Monthly Archives: April 2007

What’s new,

…you may ask. I received a phone call yesterday from a government (I honestly can’t remember if it was federal or provincial, because really, they’re both after me) agency, informing me that my student loan has now defaulted. They want all their money back, now.

So what does that mean? Frankly, I don’t know. I don’t have any to give them. The Man and I are both ruminating on what to do about this, and while it was very upsetting yesterday, today I am far more focused on getting the dresses for the dancers finished before tomorrow night, and working on my two costumes for next Saturday night’s opera concert.

After much consideration, and a trip to the fabric store with my mum, I know what I’m wearing next weekend. It’s this one:
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We found this fabulous satin – cheap! – in this vibrant, really saturated jewel-blue, somewhere between royal blue and purple. Not quite purple, just almost purple. It’s lovely. I am so looking forward to making and wearing it!

In the wake of the phone call, you may ask yourself: “Is it wise to buy fabric for insensible dresses?” Well, yes and no. The fact is, at this point, less than $100 one way or the other isn’t making any difference to the people who want to be repaid. That sort of reasoning would certainly cause a great deal of fiscal irresponsibility, but for the purposes of the concert? Not so much. Also, my mommy felt badly for me, and treated me. Thanks MOM!!

Now, I have many hours of sewing to finish. I’d love – love! – to get two dresses finished today. I’m really looking forward to making my Papagena costume. It’s just going to be playing with tulle and feathers, and really, who doesn’t like that?!

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It’s fun to stay up late and write posts!

I know, I’ve been rather silent lately. But I have been so. busy. Sewing for about 6-plus hours a day, with some sort of rehearsal almost every day. I’ve been finding time to check out other blogs, read disturbing and abhorrent news stories, and check my email, but not to compose posts. Forgive me. Since my last post was all heavy and serious, this one will not be.

Tuesday was my nephew’s birthday! He’s a big boy of 1. His birthday party was Saturday.
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He’s such a cutie.

Weather here has been we-ird! This time last week, we were surrounded by snow, following a heavy snowstorm of wet, enormous flakes. It was insane. It was gross. It was late April! By Friday, the weather was so lovely, people were in shorts and sandals, driving around with the windows down, screen doors on houses were open, patios were crammed. Of course, with all my rehearsing and sewing, I enjoyed most of it in a purely theoretical sense: I was glad that it was so nice out, even if I couldn’t be out myself. I managed to snag a half-hour outside in the sun on Sunday afternoon, studying my Habanera. So lovely.

Just over a week until the opera. Ack! I’m still not sure what I’m wearing for it. Maybe the red one? Or make something new? Maybe this one (6401, bottom left)? Or this one? Hrm. Either way, cheap is the name of the game. Thank goodness for Fiscal Year End pre-Inventory sales on fabric!

Oh! There has been a change to one of my progress bars (knitting has not been happening lately. When I have spare time, I’m don’t want to partake of more fiber arts). The Birthday Scarf for The Man was at about 75% complete, right? And now it’s at 0.2% complete. I bit the bullet (where did that phrase come from, anyway?) and frogged it. It was just too short, and there was no way around it. So the 0.2%? I’ve cast on a bunch of stitches, hopefully about 800. I don’t know. I haven’t counted yet. I’ve cast them on, and someday, I will be awake enough at the end of the day, or have some free time in the middle of the day, to count them.

I have an interview next Thursday. Any and all job-getting vibes would be very welcome! It’s for a position in the fundraising department of Citizens for Public Justice. Advocacy, NGO, socially conscious work; I so terribly want this job!

And look what I helped make!!

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I often wonder, “What compels people to say and do and write the things they do?” In the wake of the violence of April 16 at Virginia Tech, I find myself not only wondering, but angry. Very angry.

The student who did the killing (everyone seems to feel it necessary to point out that he was South Korean, but he and his parent immigrated to the United States when he was 9 years old, so really, what difference does it make?) was erroneously linked to his first victim, Emily Hilscher, with suggestions made by various news media that they had some form of relationship, and that it was a falling out between them which led to his homicidal rampage. Despite the fact that there was no evidence to support this theory, it was widely reported.

One Canadian journalist has issued an apology for his part in the misrepresenting of the facts behind Emily Hilscher’s violent murder. Admirable enough, to be sure, that he would so freely and vehemently admit his error and offence to the memory of Hilscher and all the victims at Virginia Tech. But his apology for his inaccuracy doesn’t excuse the larger offence in all this aftermath.

Headlines have read: “Was it an obsession with Emily that drove gunman to kill?” “Was gunman crazed over Emily?” and have featured pictures of her bright, young face followed by the statement: “This is the face of the teenage student who may have sparked the biggest gun massacre in US history.” The rhetoric in these headlines, in these statements, is that somehow, someway, the female victim is implicit in this violence. Something she did, something she said, something she wore, or some glance or gesture must have caused this highly disturbed, and historically psychiatrically treated individual to snap, and led to the 32 deaths, 20 injuries, and terror and sorrow of April 16.

How is this acceptable? How, how can anyone still, in this age of “equality” and “women’s liberation” and “political correctness” think that it is in any way a valid argument that in some small way, the initial victim of Cho’s madness was to blame. Such rhetoric is of the same variety as the argument that a rape victim is implicit in her attack by wearing a short skirt, or stilettos, or that the victim of spousal abuse shouldn’t have “talked back” at her drunken, violent partner, thus “forcing” him to beat her unconscious; the “Why do you make me do this to you?” argument in it’s finest. How, I ask you, can any person with any shred of decency believe that any person, male or female, could actually “drive” someone to the acts of April 16?

That Thane Burnett apologised for his error, I appreciate. But the greater, more fundamental, and far more distressing issue is not the erroneous subject matter, but the readiness of media to accept and perpetuate the belief that women have some strange, illusory, and powerful methods of beguilment by which we drive men insane and lead them to mass murder. The overwhelming and enduring reign of the patriarchal bias of the media is enough to make a person weep in disbelief.

Emily Hilscher is a victim of one man’s violent and homicidal inclinations: nothing more. Whether she knew him in life, or not, whether or not she ever had cause to speak with him, share a classroom with him, or sit at the same cafeteria table with him, she had no part in her own murder, nor the murder of her fellow students.

This woman was a victim. Look it up. If you want to blame her, try looking up “misogynistic pig”. Don’t be surprised to find your portrait.

God in heaven, I am so upset by this.

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Suit yourself

How do you lose pants? Specifically, half a suit? Because I can’t find my suit pants, and if I do, by some miracle, get that job interview, I will need to wear my suit.

If you see a pair of navy chalk-stripe pants kickin’ around, would you let me know?
I really liked those pants.

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I knit faster in my sleep

I had a dream about knitting last night. I think I frogged my lace stocking, and reknit it. And at an impressive speed.

I must miss knitting more than I thought. I haven’t done any knitting in a while. Too much sewing, job-hunting, opera rehearsing, stressing, and not enough available yarn (read: no income with which to buy more yarn).

I have applied for a job off that job-listing board I found. Still haven’t heard anything, and I’m trying to be optimistic, but it’s hard to find optimism without also bringing blind and disappointing hope along for the ride. We shall see.

I’ve got to go do some laundry. The Man is playing a gig at a coffeehouse and he has me singing a piece with him, so I need something – anything! – to wear.

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After another day on the floor

As anticipated, the kidlets started to tire of us last night. They did very, very well, but an hour of artsong and opera, all in original text, and thus, not in English, was a little much for them, though they did seem to enjoy it. To give them a break from all the sitting still, Misty and I sang our Delibes duet while walking laps around the gym. The song is about a walk in a garden, so we “walked in the garden” with the kids. A few slight collisions (when you tell five year-olds to “walk” they often interpret that to mean “run like a mad-man”) and some guessing at tempo when we were 20 metres away from – and so, couldn’t hear – the piano, but it was fun. I tend to wander in circles when I’m rehearsing at home, anyway, so it worked out fine for me.

Picked up fabric for two more dresses (I’m pretty sick of plaid at this point) as well as some black brocade for my gown for the concert. It was half-off, which is always nice. I’m still not entirely sure it’s what I want for the show – I’d really prefer to get some lace yardage, but it’s usually horrendously expensive, and I just can’t justify it.

Wembley is barking. I have done such a bad job raising my dog to be well-behaved. Meh. I love her; other people don’t have to!

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Aww, bye-bye Belinda!

Looks like we’ll have one less over-privileged, floor-crossing, hockey-goon-dating, single-motherhood-issue-obfuscating politician to enjoy next time around.

That’s a shame. There were so many shots at her expense in Savoy’s Iolanthe. Some other riding will have to elect someone for whom the jokes are so plentiful.

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