As psychologists suggest, 40% of the joy derived in most things comes from pure anticipation of it. I can’t wait for the other 60% of fun from the approaching C*C Winter Retreat. Last year, I slept a combined four hours on Friday and Saturday night, and had loads of fun being silly in the pool and sharing good conversation with a lovely group of people. Crystal and I have tried fruitlessly to come up with a decent prank for the retreat, and I suspect that our efforts may be trumped by the guys’ shenanigans. My parents are going away as well this weekend for a skiing trip with their small group; when I grow up, I want to go skiing with my small group and stay in a Bed and Breakfast. Consequently, my poor little baby sister will be left at home all by her lonesome self. Jess is in the middle of exams at the moment, so perhaps it’s good that my silly family won’t be here to distract her, though I do kind of wish that I could bring her along to the retreat with me; she will certainly be dragged along next year. Although I will miss Jess very much over the weekend, I will miss Jack Layton perhaps even more. Jacky Jack is coming to Edmonton tonight for the federal nomination of my riding of Edmonton-Strathcona, but I’ll be en route to Camp Nakamun by the time he rolls in. This is truly tragic; I missed his last visit as well, although my uncle was there to greet him. My uncle bears an incredible resemblance to Jack Layton, and so whenever he attends these sort of rallies, people ask him if he’s Mr. Layton’s brother. This pleases me immensely. I’m pretty much the niece of Jack Layton’s pseudo-brother; very few things in life are cooler than being the niece of Jack Layton’s pseudo-brother. While I’m not sure if I’ll vote Grits or NDP in the likely election this spring, no leader has the integrity and hopefulness of the white-moustachioed Jack and his fabulous wife Olivia Chow (who Rob, tragically, has never heard of in his life). It’s alright though, because Andrew has promised to imitate the esteemed NDP leader and discuss socialism with me tonight. Andrew is a good friend to be sure.
On the topic of Andrew, I would like to plead for all you C*Cers to be kind to the C*C Courier today when it’s released. This publication has been mired in an insanely unfortunate series of events, and it’s a miracle that it’s being printed off today looking decently pretty. The articles, however, are quite splendid, and I’m impressed by the quality of the writing and thought in the group. I promise that future editions will be attractive and more time-appropriate. Also, please refrain from mocking the cutesiness and predictability of the newsletter’s name. My small group found The C*C Courier to be a perfect target for slurs and abuse, and while I wish the name had a bit more panache and wittiness to it, it was the result of much deliberation and compromise to ensure that the title actually described what the publication was about, and that it wasn’t an entirely abstract name. The sad thing is that it’s difficult to change the name after one copy has gone to press, so we’ll have to make do with the Courier for a while. Also unfortunate is the cold that I have acquired. I slept quite poorly last night due to the combination of shopping with Crystal, Grey’s Anatomy, The Office, The OC, an assignment due today, and newsletter madness to figure out, and this has apparently resulted in the sniffles. Of course, a cold is nothing to be upset about, as they usually fade away soon enough and don’t cause too much pain, but I fear that I’ll have to sleep a substantial amount this weekend in order to combat the little viruses that have found their way into my system. I quite thoroughly despise sleeping when fun things are going on, but c’est la vie I suppose. My green tea consumption and abstention from sweets has apparently not held sickness at bay, although I did last for at least a few weeks with good health. Hopefully the absence of work this week will allow me to recuperate sufficiently before Break Forth. In a very awkward segue, my break has now come to an end, so I’m off to class! Please note how short this entry is, Caitlin. I hope you’re proud.
As psychologists suggest, 40% of the joy derived in most things comes from pure anticipation of it. I can’t wait for the other 60% of fun from the approaching C*C Winter Retreat. Last year, I slept a combined four hours on Friday and Saturday night, and had loads of fun being silly in the pool and sharing good conversation with a lovely group of people. Crystal and I have tried fruitlessly to come up with a decent prank for the retreat, and I suspect that our efforts may be trumped by the guys’ shenanigans. My parents are going away as well this weekend for a skiing trip with their small group; when I grow up, I want to go skiing with my small group and stay in a Bed and Breakfast. Consequently, my poor little baby sister will be left at home all by her lonesome self. Jess is in the middle of exams at the moment, so perhaps it’s good that my silly family won’t be here to distract her, though I do kind of wish that I could bring her along to the retreat with me; she will certainly be dragged along next year. Although I will miss Jess very much over the weekend, I will miss Jack Layton perhaps even more. Jacky Jack is coming to Edmonton tonight for the federal nomination of my riding of Edmonton-Strathcona, but I’ll be en route to Camp Nakamun by the time he rolls in. This is truly tragic; I missed his last visit as well, although my uncle was there to greet him. My uncle bears an incredible resemblance to Jack Layton, and so whenever he attends these sort of rallies, people ask him if he’s Mr. Layton’s brother. This pleases me immensely. I’m pretty much the niece of Jack Layton’s pseudo-brother; very few things in life are cooler than being the niece of Jack Layton’s pseudo-brother. While I’m not sure if I’ll vote Grits or NDP in the likely election this spring, no leader has the integrity and hopefulness of the white-moustachioed Jack and his fabulous wife Olivia Chow (who Rob, tragically, has never heard of in his life). It’s alright though, because Andrew has promised to imitate the esteemed NDP leader and discuss socialism with me tonight. Andrew is a good friend to be sure.
On the topic of Andrew, I would like to plead for all you C*Cers to be kind to the C*C Courier today when it’s released. This publication has been mired in an insanely unfortunate series of events, and it’s a miracle that it’s being printed off today looking decently pretty. The articles, however, are quite splendid, and I’m impressed by the quality of the writing and thought in the group. I promise that future editions will be attractive and more time-appropriate. Also, please refrain from mocking the cutesiness and predictability of the newsletter’s name. My small group found The C*C Courier to be a perfect target for slurs and abuse, and while I wish the name had a bit more panache and wittiness to it, it was the result of much deliberation and compromise to ensure that the title actually described what the publication was about, and that it wasn’t an entirely abstract name. The sad thing is that it’s difficult to change the name after one copy has gone to press, so we’ll have to make do with the Courier for a while. Also unfortunate is the cold that I have acquired. I slept quite poorly last night due to the combination of shopping with Crystal, Grey’s Anatomy, The Office, The OC, an assignment due today, and newsletter madness to figure out, and this has apparently resulted in the sniffles. Of course, a cold is nothing to be upset about, as they usually fade away soon enough and don’t cause too much pain, but I fear that I’ll have to sleep a substantial amount this weekend in order to combat the little viruses that have found their way into my system. I quite thoroughly despise sleeping when fun things are going on, but c’est la vie I suppose. My green tea consumption and abstention from sweets has apparently not held sickness at bay, although I did last for at least a few weeks with good health. Hopefully the absence of work this week will allow me to recuperate sufficiently before Break Forth. In a very awkward segue, my break has now come to an end, so I’m off to class! Please note how short this entry is, Caitlin. I hope you’re proud.
1 comment:
Hey Cait,
Sorry for not discussing socialist issues with during the retreat. You will have to take a rain check and we will talk about this another time! Thanks for all the help on the Courier - and as an aside it is a most splendid name!
Well see ya round,
Andrew
Post a Comment