Old Sock Drawer

a story to tell, a novel you keep in a drawer

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#055: The return of the mad hatter

March 25th, 2009 by Mary Leong

Currently listening to: some trumpet major practicing études

After a record 11 days of not blogging, I am back in the blogosphere, having been driven sufficiently mad by the past week-and-a-bit’s onslaught of papers/schoolwork and elections and work and well, life in general. It never ceases to amaze me how tiring just…being awake…can be. Suffice to say, my brains are quite frazzled, as are my nerves, and so as I hide out in the Music library, listening to the soothing (?) tones of trumpeting trumpeteers, I’ll do my best to remain coherent. So here goes nothing.

Arts One is pushing me to the brink slowly but surely – the menagerie of Indian-themed books we’ve had piled upon us this whole semester has been in a word, insane. Too much of a good thing can become a very tiring thing, such that any break at all from Indian literature is a huge relief. Which is why Walcott’s poetry, and Survival in Auschwitz, have been so incredibly welcome. For future reference, following up The Satanic Verses with ghazals and A Passage to India after having thrown in Gandhi and The Home and the World and random poetry packages is really not a good idea. As most of us stew in our own ennui and plow through the nth essay on colonial rule and Britain and India, I think there’s a general build-up of frustration and dare I say, boredom. While we’re at it, as much as I’m completely for reading books outside of the Western literary canon, I don’t see why we’re limiting it to Indian literature. It would be absolutely wonderful if we could’ve delved into Middle Eastern writings, not to mention South American books, or even aboriginal/First Nations tales and other such. In any case, we’ve only one book left – The Intimate Enemy, and yes, it too is about India in colonial times – so somehow, we’ll make it through (and pick the essay topic on Walcott).

In other news, French Club elections are over, and as in-house nut/social coordinator (which gives me a bulletproof excuse for being eleventy thousand times more enthusiastic about everything) for the upcoming year, I’m quite excited about all the great fun that ’09/’10 shall bring in due time *rubs hands in wicked glee and tosses blue white and red confetti* in other words, CREPES AND LITERATURE AND CREPES AND HATS AND CREPES AND ~FRENCHY THINGS~ !!!

Sorry. Was the nuttiness showing again?

Anyhow, work-wise, Indigo is great as usual. I’ve quit my position as a page at the library; instead, I am now reading to small children and it is the most amazing and rewarding thing ever. I mean, seriously, how many jobs do you get to act your shoe size and read Scaredy Squirrel Makes A Friend complete with HAND ACTIONS AND FUNNY VOICES? Seriously. The kids are absolutely great, too; they’re all so enthusiastic and happy and untainted by life. God, I wish I were six again. It’s frightening to think that I’ll be turning nineteen this year and twenty the next and grow old. Meanwhile I’ll just live vicariously through the ‘ickle ones, and books like Where’s My Sock? (great book, by the way, the psychedelic illustrations look like they were painted by someone completely tripped out on cotton candy.)

Well it’s still only 2.45 p.m. I’m going to be here till 7 p.m. tonight, sigh. then busing home, hooray. hopefully something ridiculous happens on the bus, such as the re-emergence of Vegetable Sandwich Man, or Celtic Music Guy.

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