The Worst Friend Ever

(C Day minus 1,3,4 edits, revisions and defence)I have a companion who only has bad things to say. I have so seldom heard anything good, that I am beginning to believe it not possible. This companion, mere intimate decimetres from my sleeping head (often full metres on a bad morning) is the alarm clock: the perpetual bearer of bad news.

Having moved from an East-facing bedroom into a North-facing bedroom I have lost the luxury of being woken up by the rising sun. It was a romantic lifestyle, using the curtain to estimate my morning rise, waking lazily and slowly into full awareness. Not that it didn't have it's problems; a summer morning wake up was also accompanied by the light's BFF, the heat. But for the most part, it was enjoyable and lovely. I have, since the move, had to rely on the obnoxious yelp of that square box of pain (Little House on the Pain-rie?). Every morning that I have to work, my morning starts with bad news: it's time to get up. If I had wanted to get up, if I felt I was ready to get up, I would have done so myself. I am instead jarred out of my slumber by the naive child that believes that the world should rise and fall with their schedule. This isn't even the only reason I dislike my little "friend."

Thesis writing has put me in an odd relationship with time. There is never a good time. I'll get home around 5, and by the time I have wound down and am ready to work, it is 7...already?! Open the documents, track down a citation and reword a sentence...9?!?! Couldn't be! Even if I am productive, time seems unwelcome. I could edit a whole chapter, rework the most troubling of passages, update my bibliography AND have come to a profound conclusion about my thesis or my life, but if only 10 minutes have passed (I said 'could' not 'did') I am still left with the "It's only been 10 minutes?! I should work for another 50 at the very least before I quit for the night!" Is there ever a time that is welcome? Well, maybe 7:30. Time for Jeopardy!

'This is a patent lie' song of the day: Time is On My Side - Rolling Stones

Though if you have seen the movie 'Fallen', it is the serial killer/spirit that sings the song, in that regard, it makes more sense. Just imagine my thesis singing this song. It'll wait me out if I don't beat it first.

Does Chicoutimi Know They are Luscious?

(Day 95) I know, I know, posts have been further and further apart. That must mean I am too busy working, right? Hahah. Almost. Errands. Things come up. In any event, I have been entertaining cousin M as a guest for the last little while, and sadly had to see him go today. I drove him to the ferry terminal up island so that he could enjoy some more of what this province has to offer. What it clearly does not have to offer is students hard at work.

The drive from Victoria to Nanaimo is full of many wonderful places that I would never like to visit (again). They are, however, in name, quite interesting. My sister-in-law S uses the concept luscious words in her English classes (these are words that are enjoyable to say, ones that rrrrrolll off your tongue). The drive up island has many of my favourite luscious words. There is Chemainus, Cowichan, Nanaimo, and even Qualicum is fun to say too. Although, I think Nanaimo's inclusion is more because I enjoy saying it incorrectly. Nanimoo. Nanaimu. Noonama. After having several encounters with Nanimooers, this practice will not change. That's what you get Nonamu.

What's perhaps odd is that most of my other favourite luscious words are also place names. I would love to live in a city that had a luscious name. Chicoutimi. Shawinigan. Coquitlam. Quilchena. Just kidding. I would never live in any of those places...well maybe Chicoutimi. Maybe Jean Chretien's poor speech pattern came from speaking his town name too many times. "The city I am from is Shawinigan. Shawinigan is da city I am from. I love ma' 'ometown a' Shawinigan. 'Et's a go da Shawinigan. Wa-wa-wa-wa...wa-wa Shawinigan." Hahah. That's the road I am heading down. Wa-wa-wa Chicoutimi. Wa-wa-wa, wa-wa this blog.

The 'wa-wa- song of the wa-wa- day': Voodoo Chile (Slight Return) Jimi Hendrix

That's Quite the Company You Keep

(Day 37) For many years, I have (for the most part) had long hair of great volume. Being a long haired fellow, one of my worries has been that I would start losing my hair. Not a terrible worry, as I am a former head shaver, so I know that I don't have an awkward shaped head. I think the clean cut look is 'in' anyways, it would be like Nature's way of telling me I need to be cooler.

One of the leading causes of balding (aside from genetics of course) is stress (there could be other 'leading causes' considering that I made up that 'fact'). Being a grad student, constantly under the gun of looming deadlines and sky high standards, I always assumed this was the road I was headed down. I was so expecting to start pulling out tufts of hair that I didn't see the greying coming. I got (read: noticed) a grey hair yesterday! Not just grey, but almost silver, like white-hot, see it from across the room white... in my beard.

Now this is something that I could embrace I think. A white beard?! Yes, please. Put me in the same category as Santa Claus, Gandalf the Wizard, Freud, the Ayatollah, Papa Smurf, even My Supervisor! You know what the common denominator is here? Wisdom and respect. Well maybe not the Ayatollah...and nobody ever said how smart Santa was... and Papa Smurf ain't never got no respect. Okay, correction: the common denominator is the cool beard, and that is enough for me. Maybe I should work even harder, get that stress going, and land myself a beard o' wisdom/respect. I'm taking it back.

Song 'to grow a beard to' of the day: Sharp Dressed Man - ZZ Top
(Fun fact: the last name of the drummer of ZZ Top, is Beard, and he was the only one in the band without one - only a mustache! Didn't I just blow your mind?)