2007 Year In Review

Another year draws to its conclusion – and that can only mean one thing: Top 10 Lists!

What makes the cut and what didn't pass the mustard in the Double-Oh-Seven edition of everyone's favourite intercontinentalist? Let's have a looksee...

Out With The Old
2007 Lowlights, Fiascos, Disasters and Other Miscellaneous Imbroglios

§...Writing the second part of my grad school entrance exam on Good Friday! What kind of God-fearing Catholics are they in France to schedule an exam on the day our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ did whatever he did on Good Friday? (Bad Catholics, that's what. The going-to-hell-straight-away kind of Catholics). And it certainly didn't help that the exam started at 10am and lasted until 5:30! Yikes! (What's the French translation for 'permanent nerve damage due to hand cramps'?)

§...The Coalmine, a.k.a my previous job. Oh so much to dislike. Was it the cubicles, or endless paper chase, solving problems that should have never existed in the first place? Maybe it was the hour-long commute to horrid North York? Or maybe the fact that I always felt stupid because my training was inadequate? And four people doing the job of eleven was no fun either. I could go on and on, but I'll just thank god that it's all over now instead!

§...Rdriv.sys virus – how you ruined my life! At a time when I felt "Gee, things can't get any worse," you came along and did just that. I loved paying 200€ trying to get you the hell out of my computer, and in the end you won anyway. You suck and I hate you!

§...The weather in Toronto this summer. As if it wasn't bad enough that it barely broke 25° all summer long, then I had to listen to idiots go on and on about "how nice it was that it was too hot." Uh, when you spend the other nice months of the year worrying how long it will take exposed flesh to freeze, there is no such thing as a summer that's too hot! Why can't you just enjoy it, bitches?

§...My digital camera breaking - the day after my computer died. Again, just when I though things couldn't get any worse, they did. I think I even went through the five stages of grieving when I realised what had happened. Really, the nadir of my time here in Paris (but who knows how many other unforeseen things have yet to go wrong for me in the City of Light, ha ha).

§...Le Consulat Général de France à Toronto; in particular -but not limited to- the Visa Section, the Education Section, their automated telephone system, their online appointment booking system, and all people who have ever worked there or will ever work there in the future – I hate you. Already blogged about here. I am especially upset, however, at the woman in the Education section who said I couldn't apply for French government bursaries as a foreign student if I was outside of France. In fact, I could have done exactly that. All I needed to do was to apply at the Education Section of my nearest French diplomatic mission... i.e. - it was her bloody job to tell me about the French government bursaries! She just couldn't be bothered.

§...Anything leading up to, including, and following my Toronto departure was of course a big emotional mess. Taxi to the airport: messy. Aimless what-am-I-doing-with-my-life wandering around Paris: messy. MMC's Singapore departure: very messy. Too many bloody mary's on AC880 to Paris: messy.

§...ESIT (my school), blogged about in profusion: 1, 2, 3, 4 . Okay, I know now that French universities are a disorganised nightmare. It still doesn't really make me feel any better. Further example of ridiculousness: I wondered how we were going to get the results of the exams we just finished writing. Perhaps a monk was going to transcribe them onto parchment and they would be delivered to us by carrier pigeon in six to eight months? Or maybe they would tell us to go line up in some random university administration building -open 2 to 3:30 Tuesdays and alternate Thursdays, way out in the middle of nowhere — only to get there and have them tell us that we actually needed to go to a different building on the opposite side of Paris? — I decided to ask a professor how we were going to receive our marks. She said she didn't know. So then I went to the equivalent of the registrar's office to ask them. They didn't know either! How can they not know – they're the bloody registrar!! Honestly, a level of disorganisation that would make Nicaragua shake its head.

§...Stepping in candle-wax the second time I wore my brand new shoes, thereby ruining them. –I guess it was meant to teach me a lesson about buying too-expensive, fancy shoes. What it really did, however, was make me want to go out and buy even fancier shoes.

§...The far too frequent "have-I-made-a-horrible-life-decision?" moments. While I do think translation is the answer -my school-induced traumas, the apprehension, anxiety, my crash landing, the extra year- are all making me wonder if Paris was really the question.

Hmmn, certainly a grouping of calamity skewed towards the France side of the year... On vera ce que ça donne, as my grandmother used to say (we'll see what happens). I declare 2007 to have been the year of the wait-and-see. Plenty of good stuff happened as well:

Best In Show
2007 Hit Parade, Highlights, Accomplishments and diverse Happinesses

‡...Tiki Hula Luau, version XXVIII. Blogged about here. Simply amazing! When Jenni said it was like Holly Golightly's party in Breakfast at Tiffany's I swooned and nearly fainted (or, I nearly Liza'ed, if you speak gay).

‡...Summer beachy fun with the boys, nearly every weekend this summer at Hanlan's. What better way than a photo montage to relive the melanoma-induced amazingness? 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.

‡...Waking up on Sunday morning with MMC, baking quiche and watching Project Runway on DVD. So fun and so gay! (Just like me!)

‡...This photo. Kawaiiiii!


‡...Finally! –A movie about what it's like to be me! The Curiosity of Chance hits all the right notes and deserves best picture of the year for its genuine and captivating recreation of my formative years (though the small matter of royalties has yet to be settled). Even better was that director Russell Marleau commented on my post!

‡... Centre Island Maze one Sunday at the end of April, the first day of real spring. The first day of spring is always fabulous, and the maze -which I had never been to before- was oozing with spookiness in the slanty afternoon light. Wandering around the creepy overgrown hedges, I thought 'either I'm going to end up in Narnia, or, none of use will ever leave here alive because of some insane axe murderer.' Good times!

‡...Although I have been Complainy Complainerson vis-à-vis Paris, it is still a very beautiful city. Aimless flâneuring always comes up with some charming lane or forgotten courtyard. One particularly Parisian moment involved standing at the very tip of Île de la Cité, at night, in the pouring rain, watching the bateaux-mouches gliding along the murky Seine like a real-life film noir.

‡...Finding out I got accepted to the school back in May. The memory has been somewhat tarnished now by the many and myriad problems since, but it was certainly great at the time.

‡...Buuuuufalo with MMC. Who doesn't love a good road trip – especially one that involves art, shopping, Buffalo wings, gay bars, and winning money at Casino Niagara? Special props to the Twlight Zone Buffalo downtown core, devoid of all signs of human habitation and the Twilight Zone Canadian border crossing at 4AM.

‡...The race for who gets to fill the last 'Highlight' slot is too close to call. I'll leave it as a photo finish and let the judges decide. Pride or Fake Prom?

Photo of the Year 2007
This section is interactive for all ya’ll! Time to vote on the year's best photos! Votes, praise, donations, and solid gold gifts can be left in the 'Comments' section.

Photo of the Year 2007
Montmartre - April Fake Prom - August Sacré-Cœur - September

Photo of the Year 2007, Portrait Category
Pride - June

Beach - August

Photo of the Year 2007, Tokyo Tintin Category

Winner due to personal bias - It's my favourite.

What was I thinking?!? 2007

Hair explosions in the Musée d'Orsay are so 2003!

Caution, this combination of eyeglasses and watch may induce seizures.

Best dressed 2007

Fake Prom (August), winner by acclamation

New Years Resolutions
As always, my New Year's resolution is to be more fabulous. Last year I said I was aiming for a "glitter" rating of fabulousness in 2007, which I feel was achieved by summertime. I'd like to thank the Academy, the producers, all the people who worked on the project, and of course my many amazing friends — I owe it all to you.

Unfortunately, intercontinental migration has since caused a steep hit in the standings, and, despite picking up glamour points from Paris and Linda Evangelista, things are currently hovering around "glint" levels. Lots of hard work ahead to get things back on track in 2008, but definitely achievable.

Happy New Year!
Bonne Année!
¡Feliz Año Nuevo!
明けましておめでとうございます!
恭賀新禧!

Pope Benedict XVI suddenly reveals his true self

I think his plan will be to make us all his slave-humans and put us to work in the xenon mines of Argus2000.

Entreprise et son environnement

A funny story from the beginning of the semester that I forgot to relate because I was too busy feeling sorry for myself (and a further example of the farcical school system here):

I have a class called Entreprise et son environnement about commerce and the business world, so you can understand and then translate economicky texts. While quite often French university classes don't use a textbook, this one does. Fine, no problemo.

I didn't have a chance to go to the bookstore, but the next week of class, another student puts up her hand and says "I went to the bookstore, but they told me the textbook is out of print." To which the professor responds "Oh yes, I know. Very unfortunate. But you can't very well expect me to re-write my whole course just because the textbook is out of print. You'll just have to make do somehow."

...Isn't France ridiculous? C'est n'importe quoi ici !

It's a Lacroix! (ver. II)

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I brave a French supermarket with the lovely Organa to find shelves and shelves of Evian bottles designed by Christian Lacroix.

It's fabulous! Good.

Yōkoso Japan

Waaanh! What am I doing in stupid France with all their chocolate eclairs and cigarette smoke? Japan is amazing! I want to go back.

View Yōkoso Japan video.
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For the love of God!!!

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Last night my digital camera broke too.

I feel like I'm cursed.

Ya know, it would be nice if just one thing could go right

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Baah! My computer is dead. Totally dead.

Foux de Fa Fa

Whenever things get too French for my liking, I now just say "Foux du fa fa fa" and everything turns out fine. Like yesterday when I foolishly decided to take the Métro to the pool during the transit strike. My stop is the first on the line, so I didn't really appreciate how bad it would get (but it got very bad). People were having shouting matches and fist-fights trying to get on the train basically the entire way there (foux de fa fa). On the way back I had to wait 50 minutes for a train to come (foux du fa fa fa), and when it did come, it was impossible to get on (foux de fa fa). So I ended up walking home for almost two hours (foux du fa fa fa).

The Unglamorous Life of an Exile

Now I know what you're thinking; What could me more glamorous than cocktail receptions at UNESCO? Or pastries with gold leaf for breakfast? Or an intimate tête-à-tête with Linda Evangelista?

While those things do have all the Max Factor blingyness that I was expecting from Paris, let me start off by saying that the UNESCO headquarters building is such a hideous concrete monstrosity that it makes a Soviet polytechnic university in Albania look like a Loire château! Drop-tile ceilings with panels missing, water-damaged walls, blinding fluorescent lighting like a high-school cafeteria. Ugh! How can people working a building so hideous and banal make any kind of decisions about culture and heritage? At this rate we might as well house the United Nations in an airplane hanger too. UNESCO headquarters building, you are officially: Dead to Me!

Hideous modernist eyesores aside, my problems in Paris have been twofold. First, it's been much harder to make friends than I'd expected. French people generally tend to be reserved, so it's to be expected that it will take time. I was surprised, however, that the school does nothing for new students to meet each other. No frosh week or pub night, nothing. Doubly surprising since they make such a big deal about how 50% of the student body comes from other countries - yet everyone is left to fend for themselves. I'm starting to get to know people now, but for the most part its still just a 'say hi in the hallways' kind of friendship. It's hard being so far from the people you care about.

The second problem is the school itself. Although my school, ESIT, is regarded as one of the best translations schools in Europe (if not in the world), I have been rather shocked by the caliber of things so far. Teachers often cancel class or show up late. When professors do turn up, they often don't teach the subject, go off on tangents, contradict themselves, or each other. Staff are not able or not available to answer student questions, or don't know what's going on. And, most surprisingly, there is no schoolwork - just a final exam worth 100% of your mark! (WTF?) Also, in third year you have to write a thesis, which is something that I wanted to avoid at all costs and immediately discounted any school where this was a requirement (lucky for me ESIT failed to mention this small detail anywhere on their literature!).

I know now most of these things to be typical of French universities. Since it's practically free to go, they don't have any money to do anything properly, nor do they care. A rude awakening to be sure.

A further problem with the school is that I had to have a meeting with the programme director when I enrolled in my classes. She told me there was a concern that English wasn't good enough -this clearly didn't make sense to me, so over the course of several consultations and discussions the problem morphed into my Spanish not being good enough, then my French not being good enough, then back to Spanish, and now to both my Spanish and French not being good enough. (See what I mean about the school being disorganised?). Regardless of what the problem actually is, why wouldn't they have told me before I uprooted my whole life, quit my job and moved to a different continent?! So negligent and irresponsible!

The whole thing has left me very frustrated – and confused since my Spanish is clearly the best in the class. I have always been extremely sensitive about my French though. When I was younger, my French-Canadian mum put so much pressure on me to speak French. This made me intensely self-conscious of the fact that I didn't speak it properly, thus less likely to speak, resulting therefore in more pressure (and ultimately disappointment). –A downward spiral of franco-badness really. While I would say my French is neither the best nor the worst in class, this situation has really played into all my worst fears that my French, in fact, is not good enough after all. Très déprimant.

The results are in!

All polling stations have now closed. Her Majesty's Royal Referendum on the Status of Hair reports the following results:

Short: 30%
Long: 55%
Spoiled Ballot: 15%

With the assent of Her Excellency, the Governor-General, my hair with heretoforth be grown long.



(I was hoping you would all spare me all the hassle that is long hair, but who am I to question the masses?)

Blogger Poll: Important Life Decisions Ahead

I have to cut my hair. The time has come. Please help me decide whether I should cut it much shorter than it's been lately, or grow it out long again.

For your reference:
Short
Long

Points of consideration: My hair is matchstick straight. Consequently, trying to get it to do anything other than look like a mop of hay on my head is very difficult when long. The current French look is dirty and short.

Please leave your poll responses in the 'Comments' section of this post. Once all polling stations have reported, I will take the appropriate steps to carry out your wishes.

Harry Potter and le Moulin des Secrètes

Recently, I decided to re-read all the Harry Potter books before going on to read the final book in the series. Since I was going to the effort, I thought I might as well re-read them in French, to get some extra language practice. I get to learn all kinds of words like 'broomstick' (manche à balai) and 'cauldron' (chaudron). –Bet you didn't know that Hogwarts was called 'Poulard' in French.

I just finished 'Arry Pottèr à l'école des sorciers (as Philosopher's Stone is known here), and came across this, which I'm sure you'll appreciate as much as I did.

Enjoy!

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford

Beautiful. But halfway through this movie I wondered why I wasn't enjoying it. Then I remembered, I'm not overly fond of Westerns. - Strangely, it had never occurred to me that this movie about Jesse James would indeed be a Western.

In fact, this is really two movies glommed into one; a movie about Jesse James and an extended dénouement about the life of Robert Ford after the assassination. The first two thirds of this longish movie consisted of a rambling drift through the end of James' life, filled with too many characters and no clear sense of motivation on anyone's part. I often lost track of the relationship between the many men, their feuds and their alliances. By the time things became (somewhat) clearer, I had already begun watching the hands on my watch tick by.

The cinematography was beyond gorgeous, so at least there was something to keep my interest during labyrinthine periods of plot exposition. I love shots of wheatfields in the wind and clouds wafting through the sky as much as the next guy, but it all starts to get a bit taxing when the rest of the movie is dragging.

Yet when the assassination did finally happen, instead of expecting the movie to wrap up, I became increasingly engrossed in the story of Robert Ford. I wanted to know more of his life and what became of him. It seemed that this last third was the movie the director really wanted to make, and the Jesse James story was appended to make the movie sell-able. When the movie did end, I thought it was almost a shame, because Ford was really the much more interesting character of the two.

This movie has Oscar-buzz written all over it. Brad Pitt nomination for sure -since he seems about due- but Casey Affleck is the real star of this show. (Or maybe best supporting actor Oscar to the wheatfields blowing in the wind).

I give the clouded, confusing Assassination of Jesse James two Colt pistols out of five, purely based on the cinematography, whereas The Coward Robert Ford gets five out of five for a complete re-engagement of my interest in this tale of a complicated life.

Strike while the iron is hip

Today there is a transit strike and the city is half shut down. I'm profiting from my lack of classes and the poor weather to hunt down the full two-hour series premier of Beverley Hills 90210 on Youtube.

Oh the hair, the clothes, the music! 1990 really was the low point in world culture – all the shoulder pads of the 80s with none of the techno and raves of the 90s. (I do like Brenda's vampy cocktail dresses however).

Enjoy!

90210 Series Premier

(Follow the links on the right to get to the next segments).

Fashion Weeks continues

I still have a virus on my computer after taking it to the shop for a third time, which means I still have to troll around internet cafés and try to deal with their maddening French keyboard layouts. (Example: to type a period, you need to hit shift semi-colon. Nonsense!).

So here, in honour of fashion week, is something to tide you over until I can somehow rid myself of this bubonic computer plague. Enjoy!

No one sent me the memo!

Apparently it is Fashion Week in Paris now. Oh hey look, there's Linda Evangelista (current hair configuration: rusty red, short) walking out of a tent. And -I think- Naomi Campbell, but I couldn't really tell because she was mobbed by the flash-flash-click of paparazzi, and I was a ways away.

C'est la vie parisien!

.................................

I Japan went to and now no speaky English can do

I thought this one was especially apropos.

Classes start tomorrow

And I'd love to tell you all about my foibles with French bureaucracy and my flâneur adventures around Paris — however I currently have a virus on my computer which is defying eradication and threatens to take over my whole life. I've already taken it back to the shop twice to have everything wiped clean and the operating system reinstalled, but to no avail – the virus remains. Not being very technically inclined, I'm not sure how this is possible, but nevertheless.

So for the foreseeable future I am relegated to internet cafés and their incredibly annoying French keyboard layouts.

More as the situation unfolds. In the meantime, just keep watching that M.I.A. video — it's amazing! I'm mesmerised.

Jimmy

How much do I love M.I.A.? This is instantly my new favouritest video in the whole world ever!!

The Latest News from Nippon

Heavyweights panic as woman dives for sumo ring

Thu Sep 20, 12:05 PM

TOKYO (Reuters) - A woman invaded a sumo ring -- a sacred arena from which females are banned -- in Tokyo during a major tournament, domestic media said on Thursday, then was pulled down by a referee and one of the sport's huge wrestlers.

The middle-aged woman dashed from the side of the Kokugikan sumo stadium on Wednesday and shoved away a female security guard before rolling onto the ring just as a bout was set to begin, the Yomiuri newspaper said.

The Japan Sumo Association insisted that though the woman did enter the raised platform around the batting ring, she did not set foot on the ring, or dohyo, itself.

"It's bad for the heart," said Takamisakari, a popular wrestler who helped catch the woman, told the Sports Nippon daily. "What was the person trying to do while we were wrestling seriously?"

It was not clear why she had attempted to reach the ring during one of the sport's heavily televised six big tournaments, but she was carrying a bundle of flyers saying "help, bad spirits," Nikkan Sports daily reported.

Such an intrusion would be a severe faux pas for the ancient sport, which is so serious about keeping females out that a female governor of Osaka had to delegate prize-giving duties to a male subordinate at a 2001 tournament.

Japan's giant wrestlers battle it out in a ring with a diameter of 4.6 meters (15 feet) set in the centre of a sand stage raised around 50 centimeters (19 inches) from the ground.

Tradition forbids women from entering the ring on the grounds that it is sacred and their presence, considered unclean, would pollute it.

"It's just the way it's been from the past," an official from the sumo association said.

Women were also banned in the past from climbing mountains or entering mines in Japan.

Yahoo News

French buraucracy will be the death of me!

I went to Immigration today to get my carte de séjour (resident card), halfway across Paris for them to tell me that foreign students need to have their immigration file processed in the foreign student centre of the Cité universitaire (at the opposite end of Paris). When I got there, they asked for several documents that weren't on the list of documents to bring (though somewhat wise now to their bureaucratic shenanigans, I have been amassing photocopies in triplicate of every document even vaguely related to this process). The lady seemed ever-so-slightly disappointed that my file was in order. I, on the other hand, was rather more disapointed that they didn't ask for some documents I had to jump through hoops to get (like the letter from OHIP or a copy of my insurance policy in French). Now I have to do a medical exam (!) in Mid-October (!!) before I can get my permanent card.

I think back to those dreamy, rose-coloured days when I arrived in Japan and a kindly old English-speaking gentleman filled out my one-page form for me at the ward office. Much nicer than the shouting and chaos of the student immigration centre that smacked more of a makeshift refugee camp than anything else.

And I bet you didn't you know that you need 15 different document to open a bank account in France – including a copy of the deed to your parents' house? Honestly! How does anything actually get done in this country? To think of the mountains of paperwork that must get stuffed into vaults every day in France, never to be seen by human eyes again...

French Toast calling T-Dot. Can you read me T-Dot?

Flight was très normale— totally Dullsville, as per Air Canada standard. Settling in fine, though I though I was going to kill myself and many people around me trying to lug my 80lb suitcase through the many ups and downs of the Paris Métro. The neighbourhood is nice, quite convenient and the apartment is all old-school Parisian mouldings and marble fireplace, which is swank. The roomie seems a bit kooky, but I think it'll be doable for sure. I didn't wake up to him watching me sleep last night, so I guess things are on the right track.

BranTom were in town yesterday and today as they made a train connexion in Paris en route to a friend's wedding in northern Italy. It was so nice to see them and have them around to help me acclimatise a bit. Then it seems as though R&R will make a continental jaunt la semain prochaine and Madame Sly is perhaps hot on their heels. Seems as though I'll be spending more time with Toronto peeps now that I live in Paris than I ever did when we actually lived on the same continent. Strange since virtually no one showed even the slightest interest in coming to visit me in Tokyo...

But I digress. I do have to say that things haven't been all pâtisseries and poodles since I arrived. Ever since I found out that this was going to be a three year deal, I've felt a lot of trepidation about pulling myself up again after so long away and after settling into a really stellar and great bunch of people. While the city is beautiful, it feels very isolating in a way that Tokyo never did (clearly bizarre since Tokyo is definitely the more alien of the two). Perhaps it's because of the shared language that everything seems so tantalisingly close in Paris , but just beyond the surface I can see that I'm still culturally a continent away. So much history and tradition that I just know nothing about (which strangely enough was not the case when I went to Tokyo).

Also I need to find a job toute suite as the lack of cash flow is giving me heart palpitations every time I have to pay for something in this très, très expensive city. I have two weeks now before classes start so hopefully I'll be able to sort something out soon.

Trusting that all is well in Toronto, Japan, or where ever you are reading this.

À bientôt !

Life is a Cabaret ol' chum

In honour of the day after Labour Day and all things scholastic, I present to you this Youtube. Classroom pranks are always good times, and who doesn't love a little Broadway now and then?

I wish this could have happened even once during university lectures — anything to break up the bone dry monotony of professors prattling away like an academo-speak jackhammer about the semiotics of contexuality and meta-hegemony.

God, how much fun would it be if life was a non-stop Broadway musical? Just think of all the dancing and costumes! And the constant perfect smiles! Of course we'd never get anything done because we'd need to break in to song about going to the bank machine or reheating yesterday's leftovers, but really getting things done is over-rated anyway.

Bring on the spirit fingers!

Religious schooling for none!

He hasn't even been elected yet, but candidate for the Ontario premiership, John Tory, has gone straight to the bottom of the barrel with his plan to fund all faith-based schools in the province. Already dead to me before he even had a chance to do anything, tsk tsk. Shame really, though entirely expectable I'm afraid – with a last name like 'Tory' he had nowhere to go but down.

For those not in the know: way back in the days of Upper and Lower Canada, two separate school systems were set up to protect the religious freedoms of Protestants and Catholics. Over time the Protestant system became secular and most provinces realised that schools are for learning while churches are for religion, and subsequently merged the two systems together. Ontario, however, decided to eschew this crazy, new-fangled, division-of-church-and-state thinking and has held on to the two systems, spending public money to fund both the secular and Catholic systems. — I don't know about you, but I'd prefer not to have my taxes go to the No Gays, Condom-free, Pope-raganda Hate machine of the Catholic School System, but that being said, provinces are actually constitutionally obligated to fund both systems.

Now instead of ignoring this constitutional requirement like all the other provinces have done*, Ontario continues to fund religious education for Catholics — but only for Catholics. Those who wish to send their children to private Jewish, Muslim or Protestant schools are on their own to foot the whole bill. This is obviously discriminatory. But rather than making it all even Steven by saying 'no funding for any faith-based education,' John Tory wants everyone to put a finger in the pie and spend $400 million to fund any pastor, imam or rabbi who wants to teach religion as fact.

Great, because the exact thing that Ontario needs is for hundreds of millions of dollars, which could be spent on homelessness, climate change or health care, to instead be spent teaching children the "facts" of Creationism.

Religion's place is not in a school –infuriating young minds à la Northern Ireland– but rather inside a church where it's easily avoidable for people who don't care.

Mr Tory, your policy is stupid and will serve only to further segregate more people from the Ontario mainstream. — Although, since religious people tend to be conservative, and the Ontario mainstream too lefty-loosy, perhaps this is exactly what you are intending. A generation of religious zealots to grow up and vote for you and your Conservative Party of Jerks. I see right through your smoke and mirrors and am putting you directly to 'Dead to Me' Level Two (just one step above your evil overlord Stephen Harper). Thankfully you will most likely lose the upcoming election and you can go back to obscurity where you belong and stop bothering decent secularists like me.

Apartment Found!

After much stress and hair-pulling, worry, baguettes and Gaulois cigarettes, I finally managed to secure an apartment! The religious gay finally got back to me to offer me the apartment and I figured at this point beggars can’t be choosy, so I decided to take it. I’m still weirded out by the religious gayness, and am concerned about waking up in the middle of the night with the guy watching me sleep —but he seemed nice enough on the telephone and the apartment looked alright in photos. It’s close to hip Bastille and Ménilmontant, not far from gay Marais, and conveniently walking distance from ‘Nation’ express RER station.

Now I can stop panicking about that and start panicking about all the other things I have to do in the week and a half before I leave.

Still no apartment

This is starting to make me really anxious. The other day I sent out about 30 emails to prospective apartments and only got one answer back — and that was to say that the apartment was no longer available. Ack!

Apparently nothing gets done in France while people are on holiday for the month of August, then it's a mad scramble for apartments come September. This is bad news for me because I'll still be in Canada at the beginning of September and unable to line up to view apartments or to meet roommates in person. I decided that desperate times call for desperate measures and contacted the religious gay about his apartment and he hasn't gotten back to me. I also contacted the first-bedroom-through-the-second-bedroom guy and he hasn't gotten back to me either. Then a ray of hope appeared when one of my friends in Paris said her coworker was looking for a roommate – but then when I spoke to her on the phone, she had said that her situation had changed and she wouldn't be looking until later in October. Le blah. The search continues at frenetic pace.

In the interests of taking my mind off more serious and pressing matters, here are two Youtubes about one of my favourite topics: The People's Republic of China!


Loves it! My favourite English names that I came across when I lived there were "Cinderella" and a boy called "Apples."


Ha-ha! It's funny 'cause it's true. Spongebob is both educational and hilarious.

Brokeback by the Bell

I have to now come out and admit that when I was a young, impressionable gay, I had many a porno fantasy about Zak and Slater getting it on in the high school change rooms.

With sexy, sexy shows like this, it's no wonder that everyone's a homo nowadays.

Vive la bureaucratie!

bureaucracy
1818, from Fr. bureaucratie, from bureau "office," lit. "desk" (see bureau) + Gk. suffix -kratia denoting "power of;" coined by Fr. economist Jean Claude Marie Vincent de Gournay (1712-59). Bureaucrat is from 1842; bureaucratic is from 1836.

So basically, what that is all saying is that the French basically invented bureacracy a long long time ago and have perfecting it ever since. — Today was my visa interview at the French consulate and I have to say I can't wait to plunge right into the labrythine details of France's bureaucratic system! Yeay morose paperpushers getting fat of government largesse!

I arrived at 8:45 for my 9:10 appointment with the Education section, all prepared for my 9:30 apointment with the Visa section afterwards. All is well and I sit and wait. And wait. 9:10 rolls around and I wait a little more. –Now keep in mind that these are appointments which must be booked weeks and weeks in advance, are cancelled immediately if you do not show up on time, and can only be booked online; no rescheduling of missed appointments is possible at the consulate. – It is now 9:29 and a woman from the Education section comes out and says "Didn't you get za messâge zat your appointmunt iz cancel?" –Um,.. no. "My collègue said she left you za messâge to not come for today's meeting." –Um,.. I never got any message, no. "Oh là là! Okay, qweekly we will meet and zen you hurray to za Visa section."

So we make haste for the Education section and run into the infamous 'collègue' of message (the same woman I met in October who didn't tell me anything I needed to know and the same woman who couldn't help me in June when I was having all my problems trying to get in touch with the school). "Why deedn't you get my messâge?!" (As though not getting her message was my fault) –Well, uh, when did you phone me? “Non non. I sent you a messâge on zee appointment booking système on zee internet.” –Uh, I didn’t know I had to check back there after I made my appointment. “Yes, of course you ‘ave to check! Eeet iz very impôrtante!”

Murderous thoughts aside, it clearly was not very important because I filled out the exact same forms and answered the exact same questions as when I met with the Education department in October!

I then make tracks over to the Visa section next door and when I get there the woman says “You are late.” (Implication: Your appointment is cancelled). –I was in Education department having my interview with them. “I see. Neext time, you mûst arrive on time.” (Right, I’ll keep that in mind when I apply for a second French student visa). So I hand in all my paperwork and wait, wait, wait. Finally my name is called and I go back up to the counter: “You need to shew us a banque statement.” –Uh, I didn’t bring one. It wasn’t on the list of documents to bring. “Non. You need to ‘ave a banque statement wiss 9000$ balânce.” –Uh,.. I don’t have that. “You need ziss for zee visa.” –Well, uh, I do have my guarantor’s letter (thanks Mum) signed by her bank manager and notarised showing proof of funds to support me. “Non. Zees is for exchange students only. You need zee banque statement.” (Then why the bloody hell was this costly and obnoxious-to-obtain document on the list of papers to bring for non-exchange students!?) “You come back tomorrow, between 12 and 1, wiss ziss document and you can get your visa.”

Aaargh! So now I have to take more time off work tomorrow, go back to consulate, and provide a document which was never asked for, but says the exact same thing as a document I already had!!!

Boo French bureaucracy!

Single, White Shallow Grave

(Alternate Title: The Hunt for Non-Crazy Roommate)

......................................

Moving is never easy, and moving continents is even harder, but the hardest thing of all is trying to find a roommate. Up to this point, I’ve been pretty lucky with my living situations. I’ve always lived with people I knew well enough to gage if cohabitating was going to result in psychotic puppy murder or burying dead bodies in forests. (The exception being of course Katie, who Jennifer had interviewed when I was on holiday in Japan and I only met once I returned with Katie already moved in. I just kept my eyes well away from her stilettos and everything worked out lovely. And at least I knew that if I ever ended up pinned to kitchen floor with a chef's knife through my shoulder, I could blame it all on Jennifer's poor judgment of character).

With my move to France, however, I'm completely in the dark; potentially moving in straight in from the airport with a person I've never even seen. It's a freaky thought (added to all my other freakouts and panic-attacks regarding my move). That added to the quote-unquote "Old-World charm" of Parisian apartments (e.g. toilet in kitchen, no kitchen at all, common bathroom only accessible through a bedroom) has made my apartment hunt a troublesome affaire. And an expensive affaire too I might add – average price for shared accommodation is around 600€ (+875$ Canadian).

I thought I had something sorted out; decent price, nice area – but then the roommate guy mentioned that going to church is a part of his Sunday routine. Now I'm sorry, but a young gay guy who goes to church is just weird, and it made me worry about spill-over weirdness into other areas of the living situation. So I kept looking and thought I found something cheap and still in a good neighbourhood and was all set to sign on the dotted line when it was mentioned that access to the first bedroom is only though the second bedroom and constant traipsing through is required. Kind of a deal-breaker (and his picture made him seem a little seedy). So I’m back on the hunt. Grumble.

Any quick and easy hints on how to judge a person in a few short emails? All advice welcome.

...............

Workin' in the Coal Mine

Apologies all for the dearth of posting lately — the blame lies squarely with my work.

Over the past few months, out of a department of eleven people, four have left or changed positions and none of them have been replaced due to budget concerns (which seems strange when said company has billions of dollars in profits, but ours is not to question the logic of the corporate gods). So this fourty percent reduction in staff has meant that the summer, usually a slow season with clients and brokers on vacation, has been rather busy.

Then added on top of that has been the fact that the supervisor has allowed people to take overlapping vacations, so we have even fewer people to do what needs to be done. It's basically call after call after call, without break, for the entire day. Awful! Today and tomorrow, there were only four people in the whole department!

And worse then trying to get stuff done for your previous call while you're on the phone with the subsequent caller and working like a crazy person, is the fact that the supervisor is giving us a hard time about how the stats are bad and we're not meeting our service standards, and we really have to pay attention to how much time we spend on each call, and blah, blah, blah. I just want to scream "That has nothing to do with us! It isn't possible to meet the service standards without enough employees! And even more imposible when the employees we do have are all on vacation at the same time!" (And maybe I want to yell some other things at her too).

I will be so happy to leave there aren't even words.

Whoo-hoo!

I'm about 45 seconds away from handing in my letter of resignation.

Amazing!

Wonderland’s latest attraction

I apologise for the dearth of postification on the blog this past while — I’ve been riding the pre-departure emotional rollercoaster through Anxietyville and Frustrationland with stops at Apprehension-Depression-Confusion, Self-Doubt Junction and Avoidance Square.

After all the problems I had being able to get in touch with anyone in France , I was so excited two Wednesdays ago when I got home and the package was finally sitting in my mailbox. That Kodak moment came to a rapid conclusion when I actually opened the envelope and realised that it contained more problems and no answers. My admissions letter said that I was accepted into the prep year programme (not the Masters programme). Was it a mistake? Was it because my score wasn’t high enough? In typical French fashion there was no explanation and no information given. –And off we go on the emotional rollercoaster… This meant more hair-pulling and 4AM wake-ups to call numbers in France that no one would answer.

The prep year programme adds another year to the whole process, and while three years in Paris might not seem like such a bad thing à la vision of Carrie Bradshaw, it means three more years of not making money and three more years of living away from home (added on to my four years in Tokyo making for a big chunk of time far from family and friends).

Then a few days after that mini-calamity I got my notice of assessment from OSAP. I was granted a wonderful 652$. Gee thanks government of Ontario, what the hell am I supposed to do with that — rent out a post office box and live in there?! How am I meant to finance my higher education if I you haven't given me enough money to even get to the same continent as the school, much less pay for tuition, food, books, rent, insurance, etc?

Problems on top of fiascos on top of crises and I kind of reached a freak-out breaking point. If even one thing, just one, could go right with this whole process I would feel much better about leaving. Instead I'm presented with an endless quagmire of problems sucking me down and am constantly forced to reassess my committment to this whole operation.

—Eventually I was able to get in touch with someone in France by email who confirmed that I was not admitted into the Masters programme — almost no one is. Out of a couple hundred applicants, she said that only four people passed directly into the Masters programme (which is a small comfort, but still leaves me with an extra year away). Rather frustrating to be finding this out just now since it is too late to apply to any Canadian university for the fall. It makes me a year behind anyway you slice it.

So I thought about what to do. And thought and thought and thought. As I turned over every facet and option and obcessed over every detail I came to the realisation that I am sort of on a one-way street at this point. I'm not going to stay at my job a minute longer than I have to, it's too late to apply for school here, and what the hell else am I going to do? –So I guess that means I'm still going and I guess I'm pretty okay about it.

Iceland

Check out this gorgeous Sigur Rós video. It's called Viðrar vel til loftárása (or "Good Weather for Airstrikes" for anyone who didn't pay attention during Icelandic class in high school).

Why is everyone and everything from Iceland so beautiful and weird? Does it have something to do with the fact that there are no trees? Or perhaps a combination of geo-thermal activity and whale consumption which addles the brain? Whatever the reason, all signs say "Get thee to a Björkery!" — I hear Icelandair offers cheap stopovers on its flights from North America to Europe. Maybe I can arrange something when I'm enroute to Paris this fall... (assuming I ever get my school documents sorted out).

And as a sidenote, why are European passport stamps so lame-o and boring? I know most Europeans are too busy smoking cigarettes and getting laid to worry about dull-as-dishwater passport stamps, but really, can't they even pretend like they're trying?

Fretful Frenchie Frustration

After being accepted to school in Paris in May, I was told I would be receiving a information package in the mail in June with all the necessary info about the school and moving to France. So I waited and I waited and I waited (because it's only uprooting my whole life and moving to a different continent, so I'm sure the less time I have, the easier it will be to: find an apartment, buy a plane ticket, arrange my student visa, move my stuff, get insurance, etc.).

Why did I keep waiting so long, you might ask? Why not just send them an email or call the school? Great idea — only they don't answer emails and they only take calls between ten and twelve, Monday, Wednesday and Friday (which is three to five a.m. Toronto time). This Wednesday I decided that I had waited patiently long enough and it was time to suck it up and set my alarm for the evil hours of the morning. Three A.M. shrieks from my alarm clock and I grumble out of bed to call the school. And it rings. And it rings. And it rings and rings and rings and no one answers! I set my alarm for 20 minutes later, half-slept and tried to call again – and again there was no answer! Alarm after alarm, more tossing and turning, and more not-answering-of-the-telephone. So frustrating!

And again this morning; alarms, grumbling, ringing & not-answering! AAAaargh! How does anything ever get done in France!? I should be looking at this experience a kind of birth by fire since I'm going to have to get used to these kind of lovely peculiarities of French living – but still, I need to get this package like, yesterday! I'm giving the school one more chance on Monday before calling in the big guns at the Canadian Embassy in Paris and the French Consulate in Toronto to see if they can help me at all.

Let's all keep our doits croisés for me.

Happy Canada Day!

Yeay Gay!

For all you loyal WTTMB readers who are not (yet) on Facebook, you can still see my photo album from this year’s crazy-fun Pride weekend. Just click here.

(I couldn’t be arsed to upload photos both here and there; Blogspot’s photo features are too cumbersome to do a whole album).

Certainly one of –if not the– best Pride ever! Who knew it was so easy to consume so much alcohol? Yeay Gay!

Tanned

After a few weeks of summertime fun in the sun, I realised that I've become ridiculously tanned. I mean, look at that photo – I think I'm turning Mexican (in lieu of turning Japanese). I have never ever been that tanned in my life! It's rather disconcerting to look in the mirror and see this brown stranger looking back at me. But skin cancer is the new anorexia –it's on all the runways in Milan this year– so it's all good.

Just in time for Pride

Let's have a look at how our Geisha Sistaz are making Nihon a better place, one ramen shop at a time:



Well, that seems perfectly normal, don't you think?

The Curiosity of Chance

I saw this movie as a kind of last minute thing using vouchers I got from volunteering at Inside Out. Funny and smart and definitely the best movies of the festival, I really hope this gets picked up for distribution because it has so much potential.

Taking its cue from The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles and all the other John Hughes 80s teen movies that people love, it has all teased hair and music that made the 80s great, plus drag queens, hot shirtless neighbours, a super-cute lead and sassy Eurotrash accents (the movie is set at an American school in Belgium). What more could you want?

While this film is funny and light-hearted, it's also a headlong look at the unpleasant reality of being gay in high school. Unlike most gay teen movies which deal with coming out, the title character in this movie, Chance, is already out. Way out. With his sexuality already a fait accompli, the movie looks at the bullying, addled parents, jocks and self-doubt that all teen gays spend their formative years dealing with.

Change Belgium for Belleville and Wham! for Nirvana and what you have is a film about an eccentric gay outsider struggling with being gay in high school — i.e. a film about me! It was as though the writer had followed me around Grade 11 and translated my life into a script — The film could have just as easily been called The Curiosity of Tokyo Tintin for how much I felt like I was watching my life. There is even an exact duplicate of a conversation I had with one of my friends. (A: “I don’t know why you put up with the jocks.” Me: “I rise above it and be the better person.”). While the protagonist goes on to face his fears and his bullies in an explosion of glitter and fabulousness, I wish the outcome of my conversation had been more fruitful. I just shirked away from the bullying and built up a wall of defenses (and rather lacked in glitter department I'm afraid). I guess I learned something from it all, but perhaps there was a better lesson I could have taken away from the situation.

I found Curiosity of Chance really empowering and wish I’d had the opportunity to see it when I was young and impressionable. I might have found the confidence to stand up to the myriad of jerks and rednecks who populated my school and achieved my full fablutronic potential at a much younger age. For the sake of all the gay youths out there I hope this film gets picked up for distribution and adopted into the gay cannon post haste (right up there with Rocky Horror and Jem). We'd probably have more happy confident homos with positive outlooks and square heads on their shoulders (and even, perhaps, less dependence on transvestite aliens or hologramme machines — I personally am lost when my Synergy earrings stop working).

Kudos to Russell P. Marleau for writing and directing such an insightful and funny movie (about me). I can't wait to see it in the cinema again!

You can watch the trailer here.

Daniel Craig wants a gay Bond

"Daniel Craig has revealed that he is pressurising producers to include a gay scene in the next James Bond film.

"He says he wants to keep Bond 'unpredictable'...the secret agent..notorious for chasing women....and he wants him to go gay?...

"A film insider said: "Bond will always be a hit with the ladies. But Daniel has a massive gay fan base and that can't be ignored."

(Full story here, and here).

The Moor's Last Sigh

This book was a re-read, so it's not quite the fairest review, but still an amazing book. Five pepperpots out of five for this Rushdie classic. (His best maybe?). Moraes Zogoiby spills his family secrets in fast forward reverse fashion from the Jewish expulsions of Spain and the steamy spicehills of Cochin to the glittering glass of the Bombay highlife.

I've heard through the rumour mill that a film is being made from this book, which has super-high, visually stunning potential. It would be a movie I would love to watch – but it would also be a movie that was about five-hours long. I'm not sure how this could be cut or edited to fit the silver screen, but if they can find a way to make it work, I'd be the first in line to buy my ticket.

North York – North Yuck!

Alternate Title: Suburbs; the Worst of Both Worlds

Almost one year into working in the blanched concrete monotony that is North York, I can truly say that suburbs are my own personal vision of hell. Depressing Stalinist apartment blocks huddled together against the vast anonymous spaces of wasteland. Strip malls and car lanes. Hulking fortresses of big box stores defended by moats of endless parking lots. Isolated people buffered from real human contact by six lanes of traffic and cracked, decaying sidewalks.

I can’t think of a single positive thing to say about suburbs; sprawl destroys farmland and greenspace, makes public transit impossible and forces an even greater dependence on the almighty Mammon of the car. Really, people who live in suburbs are eco-terrorists with their huge carbon footprint, greenhouse-gas cars and pesticide lawns. If were up to me, we’d blow them all up and start all over. (Or conversely, we could build a wall around the suburbs, blow them all up, and then start a specialty channel where we watch the survivors build a new society out of the rubble of Pickering or Thornhill).

In honour of MMC and my Battleship Adventure* to the furthest reaches of North York, the Fairview Mall and to the very end of the pointless Sheppard line, I present to you my North Yuck Photo Essay.

Time Goes By, So Slowly

I can't believe that it's been exactly one year since I've been back in Toronto. Freaky. It makes me uncomforatable to think that it's been that long. Wow.

Survey Says!..

I love being productive at work, filling out email forwarded surveys things. The getting-to-know-you kind of deep and probing insight into the inner workings of my psyche kind of surveys. It's a fun distraction from the otherwise spirit-crushing monotony of the daily grind.

1. What time did you get up this morning?
Seven am to commute for an hour and arrive at work to realise that I didn't start until 11 today. That was a fun realisation for me.

2. Diamonds or pearls?
Can I have Miu Miu instead?

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Tan Lines - An Aussie gay surf teen sex romp. Five wombats out of five for best write-up of the festival. 2½ baby-eating dingos for the somewhat confused/confusing film itself.

4. What is your favourite TV show?
I too don’t watch too much TV these days. Simpsons is of course a classic, but I live for The Amazing Race. God, I would do anything to be on that show — It was literally made for me. Really, the show should be call The Amazing Daniel McKinnon Race!

5. What do you usually have for breakfast?

Always variation on a theme: bagel/english muffin or granola/cereal

6. Favourite Take Away
I have Tokyo to thank for my new-found love of shawarma (Which is sold by Turkish vendor trucks there).

8. What food do you dislike?
I passionately and intensely hate bœuf bourginion. Anything else I dislike pales in comparison to how much I revile that disgusting french beef stew with red wine.

9. What is your favourite CD at the moment?
I don't know about CD, but my favourite song for the past few months has been Joan Baez' "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down."

10. What kind of car do you drive?
When I am king of the universe, I will make private car ownership illegal and replace all roads with train tracks! I hate cars.

11. Favourite sandwich?
I'm generally not a sandwich aficionado, though I guess anything that's made with good crusty french bread is fine.

12. What characteristic do you despise?
Last season’s shoes. Haha, no really I detest conservatism

13. Favourite item of clothing?
Watches. Guys have so few opportunities to accessorise. Also ties, though I'm sad I don’t have the chance to wear them anymore.

14. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation?
I’ll permit myself a list;
North America: Cuba
South America: Brazil (esp Rio)
Europe: Spain
Africa: Morocco
Asia: Bhutan
Oceania: French Polynesia

15. What colour is your bathroom? (Not sure what we're supposed to learn about each other from this question, but I'm sure the CIA has something in mind when they put together these surveys)
White tile with black tile trim and grey walls

16. Favourite brand of clothing?
Paul Smith has a line of street clothes that's available only in japan which I like. D Squared has nice stuff too.

17. Where would you retire to?
Warm places with hot, slutty youths to show an old man a good time (Mérida perhaps?)

18. What was your most memorable birthday?
While there was one birthday we went to a roller-rink in Kingston which was pretty fun, nothing really even comes close to this most recent Tiki Hula Luau. Amazing!

19. What is your favourite ice cream flavour?
Rocky road. Although Baskin Robbins had a flavour in Japan called ‘Box of Chocolates’ that had mini chocolates in it. I would mainline that stuff into an artery if I could.

20. Furthest place you are sending this? (Or in this case, most distant blog reader)
I guess some people in Australia might be reading this.

21. Who do you least expect to send respond to this?
Prince Rainer the III of Monaco

22. Person you expect to send it back first?
People with silly office jobs like me

23. When is your birthday?
January 13

24. Are you a morning person or a night person?
Night person, definitely.

25. What is your shoe size? (Surely the CIA already has this info on file for me – very sloppy to have to ask again)

11

26. Pets?
No

27. Any new and exciting news?
Well, for those of you who've been living under a rock for the last few weeks, I'm moving to gay Paree in the autumn.

28. What did you want to be when you were little?
A flight attendant –No wonder my parents weren’t surprised I was gay!

29. How are you today?
So gay! Thank gawd

30. What is your favourite chocolate?
I love chocolates from a box of chocolates —every one’s a mini-surprise— I don't really have a favourite chocolate bar.

31. What is your favourite flower?
Jasmine. (but not Princess Jasmine from Aladdin –stupid stuck-up bitch)

I wish I knew how to quit you

Introducing a new section for your consideration: Mockback Mountain. I make no qualms about the absurd ridiculousness of the whole thing, but there is just so much material out there, hungry for an outlet.

Here I present to you the first in a series of exercises in preposterousology, Callback On Me Mountain.

For those of you unfamiliar with the classic Eric Prydz Call On Me aerobics video, here is the original version: (Warning may not be suitable for all viewers, young children or nelly queens).



And here Callback Mountain. Enjoy!

As time goes by

It crept up on me without the slightest warning or notice, but my blog celebrated its one-year birthday back on May 3rd. Hard to believe that it’s only been 378 days since this bad boy was born. So much stuff has happened in that time; the highest highs, the Sayonara-Nihon-T.O.-homecoming lows, the extended periods where other priorities have taken centre stage and pushed my cyber-baby into the dusty waiting wings of my mind.

I’d like to take this opportunity for all my loyal readers to have a moment of quiet reflection and think about me and my fabulous blog. What has been your favourite post of the past year? (Personally, I rather like what I had to say in this post and my subsequent comments).

What would you like to see more of? What do you want less of? Advice, praise, admiration, thanks, glory, acclaim, gifts, and even criticism are all welcomely welcome.

Her lovely little lady lumps

Apparently I'm a bit behind the times on this, but I think it's hi-larious, so I'm posting it here anyway.



Dave, Joel; why ya gotta be haters?

Did I Get In?

Is my name on the 'in' list? Oh Gawd the suspense is killing me! I can't look — But I have to! AAaaaagh.

Here we go: L'École supérieure d'interprètes et de traducteurs

ROM crystal; Crystal meth - coincidence? I think not

So I just walked past the ROM construction site where they’ve now begun putting on what I assume to be the final exterior cladding. I am compelled to say that it looks awful. Completely and absolutely terrible. Almost oppressively bad. I would uncategorically file it under eyesore which will spoil Toronto for generations to come.

Way back in the day, when the design competition for the ROM make-over was announced, I happened to got to the museum and saw all the different architects’ briefs and plans. I remember thinking that two of the designs were very aesthetic and well thought out, some were not as good, and then there was Daniel Libeskind’s design, drawn on the back of napkins from the ROM cafeteria. Asinine. How is it possible to judge a multi-million dollar project from a proposal that was submitted in marker, on napkins?! You couldn’t even understand what the design was; much less understand how it was all going to work. It was drawn on the back of a napkin for chrissakes! But I called it right then that Libeskind’s napkin design was going to be chosen because he was the most famous applicant and Toronto’s world class insecurity needs to be fed by celebrity architects and their flash-in-the-pan antics.

After Libeskind's design was chosen, they released this model, which I actually thought was kind of nice in a traditional/post-modern pastiche, deconstructionist kind of way:

But then fast-forward to a few months later when, suddenly, someone points out 'hey, you can't build a museum entirely out of glass.' I might be wrong, but I assumed that an internationally-renowned architect would be smart enough to realise that museums can't be glass because of the non-mixability of ancient artifacts and direct sunlight. So, it's back to the drawing-board for another napkinesque redesign. Then someone pointed out 'hey, this redesign isn't suitable for the climate,' because –surprise– it snows in Toronto. So, time for another redesign. Then another person pointed out that the ROM looks exactly like Libeskind's design for the Denver Art Museum. Time for another, um, redesign, ...oh wait, well... uh, I guess we'll just let that one slide.

This building is lame and the interior design not withstanding, qualifies as a total cock-up. It’s really a shame because this was an opportunity to make something that really added to the character of the city, but instead is a clunky, jagged lump of bland monotony. Mr Libeskind, your ROM redesign is officially “On Notice” and unless you manage to pull something really spectacular out of your ass in the next few months, your unplanned and un-thought-out, napkin-based design is going to be sitting on my “Dead to Me” list for a long, long time.

Thanks for ruining Toronto forever, Napkin-head!

It’s the Final Countdown

Only six days left until admissions results for Paris are posted on the internet. The antici... pa-tion is killing me! I want to know yesterday, and I especially want to know because I don’t have a very satisfactory back-up plan formulated at the moment.

At present, my much less glamorous plan B involves a year-long Masters programme at McGill which, although being shorter, is actually more expensive than Paris (500€×2 years for France versus ±5000$ at McGill). And while I’m sure living in Montreal is nice, it’s certainly not Paris (and winters à la montréalaise suck icy donkey balls). Also McGill– while being the closest programme in Canada to what I want to do – still only focuses on French to English translation and not the other way around, which would definitely be an important skill to have.

I could wait and apply again to Paris next year — but what would I do in the mean time? I certainly can’t stay where I am now. (I'd rather kill myself and everyone around me). I could go to Paris on a working holiday visa in anticipation of getting accepted in 2008, but I feel that’s not really the most responsible life choice. I should be worrying about my career, future, etcetera, and I’m kind of feeling that a year goofing off in Paris is going to get me a whole lotta nuthin’ at this point.

Anyone got any brilliant life counselling advice to impart on me?

Smoking Fish

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Smoking fish are absolutely prohibited from the ground of Tokyo Disneyland. All fish found smoking on the premises will be immediately ejected from the park. No exceptions.

I ♥ Spring!

After having the warming cheer of a beautiful European spring snatched away from me by the cold, calculating voice of the Air Canada pilot who announced “current conditions in Toronto; -2° and light flurries,” I am sooo happy that I was finally able to hang up my winter coat today.

Anyone who doesn’t love spring is clearly a crazy person. It’s all birdsong and daffodils — What’s not to like? Ace of Base may have said that it was a "cruel, cruel summer," but clearly winter is the cruelest season of all. Goodbye evil winter with your windchill factors and seasonal affective disorder. I’m ready to bring in the spring!

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