Rants & Roars
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| Tiger Bean Rants & Roars |
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Tuesday, August 02, 2005 Amber I can refrain no longer. Despite the age-old mantra that "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all," I just can't resist ranting and roaring about the summer coop student in our department. She inspires a complicated emotional reaction from me: sympathy and curiousity tinged with disgust. Let us call her Amber. Amber has not had an easy life. Here are a few of the things that have gone wrong for our poor soul: 1. Poverty. Amber has literally pulled herself out of the gutter. Before going back to school and trying to turn her life around, Amber was homeless. Her son--born when she was just 17--was delivered literally on a street corner. 2. Dead boyfriend. Did you perhaps happen to see a picture a few weeks ago on the cover The Herald lamenting over the untimely death of her "fella" from a methadone overdose? That was our Amber. 3. Drug and alcohol problems. Amber confided to me that after her fella died she went to school drunk for an entire semester. Also, judging from the amount of patchouli she douses on herself, Amber does not pass on grass. Or, it could be she's trying to disguise the fact that she rarely bathes. Pass on the patchouli Amber and hop in the shower. I know, I know, Amber hasn't had it easy. Poverty and the death of a loved one are hard blows indeed. But she's gone back to school, she landed a well-paying summer job at a reputable company, things are turning around for her, right? Then why does she show up to work between 10 and 11 am? Why does she just not even bother to come in one or two days a week? Why is she unable to complete the minor tasks we give her (and they're getting more and more minor)? Why did she decide to just not ship a couple boxes of books to Fort McMurray the other day, which resulted in me having to drive the boxes to the airport myself at midnight after receiving a frantic call from my boss? She is a complicatd one that Amber and I fear her life, yet again, may be on the verge of another downward spiral. That, ladies and gentelmen, is our coop student. I've never experienced anyone quite like her. posted by Cherine | 5:10 PM The Incredibly Shrinking Blog (and I'm not referring to my posting frequency) I don't understand it, but apparently I can no longer bold, italicize or hyperlink any of the text I write on this blog. Why oh why has Blogger taken this small luxury away from me? The basic hosting amenities this site offers are getting pretty slim indeed. I may have to start looking elsewhere for a fatter, more generous host. The day is coming when Blogger unilaterally decides to present my blog in MS DOS compatible with Commodore 64s only. That should assure me a vast and dedicated following. posted by Cherine | 4:57 PM Tuesday, July 26, 2005 The Reading Life Lately I've been suffering from literary malnourishment--not just from a lack of time to fit reading into my life, but also from a lack of reading titles that leave me feeling fulfilled. While fictional fill-ups on Never Let Me Go and Devil in the White City have been more than worthwhile; they are balanced against A Complicated Kindness and The Piano Teacher, two recent reads that left me bored senseless. Despite my recent disappointing setbacks on the literary highway, onward down the road I travel. And toward that end, I've registered for "Communication and the Novel", a five-day intensive course put on by the UofC's Communications Department that runs the first week of September. There's advance reading, of course. Lots of it as it turns out. Somehow I must find time to digest nine novels by September 6th--that's 42 days from now (yes, I am counting). The days of malnourishment, apparently, are over. My reading list includes: - The Trial, Franz Kafka - The Stranger, Albert Camus - 1984, George Orwell - Being There, Gerry Kosinski - Blindness, Jose Saramago - Reading Lolita in Tehran, Azar Nifisi - Sunday at the Pool in Kigali, Gil Courtmanche - Crabwalk, Gunther Grass - Atonement, Ian McEwan - The Citizen's Voice, Michael Keren The careful reader will note that there are actually 10 books on the list. Thankfully, I've already read Atonement, lowering my total to nine. Can she read nine books in 42 days? Will her want for the written word be requited at last? Stay tuned for updates. To be gobbled up first: Reading Lolita in Tehran. posted by Cherine | 2:58 PM Monday, July 18, 2005 Saving for Someday Breathed some life into an under-used ING account lately. The reason? Been feeling like work, life, etc. has become one big grind and I'm just barely making it through. So in the event that I just wake up one morning, say fuck it all to hell, and pull a Marcel Proust and deign never to rise up from bed again, I am going to need a source of income. My account has a whopping $1,300 in it. Enough money to last me the rest of my life, until I decide to buy something. For a little while longer at least I'm going to have to keep toiling away. Still, my tiny sum does perk me up a bit and remind me that one day hopefully I'll be able to walk away from the rat race. posted by Cherine | 4:16 PM Tuesday, March 08, 2005 How to kill an hour at the office.  Wednesday, December 29, 2004 Scrimped and saved all year. Full of pride at Christmas-time as my Dad opens his card. Inside, a cheque for $2,500--the last of what I owe him for the 1994 Jeep Grand Cherokee that he sold to me three years ago. Finally, this debt paid off. A relief for both of us. Company for dinner tonight. Jeff Boyce, a business partner of my father's. "Wow, that stock of yours really did well," my sister says to Jeff. "Yeah," he replies. "A good year." "My husband and I bought our new car [a 2004 Jeep] off of the proceeds," she says. "A gift from my Dad, those stock." As they all raise a glass and toast this profitable year, they don't see me hastily slink away. A social faux pas to silently disappear like this. But I'm so helplessly shattered by this brand new car my sister and brother-in-law casually bought, when I sacrificed and did without for so long to pay back my own 10 year-old piece of shit from my father. Who says that every family doesn't have its favourites?? posted by Cherine | 9:34 PM Friday, December 03, 2004 Gifts Last night, from him, a toothbrush, also a poem with the double entendre title "Oral Hi-Jinx". posted by Cherine | 9:59 AM Tuesday, November 30, 2004 Ice "What's wrong?" he inquires. "Headache," I groan. "Advil?" "Sorry, only Aspirin. I can go buy you some." We're at his house. It's three o'clock in the morning. "God no! I'll survive." "Hold on, I have an idea." The sound of him rising from the bed. Footsteps going away then coming back. A harsh crunching sound in his mouth. Suddenly, lips on my forehead. Water running down my face. A numbing sensation all over. Ice. Strangely erotic. As a painkiller though, completely ineffective. We laugh as I turn and reach towards him. Later, in the shower, blood all over me. He stumbles with the curtain, lauches himself out of the water cupping his dripping nose. "A consequence of the drinking life," he tells me later. "My blood has thinned." Something crashes inside me. Foreboding replaces elation. posted by Cherine | 4:17 PM |
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