Carbon Monoxide strikes again!

Installing a carbon monoxide detector in your car can prevent tragedies like this.
(that, and not falling asleep in public places)

Identity.

A couple weeks ago, some time during the Christmas break, I was talking to my ex on MSN. She was blabbering about how she wanted to so badly go on a vacation, how she wanted to get away from the familiar and find herself. When I hear people say, "I need to find myself." I cringe. I cringe because while it's true that they are in need of finding something, it isn't their self they need to find. What they're in search of is meaning; a semblance of ambition, drive, and or understanding to their meaningless, club-hopping, pill-popping, cock-sucking, ass-kissing lives. Those people who go away to Europe and Asian or where ever the fuck it is those assholes go to "backpack" don't realize they have an identity. To be able to "leave your life" (another phrase I'm dubious of) and on a JetsGo! flight and backpack through a country gives you an identity. You are privileged. You will NEVER see a child from those Help-The-Children-Christian-Fund-morning-show-guiltfests, which by the way are strategically placed after children's cartoons, saying in their native tongue while the translators voice, British accented of course, speaks over theirs, "Help me find who I am!"
.....This is not to say that if you're poor your identity is poor. That would be classist, and I'm not that kind of asshole. What this is saying is that those people who have the need to go away and find themselves are wasteful, ignorant, and self-centered. Why not give that money to someone who needs it? That'll give you an identity. You'll be a philanthropist! Doesn't THAT sound better than asshole tourist backpacker?
.....And how is anyway that you can go away and find yourself? I never understood that shit. Aren't you who you are the most in the surroundings that you spend the greater part of your life in? How does getting on a plane, being a tourist, risking getting body lice from staying in youth hostiles endow one with a sense of centeredness, completion, and self-understanding? And why backpack through Europe or Asia? Be adventurous! Backpack through Iraq!
.....Anyway, the reason why I'm writing this is to A) bag on the vacuousness of my Ex-girlfriend and the people like her and B) tell you a little story about York University, while at the same time find the answer to the age old question, What kind of asshole am I?
.....SO. I'm a 4th year student in a program where the end is a vanishing point, a speck wayyyyyyyyyyyyyyy off in the distance. I'm enrolled in a first year "Introduction to Computer Usage" course. Obviously I know how to use a computer, but since the education system likes to take an approach to education akin to killing an ant with an anvil, I am forced to fulfill this "general education" requirement. If you're anyway in the same mindset as I was before I took this class you must think this is a bird course. It should be, but it isn't.
.....On the first day of class the professor came in, late 30 minutes, and said, "Welcome to COSC 1960 English." English? I said, turning to this guy Amr I met last year in Philosophy. he shrugged and smiled. I put my hand up, and before he could say, "Yes. The handsome young man in the back." I blurted out, "This isn't an English class. This is a computers class." The prof. retorted, "Yes, it is English COSC 1960" I was taken aback, "NO it's not." The MILF and her equally attractive daughter a few rows down turned around and said, "Yes it is." It was a fucking conspiracy.
.....Just then the professor corrected himself, "I am sorry. This is Introduction to Computer Usage 1960, in English. There is a French course as well. I am sorry, I am a little confused. My brother has died."
.....The class collectively sighed in pathos for him. I felt like an asshole.
.....For the next hour he went on to explain the course. He told us that the class as a whole last year received too many A's and he decided as well as was asked to make the class more difficult. Below is a list of how the class was made more difficult.

1. NO text book.
2. NO readings that would help with the assignments.
3. NO syllabus offered to the entire class, you would have to ask him for one and he would produce one for you the next class.
4. NO handouts for any assignments to clarify what it is that he wants for each.
5. HEAVY work with excel formulas.
6. THERE would be a specific way in which Professor Janta wanted the assignments formatted for handing in, but we were never given a handout and were only given verbal instruction in the SECOND LAST WEEK OF CLASS.
7. LESS than 50 percent of assignments would be handed back for some.
8. NO calculators or "electronics" allowed turing tests.

Much of this list we didn't know until well into the course. He didn't tell us it would be like this, it just happened.

.....The next week after the first class we didn't have a class as Professor Janta went to Poland to put his brother in the ground, but the week after we did. The Prof's teaching style was horrible, but I attributed that to the loss of his brother. I let it slide. Weeks later, the course was still shittily taught.
.....By the exam I was livid. The week before I had left the class during a test to see if I could find the Department Chair. I did, I sat and spoke with her, test in hand about the course. She took a look at the test and tried to explain what it is that Professor Janta wanted. I told her, "I don't want it know what he wants here. This test is not fair. If I need someone to explain it to me, it isn't fair." Essentially the test was a math test. Being an English/Creative Writing Double Major every bone in my body was telling me it was math, not computers. PhDer Mariana Kant, the Department Chair, agreed with me that it was unfair. I told her that the course was also unfair, she then told me that many others had complained to the same notion. She suggested that I write a formal complaint and e-mail it to her. I did. And here it is.

Hello Mariana,

I came in to speak to you on the subject of Prof. Martin Janta this past Monday evening. This e-mail is my formal complain against Professor Janta. I have been very patient, but I feel that I am not receiving my due in terms of how Professor Janta handles the class COSC 1960 Introduction to Computers Usage. My complaint will be broken down into three areas: Class Structure, Coverage of Material, and finally the Assignments and Evaluations.

Class Structure.

.....At the beginning of the year we were given no syllabus. I have had classes before wherein there was no syllabus given, but in Prof. Janta's class there is no syllabus as well as no structure whatsoever. We were given no readings to deal with course material on our own time, the readings that we do have are from the internet and Professor Janta proceeds to read them in class as if we are unable of going on the internet, with url in hand, and reading them for ourselves! It's condescending as well as time consuming. Readings are meant for after class, not during. It seems that professor Janta has no organization, and this very much evident in the assignments, but that will be explained later. As well as being unorganized, there is an "optional" lab segment of the class. I say "optional" because there isn't enough room to accommodate the entire class. We are paying for an education, why can't we have the proper facilities? If Glendon's labs are too small, then why have such high enrolment?

Coverage of Material.

.....The material that Professor Janta presents seems to be randomly picked before classes. There is no continuity, and this year he has jumped between covering aspects of Excel and aspects of Word. I am quite adept with using a computer so I can follow, but there are people in the class that just do not have the experience. This is after all an Introduction to Computers Usage course, it should be accessible, it should cater to novices as well as those who know their way around a computer and are simply trying to fulfill a general education requirement. At the beginning of the year Professor Janta made it known that last year there were too many students achieving A's and A+'s so he was asked/decided to make the class harder. It seems to me that he's made the class harder by being vague about assignments, spending time on the simplest of notions while breezing through complex subjects, and not supplying adequate textual references that we can use to supplement and enforce lectures. At the beginning of the year Professor Janta told us that we wouldn’t have a text book. I was quite happy to hear that because it would save me some money. By the middle of the year, however, I wished for a text. Professor Janta promised the he would give us links to web pages for our readings. The only link we were given was www.howstuffworks.com We were given that website, and while it is a fine website, it had nothing to do with our assignments and helped us very little in understanding what it was that Professor Janta was attempting to teach.

Assignments and Evaluations.

.....This is especially why I am fearful for my GPA. I have worked very hard to get where I am, and I do not want my grades to be tarnished by an Introduction to Computers course. I took this course to fulfill a general education requirement; I did not expect to be performing complex mathematics without the aid of a calculator. I am a Creative Writing/English Honours Double Major, so math is not my strong suit. Regardless, on to my complaints about the assignments. Since my complaints in this section are many, I will subdivide them for clarity.

.....Firstly, as I'm sure Professor Janta thinks that these assignments are simple, which some of them are, there are some that are beyond challenging, and other that are in my opinion useless. When will I ever employ the calculation of binary, hexadecimal, or octal while using my computer? Of those that are not completely void of use, there are those that are barely accessible. In some cases professor Janta does not set out clearly what it is that we will be doing, and his lectures rarely coincide with the assignments. I am not attacking professor Janta as a professor, I believe that he knows his subject well, but I also believe that there is a better way to go about teaching this class.

.....Secondly, I have completed all of the assignments and have handed them in and have received less than 50% of them back. Professor Janta voiced that he "believed" that some students were copying each others assignments and did not "bother" to look at the rest because of the copy he believed was happening. How is that fair to students like myself that don't copy? How can I progress as a student if I receive feedback on less than half of my assignments?

.....Thirdly, during the second last class of the year Professor Janta told the class how he wanted the assignments handed in. He wanted a specific template made and made it known that he would deduct marks if the assignments were not formatted to his specification. It is fine to ask student to hand in assignments in a particular way and have a particular format, but to ask for it during the second last day of classes? Excuse me if I am wrong, but shouldn't that have been handled during the first or second class of the year? Possibly in a syllabus so we may refer to it?

.....Fourthly, there are the two quizzes we've been given thus far. The first of the two, to be honest, was quite fair. But both of them were presented in a very unclear fashion. They were presented to the class on printed out excel sheets that were difficult even to know where to write your name. I'm not by any stretch of the imagination exaggerating. Any one in the class can be asked and they'll give you the same answer. I have never taken quizzes such as these. We are allowed to walk around the class and retrieve and trade answers. This is not only ridiculous in my eyes, but it also seems to be contrary to Professor Janta’s expressed aversion to copying that he displayed in assignments.

.....As I said before, I have been very patient with this class in the hopes that some clarity would come by the end of the year, but it hasn’t. I had taken into consideration that Professor Janta had lost a brother near the beginning of the year and assumed the disorganization was due to that personal tragedy. This may or may not be the case, and regardless of that we as a class are suffering and have nothing to show for our attendance other than a few sparse notes, a website that do not coincide with professor Janta’s lecture, and the few assignments that have been returned. I do have some thoughts of how the class might be handled so as to accommodate students who are quite apt at using a computer as well as catering to those who are novices. I would be glad to share them, you have my e-mail.

....Dr. Kant promised me that something would happen. I was a little weary of her, so I took it upon myself to produce a petition for the class to sign. I got 75% of the class I was in to sign as well as 25% of the French class to sign. I slipped it under Dr. Kant's door after the exam and left Glendon campus ready to tackle the Christmas Holidays.

.....This morning I got an e-mail.

This message did not reach you apparently. Please forward to thoses students that you know who signed the petition. thank you

Françoise Mougeon
Principale adjointe aux études
Collège Glendon, Université York
2275, Avenue Bayview
Toronto, Ontario, M4N 3M6
Tél.: 416 736 2100 (poste 88593
Fax.: 416 487-6786
----- Forwarded by francoise mougeon/GL/York/CA on 2005-01-04 14:02 -----

Dear Student,
The Principal's Office is aware that you signed a petition regarding thecourse COSC 1960 Introduction to Computers Usage. We would like to address the issues you raised in that petition. In order to do so it is necessary to obtain a formal written complaint. If you are prepared to write and sign a formal complaint to the attention of The Principal, Glendon College, please contact the Principal's office by Januray 7, 2005. Please be aware that in the event this case would be arbitrated, you might have to testify.

Thank you.

Françoise Mougeon
Principale adjointe aux études
Collège Glendon, Université York
2275, Avenue Bayview
Toronto, Ontario, M4N 3M6
Tél.: 416 736 2100 (poste 88593)Fax.: 416 487-6786

Testify. Arbitration. WOOOO. Scare tactics. I'm shaking in my nikes. Whatever. Fuck them. I rifled off this reply.

Francoise,

The purpose of the petition was to streamline the issue of formal complaints. There are people who are not satisfied with how the course is taught and how evaluations are carried out, but haven't the time to write a formal complaint. With all due respect, what is the purpose of each student writing their own formal complaint when they have read the petition which offers various choices of what can be complained of? I would be more than happy to take this to arbitration. I've already invested a fair amount of money and time into my GPA and I will not stand idle as it is tarnished by a low mark received from a poorly taught course. Note that I also find it is unfair that although you were aware that I did not receive your first e-mail that you allowed me only 2 days to mobilize the student body in way of writing their own formal complaints.

YL

I'm waiting for a reply. If they don't want to take it to arbitration then I'll take it to the papers. Not Excalibur or those PROTEM fuckers, I'll take it to the real papers. I do have Christie Blatchford's e-mail, might as well use it.

.....Final summation? What kind of asshole am I?

I'm the kind of asshole who hates a lot of things. I'm the kind of asshole who will fight for you when you're too lazy or pussy to do it yourself. I'm the kind of asshole who won't let the fact that your brother died impair his judgment of how inept you are. I'm the kind of asshole who places "being a university student", which I once held so much enthusiasm for, in the same boat as Santa Claus, the Tooth Fair, the Easter Bunny, and Michael Jackson. I'm more than one kind of asshole, and that says a lot more than can be said of most nice people. These people who want to find themself are narrow minded jerk-offs. You are not merely one self. You are many selfs. Just look at the different voices you use in a day. How do you talk to your parents, your dog, your friends, your lover, yourself? That is who you are and no amount of money or travel will tell you any different.

internet in the class is a bad idea.

I'm in my prose class at the moment and we've just been given an in-class assignment. What is it you ask? It's to write a postcard fiction. Not only that we've been given direction. FUN.






1. Take on the voice of someone in the media (I can't get Paris Hilton out of my head)

2. Realize their weakness as a person (uhhh... cock-hungry? Can i say that in class?)

3. And write in their voice and attempt to show how they cover up that weakness.

OKAY THEN.

The room is quite except for my typing. I wonder if that shit is distracting.

Tink & I

Well like, when I was younger and stuff Nikki and I used to play with barbies. But our barbies weren't the normal barbies you could just pick up at any store. No, daddy had some connections at Mattel and had some made especially for us. I loooooooved barbies, I remember like totally wanting to be barbie. In a way, I guess I kinda am. That's hot. Daddy's got all kinds of connection. Like The Simple Life? That was totally daddy. Free presidential suites for a year for some Fox high-up. I didn't want to do it at first, but like it was kinda fun. I needed to get started on my career. I wanna be a news caster, but not like going to Baghdad or anything like that. Couldn't you totally see me being like, "and now in the news." and stuff?

I'm sooooooooo incredibly lucky. My yogi, tells me I must've been something important in my past life. He said something about my aura, ummm... i can't remember, but whatever he’s got a sexy ass. OH MY GOD. I totally have to send someone out to get Tinkerbell that Murakami LV conversion dog tote I saw last week. That's hot. Tink you're such a bitch. Mommy loves you, you love me too, don't you? Yes you do... oh yess you do. Give mommy a kiss. She's being EXXXXTRA good these days because she knows I'm taking her to the V-E-T for some S-H-O-T-S. If she ever got sick, I'd totally throw a fit.

Oh my god, I had to go to that club that’s paying me to appear 3 times a year because I licensed them my name. What a drag. I was late and I was totally ready to go into bitch mode on them.

In hindsight, Mary should've said "fuck it" to Phuket.

By now you’re just getting back into the daily grind and are now hearing from co-workers and classmates alike who feel it is their duty to tell you how much they suffered over the Christmas break at the hands of the BIG BAD AIRPORT. What they neglect to tell you is the following: “I’m a Moron.” If you happen to be one of those people and are also someone that I know that doesn’t get you a “Get Out of Moron” free card. You’re still a moron. Actually, you then belong to a species: Moronis Familiaris. What makes these people morons? Read on.

Rewind back to a December 23rd 2004. This frigid evening I was watching CP24 from the safety of my bed while in the snugly warmth of my pjs, toque, and hoodie. (Yes, I wear all that shit to bed. It drops like 20 degrees north of Major Mac.) Warming my hands around a nice cup of coffee with Bailey’s mixed in for that little kick (thanks for the tip Seager), I watched as white people yelled into their cellphones and angry black people stood around at Person International waiting to commence their flights to their intended destinations. I thought, “What idiots.” Why the shit would you want to go on a flight two days before Christmas. SURVEY SAYS…… “To See Family” Fuck that. Family is family, but when you have to fly to get there during the holiday season you’re asking for deeeeeeeep ass exploration.

Fast forward one day. It’s the day before Christmas and people are really getting pissed. One sound bite I heard on the radio was of a woman yelling at an attendant, “I DON’T WANT A REFUND! I WANT A FLIGHT!” I hope she got her flight to Phuket, Thailand. (What? Too soon? Fuck you.) Getting mad at someone at the counter is like getting mad at a cup of coffee for being cold. Jesus fuck, people. ICE ON THE WINGS. If I was an attendant I would keep 20-30 ice scrapers behind the desk and would thrust them at whiney bitches while saying, “Maybe you wanna give it a go?” All smiles, of course.

One more thing. Now, this isn’t intended to be funny, ironic maybe, but not funny. If you laugh, you’re going to hell. One of the most startling images that I recalled after the Tsunami hit was of a Black gentleman who wasn’t mad at all, he was actually taking the flight delays in stride. He was joking with the reporter about how he’d probably still be here to see some basketball game. His destination was Sri Lanka. I hope that the iced wings that caused the delays was enough of a deterrent for some of those people in line. Fuck, that’d suck, eh? You get there just in time to get smoked by a 50 foot wave.

Deng that got precious at the end there. I’m tired. Sue me.

The milk has gone bad.

How could I resist an article so temptingly titled:

Romanian, 67, pregnant with twins

Adriana Iliescu says she expects to live for many years yet Romanian doctors say a 67-year-old woman is seven months pregnant with twin girls after fertility treatment. If the pregnancy comes to full term, it is believed that Adriana Iliescu, an author and academic, will become the oldest recorded mother.

Mrs Iliescu told local television she had always wanted to be a mother but had been unable to conceive naturally.

She says she is optimistic about her future as a mother, claiming her family has a history of longevity, and adding that she intends to bottle feed the twins.

Hurrah for the marvels of medical science. By the time the kid is born they'll both need diapers. As for the intention of bottle feeding? Well I fucking hope so! Look at her! Her milk is definitely past expiration date.

To My Female Readership

Be thankful you are a woman. There are many things you will never experience because of that. Labour pains, a monthly ride on the cotton pony, and guys that smell you on the subway aside, be thankful you are a woman. Today, this very afternoon, two of my dad’s friends came for a visit. Just as they were arriving my girlfriend was leaving. I kissed her goodbye and waved as she left the driveway. While walking my dad’s two friends to the yard where my dad was, one of them asked, “How’s the fit?” I was walking beside him, I turned and looked at him with a confused expression. “The fit! The fit!” he said, as he proceeded to take the index finger his left hand and push it through the curled fingers and palm of his right hand.

Gross.

.....He then went on to produce T.M.I. (too much information)
“When I was 16, I used to do it all night. Before I was sixteen, all night! Until the rooster crowed in the morning.” I smiled and said, “oh yea?” acting interested, but I probably wouldn’t win an Oscar for the performance.
.....Why do old men feel it’s important that I know how much they did it as a kid? Am I supposed to jump on the conversation and say, “YEA? WELL I’M DOING IT RIGHT NOW!” I know, I’m generalizing, but in my life this has probably happened to me 2-3 times a year since I turned 15.
.....Maybe you’re thinking that these men are just crude. Maybe you’re thinking they’re uneducated. Maybe it’s true, but it’s happened to me at York as well. (P.S. I'm not saying my dad is dumb. He's brilliant, his friends are retards.)

.....I was just leaving my Linguistics course that I was taking for the 2nd time that I would end up dropping weeks later when I recognized a mature student who used to tell really bad jokes in my “Ancient Philosophy and Civilizations” class. He was headed my way. Being the nice young fellow that I am, I said Hello. Paul, that was his name, took this as invitation to begin a conversation with me. It went like this:

.....“You listening to music?” Paul asked.
.....I had an ear bud in my right ear. “Yup!”
.....“Hope it’s under *** decibels.” I can’t remember what number he said because I don’t know what’s in the safe range.
.....“I have no idea.” I said.
.....“I did a lot of things in my life, I drank a lot and did a lot of drugs, but I made sure to take care of my ears.”
.....Feigning awe at his sage wisdom of protecting ones hearing “Good for you! I’ll probably be deaf by 40.”
.....Paul chuckled, “Where you going? Going to drink some beer?”
.....It was 10:30 in the morning.
.....I looked at him, furrowing my brow and displaying that timeless you’re kidding me expression saying, “It’s 10:30 in the morning.”
.....Paul chuckled again. “Where you going then? Gonna go look for some pussy?”
.....Yes, he actually said that.
.....I felt like backing away because harmless, bad joke telling Paul had just revealed him self to be a dirty old man. Without missing a beat he blurted out, in a lower tone, “I used to chase a lot of pussy when I was younger. Listen, what do you call the useless skin around the vagina?”
Still shocked, I shrugged.
.....“The woman.” He laughed, I half-laughed. “I gotta get going, you have a good day.” He said. I told him to have a good day, then walked away feeling like I needed an enema in my ears.

.....This isn’t the only reason why you, my female readership, should be thankful for having the chromosomal order of XX, but it’s one of them.

This makes my job infinitely more difficult.

I am a writer. I’ve yet to be paid for anything that I’ve written, and I’ve only been published in a few small journals whose back issues are more likely than not in storage somewhere awaiting their reincarnation as an industrial size roll of recycled ass-wipes. Single-ply. Despite these two facts, I am still a writer. It is what I do, and it will be what I continue to do until I am A) successful, or B) an alcoholic. I am a writer. And that, is all.

What is a writer? Well… Let’s see. When people actually ask me what I’m doing in school, rather than saying that I should study law even though it’s very hard and not my cup of tea, I am forced to tell them, “I am a English/Prose honours double major.” I say “prose” because “creative writing major” sounds like I get a free padded hat when I graduate. These people who ask invariably say, “Oh, Journalism! How exciting!” I used to disagree and tell them, “no, no. Journalism is the opposite of what I want to do!” I would then go into an explanation of what a writer does, and what a journalist does. This would usually confuse them and would conclude with them, after more lengthy explanation, saying, “So, you’re going to write stories?” Which, with their tone, usually sounds more like, “Oh, you’re going to finger-paint and make hearts out of pipe cleaners!”

I assume you guys know what a writer does so we can skip that and move into what makes my job hard, namely, news stories like this:

“It’s as incredible as it is unthinkable. In an area where hundreds of thousands are feared dead, a new unwanted phenomenon is showing up – tourists.

Hard as is it to believe, travellers who held tickets for the popular Thailand resort of Phuket showed up there on Friday to begin their scheduled vacations.

Bizarre scenes of people lying on the beach getting a tan were intermingled with shots of dead bodies being tended to nearby, in an amalgam of tragedy turned into something approaching lunacy.

“My time has come around, that's it,” explains Juergen Kroh, who just jetted in from Germany. “So don't be scared, and of course all the pictures there you can see in the television around the world, they are horrible. It's a disaster. But what can we do?”

Survivors are bewildered that people would even think about coming to the place where more than a thousand died.

Some corpses are actually washing up on the beach, in the same places where the tourists sit. And in addition to all the chaos, there’s a lack of supplies to feed the sudden crowd.

Local business owners are struggling to restore order to their destroyed shops and restaurants to meet the unexpected demand.”

It’s sort of like Weekend at Bernie’s, except everyone else is dead.

Seriously though, I’m supposed to make up weird and wacky things for people to read and be entertained by, but how am I supposed to compete with stuff like Jerk-off-jet-setter Juergen Korh vacationing in a place called Phuket (come on, that’s funny) after a massive natural disaster? How am I supposed to top punch lines like, “It’s a disaster. But what can we do?” How am I then supposed to get that *Uph* into my stories? I’m not going to say that people are getting desensitized by television because I don’t like in vogue polysyllabic words, but I’ll say this: People are getting used to an elevated level of assholary.