Let it snow...

So, interesting. Very, very interesting. On Monday, I stepped out to go and catch my bus to school, and almost froze my non-existent balls off. Then, Tuesday, I bundle up, prepare myself for the worst, and head out. It's a tiny bit warmer, but there are these mysterious wee flakes of something whipping around in the wind. What are these small bits of flotsom? I ponder the conundrum, scratching my head frequently. Suddenly it comes to me.



FREAKING SNOW!



Yes, boys and girls, it is snowing in St.John's! There were flurries all day, and finally, when the sun set and it got dark and cold enough, the snow stuck. I couldn't believe it, and yet I've been expecting it for a month.



I mean, September and October were beautiful! It got up to 26 degrees the day before Halloween. And now, my beautiful-almost-B.C.-but-not-B.C. weather is gone. B.C. has left the building when Newfoundland decided to show up after all.



Humph.



Once again, I am amazed at the bizarre toad's-wild-ride driving skills of the St.John's Metrobus company. Today, as I was hurtled homeward, I was actually catapulted from my seat into a near standing position as the bus lurched around a corner at 400 miles per hour. It was only the extreme tension I placed on my outside calf that kept me in my seat. I have to make sure that I change sides on the bus regularly in order to prevent one leg developing huge, knotty calf muscles while the other becomes a weak atrophied thing. Then I'd be forced to concentrate when I walk or end up circling myself like a desperate wagon train.



And the level of conversation and weirdness on these bus routes is never-ending. On the wonderful below 0 Monday, it was nice to get on the heated bus when it finally arrived. But let me tell you, I didn't enjoy it half as much as the old geezer in the back.



"Boy, this bus is some warm!" "I tells ya, this bus is sure nice and warm." "It sure is nice to get on a bus that's nice and warm when it's cold out." "Ah, buddy, this bus is some nice warm."

This litany continued until I got off at my stop, and I assume it continued till he got home to the Mrs. and said:

"Ah honey, that bus I was on today was some warm."



There's also a mentally challenged little pervert who always seems to be going home the same time I am. He's a bizarre little man who finds the most attractive girl on the bus and then proceeds to tell her "cute" little stories and hug and try to kiss her. Everyone just laughs it off, but it actually gives me the creeps. I never thought being somewhat unattractive would ever be such a boon, but so far I've escaped his notice. Except once, when he was making reference to "big girls being good in the sack" and he winked at me. Buddy better keep his hugs and kisses to himself--I have no qualms about poking a mentally challenged pervert in the eye. A pervert's a pervert in my books.



(I bet a lot of you are writing that bit of wisdom in your journals and diaries.)



I'm slowly getting more organized. Still no luck finding a job--even though St.John's is peppered with my resumes and applications. It's very frustrating, and a little scary, but I'm surviving. Besides, as a "big girl" I can live on my own body fat for quite a while! I just hope we don't get snowed in and some of the other people on my floor get the same idea. I'll have to start spreading rumours about how tasty the elderly can be with the right spices.



Halloween was a sad bust. I spent it pleasantly enough, I hung out with one of the ladies on my floor and we watched scary movies. But I wanted to go to some of the St.John's Halloween festivities. There is a huge 3-day Mardi Gras, lots of haunted houses, a haunted hike (ok, we all know I wasn't going on that one!), all kinds of cool stuff. And I stayed home. The one thing Newfoundland constantly teaches me--I can get lamer. I thought I was pretty lame back home, but I've reached new heights in the East. I have followed the dimly-lit star, and found that it was only a street lamp.



Tomorrow is Guy Fawlkes night. There should be lots of bonfires and wildness for me not to attend. It is interesting that they actually celebrate it here though, being a mainly British institution. (C.R. will kindly note this as it is mentioned in Georgia Nichols.) We also get St.Patrick's day off, too. I'll bet that little pervert on the bus wears a shirt that says "Kiss me I'm Irish" and then enforces it!



Anyways, must get to bed so I can doze in all my classes tomorrow.



Yours always,

V.F.

Lucky 13!

So, Halloween is only two days off. Am I excited...yes. Do I have any reason to be excited...yes. Does that reason have anything to do with eating Halloween candy and getting a sugar high...definitely!



Ok, so I have a lot of little things I could do, and none of them appeal to me. I could go downtown and check out the "mardi gras" that is held here on George St. (street of bars and pubs...and I'm assuming vomit as well), but all of the people I've met are going with groups of people that are as yet unknown to me, and that's not so good. I could always go by myself and check out the costumes, grab a coffee (or beer) or whatever, but that just sounds scary. And of course I'd never go off and do anything scary by myself. Ahem. I could watch horror movies with some people in the building. But it's kinda looking like even the elderly have plans. I could study and actually use my time productively...ok, you in the corner-stop laughing! (Oh great, now I'm seeing people in the corner...)



Ah, I'll figure it out. Things would be easier to decide if I wasn't so damnably broke! So far no one has responded to my battery of resume's and applications. Very frustrating! Don't these people understand that they are getting in the way of true genius! I mean, by helping to forward me, they would only be forwarding their own best interests. It makes sense, right?

Hmmm, it could be that they don't understand the magnitude of what has landed among them. Must eat more chocolate.



Must press...er... im press upon them the importance of aiding me in whatever way they can. Must also stop pretending to be an evil genius as there is no way to truly convince anyone that I am all that evil, or anything close to genius.



Ooook, I think it's time to sign off for another night.



And a quick shout out to N.M. and C.R., both of whom put me in my place about daylight savings time, and telling me that I did not actually lose an hour, but rather gained one. Thank you, and can I interest you in a rasberry :-P



Love to all who deserve love, and spanks to all the rest.



V.V.V.V.F.

(Va Va Voom Venus Fangs)

Homesickness Settles In

So, I'm a little homesick. Ok, I'm a lot homesick. Alright, alright, don't twist my arms--I'm so homesick I feel like mailing myself home. And yet...I wonder if I'm not doing the ol'bait and switch, self-sabatoge, I-don't-wanna-do-homework-no-more blues song that signifies nothing more than laziness and an inclination to "screw the pooch"!!



I mean, the fall colours here are breathtaking, the people are wonderful, the air is clean, blah blah blah freaking blah. I think I need a good coffee that isn't attached to Tim Hortons. Or I need to see some good ol'fashioned drag queens walking around. Or I need to go to a concert, or something.



I think my morning bus driver is causing all this angst. They have radio's on the bus here, and as you're driving around, they play one station or the other. All well and good if it's music you can tolerate, or if it's played at a decent level. However, at 7:10am, it is often not my favourite thing to be sitting on a bus listening to Queen played at ear-splitting volumes. I think it's a vain attempt to "wake us up." Sicko's. Now, the bus driver in question does not play the local oldies station, the local new music station, or any other local station of tolerable music. No, he plays the local elevator music station. I've never heard so many Casio organs, electic "beat" sounds or " Moon River " lyrics in my life. I mean, this is some old school stuff-often strident, seldom good. I love old jazz, lounge, blues. But this is a funk I can't describe-I mean it ain't even my mutha's music, know what I mean??



Hearing that first thing in the morning is bound to dampen even the most troopier trooper-isn't it?



And a sidenote-da mens are gettin' on my nerves. I'm wondering if there is a man alive out there who can talk reasonable about problems and not get wigged out. "Oh, ah, jeez, I don't know, I'm not one for giving advice, you might want to ask one of your, y'know, girlfriends about that one. Yeesh, wow, yeah, phew, really don't know..."Aaaaaargh! (Then again, most of my friends get on my nerves with advice because they PERSIST IN USING THAT DEMON SPAWNED LOGIC AND COMMON SENSE!!!)



By the way, since I'm on a rant, I hate the lottery because I do not win it.



Wow, ok, online diaries are good things. I feel like I've opened a window and all the clothes-eating moths have flown away, and wonderful fresh air is taking their place. And the knowledge that I have tainted those few (very few admittedly) loyal readers with my angst and negativity has let me know that pain shared is less pain for me to deal with!! Aaaah.



We also set our clocks back this weekend. So poor Venus loses another precious hour to da man! Blast! I could care less about coming home with the sun, I don't want to get up at 5:30 every morning. And I'm one of those poor literal bastards who can never for get that 7 was once 8 (or, that 7-8-9, ha ha), and live for the next several months waiting to get my time back. Time. Stupid relevance.



Well, tonight it TV night for me. I've worked out a sweet deal with one of my wonderful ladies from the floor (Shout out to da ladies from da floor!!)--(I know, I really have to stop....) and on Thursdays I go to her place and watch a little boob tube. I tell ya, I am a TV generation gal, and this is a little bit of sanity in my sea of weirdness. Yep, TV has made me the success I am today...ahem.



Well, I'm off like pants in the dark.



V.F.



PS-any comments on this journal would be appreciated-and if you have any comments to make, or questions you want answered, I'll put it in here. Also, if you know anyone who might find this funny-by god, pass it on!



Sheesh!

6 days after my brothers birthday...

So, another week in the East has come and gone. Weather is still incredibly nice, although today it is raining and windy and generally gross. Weather is a huge topic of conversation in Newfoundland. You can experience 6 different weather patterns in a day here, so I suppose it makes sense to discuss it. It's a conversation that never gets boring. Unless you're from B.C.

My last midterm is tomorrow morning. Which is, of course, why I'm writing

this...procrastination at it's best! I've started counting crows. No, not the band, but the custom of counting crows that you see. It's a part of the folklore here, and it has a little rhyme:



One for sorrow, Two for mirthThree for marriage, Four for birthFive for laughing, Six for cryingSeven for sickness, Eight for dyingNine for silver, Ten for goldEleven a secret that will never be told.



It's very cool, and odd, and now I can't stop doing it. Thankfully, I've mostly seen either 2, or 5 crows. People here also "cross crows out," which is a kind of evil eye thing. They put two fingers together like a cross, and put it between the crow and them, thus-crossing out the bad luck the crow might bring. Not everyone does this of course, but a fair number of people do.



I now have a borrowed couch, and I can't tell you what a difference it makes to have actual furniture in your place. It makes me feel like more of a resident, and less of a squatter.

Thanksgiving was an interesting affair. I had dinner with an elderly couple and another woman in the building. I brought potatoes!!! (Yeah, whoopee) I have tried salt meat, and can't say that it will be a regular part of my diet in the future. It's freaking salty!!! And everyone thought I was on crack for thinking so, even though it's called "salt" meat!! There was also peas pudding. This wonderful concoction is basically yellow peas, cooked to sludge in a bag that's placed in boiling water, and then squeezed and mashed. It's very, very gross, especially for a poor picky eater like myself. But there was turkey, and gravy, and pie and it was wonderful to have a nice meal with new friends.



This is a rather short and pathetic entry, but I am studying here, people!! I'm not at your every beck and call, every wave and whim! Sheesh.



Anyway, as always, more to come.



V.F.

Just another day...

Well, another day, another penny! It's been an eventful couple of weeks (har har) and I am once again feeling the need to share.



Was sick as a dog for a week, and am just now getting over it. There was some kind of freak flu going around St.John's, and it just wouldn't be me if I didn't catch it. Always one to follow the crowd! Yes indeed-why, if everyone started choking down small rodents like snakes (of which there are none in Newfoundland...)(snakes, that is...), and filling their pants with chocolate ice-cream before leaving the house, I'd be the sweetest-legged hamster-gorger around!! Alright, sarcasm aside, these Easterners contaminated me with germs, and I was dying a slow death on my birthday.



Yah! Birthday came and went. I am now 32, and once again the age seems to fit like a glove. It's strange how every year the age I turn seems to be the one right for me. I truly like my 30's. Not too old, not too young, juuuuust right. Although right for what exactly remains to be seen. Such is the lot of the late bloomer! You get into your 30's and wonder, what the crap am I doing?? How the crap have I survived this long?? And why the crap hasn't any of my friends said "What the hell are you doing with you life already?" instead of just letting me embarrass myself-like a zipper that's been undone the entire day you wear your Underdog Underoo's?? (Those of you who know Underdog, Underoo's, or the more conventional Mighty Mouse are at least as old as me!!!) So, how did I celebrate this momentous occasion? I sat around in my underwear, blew huge (and I mean huge!) amounts of snot into vast (and I man vast!) amounts of tissue, drank copious amounts of tea, and had one small cry. Sweet, sweet birthday bliss!



Actually, my neighbours dropped by with prezzies and cake. And I received a few birthday parcels, many wonderful birthday phone calls, and was able to have a truly valid excuse to catch up on much needed sleep. All in all, not bad.



University seems to be going alright. Or "going" at any rate. I seem to have slipped, ever so slowly tumbling, gently falling, leaning, leaning, into the deep well of procrastination. Again! I'm not too far behind, but it really does cause some trepidation to think that I have fairly easy courses and just can't get my work done. What will happen when I get to actual 3rd and 4th year courses? Or, dear Lord, grad school???



(Those who have noted that I am writing a long entry in a web diary about procrastination in order to actually procrastinate- give yourself a cookie.) Well, I suppose there's nothing quite like crushing failure, followed by mind-blowing debt, to spice things up a bit. [note: save just enough money for plane ticket to Cuba and "streetwalker" outfit for a "graduation present" to myself]

I seem to be fairly happy, despite occasional outbursts of homesickness, and really love the concepts of Folklore! I'm waiting to get into some really juicy stuff, which I don't think is going to happen this semester. But, as they say, you have to learn to roll before you slither, so I'm getting the basics under my rolls and mushing on.



Thank all the gods for October! It's one of my favourite months, so I should get more work done. It's a month long creep-fest, preparations for Halloween and El Dia de los Muertos, cooler weather (I hope!!), and a day off school (thanksgiving). Plus, my little webmaster/brother's birthday! He's getting old, too! Hooray!



Well, peace out and pip pip, and all that rot.



V.F.

9/11 (2003)

Well, Hello again m'loves! And how are you all doing?? Hope none of you are feeling crooked or sooky or anything!



*crooked: feeling crabby and childish. Ie: I already brought up one box from the car and no one appreciated it, and if anyone wants to get more boxes they can get them for themselves, cause no one appreciates me anyway, and I never wanted to bring the damn boxes up anyhow!



*sooky: Newfoundlander version of "sucky." Ie: chicken: cuddly; weepy; if I can't do it I don't want anyone to either.



Yep, I'm learning the lingo already! (Why those two words in particular I can't explain...)

So, school is well and truly started. All classes are going well, and I can actually navigate my way around this place. The Memorial tunnel system is interesting, though why someone would pay to have a slick, shiny coating on top of cement (nice for slipping on during rainy days, nice hard impact!) is beyond me.Professors are quite good, and I have a lovely (we'll see) job at the library.



Yep, I'm working in the Collections department of the campus library, and so far it's fairly fun and interesting. I'm just doing data entry and some searches on line and through the stacks, but it's not bad. The man whose department I'm in (History, Economics, Political Science) is a bit of a fuss-pot, and I can never work more than 10 hours/week, and never make more than $6/hour, but that's the only drawbacks. I'll just have to get another part time job and I should survive the winter. (Thank god I'm built for inclement weather!)



I'm meeting some interesting folks here, and it's wonderful hearing all the different accents. There are people at Memorial from all over the island, and the world. Every part of Newfoundland has different intonations and sounds and words and phrases. Very neato!

I have a couple of bits of Newfoundland wisdom for you all:



"Laziness ain't worth a fuck unless it's well tended." (Meaning: if you haven't done enough work to lay something by, you don't have time to sit around and reap your rewards)



"They're as thick as shit in a jug." (Meaning: NF version of "thick as thieves"--don't ask)



Well, that's all for now. I'm still sending this out from the wonderful campus computer lab, but my home 'net should be up soon!!! We are on Newfoundland time after all...



And hey, let's hear from you sorry MoFo's!! I have very little email or mail coming my way...(lazy bastards!)



Ciao,VF

Class-Ick

God, how I miss that wonderful smile of recognition as you walk into a classroom and have the relief of seeing someone you know-can sit with-can talk to. For me, for now, it's just a smile of acknowledgement--yes, we've met eyes and the polite thing to do is smile and nod, or smile and mouth-without making actual sound-the word "hello" or "hi." And attempting to make conversation in these embryonic stages is a lesson in futility at best! (What a nice collegiate sentence!!) You ask about classes: do you have this textbook or that, have you had the prof. before, is this you major. Words trickle and fade and whisper out of existence, and silence just settles in again, except for those people who know each other and are enjoying the thrill of speech.



Bloody hell! Don't let me have to make a speech in front of this class of strangers! The professor hasn't even walked in the door and I'm strangling with fear over a presentation I don't even know if I have to give or not.



And I only have to go through this madness another three times today. I wonder if my poor heart will stand it?



(You can tell I'm nervous...I'm waxing poetic!)



Later:Thank all the gods and goddesses that have ever existed in the universe!! I do not have to give one presentation this semester!!!!



Now-for those of you smug pusses who perhaps don't like giving presentation, but still-like the brave little soldiers you are-get up there and muster up the courage to go for it: Fuck You! I'm not trying to be rude, but there is just something about presentations-at least as a student giving one-that are so bloody awful they make me want to retch and die! If I was a teacher in front of a class, an actor in front of an audience, or even an interviewee in front of a panel of interviewers (all of which I've been before, so I speak that which I know) I would find it easier to cope with.



But ye gods and little fishes! Those dull, vacant, zombie-like stares, glazed eyes, slack jaws, professor in the corner furiously taking notes as you speak, the horrible dawning realization that you don't really know what the hell you're talking about----the horror, the horror.

Yes, I know I have to get used to it sometime, but not now. New place, new culture, new school, new everything!! At least give me a semester, people! (Ha ha ha, as if that would actually help my speech phobia!!)



All my classes went well, with the exception of the first one. I had worked myself into such a lather that I ended up running out of class as the prof. lectured to run to the bathroom! How sad is that?? I certainly hope this will not be a regular occurrence. I spoke to the prof. later though, and we actually had a rather nice chat. I think he will fast become one of my faves, and I hope like hell I left a better impression with him than the one of me darting past him as he lectured!

And one last thing for this entry: this school was built in 1962 and looks it! I'm sitting in seats that are actually attached to the desk tops (and we're not talking lecture theatre here, just regular classroom desks). And I swear that someone has most definitely killed themselves in each of the bathrooms! (Not the same person, of course. A different person for each W.C.) I'll definitely send pics soon.



Well kids, I'm out of here. German homework awaits and I plan to use the facilities before class to try and save myself a bit of panic!!



The horror, the horror....