Fable 3, or Why You Should Quit While You're Ahead

At the end of my previous entry, I promised to write a post about World of Warcraft: Cataclysm, the third expansion of the mega franchise by the gaming company that has done nothing but flourish over the past fifteen years or so.

This is not that post.

With the onset of free time that I received from finishing my first semester of Teacher’s College, I decided to hunker down and attempt to finish Fable 3. I am well aware that I am about two months late on this, but I now feel reasonably compelled to put aside my ambitions of writing a lengthy post about WoW to instead write a sizeable rant about what was supposed to be my (second-)favourite game of the final quarter of 2010. Lucky you.



I should warn you that this post will contain sizeable spoilers for Fable 3, its plot and game progression as well as mechanics. If you have zero urge to spoil yourself or to read what I have to say, then I don't want you to leave this post empty-handed.

An extremely cute holiday video featuring a really cute Japanese cat for those who don't want to read further. (Heck, even if you read the rest of the post, go watch the video. It's adorable.)

Last call, spoilers ahead!

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Alright. Fable has had a pretty mixed history when it comes to reviews. It seems as if in the past, people either really LOVED Fable, or they completely hated Fable. In general, Fable 2 did better than the first Fable, but that was mostly because Lionhead/Microsoft Game Studios perfected upon certain elements of gameplay that were slightly problematic/boring in the first game. (Making money, figuring out how to be good/evil, maintaining property all come to mind as elements that were massively improved upon between Fable and its successor.) Naturally, I believed Fable 3 would be an improvement on even Fable 2. This excited me.

Another thing that excited me about Fable 3 was the premise. You are the daughter of the King of Albion circa Albion's version of the industrial revolution. Your brother becomes the King on your father's death, but his rule is built on tyranny. The people grow poor and restless, and you are called to lead a revolution against your brother. Um, kick ass. The trailer (the awesome version of which I cannot seem to find on the internet anymore - funny, that) instills a sense of absolute epicness regarding your undertaking as the new hero of Albion. You gain alliances with people in the kingdom, and together you thwart a tyrant. Yes, kick ass indeed.

When I picked up my controller after my large gaming hiatus because of school, my budding heroine was still in the process of gathering alliances. She carried on, kicked some ass, took some names, and eventually I had gathered enough people and made enough alliances to take on my brother. And take him on I did!

And then.

And I am disappointed to say that there is, in fact, an "and then".

And then you are asked to rule for your first year as ruler of Albion. What this entails is making sure that you make good on your promises with the various people with whom you allied yourself as well as amassing troops for the RANDOM SUDDEN THREAT THAT WAS INTRODUCED IN BASICALLY ACT 4 OF THE GAME. You need to gain 6.5 million gold in order to have enough to amass a decent enough army to fight the "darkness incarnate" about to invade Albion. You have 365 days in which to make this gold, while also making good on your promises (or breaking them, whatever, but the choice becomes make good on your promise or be a complete amoral dickhead in order to not spend money) which ends up costing you several hundred thousand gold. This would seemingly be possible, except for the fact that if you advance the plot at all by doing a day's worth of royal duties (making good on the aforementioned promises as well as other random pointless things), YOU SUDDENLY ADVANCE ABOUT A HUNDRED DAYS INTO THE FUTURE.

Uh.

Oh, did I mention that when you do advance about a hundred days into the future, you do not gain profits from your properties/businesses as if a hundred days have passed? So if you ended Day 1 with about $100,000 in your treasury and personal accounts, at Day 100 you have...$100,000 in your treasury and personal accounts, even if you have incoming assets. That's probably worth mentioning.

So I conducted an experiment. I finished the game while being completely moral, making as much money as I could (and I should point out that by the end, I was still in the hole by about $400,000-ish) and letting the final chapter happen after only three possible cash-making days. Sure, I was good, I got my good powers and I defeated the darkness. But most of Albion was killed, dead bodies littered the streets, and on top of that, the final boss was my best friend in the game who had gotten possessed by the darkness. And once the game was actually over, it was noted that my rule would be the one in which I LET ALBION DIE. And when you open the save file after all of this occurs, Albion has about one sixth of the population you started with, and the same dead bodies litter the streets.

Yeah.

I did some research when I was done playing through the plot, because I was sure as hell not going to continue with that save file, since the result was completely ludacrous, and I found that pretty much the only way to get the necessary gold was to use a goddamn exploit.

Seriously, Lionhead Studios? I get that you wanted this to be like "a real monarchy", but everything about this final keystone chapter was flawed. Why couldn't I gain money in the same real time that I should have? Why didn't more opportunities come up to save my people? Why must dead bodies completely litter the streets after I am done playing the game, as a constant reminder of the "great sacrifice" I made as the motherloving benevolent leader of Albion?

If it was possible to end the game directly after I became the ruler of Albion, I would not have needed to write this post. But the last chapter of the game ruined the rest of the game for me, to the point where I actually want to delete my completed save file and create a new one so I can run the game overnight to accrue funds like people needed to do in the original Fable. That's just peachy.

Okay, seriously...next post will be about Cataclysm. Then you probably won't see a game-related post from me in a very long time, either much to your dismay or to your enjoyment.

Happy holidays everyone!

The Countdown Begins - er - Continues...

It has been quite a long time since I have had any space (or time, for that matter) to myself. Practicum ended uneventfully (though it was an amazing experience, as I have alluded to before), and then suddenly we were all thrown into a meat grinder of rapid required reflection. We needed to reflect on absolutely everything...an experience that went well, something we did that we could critique so we could do better next time, alongside several informal reflections - whether alcoholic or not - with the people I have randomly dubbed "the OISE peeps" (appropriate, I know).

It has been a time of massive reflection. And reflecting is all well and good, but now I'm pretty tired of reflecting. It has hit that point where you repeat a word over and over again until the word becomes absolutely meaningless. That's pretty appropriate, actually. The process of reflecting on our teaching becomes a bit meaningless after a time. I can see the purpose of it, but something that is a weakness one day will eventually be changed upon a single reflection on the problem. Instead of hashing it out several times, graded and ungraded, why can't we just be left to our own devices to learn by doing and to do so while learning?

And so the countdown continues. A countdown to what? Well, there are actually two things for which I am "counting down", and now I will list them for you. Okay, the list is mostly for me. But if you're reading this, you might as well indulge me and read the list as well:

1) Christmas

Oh man, am I ever stoked for Christmas. Now that the plans have more or less been hashed out, I have discovered that I will be taking the train ride home for 5 days to bask in the glory of Christmas time with the family. For the first time ever, S will also be coming down to be with my family for Christmas, but he can't come until the 23rd. Whatever, small victories!

My money troubles have been quelled for now with a needs-based scholarship I received from the university. Receiving the scholarship made me realize that my OSAP debt is more or less a ticking time bomb, but now's not a very good time to REFLECT on that (there's that damn word again), so I'm just going to move on.

Slightly related to that, I managed to get my Christmas shopping mostly done. When I go home on the 21st, I will have some time to get those last-minute gifts for the people in my life for whom gift shopping is a notoriously tedious and difficult affair. Regardless, I feel (mostly) ready to begin the holidays now that my shopping is done, and also now that...

2) School is almost over (for now).

How sweet it is! Today is the last day of class for the fall semester. There's a three-day Professional Preparation Conference beginning tomorrow, but that will be useful and interesting. I managed to sleep in this morning by accident, and I missed my last FSL of the semester. Oops. However, I am in the Learning Commons waiting for History to start, and I have my last two assignments to hand in in-hand. Once I have relinquished control of these two pieces of sh--work, and once I have endured the AWESOME PARTY that will be History this afternoon (since even though today is actually a party, History class is always a party to me), I feel as though I will finally begin to count down the days until the holidays. Sure, I still have to haul ass out of bed to attend this conference from Wednesday to Friday, but...it's not quite the same as class.

So that's my personal reflection for today. Dammit, I just used that word again.

Coming soon, a post about World of Warcraft: Cataclysm. Why? Because it's out, and it's awesome, and I'll actually have time to experience it in full very soon.

Halftime

Today, I took a trip that has become quite familiar to me.

I got on the streetcar. I took it east to the nearest subway station and rode the metro going north until I ended up at a familiar stop.

This is the way that I get to my teacher's college. But seeing as I have been doing my practicum over the past two weeks, today was the first day that I've made that trip in...well...two weeks.

Two weeks isn't exactly an eternity, but I couldn't help but feel a bit of a tug when I got off the subway and entered the school. It's strange how much of a connection I have developed with not the school itself, but its contents. Since September, I have learned a lot about teaching from at least three of my professors (won't really talk about that fourth one), and while my most crucial learnings have come from my practicum itself, I have enjoyed the toolkit my courses and colleagues have given me this year. I have also developed some fantastic connections and friendships with these aforementioned colleagues, and after being away from them for two weeks, I can legitimately state that I miss each one of them.

In fact, they're the reason why I made the trek to school today. I went out for coffee with a couple of my buddies from my program, and together we shared our practicum experiences over hot drinks and baked goods. It was nice. It also made me realize that I am eagerly anticipating that moment two weeks from now when we get to re-assemble as a cohort and share our collective wisdom gained from our four weeks in a school setting. Of course, the very fact that I'll get to simply see the faces of certain people in my program once again in two weeks also makes me quite happy indeed.

And now...I plan to spend the rest of my Saturday evening watching TV and planning a lesson to introduce Buddhism to grade 11s.

Practi-cum laude

I made a pun! Ha HA! Given my current level of tiredness, that was quite a feat.

As my awesome pun would suggest, I have started my practicum. Of course, due to confidentiality, my details about said practicum must be scant at best.

What I can mention is that my practicum is amazing so far. It's only been 5 days, but these past 5 days have allowed me to grow so much as a teacher candidate. My Associate Teacher is a fantastic person who has been easing me into creating my own lessons, as well as providing me with tools and ideas for things that have worked for her in the past, while allowing me to add my own flair. Students are warmed up to me now...I noticed that they are definitely treating me as a teacher, and no longer as a stranger in their classroom. It helps that I have been actively trying to learn their names.

This practicum has reaffirmed in me that this is where I want to be. This is the profession that I ultimately want to dive into. I figured the workload would overwhelm me, but even that's not bad. It all feels natural, like this is what I should have been doing my whole life.

I constantly think about my teacher candidate colleagues. Some are struggling with their practicums (practici? Come on, Latin wasn't THAT long ago...), some have been thrown into situations where they have to teach way outside of their teachable in order to satisfy the quota of classes to teach, and some have already had to deal with absent ATs and the ethics behind assuming the role of "main teacher" in conjunction with a supply so soon into the practicum month.

I think also about how my fellow TCs have been coping with their survival. I believe that it is crucial that we lean on each other and provide each other with supports, at least of the moral variety, so that we feel encouraged about our work. I know I am speaking for myself when I say that certain aspects of my life seem to be inexplicably in the process of being tossed around, and it is important that any emotions that arise from this upheaval are dealt with far far outside the classroom. It is difficult, and I feel that separation will become increasingly difficult should the situation not change. Pardon me for being cryptic.

Overall, week 1 was a success. One down, three to go!

Obligatory Post

Another birthday is drawing to a close. That's fine, birthdays tend to pass as quickly as they arrived. Between my last post and today, I had nearly forgotten about my actual birthday (which seems impossible, but true).

I am content with how my day played out. I attended the second day of my practicum orientation, in which I received my share of free birthday food and candy (yes, candy - the teachers gave me candy from their "extrinsic motivation" drawers because they had nothing else to give...I love these people already). I got free coffee from three different Starbucks locations (not ashamed of abusing my birthday privileges...ask your local barista for the birthday discount). Then I came home to find that I had received an outpouring of internet love on Facebook.

As I filtered through the myriad of brief well-wishes, what I did notice was that I had NOT heard from someone who I hold very close to my heart. I know, people are busy. I know, people have lives, and some folks don't check their Facebook on a near-obsessive basis (er, not like *I* do that or anything), but that does cut me a little. Even I send out birthday wishes to 99% of the people on my Facebook when that notification comes up. But does this person care for me the way they used to care? That is currently the sad reflective question on my mind, thirty minutes until October 28th.

The outpouring of "happy birthday" that I did receive almost makes up for the notification that is startlingly, glaringly, unhappily missing.

But so this post isn't entirely melancholy, I just discovered that October 27th is also (not on a leap year) the 300th day of the year. That makes me feel extra special indeed!

EDITED: Semi-false alarm - I got belated best wishes from one of the subjects of this post today. The fact that I haven't heard from the other is probably just a symptom of larger problems. It's okay - superficial conflict and stuff. I still love you all.

Near Future, Simple Future

I feel like I haven't had enough time to process what is going to happen to me next week.

First of all, my birthday is on Wednesday. I am VERY excited. I'm not *doing* anything, but I am excited regardless. I'm going to be 25. Some people freak out when they hit 25, since it signifies that a quarter of a century has passed. For me, hitting 25 is causing me to reflect on my personal accomplishments.

There isn't really much.

Many of my colleagues in my courses have accomplished so much in their short lives; we have former ESL teachers, people who have lived and worked abroad, writers, scholarship winners, artists...and me. What are my notable accomplishments so far?

As I sit and think on this question, I find myself in my apartment. Alone. I can stare out my window and watch the Gardiner and its steady flow of life...those people have probably done more in their lives than I. I have had many dreams, big dreams...but the only dream I have ever had that has begun to blossom is my attendance at OISE. I have many big dreams that involve my heavy involvement in school culture, education, curriculum development, the business of changing lives. That's what I want to do, where I want to be. I only wish I got here sooner.

I begin my practicum in November as a History teacher. An unexpected development; I was all but completely certain that my first practicum would have me placed in a French classroom. My excitement knows no real boundaries - I get to be involved in a school, in implementing and experimenting with lessons, in finding myself within this underestimated profession. What's not to love?

Though we are taught not to compare ourselves with others, I am sitting here finding myself doing just that. I think about where many of my colleagues have been, how enriched their lives already seem to be, and I can't help experiencing a prolonged sense of longing. I wish I could have done more. More life experiences lend directly into our role as educators. I feel that I have wasted the first half of my twenties, and while some will disagree, it would be difficult to change my mind. I have a Master's Degree, so what? So do many of my colleagues. What sets me apart from my colleagues? My relative lack of outside experience. My lack of accomplishments. My lack of granted awards, extra-curriculars, a resumé complete with extra padding. These I don't have.

This feeling is common, I think it's called the quarter-life crisis.

What depresses me the most is that some of these people in my program that I admire the most are younger than me. Think for a few minutes about how that would make you feel, and it's possible you understand.

Tonight, I raise a glass. To health, to happiness, to another 25 years. To a more productive and enriching second half of my twenties.

And to you, whoever decides to take the time out of their day to read my semi-coherent words.

Procrastination

This week is going to probably be one of my most stressful weeks of the semester. I have a lesson plan and a grammar worksheet (of sorts) due on Friday, a group presentation Thursday and I am spending all day tomorrow at a high school.

You'd think I'd be working.

Nope.

It's not exactly a want for motivation, per se. I am simply a chronic procrastinator. I have always been this way. Somehow, a switch just goes off in my head when it's time for me to not work, and instead I find myself trolling the internet, watching TV with my cat, reading, or indulging myself with unearned video game time. I also tend to fall victim to the "I can't work with a messy condo" syndrome and end up doing a full clean sweep of the whole living space, most of which ends up being completely unnecessary. I think everyone does that.

This blog is more or less a procrastination piece. Food for thought.

In other news, I found out about my practicum! I get to teach history!

EEP.

Here I was, panicking about whether or not I knew enough about French to justify me teaching it, and now I need to shift that panic toward figuring out whether or not I know enough about CANADIAN HISTORY to justify teaching that as well. Our wonderful professor gave us some strategies and book recommendations to get our Canadian history knowledge in check, so I hope to be able to work on some of that before Orientation next week. We'll see. It's bad enough that my lesson plan is going to be for a unit that I already find relatively dull, now the odds are very high that I will be relegated to TEACHING it next month. Sounds like it is time for me to develop strategies to make history fun.

I don't think I can justify sitting on my butt any longer, I gotta get back to work.

I'll post more fruitfully when I'm not buried under giant mounds of work.

Ciao!

Thanksgiving

It's *amazing* how much more productive I am when I feel sick. I decided to stay home from school today, since when I woke up this morning, I was achy, I had little-to-no appetite, and it felt as if I was nursing a hangover when I hadn't so much as had a single drop of alcohol the previous evening. Since I am trying very very hard to keep myself as healthy as possible, I took this as my queue to take a personal day, catch up on some sleep, and medicate appropriately so I might feel better in time for Thanksgiving.

13 hours later, I do feel 100% better. If I had some kind of bug, it left before it could outstay its welcome.

And it is kinda funny...we have a lesson plan due next Friday for my FSL class, and I think I'm almost done mine already. I spent about an hour on it this evening, since I already had an idea of what I wanted to do, and aside from completely laying it out and ironing out the creases, I think I have a solid lesson plan complete. I guess forcing yourself to be confined to a certain space for an afternoon can help one's productivity.

But as I was working, I was thinking in the back of my mind about Thanksgiving, as my ultimate goal for today was to feel better before my first dinner tomorrow night. I composed a list of things I am thankful for this year.

"What I am thankful for", 2010 Edition:

* Transitioning into my life in Toronto in a somewhat seamless fashion;

* Meeting the fantastic people in my program (and some less-than-fantastic individuals, because even they bring joy in the form of laughter or anecdotes over alcohol);

* The school for whom I am currently volunteering before November, since they have been a great model so far for me and a decent gauge of expectations before my first practicum;

* S, as S is my rock, and that person who helps me keep my feet on the ground, even if he does so while playing video games or engaging in various other forms of nerdiness;

* My cat, because studies show that petting a cat can help lower your blood pressure, and man did I ever need lowering of my blood pressure A LOT since last Thanksgiving;

* The Starbucks by my house, because most of the baristas know me by name, they always genuinely ask about my day, and are fantastic people in and of themselves;

* My family, who tries very hard to help me out even though I should be completely financially independent by now, and who doesn't mind it when I take whirlwind trips home to have them guide me through bureaucratic nonsense that I simply can't seem to handle by myself;

* My online family, those people I hang out with in video games or simply over MSN or AIM, since I have made and maintained valuable friendships because of certain online universes.

Of course, I've probably missed something, or lots of things, but this is a sampling of what I am thankful for this year. Have you thought about what you're thankful for yet?

Well, if you're American, you technically don't have to think about it yet. Whatever, just humour me a little.

This is not a post.

So, I have decided to do a bit of reflecting upon the last few weeks of school, and also talk briefly of the madness to come.

Teacher's College has been fantastic thus far. We're in our first week of October, and I am facing about the same amount of workload that I expected to be facing when I applied to Teacher's College in the first place. If you look in my planner, you'll see that each Tuesday (and to a lesser extent, each Thursday and Friday) of each week in October has a little sticker on it. A sticker means that I have to do something or hand something in. That's right, I basically have between 2-3 things to hand in or to do each week this month.

Our narrator calmly sips from her tall cafe mocha from Starbucks. Mmmm...consumerism.

It hasn't fazed me so far. Yeah, there's a lot to do. But I keep reminding myself that I just got finished writing a paper that was about the size of a small apartment before I started Teacher's College. I changed the topic of said paper after already doing a whole semester of research, causing me to start an entire Master's-level thesis paper from scratch...twice. In doing so, I developed stupidly amazing time management skills since this time last year, I was balancing 6 hours of class with about 3-4 hours of related reading per course each week, PLUS TAing for a demanding survey course in the Classics department, spending between 5-6 hours per week attending the aforementioned class or assisting students or grading or creating exam questions or preparing my guest lecture, PLUS RESEARCHING FOR THE PAPER I NEEDED TO WRITE BEFORE APRIL TO GRADUATE IN EVERY EXTRA HOUR OF EVERY DAY. Let's also not forget the nights I stayed up late, terrified to go to sleep, since I'd have to wake up the next day and complete another 16-17 hour day of class/TAing/researching/beginning outlines and drafts.

Our intrepid narrator continues calmly sipping coffee.

So, you see...while there's a lot to do, I'm not exactly worried. I am in a much better mental state than this time last year.

Oh yes, I wanted to talk more about Teacher's College. We are asked, as teacher candidates (I love that saying - teacher candidates...reminds me of MA candidate, which I was just last year) to put in 10-15 hours of volunteer work at a high school in our area. We are assigned to a teacher, much like our practicum, but we won't be responsible for lessons...simply hanging out in the classroom, observing how the teacher does things, helping students as necessary, and maybe leading an activity with a class, if there is time/space to do so. The teacher I get to hang out with for this volunteer project, I feel, is basically me 10 years into the future.

Seriously, she even looks like me.

We have the same attitude about teaching, she maintains her classes in about the same way I would like to maintain mine...it's like my TES instructor paired me off with someone who not only matched my teachable, but my personality. The students are fantastic, and do revere her with more respect than I tend to see given to FSL instructors. I kinda half-assedly hope one of my practicums ends up in that school, no joke.

Speaking of practicum, could I be more excited for that or what? I find out in only nine days where my first practicum will be held, and whether it will be for my first teachable (French) or my second teachable (History). I understand that when I actually get to my practicum, the difficulty level will shoot through the roof. We basically get thrown into the deep end, and we'll have to stay on top of our collective games by creating coherent and interesting lesson plans which we will test drive on our students, and we will have to practise whatever skills we have developed in classroom management. (Thank goodness I attended a workshop about classroom management earlier last month instead of going home to sleep like I so desperately wanted to do.) We will also get to help with extracurricular activities, one of the aspects of practicum for which I am almost the most excited.

I attended a workshop last night on integrating web pages into our instruction, and it just got me so excited to carve out my niche as a teacher. It seems like a random tangent, but honestly...I hope to develop a classroom website when I get started, so that my students can do things like collect handouts they missed from being absent, or check out neat content-related links I post up there. I'm excited about developing a rapport with students, and about using technology to help them develop their own intrinsic motivation. It's all just awesome.

So that's where I'm at right now. Teacher's College is awesome. There's a lot to do, but I'm managing, and I get more and more excited each day to see what I will do in a classroom setting.

Current Events

Raymond Chase Commits Suicide, Fifth Gay Youth to Take Life in Three Weeks.

I didn't want to stumble upon this headline while cruising my typical news websites before going to bed. Despite the fact that I am so very tired after a long week of school, I want to say something about the series of tragedies that have occurred in the LGBT community over the last few weeks.

Raymond Chase is the fifth in recent weeks to take his life. Four others preceeded him; one freshman in college, a 15 year-old, and two (*two*) 13 year-olds. By no means, unfortunately, does the fact that so many have committed suicide recently represent a terribly recent trend; gay and lesbian teens are at basically the highest risk of succumbing to suicidal thoughts. Why?

Unfortunately, what these boys have in common is the fact that they were all driven to suicide because of some form of bullying. Bullying is a major concern these days, and people have been speaking out about it in an effort to raise awareness and *do* something about it. I was bullied as a child, and while the majority of it had passed by the time I reached age 13 (the youngest age of those boys who took their lives), it certainly left its mark on my self-esteem and on my psyche as a whole.

While it's highly esoteric and slightly unrealistic to say that bullying can be eradicated, I believe it is possible for students who do bully to learn acceptance. A friend of mine recently stated that the act of acceptance is preferable to the trend of "tolerance". It is far more agreeable for folks to accept LGBT people for who they are than to simply tolerate it. Sadly, many people are still at the "tolerate" stage, and have yet to move on to acceptance. But if we can even get people to that point, I think that is a major leap in the right direction.

As a future teacher, one of the things I want to do is participate in my school's version of the LGBT Student Alliance. I feel it is important for students who finally come to terms with their sexuality to feel comfortable and accepted in some way, and if they do get bullied because of their self-realization, I believe it is important to remind them that it does get better.

I hope to help spread that message someday, especially as someone who is the "B" in LGBT.

May those who are bullied for their sexuality be filled with inner strength, and may those who suffered and fell at their own hands find peace wherever they find their spiritual resting place. My thoughts are with the families of the deceased, and I hope that acceptance becomes more prevalent in this world.

The Problem with Self-Reflection

As I alluded to in the previous post, I have officially started Teacher's College. It has been an amazing and surreal experience so far. I sense that everything will fly by in a crazy blur of activity until November, when the REAL fun begins.

It's funny, though. I am only taking four courses this semester, and I am only on-campus for three days of the week, but by last Friday, I was SPENT. There is much to learn, and I know that a few of these courses will be intellectually exhausting as we begin to cram in knowledge of our provincial curriculum for our subjects of choice, and as we begin to prepare our professional portfolios.

All Teacher Candidates (TCs) have to create a professional portfolio. These portfolios include our philosophy of education statement, our resumes, some "artifacts" (basically samples of activities or lessons we have planned, and a summary of whether or not we implemented them, whether it was good, etc) and so on. As a language teacher, my portfolio will also include a separate "portfolio langagier" (language portfolio), which also highlights our linguistic identity(ies) as well as our strengths and weaknesses in the French language. Over the weekend, I began to work on this portfolio langagier, since the rough drafts of our statement on our linguistic identity and of our "plan d'action" detailing our strengths and weaknesses are due at the beginning of October. Unfortunately, the process of creating the statement on our linguistic identity has opened a wound which I have been struggling to keep shut for a very long time.



I am an anglophone by default. I am bilingual by choice. My parents both speak English, as does my entire extended family. I am less of a francophone these days as I am a francophile. I love French culture, French movies, French music, and I stand up for myself when people say disparaging things about the French people (a defense that I have had to make several times to people who just don't understand that country I love so much). In my heart, I am as much a franco as someone who was born and raised in France or Quebec. However, aside from a painfully short trip to Quebec City for our grade 12 French class, I have never visited any francophone country or region, ever.

That statement might not sound terrible to you, but it has been a source of my inner turmoil for several years. I struggle even now to try and talk about it.

My family has never been that well off. We lived *comfortably*, but we were never in a place where we could splurge on many things. We never went on vacation, except to a cottage that we would rent from a parishioner that went to my father's church. I think my parents visited England once, in 1980. That was before I was born.

Because I was gifted in French, my teachers always tried to tell me that I should go on an exchange to France. I adored this idea, but my family could never afford it. Each year in high school, I was approached by different people (my French teacher, members of the Rotary Association, among others) and asked if I would consider going abroad. I always had to respond that I would love to, but I couldn't. In university, my program offered a third-year exchange to Nice. Couldn't do that, either. My friend-now-fiancé S planned a trip to visit his mother who was living in France a few years ago. I would never have been able to fund the trip myself with my financial aid, so I asked my parents. I think you will have seen a pattern by now.

It goes well beyond the idea that I simply "couldn't" go.

It has taken me some time to think of an appropriate analogy, so here is my best effort.

Let's say that your family is Irish. You are extremely proud of this heritage, and you do what you can to honour it by eating Irish food, listening to Irish (and Irish-inspired) music, trying your hand at the Gaelic language and dreaming of the green fields of Eire as you sleep. As far as you are concerned, you are an Irish (wo)man in a Canadian's body. You are given a great opportunity to tour Ireland with some friends, who like the idea of going to Ireland, but who aren't simply innately Irish like you are. But you? You cannot go.

That has been the story of my francophone existence since the beginning of high school.

Studies have shown that people who are immersed in a culture and language pick up on it much faster (minus the grammar, which usually suffers without formal instruction) than those who are forced to simply study the language in school. My beloved colleagues in my FSL foundations course have, for the most part, spent time in a francophone region, whether for an exchange or working as an ESL teacher in a francophone country. Their French is melodic and natural. They don't struggle to find their words, and they don't have to think about the translation of basically anything from English into French. But oh man, watch out, because if they have to recite the rules of the subjunctive...I guess I'll excel?

The major problem with this self-reflection, such as my portfolio langagier as well as this blog, is dealing head-on with pain which has been tucked away for a long time. But I suppose that's the point?

Oh, Nintendo.

At some point in the near future, I will make a post chronicling the beginning of my career in my new university. However, today, I feel a distinct urge to post about something much more dire, much more at the forefront of my psyche...something which burns at the edges of our contemporary society and calls for a voice to speak out!

Video games!

Well, maybe I'm exaggerating slightly. But the fact of the matter is that today is a post about video games...or rather, an atrocity which has affected a specific character.

Let me introduce you to Samus Aran.



Samus is a character which was created by Nintendo in the mid 80s. She (yes, she) first appeared in a game simply titled Metroid, a science-fiction fantasy in which Samus is portayed as a bounty hunter who is forced to deal with the likes of Space Pirates (it was the 80s, people). As a fanbase, we later find out through subsequent games that Samus was an orphan who was raised by an ancient alien race, and it is mostly via her connection to this ancient race that gives her the awesome power of being able to turn into a morph ball. She does other things too, mostly via kicking ass, shooting lasers, and generally being an independent female badass with no chip on her shoulder to speak of.

Until 2010.

Enter Metroid: Other M, the latest game in the Metroid series. When Nintendo released the marketing campaign for Other M, it portrayed Samus in a way that had never been seen before. She had a voice, and presumably this game would help to clarify her story as it occurs after the SNES game in the series. Oh yes, I was very excited indeed; we would finally be able to put a voice to the strong female protagonist that has enthralled us, and who has inspired young girl/woman gamers around the world.

Except...I didn't like what I heard.

Among the game's many actual gameplay flaws (which include controls that are confusing/easy manipulated, and a game-breaking glitch which may cause you to be forced to start your game from scratch), the elephant in the spaceship is Samus' greatly-altered personality. Strong independent bounty hunter woman? Not anymore!

Let me break down a scene for you. I promise, this isn't as much spoilery as it is just plain madness.

Samus answers a distress call which is coming from a nearby system. She flies to answer the call. Upon her arrival, she comes across a troop of Galatic Federation soldiers, and the player learns of her previous involvement with this team in particular. What a coincidence! The player meets two characters in particular; Anthony and Adam. Anthony calls her "Princess". Samus gets nostalgic, as "only he called (her) by that name". Adam is the troop commander. Anthony informs Samus that they are there for the same reasons, yay! Adam calls her an outsider - this hurts Samus deeply. Then, this wonderful unimaginability happens.

Samus elects to not use her FULLY OPERATIONAL, FULLY CHARGED SUIT AND WEAPONS UNTIL ADAM SAYS IT'S OKAY. Samus, who FIRST of all doesn't work for anyone, is now taking orders from someone she USED to work with.

And so this mechanic is introduced. In each game, Samus is usually relegated to the task of killing bosses and earning her way (by herself) toward getting new weapons and suit upgrades. In Other M? Samus is fully kitted out from the SNES game, yet she is not allowed to use her extremely helpful abilities.

Not. Allowed.

What message is this sending out to the player? She must submit to someone who a) means nothing to her in the present and b) isn't even her superior, period. Why? There is clearly an inherent undertone of sexism in this portayal of Samus Aran.

Don't believe me? I have another example for your consideration.

Samus' power suit is a very powerful thing which was gifted to her by the ancient alien race, the Chozo. In Metroid: Other M? The suit's structural integrity is affected by Samus' emotional state. At the risk of revealing too much, I will simply point out that Samus begins to lose control of the integrity of her suit because of her emotional response to seeing a certain enemy in-game. I mean, come on. Let's just throw an age-old stereotype of women in there, shall we? Samus is *emotional*, so her suit is clearly somehow affected? Nintendo, what on Zebes were you thinking with this idea?

In a single stroke, Nintendo drastically transformed Samus Aran from a powerful female rolemodel into something from a dating sim.

I am disappointed, and if anyone else mentions this game to me, I am simply going to plug my ears and begin shouting, since as far as I am concerned, this game never happened.

The Zen of Waiting in Line

On Wednesday, September 8th, I woke up bright and early to attend my orientation and registration day at my new university for my new program. After bumbling my way around to try and catch a streetcar, I managed to make it to the building...only to find a line-up outside the door which was about the length of a city block.

This set the tone for the day.

I stood in four different lines that day, costing me about an hour and a half of my time. I stood in line to receive my registration package, complete with class and day schedule and sticker indicating which of two welcome assemblies to attend. This was about a 20 minute wait. I then stood in line to get my picture taken so that my instructors might get to know who I am (a line which was about the size of the lineup outside, except centralized in a cramped hallway, and doubled upon itself). Also about a 20 minute wait.

After the wonderful welcome ceremony, I went upstairs to find the room in which I was to process my financial aid. Very surprisingly, this would prove to be the shortest line of the day. 2-3 minutes tops.

Just a quick side note is needed here. Whenever I have had to wait in line for said financial aid at my old university, I would have to bring a pillow and a book, and expect to miss a class if I had less than 30 minutes before its commencement. This university is about 3-4 times larger (I'm guessing), so my comparably small 2 minute wait was dumbfounding and simultaneously pretty amazing.

That was line number 3.

Line number 4 is where things got pretty epic. After our obligatory cohort meeting, wherein we got to meet our instructors and fellow students, we were given a small textbook list and told that it would be "a good idea" to go purchase them before Monday, since the lineup by then would be "pretty hectic".

Taking those words to heart, I sought the store with the books that I would need.

There was a lineup from the door to the counter, which was probably about 20 meters away.

I stood in that line for 40 minutes.

40 minutes.

But by this point, the extensive standing and waiting had ceased to phase me.

Earlier in the day, I had gone to a welcome assembly, which was led by the Dean of my department. The Associate Dean made a wonderful speech about how Teacher's College will be an experience which is similar to the experience of riding a roller coaster. Everything up until our first practicum is the slow ascent; our careful preparation. The in-class practicum itself would be the first major ride down, complete with loops and the general feeling of helplessness and panic combined with adrenaline. It would be both exhilarating and completely terrifying, but by the end, you will be sad to get off the ride.

This part? The part that involves standing in line and waiting for basically everything this past Wednesday? This was exactly like waiting in line to get on the roller coaster itself. I felt agitated at the fact that I even had to wait, but I didn't want to leave, since I didn't want to lose my spot, and I really, really, really wanted to get to the front so I could get the stuff I needed to get on the ride. Knowing that I just needed to endure these short spurts of standing completely still and waiting for an extensive period of time was basically torture, but I felt surprisingly calm, since I knew I would eventually reach the front of the line and do the next thing necessary to prepare for my wild ride. I wasn't bored, far from it. I was happy to be there, as I am happy now to wait for Tuesday, when I start my first set of classes.

Though I have to say, I felt really bad for the folks who waited in line for textbooks behind me, since as I left, I noticed that the line had quadrupled in size, as it went out the door, and down the street about 80 meters.

Suckers.

Waiting is almost over

I feel conflicted today.

This week is Orientation Week, depending on what school you go to in Canada. Both my alma mater and my new school are having their O-Weeks at the same time.

But this is where that conflict comes in.

I miss my alma mater, the university that I called home for seven school years. I miss my O-Week ritual of walking around campus and watching all the excited first-years navigate around and go to all the various events with their new friends. I miss directing people around the complicated Arts building. I miss the free food and events on the large field in the centre of campus.

BUT.

I am mind-numbingly excited to begin the year at my new university. It won't be the same, for sure, but this excitement is very real. And yet, I can't help but be a little sad about moving on. It's a very strange combination of feelings, to be honest.

I start my new program with an orientation day on Wednesday, officially. I just hope these conflicted feelings will sort themselves out before then, because I just want to be super excited, like I have been over the past, uh, SEVERAL MONTHS.

Wednesday feels too far away.

Caveat emptor

I have the worst shopping anxiety of anyone I know. Not that I don't enjoy the prospect of getting new things, particularly when it involves getting pretty things. But it honestly doesn't matter if I spend $100 in one sitting, or $10, I still feel like a wreck after it's all over, unless I just spent either of those amounts on food. Food is a different story altogether.

But let's take today, for example. I told myself that I needed (*needed*) to get a haircut before school starts, since I will be doing placements starting in November, and I want to look professional before then. I also bought two shirts that look placement-friendly, and an accessory to make the shirts more casual-friendly when needed. I bought a few wooden rings and a metal ring with which I want to crochet a belt. My total spent cash for today rings up to about $104.

For someone who doesn't make a ton of money to begin with, even these purchases (and the desperately-needed haircut, since I looked vaguely like if Cousin It actually had a face) make me feel slightly sick to my stomach. It doesn't matter if the shirts are amazing, or if the bangles I bought are going to kick ass, or if the wooden rings gave me the best idea for a handmade belt that will really personalize my looks.

None of that matters, because right now, I am too caught up in the idea that I just spent money.

I do look pretty fabulous, though.

I've always been wary of money in general. S is my rock, and he is also basically my financial backer until I get OSAP in a few weeks. Whenever we get takeout (which is a lot - neither of us are exactly fantastic in the kitchen), I always feel a deep sense of guilt, even over something as trifling as McDonalds. He always tells me to forget about it, since the money is not his, but ours.

Frankly, that just makes me feel worse.

I've also never been particularly well-off. My family has never really been left wanting, but frivolous expenses were practically out of the question. There might be some residual childhood guilt that comes up when I go shopping. That can't be healthy.

Side note: I'm pretty sure a chunk of this guilt is also related to something I did a couple days ago. I went on a voyage to deposit a cheque I received a LONG time ago (I blame laziness and the heat), and as I crossed the bridge before my bank of choice, I saw a group of people who looked a little out of place. The neighbourhood my bank is in is all condos, all the time. It's a fairly well-off area, and this prime real estate is also extremely close to a few major public areas of interest. While this city has a lot of homeless people, they don't generally tend to hang around here.

I honestly don't know if this group of people were indeed homeless, but they did have a sign - "Any spare money or food would be appreciated."

It might have been the weather, or how the stars were aligned the night previous, but I decided to round the corner to the nearby Sobey's, purchase about $20 worth of Gatorade, granola bars and fruit snacks, and return to the group with a simple "these are for you" before I toddled off quickly to reflect on my impulse purchase. I don't intend for this entry or any part of the blog as a whole to turn into some kind of preachy environment, or into a place where I brag about my random acts of randomness/kindness, but what I did made me think a little. I only spent $20, and I probably helped feed that little group for a little while...it's certainly not the most wholesome of meals, but it was portable, and hopefully delicious. And maybe memorable, I don't know.

I felt a double-edged sword of guilt as I walked home. For one, I had just spent money - something of which I am not a particular fan in the first place. But on the other hand, I only reached out to those less fortunate than me today. And maybe I should be grateful for the resources I do have, and a little less selfishly concerned about my cashflow.

In the meantime, it is probably healthier for me to try and just remember that the money is already spent, that it's better if I keep the clothes instead of wishing I returned them as soon as I left the store, and that I can always count my blessings using a currency that is a little more important than cash alone.

Excitement

What little I knew about life when I was 15 can be summarized into three statements.

1) Highschool drama was a Really Big Deal (with capital letters, like so).
2) I was too smart for my own good.
3) The ubiquitous question "What do I want to do when I grow up" had been answered by the call to work with children and youth.

I spent a lot of time at summer camp when I was a child, and I decided at the age of 15 to become a camp counsellor myself. Thinking back on those days, I'm not terribly sure what inspired me to want to work with children, since I was still a child myself, in many ways. I suppose I figured it was a natural progression of sorts for me. Some folks work at camp because they think it's easy. I wanted to work at camp for the sake of working with children in a relaxed and easygoing setting.

I ended up spending four of my best summers working at two different camps. I held a few important positions, and in that time, my dream of working with children had evolved into an urge to teach youth.

That was when I decided I wanted to become a teacher.

This fall, I finally start Teacher's College. I would have gone right after my undergrad degree was over, like most other teacher candidates, but I wanted to get my Master's Degree first. Turns out, doing that degree actually gave me teaching experience that I could put on my applications. Go figure.

That's why I'm in the Big City. I will be attending Teacher's College here. Now that the necessary pre-registration bureaucracy is over, all I get to do for the next three weeks is wait in anticipation for classes to start.

Given that I don't do much else with my time, waiting in anticipation almost feels like torture. I am finally so close to realizing my dream, it's like I'm now in the waiting room for my lifetime goal. Everyone hates waiting rooms.

I'm sure that if I could see the future at age 15, I would be pretty pleased with myself.

In Defense of Gaming

So, now that I have sufficiently warmed up this blog with introductory posts of stories related to my everyday life, it is time to create a post which has been stewing in my brain for a long time now.

I'm a gamer.

(Pause for effect.)

Okay, that is probably not shocking. I wish it was, but the reality is that we live in a generation of gamers of all ages and genders. The fact that I'm a female gamer will probably make its way into its own post at a later date since there are many issues to discuss on that front for which I do not have adequate space today to post. Video games have become so mainstream that there are theorists out there that believe that gaming can be used to save the world (if you have the time, watch the YouTube video posted in that link, since that speech is riveting enough to be a mustsee for gaming naysayers).

Alright, now that you know I am a gamer, let me take a few minutes to tell you what I am not.

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I am not...

* Anti-social

There still exists this nasty stereotype of gamers as people who shun others in lieu of escaping into their digital worlds. While there are indeed gamers who are introverted to the point of self-isolation, the statistics, if they existed, would likely tell you that there are apt to be the same number of anti-social gamers as there are anti-social people who have other hobbies.

Gaming these days is extremely social. Take, for example, the simple existence of the Wii and of party games such as Mario Party, Raving Rabbids, Wii Sports (which comes with the console upon purchase), Wii Sports Resort, Rock Band and its affiliates, and for the adventurous, Super Mario Wii and Super Smash Bros Brawl. These are all multiplayer video games that exist for the purpose of jovial socializing with others. And for the most part, they are designed to be easy enough to learn so that anyone can play.

In the online world, there exist Massive Multiplayer Online Role-Playing Games (MMORPGs) that, *gasp*, contain the very word multiplayer in the title of the genre. World of Warcraft is, these days, one of the more popular MMORPGs. I will return to WoW as an example later in this post. MMORPGs on the whole literally force you as a player to interact with other players through events such as randomized groups, organized larger "raids" for content that is challenging and requires teamwork to accomplish, and battlegrounds, designed to pit a massive group of players against the opposite faction. These are not single-player events.

I am not trying to glibly imply that there aren't anti-social people who play MMORPGs and decide against engaging in the social aspects of the game. Interacting with others is indeed optional. But in real life, isn't interaction with others while out and about optional anyway?

-------

I am not...

* Undisciplined

No sir/ma'am, I am most definitely NOT undisciplined. I have two degrees. I attained excellent averages in both, and will be starting a third degree this fall. Gaming, if anything, has actually taught me discipline and determination in many ways.

Let's go back to World of Warcraft for a second. WoW has a feature called "dailies". "Dailies" are daily quests, missions which you can complete and repeat every day. There are many reasons that one might do "dailies" each day: to gain reputation with a faction of choice, to learn new unnecessary-but-fun skills (such as extra cooking recipes), to earn gold in order to purchase something in the end, or even to earn achievements.

Achievements are basically exactly as the name suggests. They are accomplishments, recognition for doing something. There is an achievement for doing 50 total daily quests (not in one day, of course...you wouldn't have that kind of time), 200 total daily quests, an achievement for doing at least one daily quest each day for 5 days, and the list does indeed go on.

Imagine the real life applications of either of these systems. I tend to treat chores as "dailies" in my everyday existence. That might sound slightly childish, but go ahead and raise your hand if you actually enjoy cleaning the cat litter. Viewing everyday chores as dailies, and rewarding myself for doing them via achievement rewards such as trips to Starbucks, walks around my neighbourhood, or extra gameplay time on the Wii...there is no doubt that this idea strikes you as one that encourages motivated and productive everyday maintenance. MMORPGs can, in fact, teach you how to be a motivated and responsible person. I'm not joking.

Oh, and before you go and tell me that this practise of motivated chore-doing and rewarding already exists, let me go ahead and just say that you understand my point.

-------

It depresses me slightly that in spite of my adamant defense of gaming and the nature of gamers, people will probably continue to associate it with such traits as anti-socialness and laziness, among other negative attributes which I, sadly, do not have time or energy to dispute any further this evening.

Gaming is no less a legitimate hobby than crocheting, or canoeing, or reading, or creative writing, or playing ultimate frisbee.

Oh wait, I do all those things too.

On Friends and Losing Touch in the Land of Web 2.0

Today, I discovered that an old friend of mine, someone who was one of my first friends on Facebook and who at one time or another was a friend, a co-worker, a highschool chum and a confidante has de-friended me on Facebook.

I'm not going to lie, it hurt me a little.

However, the first question that popped into my mind after the hurt itself subsided was the inevitable "when was the last time we actually spoke?"

That answer depressed me more than the realization that she might no longer be in my life.

The internet is a different place these days than it was even 10 years ago. It has become a digital meetingplace for those who have lost touch with each other via sites such as Facebook, Livejournal, Twitter, Tumblr, even Blogspot. The internet is simultaneously a place to flaunt oneself and a place to hide; you can customize your anonymity to a fault. Facebook, as I mentioned in my first post, is particularly to blame for this phenomenon of reconnecting with long-lost people of all kinds - highschool friends, family, university friends, even former teachers and professors, and we seem to take pride in collecting friends on these social networking sites like trading cards or pokémon.

There are just as many benefits to this evolution of the internet as there are drawbacks. The obvious benefit comes from the idea of reconnecting with someone who has been recently lost, but more recently found again. Childhood friends fall under this example. I, for one, found a few childhood friends on Facebook and friended them under the presumption that they would accept me as I am, almost a decade and a half since I last spoke to them. That they would even remember me, for that matter.

The drawbacks are notable and significant. After you get past the stage of "catching up", what happens next? Say you live in a city several hours from these people, with no feasible way to meet up for something as simple as a cup of coffee. Then all that remains to connect you with these fragments from your past is a website, which is neither eternally permanent or tactile. To remain in touch, you must submit to the idea that you have to talk to them over the internet, without the clear benefits that come with human interaction. Say you or your friend cease to use Facebook for an extended period of time, what then? Then you find yourself back on the shelf of friends they "used to know", or you forget their birthday or neglect to congratulate them on their marriage/baby/graduation, or you remember, but it goes unnoticed. You become simply a fly on their wall. Then the day will come when they decide to cut down their friend list, and your name will appear, and they will de-friend you, since your presence in their life is no longer necessary. As when children decide to trade cards, and a card which was precious to you a few months ago is suddenly disposable.

And life will go on as normal, since these actions occur as footnotes to your existence. They are insignificant in themselves, until the day when you realize you are no longer a part of someone's life.

Facebook is a fine tool for connecting with people with whom you have lost touch. But then it becomes your responsibility to keep the connection alive, and even to find a way to connect with these people away from the keyboard, as alien a thought as that might be in this technological age.

Because despite popular belief, behind each keyboard of a person you "friend" and "de-friend" is a human being.

Coffee

There are a lot of things on my desk right now. My monitor and keyboard take up most of the space. I also have a hand-crocheted pencil case, a bottle of lemongrass and cardamom body lotion (for stress relief, since I do get stressed a lot - I blame my grad degree), a random crochet hook, the case for my fiancé's (hereafter addressed as S) copy of Dragon Age: Origins, my battle.net authenticator and, depending on the time of day, I usually try to sit here with a cup of coffee.

Today, I'm drinking instant coffee.

I don't think there's an adequate emoticon to demonstrate that this is not my ideal cup of coffee.

However, this cup of instant coffee (proving once again that instant does not always equal awesome) is representative of a way that I am now trying to save money.

You see, I love going to Starbucks.

Yes, I am very well aware that my drink of choice at Starbucks costs a whopping $3.78 total in Canadian funds. However, this summer, I have been fortunate enough to be able to count my daily Starbucks trips among my tiny list of luxury expenses. S, since S actually has a decent-paying salary job, has been helping to support me financially as I transition from grad school to teacher's college, which I will be starting in less than a month. He's okay with that, as long as I pay for my own coffee.

Which I have been.

However, the penny-pinching miser in me loathes the idea of spending almost $4 on coffee on a semi-daily basis.

But it is not really the coffee that keeps me buying into their overpriced (yet delicious) swill.

I love the experience of buying coffee.

No, this isn't some philosophical crap. I just love the atmosphere of coffee houses, whether they be mainstream like Starbucks, or more local and independent, like Jimmy's Coffee a block away. There is an aura around the coffee drinkers of these establishments, like an aura of complete and total satisfaction. Coffee does that to people.

Also, the extroverted attention seeker in me coyly enjoys being recognized by the cashiers and baristas, even if that implies that I go to Starbucks far too often. Depending on who is working, they might even have my coffee ready right as I get to the counter to pay for it. It's a nice bit of friendliness to start my day.

So, as you might guess, sitting here with a mug of instant coffee does not quite cut it. This mug doesn't give me that satisfaction of being a part of a community, and it doesn't provide that friendly human interaction which seems so simple, but can really improve upon one's day.

It's not that bad, though. The container, which provides 80 cups of coffee, cost the same as one tall iced cafe mocha from Starbucks.

I'll just have to cope, I guess.

Miscellaneous Thoughts on Books

To say that I love literature is a grave understatement.

However, this is the first summer in a very long time where I have been able to actually read for the sake of reading.

I finished my graduate degree in April. I had been a grad student since 2008, and most of my time had to be dedicated to reading assigned texts as opposed to texts read for pleasure.

Not that this was a problem, most of the time. I read some interesting things about the conflicts related to the European Union, and in that vein, I also got to read some interesting fiction written from the late 19th to the mid 20th century.

Yes, all interesting. All not really stuff that I enjoy reading.

My literary tastes are old-fashioned. I enjoy 19th century French and English literature the most, but I also enjoy authors such as Agatha Christie, and her brand of popular mystery fiction.

I blame PBS.

You see, when I was a child, my parents would watch things like Masterpiece Theatre, Hercule Poirot movies and specials, and whatever was shown during their fundrasing telethons. This used to frustrate me, since being a child, I much rather preferred watching...well, anything else. I would have even preferred the news to most of what was featured on PBS on Sunday evenings. I probably would have even preferred a whole TV station devoted to watching grass grow, honestly.

But one day, the PBS telethon showed a rather interesting concert. I didn't entirely understand what it was, or what it was about, at first. A few minutes in, I found out that it was the Les Miserables 10th anniversary concert. The music kept me interested; I'm a musical learner.

In my young age, I slowly grasped the plot. There was a man who got in trouble, but then he was set free. He met a very lovely, angelic-looking woman who had a sick child. The angel woman then got sick herself and was very sad, and the man promised to take care of the child when the woman went away. He finds the child, who is staying at a hotel of some kind, with a funny-looking man with a large nose. The funny-nosed man made the child do chores all day long. The hero saved the child from having to do chores all day long, and she began to grow up with the man who promised to keep her safe. When she gets older, she meets a man and they fall in love. And in the middle of all of this, there is some kind of big fight and a lot of men die, but the girl and her new boyfriend live happily ever after.

That's how I understood the plot, at age 10. I found out the play was actually based off a book. A couple years later, I read the unabridged version of the aforementioned book, and my taste in 19th century French literature was nurtured, as a literary sapling of sorts. It's still my favourite book. I was fortunate enough to have the brain power and creativity necessary to complete two whole research projects (undergraduate and graduate) on elements of that literary classic.

Long segue aside, I'd like to come back to the original point of this post.

I do get distracted easily.

...

What was I posting about again?

Our intrepid blogger glances at the title of the post.

OH yes.

Because I have a lot of free time nowadays, I have re-picked up the hobby of reading for pleasure. My fiancé bought me a Kobo as a graduation gift, and I have devoured it ravenously, like a homeless man devours a generous feast given to him by a wealthy benefactor. I named it Steve. It comes with 100 "classic books", which might seem boring to the average contemporary reader, but to me? Needless to say, I've enjoyed every "classic" title that I have read so far. Unfortunately, the Kobo doesn't really come with any classic French titles, but I don't hold that against the poor machine. Only the people who put the books on it in the first place.

I mean, come on Kobo developers. You couldn't put Emile Zola on there? No Hugo? Not even any Franco-Canadian authors?

Despite this lovely and amazing invention, I don't think it will replace printed books. I love the feel of crisp pages, the satisfaction of seeing a mound of pages representing your reading progress, and the feeling of completion when you close the covers the final time. Nothing will replace that. But this Kobo is pretty neat.

It's actually a dream of mine to convert a room in my future house into a magnificent library, like those described as being features in English manors in the 19th century. Steve doesn't hinder that dream at all; if anything, I'll keep buying books, but I will create a special shelf for Steve, the Kobo.

To conclude this miscellaneous, stream-of-consciousness-style post, I want to provide a list of my top 5 books of all time. I assure you, this is the hardest part of the post by far. Though keeping my concentration comes a close second.

Aeritone's Top 5 Books of All Time

5) Jane Eyre, by Charlotte Bronte

I actually only finished reading this a few days ago, thanks to Steve the Kobo. It still makes this list, simply because it's everything I have loved in books set in 19th century England. There is romance, intrigue, a huge manor, amazing descriptions of the English countryside, and the theme of overcoming adversity.

4) Les Fleurs du Mal, by Charles Baudelaire

I suppose this is cheating, since this is actually an anthology of poems. However, this was my introduction to French poetry, and Baudelaire's poems on spleen and love still move me today.

3) The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Yes, this is a children's book. However, it is studied by philosophy majors and 10-year old French students alike. The plot is simple, endearing, and whimsical.

2) Curtain, by Agatha Christie

Poirot's final mystery. It is a fitting conclusion for a wonderful popular character.

1) Les Misérables, by Victor Hugo

I feel that little explanation is needed here. It's seriously just an amazing book, probably one of the best of all time.

Trains

It's very likely that I am fully addicted to the internet. Then again, I am also addicted to self-expression, so the internet is a good outlet for such things.

I'm on a train.

Not a great start to a blog, to be certain, but there you have it.

I don't ride trains a lot. But as my family lives in one part of the province, and I now in another, train travel is going to be a necessary convenience if I want to reconcile one part of my life with another.

This particular train will not only carry me from Point A to B, but also through a very important town.

This is the town that housed my highschool, my first job, the river I spent many hours canoeing upon, and many many other elements that truly shaped me into the person I am today. As I pass through the town, I see these things pass in a flash by my window, but the residue of their appearance weighs on my mind.

A side note is needed here. My trip home to visit my parents was a brief affair, punctuated with necessary bureaucratic rites of passage, and the obligatory collection of mail from my university. But during this visit, my parents also forced me to sit down in the garage, in an effort to sort through one or two of the many many boxes that now resided within that enclosed space and take some items back with me to my new apartment in the Big City. As tedious a task as this was going to be, I decided to make the most of it.

As I sorted through the first box, I came across my grade 12 yearbook, the fondest momento I have from my entire highschool career. I remember making it my mission that year to get it signed from as many people as possible, likely with the assumption that since I wouldn't really see many of these people again in my life, it would be a decent idea to contain their memories in a small comment and signature somewhere inside the pages of that yearbook. It struck me, as I sat reading that great symbol of my teenage years, that this was one of my best laid plans.

I saw signatures of friends, distant acquaintances, castmates (as I was an active member of the drama club in my four years), teammates (the same comment goes for my participation on the rugby team), and various other classmates, and as I read through them, it hit me that each comment and mark carried with it a distinct and cherished memory of that person, no matter how well I knew them. Any negative memories of highschool (the awkwardness, the puberty, we have all been there) had been replaced in that second with fondness, and a realization of just how much I never realized I missed these people. How much I missed myself in that wonderfully memory-filled time.

When you leave highschool, everyone tends to make the same promises. To not lose touch, to hang out every summer/winter break/insert holiday here, to keep one another updated on life's small developments. Luckily, with the invention of Facebook, these elements have become easier, but regardless of that innovation, there are still those people who fall off the grid entirely, and your memories of those people are reduced to blips and quick faint images, much like how you see scenery passing along on a moving train.

Of course, this train is ultimately carrying me toward the here and now, the Big City, in which I will soon follow my new path toward higher learning. (Even higher still, I suppose, since I already hold an undergraduate and a graduate degree, but that's an item for reflection at a later date.) New memories will be created, but it feels significant that this train exists, and that every time I use it, I will be carried time and time again through this significant town. It seems to serve a constant reminder of those formative years, and that I should carry the memories of the people and places within those years in my heart as often as possible.