I can't access the university website, so naturally, I'm not doing my homework.
After a long hiatus (how do you spell that?) from writing about what my blog is actually supposed to be about, I have another Greener Life post.
At home in the States, I thought my town was pretty avant garde for all the things they picked up in recycling bins. Books? Yep. Milk cartons? Totally. Newspapers, cardboard, tin cans? Of course!
Reality check. Toronto picks up your regular curbside trash, your regular curbside recycling... AND they pick up composting! It's taking me awhile to get used to putting my food scraps in a separate bag. Finally yesterday I got the little bin everybody uses. I feel so much... Greener ... than before.
So the deal is, they pick up trash and recycling on a bi-weekly (by that I mean once every other week) alternating basis. Compost, cleverly, they pick up every week.
They even have a "waste wizard" online to help out with the "what goes where" question.
I almost forgot: On the street, they even have separated bins for trash, different kinds of recycling, and often, special compartments for coffee cups! I challenge you to find another city that recycles coffee cups on the street. (Really, please share. Is it Canadian? Is it a west-coast mindset? A big city thing? I'm curious).
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Whirlwind Weekend
Not literally. But figuratively.
I'm sitting on the train, window seat with enough foot room for a baby dinosaur, empty seat next to me and practically empty car. I've just plugged in to my headphones and iPod, and am listening to the great (I say great because I made it, of course) Official Toronto-Washington, DC playlist. I smile to myself and think, damn, it's good to be travelling...
Fast forward roughly 9 hours and I'm starting to feel the strain. Customs was a breeze (did you know they don't really care about food items? At least, tomatoes and almonds barely need mentioning), and now we're somewhere near New York and I'm either mentally reviewing the switch at Penn Station, or we've just passed it and I'm missing the empty seat next to me, my legs are restless and sore, and I can't sleep anymore.
And it just goes downhill from there. Fun, but a 17-hour train trip is, as you might expect, exhausting. Gives a person lots of time to study, and sleep, and eat candy. Way too much candy.
So we pull in to Union Station in DC at 2:30am, I practically leap off the train and hop in the car. Twenty minutes later, we're at an all-night McDonald's drive-thru (never as good as it seems) and then home, for four hours of sleep before I get up around 8.
We pick up the U-Haul, drive it home, pack it up, and three hours and change later are pulling out at noon-thirty. For the 12-hour ride back up north to Toronto. Got some more studying done, changed the radio a lot (who knew you had to bring your own CD player for a U-Haul truck? I didn't).
About midnight, we pull into the alley behind my new home. I'm persuasive enough that we unpack that night, then drop the truck off for the night at a nearby parking lot, and walk back to re-construct the bed. By about 4:30am (again) we finally get to sleep.
I wake up with a start and check my clock. It's NOON. I have class at 2. I freak out. Spend the rest of the afternoon and evening in classes, and then. Finally. It's over.
And I have a whole week to wait for the next weekend.
I'm sitting on the train, window seat with enough foot room for a baby dinosaur, empty seat next to me and practically empty car. I've just plugged in to my headphones and iPod, and am listening to the great (I say great because I made it, of course) Official Toronto-Washington, DC playlist. I smile to myself and think, damn, it's good to be travelling...
Fast forward roughly 9 hours and I'm starting to feel the strain. Customs was a breeze (did you know they don't really care about food items? At least, tomatoes and almonds barely need mentioning), and now we're somewhere near New York and I'm either mentally reviewing the switch at Penn Station, or we've just passed it and I'm missing the empty seat next to me, my legs are restless and sore, and I can't sleep anymore.
And it just goes downhill from there. Fun, but a 17-hour train trip is, as you might expect, exhausting. Gives a person lots of time to study, and sleep, and eat candy. Way too much candy.
So we pull in to Union Station in DC at 2:30am, I practically leap off the train and hop in the car. Twenty minutes later, we're at an all-night McDonald's drive-thru (never as good as it seems) and then home, for four hours of sleep before I get up around 8.
We pick up the U-Haul, drive it home, pack it up, and three hours and change later are pulling out at noon-thirty. For the 12-hour ride back up north to Toronto. Got some more studying done, changed the radio a lot (who knew you had to bring your own CD player for a U-Haul truck? I didn't).
About midnight, we pull into the alley behind my new home. I'm persuasive enough that we unpack that night, then drop the truck off for the night at a nearby parking lot, and walk back to re-construct the bed. By about 4:30am (again) we finally get to sleep.
I wake up with a start and check my clock. It's NOON. I have class at 2. I freak out. Spend the rest of the afternoon and evening in classes, and then. Finally. It's over.
And I have a whole week to wait for the next weekend.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
TIFF: Toronto International Film Festival. First Impressions
Well, if I was hoping to provide updates on events and happenings in Toronto, now that I'm here and not in Washington, D.C., I guess I haven't started out very well. It's a good idea, though - from a newcomer's point of view: Toronto.
To start, I arrived in Toronto for the third and last time (still without a semi-permanent residence or mailing address) just days before TIFF began. Lots of hype and celebrities and celebrity-watching... fortunately or unfortunately, I missed the crowds, the red carpet and the celebrities. I guess settling into school and a new city kept me busy enough. Not to mention the spiders.
To get back to the point, I did actually participate in TIFF, though not as fully as I might have hoped (I haven't decided yet, but I think next year if I can I'll be more involved). I went to see one of the shows. Meek's Cutoff was the movie I saw, by director Kelly Reichardt. It was the first I'd ever seen of her work, which is, according to a review I read, very emotionally involved.
Indeed, the plot focused mainly on the characters and the character interactions. Not a critical moviegoer (I like the ones with cars that blow up or have hoop skirts and cravats), I found the pace a little slow to be comfortable. It fit, it was good, but I definitely noticed the time passing.
The ending, well, I liked it. I thought it was fitting. And probably my favorite out of all the alternative endings I've imagined since the end of the film.
The audience was curiously involved - perhaps that's a festival thing? There was a live introduction by a TIFF employee/volunteer, who announced that sadly Kelly was unavailable - she'd had enough of the whirlwind tour of Venice and then Toronto. So no Q&A at the end of the film.
I didn't see a gala or premier event, and I didn't get to participate in a Q&A with the director, so I'm left with the feeling that instead of dipping my toes in the festival experience for an acceptable $20 purchase, I'd merely been to see an outrageously expensive, good film.
There's always next year.
To start, I arrived in Toronto for the third and last time (still without a semi-permanent residence or mailing address) just days before TIFF began. Lots of hype and celebrities and celebrity-watching... fortunately or unfortunately, I missed the crowds, the red carpet and the celebrities. I guess settling into school and a new city kept me busy enough. Not to mention the spiders.
To get back to the point, I did actually participate in TIFF, though not as fully as I might have hoped (I haven't decided yet, but I think next year if I can I'll be more involved). I went to see one of the shows. Meek's Cutoff was the movie I saw, by director Kelly Reichardt. It was the first I'd ever seen of her work, which is, according to a review I read, very emotionally involved.
Indeed, the plot focused mainly on the characters and the character interactions. Not a critical moviegoer (I like the ones with cars that blow up or have hoop skirts and cravats), I found the pace a little slow to be comfortable. It fit, it was good, but I definitely noticed the time passing.
The ending, well, I liked it. I thought it was fitting. And probably my favorite out of all the alternative endings I've imagined since the end of the film.
The audience was curiously involved - perhaps that's a festival thing? There was a live introduction by a TIFF employee/volunteer, who announced that sadly Kelly was unavailable - she'd had enough of the whirlwind tour of Venice and then Toronto. So no Q&A at the end of the film.
I didn't see a gala or premier event, and I didn't get to participate in a Q&A with the director, so I'm left with the feeling that instead of dipping my toes in the festival experience for an acceptable $20 purchase, I'd merely been to see an outrageously expensive, good film.
There's always next year.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Meeting My Advisor for the First Time
Toronto's advising program is great. They put every master's student (junior scholar) with an advisor whose interests match said student's interests.
My advisor is working, researching and teaching in my collaborative program subject area.
I sit down and we start chatting, and he keeps throwing out things about me that sound like they're from my application. So I notice he's done his homework (which is great, because I didn't), making it easier to converse and of course, draw me out on one of my favorite topics: me.
To wrap things up, I just want reiterate how much I really, really want to be studying this subject, so I suggest that he may remember in my application that I said this is one of the main reasons I decided to study at U of T. Without missing a single beat, he nods and says, "It was your first sentence."
I wanted to laugh. My first sentence? Seriously? Oh right, that's howdesperate eager I was to get in. Sometimes I should give myself just a little more credit for, er, motivation.
Needless to say, I'm really looking forward to the program.
My advisor is working, researching and teaching in my collaborative program subject area.
I sit down and we start chatting, and he keeps throwing out things about me that sound like they're from my application. So I notice he's done his homework (which is great, because I didn't), making it easier to converse and of course, draw me out on one of my favorite topics: me.
To wrap things up, I just want reiterate how much I really, really want to be studying this subject, so I suggest that he may remember in my application that I said this is one of the main reasons I decided to study at U of T. Without missing a single beat, he nods and says, "It was your first sentence."
I wanted to laugh. My first sentence? Seriously? Oh right, that's how
Needless to say, I'm really looking forward to the program.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
The Spider Dance
Before I get to the Spider Dance, to assist my brain in remembering what I did today, I'm going to spend some time re-capping. Briefly.
I had a very busy day. I got coffee; met my advisor (outlook great, says my Magic 8 Ball), told life story; went swimming at Hart House, which has a small pool in a room with an arched ceiling (managed four back-and-forth laps of the pool); ran late to the Inforum tour, the faculty space where I'll be spending most of my time; hung out with some new friends; went to dinner with same friends; ate chocolate cake; killed two spiders.
So, the Spider Dance. Involves pacing the floor, while glancing around the room in search of useful, long weapon. Preferably long-handled broom. Muttering, swearing, whimpering. There's that noise, the one that sounds like the teakettle when the water's hot. Next, move a chair to a spot below but not directly underneath Spider. Pace back and forth with weapon (plastic clothes hanger). Pose on chair with arm outstretched, holding weapon as close to spider as possible. Mime killing action. Here, some more moaning, then step down from the chair. Pace. Step up. Stretch arm toward spider. Shudder. Step down. Repeat. Find towel to go over end of hanger and prevent Spider from dropping and disappearing. Finally, whining, half-closed eyes in "flinching" face, stab upwards at Spider with weapon. Repeat. Repeat. Step down, get rid of Spider carcass. Shiver, pace.
Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
P.S. The Spider Dance is usually performed in solitude (i.e. when there are no fearless non-Spider-hating killers or saviors to take care of it instead).
I had a very busy day. I got coffee; met my advisor (outlook great, says my Magic 8 Ball), told life story; went swimming at Hart House, which has a small pool in a room with an arched ceiling (managed four back-and-forth laps of the pool); ran late to the Inforum tour, the faculty space where I'll be spending most of my time; hung out with some new friends; went to dinner with same friends; ate chocolate cake; killed two spiders.
So, the Spider Dance. Involves pacing the floor, while glancing around the room in search of useful, long weapon. Preferably long-handled broom. Muttering, swearing, whimpering. There's that noise, the one that sounds like the teakettle when the water's hot. Next, move a chair to a spot below but not directly underneath Spider. Pace back and forth with weapon (plastic clothes hanger). Pose on chair with arm outstretched, holding weapon as close to spider as possible. Mime killing action. Here, some more moaning, then step down from the chair. Pace. Step up. Stretch arm toward spider. Shudder. Step down. Repeat. Find towel to go over end of hanger and prevent Spider from dropping and disappearing. Finally, whining, half-closed eyes in "flinching" face, stab upwards at Spider with weapon. Repeat. Repeat. Step down, get rid of Spider carcass. Shiver, pace.
Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.
P.S. The Spider Dance is usually performed in solitude (i.e. when there are no fearless non-Spider-hating killers or saviors to take care of it instead).
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Day-to-Day Update: I've Landed in Toronto!
Contrary to what the title suggests, I drove to Toronto. Road trip! Love them. It took all day, and we stopped in Niagara Falls, Canada, before we found our bed and breakfast in downtown Toronto.
The past few days I've been apartment-hunting, walking, drinking coffee, taking the subway, meeting people, and going to orientations. I've also been doing all the important "administrative" things that are necessary for living in another country. And re-discovering the complications of being a foreign resident. Sigh.
I'm a little terrified of grad school. (Can one be a little terrified? Or, if terrified, is that only an extreme?) It all looks very exciting, but the responsibilities of being a "junior colleague" to my professors and advisors is intimidating.
This morning, I registered with my faculty, and while on the steps to the front door (which usually requires a university ID to enter), discovered I'd lost mine. Student ID, that is. After some desperate thinking, I figured I'd left it at the library yesterday afternoon. No coffee unless in spill-proof containers in the library, so I had to take one last gulp and pour the rest out before entering. Double sigh.
I believe I need a refill now, before I meet my advisor.
The past few days I've been apartment-hunting, walking, drinking coffee, taking the subway, meeting people, and going to orientations. I've also been doing all the important "administrative" things that are necessary for living in another country. And re-discovering the complications of being a foreign resident. Sigh.
I'm a little terrified of grad school. (Can one be a little terrified? Or, if terrified, is that only an extreme?) It all looks very exciting, but the responsibilities of being a "junior colleague" to my professors and advisors is intimidating.
This morning, I registered with my faculty, and while on the steps to the front door (which usually requires a university ID to enter), discovered I'd lost mine. Student ID, that is. After some desperate thinking, I figured I'd left it at the library yesterday afternoon. No coffee unless in spill-proof containers in the library, so I had to take one last gulp and pour the rest out before entering. Double sigh.
I believe I need a refill now, before I meet my advisor.
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