This just cracked me up.

I realize it has been months since I've been on blogger. In fact, I would be shocked if anyone even checked this site anymore. Nonetheless, if you are in fact reading this: thank-you.

A few months ago, I submitted a rant of an article to this upcoming (?) site called rafterjumpon.com. I don't really even remember why or when I submitted something, but today found out that I was selected to be a featured "rafter". So, that's cool. I'm not sure what it means exactly, but I was told to post more stuff and stay tuned. To check out the article I submitted, you can go to:

http://www.rafterjumpon.com/view_rafters.php5?id=145

I think that I wrote this on my blog too, but whatever, check it out and give me a thumbs up on it (that's an option, don't just look at your computer and give me a thumbs up...nice, but it doesn't really help me much.)

Cheers,

nat

In addition to all of the aforementioned adventure while up at Silver Lake, I came to another realization. Lewis Black was wrong. The end of the universe is not in Houston, Texas. It is in Hanover, Ontario. (I know...I was surprised too.) In Hanover, Katie and I walked into a Mac's Milk to get a slurpee. Walking out of that Mac's Milk, we went not half a block, and...another Mac's Milk.

Is there some necessity in Hanover that requires two Mac's Milk within a 20 metre radius? Honestly, in a town of less than 7000 residents, what's the deal?

Last weekend, I went to visit Katie at the camp she is working at this summer: Silver Lake. Unfortunately, I got lost. I found a cheese factory though...and bought some cheese. However, I realized that cheese curds do not taste as good as I thought they did.


(Also, gross self-portrait!) However, I kept driving to where I thought was close to the camp.




Believe it or not, I ended up in a place called Ripley. Still lost, I called Katie.




Unfortunately, she directed me the wrong way, and I drove a little longer in the wrong direction. I did, however, end up on Drury Lane. (But, I could not find the Muffin Man...I think it's a myth.)
But, after a little more driving...and another phone call to Katie, I found her (looking very camp administratoresque).

And, goodtimes were had by all!

I realize that I have posted a great deal about birds this summer, but for some reason they keep creeping up into my life!
I was pooped on by a seagull on Saturday. There I was, just minding my own freakin' business when...plop. Right on my head, into my hair, ricocheting off of my head, onto my cheek, onto my shirt, and shorts. (What can I say? It was a lot of crap.) My cousins, who were present with me at the time, thought this was absolutely hilarious, and proceeded to call me things like "sh*@-head" and "poop face." (Very mature, you guys.)
Well, here's to less-crap-filled-days ahead!

Dear Creativity,

Please come back. I miss you. I can't remember when you left, but I would have liked at least a small warning.

I hope to see you soon.
Let me know if you are not coming back, and I will make alternative arrangements.

Yours truly,

Natalie

writing for writing's sake.

Right now, I'm dog-sitting this dog. His name is Guiness.

He is quite the party-animal.






Unfortunately, he is rather old and I'm really hoping he doesn't die this summer. That would be sad, and Melissa (room-mate #5) would be very upset as she has bonded tightly with this dog.


Anyway, Summer RAYS training was this week and Dune is back in full force. I know I will soon have new stories to tell about campers and two of the other counselors who are still ridiculously crazy teenagers, camp names: Jet and Jersey. Stay tuned for stories about their antics and the dangers of teen employment.

When I was six-years-old I decided that I wanted to become a writer "when I grew up." Now, I'm at this place of being finished my undergrad, not sure what will be coming my way next, and in a writing dry-spell. I know that my six-year-old self would be rather disappointed that I have yet to complete a novel or publish a children's book. In fact, my six-year-old self would find it unbelievably boring that most of what I have written have been newspaper articles. I'm sure she would find it a little less boring to find out that I have written quite a bit of poetry, but I don't know that she would be a big fan of the content.

In fact, I know she would be pretty disappointed that my writing hasn't been very funny. And, my eight-year-old self, well, she would be furious that I didn't run with her idea of writing a series of children's books that have to do with a self-titled character who has a tonne of misadventures.

No, they wouldn't be happy at all.

Even my fourteen-year-old self would be pretty angry that I hadn't entered more poetry contests. She won a couple, but I haven't entered any in years. Yeah, she'd be pretty upset.

My eighteen-year-old self would be slightly less upset. She was a journalist at heart. She would be proud that I was editor-in-chief of The Crown, but would also be somewhat disheartened that I have done very little creative writing while I have had so much time off.

In seeking the counsel of my younger selves, I think that the lesson here is that I need to write more. (Also, yesterday Sam said, "WHY AREN'T YOU WRITING?!?") I need to write even when I don't know what to write about or why, like I just did, right now.

Anyway, check out the size of this thing!

I love this time of the year. It's beautiful outside. I prefer it on the cooler days that we have had, but it's amazing to see the mercury rise and fall so significantly day to day.

I love almost everything about this time of the year, except for the birds that swoop at my head. I can't figure out what kind of birds they are, but they dive at my head every time I get out of my car. I have almost been hit four times in the past two days. The only word that I can think of for that is ridiculous. I have a scheme thought up that includes a tennis racket and potentially a hose or pressure washer. These birds must go.

Once upon a time, I took a course with Gideon Strauss. He taught me this fantastic word: zeitgeist. In essence, zeitgeist refers to a spirit of the times. The literal translation from the German, zeit meaning "time" (or tide) and geist meaning "spirit" (or ghost).

With that bit of foreknowledge, I can't help but believe that there is an element of direction, the zeitgeist of my generation, that is bringing together musical production and real-life. In December, I posted a blog entitled "If Life Were a Musical". I knew other people loved musicals, that was no surprise, but after posting that and discussing the idea with various people, I came to realize that other people think it would be incredible for life to have the characteristics of a musical.

Now, this wasn't entirely shocking, however, I soon started to find others who would randomly sing pieces of musical selection in their daily lives as a response to a question or comment (as I often do).

Still, this was not what convinced me of the zeitgeist factor. It wasn't until two days ago when I saw a facebook group that a friend of mine had joined called, Why Yes, I Do Frequently Burst Out in Song. This group's description is as follows:

Do you ever walk into the grocery store and wish that you could just start singing, and everyone in the grocery store would just fall in behind singing and dancing the exact same as you are?
When talking to people, do you constantly think of song titles with every other sentence they say?

I couldn't help but feel strangely connected. And then I noticed that this group has over 145, 000 members. Another affiliate facebook group is called, And WHY Can't My Life Be a Musical? Again this group holds over 54, 200 members. At present, there are almost 400 of this type of group on facebook alone.

That is not just a few people with a common idea; it is a movement. A musical movement of like-minded people who have the same desire to incorporate musical production numbers into everyday life. This may sound ridiculous, but nonetheless, it has a huge following. And, I can't help but believe that it is, in part, a result of the spirit of our times.

What a strange and slightly disturbing trend.

Saturday was my official first day of a new part-part-time job with a marketing company. It is much like another job I have had in the past: we promote a product, give away free stuff, and deal with stupid people. Nothing overly difficult.

Saturday, I did a promotion at the Blue Jays game. They won. If you like baseball, you would have considered it a pretty good game. It was a normal shift of doing that kind of work, however, I did have a couple of interesting run-ins with drunk people.

One such highlight involved me being approached by a group of four guys who liked the t-shirts we were giving away. Each of them had been drinking, one was more enthusiastic about the beer he had been drinking than the game he was watching. They asked about the product, and about the free t-shirt, and they actually signed up for the product.

Following that process, the drunkest guy of all, asked me if I would be interested in comparing my nipples with his. I politely replied, "No." However, he proceeded to show me his. After which, he realized that was neither drunk, nor vaguely interested, and he then decided to find a new target: a very unassuming girl who was just waiting for the restroom. As this, his second attempt failed, his lesser drunk friends saved him from what could have been a very long and unrewarding pursuit.

I've been giving a great deal of thought lately to the First Nations land disputes in Caledonia and, now, in Hagersville. At first glance, it reminded me of the horrible spiraling-out-of-control that took place at Ipperwash. (And, as a kid that grew up in Sarnia, Ipperwash was definitely something that we felt resonate throughout the community.)

As the Caledonia dispute wages on, a new one has popped onto the local map. Hagersville has become the most recent hot zone. The masses of non-First Nations people in the areas surrounding Caledonia and Hagersville are rather upset about these two land claims (to put it nicely). The First Nations people, (who, without a doubt were given the short end of the stick by the government in past decades), feel justified in their actions.

The obvious question, then, that causes debates to arise and tempers to soar is:
who is right?

Should the First Nations people be allowed to reclaim these areas of land? What becomes of the people that currently own the land? Is it their fault that the government screwed over the First Nations people so many years ago? How do we remedy these issues justly and peaceably?

All of these questions I have wrestled with for over a year now as the land claim dispute wages on.

Now, in Hagersville, this issue is re-ignited. More fuel is added to an already tense fire that Caledonians and others in the surrounded area have been living in for the past year and a half. Native land claims on a new development have caused further protests. Hagersville lies almost directly between Ancaster/Hamilton West Mountain and Port Dover, and as the summer season is upon us, there are obvious concerns. Port Dover being the "beach of choice" for many residents need to go through Hagersville to get there. If beach traffic is halted, more tempers will rise.
The Hagersville dispute causes a domino-effect that falls into a hot-bed of other issues: re-raised claims of the 1/2 mile land claim on either side of the Grand River; problems communicating with the Canadian government; unsettled people on both sides of the dispute; and an disunited front amongst the Six Nations leaders. Kate Harries, a Globe and Times reporter writes:

One of the difficulties at Six Nations is a blurred division of responsibilities - with the traditional Confederacy chiefs handling negotiations to end the 15-month Caledonia dispute, and elected Chief David General and a divided council handling administration.

With all of these things in mind (and many that this young writer has no clue of), one can imagine the intense mix of emotions and growing impatience on both sides of the dispute.

There is another issue in this manner that I have been thinking about rather a lot.
One question that has been asked very little of, and one that I now have questioned is:
how has this effected not only the relations between First Nations and non-First Nations, but also, how has this effected the children in the surrounding areas?

I have heard stories from teachers in the Caledonia area that note the obvious division between First Nation and non-First Nation children. Young children who already discriminate based on race from an early age. (White/Black/Asian/Hispanic) Parents who don't let their kids associate with First Nation kids...what the heck is that? What are we teaching our children? How has this land claim dispute defaced the Canadian mosaic?

We need to be conscious of how our words and actions effect children. There is no clear-cut answer in this dispute. (If there were, it would have been over a year ago.) However, there is a protocol that we, as moral Canadians, should follow when it comes to such issues:
to seek justice in each situation; to be honest; to be fair; and to resolve issues showing that both sides have been given equal consideration.

What this looks like in the end, I don't know; however, I do know that it doesn't come out with a younger generation that has racist sentiments against the First Nations people.

Those are just my thoughts. I'd love to hear yours.

As of Saturday I am officially a graduate of Redeemer University College. All day, I've been humming the song "What Do You Do With a B.A. in English?" from Avenue Q. For those of you who are not familiar with the song, the words are as follows:

What do you do with a B.A. in English,
What is my life going to be?
Four years of college and plenty of knowledge,
Have earned me this useless degree.

I can't pay the bills yet,
'Cause I have no skills yet,
The world is a big scary place.

But somehow I can't shake,
The feeling I might make,
A difference,
To the human race.


Well anyway, if you have a B.A. in English (or pretty much any other B.A. in something that has very few practical uses), I know you can relate. However, I'm not entirely freaking out yet. I have a couple of jobs right now and will be working Summer RAYS again this summer. I'm working a promotional job right now with a communications company that I just got hired to this past Friday. As for utilizing my English degree, I know that it is not a lost cause.
I'm looking forward to see what comes my way. (As I apply for anything and everything that relates to my field.) I'll keep you posted.

So, somehow, there are now 9 of us in this house, with the occasional 10 as we have people staying over almost every night. It seems as though we adequately named this house last year when we dubbed it The Hostel. There is always someone coming and going and it kind of feels like a bunkhouse at summer camp.
Last night, as there are 4 people who now live in the basement, I wanted to stay up to read. There were two people sleeping in the living room, which is attached to the kitchen, which is attached to everything else. So, I sat in a chair near the sliding glass window, not wanting to turn the light on and wake up anyone, and used the light from outside to read. Summer camp-living is fine for about a week, but it has been almost 2.
I enjoy the people I live with, but I'm aching for my own space. In reality, I'm not working right now and can have some quiet time during the day, but it's just that the space is not mine. In fact, besides my car, I have no space that is "my space." (I feel like an angst-ridden teen in my parents home!)
Anyway, this is done.

Come visit the Hostel. We take everybody. Enjoy your stay.

I wrote the final exam of my undergraduate degree tonight. I must admit, it is kind of funny that it was Environmental Science 101 -- a class that I had to take at my wonderful liberal arts university in order to graduate. I drove home. Went into my house -- very much a student house -- and realized that this is really it.

Now, don't get me wrong, I am ecstatic to be done school, or rather, my undergrad (I'm not really sure yet if I am done school). It feels incredible to say that I am done. The thought of it helps me to realize the new lease that I really have on life. I have no solid plans for my future, and though it is kind of scary, it is also amazing.

I am a blank slate and God is holding a piece of chalk waiting to draw my future when He is ready. Well, I know I'm ready for Him to start drawing, but at the same time, I am excited not knowing.

In the midst of this finality, I went house hunting with my to be new house-mate Laura Stewart (henceforth, to be referred to as Stewie). In a search that was interesting for different reasons...let's just say we met some interesting people, Stewie and I found a place within the first couple of hours of hunting. So, if all things work out, I will be living in Kilkenny Castle (it had us at the name) within the next couple of months.

I guess I kind of diverged from the topic there for a minute, but in regards to the future, I'm pretty excited. I mean, I know that God's going to provide for me in some way. It may take a lot of work, but I'm excited and I know He knows what is best for me. (Even when I think that I do.)

Tonight, before my last exam, my room-mate Emily and I were talking about one of our favourite little youtube features at the moment: Charlie the Unicorn. At one point, one of the really dumb unicorns says (in a drugged-out, high-pitched voice), "Charlie...Charlie....Charlie, we're on a bridge, Charlie." And, as we often do, Em and I were mimicking this, and Emily, (in a mocking-philosophical tone that she adopts quite often), said, "We are on a bridge...a bridge between being students and being done. And tonight as we finish our exams, we cross over that bridge to the other side."

Oh, Em. Funny kid. But, here I am...on the other side.

I was driving back to Sarnia from Hamilton and took these pictures from the driver's seat. Some people talk on cell phones when they drive, I take pictures. :)

I realize that I am one of the last people in the world to join facebook, and I am okay knowing that. For the past year (at least), I have resisted the temptation to join the online web of people and faces from my past and present. I stood strong through the interesting photos that I have heard about of parties, gatherings, and other events. I stood strong through the avid talk of wall-to-wall posting. I even stood strong knowing that there were social events being planned specifically through facebook.

Until two days ago.

At last, I broke. I gave in. I caved. I, Natalie J. Armstrong, have thrown in the towel and joined the facebook community. And, I love it.

Seriously, there is a strangely addictive quality to having people (even people you see everyday) write on your wall, comment on your pictures, and join groups. Instead of talking to "real people" over the past few days, I have had my eyes glued to this ridiculous computer and to a wall of virtual representations of my friends.

Now, the benefits of F-book are that some people I haven't seen in quite awhile or can't see because they live so friggin' far away are able to get in touch with me and me with them. Love it. Great idea.

However, there are a lot of them, and my day needs to be divided between real people and virtual(ly and rarely seen) people. So, thoughts on not being addicted to Facebook: seriously, don't join to begin with, but if you cave like me, don't waste your hours on it, find a happy medium.

I'm curious though, why F-book is so interesting to people; I mean, yes there is the obvious, connecting with people from your past, getting to know some people that live far away better, but I think there is something else. Similar to the MSN phenomenon, F-book allows people to interact behind the guise of a computer. Posting photos and leaving ridiculous (and sometimes very out-of-character) comments is very easy. It allows the introverts to be expressive without fear of embarrassment. F-book allows everyone to open their lives no matter how shy they may be in an actual face-to-face conversation.

Why do I love F-book? I haven't a clue. I could just say, I have an addictive personality that can't shake something like this all that quickly, but that may not be the truth. I love it because I'm a social person and it is just another way to interact with people. It is easy. It requires little effort. It is a social gathering for the ADHD generation.

That's why we love it.