Firenze

I’m surrounded by garbage.
I didn’t discover there was a sanitation strike until after my opinion of the city had been soiled.

It’s hot and muggy.
The man standing in front of me obviously hasn’t showered in a very long time.

But then again, that could be me who smells.

This is Europe, and personal hygiene goes out the window after about three days of travel.
A standard European bathroom leaves much to desired, and absolutely everything in the room is soaking wet after each attempt with the handheld shower wand.

Take a swim in a river. Or wait for rain. Trust me, it’s easier.

The man I’m standing behind is enjoying the fact that he isn’t bothered by the heat while I am.
I’ve been in Italy for five days, yet I still feel like my body will liquefy at any moment.

The line begins to move, and for the first time I allow myself to think about air conditioning.

Silly thoughts, really, because it’s very rare that a museum in Europe is actually air conditioned.
The buildings are hundreds of years old, and I doubt that Bernini and Michelangelo were thinking about future cooling systems when they designed things.

As I stop just outside the main entrance, I grab a pen and vandalize the graffiti-covered wall.

Every hour, my brother and I made a note of how long we had been standing in line.
We got the idea from the hundreds of people who had marked the wall before us.

I felt especially bad for Cindy from Newfoundland, who stood outside for seven hours with a screaming baby and a three-year-old.
But I will admit, reading the slow progress of others helped me survive the unbearable heat.

Yes, this is what we actually looked like. It was that hot. So very, very hot.

And then, it happened.

Just as I began to become overly cynical about Florence, the museum employee lowered the red rope, and we were ushered inside the building.
No air conditioning – just as I suspected – but that didn’t matter anymore.

I threaded my way through wide, marbled hallways, eyes searching fervently for one particular exhibit.

And then, I found him.

Standing tall, regal, and sexy at the end of the hallway, was Michelangelo’s David.
It took my breath away, and I managed to catch a tear running down my cheek before anyone noticed I was crying.

Honestly thought, I doubt anyone would really blame me for crying.
Gazing at David for the first time is enough to make a grown man weep like he had just been kicked in the balls by a woman wearing stilettos.

It’s a truly beautiful moment.

As I got closer, I realized that David wasn’t proportioned properly.
His hands and feet were too large, his head was gigantic, and his limbs seemed unnaturally small.

What was up with that?

I brought my confusion to an employee’s attention, and she kindly explained that Michelangelo engineered David to be disproportioned on purpose.
That way, he would look perfect from far away or from above.

Smart man, that Michelangelo. He did good work on the Sistine Chapel too.

I walked around the magnificent statue 10, maybe 15 times, and took in as many details as possible.
The veins running through his arms are realistic.
The muscles in his legs are toned.
His hair, his hands, and his lips all look like they belong to a real flesh-and-blood human being.

Seriously, everything looks real.

I walked out of the museum, back into the dry Florence heat, feeling completely fulfilled.
Some people live their entire lives without laying eyes on the real David, and I had just spent a fantastic, memorable hour with him.

Purchasing a bottle of water and dousing myself with it, I trudged away from the museum through the piles of garbage.
The smelly man from the line-up was sitting on a bench smoking, and he smiled at me as I walked past.
I was hot and uncomfortable again, eagerly anticipating returning to the hostel, but to my surprise, I smiled back.

I had just seen David, after all. What’s a little heat and garbage, really?

And this was me after spending time with the gorgeous David. It's funny how things like extreme heat and lack of air conditioning cease to matter during a truly beautiful moment.

Douglas Coupland's "Player One"

In Canadian Literature class, we were assigned the task of reading and reviewing a book by a Canadian author that has been published in the last year. This is what I came up with...

Honestly, I would love to sit down and have a beer with Coupland. I think we would have a lot to talk about.

Throughout the past 19 years, Canadian author Douglas Coupland has published over 20 works of fiction and non-fiction. He has also published numerous articles and stories for magazines and literary journals. Beginning with his first novel – Generation X: Tales for an Accelerated Culture, published in 1991 – and continuing to his most recent – Player One: What Is To Become Of Us, published in 2010 – Coupland has explored various modern human crises including society, religion, identity, and the afterlife. His work has been described as everything from modernist, to post-modernist, to a new, undiscovered genre that has moved beyond post-modernism and into a different realm altogether. Published in 36 languages in countries around the world, Coupland’s unique literary style is proof that even the most eccentric ideas can be accepted by readers.

Player One is set in a dingy Toronto airport cocktail lounge in August 2010. The story is broken into five hours, and during each hour the plot advances. The story revolves around five strangers who are forced to seek shelter in the cocktail lounge after the price of oil rises drastically and results in an apocalyptic end to the modern world. Player One is incredibly difficult to force into a specific genre, but the most obvious categorization would be a cross between science fiction and literary fiction. The aspects of the story that are science fiction include the oil-induced apocalypse and a chemical storm cloud that threatens to destroy everything in its path. The literary fiction aspects are introduced later, when the characters begin to have in-depth, philosophical debates about life. In addition, there are aspects of romance, mystery, and horror present in the later hours of the novel, which make the story even more difficult to categorize.

As events gradually unfold, we learn more about each of the main characters. Karen, the first to be introduced, is a fortyish divorced mother travelling from Winnipeg to Toronto to meet a man she connected with on the Internet. Rick, the lounge’s bartender, is trying to overcome a drinking problem and reinvent himself. Luke, a troubled pastor, is on the run after cleaning out his congregation’s renovation fund. Rachel is a young woman devoid of personality who has come to the bar to find a man to impregnate her so she can attempt to be more human. Finally, the mysterious fifth voice – “Player One” – provides the reader with an overview of what will take place in the future at the end of each hour.

The novel is written in a very unique style. Instead of parts or chapters, Player One is broken into both hours that denote the passage of time and sections dedicated to the thoughts of each of the five main characters. Each section is written to reflect what each of the characters is going through as he or she attempts to survive in the lounge. Unfortunately, overlap between the sections backtracks the story. Even though each character experiences different things and takes part in different activities, they are all trapped together in a fairly small space. It is obvious that the characters will interact with each other frequently. Instead of glossing over what we have already learned from a previous character, Coupland reiterates the same scene from many different perspectives. This style is creative and original, and in some sections it works, but towards the end of the novel it becomes a technique that makes it easy to skip through pages in order to reach the conclusion.

It is evident that Coupland conducted detailed research before he began writing Player One. His efforts are most obvious when reading about Rachel, the beautiful yet emotionless robot of a girl who suffers from a variety of brain defects that prevent her mind from functioning as it should. Instead of glossing over the details, and hoping the reader will simply accept her condition, Coupland provides a list of defects that supply an in-depth account of what exactly Rachel suffers from. Some of her ailments include autism-related facial recognition blindness syndrome (which makes it impossible for her to tell faces apart), right-hemisphere brain lesions (which hinders her ability to appreciate things such as passion and humour), and mild OCD (which allows her to remember pi over one thousand digits) (97). Coupland explains all of Rachel’s brain issues through her own voice, which would be impossible to do if he hadn’t done his homework ahead of time.

Player One had been written for readers that must possess two key attributes. First, readers must be educated adults. This is evident because Coupland writes about deep, philosophical subjects throughout the novel. He assumes the reader is intelligent enough to keep up with the intellectual plot line, and doesn’t make an attempt to tone down his writing style so more people can understand the story. For example, on page 157, Bertis, a sniper temporarily seeking shelter in the lounge, explains to Karen that she has been tricked into not questioning her soul. He says the following: “Karen, tell me, what is the you of you? Where do you begin and end? This you thing... Is it a spirit? Is it electric? What exactly is it?” Even though the language is fairly simple, and the sentences are short and easy to read, the message behind the text is thoroughly complex. It takes an educated individual with life experience to properly dissect it, and conversations similar to the example above are present all through the novel.

Second, Player One readers must either possess a sarcastic sense of humour or a general ability to understand when someone is trying to be funny or ironic. Throughout the novel, Coupland creates many of his own words. He infuses them into the story seamlessly, and doesn’t explain that he is using words that don’t really exist. The back of the novel contains a glossary with definitions to each of the made-up words, but it is up to the reader to connect the two components together. Two of his most interesting definitions include deselfing, which Coupland defines as “willingly diluting one’s sense of self and ego by plastering the Internet with as much information as possible,” and me goggles, which is “the inability to accurately perceive ourselves as others do.” While understanding the words isn’t necessary to understand the novel itself, the reader gets a lot more out of the story if he or she is able to laugh at Coupland’s creative vocabulary.

Overall, Player One is an interesting novel that forces the reader to envision a post-apocalyptic world in an uncommon way. Instead of reading an overview about the decline of life as we know it, the story is limited to the lounge and the areas directly surrounding it. It is a fairly easy read, and at just over 200 pages it can be consumed in one or two sittings. The only downside is that some of the conversations become so long-winded they border on raving tangents. Coupland is obviously opinionated when it comes to discussing life, death, and everything in between, and his opinions shine through clearly in Player One. Some sections could have been shortened, and some conversations could have been left out altogether. The novel is definitely meant for Coupland fans, as well as readers of non-mainstream literature. But despite its shortcomings, Player One is worth reading, and anyone who picks it up will find something worth remembering amongst its pages.

*All images taken from Google.All thoughts are my own, and to not represent the opinions of RRC in any way.

My chance encounter with Dawna Friesen

I have been trying to write this post for a few weeks, but life has a tendency of getting in the way. My backup file of blog posts has taken a beating, and I have no choice but to start writing again.

On Thursday, October 21, 2010, the new anchor of Global National – Dawna Friesen – visited Red River College’s Princess Street Campus. You might be wondering why she chose to visit RRC, but the answer is quite simple. Friesen – along with a laundry list of other successful individuals – is a CreComm grad.

Last year, when she was still working as a foreign correspondent for NBC News, Friesen came to school and spoke to the first-year CreComm class. I found her to be interesting and engaging, and wanted to ask her many questions about her job. I didn’t, however, because I was still a new student. I was afraid I would look young and inexperienced, so I refrained from raising my hand. I also didn't introduce myself after her speech (which I desperately wanted to do), and left the lecture theatre with regrets instead.

So when I saw Friesen walking toward me after speaking to the first year students this time, I decided I wasn't going to let the moment pass. Along with my classmate Jasmine, we stopped Friesen, introduced ourselves, asked a few questions, and posed for a few photographs.

I wish I had worn my lovely black blazer, but otherwise I think it's a great picture!

She was nice, she was gracious, and I am so happy that I had the chance to speak with her. It's always inspiring when I meet someone who used to be in my shoes, and it makes me feel as though I can do anything I set my mind to.

If you want to know more about Dawna Friesen, this is a very informative story.

Aloha from Hawaii: Part Two

The snow is flying outside, which makes it a perfect time to continue my Hawaii blog series. This is the second entry. If you missed the first one, click here.

Here are a few of my favourite activities on Maui:

Kayaking & snorkeling is an amazing experience, and my brother and I went on a lengthy excursion one morning. I’m not going to say any more about it here, because I plan to write an entire blog post about the event, but trust me, it’s worth it.

Haleakala National Park boasts a wealth of outdoor activities. It is the park surrounding Haleakala, Maui’s volcano. It’s possible to either drive up a sketchy road to the summit (10,000 feet above sea level), or hop into a helicopter and see it from the sky. We opted to drive, which I highly recommend. You can see the vegetation as it changes from palm trees, to forest, to sparse greenery, to colourful rock that greatly resembles the surface of the moon. Unfortunately, both my brother and I suffered altitude sickness, and we weren’t able to do much walking around at the top.

The summit of the volcano. I took this photo and couldn't believe how beautifully it turned out.

It’s possible to go hiking into the summit on a long, hot, gruelling nine hour trek where there are no refreshments stands, medical personnel, or buildings that offer shade and air-conditioning. The hike is apparently beautiful, and if you can do it, go for it. I wanted to, but I had already started to wilt.

Lower down the mountain – but still in the national park – is one of the coolest zip line courses I’ve ever encountered. There is a series of five lines, and each one is progressively longer than the first. Chris and I were immediately interested in the course, and, by some miraculous intervening power, we convinced my mother (who is afraid of heights) to go with us.

This was one of my favourite moments on the island. I hate to admit it, but I got a serious kick out of watching my mom scream bloody murder as she made her way across the first line. I felt bad when she started to cry afterwards, but I think they were tears of joy because she was still alive. All of the other people with us were supportive, and by the end there were ten chants of “Susan, Susan,” as she made her way across.

Mom, I’m still proud that you actually did that. I thought we were going to have to call a helicopter and air-lift you out of there.

You must, must, must go to a luau, but I’ll admit that I didn’t find it the most enthralling experience. It might be the fact that I was forced to go on stage and learn the hula, coupled with the fact that I ate part of a pig out of a giant pit in the ground. (Ugh. I get grossed out just thinking about it) Either way, a luau is a Hawaiian tradition, and it must be experienced by anyone who visits the island.

The Road to Hana also must be done. At least once. It’s basically like the Cabot Trail in Canada on drugs, and is a seven hour drive along a terrifyingly winding road that follows the side of the mountain. If a vehicle were to fall off the side – a situation that does happen on occasion – they drop a long, long way. Sometimes, the fallen vehicle will eventually hit the ground, or some trees. Other times, it’s nothing but ocean baby.

Walk the beach at night. All around the coast of Maui is a network of connecting beaches. It’s actually possible to walk around the entire island without leaving the coastline. In addition to being blanketed with stars, many fishermen that work at local restaurants come out at night to catch what will be served the following day. They build up piles of sand to mount their fishing rods, attach bells on the ends to announce a bite, and sit back and spent the night drinking under the stars. Chris and I stumbled upon a group of men doing this one evening, and they invited us to sit, talk, and share a beer with them.

When it comes to shopping, my opinions are simple:

Visit Hilo Hattie and an ABC Store for tourist crap, buy Kona Coffee, and don’t buy anything on Main Street in Lahaina, the largest town on the island. They will purposely rip you off, so look around and compare prices before committing to anything.

(NOTE: Lahaina is home to the World’s Largest Banyan Tree, so be sure to check it out. It’s located at the end of Main Street. Find Bubba Gump’s Shrimp Factory, turn left, and keep walking till you see it. Trust me. Worth it. Occasionally, there are local craft fairs set up all around the tree, and this is where I did most of my souvenir shopping).

Overall impressions?

Hawaii is beautiful. Yes, it’s American, and yes, it’s touristy, but you’d be hard-pressed to find any major destination in this world that hasn’t been touched by advertising and commercialism. I’ve been to Maui twice, Honolulu once, and I would most definitely go back again. And again. Being in Hawaii made me feel like I was in my own personal paradise. It’s truly magical, and worth the time and money.

Aloha from Hawaii: Part One

The weather is quickly changing, so I've decided now would be a perfect time to begin posting my three-part series about my travels to Hawaii...

The first time I visited Hawaii, I was about 10 or 11 years old. I don’t remember many aspects of the visit, but if I close my eyes and focus my thoughts I can conjure images of rolling waves, palm trees, and sandy beaches.

The second time I visited Hawaii was in 2008. I was much older, and wanted to remember every detail, so I kept a diary of my daily thoughts and activities. I’m just writing about the experiences I had now, over two years later, so hopefully my mind won’t be too muddled.

Then again, some things are so beautiful that you never forget them...

During the first trip, my family and I stayed on two islands: Maui and Oahu. The second time, we spent all our time on Maui. There were a number of reasons why we decided not to go back to Honolulu, and here are the top three...

The same amount of money that landed us a large condo on the beach in Maui only provided two small hotel rooms in Honolulu, Oahu’s capital. That’s how expensive it is compared to Maui, which is known as one of the priciest tropical places to vacation in the world.

Honolulu was very crowded. It isn’t a small, quaint, beach side town. It’s a thriving metropolis with a resident population of 899,593 people as of 2004. That doesn’t include tourists, and in 2005, 4.5 million visited this city. There is also over 100,000 military personnel in Hawaii, most of which are also based in Honolulu.

The view from our lanai during the second trip to Maui in 2008.

We were located near the International Market and Waikiki Beach, but everything else that was of interest was a lengthy drive away. That didn’t really appeal to me.

But don’t get me wrong. I don’t regret visiting Honolulu. I won’t ever regret visiting anywhere. There were a few interesting places that we went, and my favourites were the Pearl Harbour Memorial and the Dole Plantation, also known as Hawaii’s “Pineapple Experience.”

So, Maui... where to start?

We stayed in a condo with a gorgeous view of the ocean between Kihei and Wailea, two trendy areas on the island. It was fully furnished, and came with a complete kitchen. This was a godsend, because food can get pricey. We actually discovered during our first shopping trip that it’s cheaper to purchase alcohol than milk. So... we drank. Also, who wants to eat in a restaurant for three meals every day? We were there for ten days, and wanted the opportunity to cook for ourselves.

My first recommendation if you’re going to Maui is this: shell out the extra cash to get a balcony (known as a “lanai” in Hawaiian) that is on the ocean with an ocean front view. Besides being able to watch the waves every single day, the Kihei side of the island is also where mother humpback whales teach their young to learn to swim. I swear that not a day went by when we didn’t see a pod of whales travel past our beach. We went on a whale watching tour the first time we visited Maui, but this was something different and far superior.

That's me, playing in the waves. My brother and I walked along the beach for hours every day.

My second recommendation is this: do things. I watched many families spend their entire trip lounging on the beach. Fine for them, but there are so many interesting things to do on the island. My family adopted a policy where we would relax one day and do something the next, and this worked well for everyone.

That's it for now. Stay tuned for part two!

85 and still rockin' out

On Thursday night, I watched a musician perform at Winnipeg's Centennial Concert Hall. It was absolutely fantastic, and I can't believe I saw a performer who has been on the stage for seventy years.

The performer was B.B.King. The man is 85 years old, and he first entered the music scene performing on a radio station in 1946. King has been going ever since.

He's #3 on Rolling Stone magazine's "100 greatest guitarists on all time" list, and has also been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. He has performed in over 90 countries, and has witnessed more famous world events than I care to name.

Simply put, B.B.King is epic.

He looked that happy at when I saw him too. It's inspirational.*

At the concert, he sang, talked, played, and grooved from a chair set at centre stage. He talked about a variety of topics, including life, music, touring, and Viagra.

He was ecstatic to see a young boy sitting front row centre, and praised the boy's father and "young people" in general for keeping the music industry alive.

After the concert ended, King started signing autographs from the stage while the band continued to play softly in the background. He truly wanted to meet his fans, which I thought was very classy.

I hope I will have an opportunity to see this gentleman play again. I also hope that I will still be able to play the piano at 85. My life will be so much better if I can, and King looks like he's loving his life every single day.

*Image taken from the B.B. King website.

Two Face?

On October 29, 2010, a Chinese man boarded an Air Canada flight in Hong Kong bound for Vancouver.

Nothing out of the ordinary there.

The man was wearing a detailed silicone mask disguising him as an elderly white man. Mid-flight, the man went to the bathroom. When he returned to his seat, he had removed the disguise.

Alright, that's strange.

Before and after photos of the man. Image taken from an article published by CBCNews.com.

Now, the man is seeking asylum in Canada. His lawyer is also asking for the media to be banned from his client's immigration hearing to protect his identity. Apparently, information disclosed at the hearing might result in persecution or retribution from China.

The man used a brown cap, a cardigan, and the boarding pass of a U.S. citizen born in 1955 to board the plane. He was taken into custody by Canada Border Services Agency when the plane landed in Vancouver.

A few passengers on the plane apparently alerted the flight attendants to the man due to the fact that he had very "young looking hands." According to these passengers, the flight attendants did nothing. I don't put a lot of stock in what people say they did after an incident, but it will be interesting to see what happens as the event is investigated further.

If you want to read a great article about the issue, check out one from The Globe and Mail here.

I don't know how I feel about this issue. It seems very, very strange, and I can't wait until more information is available.

A Guide to European Bathrooms

It might seem like a personal thing to blog about, but trust me, bathrooms are important. They are especially important when one realizes that most public bathrooms in Europe require you to pay money to use them.

I travelled to 11 countries last summer, and encountered pretty much every type of bathroom imaginable. Here are some of the highlights:

The Pull Chain: This type of bathroom was the most common in England. It was basically what it sounds like... a regular toilet with a pull chain to flush. Not very scary, but weird the first time.

The Pod: These you will find in most countries. Some are much cleaner than others, but I would recommend this only as a last resort. Some pods are located on the street, usually outside of a public park or square. Others – like the one I am still trying to forget in Rome – are located inside subway stations.

The interesting thing about a pod is that it cleans itself after a person exits. Water covers every single surface, sanitizing the entire interior for the next person. While this sounds good in theory, everything is usually left wet. The floor, the seat, and even the toilet paper... if there is any. If it’s a desperate situation, go ahead, but otherwise, I would hold it. Indefinitely, if necessary.

The pod bathroom. This one is in Paris, but they're found all over Europe.

The German Deathtrap: In Germany, I discovered the most high-tech bathrooms I have ever seen. You have to pay, like everywhere, and only a 50 Euro cent coin is accepted. There are two turnstiles, similar to the ones you would see at a subway station. You put the coin into a slot, and a ticket comes out. You then put the ticket into a second slot, and the turnstile is movable. On the way out, you put the same ticket into another slot, and the turnstile moves the other way. Simple, yes?

Unfortunately, I somehow managed to lose my ticket in the bathroom, and couldn’t get out. I ended up ducking under the turnstile, and the barrage of people yelling angrily in German taught me that people just don’t do that. If no one is around, by all means, duck under. We did this in Dresden. But, if other people are present, just pay the money. We want Europeans to like us.

The Squat Toilet: We encountered these mostly in France, believe it or not, but I hear they are all over Europe. There are two footprint markers, one on either side of the hole in the floor, that mark where you are supposed to put your feet. This type of bathroom is definitely not for the squeamish, but it’s not so bad... as long as you have good balance!

The Modified Squat Toilet: This is what they do in Italy. It is still a toilet, but the seat has been removed. What the hell is the point of that? It’s basically just a glorified hole in the floor.

It was also in Italy that I experienced my first co-ed bathroom. My friend Steve and I were both having a serious emergency in Venice – as a result of too much Pinot Grigio – and asked a waiter is we could please use the facilities in his restaurant. He said yes, which is very surprising, and we hauled ass to the back. Then, to our dismay, we discovered one stall and one urinal in the same room. Steve is married, and far too polite to share a bathroom with me, so I got to go first.

When I emerged from the stall, the waiter from the restaurant was waiting for me. In the bathroom. Needless to say, that was the last time I used co-ed facilities in Europe.

The Wall: My brother encountered this is Austria. He needed to find the bathroom, and a man directed him towards the “pissoire,” as it was so eloquently labelled in English. What my brother found was literally a wall behind the women’s bathroom.

There are a few other important things I must point out regarding bathrooms before I can completely end this blog entry. They are as follows:

Toilet paper: It will always be hit and miss. Some bathrooms will have it, and some won’t. To be safe, I carried around a portable pack of Kleenex wherever I went. This came in handy repeatedly, and you will forever be someone’s hero if you have bathroom tissue when they have none. Also, a bottle of hand sanitizer is a good idea, especially if you are dealing with a pod or hole in the floor.

Universal lingo: Don’t call it a “bathroom” or “washroom” like we do here in Canada. Some people might understand you, but the majority will not. WC, or water closet, is the most commonly used expression throughout Europe. You can try to learn how to say it in different languages, but almost everyone will understand the phrase WC.

The wonder that is a free bathroom: Hotel rooms, museums, and restaurants are your best opportunities to find decent bathroom facilities. You must pay to use these amenities, so you might as well get your money’s worth. If you are looking for a free bathroom on the streets - which is very rare, I assure you – try a North American chain. In Prague, Jeff and I found a free bathroom in Starbucks. In Berlin, we found one inside a Dunkin Donuts.

Find a North American chain. It will save you a bit of money!

Bathroom attendants: Sometimes there is a person (usually a woman), standing or sitting outside the bathroom door. Sometimes they are inside, handing out towels, and other times they are simply staring at you sourly. No matter what the case is, this person is the bathroom attendant. Whether you like it or not, you have to give this person a tip. It can be pennies, or it can be a Euro, but do it.

Always have a 50 Euro cent coin handy: This is currently the standard cost of bathrooms in Europe. Most will take a combination of coins, but for some – like the ones in Germany – you need exact change. Also, if you hand a bathroom attendant a 1 Euro coin, don’t expect change.

I hope that this information will be helpful to someone in the future. If not, I hope it was entertaining. Living in Canada, I took for granted things like free bathrooms. I never will again, and I think I might actually be a bit traumatized.

Images taken from Google.

The key to Comic Con

My Halloween weekend was packed full of interesting events that reminded me there is in fact a world beyond CreComm and homework.

It began with A Taste of Italy, a wine tasting event at the Fairmont Hotel. My co-conspirator Ashton managed to score us both a job handing out 300 name tags to the upper echelons of Winnipeg society for four hours in the afternoon. It was an amazing networking experience, and hopefully I'll be remembered by at least one person I met when I apply for jobs after graduation.

After the event, Ashton, Tiffany (who we acquired in the hotel lobby), and I rushed back to my apartment. We quickly changed into our costumes for what would be the most epic wedding/Halloween social in the history of wedding/Halloween socials. My good friends Ty and Kristen are getting married, and they wisely decided to have a theme social. It was absolutely fantastic, and probably the best I've ever attended.

But, the part of the weekend that taught me the most about life was my Saturday excursion to Central Canada Comic Con. I promised Tiffany that I would go with her to promote her blog - The Spockette's Star Trek Review - which I was a guest star on last month. I even went as far as to dress up in a red Star Trek shirt, high-waisted black skirt and tights. It was important to look like a "Trekkie," otherwise no one would take me seriously.

And seriously, the outfit is everything.

Tiff dressed in a similar costume, and she added Vulcan ears for a more dramatic effect. Initially, we approached people to hand out the postcards and magnets Tiff had prepared. After a while - when people realized we hadn't left yet - we started to be approached by a wide range of people.

Everyone wanted to talk Star Trek, and we shot twenty minutes of video in under an hour. I got into a fight with one lovely gentleman about which Star Trek Captain is the superior Captain, which was a debate I never, ever thought I would have with a stranger.

It's Picard, by the way. Patrick Stewart can do anything.

I learned a lot this past weekend. First, there are a lot of things out there besides homework, homework, homework. I've barely been treading water the past few weeks, and it's nice to know that a life will be waiting for me when I finish CreComm.

Second, Comic Con is no small matter. People spent hours preparing their costumes for the event, and to arrive in improper attire is just not good enough. I don't think that I would have been able to talk as effectively to as many people if I was wearing normal street clothes, which taught me a valuable PR lesson. When promoting an event, a person, or a blog, the public relations professional must fully get behind whatever it is he or she is promoting. If you don't believe what you're "selling," no one else will.

Comic Con was an interesting experience. I will attend again next year, and I won't forget that the costume is the key to having a great time.

The big two-oh-oh

I’ve been so busy the last three weeks that I didn’t even notice I reached my 200th blog post until my good friend Ashton pointed it out in class this past Monday.

The Hope Files has been alive for about a year and two months, and I have to say that I am absolutely in love with this blog. It has surpassed every ambitious dream I had, and it is truly something that I am proud of. Of course, I wouldn’t have continued to post entries if I didn’t have followers, so thank you to everyone who has read what I have deemed important enough to share over the past year.

To celebrate the 200 mark, I decided to dig through my archives and relive some of my past posts. I sifted my favourite five from 2009 out of the collection, and would like to share them with you now. I want to remind my readers about some of the things I talked about in earlier posts, and I think these particular ones illustrate the range of topics I have covered the best.

FIVE: Trash the Dress!
ORIGINALLY POSTED: October 10, 2009
INFO: This post highlights a website that specializes in pictures of brides who have chosen to trash their wedding dresses in order to obtain cool photos. It only received five comments, but people were definitely talking about it. It also gave me a number of ideas for my own wedding photos, and was generally a short but fun read.

FOUR: Manitoba’s Hidden Gems: Marconi School
ORIGINALLY POSTED: September 11, 2009
INFO: This was my first official history post, and I had the greatest time writing it. I am a die-hard history-lover (like that isn’t obvious), and I was so excited when I realized that this blog can be a forum for me to discuss history unapologetically.

The interior of Marconi School. It's still in fantastic condition.

THREE: My Travels: London
ORIGINALLY POSTED: November 6, 2009

INFO: This was the first blog in my travel series. It introduced my trip to Europe – which I had just returned from two months previously – and provided pictures, details, and insight about the city. I have written 22 additional travel blogs since, and have 11 more waiting to be posted.

Me in front of Tower Bridge. No, this is not the London Bridge. That bridge is the next one.

TWO: Where Do All The Road Cones Go?
ORIGINALLY POSTED: November 20, 2009
INFO: This was a tongue-in-cheek musing about what happens to road cones after construction season is finished for the winter. The best part was that someone from the City of Winnipeg actually contacted me regarding the post, and wanted to discuss my query further. It was part of my General Interest section, where I talk about whatever is on my mind.

ONE: Must Creativity Equal Instability?
ORIGINALLY POSTED: September 14, 2009
INFO: This post discusses a number of creative individuals who died tragically as a result of drugs, suicide, mental illness, or a combination of the above. I talk about everyone from Heath Ledger, to Elliott Smith, to Vincent Van Gogh. It started quite the discussion, had 16 comments, and got people talking about important issues.

Also, I wrote an About Me blog this past summer. If you’re a new reader, and would like to know a little bit more about who I am, check it out!

P.S. I feel I should give a shout out to “Amanda’s Mom.” She comments on both my posts and my classmates posts, and she’s been a dedicated follower since the beginning. Thanks Amanda’s Mom, whoever you are. Your support is greatly appreciated.