A Few Announcements.

by Camille Posted on October 9, 2008

It’s Thursday. Which means it’s a great day to answer somebody’s question.

Q [from Alicia]:

I was going to hesitate to ask, but then the end of your post said “Don’t hesitate to ask.” So here’s me not hesitating: For how long will you not be able to work or go to school or whatever in Canada? Also, what are their reasons for not letting you do so? Don’t get me wrong–I think you should do whatever you please with your time, but it would be nice for you to have some options (I’d think).

Also, on a related note, what do you think you will do once you are allowed to work and attend school?

That’s all I got, but I’ll keep thinking of questions for you. :)

A [from me]:

Thank you Alicia, for your question(s). They are valid, and I will answer them.

I can’t work yet in Canada because I am not a Canadian citizen, nor have I completed my paperwork allowing me to work (similar to a Green Card in the United States). When I do get that paperwork finished, I will be considered a resident of Canada. Not a citizen. I will not be able to vote, but I will be allowed to work. And pay taxes. [And, if you are wondering, I am already allowed to be on the Canadian Healthcare plan, simply because I married a Canadian and live here. I think that’s pretty nice of the government, though I haven’t had to tap into it yet. Thankfully. And anyway, I don’t think Alberta Healthcare offers laser treatment for volcanoes in right nostrils, which is what I’d really like.] For more information on how you can marry a Canadian and fill out paperwork, see The Government of Alberta. It’s fun. Really.

I can go to school here, but since I don’t have my paperwork finished, I am technically considered an international student, which means my tuition would be $11,000/year. Which is more than twice what I’ll pay as a resident. Initially my plan was to finish my paperwork by last December and get back into school by January, but the paperwork has taken a lot longer (about 10 months longer, actually) than I expected. It’s still not finished, but I am anxious to finish school sometime in this decade, if at all possible…

…which leads me to announce that I will be starting classes in January.

See? Me and my acceptance letter. Wahoo.

I have applied to the closest University and likely have another 1.5 to two years until I graduate. I never really considered myself a dropout. But I guess I have been, technically speaking. How depressing.

On the bright side, last year when all my high school friends were graduating from college, I had done some brilliant things with my life that others might never have the opportunity to do. As much as I’d like to already have my degree, if it meant that I couldn’t have taken off a year to move to Europe and get married to a certain Poor Canadian, I wouldn’t choose any differently.

And, to further answer your question, Alicia [i.e. “what do you think you will do when you are allowed to work and attend school”], I intend to work and attend school. I have no job prospects, but I will be getting my degree in Museum Studies and Art History, with {maybe} a minor in…French.

That’s right. French. Parlez-vous? It’s just an idea I’ve had kicking around in my brain, and I haven’t told anyone about it yet. Not even Poor Kyle. {Hi, Poor Kyle! [He doesn’t much care for French.]}

Just remember, you heard it first on Archives of Our Lives.

And, as always, I’m open for any more questions you may have. Don’t hesitate. Really.

Posted in ask me anything, Canada, French | 9 Comments

Me and My Big Ideas.

by Camille Posted on October 8, 2008

Thank you to everyone who piped in on my one (and hopefully only) political post yesterday. I have enjoyed reading people’s opinions, and I looked up–and investigated–every single link I was given. I feel more educated on the subject now than ever, and I’ve decided my choice must come down to what I value most in life…financial responsibility, or family matters. It seems like neither candidate will let me choose both.

Despite what many [or all] of you might think, I don’t write posts like that just to stir up a little bit of loco in people’s lives.

Oh, who am I kidding? Of course I do.

But I can almost swear never to get political again, on account of every time my phone rang yesterday, I answered it with great trepidation. I was just sure somebody with access to my number was going to really chew me out for going postal and signing up to be a Democrat (which I haven’t, but I don’t promise I won’t make any rash decisions).

Which brings me to the topic of today. Rash decisions.

The most monumental rash decision I ever made was to move to Canada after my first year at ASU didn’t go so well. It was monumental because it led me to meet Poor Kyle, and I can honestly say my life has never really been the same since. When I drove North to this country for the first time, and saw all the sights of Alberta, I had no idea the role this place would play in my future.

Here’s me, not yet 19 years old, in the midst of said trip. So oblivious to the fact that the bridge I was admiring would soon become a feat of architecture I’d see almost daily.

Another rash decision I made was to pack my bags and become a nanny in French-speaking Belgium. I thought I knew the language, but I knew nothing. It was one of my life’s most profound experiences, and I would not have changed it for anything.

I lived in a tower, and to get to my tower I had to climb this itty bitty winding staircase [which I soon discovered to be slippery when wearing socks]. I climbed it at least 10 times a day. There were 16 steps. It was the highlight of…well…it was just a highlight.

It was that voyage that taught me how to truly travel lightly, how to communicate with people in their home country, how to be independent…how to make it on my own. I was in Paris for a week…all by myself. On a “family” trip to Amsterdam, I woke up early one morning to see the Ann Frank House, and wandered through the streets with a map until I eventually got there. I did it. I have a huge sense of confidence (not indestructibility, just confidence) in myself because of all the opportunities I’ve had to see the world.

Oh, Paris. How I miss you.

And that brings me to my next topic: what if I had a travel blog, documenting all the places I’ve been or would like to go? Would you read it? Would that be boring? Would you groan at the thought of yet another blog you feel obligated to follow?

Hit me with your honest opinion–I can take it.

Posted in Travel, what I'm about | 14 Comments

Nobody Scream, But I Might Just Be a Democrat.

by Camille Posted on October 7, 2008

I listened to talk radio (CNN and NPR, specifically) for the first real time in my life last week.

For over twelve hours.

I won’t go into the details of the mental breakdown that isnpired me to do this, but I will say that it had something to do with a drive from Oregon to Canada, a Sirius satellite radio, and a husband who didn’t like being ignored by a book-reading wife.

Who’s recommendation was this? Thanks, whoever tipped me off. It reminded me of a certain small town of barely 3,000 people. Quite endearing. Photo from here.

It was also the day that the Bailout Bill was being put back to The House for debate and a re-vote, and the highly anticipated (and only) vice presidential debate was scheduled to take place.

And did you know? If you listen to CNN all day long, for twelve hours straight, you will hear the same news over and over. For twelve hours straight.

I learned that all Sarah Palin had to do at the debate was not sound like a blubbering idiot, and she would have come out the victor. And Joe Biden’s (can I call him “Joe?”) only task was to refer to Palin as “Governor,” not acknowledging in any way, shape, or form, the gender of his opponent, and it would be considered a tie. Fair and square.

I also learned the terms Freddie and Fannie, the names Frank Raines and Barney Frank, and that $700,000,000,000 (that’s seven hundred billion dollars…as in billion) is supposed to save our economy [which, incidentally, is worse off than it ever was in the Dirty Thirties, as Canadians know the Great Depression].

It’s almost like I got smart…or something.

The most important thing I learned, however, is that I have no idea who I should vote for in the presidential election. I have already learned my lesson that it’s silly to vote for a candidate based on what family is doing. I want proof. I want evidence. I want to know, for myself, for sure, that I am voting for the right person. In my travels abroad, I have met a lot of people, and I’ve learned that, from outside our borders, many people think America is a laughingstock. I was shocked when I first realised that not everybody hails America as the greatest country on Earth. It opened my eyes, and I have been supremely interested in my world perspective ever since.

I want to vote for the team that will make the rest of the world stop laughing at me.

Only I can’t figure out which team that is.

I know that so many people would give their organs (not the vital ones, maybe just a kidney, but still…) to be able to vote in this election. People throughout history have fought for the right to vote. I do not take it lightly. In fact, I’m starting a poll of Canadians, asking who they would vote for if they had a choice. So far I’m 1-1 (it’s a small poll–I don’t have a lot of friends up here).

So I’m asking you to weigh in. Not that I’m going to vote for whoever you vote for…but I’d like to hear people’s pros and cons…why you’ve decided who you did, or if you are struggling to decide, like I am. And don’t be shy [or do be…whatever works]. You don’t have to answer. If you want to, you are welcome to hide behind anonymity, or you can leave your comment under a name that only I would know, like “Your Manager From the Gallery in Scottsdale” or “The Person Who Accused You of Stealing my Graphing Calculator Freshman Year at ASU” or “Your Mother.” Or else you can just leave your name and buck up for the ensuing mud-slinging. I get it all the time–it’s not so bad.

I ask this so I can see the world from some different perspectives, not so I can raise you-know-what. I need help, is all.

Ready? Go!

Posted in what I'm about, woe is me | 35 Comments

Spotty…

by Camille Posted on October 2, 2008

…no, not my face (though if we’re being honest [and we always are] my right nostril could really use some sort of laser treatment).

I’m talking spotty internet.

I have a dream, though. Of reception…of service no matter where I go, or how far away my hotel room is from the front desk. I have a dream that I can always check my emails on the road. And I do mean on the road. Even in the middle of nowhere.

Image from here.

What’s that, you say? Such technology already exists? Apple™? iPhone? 3G?

Fine. I dream of that, then.

Posted in what I'm about, woe is me | 9 Comments

Pick Apart {of Me}

by Camille Posted on October 1, 2008

I know it’s Wednesday only, but I felt like answering a Thursday question today.

Q [from Jennie]:

I have a question to be added to your Thursday posts’ list.

Why do you put brackets around your titles? You don’t do it all the time, but probably half of the time, so you must have a reason for it. So, why? What does it mean? (By brackets, I mean { }. I don’t know what those are called.)

A [from me]:

Hi, Jennie! Who are you? There wasn’t a link accompanying your name, so I don’t have any idea who you are. Which is a lot like making you anonymous, only kind of worse, because I have a bit of a hint. If you are from Mesa and I have met you, you could be a few people. Jennie my neighbor, Jennie my aunt, Jennie who takes pictures, Jennie the mother of my best friend, Jennie from the block.

In regards to your question…WRONG! There is not really any rhyme or reason to my use of {these things}.

First off, let’s figure out what they’re called. According to the most reliable source on the internet, {these} may be referred to as 1} squiggly brackets, 2} squigglies, 3} curly brackets, or 4} braces. I feel silly using the term “squiggly” in my daily discourse, and braces make me think of how I need to see the dentist, so for our intents and purposes, let’s call them “curly brackets.”

Secondly, my inspiration: {Frolic!} A simple “if, then” statement should suffice. If someone does it… and I like it… then I do it. Queen of mimicry, that’s me. Never had an original thought in my head.

You are right about one thing, though: I don’t use curly brackets all the time in my titles. Only sometimes. I never know when I am going to use them. Sometimes my titles just look like they need a little…something extra. So I hug them with curly brackets, and go along my merry way. It’s not something I give any major thought. If it happens, it happens. If not, fine. {I suppose that makes me sound very spontaneous and full-of-life. Actually, most days, the use of curly brackets in my titles is the most adventurous thing that happens to me. Everybody should move to a country where they’re legally forced to be lazy.}

However, since you’re probably looking for a little more closure in your life, and I don’t take the challenge “ask-me-anything” lightly, I’ve broken it down for you.

Here is a list of recent posts that have been titled with the use of curly brackets:

{A Lesson in Self-Assertion}
{I Put the Ab in Abnormal}
{Flip My Flop}
{The Dog Ate My Blog Post}
{Communism at its Finest}
{Life Lessons and Muffin Tops}

Here is a list of recent posts that have been freely titled:

The Saga of Steve vs. Ned–This is Mostly Speculation
I Wonder How Many Angels Had to Die in the Making of This Bed?
There’s no Such Thing as Edward and Bella
And Then I Was Faced With My Day of Reckoning
I Turned 22 And All I Got Was Adult Acne.

So maybe I use the brackets with shorter titles, or titles that are not quite long enough to be my life history.

I don’t know.

But thank you, Mystery Jennie, whoever you are. For caring. For reading. I hope I answered you enough.

And if you have any more questions, anyone….please. Don’t hesitate to ask.

Posted in ask me anything, what I'm about | 11 Comments

I Turned 22 and all I Got Was Adult Acne.

by Camille Posted on September 30, 2008

On the inside of my right nostril, over the course of one night, I have contracted either a pimple or a bug bite.

I don’t know which is worse.

On one hand, I might have a pimple inside my nose.

On the other hand, I may have inhaled a bug in the middle of the night; a bug which then proceeded to bite my nose.

So really, is there any way this is going to be a good day?

In case your Tuesday is looking anything like mine, I’m posting some pictures of my birthday flowers. It might just cheer you up.

Poor Kyle brought them to me in a brown paper bag from the flower place, and I was so excited to be able to arrange them myself. If anybody’s gonna get me flowers, getting them so I can arrange them myself is much better than buying them already fancied up. Not that I’m any Eddie Ross or Jami Parker Pitts, but I still like to try.
I got that white pitcher from Goodwill for $1.99 and like it more than most people I know. [Not you people, though. Different people.]
Here’s the arrangement from a step back…
And from one more step back. This is for anyone who’s been bugging me to show pictures of my house. Happy Tuesday. And normally, those black candlesticks aren’t there–they belong on a lower surface, but I recently had a little terror at my house, and he was obsessed with destroying anything at his eye level. I still haven’t quite recovered.
{He sure is a cute little tyrant, though.}
{Oh yeah. And don’t mind that crazy person in the mirror. She may or may not have just barely gotten out of bed. She hasn’t showered in a while. She has nothing to do with the person who runs Archives of Our Lives. Nothing at all.}
And now for a few steps closer…close-ups of flowers make me smile.
Pretty…
…pretty…
…and pretty.

Mums are quickly becoming my favourite flower (second only to snapdragons). Especially these fall-coloured ones. Poor Kyle said he got these ones because I had them in my bouquet at our wedding almost a year ago.

Svelte, PK. Very svelte.

Posted in oh brother what next, photos | 14 Comments

Is There Anything More Tedious in all the World?

by Camille Posted on September 29, 2008

I am an adult; twenty two years of age, officially. I pay taxes (when I have a job) and fill my own gas tank (when I can’t get Poor Kyle to do it for me). I make my bed (almost always now), and cook dinner (such as it is). For all intents and purposes, I’m a grown-up.

Why, then, do I hate brushing my teeth? Why?

I’ll tell you why:

1. It’s so tedious. You want me to just…stand there? In front of the mirror? The two times during the day that I look my absolute worst? For how long? Three minutes? Please.

2. …

Never mind. There’s only that one reason.

It is, though. Tedious, I mean. Nevertheless, I do brush my teeth on a regular basis (once a week, like clockwork [just kidding!]). I just get so…bored. I always have. When I was a kid, and didn’t understand about bad breath and social faux pas and what-not, I would go to school without brushing my teeth all the time. [I didn’t have a lot of friends.] Then, the day before I had a dentist appointment, I would get all stressed out and try brushing my teeth every five minutes or so, and then ten times right before the dreaded hour. It never worked. I always came out with 20 more cavities than before.

The only thing that’s changed since then is that, as an “adult,” I’m fairly sure there’s no way around brushing my teeth twice daily. (Although…I still don’t have many friends. Maybe I’m on to something…)

Yet for some reason I really enjoy flossing. Tell me it’s time to brush my teeth, and I’ll procrastinate as long as I can. But flossing–it’s the highlight of my day. With flossing, I actually get to see the fruits (or bread particles, or pepper) of my labor. It’s like a treasure hunt in my mouth! Every evening before bed! [Being able to floss from the comfort of my plush bed might have something to do with my joy.]

I’ve decided I have to make a game out of brushing my teeth.

Maybe if my toothpaste was a little person with feet who jumped out of the drawer every time I went to the bathroom and sang cheerful songs while I brushed…then again, that might just make me need a therapist. Image from here.

But the only one I can think of is see-how-quickly-I-can-run-back-to-bed-and-catch-a-power-nap-while-brushing. And I tried it once, but the complications with my bed sheets were horrible. Not worth it.

So I’m turning to you. Do you get bored with brushing your teeth, too? What games do you play to make yourself do it?

No? Nothing?

Oh. How awkward.

Posted in failures, looking back, mediocrity, what I'm about | 15 Comments