LFar Blog

The Shins- Saint Simon

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Thu, 25 Feb 2010 03:37:00 +0000

Back in my day, ipods were for Richies, so we listened to CDs on CD players. I like to listen to music, but I only had 3 CDs (until mix-CDs became cool in grade 12) but until then it was: The Shins- Chutes Too Narrow, The Strokes- Reptilia, and the soundtrack to the musical Wicked.

Needless to say, this song carries a lot of memories of studying things like trigonometry proofs, convex/concave mirrors, world religions, and Jane Eyre.

My dad bought me this album for my 17th birthday.

Grade 11 was a good year.

Wisdom Tooth Recovery

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 03:17:00 +0000

I got my WT removed last Wednesday. One side of my mouth has been bothering me more than the other, so I did some research (thanks, Internet!) and decided it looked EXACTLY like dry socket, minus the searing pain.

I called my dentist, and he said it was probably infected, so I should GO IN TODAY. My dentist is 1.5 hours away from my school, but fine, I went. Turns out, its just some food stuck deep down in the pit. The pit. My mouth has a pit. He gave me a curved syringe with which to shoot water down the hole, so I can get food out.

Let me tell you something. The pit is big. I just dug my dinner out: 2 whole pieces and 7 half pieces of basmati rice. Plus some bread and lettuce I guess I missed during my post-lunch clean out. Things just kept coming out! It’s like a clown car in there!

And that concludes today’s TMI broadcast.

Book Review: One for the Money

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 16:54:00 +0000

I am a girl who loves girl detectives.

My favourite books growing up were Nancy Drews, and my all-time favourite TV show is Veronica Mars. I enjoyed Alias, but I tend to enjoy shows with a plural number of female characters better.A long time ago, a friend gave me the first book in Janet Evanovich's Stephanie Plum books. I had started it, but then I went to Kenya and forgot about it until recently. I just read it in February and IT WAS GOOD. Girl detectives (well, Stephanie is a bounty hunter) always seem to be very smart with a dash of sass, and Stephanie Plum is no exception. She narrates the stories which means every page is a chuckle.

There are about 10 more books in the series; I'm reading the second one now. They are very breezey, light reads, and since they've been out for a while, I'm sure you could get a copy at your local library easily! Go try out the first one, "One for the Money" today!

(Wow, that ended sounding like a commercial, so I promise you that I am in no way involved with this author or publisher or somehow getting paid for this)

Feeling bad for feeling bad

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Wed, 03 Feb 2010 04:56:00 +0000

Sometimes it's really tough not to dwell on the guilt of certain privileges.

You know, like clicking the "make payment" button to send off 5K for tuition. Mostly I just want to groan about how much money that is, and how long it took to make it or, in more recent school terms, how long it's going to take me to pay back that loan. It pains me to part with that money! But then cry-me-a-river-Lisa comes in being all "oh poor you, you get to go to an incredibly good school to get a top notch education and you have the means to pay for it, and the ability to work for it, or a government that loans you money interest-free. Poor you, indeed."

Or when I tore my ACL, I had a really rough period of self-pity. Why my knee? I'm physically active and now I can't do all the things I love to do, and I lose so much fitness, and I have to be more careful with my knee from now until forever. Poor me! But then get-your-head-on-straight-Lisa steps in with a, "oh really? Because last time I checked you got top notch medical treatment and physiotherapy for that injury. And plus you can still walk and you'll run just fine eventually. Think of all the people with way worse pains, injuries, and disabilities."

It's a circle of feeling bad for feeling bad.

We all WhiteWine sometimes. But just because something is a "first world problem" (Dooce's term), that doesn't make it still not annoying. It's just hard to justify complaining about things when you realize how great it is to even have those problems.

Here are some of my favourite posts on the WhiteWine site:

If another rice cake crumbles right out of the package, SO HELP ME.

I still don’t believe you can’t watch full episodes of The Big Bang Theory online. Dive into the 21st century, CBS.

The Fresh Direct server is moving SO slowly. At this rate it’s going to take me all night to order my groceries.

Where is the quality control on the foil lids for Yoplait? I hate when there is no tab to pull and I have to pick at the edge to get it off.

Can’t they just make ski boots that are easier to walk in?

Why can’t Blackberry have an “ampersand” symbol? I am sick of typing “and” all the time.

Anyway, where this is coming from is I just had to call home and ask for $40 because my bank account is a little short to make rent this month, because my student loans haven't come in. I have a hunker of a cheque waiting to be deposited, but it was mailed to my permanent address, not my school address. I had to call my dad asking for the loan, and it's just so embarrassing. You lose all of your independence and maturity! BUT! How ridiculously lucky am I to have parents who can just wire me money within the hour? I already owe them many thousands of dollars which have been loaned interest free. Uggghh.

I just hate feeling bad for feeling bad.

Celebrity Doppelganger Week

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Mon, 01 Feb 2010 03:12:00 +0000

So apparently its celebrity doppelganger week on facebook?

Here comes a brief tour of celebrities I have been told I look like. The tour starts with baby Olsen twins. Back in the Full House days, I apparently looked very much like a baby Olsen. This is not news, since all babies look the same, pretty much? But me more so than usual, I guess. To be clear, the similarities ended after age 18 months.

My little brother tells me repeatedly that I look like the girl in Nancy Drew. Sure, but not really. He sees it, though.

At camp one summer, this magazine seemed to float around. There was just one copy that we found in a cabin when we moved into camp, but somehow it ended up in the dining hall, near the pool, and everywhere else. Three different people told me I looked like Blake Lively. I think it’s just the small eyes in this photo, because never before and never again have people seen any similarities between us.

Finally, when the Golden Compass came out, people told me I look like this girl. The scowl certainly helps, and we're practically twins:

And that concludes the tour.

The future isn't for another few years

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Mon, 25 Jan 2010 04:30:00 +0000

“The textbook comes with a floppy disk,” said the professor.

The class erupted in laughter. What an absurd statement, they seemed to think in unison. For of course, such a statement has not been accurate to say since half the student’s lives ago. Imagine a $200 textbook coming with a floppy disk! The poor professor had already lost the respect of his students. What an out of date man! Was the textbook also written on stone tablets? Please.

The students then purchased the textbooks and saw that the professor was right. Their new $200 textbooks indeed came with a floppy disk. They searched far and wide across the land to find any computer that could read the disk. No such computer exists.

How useless!

The Internet Loves Harder

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Wed, 20 Jan 2010 17:00:00 +0000

You may remember my blogfriend Brandy. Well, she is every blogger's blog friend! And so the internet got together and sung her a song. I cringe at my part, but everybody else is great! Here is the video:

Oreo and the kittens

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Fri, 08 Jan 2010 04:15:00 +0000

A few months ago my family decided to take in a pregnant foster cat from our local animal shelter. They try to find homes, or at least temporary homes, for cats when they are pregnant so that the kittens will be handled a lot and have more freedom. We got a lovely cat named Oreo. That name is a bad choice, so I call her Ori. Ori is a skinny little cat. They think she's about one and a half years old. I think she's a beaut.Ori had four kittens, but one died when it was a day old. My mom woke up one morning to find the last born lying dead in the corner of the kitten box, so she put it in a shoe box for a burial later. Ori cried and cried all day until my mom realized she was worried about her fourth kitten. My mom showed Ori the dead kitten in the box. Ori sniffed and licked it a bit, and then stopped crying and walked away.That might be on the saddest animal stories I've ever heard, but at least all three other kittens are fine!Each of my siblings gave the kittens a different set of names, so my mom settled it by just calling them Blacky, Whitey, and Smokey. I didn't meet the kittens or Ori until I went home for a visit when the kittens were a week old. Have you ever seen kittens that little? They just lie on their giant bellies, trying to use their legs to push them in the direction they want to go. Their eyes can't open yet, so they have a call and response of meowing with their mom when they are hungry and trying to find her. After double checking that safe search was on, I did some internet research to find out the difference between male and female cats. It was quite easy, then, to tell that Blacky was a girl and the other two were boys.The next time I came home the cats were 8 weeks old and just about ready to go back to the shelter to get adopted. But the shelter had no room! So we got to keep the kittens a whole extra week over Christmas. I stayed up until 2am every night playing with them. I love them all so much. Blacky slept one whole night in my bed. She also peed in my bed, but I forgave her on account of ADORABLE.The shelter was having a cat sale ($40 instead of $100) so cages were opening up. We brought the kittens in, and they were adopted by the next day. Of course! Because who doesn't want a sweetheart of a kitten? I was really impressed with the shelter. It was very clean and didn't smell like animal poop at all! All the animals seemed very well cared for. They had about 15 cats, with room for about 30. They only had 3 dogs, with room for 16. But they were all soooooo cute. My youngest brother bonded with a hound named Charlie. He cried about how much he loved Charlie the whole car ride home. It makes me kind of sad to think of people paying huge money to breeders to get a purebred puppy when there are beautiful and sweet dogs waiting for a good home already.Anyway, cats are adorable! Go adopt one today!

A message from a blogfriend

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Mon, 28 Dec 2009 14:00:00 +0000

Today's message comes from a very good friend of mine. She asked me to post this, and of course I am doing so. Brandy is one of the best things blogging has introduced me to, so check out her and blog and read her post, below.

My name is brandy. And I have a blog.

And a plea.

I use my blog to showcase the crazy I meet everyday, share the stories of the kids I teach and document my love for tequila, dairy products and the abdominal muscles of Ryan Reynolds. Rarely do I talk about personal issues on my blog- as personal as the dude that I adore (who I actually met through my blog- single ladies, let that be a very good reason to blog, the possibility of meeting someone as wonderful as my man), but I need your help. And it involves my dude.

He's a guy who made math comics for my class, so they would love learning about addition. He's the kinda guy who sends my friends gift cards when they are having hard times, who remembers every story I ever told him, who was the first person I celebrated with when I got a teaching job. He's the guy who sent flowers to me at school- dozens of my favourite pink roses just because he loves me. He's a guy who has spent a year patiently explaining (and re-explaining) everything there is to know about football during the important games when silence is preferred. He's made me word puzzles and comics and stayed up late playing Scrabble with me (even though I beat him almost every time). He's listened to me cry about school and family and jobs. He is everything I never knew I needed and everything I always knew I wanted.

The holidays have hit us hard. He's recently been told he may have something called multiple myeloma- an incurable cancer, that gives a person an average of five years of continued life. Though this news has came as a shock, he continues to be exactly who has always been- spending his time worrying about me, rather than worrying about himself. He's the most selfless individual I know- (he stayed late on Christmas Eve to work, so his co-workers could leave early) and a post like this would never be something that he would promote or encourage but when I'm overwhelmed and feeling helpless, the blogging community has always given me tremendous support and comfort, two things I desperately need at this time.

As I write this, the future is uncertain and we aren't sure what's happening. He'll need to see an oncologist soon, to verify what's going on in his body. My hope is that everyone who reads this think positive thoughts and if you are a person who prays, could you add him to your list? (You can refer to him as 'brandy's hot awesome dude'). If you don't pray, please keep him in your heart.This cancer is only a possibility and I believe that the prayers and positive thoughts of people can make sure it never becomes a reality.

I want to give a big thank you to the blog owner who scraped their original blog plans and graciously put this up. My goal is to get as many people as possible to see and read this post. If you are reading this and want to help, copy and paste my plea into your blog or send a link through twitter, so more people can keep him in their thoughts. I would be so very grateful (even more grateful than I am to my friend who first showed me the picture of Ryan Reynolds on the cover of Entertainment Weekly. If you haven't seen it, google it. You. Are. Welcome).

I realize this all sounds dramatic, a Lifetime movie in the making- but this is life. Right now. And I'm throwing away any hint of ego and am humbly asking for you to pray or think kind thoughts. If you are able to pass this on, thank you and if you know anything regarding MM- please email me (my email is on my blog). This isn't a call for sympathy or a plea for pity. It's just one girl hoping you can think positive thoughts for the person she adores. If my current heartache provides you with anything, let it be with the reminder that life is short, love is unbending and no one knows what could happen next. Maybe it is silly, but I really do believe that positive thoughts can make a huge difference. Thank you for reading this and if you haven't already? Please tell someone you love them today.

I did.

How the LSAT went

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Thu, 10 Dec 2009 04:28:00 +0000

Last Friday, the night before the LSAT, I realized you couldn't write with mechanical pencils. They had a whole slew of strict rules (like everything you carry in has to fit within a 1-gallon plastic bag, and you can't keep food or drink on your desk during the test. Not even water!). So I freaked out, because who has pencils that need sharpening?

I eventually found some novelty pencils. One that had pi written on it, and these bad boys:I sharpened them with a sharpener usually on reserve for eyeliner. Yes, they are A Series of Unfortunate Events pencils.

The test started at 8:30am last Saturday morning. What? I usually wake up an hour after that. It was certainly my earliest morning of the term. I left my house around 8, and got to the testing centre at 8:15. I feel really lucky that I go to a school that host a sitting of the test. Some people had come in from Guelph. I also feel really lucky that UWaterloo's testing site is really nice: a big room for only 24 people, each with a very spacious desk and ergonomic chair. I've heard of other testing centres with people squished in, using those desks that are right- or left-handed. You know those ones? Awful.

Half an hour of instructions on how to write out name on the top of the answer sheet. GOOD LORD. Eventually we start. The next part gets boring if you don't know anything about the LSAT, so just skip over till the end, I guess.

Games are my best section BY FAR. I very much enjoy writing them. Reading comprehension goes okay, but I have trouble keeping my focus. Reasoning is my worst, stresses me out, and makes me angry. In the first half of the test I had two reasonings and a games, so I figured that reasoning would be my experimental. Not so. The second half started with another reasoning, and then I was just pooped. I wish my experimental was games- it would have left me energized. Instead, I was really tired going into reading comprehension, and I miscalculated how much time I had for each passage. So I was stuck with two whole passages in about 15 minutes at the end. I hope I did good speed reading, but I might have done terribly on this section.

For non-LSAT people: basically the first half went well, and the second half went poorly. I get me results in about 2 and a half weeks now. I have a score that I really hope I got, then a score I'll be happy with. SIGH. I hate waiting.

Frenetic

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Thu, 26 Nov 2009 18:46:00 +0000

The end of the school term is quickly approaching, which means in addition to exams in a few weeks, I have final projects and assignments due every other day. Since all tasks are priority one, I'm living in a "WHAT IS DUE TOMORROW?" mode that is very stressful. Even when I have time to get 8 hours of sleep, I'm so stressed out that I just lie awake in my bed for hours.

Being this stressed out and tired means I'm constantly eating, and constantly about to burst into tears. For example, I read a really cute lovey blog post yesterday, and started crying. I discovered a mouldy clementine in my box of clementines, and started crying. I got a midterm back this week that I didn't do very well on, so today when I went to talk to my prof I had one goal: don't cry.

It was one of those exams where there were lots of "define and give an example of" questions that I love. I love making up examples! Often on non-math exams I get really bored (I'm talking about things I already know! Snore!) so I keep myself entertained by making up hilarious examples. The main feedback my prof gave me was, "you have so much creative energy, but your thinking process seems... frenetic." And while I KNOW this, I know I have trouble focussing and concentrating on one task, it still was like, I HAVE A FLAWWWWW. And for some reason I'm having trouble holding it together about that.

The prof was an incredibly nice guy, and met with me for over an hour. Imagine! He was obvious that he wants me to do well on the final, but how am I supposed to do that if I'm frenetic, hmm? I have a huge assignment due at midnight for that class. So. I should probably go do that. But still, GIANT SIGH.

On blogging with your real name

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Thu, 12 Nov 2009 04:42:00 +0000

I really left the blogging grid for three months this summer while I was in Africa, and I've been having a hard time returning. Part of this is because I wanted to debrief on my experience in private, and part of it is because I was travelling for about a month upon my return back to North America. But largely this is because of an influx in links to this site that cite my full real name.

I've never been shy about my full real name in emailing or otherwise communicating with readers and fellow bloggers. I think I'm shying away from all the people I know vaguely in real life, or people who know me but I don't know them, or people who want to hire me, and etc. Like I'm sure classmates with whom I've never conversed might have found this. Or former co-workers, or even students I've taught. Anybody that googles my name will be easily linked to this blog. Maybe I'm flattering myself by thinking that anybody would even google me. But still. Yeh know?

And the real problem with this isn't so much privacy as it is consistency. Anybody can be honest anonymously. To be honest with your real name? A lot harder. We all have certain groups of people that we act differently around. Like I don't swear in front of my family. I'm not as politically-minded in front of engineering classmates. I'm more professional around co-workers. I'm more confrontational with group x, and more willing to make terrible jokes around group y. And etc.

I don't think that by admitting to have facets to my personality, that I admit to being two-faced. Or six-faced. I think it's common to be slightly different around different people. And so to blog with your real name is to amalgamate all these personae into one package, your blog persona. Every person I've ever met has the potential to read this blog, and thus it's critical as a non-anomyous blogger to assume full responsibility for everything that I post here. It's kind of overwhelming!

So I've really got two options.

1. Ask anybody linking to me to not use my real name. But I don't want this. No closets for this blogger!

2. Be more responsible for my content. This will involve going back through my archives and deleting anything that I can think of even one person I know who would be hurt if they read it. Future content will be harder to come up with, I guess. But that's the challenge of blogging with your real name!

In conclusion, never let somebody tell you that anonymous bloggers are more honest. Never believe that.

Rejection letter

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Mon, 09 Nov 2009 21:50:00 +0000

Thank you for your interest in [-------].

We have received a remarkable number of applications. We know that there is no possible way to evaluate a “whole person” just by reviewing a cover letter and resume and we realize you have many great attributes to offer and a bright future ahead. As much as we’d like to follow up with every talented and dedicated candidate such as you, we can accept only a limited number of applicants. At this time we’re sorry to say that we are not able to invite you for further consideration.

We really do wish you the best of luck in your future pursuits and endeavors, and hope you will continue to consider a career in urban education.

Sincerely,
[------]

What? Man! The worst! I applied for this practically volunteer job and I don't even make it to round 1 of interviews!

I used to think the courtesy interview was the worst. I'm a female in a male dominated field, so I often apply to intern/co-op jobs and get the interview because they wanted to interview a female. I get there, and five minutes in it's pretty clear to everybody that they have no interest in actually hiring me. Annoying. But not the worst.

I was really leaning on this position in making my future "take a year off, then go back to school" plans. What a bummer! And also, I hit that resume out of the park. Nothin' but net with my cover letter. Whatever. They're missing out.

(I say whatever, but we all know I'm going to fester with this for a few months and maybe forever.)

I'm a betting girl, I guess

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Mon, 26 Oct 2009 22:05:00 +0000

Other than some family trips to Reno and Vegas, I've only been to a casino once. I didn't spend a cent, and I just left feeling depressed with humanity.

But that's because organized gambling is BORING. I like under-the-table bets, whispered during class:

"That's not a correct usage of the phrase 'begging the question.'"
"Yes it is."
"5 bucks says its not."

I like pompous challenge bets, yelled while standing on a chair, swearing. I like bets with dangerous consequences, or based on trivial pieces of trivia. I like bets where the winner gets money, a favour, food, or just gloating privileges.

My favourite running joke in How I Met Your Mother is the one about slap bets. I like slap bets because if everybody's poor, you can't take each other's money. But slapping is free. Slap bets get paid, you know?

At Oktoberfest a few weeks ago, I made a bet with a male friend to see who could flirt out way into somebody giving us their Oktoberfest hat. Most people were wearing one, and my friend and I felt left out. Neither of us made any effort at all to flirt with the drunkies on the polka-floor (psh, what? No, that was not effort. That was joke effort. I wasn't trying for real. Please.) but a few "Let the games begin!" were dropped. It wasn't about the win, but about the fun of challenging.

Today I made a bet with a New Best Friend on who could make a certain prof laugh first. We met in this class, and we're both always bored. So when the prof asks questions, we try to give hilarious answers. To win the bet, one must say something that receives 3 laughs (ha-ha-ha). Three distinct sounds. We haven't decided on the winner's bounty quite yet. I love bets.

Options Schmoptions

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Thu, 15 Oct 2009 21:35:00 +0000

Sometimes I wish I had fewer options. Maybe if I had a dream from when I was little, like being an astronaut, then it would be easier to plan my life. I could just use this handy flow chart:
And all life's problems would be solved.

My issue is that I don't know what I want to do, and I have way-too-many-million options. Such options include: go to law school, go to masters in policy, try a parliamentary internship, get a one-year BA (i.e., stall), or live in a box.

These options then have subset follow-up questions. I have this really smug little person sitting in my brain that punches every decision in the face. "Oh yeah? You're leaning toward a masters in public policy? Well, what school? What country? What country do you want to work in? Do you need to take and standardized tests for that? How many years do you want your program to be? What kind of course work? A focus on qualitative or quantitative? Are you interested in policy or legislature? Don't know the difference? Then don't make a decision until you've done your research, missy!"

Then I sulk for a bit. Play a bit of spider solitaire. You know.

Alternatively, instead of focusing on how bad all my decisions might be, I imagine all the fun times they each might lead to. Some of these options would allow me to live in Ottawa! And I'd see one of my favourite aunts all the time! One of these options would allow me to take a million (read: 15) courses that I've always wanted to take, but couldn't, because the engineering accreditation board is mean! So much possibility!

I'm sorry this blog has turned into "OMG MY LIFE" except for that I'm not sorry at all. I hate making major decisions! I'm in a tough spot!

Choosing 4B year courses

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Fri, 09 Oct 2009 01:22:00 +0000

So, enrolment for next term opens next week. This means I have but several days to decide on 5 technical electives (TE) and one complimentary studies elective (CSE) (that is, non-engineering).

Now the problem is that a bunch of mechanical profs seem to have gone on sabbatical this year, leaving us with hardly any technical electives from which to choose! By hardly any, I mean 13. But we have to choose 5! And more than 8 are awful! And two that I want to take overlap each other!

This is how I make my course selections. I choose a course with an interesting sound name, and then:

(click to enlarge)

So far it looks like I'll be taking Energy Transfer in Buildings, Combustion, Turbo Machines, Biomechanics, Gender Issues, and then I just need one more TE.

Lookin' forward! (ish.)

GPOYW

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Thu, 24 Sep 2009 03:37:00 +0000

Cross posted from my tumblr.

GPOYW: height order on the beach. The usual.

This is just the oldest 5 of the 9 kids in my family. I am the blondie, the 4th oldest. One of my mom's favourite things in the world is to make us line up in height order on the beach or on a bridge.

It used to be age order, but that doesn't work anymore. #4 and #5 are now taller than #3, and #6 is a boy who is taller than all of us.

Senior year! Senior year!

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Tue, 22 Sep 2009 03:36:00 +0000

At the end of a break, I always look forward to going back to school. I like school, for the most part. When people have asked me if I'm excited to graduate this spring, I say kind of, but I really wouldn't mind if my undergraduate degree were a 6 year program rather than 5. Things are going well for me here. Life is pretty darn okay, you know?

I expected that sentiment to carry over in my last-time moments. Like, "aww, this is my last back to school season" and "aww, this is the last work report I'll ever do." YEAH, NOT SO MUCH. I'm only a week into this term, and I'm ready to strangle all textbooks. I've had an eye twitch since last week. I am ultra stressed out already, and I would like to graduate tomorrow, please.

That said, fourth year has brought some pretty sweet perks. For example, in engineering we have study rooms for each program. The mechanical study room is up several flights of very narrow stairs where you think you can't possibly be headed to anything but a murder room, and then there is a door with a lock. You have to know the passcode to enter. IT'S PRETTY MUCH THE GRYFFINDOR COMMON ROOM. I'm considering putting a picture of the Fat Lady on the door.

That time I snuck into Law School

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 01:22:00 +0000

While in New York City last week, I decided to do some site seeing while the friend I was staying with (hi, Bri!) was at work. Of course, since I lived in NY for 8 months, site seeing in the usual sense has no interest. Like the Empire State Building or whatever? Not my cup of tea.

So I toured law schools. I first headed up to [redacted, because I've decided I don't want to use real university names] and went to the admissions office for the self-guided tour brochure. It was a pretty cool guide, and the buildings were all really impressive. At one point, a class was released right as I was passing the classroom, and a bunch of law students came out carrying their huge textbooks and talking about law-y things. Considering that I am in my 5th year of undergrad, and therefore probably the same age as most of these people, it was ridiculous that I just kind of hunched in the corner and looked on in awe. As an engineer in an engineering school, I'm kind of a big fish, you know? I feel silly now with how nervous I felt then.

Then I head down to [redacted, other law school]. There is security at the entrance to all buildings, so I got some stamp from the visitors centre and took another self-guided tour brochure. This guide was not as helpful as [law school #1]'s, and I got a little lost. I was in a law building (and since they check ID at the door, it was only full of law students) and I heard voices at the end of a hall. In a room, there was some sort of club fair, where all the student clubs had set up information booths to recruit students.

It is not a stretch to say that I have a history of assuming a false identity to sneak around schools. I guess I really COULD have meandered the displays without pretending to be a first year. But the tables all had food. And I hadn't eaten lunch. I decided that in order for it to be acceptable to take the goodies at each booth, I should probably talk with the people to make myself seem legitimately interested in signing up for the club. Makes total sense.

So I went from table to table, chatting it up with the person staffing the display, taking a treat, and moving on. But then, at the Chinese Students Association, they handed me the sign up sheet so they could email me about an upcoming meeting. I started to write my real name, but then realized I didn't want my inbox to be full of club meeting information for the next year. So I wrote Lisa [redacting the last name I used], and gave them some sort of email address about that.

The ploy worked, but I felt a little awkward about the blantant lie. But then I was like, "this is totally going to make a good blog post" and so I continued on, signing up as Lisa [redacted] whenever necessary. Investigatory Journalism, right? One sign up sheet had a column labelled Year. I would have written 2009 or something, but I looked at the names above mine and saw they had all written 1L. Okay, so I did the same. And poor Lisa [redacted] signed up for everything from Youth & Criminal Justice Society to OUTLaw (a club for GLBT law students), from the Jewish Students Association to the Society for Women of Colour.

Then I reached the [law school name] Adventurers. So interesting! I stayed a while, asking a few questions. What a cool club! I would have signed up for real, had I been an actual student! Then she asked me to sign up. I was the first name at the top of a new sheet. One of the columns asked for my student number. Oh no. I don't even know how many digits it is supposed to be. I muttered something like, "yeah... I totally will, um, a bit later on." Then I grabbed my one last treat and dashed for the door before anyone caught on.

And that is my first law school experience!

Omega Conference

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Fri, 11 Sep 2009 21:18:00 +0000

I'm at the Omega Women & Power conference for the weekend. We met up at the Port Authority bus station in NYC to take a bus out to Rhinebeck where the conference is located. It was the best 2 hour bus ride I've ever been on. I guess I know a few feminists here and there, but it was very cool to be a bus full of them. (We're all poor 20-somethings who got the full scholarship to be able to afford coming here)

Tonight's opening remarks will be by Gloria Steinem! We were joking about her on the bus, thinking she might pull a Willy Wonka and walk out with a cane... then break out a somersault! Also, Jessica Valenti and the feministing crew will be here. I'm very excited.

Well, everybody else has gone to check out their rooms, and then its dinner time, so I guess I better not miss out!

Bike Maintenance

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Tue, 08 Sep 2009 22:52:00 +0000

I have this thing that makes me feel really insecure whenever I go to a bike shop for maintenance.

As soon as they start talking about rotors, and cold-working, and torque, I have this overwhelming urge to prove that I understand what they're talking about. Because I do! I am one year away from being a mechanical engineer! So I ask overly detailed questions (today, "would the number of arms in the rotor affect the heat resistance of my brakes?) and nod, looking pensive, at the answers.

There really is just a lot of cool science in bike maintenance. I legitimately wish I knew more, so at least some of my interest in what they're telling me is sincere. But mostly I can't wait until I get my iron ring so I can subtly flash it. I've already practised signing my name with my adorned pinky finger prominently displayed.

It's so strange, though. When I ask the guy at Best Buy for helping purchasing a printer, I have no urge to let him know that I knooooow things. When I try on running shoes and the girl instructs me on Gait 101 I don't need to interject with the full rundown of my podiatric experience. But let's get real here: one time I even purposely wore an engineering t-shirt when dropping off my bike. WHO DOES THAT.

I guess maybe I don't want them to give me just the basics. I don't want him to say "you should buy this chain because it is stronger and won't rust as easily." I want the full low down! I've always been jealous of the people who know so much bike stuff. I couldn't even change my own wheel until last year! But are there bike maintenance classes? I should sign up.

Anyway, on that note, if you're from the GTA you should shop at Gears. When you buy a bike there, you get life-time free tune-ups, including free wheel truing. And they are charging me $56 for a job that a different bike store told me would cost $220. (I am not in any way getting paid for this message. They just really are the best. And they have an in-store dog!)

Thing to Remember: I actually don't hate weddings

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Mon, 31 Aug 2009 19:27:00 +0000

It is easy to convince oneself that weddings are the worst. Even the mildest of cynics, with little effort, can roll their eyes and mutter something about social constructs or commercialism. I'm not a fan of tradition and ceremony in the first place, but when the pomp is accompanied by a nimiety of what I believe are misogynistic symbolisms, then ceremony becomes even less tolerable. Right?

Not so much, it turns out. I think it's time to realize that I actually love weddings. To hate weddings would certainly be to fall in line with a few of my other beliefs. But it's like I'm trying to generalize myself! You have to admit though, that a lot of wedding traditions are pretty non-feminist. Why do only girls mark themselves as taken with an engagement ring? Why often is it only the female that walks down the aisle, as the groom waits up front? And don't even get me started on, "Who presents this woman?"

I guess it's a choice. Do you want to view a wedding as what it historically was meant to be: the changing of hands? A bride now belongs to her husband instead of her father? OR do you want to view it as a celebration of how much two people love each other?

I was at a wedding this weekend. And it was just lovely. It's just a party! A celebratory acknowledgement of a terrific relationship! Weddings are just full of happiness and sincerity. I love them! I need to stop telling myself I don't love them, because I DO!

I know that if I ever decide to have a wedding, that I will analyze the heck out of every single tradition. And there are totally alternatives! At my sister's wedding, she and her husband were both walked down the aisle with both of their parents. A male friend of mine is engaged, and he wears an engagement ring as well. I think for myself, that I'll skip the actual ceremony and just have a super casual reception/party.

Anyway, my point is that I'm going to start making an effort to get better at giving myself permission to change my mind about stuff. Today is the official change in opinion regarding weddings: they are the best.

Bloggers IRL

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Tue, 11 Aug 2009 19:42:00 +0000

Until this weekend, I had only met 2 bloggers in real life (Stephanie and Ruby). That's crazy! Only 2? I read several hundred. That's crazy, too!

This weekend I've met 7 Chicago bloggers and they are all fantastic. Some are bloggers that I have never read before, and some are bloggers who are long time favourites. We totally geek out and talk about a lot of Innernet things, and really? It's just so much fun. Talking about blogging with bloggers really adds a new dimension to the blogosphere. I feel like I understand blog world from a new perspective.

The thing about bloggers is that we are friends out of choice. I mean, you HAVE to be nice to your neighbour or co-worker or whatever, right? But bloggers are all there, hanging out, because we're legit interested in each other. I'm in email, phone, or instant messenger communication with at least 30 bloggers, and I would classify each and every one of them as Nicest Person Ever. I just love the blogosphere.

At the end of September, we're planning the first official 20SB Toronto Meetup. I'm hoping that at least 20 people will show up. Exciting! If you're from Toronto, join us!

Family Bowling

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Mon, 10 Aug 2009 20:00:00 +0000

My family just likes to bowl. We have an annual bowling tournament with all my extended cousins, with a trophy and everything. When people come home for Christmas and stuff, we go bowling. Last weekend, I was home for a while between my arrival home from Kenya, and my departure off to Chicago. So we went bowling.

It was just the 6 youngest kids and my dad. We were promised donuts if the 6 of us collectively scored 700. This was 5 pin bowl, so the max score per person is 450. So it shouldn't have been so hard to each get about 117 points, right?

Each round, we had a target score. Round 1: 12 points. Round 2: you should now be up to about 24. Round 3: hit 36! If anybody was less than the target ,we called them a borrower, and if they were over target, we called them a lender. Jack and Rob, the two youngest, were the only lenders for the first half of the game. There was hardly anybody else in the alley, and we REALLY wanted donuts, so we started cheering a lot.

It was looking grim after 5 rounds, with a collective score of only 320. AND WE WERE PLAYING WITH BUMPERS. After a really bad turn, my sister yelled, "come on, Lisa, you think we're playing for FUN here?" We take our donuts seriously.

Morale was dropping. Jenny didn't want to play anymore, so at her turn she picked up a ball and without even looking, rolled it down the alley... and got a strike. Morale soared! We were back in the game! Mostly there was a lot of hilarity and good times, so even though we ended with only 690 points, we got the donuts anyway. Everybody should have a big family.

Best/Worst Sisterly Highlights

noreply@blogger.com (lfar) — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 22:20:00 +0000

I was baking with Jack and Rob, my two youngest brothers, the other day. No recipe! No measuring! W-w-wild, am I right? It was also like science class. At every step, I explained the science, like why we heat the water up before we mix in the Jello powder, or why we use baking powder.

Man! Best sister ever, right? What 7 and 10 year olds DON'T want science lessons all day? None. They all do. I was letting my head get a little big with all this "they must love this chemistry!" until I realized that maybe not all kids like the lecture. Maybe they just wanted to bake. Maybe I'm actually the worst sister ever?

Then, another other day, we went camping. When we were building the little teepee to start the fire, Jack asked if he could light the match. "SURE THING, SMALL CHILD," I said. I taught him how to strike the match, but as soon as it would light he would get scared and drop it. I took the matches from him, thinking I was being the best sister ever, because 7 year olds shouldn't be comfortable igniting fires anyway.

Man! Most responsible sister ever, right? When a 7 year old is match-curious but properly cautious, you should tell them to wait until they are older. Then I realized that maybe this is one of those curiosities that should be explored when the responsible older sister is around to help. So we knelt in the fire pit ashes together for a good 15 minutes, striking match after match until he was comfortable holding it in the middle so that the match stick wouldn't break. Then we practised shielding it from the wind with our hands, and eventually my favourite young lad started the fire all by himself. He was so proud of himself! And I was so proud of him, too!

Sometimes I'm not sure whats the BEST SISTER EVER thing to do, and when I'm actually just being WORST SISTER EVER. It's a tricky line, you guys! Well, they want to go ride bikes to the creek now. Here's what that involves: throwing rocks into the water to make a big splash. Again and again. I love those boys so much!