Much Ado About Nothing

Kiri was here all last week and it was just... wonderful. I got to hog her from last Saturday until Sunday when we said sad goodbyes at the Abbotsford Airport. We didn’t do a whole lot other than just enjoy one another’s company, which is friendship at its best as far as I’m concerned. I’m so glad to have her; she’s a beautiful, beautiful girl, not only on the outside, but inside where it counts most.


On Friday night we went to Tinseltown to hear Megs sing. She sounded beautiful, even though the gig was a bit of a gong show - gallery opening; lots of arty folk. The guy in the tutu... well let's just say I wasn't turned on. Got to see Aidan for the first time in aaaages, so that was nice. Megs was right, he hasn't changed much!


We made the trek up to Whistler to see the boys of Stabilo playing in the village. Ran into Matty D. who sought me out in the crowd of teenyboppers and remarked that he was not at all surprised to see me. Well DUH Matt, it's STABILO.




Sunday I got to play around with this gorgeous beast. Oh King Midas I have missed you so much. Being a soundie is one of my favorite things and yet half the time I'm so frustrated because I desire to be really, really good. I know it'll come with time, but I'm stubborn and impatient.

I wrote a manifesto today for one of my English classes... it was pretty damn awesome. Maybe I'll post it sometime. In the meantime, you'll have to be satisfied with my jumbled thoughts on Saussure. We're onto Foucault right now... terrifying yet exhilerating. Time consuming either way (and this is a nice segue)...

Well it's nearing the dawn of a new day (28 minutes or so), and with that day comes a new vow to stop spending so much time online surfing, emailing, chatting, blogging (all of which have their place and their own value but uni must come first). So you'll not hear from me for a while. I'm starting tomorrow not because it's Lent but because I wanted to blog today. (Actually I'm giving up Starbucks for Lent.) I'll still be around once in a while, but I'm going to put the abovementioned stubbornness to work and see how long I can last before I break. Plus I've decided that it's time I stop substituting face-to-face encounters for the convenience of a keyboard.

In the meantime I'd like to plug some of the music I've been listening to in the last few weeks:

Abandoned Pools. These guys (well it's mostly just Tommy Walters, lead singer of The Eels) are so good. I've been listening to them since... that summer Devon was still here and the Emmerton brat was working at Tomko... and I've yet to grow tired of Humanistic (which is currently MIA from my collection, but speaking of John Emmerton, he has a copy, so perhaps I shall demand that he give it me). The Waiting to Panic EP is another chunk of gold... the most recent full-length release isn't one that I've found in Canada, but maybe one day I'll luck out when I'm in Bellingham.

Doves - Both the Last Broadcast and Some Cities have been on regular rotation both in the stereo and the iPod. Yum yum yum.

and finally...

Death Cab - the new album is aurgasmic.

And I will leave you with that. If you don't hear from me, ring me! I'm always up for a chat.

Cheers!
Sara

Here's some Friday Night Hot for you:




Mom and Dad, thanks for the braces.

"And it's a heart-breaker for Canada..." But... I was wearing my hat :(.

This is my post-game pout

I wonder if the press will blame this on the betting scandal. *rolls eyes*

And now that I've rolled around my kitchen floor, scared the hell out of Roxy, and screamed myself hoarse, I should maybe like, do some work.

In other news, Canada kicked some ass this morning - four medals so far for today! I LOVE YOU CANADA!!!!!!

#$(*&$%)(*&$)(*#(*)!!!!!!!!!

CANADA!!!! STOP SUCKING IMMEDIATELY! *screams and screams and screams*

I can't get anything done until this f***ing game is over!!

WIN WIN WIN WIN WIN!

SCORE SCORE SCORE SCORE SCORE!

BITE THEM IN THE FACE!!!

STAB THEM WITH YOUR FACE.... err SKATE!!!!

from the Clearing Poems

excerpt from 18
where is the lord without his cross dragging through the grass
where is the predator you dream?
what has passed through the clearing pauses through you what
passes leaves its scars

there is no pride left in what you are time has not moved toward
you it slips by
your flesh is busy falling apart so that another will circle your
bones with these thoughts

you begin to know the lord's step that familiar sound behind he
wants nothing of you
he follows you for the day you want something of him there is
nothing necessary here

you could be wrong sound can fool you among the aspen and
there's light everywhere
this is a place you can say anything and anything is false this is a
place you can't go wrong

-Patrick Friesen

"Cheney's Got a Gun"

[sung to the tune of Aerosmith's "Janie's Got a Gun"]

EGADS!

(photo lifted from Mat's site)


Kiri is coming! KIRI IS COMING KIRI IS COMING KIRI IS COMMMMMIIIIIINNNNGGGGGG. Kiri. Is. Coming.

That is all.

How Do You Circumsize a Jewish Fish?

One of the many very, very important questions pondered last night.

And here, this is for the ladies:





Hoo HAA.

A Message from Kelly Macdonald

Jee-whiz, isn't my sister turning into a gorgeous young thing? Here she is making her case for eye-contact at all times.

Dog kept me up most of the night. She has turned into a spoiled brat and she head butt's things, like, for instance my door. Repeatedly. And then she'll scratch and whimper. Keep in mind that it's 3am and she wants to spoon. Keep in mind that she's 16 pounds and somehow takes up the entire bed. The worst part of course is that you just can't be mad at her cuz she's so frickin' cute. I am glaring at her, but she notices that I'm paying attention to me and... yes, she's coming over to... lick my leg. Such is the Cuteness. See what I mean?

In the thick of things, I completely screwed up my dates; I thought Kirsten was coming NEXT Saturday, but she's coming THIS Saturday. WOOOOOOO. And we're going to see Stabilo woo hoo Hoooooooo.

I finished that paper. It feels sooooo good to finish something. And it also feels sooooo good to nap, so I might just do that.

So this Saussure guy. He rejects the idea that there is a "root" to language, a beginning that we can somehow get back to our linguistic roots (i.e., Sanskrit). He also rejects the idea that there is an authority figure (Divine or otherwise) from which meanings of words can be obtained. Instead, he argues that the association between signifiers and signifieds is completely arbitary (for example, if there is intrinsic value in the pairing of words to the objects that they represent, how can "dog" and "chien" and "Hund" represent the same thing?). I suppose you could argue that one of those is right, and that the other two are just messed up, but that's a moo point (a cow's opinion), because the purpose of language is to allow a "commun"ity of speakers to "commun"icate.

Rather than a naming process--which implies that there are pre-existing concepts and ideas being attached accordingly--Saussure argues that there is only a negative value to language. What we call something is completely arbitrary, except that it is different from all the other "somethings" in the linguistic system. "Box" is "box" only because "box" is not "shoe" or "mug" or "salamander." In a linear fashion, language is what it is because of what it isn't.

Now he doesn't say that--because there are no pre-existing names attached to concepts--reality doesn't exist outside of language. Rather, he would argue that it is entirely nebulous and out of our grasp, and that language enable use to articulate reality.

So, what is the point of all this rambling? Well, firstly I'm trying to wrap my head around some stuff, trying to say the same key things in a different way so that I "get it". But, it relates a lot to stuff that goes through my head on a regular basis. Especially spiritually... the language to which I have access falls pitifully short of expressing certain aspects of my faith, and I would argue Christianity in general. It's not that the concept or the feeling isn't there, but we're forced to work within certain parameters, within a limited system. We have to try to awkwardly fashion together a string of words that will communicate something that doesn't fit within the language available to us. I figure that's why we hear the same old same old. Words that pop up all the time, not just in the context of faith, but communication in general.

Instead of going all Big Brother/1984 and wondering if you can have the thought without the language, tonight I'm turning to a different question.


Can you “language” something (particularly an emotion or feeling) into existence (by which I mean it needs to take a form that can be expressed between human beings)? Is it possible, with the support of a willing community, to bring something from fuzziness into cognition through giving it a signifier and sound-image (see bit on sound-image below)? Is it possible that there are all sorts of ideas floating around in our heads that are nebulous and blurry and still exist but that we can’t express because the words don’t exist. . . not saying that there is a "presupposed system", but that there is a presupposed idea, or at least an already-present idea. Or maybe this will get us into just as much trouble. What would it take to do this? Can you invent words? Can you invent feelings? Can you invent reality? And even if you could do all that, would you still need to use ALREADY present signifiers/signifieds in order to describe the new signifiers/signifieds words? Would it require a WORD REVOLUTION? To draw a bit from someone else (Heidegger), can you "thing" new "things" into "thinging?"

Yeah... I dunno where I'm going with this. But, I like thinking about stuff along these lines. It confuses the hell out of me, and often leaves me wishing my brain worked better, but still... kinda cool.

I wonder what the hell I just wrote... meh, I'm going to go to sleep!

[edit]: I KNEW this would happen, and I'm pleased. A new tresaure discovered in the text. Deeper understanding, and thus, adjustment. Not of his argument yet, but to the terms.

"Sound-image" (from 'Course in General Linguistics'): [N]ot the material sound, a purely physical thing, but the psychological imprint of the sound, the impression that it makes on our senses. The sound-image is sensory... The psychological character of our sound-images becomes apparent when we observe our own speech. Without moving our lips or tongue, we can talk to ourselves or recite mentally a selection of verse.

Because You Care...

I haven't finished your Valentimes present yet, but when I do, it will be something else! Hell YES. In the meantime, have some Roxy. Everyone needs some Roxy in their life!


I'm armed with a ridiculously large mug of coffee (THANKS FOR MAKING ME COFFEE AT 10 AT NIGHT DAD!!!!!!), and I've had two Zip Fizzes, so it should be good times.

Back soooooon (I hope).

Weil Ich Liebe Sie!

Happy Valentime's Day!

Happy Valentine's Day!

I don't know why people hate it so much. Yes, I concede that it's (highly) overrated, but it's cute.

And if you're all very "lucky", I will have a Valentine's gift for my readership of 2.7, sometime later in the day.

[NB: "Happy Valentime's Day. This is Reality Check and WE ARE THRU!"]

Megs is singing at a gallery opening in a few weeks. Should be good times and everyone who reads this should come.

Feb 24th
Tinseltown
7pm
Free
Food and Bar Available

A new day, a new week, a new attitude; it's time for something different!

How about this (and here's the thing): I need to STOP thinking so much about MYSELF.

We are falling on confusing times.

Three posts in one day is absolutely ridiculous and unheard of. But here are some things that I wanted to say earlier but didn’t. So I figure it doesn’t really count.

Sometimes I feel fine. And sometimes I. . . don’t.

This weekend was, by and large, HORRID. Bad, bad bad. A big pile of suck. Rationality took a backseat to paranoia and extreme negativity as I spent all of it (with the exception of a few blessed hours at Starbucks trying to re-integrate back into reality) in my house, by myself, with the dog and my own nasty thoughts, looking for instant gratification that never came.

I have no control over my-friggin-self and it makes me feel so damn helpless. I am TRYING to be happy but sometimes I’m just NOT. In a very, very UNHAPPY sort of way. You know when you get the point where you’re past rationality and reasoning and even though part of your brain says that you have it SOOOO good--you have family and friends that love you and you have a car and a laptop and you’re getting a good education and you’ve been saved because Jesus died for you and your dog is really cute and you got to go overseas and you don’t have any cavities--the OTHER part of your brain, the part that controls the chemicals, is flinging you into the abyss of darkness. And the abyss makes you feel like no one really cares about you at all (false) and you have it worse than anyone else (false) and you are worthless (false) and stupid (false) and not good at anything (false).

Don’t ask me how long it’s been since I’ve prayed because I’m too ashamed to tell you. I’ve tried, but there’s no connection. The connection remains, unsevered, but I think I’ve been giving the Busy Signal.

I need to be medicated or counseled or exorcised or something, but I don’t know what to dooooo. I went to see a counselor who was more than happy to take my hand and stamp “depressed” all over it, but then he tried to dismiss me by shoving me into some group that I can’t even make because some of us have to go to class. The lady on the phone, nice as she was, pissed me off by asking if I would be interested in joining a group at the end of the session, in May or June. I politely told her (while gnashing my teeth) that my biggest concern is that I can’t concentrate and my productivity rating is somehow NEGATIVE and this is a problem.

So now I “might” be on a waiting list and “might” get to see a counselor sometime in March. Fuuuuuuuuckyooouuuuualllllllll. I guess that’s why it’s a free service. Because they don’t really serve many people at all. I think my medical covers like, three visits to a shrink. FIE! FIE I SAY. I want to get better and I want to feel normal. I have the will, but so far there is no way. And truth be told, some time I don’t have the will.

I have been in hiding because I don’t want people to see me like this. I wouldn’t want to hang out with someone like me when I get into these moods. The only alternative is to be FAKE and I don’t LIKE to be fake. I’d rather just not show up.

Friday and Saturday were NO GOOD. This morning thank God (thank you thank you thank you God) I was given the precious gift of quasi-sanity so I only felt half of all that. It wasn’t raining (Hallelujah), and I got to visit with Z and then C--two great people. One visit was planned and lengthy, the other short and spontaneous. You know what? I have friends who care about me. And then, as I was brainstorming, light bulbs started going off. Not the kind you find in a penlight, or a nightlight, but beautiful, brilliant 100 watt light bulbs, or flashing neon signage even. You know what? I am not stupid. But a few moments of clarity are not enough when the rest of the time I’m befuddled as to why the hell I feel the way I do.

Sigh. I always say that it’s ok to feel weak and it’s ok to be sad and it’s ok to be angry. But the problem here is that none of those emotions make any sense to me.

I DO have it so, so good. Heck, when I think rationally, I like myself, faults, flaws and all. I KNOW where my worth comes from. But that doesn’t matter so much when the evil monster takes over and spins me out of control.

Gaaaaaaaah.

OK, I just needed to get that out.

[end rant]

And if Will doesn't gloss your lips...

Perhaps Mr. Chris Kattan will do the trick

WE LOVES THE RAIDERSESES!!!!


YOU SHUT YOUR LITTLE MONKEY MOUTH!


Aaaaaaand Part Deux

I am a conehead.

For the House Ridden...

May I recommend The Best of Will Ferrell Volume One?

IT'S A SIMPLE QUESTION! WOULD YOU EAT THE MOON IF IF WERE MADE OF SPARE RIB?!



THAT IS SO SCRUMTRILLESCENT I CAN HARDLY MOVE


DINGLE DANGLE DINGLE DANGLE SOMEONE'S CALLING YOU GOULET!


HOW TO TRAIN YOUR PUPPY WITH MOCKERY AND VERBAL HUMILIATION


I GOT A FEVER... FOR MORE COWBELL


Worth the wait and poor quality as far as I'm concerned!

Brea, Andrew and Sara should not be left alone.

I've been sick all week but the anti-biotics are kicking in finally. I've been trapped in the Macdonald Compound for days, having missed a midterm on Thursday as well as handing in two papers that were due. Thank goodness for that doctor's note.

The rest of the family is up at Whistler skiing, so it's me and Roxy this weekend. Hopefully I'll be able to get a lot of work done, although this evening has been devoted to watching Saturday Night Live DVDs and walking the dog. I'm jealous that they're there and I'm here; I was definitely looking forward to throwing myself down a mountain, but what can ya do? In the grand scheme of things, I've got it good.

Hopefully I'll be feeling better so I can make it out to church tomorrow evening, but I'm not holding my breath. Cuz I can't. Cuz I'm sick. Nyuck nyuck nyuck.

Update on a previous post: I went to see that counsellor a week ago, and he says I have depression. I don't think I really have any right to be depressed, but I guess you can't help the way you feel. So I'll just have to get better! Anyway, I figure holing myself up in my house for six days straight isn't the best idea. Maybe I'll just pop over to Starbucks for a few hours with a book so that I can be surrounded by some human noise. No offense, Roxy. Everyone's so busy these days; I'm so glad it's reading week coming up!!!!

Aaaaaaanyway. That's enough negativity! I have been taking a bunch of pictures lately, so here are some from a trip downtown last month, where Brea and I met up with my Australian friend Andrew, who was on a stopover on his way to Toronto. It was retardedly fun!


Here we are being the badasses on the bus. Have you ever tried to take a picture of yourself at the back of the bus? It's not very easy.


The goal was to find Andrew something subtle, something that said, "Yes. I am in Canada." I think we did quite well.


Davey Crockett times three.


The hats are self-explanatory. The hand signals come from an inside joke that started in the PPAC choir. Bwahahaha.


Furry Brea.


Furry Sara and Brea.


The plural of Moose is Meese. Trust me; I'm an English major.


Andrew smiling just before he ran away from us.

Happy Friday!

"This is Rock and Roll"

The coffee loves me

In Australia, they almost always put a little heart in your foam. I think it's a cute little touch!

I JUST SAW FIFTEEN GOAT-DEERS!!!

Don't ask, just enjoy :).

[photo 'enhancement' by John Emmerton]