Me, me, me

#&*% Brain!!

Heh-heh. My friend just told me on the phone that my last blog post was actually a repeat of something I wrote a few weeks ago.

Okay. From this day forward I will not post anything but actual semi-interesting content.

Deja-blah

Strangely enough, I think I've been writing this blog long enough now to wonder sometimes whether I am repeating entire posts. My life is somewhat repetitive, as lives tend to be, but I shudder to think that my blog is too.

The baby delighted the whole family last night at supper. She "crossed" her arms (Her arms are so short and her tummy so big that it's really just her hands joining across her front. Very cute) and said "Oh boy-o-boy-o-boy". She was imitating her father, who had just done/said the same thing. In her voice it was priceless. Good times.

It's warm(ish) and raining today, so I think I'll go to the library for a while and then try to get a little Christmas shopping done. I'm putting together a package to send to my sister in Germany, and I'd like to get it done by the weekend. It's a good life, this stay-at-home thing. I can decide what I want to do and adjust my activities to suit the weather. Some days that seems like the ultimate luxury. If I could just be paid for looking after my own kids, I'd be sittin' pretty.

More strike action

We're looking at 2 strike days this week alone. And, even worse, there will be no comments from the teachers on the kids' report cards next month. That's after no comments on their final reports last year.

I'm lucky that I'm at home, so it's easy for me to deal with the strike days. I've even volunteered to look after others' kids to make things easier for those who work outside their homes. The fact that the kids are missing school days is frustrating, though, when there are so many days off per year already. But the lack of comments on their reports really hurts, because the comments are where you see how they're really doing, how the teacher feels about their progress, etc. And it's a permanent record of that. The "marks", such as they are, are on a scale of 1 to 4, and can't really reflect any of the nuances of a child's learning experience. (My kids' marks are always very good, but still...)

This whole situation is totally unsatisfactory. Aren't we all paying for our educational system? I'd love to see an accounting of where the money goes, and why they can't give the teachers what they're asking for. Just telling us "There's no money!" doesn't cut it. Nobody believes that. If you can give millions to Ubisoft ( a co. that seems to be doing just fine) to train their programmers/engineers, why can't you put a little more into educating the future workers and thinkers who will drive our economy? Or maybe take some money out of the subsidies for private schools, money that's taken directly out of the public school system? If that isn't a clear sign of class bias, I don't know what is. And we're supposed to be the semi-socialist province. Bah, humbug.

Jeez, it sounds like I'm angry or depressed or something! I'm really not, you know. It's just sad to see the educational system so badly underfunded. It feels like nobody cares about our kids' generation.

Phooey

I failed my driving test. Not a terrible fail; the examiner said that I drive well, but she had to "intervene" (or slam on the brakes) when I got too close to the wall as I backed into a parking spot. That's a failure.

I'm pretty bummed, mostly because it's so complicated for me to do this. D. had to take the day off work to take me there and look after the baby while I did this.

But to be honest, I would have been more surprised if I'd passed than I am that I failed. That's not pessimism, I just know that lots of people don't pass the first time and that the test is not easy. I also don't think I'm a good driver yet.

I'll take it again in January. Sigh. My heart's not in it anymore though.

Baby post

An update on my big bundle of Joy:

She's so incredibly cute. This is not new, obviously, but now that she's 18 months I remember why I have always loved this age. She's always talking and doing funny things, like turning upside-down and looking through her legs, smiling and saying "Hi!" to strangers on the city bus, opening the little doors in her baby books and saying "H'lo!" in different little character voices, etc... It's too much cuteness for a mother to bear.

She's still shy and a real mommy's girl, which I would change if I could. I like my kids to be outgoing and friendly, even if they're shy by nature. I just think it's polite to engage with people when they talk to you. But she's still little, and she's learning to trust the world around her. I'm not pushing her.

She's learning new words at an impressive pace. Some of my favourites from among her new words:

Snow
Happy
Fifi (her nickname)
blankie (pron. binky)

A month to endure

November is the descent into the underworld... the strange dark place where life and light are gone and bright sunshine and growing green things seem like a ridiculously happy memory, never to be seen again. Even to see the stars at night is a rare and hopeful thing in November, a reminder that the iron roof of cold clouds does indeed lift, and change is not only possible but happening right now, while we wait under heavy weather.

Travel Dreams

God, I would love to go and see Arirang in North Korea. It seems to me that that would be the trip of a lifetime.

Speaking of trips, I went out the other night with a new friend, a very interesting and kind woman whom I really like. Well, we were talking about our respective travel experiences and she mentioned Prague. I've travelled in Europe but missed out on Prague, to my lasting regret. I told her that I dream of visiting Prague. You know what she said? She said, Why don't you go? I have an apartment where you could stay, right in the middle of the city. You wouldn't have to spend money on restaurants and you could do the whole trip very cheaply!

Well, she has planted a crazy idea in my head. I had been thinking that I would have to go and stay with my sister in Germany, even if it means getting further into debt to do it. Now I'm thinking Hmmm, Germany's not so far from the Czech Republic... maybe I could do both... It would take some miraculous arrangements, because I would want D. to come too, which would probably mean bringing the baby and having my older kids stay with my mom or one of my sisters (a lot to ask, even if they are good kids). But wouldn't that be a trip to remember?

Hmmm... A girl can dream.

This blog post: Nominated for 864 Gemini Awards

I'm starting to experience stress-insomnia about my road test, which is coming up this Friday. I've tried not to be nervous about any of this, and have succeeded, for the most part, in enjoying the lessons. I'd just better not screw up the test, because we are so low on money we can't afford to waste any, and the test costs plenty. Best not to think about it, right? Good thing I have my trusty blog to talk to, to get it out of my system.

I've been hustling a little bit to get some new freelance work, but no leads so far. My web site will be done soon, and it's pretty. Once it "goes live" (I love that expression!) I guess I'll start pushing for work. Apparently December is the best time of the year to look for a job. Did you know that? It's counter-intuitive (and possibly untrue), but supposedly it has to do with year-end budgets or some such blahdy-blah. We'll see, eh?

The kids are out bowling with D. and I'm enjoying a bit of time by myself. I probably should have gone to see a movie like I intended, but I'm too damn lazy. Unfortunately staying home means that I'll probably end up washing the floor instead of having some down-time. But really, how often do I get the opportunity for uninterrupted mopping? Carpe Diem! (That's Latin for "sieze the mop")

Bliss?

We are on Day 2 of a 5-day weekend for my two older kids, thanks to 2 "professional days" and a strike day scheduled for Monday. I could view this as precious time spent with my wonderful children-who-grow-up-too-fast, or I could see it as a character-building exercise, or as practice for their upcoming 25-day (!) Christmas holiday. But I view it as an occasion to let my housekeeping go and work on my primal-scream therapy. Well, maybe not primal-scream so much as just regular scream, and not so much therapy as its opposite, depression.

But seriously, I'm feeling very good at the moment because the 2 older kids are out at friends' for a couple of hours while the baby takes a long nap. I am relaxing and whistling to my birds. Life is good. But that doesn't mean that Jean Charest isn't getting a strongly-worded missive about my complete and utter fed-up-edness concerning his government's negotiations with teachers. To whit: Jean Charest, if you think that dragging this thing out is going to make this parent angry with the teachers and withdraw my support for their demands, I would like to invite you to have a look at the dartboard in my basement; it has your face on it -- and it is full of many many holes... kind of like your government's image these days. And yer head!

Dudes!

I need to get more work. I hope this isn't too tacky, but I just wanted to remind my readers ( all 3 of you), that if you hear of any writing, editing, research work to be done... Well, you know the rest. I will be eternally indebted to you, or indebted until I pay you back in some fabulously creative way.

dirty, dirty mind

Here's another line from one of the children's- show theme songs I hear every day (and have stuck in my head most days). This one makes me snigger like an old weirdo though:

There's one thing we know...
Love makes little things grow.

A desperate mind can find smut anywhere.

Empowering

And now, some words from this morning's lineup of children's television:

To help is beautiful.
Small is powerful.
Believe it!

A link for yuz

I do some freelance writing for a web project at the National Film Board. It's a great job, where I get to watch documentaries and write synopses of them. The challenge in it is the fact that I have to write short, medium and long descriptions of the film or clip, with very stringent length restrictions, ie., character counting rather than word counting.

All this to intro a link to the site, called CitizenShift, which I think is a very cool way to get social issues, and the documentaries that people are making about them, into the public arena. You can watch docs or follow the making of a doc by watching clips and reading materials from the directors and producers. If you bookmark the site and come back to it now and again, I guarantee you'll be a better-informed citizen as a result.

The latest one I wrote about is up now, and while it's still a work-in-progress, I think it will be a very good film, by 2 young Montreal directors. It's called Diversidad, and it's about food security and agriculture in a global economy.

I'm a Highway Star

Had my penultimate driving lesson today. Well, that may not be true; I might take an extra hour after my last scheduled lesson and before the big test on the 25th. But anyway, so this lesson included highway driving. I decided to take it in stride and not be nervous, and it went very well. My instructor was very excited and was blabbing away while I merged and so I didn't really have time or brain-space to be nervous as I was doing it. After that it was just keeping my lane, keeping my speed, occasionally changing lanes just for practice, and exiting the highway. Not so bad. So now I want to know: How come none of my sisters ever comes to my house? I always thought that it was because it involved highway driving! If highway driving is cake, I'm thinking maybe my sisters just don't like me so much. Or maybe my house smells funny.

Speaking of cake, part of my driving lesson today was stopping at a gorgeous bakery in Pointe Claire, where my instructor bought two carrot cakes, one for each of us. Incredible carrot cake. I like driving.

I fear plastic

Reading Steve's blog I am immediately plunged into the yearly internal debate over "to plastic or not to plastic?" I know that plastic sheets over drafty windows make things cozier and would save me heating money. I've done it in the past and reaped the benefits. But here's the thing: I am claustrophobic and have lived through a nighttime house fire, and when I have plastic sheets glued over the windows I lie awake at night figuring out escape routes for my children. It may be silly, and I know that it's mostly the claustrophobia talking, but in a fire every second counts, and if I couldn't get to my kids and they had to get out a window, I'm not sure that they would know how to pierce or claw through a tight plastic sheet before opening the window.

Normally I'm not the kind of person who lives in fear of "what if?" but as I said, having woken up in the middle of the night with smoke pouring through the door and the smoke detectors beeping their asses off, running down the stairs to see the ground floor in flames except for the front doorway, thank god, I don't think of fire as a "what if?" so much as a "remember when?".

Maybe we'll have a fire drill that includes hacking through a plastic covering and see how it goes. Or maybe I'll just do my best with caulking and we'll all wear sweaters indoors this winter.

Am I a loon? Please post your kind responses in the comments below.

Horrors

There was an amazing documentary on The American Experience on PBS last night. It was about the war in the Pacific theatre, and it was very disturbing. The profound disconnect between the American and Japanese cultures really seems to have contributed to the horrific bloodshed, where civilians were seen as fair game, not for the first time in warfare. What was so incredible about this film was the footage; some of the images were so intense I couldn't believe I was watching real footage of it. My mind wanted to think that those Japanese people committing suicide by jumping off a cliff, or those kamikaze planes smashing into warships, or the soldiers using flamethrowers in caves where Japanese refused to come out, were re-enactments or recreations of some sort. It's unreal to see something so intensely real.

I spoke to a veteran today at the mall. He has a chest full of medals. He volunteered when he was 19 and served for 6 years, and landed on Normandy on D-day. Another veteran went to my daughter's class today. She said that he told them that he was at Nagasaki, or 120 feet under Nagasaki, when the atomic bomb was dropped. He said that when they came up from underground there was nothing but smoke everywhere.

You pass people every day who have seen unimaginable horrors. They are survivors of more than events in history. They are survivors of the sight of the gaping hole at the center of human morality.

oh. my. g-aahhmmmm...

Bought two beautiful-looking slabs of fudge at our church's bazaar on Saturday, praline-white chocolate and chocolate-mint. Holy, what an incredible experience eating can be sometimes. Give me that praline fudge, a bottle of husky red wine and Russell Crowe and a snowy day on a big bed, and you can keep your concept of heaven. (Sorry D. You know you're the man, right?)

Funny thing my instructor said to me, well, yelled at me, actually: "Rebecca! What kine-a Jimmy Cliff turn was dat!!!?!" She cracks me up and makes me very afraid at the same time.

I stand corrected, but only sort of

Looking at Lightspeedchick's blog, I see that in fact only 88.5% of game developers are male, not the 99% I tossed off in my earlier blahblah. But the point remains, right?

My Two Cents

As someone with absolutely no interest whatsoever in video games or gaming of almost any kind for that matter, perhaps this is not something I should weigh in on, But... since there was a big article about it in today's paper, I figure why not...

I agree with Warren Spector that the games industry needs to expand its appeal, or in his words, "We've got to stop limiting ourselves to adolescent male power fantasies". However, I think that such a change would be good for every possible reason other than the financial one. Look around you at just about every entertainment medium; adolescent male power fantasies are shoved down our throats every day. They're everywhere, from the Parasuco Jeans billboards to Survivor (all right, not much of a leap, it's all trash-pop culture) to so-called indie intellectual films like Sideways. (Why, exactly, does the nice, beautiful woman go out with the jerk-off wine know-it-all in the end? Well, just because, okay? A guy wrote it!)

By all means, expand the thinking behind game design to appeal to a broader audience (of broads, presumably), if you can do such a thing when probably 99% of game designers are geeky man-boys. But just as you'll never go broke underestimating the taste of the American public (P.T. Barnum), I don't think the games industry is going to go under appealing to the reptilian brain and the testosterone rush that drives the interests of the male of the species.

Also, I just think that most women don't have that kind of time to waste, but that's another discussion altogether.

First things first: Congratulations and love go out to my friend Dina and her family. They have a brand-new baby girl to cherish. I wish you and Naomi health and happiness, Dinabai!

The Halloween report: A great time. The costumes turned out really well, especially U's. She was a spider, with 8 eyes and 8 legs (4 of which were black tights stuffed with newspaper), a crazy black wig and a fat body. I. was Frankenstein's monster and he looked hilarious with his big hands and clunky boots and a matted wig over his mask. The baby was a very cute and chubby skeleton. I gave out the candy and, on a whim, threw together a pirate costume that was pretty damn good, if I do say so. My moustache left adhesive on my face but all in all we all got cleaned up and back to normal pretty quickly. Most importantly, the kids got an old-school haul of candy, with more than enough to share.