The ugliest bowl

Four weeks and many funny shaped bowls later, I'm wrapping up the pottery course I joined with my sister. She is a pottery fanatic who's been messing with the art form for years. I'm a total beginner who thought it would be fun to try something different. It was cool exploring another medium to express myself and I really enjoyed the peaceful meditative feeling of sitting at a pottery wheel.

My sis and I are both quite different in our tastes. She likes symmetry and would spend endless amounts of time creating straight lines and even sides. I'm not as finicky and so I'll pull off my lopsided bowls and cylinders from the pottery wheel and declare them as art. Despite our differences, we both agreed that the ugliest of the bowls was something I created that we didn't think could be used for anything practical. I glazed it anyways, all along thinking it would sit in a storage box. What a surprise when I got a call from Zaman this morning telling me how much he loved the purple bowl and that he was eating his breakfast out of it. Seems he thought the 'ugly' bowl was the prettiest of them all and was so happy when we told him we made it especially for him (yes, a little white lie, but you would understand if you saw the smile on his face).

I don't know what my nephew saw in this oddly shaped bowl that's not really the right size for anything. However, I notice that he has the remarkable ability to see brilliance in most things my brainwashed adult eyes overlook. He marvels at the color in a dry fallen leaf and I can only see dull brown. He picks up rocks that he claims are beautiful and smooth after I've passed them without a glance. He looks with awe and excitement at the simple fort I made out of a blanket and chairs while I stress about how I can improve its structure. What a wonderful gift, to see worth in everything through open minded eyes. I hope he keeps that view forever.

I can't believe

I can't believe the anti gay sentiment from the radio announcer this morning. It is absurd that someone can be so bigoted about something that's as much as a non issue as the color of somebody's skin.

I can't believe somebody left their empty pizza boxes outside the elevator in my apartment building. Where do these uncivilized people originate from and how come I am surrounded by them?

I can't believe that the Calgary Flames got their own private H1N1 vaccination clinic. It's outrageous and unacceptable when the highest risk people like patients in hospitals haven't even recieved it and these over paid and over valued jocks get special treatment.

I can't believe that non high risk, relatively healthy Albertans over burdened the H1N1 vaccination clinics and stole the vaccine from those who needed it most. Now we know who we can't count on during a real crisis situation.

I can't believe what a mess the Alberta government has made of the whole H1N1 vaccination process. Not sure I could've done any better but I hope someone is taking notes and improvements are made for when a real threatening virus hits.

I can't believe that I don't entirely dislike Taylor Swift's new song that's playing on the radio. It's musically unoriginal and obviously cut from the same pattern as other big label hits, but when it's on I feel slightly happy and entertained.

I can't believe I got $10 in overdue fines at the library again. Everytime I tell myself it's not going to happen again, yet I am still paying overdue fines, am I just a completely useless creature of habit?

Samina Story: The Musical

Amongst my collection of artsy and obscure films you'll find two oddities, Grease and Grease 2. It's true; although I may try and give the impression of someone with discerning taste, I am crazy about these goofball movies. In fact, I am crazy about musicals in general. I just get giddy when I see people spontaneously break into song and dance in order to express themselves. Grease introduced me to the wonderfuil world of musicals so obviously it's special to me. And simply being the sequel, Grease 2 was an automatic favorite. And besides, how could a 9 year old resist the appeal of a cool rider and songs about reproduction?

Unfortunately, growing up in Calgary and Malaysia didn't allow me the opportunity to see live musicals. The only musicals I was exposed to were the ones I day dreamed about. Yes, I openly admit, that as a kid, when life was amazing or boring or frustrating or wonderful and I couldn't quite express myself, I would sometimes imagine bursting out in song. And I'd also picture everyone around me participating in a perfectly choreographed dance routine.

It wasn't until I was older and started travelling was I able to cross off a few of the shows on my must see list. Everytime I planned on travelling to a big city, my pre departure routine included reasearch on which shows were currently playing there. Fortunately, with the recent growth in Calgary, more and more shows are making their way here and these shows are becoming more accessible.

Currently playing in Calgary is A Chorus Line, marketed as the best musical ever. That's up for debate, but what you can't argue is it's the longest running musical in Broadway's history. Luckily, I procrastinated in purchasing tickets and scored some free ones through a contest I entered. I took my mom and we went and watched it last night. It was fabulous! But I disagree that it is the best one ever, Chicago still holds that honour for me. Happily, I can cross off another show on the list, and that makes me want to burst out in song and dance.

Yesterday's Halo

Mark Berube and the Patriotic Few were amazing on Friday night. Along with Jon Amor and the Lee Harvey Osmond band, they rocked SAIT's Gateway Bar and Lounge. We scored awesome seats five feet from the stage. With a love seat and some leather chairs, we declared it the VIP section and got comfortable.

I first became a fan of Mark Berube et al. when I saw them at the Calgary folk festival last summer. There is something about Mark's voice that really caught my attention. Here's one of my favorite songs so you too can experience their awesomeness;



Of course Lee Harvey Osmond had everyone engaged with their self declared style of acid folk. No surprise there. But we were pleasantly surprised by Jon Amor, an artist from the UK we hadn't heard before. With his witty lyrics and crazy guitar playing he held our attention throughout his entire set.

All in all, it was another fantastic adventure in live music. That was until sober me tried to engage my drunken friends in a debate about the unnatural images of beauty that society bombards women with. It was quite farsical, with them slurring their sentences and me getting visibly frustrated. I'm not sure who started the conversation but I was happy it ended when I dropped off my irritating but lovable and goofy drunken friends to continue their night at another bar.

Chinese Thanksgiving

The white people who like spicy gathered at Sun's BBQ tonight to celebrate Thanksgiving. It was 16 'true' Canadians who celebrate this annual event of giving thanks plus 3 East Indians who like to eat. If you haven't ever eaten at Sun's, you're missing out. Judging from the sea of Chinese people that surrounded us, it is obviously a favorite amongst their community. It reminds me of the ethnic Chinese food we ate growing up in Malaysia. The waiters speak broken english so be careful when ordering almond milk because you'll end up with a coke. But if you study the menu and point at what you're ordering you'll get what you're expecting and you're sure to be pleased with the results. Even the littlest amongst us enjoyed whatever food she managed to get in her mouth.

A lot of food was consumed and we ate until our stomachs were about to explode. I'm learning this is the standard for most Thanksgiving get togethers. In total, our table of 8 and a half stomachs (Metro's only 7 years old), ordered 10 dishes and went through 3 containers of rice.

I'm liking this tradition of Chinese Thanksgiving. There was no cooking involved and no clean up either, just full bellies as we paid the bill and waddled outside. Note for next year though, we must at all cost protect Colleen's beer and dessert from the dish clearing vultures who pounced as soon as they saw an opportunity to get us out of there and usher in the next group.

An unsatisfying vacation

Started a two week vacation last Monday with great expectations. Here is a recap of how it is going so far.

Tuesday, September 29th - In the evening I checked my work email and learned that the university has laid of 25% of their IT staff that morning. Spent the night pacing in my condo, wondering if I had a job to go back to. Fuckers!

Wednesday, September 30th - After no sleep, I went to the gym. My tennis coach lectured me about flu season and needing sleep. I shrugged it off. That night I got sick. Talked to my boss and found out that I still have a job but, and I quote, 'there is another round of lay offs in the new year'. Bastards!

October 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th - Sick! Saw a few movies at the film festival, which didn't do much for my current physical state, but mentally was very fulfilling.

October 5th - Dragged my ass to the gym and attempted a tennis lesson and workout. It was awful and my lungs burned the whole time. Went to work, even though I am still on holiday, to help with a technical problem. Went home and slept the entire day while replaying in my mind the list of things I was going to get done while on vacation.

Regardless, I'm lucky that I have a job to return to, and so I really can't complain. However, I am going to complain about the gross mismanagement at the university. How do you ever get to the point, in a publicly funded institution, when you have to lay off %25 of a department. These are peoples lives their fucking with, all those upper management idiots without forseight, who take 6 figure salaries and million dollar pesions. The majority of them got promoted based on years of service and nothing to do with their abilities. After being at the univerity for over a year now I'm learning a lot about their complete lack of business sense. You poor tax payers, blissfully paying taxes while other people are squandering your hard earned money.

Some holiday. Here's hoping the remaining week picks up a little.

Perseverance

When I was 12 I saw this guy stick two fingers in his mouth and out came the loudest whistle I had ever heard. At the time, it was the coolest thing I had ever seen/heard and I was determined to learn how. For days I walked around in a state of frustration and determination with my fingers in my mouth, blowing and blowing, leaving a trail of saliva and an echo of an awful hissing sound. I remember my dad yelling in annoyance one night at the dinner table that he had enough and I should quit immediately. Quit? How could I quit? If I quit then I would be a quitter and that's out of the question. And besides, I had this idea that if I could master the loud whistle then I would be cool and maybe someday some little kid would be inspired by me, similar to how I was inspired by the whistling stranger.

I can still remember with exact clarity the sense of fulfillment when I heard the first resemblance of a whistle ripple over my water soaked wrinkled fingers. After that, the progression to a level of whistle mastery was quick. It was so strange to me how something that seemed impossible suddenly became simple. This lesson in perseverance was a valuable one to learn.

Whenever I watch footage on television of boxers training I am in awe of how they can dance with a skipping rope. I always had this dream of being able to do that someday. Nine months ago, as part of my new adventures in fitness, I decided that I was going to learn to dance with a skipping rope. Now, if you've ever seen me try to dance with my two left feet, you'd wonder why I'd be foolish enough to add a third obstacle. For some reason, in the fantasy world that's my reality, I was sure I was going to be a natural at it. Wrong!!

My first goal in developing jumping rhythm, strength, and stamina was to learn to do a double under. One jump, two rotations of the rope. On certain days, I hid in the yoga studio of my gym and desperately tried to do a double under. And with every failure and feeling of impossibility, I kept replaying that feeling of my first loud whistle, knowing that one day everything would click and I would complete a double under. Last Thursday I was successful. After waiting and wondering when the moment would occur, it finally happened. It was a joyous and very proud moment. It was another victory to add to the mental checklist of why I persevere.