Journal Instead

I know a bunch of writers have expounded on the horrendousness of Sundays, but I need to throw in my two cents. They fucking suck.

It's a day off, but I'm antsy, angsty, and simply waiting for the week to begin. I just want to get it over with. An awful day that happens every week and happens the same every time.

But there is comfort even in this, because hey, at least I know it's coming. Just like I know that the confusion and disappointment I'm experiencing in my master's program is right on schedule. The classes are dull, some of the teachers are ridiculous, and I'm not learning what I wanted to learn. So now all I think about all day is music. I play piano again, am drawing up a technique schedule, saving money for an eventual piano, and practicing more at the music school now than I did when I was a student there.

It seems I am never happy whatever I am doing, and always enjoy the clandestine more.

I started a class today, and it was a clear indicator that I am ready for grad school. People in my class didn't know the meaning of "appropriation". Almost no one had the readings done. I had the excellent excuse of them not having my email until yesterday, and did four of the five readings in one night. I was impressed with myself.

The course is different in the sense that it's an introductory course, but also a fourth year course, ostensibly the most challenging that undergraduate work can be. But Jesus, it was filled with white women totally fine with using symbols and concepts from any ol' group of people they felt like, for whatever purposes they needed, and I called them on it.

It got quite the reaction. One woman informed me that colonization is still happening in this society of ours. I totally agreed with her, stating that appropriation is part of colonization. She was under the impression that to use symbols and ideas of some of groups of Indigenous people in Canada was only a celebration of their culture and couldn't possibly be part of colonization.

Another (white) woman informed me that she was as much a victim of colonization and that the Aboriginal drumming ceremonies spoke to her on a profound level. Thankfully the teacher stepped in and discussed the romanticization of Aboriginal cultures, and the lumping them all into one homogenous group. I was flabbergasted at the naivety, and systemic racism, and was practically having a panic attack with calling someone on their shit like that, in such a public space.

So, needless to say, it was a long, exhausting day of eight hours of class.

Um, my life is pretty boring right now and I'm keeping it all pretty chill, so I'll be not doing very many updates until the spring, when the sun returns and with it, my desire to do things.

Almost like the beginning of Lost in Translation, except chubby.

This is the magic light that keeps me from being too sad in the Winter.

I got this bowling glass, and three others similar to it, for about two bucks at the Bay. They had been marked down about five times. Score!

Th...that sky is.. blue? Shiiiiiit yessss! (Admittedly it looks kind of purple here, but nevertheless.)