KINGSTON BABY!!!

So this morning I called the practice office to say that I would take the Gananoque placement even though I wasn't sure how I was going to get there. The woman at the practicum office (Tammy) said no problem, she would slot me in.

An hour or two later Tammy calls me back and said that a half an hour after I called in an opening for English came up at LCVI (a highschool right in Kingston and like a 10 min ride from my house) and she said that she gave it to me!!

SO

This means that my placement is now in KINGSTON!!! And I get to stay. And I love life. And I can also take the job at President's Choice Financial that pays me $12.15 an hr.

SO HAPPY! SO EXCITED!

I might actually survive the next 8 months lol.

Thanks for everyone's prayers :) God is pretty damn amazing :)

Carpool

One of the biggest problems of my life at the moment is my practicum. Teacher's College starts in 2 days and I don't have a practicum yet. At the moment there is a potential spot for me in Gananoque but one of the problems is that I can't get there.

There are 3 students already at that school - 2 of whom don't have a license to drive and the 3rd one the practicum office doesn't know if she has a license because she didn't check if off on her sheet. So basically there are 3 students that they placed there that have no way to get there and Queens doesn't really care.

I might be the 4th person they place there.

But I don't drive either.

So I'm looking at carpooling options. However, there is no one that I can find online that travels from Kingston to Gananoque everyday, which is what I need.

childhood magic

My favourite flower is a lilac.

When I was a kid one of the walls in my bedroom, my north wall actually, faced the backyard. My window was on that wall, and in the backyard we had a lilac tree. As soon as it was warm enough - like 15 degrees or so - I opened my window, and it stayed open until about September.

Now lilacs don't bloom for a very long time - but the time that they do bloom is my favourite time of year. This is probably why:

Because my window was always open and the lilac tree in the backyard was so near to my window, when I woke up in the late spring and early summer the first thing that I always smelt was lilacs. The wind would blow gently in pushing the curtains aside and this smell would fill my room. Sunlight would follow the smell, and I, a small girl, would be cuddled up in my covers, enjoying the sunshine and the lilacs.

It was the same at night. I would be snuggled up in covers, darkness would trickle in, and the wind would come in to say good night bringing with it the smell of lilacs.

These were my 2 favourite moments of summer. It was my little snatch of peace, and my little snatch of magic that was just mine and no one elses.

the interview

The whole process basically started yesterday when I realized that I had a job interview today and still hadn't decided what I was going to wear. Since I was so tired yesterday it took me about 3 min flat to decide.

This morning I ironed. Bloody hell I hate ironing dress pants. I understand the concept of following the crease and ironing - but somehow one side ended up being more creased then the other originally and so I had to sit down and fix it.

The interview was for President's Choice Financial and I was meeting the woman at the Loblaws in the Kingston Centre. That means I take the number 1 bus or the number 4. Well, I get on the number 1 but it's the wrong number 1. It was the one that goes by the 401. So I realized that 1 stop in. Was like shit. Got off, walked back to the bus terminal thing, got on the right number 1. Made it to the Kingston Centre early because I was super early leaving incase something went wrong.

So I'm there, at the little pavillion thing/kiosk. No one's there. My thought = This. Is. Not. Good. At 2:30 (the time the interview was suppose to start) a girl comes back in from her break. She asks me who I am. I explain the situation. She gets on the phone with the woman who's suppose to interview me, who will now be called Woman1, then hands me the phone. My thought: FML.

Woman1 to me: we're meeting at the Midland one not the one at the Kingston Centre.
My thought: Nope. I wrote it down as you were telling me on the phone last week. I am totally at the right place.
Me to Woman1 (since I need the job): I'm so sorry. We were talking about the different kiosks locations and I guess we both got confused as to which one we were meeting at.
Woman1 to me: No problem. I'll come to you.

15 min later or so, Woman1 comes in. We go upstairs and start the interview. Part way through another woman comes in, now referred to as Woman2. We get through the interview. It actually goes fairly well.

The last problem: They hire on a contract basis, the shortest contract being 3 months. If my practicum isn't in Kingston for teacher's college then they can't hire me (cause we have the first one in October). Now I have to go and demand Queens Teachers College tell me where my practicum is.

Thus, the interview.

the numbered update

1. Just finished chapter 4. Took me bloody well long enough, but it's done. I'm happy.
2. My parentals are in Holland currently and then also going to Germany. I'm jealous.
3. I have a job interview tomorrow. And I need to iron my pants.
4. Sept 1st is too close for comfort.
5. One of my wisdom teeth really hurts today for some reason.
6. I finished the in-class part of drivers ed.
7. I am so excited to curl up in bed and sleep.
8. I'm going to go and do that now.

one of the million $ questions

My old housemates and I use to watch this show called Cashmere Mafia. It only ran 7 episodes, however for those 7 weeks that it aired, the three of us raced home and nearly tackled each other to get to the tv in time to watch it.

It was a wicked show.

It was essentially about 4 powerhouse businesswomen and their lives. The show only ran 7 episodes because there was a competition show called Lipstick Jungle that was basically the same plot line but with more sex. Lipstick Jungle obviously won this competition since that show is still airing.

By the end of the second episode of Cashmere Mafia the audience finds out that the husband of one of the women has been cheating on her. This part of the plot line fueled later episodes with the basic question that is raised:

What would you do if someone cheated on you?

Would you call it quits? Get even? Ignore it? Get over it and maybe work it out?

For some reason I started thinking about that tonight. At the moment I know two different women who have two different responses to the question. And I have to admit that I don't know what I would do if I found myself in that situation.

What do you think you would do?

george michael

Confession:

I am in love with the song "faith" by George Michael.

I first heard it sung by the acappella singing group called Caledonia, at Queens Common Ground one night. Then I youtubed the song and came up with the music video.

Music video = completely fantastic and hilarious. Gotta love the 80s.

Another confession:

When my housemate isn't home I sometimes dance around the apt to this song, as well as sing it really loudly and most often out of tune.

Am I listening to it as I write this?

Of course! I'm also dancing in my chair. But I'm not singing cause my housemate is home.

I know that some of you are reading this, looking at the computer screen, shaking your head and going "oh dear. That Cait. Crazy kid."

But come on. Admit it.

You have your own song, that you dance in the kitchen or in the privacy of your room to, too.

the poptart

I have just recently been introduced to poptarts. How recently you ask? Well, about a month ago recent.

What did I eat for breakfast as a child then? Cereal sometimes (though personally I think cereal tastes best at night), sometimes toast, sometimes an apple. When I got to highschool I had ham and cheese on a toasted English muffin. The lunchladies knew me so well by the end that they always made sure that one was ready for me in the morning when I walked into the caf. We would then chat for a bit, and then I would go and run around to whatever I had going on, cause I was a kneener like that.

first year uni I wasn't up early enough for breakfast, and then at some point over the next couple of years toasted English muffins with peanut butter and bananna, or an omlette became the thing to eat.

But it was never poptarts.

However, poptarts were the thing to eat said my friend Jason, and when I was over at House Famous one day and hungry he suggested poptarts. I was incredibly skeptical, cause on tv commericals they looked kind of gross to me. But on that fateful day I had one. It was pretty good. The next time I was in Metro, I passed by them, paused, then bought a box.

I've had a box in my kitchen ever since. I burn my fingers on them taking them out of the toaster cause I just can't wait to eat them. It has become almost a staple.

Have I gone from one extreme to the other? Not knowing poptarts, to eating them ALL the time. Yes. Yes I have.

But what can I say? It's a poptart.

oh drivers ed

Yes. I am 22 and taking drivers ed. What can I say, I never did it when I was 16, and I've since decided that it is about time that I got my full drivers license.

Drivers ed however is INCREDIBLY boring. I mean there are some randomly interesting things but overall listening to someone talk for 5 hrs (oh that's right 5 hrs a day (9am-2:30pm) for 4 days is the course) about how every second counts, how you could be a smashed wreck in less than 1 second, and how if you aren't aware at every second that you're in the car you could most likely die, gets boring after the first hr or two.

I have 2 more days to go.

Also, with the driving company that I am taking, there are 2 tests worth 60%, class participation that is worth 30%, a workbook, and a group presentation. And if you don't get at least 80% on the in class portion, you fail. And then you have to take it all over again.

For the next two days I am living for 2:30.

julie & julia

As you can probably guess from the title my friend Sabrina and I went to see the movie Julie & Julia today. The movie was really good. The one feeling that it left within me at the very end though was not that I would love to start cooking, but that I wish I would love to start cooking.

Watching Julia and Julie cook in the movie is hilarious, and the things that they turn out are colourful, look wonderful and I'm sure that they tasted really good because everyone eating it really loved it, but going from the screen to my kitchen and picking up a frying pan and a pot to cook dinner in, the first thought in my head was "crap. I really do hate this."

I feel that when it comes to cooking I need some kind of intervention. I mean I'm going to have to be cooking for the rest of my life and for any family that comes along later. I mean what if one day I am responsible for the tukey at Thanksgiving? Or the Christmas roast? Or the boush at Easter? (that last one is a Polish thing - though I don't think I spelt it right). I see ahead of me a very long line of cooking adventures/fiascos and I'm starting to think that I need more than Julie & Julia to help me survive.

grief and love

so here i sit.
by myself.
the window open,
the wind flowing in,
caressing my face.
a momentary company.

the sky is grey.
the rain is coming,
and somewhere, softly
sounds a lone piper
playing a lament.

the rain begins to fall,
the piper's harmony.
and we sit and hear,
breathing it in,
remembering,
as our heart breaks.

follow the green arrows

I walked into the office. It was quiet - deathly quiet, which made me shiver slightly as this was a hospital and for all I knew death was lurking around the next corner ready to snatch some poor soul from their bed. I walked up to the desk, dug my hand into my bag and searched around for my wallet with my health card in it as the receptionist sat there waiting patiently - what can I say it's a big bag. Finally I found it, gave her my card, and answered the necessary questions showing in some kind of foolproof way that I was who I claimed to be. We created some small talk as she filled in all of my information. Finally after the admin. stuff was all sorted, filled out and filed, the kind receptionist (who mostly likely wanted to go home since it was 7 pm) pointed to the green arrows on the wall and told me to follow them. They would take me where I needed to go.

Placing my trust in the green paper taped arrows I started walking down the hallway. It was still disturbingly quiet. I walked, smiled at a woman cleaning some rooms, turned a corner, walked some more, turned another corner, walked, turned another corner and finally found the waiting room for the CT scan. The arrows had safely navigated me through the myriad of twists and turns that made up the imaging dept of KGH.

I sat down in one of the chairs in the empty waiting room, looking around a sign caught my eye making me laugh, "The technologist knows you are here, please wait here until your name is called." Apparently, I wasn't the only person who felt that this waiting room was at the end of the imaging dept world.

5 minutes later, the technologist came to get me, breaking the stifling silence. She took me to the CT room, had me lie down, put a blanket around me since it was freezing in there, and then left me to the mercy of the machine that would take countless pictures and hopefully let me know what was wrong with me.

Perhaps it was the elevation of the bed, or of the moving back and forth in and out of the machine but a wave of vertigo hit me and since the rule is DO NOT MOVE, I pinched my arm, in an attempt to cease the dizzyness, until it was all over.

The technologist came back in eventually, saying, "that wasn't so bad at all was it?"
I smiled and sat up, my arm very red and marked from where I had pinched myself for 5 minutes, "You're right, it wasn't bad at all," I replied.

She let me out of the room and I walked back through the silent hallways, still slightly dizzy, with no cell phone reception, until I found the door that led outside. Opening it, I stepped out and took a very deep breath of air, listening to the noise that somehow the hospital had been able to suck out of existence.

Tell me a story

Tell me a story the little girl said.
Not until you've gone and made your bed.
Tell me the one with the genie and 3 wishes.
Please go and finish cleaning your dishes.
What about the one of the rat flushed down the loo?
Not until you search and find your other shoe.
How about the one with the little blind mole?
Why is your sock now full of holes?
Tell me a story! A story I say!
One about a spaceship and death inducing rays!
Tell me a story! One I want to hear!
No, not until tonight's bedtime my dear.