I Was Born on a Tuesday

Today is yet another last day of work for she who would be called Sarah. There are a few important details that I fear have not been addressed in full, but I don't fear enough to really care. But this is not what we are here to discuss.

The September 12 project is progressing, if only in my mind. I have devised a number of strategies in the 11 days since I lanched the project. I have yet to receive any responses, but am quite confident that I shall. But this is not what we are here to discuss.

Today I am amused by simple, frivolous things. Things like bangles and toile, feathers and lemons. But this is not what we are here to discuss.

I was born on a Tuesday. Twenty years later a man named Karol died. But that is not what we are here to discuss.

The Kubler-Ross Model of the Death of Rock and Roll

Public places. You should always meet in public places. Furthermore, those public places should be populous, but not so populous as to be overcrowded. Do not meet at Dundas and Spadina. That is not the best option for you, as you find the sight of bodies in a window painful. Meet, instead, further South on Spadina or, far better, on Queen. There you will be carrying a book, wearing a necklace of blue and green glass, and pondering the purchase of a paper lantern. The Buddha on your wrist and the one in your purse wink at the Buddhas in the store windows, and you wonder how many Buddhas have been missed, lost, or forgotten. You don't know it, but your heart is about to break.

Random Good Sandwich, Hot Feet

• sliced smoked tofu roll (from Ying Ying Soy Food)
  
• peanut butter (would have been better with crunchy)
  
• mustard
  
• red pepper (sweet, not hot)
  
• cheddar cheese (old equals good)
  
• lettuce (with two t's, iceberg or leaf)
  

It wanted pickles (dill).


The out-of-doors temperature is currently 23 degrees centigrade. I have not visited the out-of-doors for roughly 7 hours and 17 minutes. I removed my shoes 13 minutes ago, and my feet are no longer hot. It strikes me as odd that we spend so much time inside, away from the earth and real things. My co-workers held a farewell gathering for me this morning, as I will be gone as of Friday. We expect lightning and thunder this evening. The banana chocolate chip muffins were excellent. The gathering reminds me a bit of a wake. I wonder how many times banana chocolate chip muffins have been served at wakes. I think this is a terrible post. I am excited.


I did not drink the coffee.

The First Intelligent Thought I've Had in Response to Morgan Spurlock's Super Size Me

It occurred to me today that in his documentary Super Size Me, Morgan Spurlock, perhaps inadvertently, reinforces antiquated gender norms. In the course of the film, Spurlock introduces the audience to two important members of his private life: his mother and his girlfriend. In some earlier scenes, he describes the way things used to be, when families cooked at home and ate in restaurants only on the rarest and most special occasions. Most of his own childhood memories of his mother, he says, are of his mother in the kitchen. Flash forward twenty-something years. Spurlock introduces us to Alexandra Jamieson, then girlfriend, now fiancée, long time vegan chef and holistic health counselor. So Spurlock swapped his healthy home cooking mom for a woman who cooks for a living. I am not trying to call into question Spurlock's motivations or to insinuate that he allows his personal life to influence his objectivity; I simply feel that beneath the obvious theme of his film, Spurlock has allowed old-fashioned gender roles to fester. In the film, Spurlock presents himself as a man who depends on the women in his life to keep him healthy. As women, over the past few decades, have made their exodus from the kitchen to the office, they have had less time and energy to focus on keeping themselves and their Morgan Spurlocks healthy. So I guess my question would have to be... of all the fast food tycoons in the world, how many go home to a wifey and a home-cooked meal? Discuss.

On September 12 2001, What Did You Want the World to be?

This idea occurred to me not more than an hour and a half ago. I was lying in bed, trying to decide whether or not to brush my teeth, when my eyes landed on the Bush-Martin '04: Wrong on Star Wars button on my bulletin board. This, of course, led me to think about the march against Bush in November, which inevitably led to thoughts of September 11 2001. I thought about tragedy, and how politicians often mar the memory of such events on major anniversaries by using the opportunity to trumpet their successes. I found myself wondering what the world has actually accomplished in the days since 9/11. And then it hit me.

What if someone were able to look at what the world was at 7 am on September 11 2001, and at everything that happened between then and September 11 2006, and challenge the trumpeting that inevitably will go on? What if someone took the time to reflect on what has happened and on what the world has or has not become since then? With this post, I announce the official launch of what I will pretentiously call The September 12 Project.

The September 12 Project is about hope. I want to find out what we've done, what kind of progress the world has made since 9/11. Essentially this is going to be one giant research project for Sarah. And Sarah needs your help.

I want to use a human perspective in my research, because I believe the human perspective is left out of most contemporary political and economic work on the subject. So I ask you, please, answer the question "On September 12 2001, what did you want the world to be?" If your answer is short, feel free to leave it in the comments section at the bottom of this post. If not, you can e-mail it to september12project@yahoo.ca. If you wish to remain anonymous, feel free to withhold your name, or to indicate to me in your comments that your name should be kept private.

I am committed, on the 5 year anniversary of 9/11, to releasing a report on your testimonials. In order for this project to be successful, however, I need as many participants and as much publicity as I can possibly get, so please, send this post, using the e-mail link below (the envelope icon) to forward on to anyone who might be interested.

5 years later, perhaps the world really will be a better place. At the very least, I'd like to inspire people to think about what they do want for the future, and what they can do to help. Thanks for taking the time to read this, and I hope to hear from you soon!

Addendum: While I make no secret of my own political leanings, I am absolutely open to those who would like to express opinions contrary to mine. In fact, I encourage it! My goal, as a political scientist, is to get as wide and varied an array of opinions as possible!

Wriggles and Snaps

I am excited. Very excited. And disappointed all the same. I do not know what to make of myself at present, and I spend far too much time trying to decide what to make of myself in the past and future. After a string of frustrating meetings and slow days, I found myself lapsing into the same stewing and muttering behaviours that I find so unhealthy in my mother. As per usual, I take for granted all the wonderful little things around me. Friends that care for me, and make it very clear. A future full of so much excitement and opportunity that I might collapse under the weight of it all, rolling with laughter as it topples over. Commitment to a cause that I know helps people in exactly the way I think I should help people. Direction, however broad and meandering, towards a goal that really does seem bright. So today, instead of complaining and going on, I'm going to do something that I do both rarely and not nearly often enough. Thank you. Thank you Chelsea. Thank you Kristin. Thank you Sofie. Thank you Andrea and Ciara. Thank you Raja and Jenn. Thank you Katherine. Thank you Ky and Kari. Thank you Jennifer. Thank you Asim. Thank you Emily. Thank you Jason. Thank you Andy. Thank you Aveleigh and Dmitry. Thank you Kate. Thank you Nicola and Deb. Thank you Tim. Thank you Tim. Thank you Aaron. Thank you Laura. Thank you Melissa. Thank you Penny. Thank you Leslie. Thank you Shirl. Thank you for all the happy moments you have given me, and for all the hope you give me for the future.

"But trust me... on the sunscreen." - Mary Schmich

The Randomly Hip, OR The Tragically Absurd

At frequent, random intervals throughout the day I've had a single line of The Hip's 'At the Hundredth Meridian' playing in my head. Now, normally, having any amount of almost any Hip song lodged inside my skull for any amount of time would leave me quite irate. Note: of course, as Hip songs tend, in this country, to receive what I feel is an exorbitant amount of play, they are more or less permanently lodged in my skull, which may explain my volatile potential for nastiness. However, this particular case of the Tragic Plague came with a rather amusing little antibody. I seemed to have replaced eulogy with the ever so much more amusing eugoogoly. So forget Jimmy Eat World. Get Ry Cooder to sing my eugoogoly!

Attaque à Main Armée de Café

Ah the wonders of web-based translation. I can mug a person in French. I can mug a person with coffee in french. But I certainly cannot say mug - or coffee mug, for that matter - in French. So please do not ask me to. I do find it ironic, though, that my weapon of choice also happens to be my kryptonite. Note to self: must write script for the movie Unbreakable 2: Attaque à Main Armée de Café, and send to M. Night Shyamalan. OR must write script for the movie Unbreakablesque, and send to the brothers Chaps.