I haven’t written a blog in a while because I couldn’t come up with a topic that is light-hearted but with passion behind it that was guaranteed to keep readers intrigued to the very end. Keep your hopes high and your expectations low. Recently, it has come to my attention that I may know more about first dates than your average girl. Not because I am particularly popular or irresistible to men, or as some people choose to believe that I am just bad at saying no. More likely it is because I believe that everyone deserves a chance and why would I pass on someone before finding out how incredible they are, even if it isn‘t my particular brand of incredible. At least that’s what I tell myself. This type of thinking has given me some great dates, and some… well, let’s say great stories. I am going to avoid the age-old questions such as to-kiss-or-not-to-kiss? And who pays? And what does my mother mean when she says no one wants to buy the ice cream truck when you’re handing out the popsicles for free? Instead I will focus mainly on dissecting the different date scenarios and how each one will almost inevitably end in disappointment for one or both participants.
Disclaimer: My family is guaranteed to read this and it may result in some omissions on my part. Also, there may be some potential dates lurking out there and I don’t want to give away all my secrets.
In my experience there are 2 categories of first dates with 3 possible outcomes for each. The categories are for people who you have been acquainted with and the second category is for strangers. Commonly known as the ‘blind-date’. Each type of date has the possibility of ending well for both parties, only one party, or neither of you are satisfied and you feel as though you have wasted an evening. But do not despair! It was not wasted, with my tips you can make sure that you come away with something positive from every date. Even if it is solely the knowledge that you never want to go on another date with that person.
Acquaintance dates are the hardest to approach, because no matter what happens this is no longer just ‘hanging out’ and your relationship will change. This is true whether you are best friends for life and were born on the same day in the same hospital and your mom‘s went to pre and post-natal yoga together, or you talked to him once at a party and found out that he is Kathy’s brother’s friend who is only in town for a weekend and is totally rad and definitely bad news. So whichever one of these it is the best case scenario is that you instantly fall in love and become completely devoted to each other for the rest of your lives. Which is a fairly large change as well as highly unlikely. The flower of your undying love would have had the consideration to blossom already. If you have known each other for a significant period of time, scenario two is much more plausible. It is likely that one of you has been harbouring feelings and finally decides to act on them at which point they realize that the other side of their dynamic duo does not feel the same way. There is no take-backs once you make it a date. You may try to act as if it just strengthens the bond between you now that you know there is no mutual romantic attraction. But one of you will always be wondering if they are being hit on and the other one will always be wondering why their feelings aren’t reciprocated. The entire relationship will end up fizzling and dying out. So, the best you can hope for is you both realize that there are only completely platonic feelings between you, but then why did you even try to go on a date? The moral of the story is to please use caution when asking a friend on a date. The odds are not in your favour.
Blind dates are tricky because while there are less expectations that it will actually work out, you have to spend an entire evening with this person and they may end up being harder to get rid of than gum nailed to the bottom of your shoe. So approach with caution. When entering a blind date it is crucial that you remember there is definitely a reason these people can’t get dates on their own. They may be boring or crude or just downright unpleasant and you need to be prepared with a chipper attitude to be able to get through it at all. The most important thing though is to never, I repeat NEVER, turn the criticism around and wonder to yourself why it is that you are being set up on a blind date instead of already being in a committed relationship, because you are obviously flawless and just doing a friend a favour. Definitely convince yourself of that. The best thing you can get out of a blind date (since stimulating conversation is out) is a night away from surfing the net and maybe a great story you can tell your friends. If you go into a blind date with that attitude they will *sometimes* exceed your expectations and it won’t seem like such a bad night. Just don’t journal it because you will go back one day and wonder why the fact that he did not once blow his nose into the cloth napkin was such a turn on.
Yes, I may seem like a pessimist. Just remember, no matter how badly the first date may have gone the second date is almost guaranteed to go better. So go out there! Get your own first date stories, and if the stars align one day you will prove my cynicism wrong.
Monday, January 10, 2011
Friday, October 8, 2010
Log #3
I had another embarassing bus ride. Well, in fact, it was on the lrt. This time it was my fault. I made the mistake of reading the last 50 or so pages of "Sophie's Choice" while I was on my way to school. It was a little awkward when I started crying (ugly crying, not a few gentle tears sliding down my cheek.) Even more awkward was the girl from my Germ 225 class who was witness to the whole horrifying display. More awkwardness? Yes please. The young man sitting next to me was so intrigued as to what could be behind my waterworks that he made no effort to hide as he turned his body towards me and leaned over my shoulder as he read along with me. Even worse was the fact that in my effort to stop crying I was reading rather quickly and every time I would turn the page before he was done he would make little noises of displeasure, obviously frustrated. So I, being a good little doormat, slowed down so I was sure he was done the page before I turned it. Needless to say it was a less than comfortable trip.
So, I have been musing for the past little while on the artifice that is this urbanzed little world in which we live. Our green 'nature' areas look anything but natural. The grimaces and displeasure which colours the faces of the general populace is unnatural. The subways, concrete and metal that we are surrounded with is not a natural environment. We are constantly changing our natural mental states with caffeine, alcohol and drugs. We plug ourselves into I-pods or are preoccupied with our cell phones while sparing no disdain for the person that sits next to us on the bus. I have noticed however, people becoming more interested in returning to nature, perhaps because of it's increasing rarity. The amount of colleagues who have intimated to me the desire to live simple lives and grow gardens and be near nature surprised me. There is a growing dissatisfaction with the ever expanding metroplis' that my generation lives in. A good friend of mine pointed out that even musical tendencies are heading towards simpler, acoustic music which resembles Bob Dylan and Cat Stevens in it's folk roots-y feelings. All of this, combined with a renewed zeal for protecting the environment, spurred on by threats of a global warming disaster, is creating a more compassionate and empathetic population. Unfortunately, the impersonal infrastructure that we live in every day does not nurture these hopeful desires. We, as humans, need more nature and nurture and less efficiency and division. Collective joy needs to make a comeback in a big way.
Because these blogs just keep getting less and less fun and more serious I will make a concerted effort to write a more witty and entertaining one next time. In the meantime, here's one of my favourite viral videos for your viewing pleasure: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xU9W7Qo1T6M
So, I have been musing for the past little while on the artifice that is this urbanzed little world in which we live. Our green 'nature' areas look anything but natural. The grimaces and displeasure which colours the faces of the general populace is unnatural. The subways, concrete and metal that we are surrounded with is not a natural environment. We are constantly changing our natural mental states with caffeine, alcohol and drugs. We plug ourselves into I-pods or are preoccupied with our cell phones while sparing no disdain for the person that sits next to us on the bus. I have noticed however, people becoming more interested in returning to nature, perhaps because of it's increasing rarity. The amount of colleagues who have intimated to me the desire to live simple lives and grow gardens and be near nature surprised me. There is a growing dissatisfaction with the ever expanding metroplis' that my generation lives in. A good friend of mine pointed out that even musical tendencies are heading towards simpler, acoustic music which resembles Bob Dylan and Cat Stevens in it's folk roots-y feelings. All of this, combined with a renewed zeal for protecting the environment, spurred on by threats of a global warming disaster, is creating a more compassionate and empathetic population. Unfortunately, the impersonal infrastructure that we live in every day does not nurture these hopeful desires. We, as humans, need more nature and nurture and less efficiency and division. Collective joy needs to make a comeback in a big way.
Because these blogs just keep getting less and less fun and more serious I will make a concerted effort to write a more witty and entertaining one next time. In the meantime, here's one of my favourite viral videos for your viewing pleasure: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xU9W7Qo1T6M
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Log #2
First few days of school: Yes, I am already behind and Yes I am writing this blog instead of catching up. Whatcha gunna do about it? I have a few thoughts on some of my classes. One in particular but we will get to that later. “This suspense is terrible. I hope it will last” -Oscar Wilde.
Linguistics shall be first. Start off on a high note. Very interesting class indeed, and my prof reminds me a little bit of Indiana Jones in the years between The Last Crusade and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I doubt that any girls will be writing ‘love you’ on their eyelids, but he must have been rather swoon-worthy at a younger age. But, seeing as I sit at the back of the class I am able to concentrate on the incredibly interesting course material.
Spanish I may end up failing. Merely due to the distance between classes and the massive importance my professor places on punctuality. CCIS, why did you only make 2 ways out? And why can I not exit to Quad? A pox on you and your architectural flaws.
German Film Studies is definitely going to be my favourite. Also the one that provides the most distractions from doing the work in my other classes. Every time we watch a clip in that class I have an overwhelming desire to watch the entire movie. I will be so knowledgeable about Bavarian Cinema that I am sure anyone would hire me for mere conversational purposes. People do that right?
Ah, now for the BIG one. The one class that everyone seems to take. The reason CCIS has the pox. PSYCO 104. Silly, naïve, innocent girl that I am and was, I began my university career in the highest level of classes made available to me. I floundered in MLCS 210, I yawned in GERM 211 and 212 and the rest of my schedule I piddled away in things like Drama. Well let me tell you, I am now paying dearly, my friends. My class consists of upwards of 80% first year students and a mere 24 pupils who managed to keep our brains from exploding in that dreadful first year. *
It’s not that psychology doesn’t interest me, there is a reason I chose it as a science requirement. I am incredibly interested in the practical application of psychology in terms of understanding learning and thought patterns in order to help the general population ascend to the intellectual heights which it is no doubt capable of. So, naturally, I had that well-thought out answer ready when my dear, sweet, unassuming professor asked the class why we would like to learn the course material from her (and then gave 30 seconds for us to click A,B,C or D depending on which of her contrived answers we liked the best. But that’s beside the point.) Post impersonal-response-system, she asked for unique genuine answers from a few volunteers. I was ready. Straining upwards like a 5 year old who knows why unicorns are extinct and desperately wants to impress the all-knowing kindergarten teacher. Alas, it was not to be. Instead she calls on a young man in the back row who unabashedly, open-facedly and unashamedly admits to taking the course in order to be able to ‘manipulate and use women.’
“!!!!!” Thought I, clearly appalled by the candid response so easily admitted in front of a class of what must have been 75 percent female (this was also demonstrated earlier by the I-Clicker response system.) Clearly this gentleman was, as they say, cruising for a bruising. I was to be shocked once again at the uproar in the classroom. Not of the kind which I expected, but of laughter and agreement! Shock! And yet I was not to be let off with that slight demoralization of women’s intelligence. My professor, also chortling quietly, advised him to merely tape a $50 bill to his head and he could skip the class and get his money back.
Must I elaborate on the horror of this ideology? Is this what we are teaching the new impressionable minds who have come for higher education? Are these the women whom we tell to empower themselves no matter what course they choose to take in life (and university)? I can understand that it seemed a humorous interruption to the monotonous drone of 5,000 fingers clicking away on keyboards.** Perhaps I am a jaded old woman who feels the need to take offence to the slightest attack at her intelligence. I will just let all you young men out there know, I will not be fooled by money or suave trickery and I hope that the rest of the females in my generation can see through the humour and allow themselves to be worth more than a silly comment made with impeccable timing.
*all statistics in this story are true and as accurate as 500 students clicking little white buttons before being cut off can be.
** Give or take a few. I-Clicker did not ask if we all had 5 digits on each hand or if we are one-finger typists or anything of that Tom-Foolery. This is solely my assumption. Thusly, take the previous note with a grain of salt, if you will.
Linguistics shall be first. Start off on a high note. Very interesting class indeed, and my prof reminds me a little bit of Indiana Jones in the years between The Last Crusade and Kingdom of the Crystal Skull. I doubt that any girls will be writing ‘love you’ on their eyelids, but he must have been rather swoon-worthy at a younger age. But, seeing as I sit at the back of the class I am able to concentrate on the incredibly interesting course material.
Spanish I may end up failing. Merely due to the distance between classes and the massive importance my professor places on punctuality. CCIS, why did you only make 2 ways out? And why can I not exit to Quad? A pox on you and your architectural flaws.
German Film Studies is definitely going to be my favourite. Also the one that provides the most distractions from doing the work in my other classes. Every time we watch a clip in that class I have an overwhelming desire to watch the entire movie. I will be so knowledgeable about Bavarian Cinema that I am sure anyone would hire me for mere conversational purposes. People do that right?
Ah, now for the BIG one. The one class that everyone seems to take. The reason CCIS has the pox. PSYCO 104. Silly, naïve, innocent girl that I am and was, I began my university career in the highest level of classes made available to me. I floundered in MLCS 210, I yawned in GERM 211 and 212 and the rest of my schedule I piddled away in things like Drama. Well let me tell you, I am now paying dearly, my friends. My class consists of upwards of 80% first year students and a mere 24 pupils who managed to keep our brains from exploding in that dreadful first year. *
It’s not that psychology doesn’t interest me, there is a reason I chose it as a science requirement. I am incredibly interested in the practical application of psychology in terms of understanding learning and thought patterns in order to help the general population ascend to the intellectual heights which it is no doubt capable of. So, naturally, I had that well-thought out answer ready when my dear, sweet, unassuming professor asked the class why we would like to learn the course material from her (and then gave 30 seconds for us to click A,B,C or D depending on which of her contrived answers we liked the best. But that’s beside the point.) Post impersonal-response-system, she asked for unique genuine answers from a few volunteers. I was ready. Straining upwards like a 5 year old who knows why unicorns are extinct and desperately wants to impress the all-knowing kindergarten teacher. Alas, it was not to be. Instead she calls on a young man in the back row who unabashedly, open-facedly and unashamedly admits to taking the course in order to be able to ‘manipulate and use women.’
“!!!!!” Thought I, clearly appalled by the candid response so easily admitted in front of a class of what must have been 75 percent female (this was also demonstrated earlier by the I-Clicker response system.) Clearly this gentleman was, as they say, cruising for a bruising. I was to be shocked once again at the uproar in the classroom. Not of the kind which I expected, but of laughter and agreement! Shock! And yet I was not to be let off with that slight demoralization of women’s intelligence. My professor, also chortling quietly, advised him to merely tape a $50 bill to his head and he could skip the class and get his money back.
Must I elaborate on the horror of this ideology? Is this what we are teaching the new impressionable minds who have come for higher education? Are these the women whom we tell to empower themselves no matter what course they choose to take in life (and university)? I can understand that it seemed a humorous interruption to the monotonous drone of 5,000 fingers clicking away on keyboards.** Perhaps I am a jaded old woman who feels the need to take offence to the slightest attack at her intelligence. I will just let all you young men out there know, I will not be fooled by money or suave trickery and I hope that the rest of the females in my generation can see through the humour and allow themselves to be worth more than a silly comment made with impeccable timing.
Fin?
*all statistics in this story are true and as accurate as 500 students clicking little white buttons before being cut off can be.
** Give or take a few. I-Clicker did not ask if we all had 5 digits on each hand or if we are one-finger typists or anything of that Tom-Foolery. This is solely my assumption. Thusly, take the previous note with a grain of salt, if you will.
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Log #1
Brand New. Eveything is brand spanking new right now. Well not everything. I hyperbolize. New house, new neighbourhood, new church, new school year meaning new (to me) textbooks, and hopefully soon a new job to pay for said textbooks. It's a new beginning that will bring a new ending, which will be followed by a new beginning, which in turn... well you get the idea.
The LRT is down this weekend as a personal "welcome to using public transit". It means that I have to spend an extravagant amount of time on the bus. So here is the first in what I hope to be a series of bus tales.
The LRT is down this weekend as a personal "welcome to using public transit". It means that I have to spend an extravagant amount of time on the bus. So here is the first in what I hope to be a series of bus tales.
The Number 8 on a Saturday Morning
by Adrianne Parke
Nothing out of the ordinary. A girl of 21 boards the bus. I seat myself in front of a couple. The woman then turns to the man and says rather loudly, "What is wrong with these f***ing immigrants? She should be sitting in the disabled seating because that's a f***ing disability." I am rather offended by the ignorance displayed in this outburst and begins to look around to see who the woman could possibly be talking about. Only to realize that this remark was directed at me. Offense immediately disappeared and I settled in as a 5th generation Canadian for what was sure to be an exciting transit trip.
The man swiftly agrees and just as swiftly changes the topic to the construction happening around the city. Regaling his sweetheart with all of his skills of which he has many. His exact words I believe were, "I can do f***ing anything! Anything at all!" at her incredulity he begins listing all of the 'everything' that he has done which includes and is mostly limited to construction. He can, however, build an entire skyscraper with his bare hands. He should definitely be on television for that. His final argument at being able to do 'anything' was... I will paraphrase so as not to offend. Let's just say he would sexually satisfy her (message me if you want to know his exact words.) She giggles and calls him naughty, like the coquettish vixen that she is. He then (rather loudly) propositions her to partake in coitus on the moving bus. My eyes bulged and my ears burned and all I could think was, "Behind me??? Please no! But it will make a good story... no, not worth it!"
Luckily, my foreigner-hating friend was far too much a lady to have sexual intercourse on a vehicle of public transit. I thought I had escaped a very awkward, very long bus ride when I began to hear heavy panting and moaning coming from behind me. The other passengers looked just as frightened as I. That was when I realized what was going on. He was proving his point in a rather unconventional way. What could I do? I joined the other passengers in staring studiously ahead and avoiding any emotion to be betrayed on my face until it was my stop and I could flee the stale bus.
Let's just say, he proved his point. I now believe that this loudmouthed bus man can, in fact, do 'anything'.
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