We're having our first set of visitors come up towards the end of this week, which hopefully means that we'll be more motivated to go and do things out in Montreal. And, you know, set up our futon...
Tomorrow I have a job interview to look forward to. A couple of ladies I've met have connected me with this place, and while they don't have any actual positions available now, something might open up before the beginning of the fall semester--it's academia, so sometimes a job that is a sure thing just evaporates because of funding, and sometimes money is found in a closet and a job materializes. The goal is to go in tomorrow and make a good impression--it looks like it will be the same kinds of things I've done in face-to-face tutoring, with things like study skills and note-taking thrown in for good measure (which is fine because I was already working those things in with the kids I tutored).
I got an application out for some online tutoring last week, which involved having to edit 3 sample student papers. I took a couple days and worked on them on-and-off until they were finished and I was okay with the work I'd done. The day I needed to mail them out, my computer did some kind of system restore and ate them, so I had to redo all three in the span of about 4 or 5 hours.
It's funny how things are all relative--I was stressed about applying for this job, I was stressed about losing all of my careful work, I was stressed about re-doing them in time. About half an hour before my self-imposed deadline, I got a message from my aunt telling me that my father's health had taken a turn for the worse, and that I needed to get in touch with him. And suddenly, all of this job stuff was a piece of cake. I finished the papers up and emailed them back, and I haven't stressed about it since.
Tuesday, May 31, 2011
Thursday, May 26, 2011
Changes
I checked the mail last night when Ben and I got back from hanging out with some friends; I got a letter from the City of Westmount. I figured, oh, it's just a reminder that I got a ticket or something, but no.
The city finally had gotten around to mailing me Penelope's dog license.
We moved to another country and left our friends behind and Ben got a new job, but our dog being gone is still the biggest upheaval of all.
This morning I woke up and my computer had done some sort of system restore that meant I lost all of the work I'd done on a few sample essays for a prospective job. As soon as I realized this, a jackhammer started right outside of my open window.
The good news is, it started raining so I guess they went away. I know better to go outside because at this rate my umbrella would turn inside-out and I'd get splashed by a car.
So anyhoo, I'm at 2/3 papers and my brain is pretty darn fried at the moment.
In more cheerful news, B and I are maybe going to play some board games this evening. We took a nice walk last weekend that I'll post about, but a friend took some nice pictures so I thought I'd wait until then.
The city finally had gotten around to mailing me Penelope's dog license.
We moved to another country and left our friends behind and Ben got a new job, but our dog being gone is still the biggest upheaval of all.
This morning I woke up and my computer had done some sort of system restore that meant I lost all of the work I'd done on a few sample essays for a prospective job. As soon as I realized this, a jackhammer started right outside of my open window.
The good news is, it started raining so I guess they went away. I know better to go outside because at this rate my umbrella would turn inside-out and I'd get splashed by a car.
So anyhoo, I'm at 2/3 papers and my brain is pretty darn fried at the moment.
In more cheerful news, B and I are maybe going to play some board games this evening. We took a nice walk last weekend that I'll post about, but a friend took some nice pictures so I thought I'd wait until then.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
Spring!
The weather has improved! Our last bit of snow was in early April, but spring in Montreal is coming a lot later than I'm used to. To illustrate, the tree outside our window has just gotten enough leaves to be able to block the sun from coming in. It's a maple, and the leaves are still sort of droopy and soft-looking, like when a butterfly is waiting for its wings to dry out.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Healthcare-related post
Last Thursday, I started feeling...not right. My nose was doing that thing and the back of my throat was all that way--I presume that you probably have those personal warning signs that your body sends you when you are potentially going to get sick. That's what was going on with me. So some friends were having people over for board games but I let them know I wasn't coming because I felt like I might have a cold.
Over the next two days I first lost my voice and then developed an incredibly painful sore throat. By Sunday, it hadn't gotten better, so I hauled myself up and Ben and I walked over to the local Urgent Care-type clinic in Westmount. It turns out that their doctor had called in sick, so we had to hoof it further downtown to another clinic.
We walked in and this place was totally packed and blasting a radio station playing what I presume were the best hits of the 70's, 80's, and early 90's. The line to the counter was so long that it kind of blocked off the entranceway, so the sick people coming in had to squeeze by the sick people who were already in line. It wasn't a disaster area, but it looked like a crowded non-emergency waiting room, the kind of place that if you walked into in the States you'd know you could be there upwards of 4 or 5 hours.
"Okay," I thought, "if this is terrible I have to be honest about it and tell people on the blog in the interests of semi-journalistic semi-integrity."
As you're probably aware, one thing I was interested in checking out while I was in Canada was the healthcare system. I'm in favor of single-payer healthcare, where doctors and hospitals and such do their thing and the government takes the role of the insurance company and takes on the part of the bill that they're responsible for, as well as negotiating rates and all that.
Have you ever NOT had health insurance? Do you know what that's like?
I wrote a big long bit here describing what it's like to not have health insurance, but then I erased it because a) I'm not going to convince you of anything new and b) if you ever didn't have health insurance, you probably don't want to think about what that was/is like. I'm sorry I brought it up.
Anyway, because I didn't have health insurance for a particularly desperate portion of my life, I think that the world would be a better place if people did have health insurance. I'm willing to entertain something less-than-fabulous, or something half-broken, or something with death panels; I don't care.
So here I am, sitting in this germy waiting room in some of the worst pain I can remember, and I think, "Yeah, this might end up being terrible."
So we sat there and paid our $120 cash (we're not on the gov't insurance just yet so we have to use Ben's work insurance, which means getting reimbursed after the fact). Ben went across the street and got me a smoothie from a Tim Horton's. I wrote him little sad notes on the back of a pap smear pamphlet they had lying around.
To my surprise, we were really only there for maybe half an hour before my name was called. I went back, hopped up on the bench, he took my temperature, asked me a few basic questions, wrote me a prescription, and I was on my way. Took maybehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif...4 minutes?
I went back out--Ben was surprised to see me so soon!--and we got the prescription and caught a cab home because we'd already done so much running around.
In retrospect, now that I'm not deathly ill, I am okay with the experience I had at the clinic. Doctor didn't actually tell me what he thought I was sick with, he just gave me some antibiotics and got me out the door. This isn't particularly awesome healthcare, but I also didn't have to sit in the waiting room for a good 4 hours until he saw me. All in all, it got the job done and that was good enough for me.
We went home and Ben made me lasagne the way I like, with bechamel sauce. Hasn't been until today, really, that I've felt human again, which means I was out for nearly a week. Of course since Ben was taking care of me and I wasn't doing my usual around-the-house stuff, there may or may not still be a bit of evidence lying around...
Over the next two days I first lost my voice and then developed an incredibly painful sore throat. By Sunday, it hadn't gotten better, so I hauled myself up and Ben and I walked over to the local Urgent Care-type clinic in Westmount. It turns out that their doctor had called in sick, so we had to hoof it further downtown to another clinic.
We walked in and this place was totally packed and blasting a radio station playing what I presume were the best hits of the 70's, 80's, and early 90's. The line to the counter was so long that it kind of blocked off the entranceway, so the sick people coming in had to squeeze by the sick people who were already in line. It wasn't a disaster area, but it looked like a crowded non-emergency waiting room, the kind of place that if you walked into in the States you'd know you could be there upwards of 4 or 5 hours.
"Okay," I thought, "if this is terrible I have to be honest about it and tell people on the blog in the interests of semi-journalistic semi-integrity."
As you're probably aware, one thing I was interested in checking out while I was in Canada was the healthcare system. I'm in favor of single-payer healthcare, where doctors and hospitals and such do their thing and the government takes the role of the insurance company and takes on the part of the bill that they're responsible for, as well as negotiating rates and all that.
Have you ever NOT had health insurance? Do you know what that's like?
I wrote a big long bit here describing what it's like to not have health insurance, but then I erased it because a) I'm not going to convince you of anything new and b) if you ever didn't have health insurance, you probably don't want to think about what that was/is like. I'm sorry I brought it up.
Anyway, because I didn't have health insurance for a particularly desperate portion of my life, I think that the world would be a better place if people did have health insurance. I'm willing to entertain something less-than-fabulous, or something half-broken, or something with death panels; I don't care.
So here I am, sitting in this germy waiting room in some of the worst pain I can remember, and I think, "Yeah, this might end up being terrible."
So we sat there and paid our $120 cash (we're not on the gov't insurance just yet so we have to use Ben's work insurance, which means getting reimbursed after the fact). Ben went across the street and got me a smoothie from a Tim Horton's. I wrote him little sad notes on the back of a pap smear pamphlet they had lying around.To my surprise, we were really only there for maybe half an hour before my name was called. I went back, hopped up on the bench, he took my temperature, asked me a few basic questions, wrote me a prescription, and I was on my way. Took maybehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif...4 minutes?
I went back out--Ben was surprised to see me so soon!--and we got the prescription and caught a cab home because we'd already done so much running around.
In retrospect, now that I'm not deathly ill, I am okay with the experience I had at the clinic. Doctor didn't actually tell me what he thought I was sick with, he just gave me some antibiotics and got me out the door. This isn't particularly awesome healthcare, but I also didn't have to sit in the waiting room for a good 4 hours until he saw me. All in all, it got the job done and that was good enough for me.
We went home and Ben made me lasagne the way I like, with bechamel sauce. Hasn't been until today, really, that I've felt human again, which means I was out for nearly a week. Of course since Ben was taking care of me and I wasn't doing my usual around-the-house stuff, there may or may not still be a bit of evidence lying around...
Monday, May 2, 2011
On a more positive note:
It's useful to remember, I think, that no matter how screwed up my country is (possibly because of how screwed up we are), we make AWESOME art. I was feeling kind of alienated there for a second, but then I remembered that we're also responsible for Angels in America and jazz.
Here are some daffodils I arranged last weekend in NYC at my friend Rose's place.
Here are some daffodils I arranged last weekend in NYC at my friend Rose's place.
Ex-patriotism
Today is a strange day, because of a combination of events.
In case you've been living under a rock, there has been some pretty big news coming out of the States. Most of my Twitter and Facebook friends have had things to say about this; there were things I agreed with and things I did not, but I will keep such opinions to myself as everyone else has already said everything I may or may not have wanted to say.
Mostly this has made me think of where we were as a country and where I was personally ten years ago. On one hand, we've begun to wrestle in the public arena about things like whether or not you should be able to get married to anyone you want, which I never ever thought would even happen in my lifetime. On the other hand, there's a lot about being American that I don't care for anymore--it makes it difficult to feel patriotic and proud of your country when you get accused of being un-American when you dissent. I am morally repulsed by the idea that American lives are somehow more valuable than the lives of people who happen to live somewhere else.
On Friday, my friend Louisa (I HAVE A FRIEND GUYS) and I went to see Gore Vidal speak at McGill. Gore Vidal has always been a blowhard and a bitcher, which I respect, and he seems to be one of the last people I know of who have that odd, laconic, aristocratic American accent that seems to have denoted education and class at one point. If I were to describe to you a news broadcast where William F. Buckley (another person who has this odd accent) and Gore Vidal call each other a "crypto-Nazi" and a "queer" respectively, I doubt you'd think it would sound as unhurried as this does.
Long story short, Gore Vidal's various political opinions appear to have condensed themselves into "I don't care, I'm old." It's kind of discouraging that Gore Vidal, allegedly one of the greatest living thinkers, is fed up with thinking about any kind of solutions to America's problems, and is content to let us all go rot because he is old and has given up messing around with us. Not that I am alone in this. Mr. Vidal also disregarded requests for opinions on the Quiet Revolution and the Canadian election, and refused to conjecture at all about the future of politics, the world, or most anything.
Finally, today is Election Day in Canada (whether or not Gore Vidal cares, it's still happening). We played board games with some of our usual crew last night, and the Canadians were jazzed about going to be able to vote the next day.
One of our crew was a francophone--I told her to enjoy voting and to be sure to vote for me too, and she seemed uncomfortable to tell me that she was going to vote for Giles Duceppe, who is with the Bloc Quebecois, who in turn advocate for Quebec succession. Personally, I don't have a dog in this race, and I know for a fact that the guy and his party have quite liberal politics that I can get down with. I totally took a quiz and it said I should vote Bloc Quebecois! But I am an anglophone so I suppose it made her hesitant. Then she gave me and Ben a hug which was nice because I was raised by engineers and don't know when it is okay to hug people.
So here I am: I can't vote in the Canadian elections and there's all this sociopolitical stuff going on that I still don't get and am going to offend someone about if I haven't already, there's a big patriotic ruckus in the US going on that I feel separated from not only emotionally but geographically, and Gore Vidal, a Great American thinker, now thinks all Americans can burn hell for all he cares because he's moved to Italy and is old.
So I guess this might be part of being an expatriate--disconnected from old home, disconnected from new home. Glaring example of difference between old and new? We're unsure that we can find a bar to watch election results come in with some of our interested Canadian pals.
In case you've been living under a rock, there has been some pretty big news coming out of the States. Most of my Twitter and Facebook friends have had things to say about this; there were things I agreed with and things I did not, but I will keep such opinions to myself as everyone else has already said everything I may or may not have wanted to say.
Mostly this has made me think of where we were as a country and where I was personally ten years ago. On one hand, we've begun to wrestle in the public arena about things like whether or not you should be able to get married to anyone you want, which I never ever thought would even happen in my lifetime. On the other hand, there's a lot about being American that I don't care for anymore--it makes it difficult to feel patriotic and proud of your country when you get accused of being un-American when you dissent. I am morally repulsed by the idea that American lives are somehow more valuable than the lives of people who happen to live somewhere else.
On Friday, my friend Louisa (I HAVE A FRIEND GUYS) and I went to see Gore Vidal speak at McGill. Gore Vidal has always been a blowhard and a bitcher, which I respect, and he seems to be one of the last people I know of who have that odd, laconic, aristocratic American accent that seems to have denoted education and class at one point. If I were to describe to you a news broadcast where William F. Buckley (another person who has this odd accent) and Gore Vidal call each other a "crypto-Nazi" and a "queer" respectively, I doubt you'd think it would sound as unhurried as this does.
Long story short, Gore Vidal's various political opinions appear to have condensed themselves into "I don't care, I'm old." It's kind of discouraging that Gore Vidal, allegedly one of the greatest living thinkers, is fed up with thinking about any kind of solutions to America's problems, and is content to let us all go rot because he is old and has given up messing around with us. Not that I am alone in this. Mr. Vidal also disregarded requests for opinions on the Quiet Revolution and the Canadian election, and refused to conjecture at all about the future of politics, the world, or most anything.
Finally, today is Election Day in Canada (whether or not Gore Vidal cares, it's still happening). We played board games with some of our usual crew last night, and the Canadians were jazzed about going to be able to vote the next day.
One of our crew was a francophone--I told her to enjoy voting and to be sure to vote for me too, and she seemed uncomfortable to tell me that she was going to vote for Giles Duceppe, who is with the Bloc Quebecois, who in turn advocate for Quebec succession. Personally, I don't have a dog in this race, and I know for a fact that the guy and his party have quite liberal politics that I can get down with. I totally took a quiz and it said I should vote Bloc Quebecois! But I am an anglophone so I suppose it made her hesitant. Then she gave me and Ben a hug which was nice because I was raised by engineers and don't know when it is okay to hug people.
So here I am: I can't vote in the Canadian elections and there's all this sociopolitical stuff going on that I still don't get and am going to offend someone about if I haven't already, there's a big patriotic ruckus in the US going on that I feel separated from not only emotionally but geographically, and Gore Vidal, a Great American thinker, now thinks all Americans can burn hell for all he cares because he's moved to Italy and is old.
So I guess this might be part of being an expatriate--disconnected from old home, disconnected from new home. Glaring example of difference between old and new? We're unsure that we can find a bar to watch election results come in with some of our interested Canadian pals.
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