Subtle as a Brick
I've been noticing a trend lately in the lives of friends around me, so I feel the need to point something out.
Men are not creatures of subtlety as a rule. Oh, there are exceptions to every rule, to be sure. But when you consider that a majority of this gender will, at one time or another, find wrestling/demolition derbies/monster truck races to be an afternoon of good fun, analyzing nuances are not high on their list of priorities.
If you (females) have something you want us (males) to know, you're going to have to spell it out. You're going to have to sit us down, take the remote out of our hands, turn the stereo off, and tell us what you want to say. No hidden messages, no subliminal tapes, no hints, hoping we'll just fill in the blanks for you.
Otherwise, we won't get it. Actually, one of two things will happen: 1) we'll analyze what you tell us and come to the wrong conclusion, or 2) we'll latch on to what you did say and not even attempt to consider what you didn't say.
Truth be told, the whole "leaving hints" tack that some women take is just a sign of laziness. Instead of taking responsiblity for yourselves and just telling us what's on your mind, you're trying to get us to do all the work so that you can walk away from the unpleasantness with a Low Guilt level.
As much as Dr. Phil would like you to believe that men have the potential to read the subtleties of female behaviour, Sharp as a Sack of Wet Mice is our default setting and the switch is broken in the On position.
Thursday, April 10, 2003
Follow the Bouncing Shopping Bag
After months of meaning to, I finally took some time to explore Les Ailes de la Mode (down on Ste.Catherines and University). I found the architecture to be impressive, but I really don't like the wood panelling everywhere. Makes it look like the exterior of a Woody or my Uncle Gaston's basement.
Up on the third floor (past the cosmetics floor where everything smells like my grandmother), there's a feature that made me think of Anastasia immediately. In fact, I took her to see it today. Of course, I got lost on the third floor and had to walk through the lingerie section to find it. Once I saw the aisle of sheep, I knew I was on the right track (I'll will bring along my digicam next time so you can see what I mean).
Hidden away in Les Aisles is a Kareoke Room! That's right: free kareoke all during shopping hours. If you need a singing fix, Les Aisles provides!
It's a big comfortable room with two microphones and cinema-style seating. They've got hundreds and hundreds of songs, although their filing system leaves something to be desired. You just plop right in, pick your song, hand it off to the MC with the silky smooth voice ("Elvis Presley? You got it chief!"), and you're ready to warble to your heart's desire.
As for my singing prowess, let's just saying that there's an old saying that covers it nicely: "Storytellers are failed singers."
After months of meaning to, I finally took some time to explore Les Ailes de la Mode (down on Ste.Catherines and University). I found the architecture to be impressive, but I really don't like the wood panelling everywhere. Makes it look like the exterior of a Woody or my Uncle Gaston's basement.
Up on the third floor (past the cosmetics floor where everything smells like my grandmother), there's a feature that made me think of Anastasia immediately. In fact, I took her to see it today. Of course, I got lost on the third floor and had to walk through the lingerie section to find it. Once I saw the aisle of sheep, I knew I was on the right track (I'll will bring along my digicam next time so you can see what I mean).
Hidden away in Les Aisles is a Kareoke Room! That's right: free kareoke all during shopping hours. If you need a singing fix, Les Aisles provides!
It's a big comfortable room with two microphones and cinema-style seating. They've got hundreds and hundreds of songs, although their filing system leaves something to be desired. You just plop right in, pick your song, hand it off to the MC with the silky smooth voice ("Elvis Presley? You got it chief!"), and you're ready to warble to your heart's desire.
As for my singing prowess, let's just saying that there's an old saying that covers it nicely: "Storytellers are failed singers."
Tuesday, April 08, 2003
Dammit Jim... I'm a doctor, not a physician!
Translation is truly an art form, and it is one I never truly mastered. I studied it in school, but I always had the toughest time distancing myself from the French version. Consequently, the quality of my English writing would drop substantially.
I can translate short documents, like letters or reports, but they take me forever to do. At the end of the day, I'm shocked at how little I've produced. I don't know how long it takes professional translators to produce their work, but I always feel like such a dumkoff when I hand off my translated work.
Just because I can write goodly in English and I can speak both languages, that doesn't mean I'm a qualified translator, any more than the fact that you can count makes you qualified nuclear physicist.
Translation is truly an art form, and it is one I never truly mastered. I studied it in school, but I always had the toughest time distancing myself from the French version. Consequently, the quality of my English writing would drop substantially.
I can translate short documents, like letters or reports, but they take me forever to do. At the end of the day, I'm shocked at how little I've produced. I don't know how long it takes professional translators to produce their work, but I always feel like such a dumkoff when I hand off my translated work.
Just because I can write goodly in English and I can speak both languages, that doesn't mean I'm a qualified translator, any more than the fact that you can count makes you qualified nuclear physicist.
Monday, April 07, 2003
Herding Cats
There was a storyteller conference on Saturday at Le Cabaret du Roi in Old Montreal. It brought storyteller's from all over Quebec (Montreal, Quebec city, Eastern Townships, etc.). There were about 60 people there; a pretty good turn-out.
The point of this meeting was to form an association for storytellers in Quebec, allowing us to pool our resources and support each other. One of the main goals is to lobby the government to recognize storytelling as its own art form (instead of being a subset of Theatre). When that happens, we'll be able to receive more government funding for events.
Storytelling events (both French and English and other cultures) are becoming more and more organized and popular, which means the community is maturing and evolving. The idea of an association has come up before, but it was always dismissed as unworkable and dangerous. But now the community seems to be ready to take the risk and make the leap forward. It's a very exciting time.
On the flipside, I'll be watching how this process grows and evolves. I might be able to use what I learn here and apply it to the local Pagan community. Gods know we could use it.
There was a storyteller conference on Saturday at Le Cabaret du Roi in Old Montreal. It brought storyteller's from all over Quebec (Montreal, Quebec city, Eastern Townships, etc.). There were about 60 people there; a pretty good turn-out.
The point of this meeting was to form an association for storytellers in Quebec, allowing us to pool our resources and support each other. One of the main goals is to lobby the government to recognize storytelling as its own art form (instead of being a subset of Theatre). When that happens, we'll be able to receive more government funding for events.
Storytelling events (both French and English and other cultures) are becoming more and more organized and popular, which means the community is maturing and evolving. The idea of an association has come up before, but it was always dismissed as unworkable and dangerous. But now the community seems to be ready to take the risk and make the leap forward. It's a very exciting time.
On the flipside, I'll be watching how this process grows and evolves. I might be able to use what I learn here and apply it to the local Pagan community. Gods know we could use it.
Sunday, April 06, 2003
Why Canada is not Fighting in Iraq
10. We have no way of getting there.
9. We are too busy at home with the Maple Syrup Season.
8. Jean Chretien might put his helmet on backwards again.
7. Saddam's name pronounced backwards is "Mad Ass". We'll stay away from him.
6. There is only limited potential for sales of Canadian Bacon in Iraq after the war.
5. Our Sea King Helicopter was damaged and needs repairs.
4. Celine Dion can't sing to the troops because she has a contract in Las Vegas.
3. The Rivers in Iraq are too shallow for our War Canoes.
2. Lousy hockey in Iraq at this time of year.
1. Our army is needed at home in case of another snow storm in Toronto.
(Thanks be to Moka for this one)
10. We have no way of getting there.
9. We are too busy at home with the Maple Syrup Season.
8. Jean Chretien might put his helmet on backwards again.
7. Saddam's name pronounced backwards is "Mad Ass". We'll stay away from him.
6. There is only limited potential for sales of Canadian Bacon in Iraq after the war.
5. Our Sea King Helicopter was damaged and needs repairs.
4. Celine Dion can't sing to the troops because she has a contract in Las Vegas.
3. The Rivers in Iraq are too shallow for our War Canoes.
2. Lousy hockey in Iraq at this time of year.
1. Our army is needed at home in case of another snow storm in Toronto.
(Thanks be to Moka for this one)
Friday, April 04, 2003
Those Pesky Crazy Folks
POOHWIRE -- Montreal, 2003 -- The number of people who seem to be talking to themselves, or to people no one else can see, is on the rise in many North American cities. They can be spotted on the street, in the subways, on buses, or even driving in their cars. Many people report feeling an odd uncomfortable feeling creep up their spine when the hear someone speaking a bit louder than they should be, responding to a conversation with a person no one else can see or hear.
However, upon closer inspection, it was revealed that these people were not suffering from some mental imbalance. What they were actually doing was speaking on their cell phones, which have become so tiny, they are almost imperceptable. Some cell phones now come with headsets and microphones, so you don't even need to lift the tell-tale arm to carry the conversation.
Once onlookers realize that the people were simply talking on the phone, these people would simply melt back into the crowd and become imperceptable. That uncomfortable feeling would go away and the population felt safe again.
This is the thinking behind Mayor Tremblay's latest plan to rid the city of Montreal of its pesky homeless problem.
"It's a tarnish to our city's image to see seemingly mad people wandering around freely, talking to themselves." stated Mr. Tremblay. "But our solution is humane and relatively inexpensive to implement."
The City of Montreal's plan is to issue cell phones to every homeless person on the street and train them in their use. Whenever a mentally imbalanced person feels the need to jabber away non-sensically, he/she would be trained to speak into the cell phone. "It is then virtually impossible to distinguish the insane from the yuppie without looking at their shoes," smiled Mr. Tremblay with a confident nod. "Of course, this is a short-term solution. We are currently working on a longer-term solution. You'll notice that is one my promises in my re-election platform."
Unfortunately, this interview with Mr. Tremblay was cut short when he suddenly jumped up, waved me away saying, "I'm sorry... I need to take this call", and moved to a corner of the room to have a private conversation. I must mention that, although Mr. Tremblay had his arm raised as if he were holding a cell phone, I could see neither cell phone nor any other apparatus that would facilitate a conversation with the unknown caller, leaving me with an uncomfortable feeling.
Apparently, this new program is further reaching than previously believed.
POOHWIRE -- Montreal, 2003 -- The number of people who seem to be talking to themselves, or to people no one else can see, is on the rise in many North American cities. They can be spotted on the street, in the subways, on buses, or even driving in their cars. Many people report feeling an odd uncomfortable feeling creep up their spine when the hear someone speaking a bit louder than they should be, responding to a conversation with a person no one else can see or hear.
However, upon closer inspection, it was revealed that these people were not suffering from some mental imbalance. What they were actually doing was speaking on their cell phones, which have become so tiny, they are almost imperceptable. Some cell phones now come with headsets and microphones, so you don't even need to lift the tell-tale arm to carry the conversation.
Once onlookers realize that the people were simply talking on the phone, these people would simply melt back into the crowd and become imperceptable. That uncomfortable feeling would go away and the population felt safe again.
This is the thinking behind Mayor Tremblay's latest plan to rid the city of Montreal of its pesky homeless problem.
"It's a tarnish to our city's image to see seemingly mad people wandering around freely, talking to themselves." stated Mr. Tremblay. "But our solution is humane and relatively inexpensive to implement."
The City of Montreal's plan is to issue cell phones to every homeless person on the street and train them in their use. Whenever a mentally imbalanced person feels the need to jabber away non-sensically, he/she would be trained to speak into the cell phone. "It is then virtually impossible to distinguish the insane from the yuppie without looking at their shoes," smiled Mr. Tremblay with a confident nod. "Of course, this is a short-term solution. We are currently working on a longer-term solution. You'll notice that is one my promises in my re-election platform."
Unfortunately, this interview with Mr. Tremblay was cut short when he suddenly jumped up, waved me away saying, "I'm sorry... I need to take this call", and moved to a corner of the room to have a private conversation. I must mention that, although Mr. Tremblay had his arm raised as if he were holding a cell phone, I could see neither cell phone nor any other apparatus that would facilitate a conversation with the unknown caller, leaving me with an uncomfortable feeling.
Apparently, this new program is further reaching than previously believed.
Thursday, April 03, 2003
The Talent is Terrifying
I went to a second night of French storytelling at the Sala Rosa on St. Laurent. It's a nice little hall, complete with a bar, a stage, and lights. It added a whole new depth and dimension to the storytelling experience.
All I can say about the French storytellers is... Wow. They are so... so... When they tell a story, it seems so effortless, so smooth, so eloquent. Every gesture, expression, and inflection adds so much to the tale they are telling. They aren't on the stage in front of 100 people; these tellers are telling to friends and family, transmitting their stories with grace, style, and a familiarity that binds you inextricably to the them.
I turned to Jackson after one of the tellings, my words almost lost in the thunderous applause, "I know I should be inspired by what I've just seen, but as a storyteller myself, I just feel so incredibly..."
"... Terrified," agreed Jackson. "When I see the older tellers, I think "They've had years to perfect their craft." But when I see the younger tellers, I think "Can I ever sound like that?""
When I'm at my best, I hope I perform half as good as these tellers in the Festival. And to think I'm actually going to try telling in French. *gulp*
I went to a second night of French storytelling at the Sala Rosa on St. Laurent. It's a nice little hall, complete with a bar, a stage, and lights. It added a whole new depth and dimension to the storytelling experience.
All I can say about the French storytellers is... Wow. They are so... so... When they tell a story, it seems so effortless, so smooth, so eloquent. Every gesture, expression, and inflection adds so much to the tale they are telling. They aren't on the stage in front of 100 people; these tellers are telling to friends and family, transmitting their stories with grace, style, and a familiarity that binds you inextricably to the them.
I turned to Jackson after one of the tellings, my words almost lost in the thunderous applause, "I know I should be inspired by what I've just seen, but as a storyteller myself, I just feel so incredibly..."
"... Terrified," agreed Jackson. "When I see the older tellers, I think "They've had years to perfect their craft." But when I see the younger tellers, I think "Can I ever sound like that?""
When I'm at my best, I hope I perform half as good as these tellers in the Festival. And to think I'm actually going to try telling in French. *gulp*
Wednesday, April 02, 2003
Snug as a Bug in Stereo
My headset finally died, which isn't a bad run considering I bought them over 3 years ago.
They were Koss headphones, the kind that grip your head with the plastic band stretching across the back of your head instead of over the top. They took some getting used to, but they were quite comfortable.
So I headed over to RadioScrap to get a new set. The only Koss headphones they had were the traditional ones for $10. I bought them anyways, hoping for the best.
The best was nothing but hope. The sound was tinny and hollow, the headset was incredibly uncomfortable, and it barely stayed on my head. I went back and shelled out the extra $30 for a pair of Sony behind-the-head headphones. What a difference!
Okay... so $40+ for a set of headphones is a bit of an extravagance, but if they last as long as the last set, it'll be worth it. If you knew the cacophony that bangs around my desk at work, you'd understand.
Oooooh... Tom Jones is coming on. Gotta go.
My headset finally died, which isn't a bad run considering I bought them over 3 years ago.
They were Koss headphones, the kind that grip your head with the plastic band stretching across the back of your head instead of over the top. They took some getting used to, but they were quite comfortable.
So I headed over to RadioScrap to get a new set. The only Koss headphones they had were the traditional ones for $10. I bought them anyways, hoping for the best.
The best was nothing but hope. The sound was tinny and hollow, the headset was incredibly uncomfortable, and it barely stayed on my head. I went back and shelled out the extra $30 for a pair of Sony behind-the-head headphones. What a difference!
Okay... so $40+ for a set of headphones is a bit of an extravagance, but if they last as long as the last set, it'll be worth it. If you knew the cacophony that bangs around my desk at work, you'd understand.
Oooooh... Tom Jones is coming on. Gotta go.
French Storytelling
There's a French storytelling festival going on right now called Bouche a L'Oreille and it kicked off last night during the Mardi Gras session at Bar L'Intrus. There must've been about 150 people there to listen to storytelling; it did my heart good to see that.
There were 10 storytellers telling all kinds of tales: bagels and devil, dream-dealing leprechauns, trois petites cochonnes, botched muggings, and tales of how men and women finally got together ("Are you hurt? You've got a cut right below your belly between your legs!"). Some of the stories were quite racy, but that's normal fare for the French storytelling crowd. I had intended to tell stories from my French-Canadian heritage this year, but the opportunities have gotten away from me (mainly due to my stalling daytime-career). Ah well... there's always next year.
I kept thinking how some of the stories would totally not fly at the Guild meetings. The Guild Swapping Grounds, although great fun, can seem timid in comparison to some of the French story nights. Of course, this is completely culturally driven. You should hear how blase native tellers can be when they work farting (and all sorts of other bodily functions) into their stories.
I'm not sure why the English-storytelling scene is so conservative. It might be because the English community is such a melting pot of diversity, the levels of what is acceptable is lower to accomodate the lowest common denominator. Or it might be that storytelling is still regarded as such a Child's Pastime, telling racy stories (even to an adult crowd) seems inappropriate.
But the French are a people of talkers: storytelling is something that is much more ingrained in their psyche, therefore it is much more developped. If you have a room with a French-Canadian, a Hungarian, and a Russian and set them off to talking, it'll sound like there's 150 people yabbering away.
When I see how successfull the French storytelling scene is, it really pushes me to develop more English storytelling events in the city. The next big event I'm organizing is another session at Cafe Perk on April 18th (a Friday). I'll let you know more about it as it comes up.
There's a French storytelling festival going on right now called Bouche a L'Oreille and it kicked off last night during the Mardi Gras session at Bar L'Intrus. There must've been about 150 people there to listen to storytelling; it did my heart good to see that.
There were 10 storytellers telling all kinds of tales: bagels and devil, dream-dealing leprechauns, trois petites cochonnes, botched muggings, and tales of how men and women finally got together ("Are you hurt? You've got a cut right below your belly between your legs!"). Some of the stories were quite racy, but that's normal fare for the French storytelling crowd. I had intended to tell stories from my French-Canadian heritage this year, but the opportunities have gotten away from me (mainly due to my stalling daytime-career). Ah well... there's always next year.
I kept thinking how some of the stories would totally not fly at the Guild meetings. The Guild Swapping Grounds, although great fun, can seem timid in comparison to some of the French story nights. Of course, this is completely culturally driven. You should hear how blase native tellers can be when they work farting (and all sorts of other bodily functions) into their stories.
I'm not sure why the English-storytelling scene is so conservative. It might be because the English community is such a melting pot of diversity, the levels of what is acceptable is lower to accomodate the lowest common denominator. Or it might be that storytelling is still regarded as such a Child's Pastime, telling racy stories (even to an adult crowd) seems inappropriate.
But the French are a people of talkers: storytelling is something that is much more ingrained in their psyche, therefore it is much more developped. If you have a room with a French-Canadian, a Hungarian, and a Russian and set them off to talking, it'll sound like there's 150 people yabbering away.
When I see how successfull the French storytelling scene is, it really pushes me to develop more English storytelling events in the city. The next big event I'm organizing is another session at Cafe Perk on April 18th (a Friday). I'll let you know more about it as it comes up.
Tuesday, April 01, 2003
Productive
I filed my taxes online last light with QuickTaxWeb (a website by Intuit, the makers of QuickTax). QuickTaxWeb makes filing my taxes so painfree and it's so cheap ($25.00 +/-).
In the past, I've been very lax about filing my taxes on time (or at all sometimes). I remember a few warm spring nights of running through the streets of Montreal with my hastily-completed tax forms in hand, down Rene-Levesque to make a quick stop at the Federal Building to drop-off the federal taxes and then popping over to Complexe Desjardins to drop-off the provincial taxes.
I wasn't alone either. There's always a steady stream of folks coming and going from these buildings right up until midnight (the cut-off time). Stressed and worried going in, relieved coming out.
The Giant Restroom of Taxation.
I filed my taxes online last light with QuickTaxWeb (a website by Intuit, the makers of QuickTax). QuickTaxWeb makes filing my taxes so painfree and it's so cheap ($25.00 +/-).
In the past, I've been very lax about filing my taxes on time (or at all sometimes). I remember a few warm spring nights of running through the streets of Montreal with my hastily-completed tax forms in hand, down Rene-Levesque to make a quick stop at the Federal Building to drop-off the federal taxes and then popping over to Complexe Desjardins to drop-off the provincial taxes.
I wasn't alone either. There's always a steady stream of folks coming and going from these buildings right up until midnight (the cut-off time). Stressed and worried going in, relieved coming out.
The Giant Restroom of Taxation.
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