was still smiling, however, because I was in Austria.
We stayed i
n the small town of Hopfgarten, which is pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Everything is green and lush, and every single house has window boxes complete with blooming, fragrant flowers. Most people will have seen houses like the ones in Austria before; the facades are light-coloured stucco, with boards painted in dark colours nailed in criss-cross designs along the walls. There is only one main road snaking through the town, and I’m pretty sure most people own mountain bikes as their main form of transportation. I wonder how tough their butts are...
In the afternoon, I followed Chris and another friend we had made to a nearby fishing pond. This was not, however, and ordinary fishing trip. We arrived at a manicured and stocked pond, located in a valley beside the river. There is a nominal fee, which
covers the fishing rod rental and one fish. The interesting aspect of this fishing hole is what happens to the fish once it is caught. First, after catching a fish, the fisherman is expected to hit it over the head with a wooden pole that is provided. The hitting continues until the fish is dead. Second, a waiting employee collects the fish. They take it, clean it, cook it, and serve it to the fisherman in a restaurant adjoining the pond. Beer is also available, to compliment the fish and add to the overall dining experience. Talk about a strange situation! I was going to include photos of my brother beating the crap out of the fish, but I decided to hold off for two reasons. One, I don't want to turn anyone off of fish. Two, he really didn't kill it well. He kept hammering away at the head, over and over again, while screaming "why won't you just DIE." The waiting employee looked very unimpressed, and a few spectators appeared to be horrified...
I didn’t go fishing, (because the idea of beating a fish over the head and eating it freaked me out) and opted to sit, drink beer, and read a book at a shady table. I had a nice conversation with a group of Austrians about Angels and Demons, the Dan Brown novel I was reading in preparation for my visit to Rome the following week. They hadn’t heard of the book, or of Dan Brown for that matter, but wanted to know everything and anything I could tell them
about Canada. It was slightly difficult, as they spoke very little English, and I even less German, yet I tried my best to oblige. One man told me that he knew he would never see Canada in person. Another woman told me (through her husband, who was translating) that I was the first Canadian girl she had ever talked to. After the conversation ended, I felt both fortunate and humble. I am able to travel the world, and see many different places. Some people aren’t as lucky, and I shouldn’t take my travel experiences for granted.
Austria was a brief stopover, but it was definitely memorable. On my next trip to Europe, I plan to spend more time there. I would love to visit the cities, especially Vienna. BUT, you couldn’t PAY ME to go on another 25 km bike ride. Never, ever again.
g kids and Nazis. We biked through the hills, through a field dotted with farmhouses, along a river, up, up, and up some more. The cement path turned to gravel, the gravel to dirt. I couldn’t take pictures, because I needed to focus all of my attention on navigating through the wilderness. One girl passed out; another told us we were all insane, and turned back. I got one hell of sunburn, for the second time since my trip began in London. By the time we had finished and returned to the hostel, my legs and butt had turned to putty. I was still smiling, however, because I was in Austria.We stayed i
n the small town of Hopfgarten, which is pretty much in the middle of nowhere. Everything is green and lush, and every single house has window boxes complete with blooming, fragrant flowers. Most people will have seen houses like the ones in Austria before; the facades are light-coloured stucco, with boards painted in dark colours nailed in criss-cross designs along the walls. There is only one main road snaking through the town, and I’m pretty sure most people own mountain bikes as their main form of transportation. I wonder how tough their butts are...In the afternoon, I followed Chris and another friend we had made to a nearby fishing pond. This was not, however, and ordinary fishing trip. We arrived at a manicured and stocked pond, located in a valley beside the river. There is a nominal fee, which
covers the fishing rod rental and one fish. The interesting aspect of this fishing hole is what happens to the fish once it is caught. First, after catching a fish, the fisherman is expected to hit it over the head with a wooden pole that is provided. The hitting continues until the fish is dead. Second, a waiting employee collects the fish. They take it, clean it, cook it, and serve it to the fisherman in a restaurant adjoining the pond. Beer is also available, to compliment the fish and add to the overall dining experience. Talk about a strange situation! I was going to include photos of my brother beating the crap out of the fish, but I decided to hold off for two reasons. One, I don't want to turn anyone off of fish. Two, he really didn't kill it well. He kept hammering away at the head, over and over again, while screaming "why won't you just DIE." The waiting employee looked very unimpressed, and a few spectators appeared to be horrified...I didn’t go fishing, (because the idea of beating a fish over the head and eating it freaked me out) and opted to sit, drink beer, and read a book at a shady table. I had a nice conversation with a group of Austrians about Angels and Demons, the Dan Brown novel I was reading in preparation for my visit to Rome the following week. They hadn’t heard of the book, or of Dan Brown for that matter, but wanted to know everything and anything I could tell them
about Canada. It was slightly difficult, as they spoke very little English, and I even less German, yet I tried my best to oblige. One man told me that he knew he would never see Canada in person. Another woman told me (through her husband, who was translating) that I was the first Canadian girl she had ever talked to. After the conversation ended, I felt both fortunate and humble. I am able to travel the world, and see many different places. Some people aren’t as lucky, and I shouldn’t take my travel experiences for granted.Austria was a brief stopover, but it was definitely memorable. On my next trip to Europe, I plan to spend more time there. I would love to visit the cities, especially Vienna. BUT, you couldn’t PAY ME to go on another 25 km bike ride. Never, ever again.
November 11, 2009
The Hallway
It stretches out in front of me,
Cold, dark,
Waiting to envelop me.
It represents everything I hate to be,
Hollow, alone,
Trapped and not free.
I quicken my pace and stare ahead,
Walls, pipes,
My footsteps are dead.
The silence is louder than any scream,
Piercing, dominating,
Worse than a dream.
My heart quickens with each step,
Louder, faster,
Focus on each step.
Cannot fight the feelings of dread,
Swarming, controlling,
Owning my head.
I finally reach the end of the pathway,
Bright, inviting,
The next hallway.
A new place for me to explore,
Curious, open,
Right through the door.
Cold, dark,
Waiting to envelop me.
It represents everything I hate to be,
Hollow, alone,
Trapped and not free.
I quicken my pace and stare ahead,
Walls, pipes,
My footsteps are dead.
The silence is louder than any scream,
Piercing, dominating,
Worse than a dream.
My heart quickens with each step,
Louder, faster,
Focus on each step.
Cannot fight the feelings of dread,
Swarming, controlling,
Owning my head.
I finally reach the end of the pathway,
Bright, inviting,
The next hallway.
A new place for me to explore,
Curious, open,
Right through the door.
November 9, 2009
My Travels: Amsterdam
The two days I spent in the Netherlands were educational, to say the least. With the tour, we stayed in Amsterdam, but also visited the small town of Edam. Our hostel was in a seedy area, which was slightly frightening, but I did manage to meet many interesting people while sitting on the front steps. An above-ground tram went past the front of 
our hostel, and I could hear the constant dinging from my window.
Edam is truly a magical place, and I think I would have seen tiny fairies floating around if I sat in one spot long enough. Personally, I could retire there. Edam is a small, sleepy town, complete with ringing bell tower and pristine canals. Out tour group rented a fleet of “granny bikes,” (the ones where you have to push the pedals backwards to brake) and lazily pedalled up and down the cobblestone streets. The houses that line each street are small, cute, and Dutch. Most people have a boat docked in the canal in front of their home, and the town boasts more lily pads, weeping willows, and bridges than I could count. Edam is also famous for cheese, and we visited a cheese and clog factory before returning to the city. My brother was about ten seconds away from buying a pair of clogs, but we were able to talk him out of it. They are comfortable and handmade, but where would you wear them at home?
Amsterdam is basically the complete opposite of Edam. It is a large and crowded city, but it is still equally as beautiful. The streets are lined with buildings that are very tall and very o
ld. At any given time, I was 2 blocks away from a canal. Most people own boats, and they also own bicycles. The Dutch people have more bikes per capita than any other European nation, which makes sense, considering the country is virtually flat. There is even a huge, 5-level parkade beside the main train station dedicated to bike storage only. It if would have had more time, it would have been interesting to figure out just how many bikes are housed there. I would wager it is easily somewhere in the tens of thousands.
For me, the most important part of my visit to Amsterdam was spending the afternoon in the Van G
ogh Museum. Vincent Van Gogh has been my favourite painter since I was young. Being able to view so many pieces of his artwork at one time, in one location, is a privilege. I felt truly blessed as I slowly walked through the museum. Photographs and prints don`t do his work justice. When you are close to a Van Gogh painting, you can actually see each of the individual brush strokes. It is magnificent.
Other highlights in Amsterdam included a visit to the Anne Frank House (which was very moving, despite being packed in like a sardine with about 100 other people), a canal cruise, a stop at the I amsterdam sign, and various random wanderings (which took us to a flower market, a coffee shop, and the Red Light District). I can`t really comment further about my random wanderings, but I will say the Red Light District is everything it is rumoured to be and more. There really are girls in the windows, as well as shops that sell everything imaginable. Taking pictures is forbidden, and even pulling out your camera could result in it being thrown into a canal.
An experience that I will share occurred our last night in Amsterdam. Our group was hopping from one disco to the next in the Red Light District, and ended up in
a small bar. The bar started filling up quickly, and before I knew it, the whole place was completely packed with people. What made this so fascinating was that EVERYONE started dancing. Back home, a lot of guys stand at the side and watch the ladies dance. Not in Europe. Everyone, and I mean everyone, participates. The part that really got me, however, was the realization that everyone was also singing the words to the songs being played by the DJ. The music was North American, and the lyrics were in English, yet the entire bar was singing along. I had an opportunity to meet some people later that evening. In that single bar, I spoke to individuals from Brazil, Ireland, Australia, Japan, Jamaica, South Africa, and Sweden. Many of them could only speak basic English, and one guy admitted he had no idea what the words to the songs actually meant. That didn`t stop him from singing along. In that bar, in Amsterdam, I felt the greatest feeling of community I have ever felt in my life. We were all from different places, different background, yet we came together, partied together, and sang and danced together. It was something I will never forget.
I probably slept for about 4 hours the entire time I was in the Netherlands, but I don’t regret the lack of sleep for a second. After 2 days, however, I was excited to move on. The next stop on the agenda was Berlin, and the history girl in me was already starting to hyperventilate.
our hostel, and I could hear the constant dinging from my window.Edam is truly a magical place, and I think I would have seen tiny fairies floating around if I sat in one spot long enough. Personally, I could retire there. Edam is a small, sleepy town, complete with ringing bell tower and pristine canals. Out tour group rented a fleet of “granny bikes,” (the ones where you have to push the pedals backwards to brake) and lazily pedalled up and down the cobblestone streets. The houses that line each street are small, cute, and Dutch. Most people have a boat docked in the canal in front of their home, and the town boasts more lily pads, weeping willows, and bridges than I could count. Edam is also famous for cheese, and we visited a cheese and clog factory before returning to the city. My brother was about ten seconds away from buying a pair of clogs, but we were able to talk him out of it. They are comfortable and handmade, but where would you wear them at home?
Amsterdam is basically the complete opposite of Edam. It is a large and crowded city, but it is still equally as beautiful. The streets are lined with buildings that are very tall and very o
ld. At any given time, I was 2 blocks away from a canal. Most people own boats, and they also own bicycles. The Dutch people have more bikes per capita than any other European nation, which makes sense, considering the country is virtually flat. There is even a huge, 5-level parkade beside the main train station dedicated to bike storage only. It if would have had more time, it would have been interesting to figure out just how many bikes are housed there. I would wager it is easily somewhere in the tens of thousands.For me, the most important part of my visit to Amsterdam was spending the afternoon in the Van G
ogh Museum. Vincent Van Gogh has been my favourite painter since I was young. Being able to view so many pieces of his artwork at one time, in one location, is a privilege. I felt truly blessed as I slowly walked through the museum. Photographs and prints don`t do his work justice. When you are close to a Van Gogh painting, you can actually see each of the individual brush strokes. It is magnificent.Other highlights in Amsterdam included a visit to the Anne Frank House (which was very moving, despite being packed in like a sardine with about 100 other people), a canal cruise, a stop at the I amsterdam sign, and various random wanderings (which took us to a flower market, a coffee shop, and the Red Light District). I can`t really comment further about my random wanderings, but I will say the Red Light District is everything it is rumoured to be and more. There really are girls in the windows, as well as shops that sell everything imaginable. Taking pictures is forbidden, and even pulling out your camera could result in it being thrown into a canal.
An experience that I will share occurred our last night in Amsterdam. Our group was hopping from one disco to the next in the Red Light District, and ended up in
a small bar. The bar started filling up quickly, and before I knew it, the whole place was completely packed with people. What made this so fascinating was that EVERYONE started dancing. Back home, a lot of guys stand at the side and watch the ladies dance. Not in Europe. Everyone, and I mean everyone, participates. The part that really got me, however, was the realization that everyone was also singing the words to the songs being played by the DJ. The music was North American, and the lyrics were in English, yet the entire bar was singing along. I had an opportunity to meet some people later that evening. In that single bar, I spoke to individuals from Brazil, Ireland, Australia, Japan, Jamaica, South Africa, and Sweden. Many of them could only speak basic English, and one guy admitted he had no idea what the words to the songs actually meant. That didn`t stop him from singing along. In that bar, in Amsterdam, I felt the greatest feeling of community I have ever felt in my life. We were all from different places, different background, yet we came together, partied together, and sang and danced together. It was something I will never forget.I probably slept for about 4 hours the entire time I was in the Netherlands, but I don’t regret the lack of sleep for a second. After 2 days, however, I was excited to move on. The next stop on the agenda was Berlin, and the history girl in me was already starting to hyperventilate.
November 6, 2009
My Travels: London
London was incredible, and was the perfect beginning to a 6 week, ten country vacation with my brother (Chris) and my mother. Anticipating we would need lots of time to explore, I booked flights for Chris and myself 3 days before we were scheduled to begin a Contiki tour. This was a very smart idea, and is my first recommendation to those planning on doing Europe guided-tour style.
Chris and I arrived at Heathrow Airport in London at 7:30 a.m., which was just after midnight in Winnipeg. With all of our flight connections and stopovers, we had been travelling for 24 hours. And, to top it off, we could not check into our hotel until 3 p.m. later that day. Therefore, we had to fight fatigue, and spend the day sightseeing. I wont go through absolutely everything Chris and I did in London, but I'll mention the highlights.
St. Paul's Cathedral is absolutely breathtaking. You can't take pictures inside, which is the only downside. Of all the churches and cathedrals Chris and I saw in Europe, his favourite is still St. Paul's. We climbed 3 levels of stairs to the dome on top, and were rewarded with the most amazing view of the city!
Westminster Abbey was old and impressive. As I walked through the passageways, and through the different rooms, I tried to picture all of the people who had walked inside. The Abbey was especially important to me because of Poet's Corner, a large section where many famous writers are buried. I stood there for a good half hour, writing down names of the deceased writers in the little notebook I carried with me all throughout Europe. Charles Dickens and Geoffrey Chaucer are buried there, to name a few. Other authors have memorials there, such as Jane Austen, 3 Bronte sisters, and my favourite author of all time, George Eliot (a.k.a Mary Ann Evans).
The Tower of London was nothing like I expected. First of all, it is not simply a tower, but a large fortress. There are many different buildings, including where the Crown Jewels are kept. My favourite building was the Beauchamp Tower, where prisoners were kept before their executions. Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard, 2 of Henry VIII's 6
wives, were kept there before being beheaded. So was Jane Grey, the 9 Days Queen. Tower Green, where the scaffolding was erected, has been turned into a memorial to honour those who were killed there.
Tower Bridge was also very interesting, but there were lots of stairs to get to the top! Chris and I then crossed the bridge to the Southwark area, where both William Shakespeare and Jack the Ripper roamed during their days. We visited the Globe and Rose Theater's, walked in Jack the Ripper's footsteps, and spent a few hours in an underground bomb shelter that was converted into the Britain At War Museum.
Chris and I went on the British Airways "Eye in the Sky," and the thirty minute ride was worth the twenty euros! We also wandered around Parliament at dusk,which felt slightly magical, and slightly creepy.
Another highlight was visiting the Abbey Road crosswalk and th
e recording studio. Being a huge Beatles fan, I have wanted to visit there since I was a kid. We walked for about an hour to get there, and spent another hour attempting to snap the "right" photo. We also met a couple from Winnipeg at the crosswalk, which shows how small a world we really live in!
After our 3 days in London, we met up with our tour, and took a ferry from Dover to Calais. The White Cliffs of Dover are quite impressive! We drove through Belgium, and the next stop was Amsterdam.
Chris and I arrived at Heathrow Airport in London at 7:30 a.m., which was just after midnight in Winnipeg. With all of our flight connections and stopovers, we had been travelling for 24 hours. And, to top it off, we could not check into our hotel until 3 p.m. later that day. Therefore, we had to fight fatigue, and spend the day sightseeing. I wont go through absolutely everything Chris and I did in London, but I'll mention the highlights.
St. Paul's Cathedral is absolutely breathtaking. You can't take pictures inside, which is the only downside. Of all the churches and cathedrals Chris and I saw in Europe, his favourite is still St. Paul's. We climbed 3 levels of stairs to the dome on top, and were rewarded with the most amazing view of the city!
Westminster Abbey was old and impressive. As I walked through the passageways, and through the different rooms, I tried to picture all of the people who had walked inside. The Abbey was especially important to me because of Poet's Corner, a large section where many famous writers are buried. I stood there for a good half hour, writing down names of the deceased writers in the little notebook I carried with me all throughout Europe. Charles Dickens and Geoffrey Chaucer are buried there, to name a few. Other authors have memorials there, such as Jane Austen, 3 Bronte sisters, and my favourite author of all time, George Eliot (a.k.a Mary Ann Evans).
The Tower of London was nothing like I expected. First of all, it is not simply a tower, but a large fortress. There are many different buildings, including where the Crown Jewels are kept. My favourite building was the Beauchamp Tower, where prisoners were kept before their executions. Anne Boleyn and Katherine Howard, 2 of Henry VIII's 6
wives, were kept there before being beheaded. So was Jane Grey, the 9 Days Queen. Tower Green, where the scaffolding was erected, has been turned into a memorial to honour those who were killed there.Tower Bridge was also very interesting, but there were lots of stairs to get to the top! Chris and I then crossed the bridge to the Southwark area, where both William Shakespeare and Jack the Ripper roamed during their days. We visited the Globe and Rose Theater's, walked in Jack the Ripper's footsteps, and spent a few hours in an underground bomb shelter that was converted into the Britain At War Museum.
Chris and I went on the British Airways "Eye in the Sky," and the thirty minute ride was worth the twenty euros! We also wandered around Parliament at dusk,which felt slightly magical, and slightly creepy.
Another highlight was visiting the Abbey Road crosswalk and th
e recording studio. Being a huge Beatles fan, I have wanted to visit there since I was a kid. We walked for about an hour to get there, and spent another hour attempting to snap the "right" photo. We also met a couple from Winnipeg at the crosswalk, which shows how small a world we really live in!After our 3 days in London, we met up with our tour, and took a ferry from Dover to Calais. The White Cliffs of Dover are quite impressive! We drove through Belgium, and the next stop was Amsterdam.
November 5, 2009
The Classic Novel Files: Anything by Chuck Klosterman
Chuck Klosterman does not really fit into this category, as he is still quite young, yet I have no doubt in my mind that Klosterman will be a Hunter S. Thompson type when he is older. I first experienced Klosterman's writing when I read an interview he did with Britney Spears a number of years ago. His articles are not so much about the individuals he is interviewing, but what he is thinking, feeling, and doing WHILE he is interviewing them. What caught my attention about the Spears article was that the first paragragh contained numerous comments about the fact that she was not wearing any pants while the interview was being conducted. She was not wearing any pants. She was pantle
ss. Yes, pantless.
Klosterman has published a number of books, and they range from an almost diary-like account of his travels, to a collection of articles he has published in various magazines. My personal favourite of all of his published works is the book "Killing Yourself to Live." In this book, Klosterman travels around the USA, to sites where rock stars or rock star related deaths have occurred. He visited the field where Buddy Holly's plane crashed; he visited the intersection where Duane Allman, from the Allman Brothers Band, died on his motorcycle.
But what I love the most about the book is that he also writes about what is happening to him in his life as he is on this trip. A few women are mentioned (and in a similar fashion to the way Anthony Kiedis talks about his various muses in "Scar Tissue") and i'm sure these women are less than thrilled that they are mentioned by first name. He also talks about what he DOES while at each of these locations, and how he feels. I know that I would not talk about personal drug use in a piece of writing I would later submit to an editor, but hey, that's why he's currently published, and i'm not. "Killing Yourself to Live" is really a must-read for everyone, and you will not be dissapointed!
ss. Yes, pantless.Klosterman has published a number of books, and they range from an almost diary-like account of his travels, to a collection of articles he has published in various magazines. My personal favourite of all of his published works is the book "Killing Yourself to Live." In this book, Klosterman travels around the USA, to sites where rock stars or rock star related deaths have occurred. He visited the field where Buddy Holly's plane crashed; he visited the intersection where Duane Allman, from the Allman Brothers Band, died on his motorcycle.
But what I love the most about the book is that he also writes about what is happening to him in his life as he is on this trip. A few women are mentioned (and in a similar fashion to the way Anthony Kiedis talks about his various muses in "Scar Tissue") and i'm sure these women are less than thrilled that they are mentioned by first name. He also talks about what he DOES while at each of these locations, and how he feels. I know that I would not talk about personal drug use in a piece of writing I would later submit to an editor, but hey, that's why he's currently published, and i'm not. "Killing Yourself to Live" is really a must-read for everyone, and you will not be dissapointed!
November 2, 2009
Makes Me Happy...
At some point, I had to post this video. It is not so much the video, but the song. I first heard "Such Great Heights" by The Postal Service while watching the movie "Garden State." It was playing in the background during a scene with Zack Braff and Natalie Portman. I fell in love. There is something about this song that makes me smile each and every time I hear it.
It's funny how some songs can invoke such strong emotions. It's also funny how a person can remember lyrics to a song years after hearing it. I truly believe that music is the universal language, and that everyone can benefit from welcoming it into their lives.
Have a listen...
I also am including another Postal Service video, in case you really liked the last one. I could listen to this band all day, every day!
I hope you liked it!
It's funny how some songs can invoke such strong emotions. It's also funny how a person can remember lyrics to a song years after hearing it. I truly believe that music is the universal language, and that everyone can benefit from welcoming it into their lives.
Have a listen...
I also am including another Postal Service video, in case you really liked the last one. I could listen to this band all day, every day!
I hope you liked it!
October 31, 2009
The Classic Novel Files: Outlander
For the second entry of my novel segment, I wanted to include an experience I had a few weeks ago, and promote my favourite author. At the beginning of October, I discovered that Diana Gabaldon would be at McNally Robinson Bookstore on the 16th for a book signing. I eagerly went to school the following day, convinced that some of my classmates would want to come with me. The response to my excited inquiry was actually quite surprising, and NO ONE had ever heard of her! Considering that she has now written SEVEN books in the Outlander series, I felt this was a complete injustice to a talented writer! Therefore, I will try to make this post as interesting as possible, so everyone who reads it will want to run out and purchase one of her novels.
The main reason why I love Gabaldon's books is because they are
a mixture of historically accurate information, fictional characters, and cool science fiction twists. The first book, "Outlander," is set in the Scottish Highlands. Claire Randall, a woman in her mid twenties, has just reunited with her husband, Frank, at the conclusion of World War II. The year is 1945, and the couple are spending time together in Scotland before they re-enter the civilized post-war world. Claire is English, a nurse, and also has a love for botany and plants. It is precisely this love that takes her to a stone circle, in search of specimens. She does not realize, however, that this stone circle is magical. Claire touches one of the stones, and is transported back to 1743.
I know, you must be sceptical, but trust me. The books are incredible. The facts are historically accurate, the writing is entertaining, and the characters come to life through Gabaldon's descriptions. Oh yes, and the man that Claire meets - redhead Scottish warrior Jamie Fraser - is the single most incredible man you will ever read and fantasize about. It is worth reading the books just to read a bit about Jamie, and you will NOT be dissapointed. If the Outlander books were ever to be made into a movie, NO ONE could play the role of Jamie Fraser. He is too damn sexy. Really.
There are currently seven books in the series, as the last one has just been released. At her reading, Gabaldon stated that she is working on another, so you better get reading! The novels are as follows:
The main reason why I love Gabaldon's books is because they are
a mixture of historically accurate information, fictional characters, and cool science fiction twists. The first book, "Outlander," is set in the Scottish Highlands. Claire Randall, a woman in her mid twenties, has just reunited with her husband, Frank, at the conclusion of World War II. The year is 1945, and the couple are spending time together in Scotland before they re-enter the civilized post-war world. Claire is English, a nurse, and also has a love for botany and plants. It is precisely this love that takes her to a stone circle, in search of specimens. She does not realize, however, that this stone circle is magical. Claire touches one of the stones, and is transported back to 1743.I know, you must be sceptical, but trust me. The books are incredible. The facts are historically accurate, the writing is entertaining, and the characters come to life through Gabaldon's descriptions. Oh yes, and the man that Claire meets - redhead Scottish warrior Jamie Fraser - is the single most incredible man you will ever read and fantasize about. It is worth reading the books just to read a bit about Jamie, and you will NOT be dissapointed. If the Outlander books were ever to be made into a movie, NO ONE could play the role of Jamie Fraser. He is too damn sexy. Really.
There are currently seven books in the series, as the last one has just been released. At her reading, Gabaldon stated that she is working on another, so you better get reading! The novels are as follows:
- Outlander
- Dragonfly in Amber
- Voyager
- Drums of Autums
- The Fiery Cross
- A Breath of Snow and Ashes
- An Echo in the Bone
I could provide a synopsis of every single book, but that would take awhile, and most people would stop reading this blog entry.
For me, the highight of the book signing was being able to actually meet Diana Gabaldon. It was after reading her first book, when I was about 10 or 11 years old, that I realized people actually COULD write books about history. From that moment on, I truly wanted to be an author. I still do.
Gabaldon was a lovely woman. She was gracious, kind, and took a moment to acknowledge every fan. I was fortunate to be at the front of the line, and both my mom and I took a quick picture with her. I also was able to chat with her for a moment.
One day, Gabaldon will come to one of MY book readings, and hopefully say something along the lines of: "Oh yes, I remember. You were that girl who asked if my face hurts from smiling so much. You also said history rules. Gone and become an author, have you? You did say you were going to do something like that. Did you create a character like Jamie Fraser?"
October 29, 2009
Hatred Squared
Supremely satisfying,
our senses mingled,
suspending time
and life.
The musical melodies
of our uncontrollable urges,
shatter the illusion,
ending the night.
A drastic decision,
a calculated choice,
disappearing decidedly
and taking flight.
Leaving you stranded with
heart-pounding rage,
my bitter betrayal has
set the stage, for
the creation of a cold,
calculated exterior
necessary to bury a
softened interior.
Love is wrong and restricting
and wasteful and revolting,
It engulfs like a flame,
always hazy,
always choking.
Hypnotizing, bastardizing,
it bends, it breaks
the will of the weak,
by plunging one deep
and mesmerizing
and hypnotizing,
suffocating with lust,
a loss of ones self, by
breaking the trust.
Maddening motivations
numb your mind,
as you realize
I left you behind.
Alone, forgotten,
always and forever, lost
to a foreboding shift
in fate.
our senses mingled,
suspending time
and life.
The musical melodies
of our uncontrollable urges,
shatter the illusion,
ending the night.
A drastic decision,
a calculated choice,
disappearing decidedly
and taking flight.
Leaving you stranded with
heart-pounding rage,
my bitter betrayal has
set the stage, for
the creation of a cold,
calculated exterior
necessary to bury a
softened interior.
Love is wrong and restricting
and wasteful and revolting,
It engulfs like a flame,
always hazy,
always choking.
Hypnotizing, bastardizing,
it bends, it breaks
the will of the weak,
by plunging one deep
and mesmerizing
and hypnotizing,
suffocating with lust,
a loss of ones self, by
breaking the trust.
Maddening motivations
numb your mind,
as you realize
I left you behind.
Alone, forgotten,
always and forever, lost
to a foreboding shift
in fate.
October 28, 2009
Just Plain WOW!
This video made me smile more than I have smiled all week. I'm not even going to write about it, because when I stumbled upon it, I had no idea what the video was. Which made it even more impressive...
I love the jock in the audience who is totally interested and involved... Don't you wish jumping rope had been as much fun when we were kids?
I love the jock in the audience who is totally interested and involved... Don't you wish jumping rope had been as much fun when we were kids?
October 26, 2009
My Quest for the Perfect Greek Salad
Last week, Jeff and I were making tacos, and I was explaining to him the details of my love affair with tomatoes. It began as a mild flirtation this summer while I was in Europe, and evolved into a complete, passionate, all encompassing infatuation. I could probably eat tomatoes every single day for the rest of my life, and be completely content. That being said, I also have a great love for Greek salads.
My love of tomatoes is the reason why I started eating Greek salads in the first place. I was in Greece, and "salad" was the only thing I could somewhat recognize on the menu. I had heard about Greek salads before, but never actually tried one.
A REAL GREEK SALAD is nothing like what the majority of restaurants serve here in Canada. There are THREE main differences, which are as follows:
My love of tomatoes is the reason why I started eating Greek salads in the first place. I was in Greece, and "salad" was the only thing I could somewhat recognize on the menu. I had heard about Greek salads before, but never actually tried one.
A REAL GREEK SALAD is nothing like what the majority of restaurants serve here in Canada. There are THREE main differences, which are as follows:
- The salads consist of tomatoes, cucumbers, peppers, red onion, and NO lettuce! (If they are putting lettuce in there, it's a filler because they are too cheap to buy enough fresh vegetables, and it is NOT a "Greek" salad!)
- Oil, vinegar, and oregano are the only acceptable dressings (except maybe another type of seasoning.)
- Feta cheese MUST be present in some way, shape or form. I mostly saw a large block of feta placed on top of the salad, but already crumbled and mixed in is also acceptable, yet not recommended.
If a salad does not follow all three of the above criteria, it is not a traditional Greek salad.
MY QUEST: Over the next two years, as I plow my way through CreComm, I will rate every Greek salad that I eat. I will try as many restaurants as possible, and I will report my findings, both positive and negative. I will provide a "quality analysis" of each salad, and will then provide an overall score out of 5. My quality analysis will take into consideration the following aspects:
- Vegetable usage (variety of different kinds)
- Oil and vinegar presentation (is it already put on the salad, or do I have the opportunity to do so myself)
- Feta organization (large cube or small pieces)
- Freshness (are all of the ingredients fresh, or do they look like leftovers from other dishes or other days)
- Presentation (does this look like a salad I want to marry)
After going through the above checklist, I will give a final rating out of five:
- 5 - the salad is absolutely fabulous, and I forgot that I was back in Canada while eating it
- 4 - above average, no complaints
- 3 - fine, it's a salad
- 2 - could use some work
- 1 - i'm slightly depressed about my salad experience
- 0 - i'm going to slap the chef and cry in a corner
If you know of a Greek salad I should look into, please send me a comment and let me know. I visited the Princess Street Breakfast & Lunch place a few weeks ago, and tried their Greek salad. Unfortunately, I would only give it a 2 out of 5. Not a great start...
October 25, 2009
The Monster Mash
I don't CARE what anyone else says, but Halloween isn't Halloween without the Monster Mash. This song has been around forever, and everytime I hear it, I smile. Memories of swing dancing at junior high dances with my girlfriends come to mind, as well as listening to the radio as my mom drove me to school. I figured I might as well include the video, so everyone out there can enjoy it too!
I think the Monster Mash is to Halloween like A Christmas Story is to Christmas...
I think the Monster Mash is to Halloween like A Christmas Story is to Christmas...
October 24, 2009
Mr. Woodnote ft. Dub Fx
Here is another awesome video I saw last week. He is a loop artist, and in this clip, they were performing in the street. The clip is long, about 9 minutes, but keep watching, it's worth it!
October 20, 2009
Trash the Dress!
I was looking at random pictures the other day, and I came across a page with the most interesting wedding photos I have ever seen. Instead of your customary bride looking at groom, groom looking at bride, or wedding party looking at bride and groom photos, these shots focused mainly on the bride alone. And the kicker was that in each picture, the wedding dress was being destroyed. There were a number of water shots, some with the groom and some without. There were others with paint or dirt splattered all over the dress. My personal favourite was the shot of a bride lying in the middle of a train track.
Maybe I am morbid, or maybe I am artsy, but I firmly believe this is a perfect end to a wedding dress. Women who say they will wear their dress again are nuts, unless you are planning some really cool Bride of Chucky Halloween costume. I have never been sentimental about clothing, and I don’t think it is necessary to spend thousands of dollars on a gown. I would rather take that money and put it towards a meaningful honeymoon. In my opinion, doing something creative with ones dress after its purpose has been fulfilled is a really fun, interesting, and original way to say goodbye to the garment a woman wore on the most important day of her life.
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