Counting down the minutes to completion…!

I am approximately 1400 words away from completing my food and development paper, and then my Maymester will be done! And since I am obviously in no hurry to finish those 1400 words quickly (my taxi leaves in 8 hours, the IDS office and the library open in 5 hours…) I thought I’d write a quick reflection on the past week and how things have gone.

Oh, the stress. Paper due on monday (nothing quite like writing about one of your favourite subjects and turning it into something you hate by the end of it… I wrote on El Sistema as a mechanism for influencing subjective well-being…) then final Development as Happiness conference on Tuesday, presentation on Poutine Wednesday morning, Potluck Wednesday midday, Development as Happiness exam Wednesday night, Food and Development paper due … well, in five hours. Maybe six, depending on how long it takes me to create real citations instead of the hastily scribbled down things on my outline. It’s a good thing I learned how to write papers like a BOSS in FYP, otherwise this whole writing things hours before the deadline would never turn out well. All that’s missing is Emma and a late night pizza/ice cream order/something we can’t eat but will anyways. Is that nostalgic Samie missing her roommate & first year a bit? A little.

seven bowls of pho broth, one week left!

oh love, it’s been a good week. Fairly unproductive in terms of school work, all things considered, but it has been a good week. I’m currently eating a daikon and napa cabbage stir fry with rice made from the pho broth I made yesterday.. so much flavour! It’s pretty magical.

I’m officially completely moved into my apartment! hanging out in limbo was fun, but it feels like I’ve been living here forever already. I’m actually quite fond of my room, which is nice. Originally it was kind of touch-and-go, but as soon as I set up my furniture, lamps and stuff… it was home. I think part of it is my sheets. I still really love the duvet cover I bought with Em last summer. It’s summery. :] Also, there’s so much natural light in here during the day, which is fantastic. Whenever I get around to it, I’ll take some pictures. And after I clean up… I took a nap this afternoon, and then put all my clothes and stuff on my bed… see, home already. bed is turned into a closet.

two weeks in, two weeks out & Amani.

This post is two fold. I want to write a little about an assignment I was given from my Development and Happiness class, but also mark the midpoint of this month. It’s crazy to believe that the equivalent of two months in class have already zoomed by, and that there’s only two weeks left. I’ve only got five Food and Development classes left, and six Development and Happiness ones. Things are moving quickly, and two weeks from now I’ll be half an hour from landing in Frankfurt, Germany. Hello, pretzels and beer at 6am?

But the discretionary assignment. The assignment is to submit something (article, video, thing) which creatively advances the topic of the class. So I’ve been thinking since May 7 about this, because there are a lot of interesting ideas that can spring forth from this assignment. I probably should have spent more of that time thinking about my papers, but this was more interesting. I went through different ideas of things that make me happy (food, books, music) and how those were happiness related to development. I mean, I could have found a book and given it to him. Or searched all over the internet for an interesting article. But if you’ve been paying attention to anything I’ve said on facebook or this blog in the past few days, my mind has sort of settled on music. Why? Because some of the times I have felt the most fulfilled, the most happy, have been when I have been around music. And particularly choral music.

So I sort of wracked my brains for a way to give the gift of music. It’s difficult, in a way. To truly give the gift of music, that other person has to be able to share in it in a very profound way that I’ve always felt is limited by the musician-audience relationship. But since I can’t teach my professor how to sing with me in four days, I have the next best thing. Someone sharing their music and world with me.

Last summer, I volunteered with the Coastal Sound International Music Festival, and have said again and again that it was a profound and immersive experience. For the first time in my life, I was at a music festival where I wasn’t a participant — I was someone who helped enable three hundred children to share the gift of music. One of the songs they sang as a massed choir was Amani (A song for peace) by Jim Papoulis. I first heard the host choir sing it when they were welcoming another choir off the buses on the first day of the festival. The song became an anthem for the children, sung all the time between rehearsals, concerts and meals.

It seemed like an excellent song for an international festival which had hosted choirs from all over the world. I’ve included the translation for the piece, as it is sung in French and Swahili, and attached the performance from the final concert here.

Amani (A Song of Peace) – Notes from the composer
“Amani” translates to peace in the Swahili language. Swahili is spoken in the Congo, Africa, where my mother was born and raised. Growing up there informed my mother’s entire life, which naturally impacted my childhood, weaving its stories, sounds and rhythms into my music. Peace is what we all need for a better world. “Amani” is a contribution for our deepest desire: peace and joy for a better world.

French
Chante chante forte, pour la liberte — Sing strongly for peace
Chante pour la paix pour tout le monde — Sing for peace throughout the world

Swahili
Imbene wote n’sauti moja, — With one voice, we all sing
amani — together, peace

extra, extra, read all about it… but more like extracurricular

I really miss singing. I miss singing all the time. I’m seriously considering joining a choir in the fall, but that means auditions. and better time management. Frankly, I’m more worried about the audition than the time management, even though I know the latter is way more likely to be an issue.

I don’t audition well. Mostly because the thought of someone judging me on my singing makes me feel, y’know, wholly inadequate. Not that I’m not confident in how well I sing, but just arghhhh.

Also choosing songs stresses me out. I have one classical piece chosen, but I have no idea what I’m going to do for my second piece. It has to be an a capella, jazz/pop/folk piece. There’s a lot of range there. I just don’t know what will show off my voice the best. It’s been about four years since I did any solo jazz work, and Crossett was probably right when he said I wasn’t quite cut out for it.

(There’s also the whole issue of running tournaments on weekends and four-and-a-half hour rehearsals on Sundays and power weekends and blagh.)

The choir I’m thinking of auditioning for is the Xara Camereta Young Women’s Choir.

But also I haven’t done any real singing in about two years. Perhaps a vocal coach will help me prepare for an audition. Or maybe I’m just in over my head and I shouldn’t be trying to do too much next year. But missing music. gah.

thoughts to think about… but also start getting my stuff together.

Happy Mother’s Day

I have lots of feelings about Mother’s Day, and mothers in general. Mine has been such a huge influence on my life (just over twenty years of influence now!) and has very much helped shaped the person I am today.

As I was scrubbing underneath the stove elements today, washing dishes that had been made dirtier by the dishwasher and in general getting up to my elbows in dirt that I was trying to clean, I pondered a life of doing this over and over again, for a very long time. Cleaning up after my own kids. My fingers are near wrinkly from the amount of water I used, though I guess I could have used gloves. It’s hard work being a mother. Mine got up early in the morning to make me breakfast a lot of days, drove me to school and every other extracurricular I felt like testing out, cleaned up after me, cooked for me and so many other things. Indulged in the odd shopping spree, held my hand and bought me a gamecube that one time after I cut open my lip and lay screaming in a doctor’s office, getting one itsy bitsy stitch, picked me up from school all those times I was sick and cleaned me up after particularly nasty boughts of stomach flu. So many more things I’m forgetting, I’m sure.

It’s odd now that I’m doing all my own chores (mostly) without her reminding me to, and living far away from home — I find myself missing having a mother around all the time.

And then I think about all the wonderful people I know who were raised by their loving mothers. I kind of want to call them all and say thank you, you know? They’re not my mother, but they were somebody’s mother, and I know a lot of wonderful people whom I’m sure have wonderful mothers. I know a lot of my friend’s mothers, and sometimes I have to wonder how they put up with their children. I wonder how my mother put up with me. How did she? I have gone through some of the most obnoxious phases in my life where I don’t think I could put up with me. My mother must love me a lot.

Richa texted me yesterday, saying she was getting all emotional about Mother’s Day cards. I think I’m all choked up right now just thinking about my mom, so I totally see how that can happen. It’s too bad that as a child, it was really difficult to know about all the awesome things my mother did for me and my sisters, that I probably don’t even know or think about.

So Mommy, I hope you have an excellent day today, and that Claudia and Faye are good during brunch later. I love you a lot, and thanks for being the best example of a strong woman, a loving mother and one of my best friends now. <3

End week one, begin weekend one. #20

I think this week felt like the longest and the shortest week I’ve had in a long while. I know, it’s technically not over — but it is. I’ve been to eight three hour classes, the equivalent of one month of two courses and I’ve found that I actually enjoy the pace of quick summer classes a lot better. I think part of it is how awesome all my classmates are — truly there to engage with the material and the discussion, play devil’s advocate a lot and contest some of the ideas presented. Also, we spend three hours a day, every day, together and have sort of gotten to know each other’s perspectives well. I think I’ll enjoy the next two and a half weeks.

Three weeks from now, I’m going to be in Lyon, France. And then Valencia, España. Is that weird? I’ve been counting down since 111 days ago, when there were 131 days to go. It seemed like forever. I’m super excited. SUPER EXCITED! Yes, that’s more like it. I’m not entirely sure what we’re going to do there (eat a lot and spend a lot of time cuddling, but as for Lyon and Valencia themselves… I mean, it’s entirely possible that we could be headed to desert and I would probably be as excited to see Lars at this point.) Well. Paella. That’s the one thing I refuse to come back from this trip not having eaten. The rest of it is mostly up for debate.

I’m such a food addict. Good thing? Bad thing? Sometimes I feel guilty about it, especially studying as much about food as I do in class these days. Food security’s a big deal, and it’s difficult to know facts that aren’t coloured by either side of a polarized debate. But also just deliciousness.

Development as Happiness: thoughts on that second bit

So I’ve been assigned a ‘coffee’ assignment. Basically I’m supposed to get a mug of my favourite hot drink, and write for as long as it takes me to either drink that drink or until it gets cold. About development as happiness.

Seems legitimate.

instinct, intuition, impulse?

Sun is setting. Blogging twice in a row? What is this. Shenanigans, I say. cats or something. reowrrr.

I’m not really in the mood to actually be blogging. I don’t know why I started this one? I’m just kind of meh and meh.

I’m really tempted to just go to sleep now.

I’ve done a lot of impulsive things in my life. I don’t remember them all. There was this one time, I bought a pair of shoes and then fifteen minutes later, I walked back into the store and returned them because I didn’t like them enough to spend $50 on them. Emma and I went to Montreal last summer on impulse. Bought a dress there on impulse. Rationalized it to myself, but really the rationale was “I feel really pretty in this dress, and I might need a dress in the near future.” I have yet to wear it except to feel pretty.

I’ve also done some things on intuition, or instinct. I don’t know if those two are the same thing, but mostly it’s that feeling where you’re like “I don’t know why, or how, or who said it, but I’m going to have to do this”. Or maybe just the instinct that says somewhere along the line of making this choice, you will regret it if you don’t do this now.

Do you ever wonder what would happen if you didn’t do it? I do. All the time. Like that one late night car ride that convinced me to make a phone call and then jump into things that I just wasn’t ready for. It was a good car ride. A terrible phone call. But I had to do it right then. As soon as possible. I couldn’t wait for February, because by then, the chance would have come and gone.

None of this means anything, really. I’m just tired. I really miss Lars. (if you’re reading this babe, I love you <3) And mostly wondering if my impulse buy today was a good buy. It wasn't a bad buy. Only I think my blackberry feels a little betrayed.

And this is how I feel after almost every impulsive decision I make. I spend some time wondering if it was the right now, and very often it is. Sometimes it isn't. But then, I guess that's just how things are.

I want to go to sleep now, but I'm afraid that I'll wake up even earlier tomorrow. That's okay, I guess. I have to get up early for Monday. Class then.

Last side note: Yesterday, after writing yesterday's blog post, I went to read through my latest journal from the beginning. This is the longest it has ever taken me to get through a journal, and I'm only halfway through it. I should just write more there, and maybe blog less. Or just do more of both. Or write that silly novel I'm trying to write and stop just writing about passing emotions. Anyways, it amazes me how different I was a year and a half ago. But also, just the same Samie as ever. I don't think the questions I ask myself are ever answered. It's strange, how I can see my own handwriting get shakier as the words I put down become more uncertain, or the feelings they try to portray more like earthquakes beneath the surface.

I'm trying to find a Vienna Teng song to explain my mood right now, but I don't know what that mood is. I think mostly, I'd just like someone to sing me a lullaby. No one's ever done that, and it seems like something that would be nice when you get scared of thunderstorms.

writing our own endings

Sometimes I wonder if I existed in the Divine Comedy, would I be in limbo? Sure feels like I’m there now. Mostly because I’m hanging between so many things. Waiting for classes to start, waiting to leave on vacation, waiting to actually move into my apartment. Finished two years of university, between jobs (that is with the expectation that I will get another job in the future…), somewhere on the cusp between childhood and adulthood. Sort of a place I never expected to be, with the confidence I’ve tried to instil in myself. Maybe a fake confidence, but fake it ’til you make it?

I’m almost certain I’d be somewhere in the lower circles of hell, but it sure feels like limbo right now. I start classes on Monday, and it seems like no matter how little time I have between semesters, I’m always excited for a new start. There’s something about a fresh beginning, the chance to “start all over” that is very alluring, despite the fact that it will never be a chance to start all over.

I thought that university would be that chance. Two years ago, a little naive girl though that moving halfway across the country, not knowing anyone in the city, would be a chance to reinvent herself. In reality, that chance only turned out to amplify who I already was. (Sorry for the switching persons… bad writing habits, I know.) The past two years have refocused and magnified habits I already have, and somehow my actions feel as though they carry more and more weight every day. It makes sense. With every passing day, any action I take is one less action I will eventually take. Kind of like a grain of sand falling in an hourglass. I almost said timeturner, but those aren’t real. I don’t think I’d want one even if it was real, because I think the reality is that if I had the chance to know who I would become, I wouldn’t be able to make myself any different. Any serious attempt to reinvent myself would be incredibly fake. Phony, Holden Caulfield would call me. Because the way I see things will always be through that same lens of beliefs that I think I’ve always had, and however flawed it may be, I’d still end up being me. What use then is trying to change the past? I could try for all the world to be different, but I’d hope that I’d still be myself.

only a quasi-junkie, but a junkie nonetheless

Summer seems to turn me into a mindless drone, willing to waste away for a quick fix.

Of fiction, don’t get me wrong. I think I’ve read about twelve novels in the past three days… they’re like cheap shots of heroin, with no value whatsoever and just a feel-good while you’re doing it. Afterwards, you feel kind of like something trampled you with an elephant herd, and you need another one.

It’s a really good thing I don’t do drugs, or I’d be screwed over if I gave into that addiction the same way I give into buying books. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the value of a library card until now, when I have a bunch of useless novels I don’t need in the slightest.

So that’s what I’ve been doing in my entirely free summer. Reading lots, all of it designed for brain atrophy. I don’t know how I’m going to go back to school in two weeks.

On the bright side, I move in 8 days, which means I should really get my shit together and pack properly. There are still tons of things on my desk which need to be put away, and we haven’t even begun to pack away the kitchen yet. I think I’m slightly afraid of our kitchen, and the power it has over us. It’s just …there’s so much stuff. Not even just cutlery, but we have a popcorn maker and a salad spinner, a waffle maker and two rice cookers and a bread maker… toaster, microwave and enough tea making devices for a party of too many.

I’m mostly blogging so I can distract myself from buying another damned novel. I need to find a way to not pay for these things… why do I love easy-to-read fiction? why couldn’t I just be so desperately in love with reading Spenser’s Faerie Queen, the monstrously sized book I currently have on my bookshelf? or find immense joy and adrenaline in Milton’s Paradise Lost? Come on, Samie… I even have an anthology of Borges’ short stories, which I actually do enjoy reading. Just not when I can lose myself in the silly, predictable plots of romance novels with a happily ever after and a duke or two.

That reminds me, all you readers out there. Any advice on how to wade into A Game of Thrones? I’ve got the first book here, but I don’t know how to approach it. I just hope it lives up to all the expectation I’ve been building up to it… Also, hoping that I’ll actually like it, because then I can watch the TV show, and the photosets from the TV show look awesome.

Oh, oh. I’ve just found a site that will give me free access to all a fiction junkie needs. Goddamnit.

Well, I’ll see you on the other side with all the other junkies and addicts. Ta-ta for now, I must be off to satisfy a craving.