Musings

News Flash #1 - After long last, I have photos up on this little project. My Pentium (now known as the potted plant, because it's got as much processing power as an African Violet and I have to sweet talk it just to get it to open both Microsoft Word and WinAmp at the sametime) has graciously decided to take a two-week hiatus from stalling at the first opportunity. So beneath are some of my comrades, with a bit of scenery to boot.

News Flash #2 - I should be back in Saskatoon around the 15th of December.

Random Anecdote #1 - Ever been invited to a party where everyone knows each other except you? And you show up and have to use the washroom, but would feel it impolite to do so without first asking the host where it is? And because everyone's best of chums, old pals, comrades of the highest order, they're in this state of perpetual wackiness and randomness and the host refuses to tell you where it is? And instead engages you in this little improv game where she says her house never came with a toilet and you have to suggest comical places where you could pee in lieu of something made of porcelain?

This happens to me, like, 85% of the time. It usually goes something like this:

Me: "Excuse me, where's the washroom?"
Host: "We don't have one. You'll have to go out back. There's a shed out there."
Me (peering out into the dark): "That one? By the fence?"
Host: "That's the one. You could also go in a bottle."
Me: "It looks cold out there. How about the sink? It's closer and inside."
Host: "Look, how about you just go in the corner? That'd probably be okay."
Me: "Hey, that sounds good." (Reaches for zipper.)
Host: "Umm, actually, the bathroom's just through the kitchen, by the stairs."
Me: "Thanks."

It's very demeaning to have to threaten indecent exposure just to find a freaking bathroom. But if I were concerned about petty things like my dignity, I probably wouldn't be a journalism student.

Random Anecdote #2 - Got on the bus on Saturday, with my microphone in one hand and this satchel-like bag with my recording equipment inside slung over my shoulder. Minutes earlier, I'd been doing "streeters" - interviews with random Londoners about their opinions on an impending by-law to ban pit bulls. I actually felt like a real, honest-to-god reporter. It was a nice change from writing reports based on fact sheets.

Anyways, I get on this bus, show the driver my pass, and he turns to me, chuckles, and says "Hey, buddy, what have you been up to, a little portable karaoke?" Ha. Ha. Yes, I'm paying eight thousand dollars worth of tuition, and living in a city where the daily responsiblity of the weather forecaster is to brainstorm 365 synonyms for "bleak and depressing," just to bring Neil Diamond's "Sweet Adeline" into the comfort of your home. Ha. Ha. So I began to open my zipper, and that was that.

Annoyance #1 - This radio lab is 27 degrees celsius. Now I know why Peter Mansbridge doesn't wear pants when he hosts The National.

-T.

That's my building - North Campus. The NCB, if you're with it and hip. Screwing up my shot of its pristine, angular beauty is Rob - Winnipeg native, Exclaim! writer, and fashion trendsetter. 

One of the few saving graces of London is that, if you dig for them, you can find some pretty amazing used book stores. This is the outcome of one Saturday afternoon journey with a couple of friends from the library science program. From left to right: an amazing Mediterranean food stand (the remains of a chicken shwarma pita is Exhibit A, front and center), Ella from Halifax, and Sabina from Middle of Nowhere, Alberta. 

Hey, Ella, it says here that journalists really DO have souls! They're just smaller and more pathetic than our own.