Wine in a Box

Last night I drank some Turning Leaf merlot...out of a box. Why is it that drinking wine from a box gets you drunker than wine from a bottle? The novelty of the spout? The easy access? The lack of measurement? It doesn't make any sense. All I know is that when I woke up this morning there were tostitos all over my floor and water in the bath tub. Also, my editor complained to me via msn that I called him a douche bag.

Empirical observation is necessary.

Et tu, Brute?

John Keats wrote, "What the imagination seizes as beauty must be truth." I think the phrase is equally honest if reversed - What the imagination seizes as truth must be beauty. For if a=b, then b=a. Truth and beauty are inseparable. Beauty requires truth to be beautiful. But truth, can truth be beautiful? More often than not, the truth, in its unavoidability, is ghastly and hideous. One might say that truth is hideously beautiful because it is truth and truth is more desirable that falsity. Is it actually though? It is true that truth can sometimes act as a comfort or support. And yet, it often serves as a disruption to our ordered lives - a source of discomfort and displeasure. In these cases, wouldn't it be much easier not to know the truth? To live in a warm cocoon of denial? To die in a bath of ignorant bliss?

Yes. It would be easier. But not necessarily better.

Caesar convinced himself that he was mightier than God himself and thus, that he could have no enemies. Cocoon of denial? Most certainly. It was painfully obvious that Brutes hated your guts Caesar. You pretended to be his daddy and then tried to throw him out of Rome! Caesar refused to see the truth. Caesar ended up dead on the Senate floor.

Perhaps not the most applicable example...but still. Jeeze Caesar. All that's left of you is a mediocre pizza franchise that also sells hockey cards with its meals.

Blogging = kewl.

Some of you may have noticed that the most recent post on this blog, up until now, was almost 3 months ago. For this I sincerely apologize - partly to the two people who may actually read it and partly to myself. Blogging is a fun, creative release, but requires disciplined effort. When I started this blog, I made a pact to myself that I would write something, even if it was just one line, everyday in order to maintain some semblance of sanity throughout the school year. Obviously I have shattered that pact - almost as easily as Johnny Depp shatters hearts. I struggled with the same problem as a kid when I used to try and keep diaries. My mom, and Jo from Little Women, always told me that journaling was the best way to become a writer. I tried in earnest, and would actually write 2-3 pages every night, but my intentions usually faltered after a week when the anxiety of middle school life made sleep look like a more attractive use of my time.

Now that I'm in university, my schedule is busier and more erratic then ever. There's class to attend, homework to do, groceries to buy, articles to write, radio shows to give, friends to make, hygiene to look after (this cause is most often abandoned), sleep to get and, most importantly, fun to have. It seems highly unlikely that blogging could ever make it to the top of that list. Today I realized though that I currently have no method of un-jumbling my mind. Beverly Hills 90210, which has become a recent obsession of mine, is hardly up to the task. If I continue on in this way, this jumbled mind way, for long, my sanity will pretty much be up for grabs. Thus, I shall blog.

I eat chocolate chips out of the bag sometimes. They're better with peanut butter. They're best with peanut butter on bread.

Wants! GAH.

I want this.

I want a lot of things. In fact, I believe myself to be a professional wanter. Even a wanter of wants! Because...if one did not want anything, one would not have a reason to live. Most of my wants are material - pretty shallow stuff. Does that make me a shallow person? I don't know. Perhaps it depends on the extent to which I act on these shallow wants.

The possibility of fulfilling my wants makes me happy. So I'm a happy girl, even if I want stuff. But there IS a problem. Wants that don't get fulfilled make me sad.

The Bhagavad Gita says the only way we can truly be free is to rid ourselves of desire. That way we are never disappointed. We will be happy with whatever comes our way and accept it.

Frig, that would be hard.

Situation - Buck 65

Often referred to as hip-hop’s Tom Waits, Nova Scotia’s own Buck 65 has managed to impress us again. “Situation”, based on the idea that the year 1957 was a watershed for present day Western culture, is Buck’s (a.k.a. Rich Terfry) eleventh release. Following 2005’s “Secret House Against the World”, it is perhaps the purest example of Buck’s combination of intelligence and frightening wit.
Presenting us with a style far from mainstream hip-hop, Buck 65 nostalgically raps about everything pertaining to a time when most of us, including Buck himself, weren’t even born. Such 1950s allusions include the space race, the beat poetry movement, the Korean War, Che Guevara and anti-communism.
“Situation” is defined by its moody, minor keyed tracks, which seem to constantly run back and forth between Allen Ginsberg and Wikipedia. In contrast to Kanye West (and mainstream hip-hop in general), the “sermon” of this album is presented indirectly and as something we are supposed to figure out on our own. Of course, what we are supposed to figure out is that American culture is still wracked with half-a-century old ridiculousness. For instance, America is still sexually puritanical and we still live under the constant threat of annihilation – not necessarily from Communists, but from the fundamentalist East and our own over consumption. We live in an era with its own chronic fear and dwindling liberties.
Another technique Buck uses to make his sermon clear is that of role-playing. Just like a high school drama geek, he switches from character to character playing a two-bit pornographer on “Shutter Buggin” and then suddenly a vice-squad cop on “Spread Em”. These are actually my two favorite tracks on the album. “Shutter Buggin”, equally spunky and wise, makes its object the fifties pin-up Bettie Page. “Spread Em” is an old Robert De Niro movie. Actually. The combination of “Jaws-esque” horns and repetitive doorbell sounds is oddly brilliant.
My only criticism of this album is that it fails to find the balance between political statement and musicianship. Musical technique and innovation is lacking because too much focus is placed on the “sermon”. This said balance is also missing when it comes to seriousness and fun. Listening to “Situation” is like reading War and Peace – intense, thought provoking, and not something you do everyday. Buck 65 becomes too much the CBC Radio 3 host and too little the quirky Canadian rapper.

An Atlas of Stars - as written by Shannon at 7 years of age

There are so many stars at night,
Shinning beautiful with their light,
They find a way to shine on us,
Up high in the sky, they find a way to love us.

I always see the stars before I go to bed,
Mommy says, "Lay down your head,
And pray for the angels you see in the stars.
You will be one of them one day,
Looking down on the earth with shinning love,
You will be with the Atlas of Stars!"

How come there are so many stars?
How come they are called an atlas?
How come they only show up at night?
Mostly, why are angels stars with their wings so bright?

Stars are pretty!
Life would be so sad without them.
No love would shine on us,
The night is so beautiful when you know
That angels, OUR angels, are in the stars!


I know how to spell shining now. Also, I don't plagerize sections of bedtime prayers.