No more bomb scares since last time. Nice weather, though. Kinda surprising, on both counts.
Did you see the headlines about Elian Gonzalez this morning? Apparently his Miami relatives have decided that they won't turn the boy over to his Dad if he comes, which they had insisted they would do up until now, obviously assuming Castro would never let him out of his sight. Granted, Fidel is playing games with the 31 other people he wants to send along, from government ministers to school children, but honestly, what did we expect? The most important thing is to reunite the family. A few commisars loitering around Miami won't hurt. Much.
Frankly, I think that a lot of the public support that these relatives and the other Cuban agitators have had up until now will disappear over this, except from the far right (more below). I've been firmly of the mind that Elian should be sent back from the very beginning, but was willing to concede that I would feel better about it if Papa Gonzalez, who from everything I've seen and read sounds like a decent guy being jerked around, came over to retrieve his son himself. But now, there can be no more excuses. The base politcal aims of these Cubans, who are now starting to behave themselves very poorly in blocking the streets, ports, and Elian's house, should be obvious. A few are going on hunger strikes now, which is patently ludicrous. Those only work if you are someone like Gandhi or Christ.
What I find to be nearly as repellent as the behavior of Elian's family is the behavior of our politicians. I'll ignore Al Gore - his shameless pandering is so manifestly obvious it isn't worth slamming - and sink my teeth straight into the Republican senators trying to grant Elian either permanent residency or citizenship, depending on which news report you hear. This is the same crowd that has spent the last ten years howling about the end of family values. Suddenly the emperor has no clothes. Here we have a father - and a good one, there seems to be no argument there - who would like to regain custody of his recently half-orphaned son and go back to a normal, functional life in his homeland. But evidently family values is only a concern when it comes to blocking civil rights for gays, shafting single black mothers, or curtailing free speech on the Internet, but not when actual real families are at stake, and especially not when the family lives in a communist country. There are some circumstances where politics have no place. Don't get me wrong, I'm no fan of commies or of Castro specifically, but you can see that Republicans are still blinded by seeing Reds under every bed. What a bunch of fucking disgusting hypocrites.
OK, I'll step off my soapbox now. On with the good news!
I wrote too soon in my last entry. The very next day, a large package arrived from McGill, sent U.S. Priority Mail (hence it's arrival in such a timely manner). The news is good; not only do they want me, but they will give me some scholarship money, too. I've run the numbers quickly, and Penn, whom I will hear from hopefully this week, will have to really have a stupendous offer to get me, especially since I would rather go to McGill anyway. So hopefully Penn will get their answer to me soon, becuase there is some bureaucratic nonsense - nothing really that bad - that needs to be done to get authorization to live in Canada and Québec. It sounds like a major headache if you live somewhere like India, but for U.S. residents, it doesn't sound like a big deal at all.
Furthermore, McGill also enclosed an invitation to a shindig next month at the Canadian embassy in Washington to learn more about McGill. I think I already know enough to make a decision, but I've never been to a reception at an embassy before, so I might have to go, especially since Dad has been plotting a trip to DC for a while anyway.
The other bit of good news is that the day before yesterday, the Academic Bowl team finished the season by winning the county tournement dramatically in front of a crowd of about 1000 of the opposing team's classmates. We got a huge trophy, individual medals, and picture in the paper. It was especially satisfying to defeat Eisenhower HS becuase, the day before, they took first in the SE-93 tournement in Jamestown, beating us out in the finals. As our coach, Mr. Minnis, reminded us before we went up for our first match, "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord."
Mr. Willis J. Stetson, Jr. Dean of Admissions University of Pennsylvania 1 College Hall Philadelphia, PA 19104-6376Dear Mr. Stetson,
In my mail pile today, I was observant enough to spot a very thin envelope from your august institution, the sign of doom when evaluating the external characteristics of correspondence from Ivy League institutions. My initial impression was not to be shaken; upon opening the envelope, I learned that I was not to be one of the few, the proud, the privileged to be mugged and stabbed on Cherry St. next year.
Your confidence about my future opportunities mentioned in the last line was not misplaced; you need have no worries about my pursuit of higher education. I have been accepted by what was actually my first choice, McGill University, one of the four highly distinguished "Canadian Ivies," and the only one in the fine city of Montréal, rated number one best college town by Peterson's The 331 Best Colleges. And it will allow me the chance to pursue my lifelong dream of becoming Prime Minister of Canada.
Furthermore, my rejection will afford some other student the opportunity to enroll, as, due to financial matters (i.e., the fact that one year at your school is more expensive than a Mercedes-Benz, with not half the raw sexual charisma), I would most likely have had to turn down any offer extended. Therefore it is much better that my ego should be crushed than yours.
Which brings me to my next point. Although I realize that all decisions are final, and have no intention whatsoever of asking for any reconsideration (in fact, I would appreciate it if you would shred all my documents immediately, except, of course, for this one), I would not be opposed to any clarification you might like to provide as to the exact nature of your decision. If you decide that my faults and weaknesses are none of my business, that's OK too.
I actually have a few theories of my own, which have gone through my head in the last forty-five minutes or so. My first theories &endash; my 800s in the SAT Verbal and SAT II Writing, my 5 on the U.S. History AP examination, and my reaching the final running in the National Merit Scholarship competition &endash; were quickly discarded as being somewhat unlikely possibilities. But please allow me to list some of the ideas that later popped into my mind.
1. Ninety-day tardiness of financial aid information. Although you are a "need-blind" institution, I am certain that if I were a need-blind institution, I would still notice certain tendencies towards laziness, carelessness, and procrastination in the preparation of any application documents.
2. Overall crappiness of the "What a Penn Education would mean to me" essay or however it was worded. I looked over it just now and, gosh, did it suck!
3. Obvious cockiness and nonconformist tendencies shown in the "Page from my autobiography" essay. Frankly, I thought it was a masterpiece, but was fully aware that to certain readers it could possibly be off-putting. Apparently I was right. I also do not wear Abercrombie & Fitch.
4. Inclusion of my website address in the application. This could be one for the upcoming FOX reality show The World's Stupidest College Applicants IV. Sometime after applying, I added a section to my website with candid thoughts on my future, including, if I am not mistaken, the words "even though I don't really want to go there very much."
That's all I have come up with so far, so I think I'll call this letter to a close. I thank you for you attention in reading it, and hope that it will be at least in the top ten of angry and sarcastic responses from rejected applicants that you receive this year. If you could give even a few seconds consideration to my request of certiorari, I would be most appreciative.
Evan R. McElravy
TGIF!
Actually, this week did go fast, but the weather was god awful until today, which is absolutely beautiful. It's great, blue sky, birdies, about 70º F. That's especially nice considering I had to scrape my windshield Wednesday morning. People were in shorts and skirts instead of sweaters. That's especially nice too. And it's supposed to stay nice all weekend - that's extra especially nice.
So spring fever - which was on hiatus for the last two miserable cold weeks - is back. Right now I'm entering the "travel hysteria" phase (the "raw sexual desire" phase seems to have waned somewhat). I always go through this around March or April, so I guess it's right on cue. The urge is exacerbated this year by the recent globe trotting tendencies of my friends. Right now my friend Dammond is in Puerto Rico, three weeks ago my friend Lauren went to Aruba (though she didn't actually get all the way there, but I'm sure Miami was nice), two weeks before that my friend Kurt was in the Dominican Republic, my frind Paul is going to New Orleans over Easter and the next week my friend Nick is going to Venezuela, which sounds kick ass.
So with that in mind, it's time to hit my favorite site, Travelocity and plan my summer. Parents and other family members are already putting up offers for various mini-trips, most of which seem to involve Montréal (my recent registration at McGill has incited a burst of interest, I suppose). Mom really wants to see it now (at last) and Dad wants to experience train travel (and see the city again), so he's eyeing up the Toronto-Montréal sleeper on VIA Rail (maybe even for over part of Easter break). As for myself, I'd sort of like to check out the Fête National on June 24 (coinciding with my saint's day, by the way), get trashed, see some fireworks, scope out the nightlife, which all sounds like a trip better made without family accompaniment (actually, I'd like to go with a car load of friends). At any rate, my parents will have plenty of opportunity to see the city when they drive me and my possessions up there at the end of August (orientation is the 28th).
Beyond that, in terms of some big trip, my grandmother has given me assurances of her willingness to subsidize a more serious intercontinental expedition, which leaves me some leverage to scheme, though time is running short to make plans. Air fares to Paris from Pittsburgh are unbelievable right now, and sure to go up soon, so I'm thinking that could be good, though I've always told myself that I'd wait until I could parley in French to go there. But I could easily take a train to somewhere else, like London. Actually, in terms of European destinations, Munich would be the likliest possibility. I have ancestral roots around there, and I suppose it is important to see where you come from, but more importantly my friend Martin, who lives just south in Landshut, assured me that I could hang at his place if I ever came over. He came to Warren all last year on a foreign exchange trip and we got to know each other pretty well, so it'd be nice to have a cool local person to show me around, tell me what kind of beer to drink.
Another possibility, which would be even cooler, though far more difficult and expensive to arrange, would be to go to Australia, which I have been dying to do just about as long as I can remember. I've been reading up, and even had the tourist bureau send me brochures and whatnot. My close Internet friend Matt lives and goes to school in Melbourne (which looks and sounds absolutely fantastic from all the things I have read and seen on the tube), and I'm sure he would be happy to show me all kind of shit, though unless he has a winter break, he'll probably be kinda busy with classes. So that's a thought too.
Aside from traveling, I probably ought to consider finding some sort of employment this summer. I don't really think it would be strictly necessary, but it would probably be a decent idea, if for no other reason than to keep me from lounging around all the time (since most all my friends have jobs, a fact which they mention to me frequently). But we'll see. Unless I really have to work, I'm not going to unless I can get a job that will be moderately stimulating. I'm not going to flip burgers.
OK, that's my word for the week. I'm going to go enjoy the weather. Until next time.
Hmm....
I just saw someone who I hadn't seen in quite a while, just out of the corner of my eye while driving, a one in a million shot. The experience has dredged up some ancient memories, some stuff that has been, while not really submerged, not exactly on the top of my mind lately, troubling ideas which had ceased troubling me long ago. But of course, now I can think of nothing else. It's the same old feelings, frustrations...it's been a rough two hours.
So many of these thoughts aren't really relevent anymore but they're part of the historical record, and enough of them are still relevent that they can't quite be flushed. I'd like if they were, for another while. Fuck closure, I want to just put this shit in a convenient place, access it enough to deal with some people for a while, and then get the hell out of town and find some new shit to torment myself with in college.
Am I being cryptic? I am being cryptic, intentionally. I can't explain it, it wouldn't be either possible or appropriate, and besides I don't want to, I'm too private. They are my memories, my shit.
There's a lot of the story that I still have to deal with everyday, anyway, but I've sort of had to depersonalize a lot of the parts. Not an active thing, just a natural biological function, like digestion. I'm happier not thinking about them, and at any rate there's nothing I can do now but look back and think, what happened? There's an uncertainty there which, while still intriguing, no longer drives me or keeps me awake at night. I'm happier just going with the flow, not worrying about it, thinking I will start fresh this fall.
I think part of it is old-fashioned nostalgia, which is somewhat crazy, I was miserable for years becuase of the same shit which is fascinating me now. Would I go back and repeat all my school years over again? I often catch myself thinking I should, but I can't imagine why, the parts I remember, certainly a minority, I hated and was miserable about. Intellectually, I remember I was happy most of the time, and generally had a good time (a few recent years, of which I am talking about here primarily, often being exceptions), but those aren't the parts that stick out for the most part. And at any rate, it never pays to go backwards. I couldn't go back and take my baggage, do it all over as who I am now. I'd be a stranger to myself, I think, though I also have the sinking feeling that I'd do a lot of things exactly the same despite myself.
With a few exceptions, though.
Honestly, this school year has been good. I have intentionally shyed away from the sort of things which I know will make me miserable or crazy if I pursue them. Instead, I'm just having some fun (most of the time), and staying away from the deep stuff, the sort of stuff that will stick long after I've tried to make a clean break. Besides, with college coming up, I have more important things to get ready for.
How much of a clean break do I want to make? I don't know, I have a lot of good friends, and I'm not going to drop them and run, though I can't imagine we'll stick forever, or even through college, ICQ or not. These things happen. I think it's the circumstances and the surroundings more than the people anyway, though I have been ignoring all of them pretty well, Until tonight.
And who knows what will happen before August 27, anyway. So many miraculous things could occur that I can't imagine. Most likely they won't (and, again, maybe that's a good thing), but you never should make too many exact plans. Things happen as they happen. I haven't even figured out what my role in all of them are yet, so there's no point worrying about what lines to say and where to stand, even if it leaves certain things unfinished, certain needs unmet.
All in good time, all in good time. I'm not going to get hit by a bus tomorrow, and even then I don't know that I'd have too many regrets. Life is as life does, I suppose. And at any rate, that wouldn't be the end. I can't decide which, my loyalty to Christian ideas of the afterlife or my deep suspicion that souls keep recycling is more accurate (or desirable), but I'm sure one of them must be. And if the latter is true, I'm fairly certain that I would have my choice of who to be, though on a rational level that makes absolutely no sense at all, because there are a lot of people no one would want to be. But to wrap things up, all this means I think things are OK afterall.
Boy, how about that Alan Greenspan?
Honestly, it all seems somewhat elementary to me. We have more jobs than people, so we raise interest rates to avoid inflation. Has anyone thought about getting more people and leaving the interest rates alone? Mightn't that be the better solution? The U.S. takes in fewer immigrants as a percentage of our population than most other Western industrial nations, quite a change from the days of old. And most of the immigrants we do take in, we take in becuase they are related to people who are already here (frequently Cubans), not becuase they would be really, really good to have in the country. That Finnish guy with the funny name who invented Linux (you know who I'm talking about), a guy nearly any nation on earth (not least of all Finland) would love to have contributing to their economy, had to wait like two and a half years to get a visa. Elian is not the problem with immigration, our dumb shit laws are the trouble with immigration. But what are the chances Congress will get off its dead ass and do something about it?
I thought so.
Sorry I haven't written in here for so long. It's been a crazy few weeks. I've been busy with AP testing (fun, fun, fun) and other school stuff, so I haven't really had a whole lot of time to do web page stuff. Not that I've really had much to talk about, though.
It's good to have AP finished up. I took four tests, English Literature, European History, and the two Politics and Government exams. They were pretty intense. I have no idea how well I did on the English, and am still wondering about the Politics and Government, but I have nothing but good feelings about the European History. I took U.S. History last year and got a 5, so I have some history of succeeding with these things.
The weather last week was super-nice. Or at least super-hot, which is kinda neat once your thermostat readjusts from winter mode. I did have some sweaty nights last week. Not a problem this week, though. It's been cold and ugly so far. Figures, now that I am done with studying for a while. It turned cold Saturday night. I was out in the woods with some friends. We spent the night out there and just about died. It was a pathetic time anyway, but that was sort of the piece de resistance, on top of all sorts of other things better not mentioned here.
Memorial Day is coming up. I should do something fun. Any ideas? Road trips are fun.
The wonders of the modern age are truly trickling down to all segments of society. I was in the library this afternoon and saw an Amish man checking his Hotmail. I love Pennsylvania.
I was at Borders this weekend and bought a copy of Le Monde for shits and giggles. You know the Academie Française is waging a losing battle when a headline on the front page ends with the phrase "le travail du week-end." Absolutely shocking. I for one, when the day comes when I can speak French (and that day seems inevitable based on my college choice), will do my best to resist such galling anglicizations of la langue sacrée. The fin de semaine it will remain!
I saw Gladiator this evening. Good flick. Sort of "Spartacus Meets George Washington" in thundering DTS. The computer recreations of Rome as it must have looked 1900 years ago were nothing short of spectacular. They must have used the same program as with the last Star Wars flick, becuase it has very much the same feel to it. I personally think they could have come up with an equally entertaining Roman epic (boy, talk about everything old is new again) without making up any history. The real history of Rome is just as gruesome and interesting. I don't think there has ever been a film about Catiline's conspiracy (filmmakers seem to prefer the Empire to the Republic), but that could make an excellent movie. Plus, the screenwriters would get big break if they cribbed Cicero's orations to the senate (every word of which I painstakingly translated in school this year, by the way). The civil war would be good, too. There seem to have been a lot of Shakespeare films in the last few years (isn't there a new Hamlet now?), so maybe they can drag Julius Caesar out. That would be cool, that's my favorite of Shakespeare's plays. "Yond Cassius hath a lean and hungry look; he thinks too much, such men are dangerous. I prefer to have around me such men as who sleep at night!"
I'm graduating.
That isn't really news, I suppose, I've known it was coming for, well, all my life I guess, but it's different now. Now it really is coming. In sixteen days.
It really didn't hit me beyond the intellectual level until this morning, in homeroom, when someone dumped a shiny piece of gold fabric on my desk. It took me a minute to figure out its significance, but when I finally realized that I was to wear it at commencement to signify my membership in the National Honor Society, I was a little big shaken up. It was an amazing realization, actually, that on June 9, I will walk across the field wearing that fabric around my neck, pick up my diploma, and leave behind everything I've ever known for something else entirely.
La vie française? Of course that's part of it, but even if I weren't expatriating (albeit less than a day's drive away), it would still be a big deal. It's the whole experience, the place, the day-to-day routine, the people, all the rest (though only the last is really important). What a huge upheaval. Will it seem it way, way down the road? Probably not. Most likely I will have lost all touch with most, maybe all of the people who seem so important to me now, so how could any other part of the high school experience seem important that far gone? But it still represents the biggest change, la fin d'epoque, I've faced yet.
But face it I shall, come what may. It really will be for the best. I'm not resisting it or dragging my feet, I'm actually rather looking forward to it, but it has brought on a lot of reflection and contemplation nonetheless. That's what I do.
But enough of that. You aren't interested in my angst.
I was looking over the BBC website - my primary source of news on world events online and on the radio - last night and found an area on there about Learning English (well hidden, too, I might note). It's interesting, they have a Q&A section that people can write into to ask about stuff too tough for their teachers. There was nothing in there new to me, my English is top-notch, but since it was all stuff I had an intuitive grasp of I really admired the way the guy was able to explain the really abstract concepts plainly, I wouldn't have been able to answer most of those questions for someone if they'd asked me. But what really amazed me reading all of those questions was just how hard English is. That's one of life's truly great blessings, that I have the lingua franca of the modern world as my native tongue. Such a great language, English, probably the most expressive language there is, but at a price. I wouldn't want to learn to speak English the hard way. French will be hard enough, and it is very easy compared to English. At least English doesn't have fucking gender in nouns. What a pain. English does have the most words of any language, though, by quite a margin. And we use a lot of them, too. Or at least I do. :-)
US Aiways / United merger announced yesterday. That will be a big airline. I hope they adopt the US Airways colors instead of the United colors. They blow.
I'm sure that more mergers would follow (I said would, not will, since it is far from certain this will go through; that's just the sort of subtle difference that the guy on the BBC site talked about!). Just to register my predictions now so I can dazzle you all later: AA+DL, NW+CO+AS, TW+HP. We'll see how things go....
OK, I've run out of things to talk about. More or less. Also, it's an hour and a half now since I started (I've been chatting!), way longer than it usually takes me to do these, so I'm rather weary of the project. And, most important of all, it's getting to be late and I have a new book that I am eager to begin reading. So I'm going to leave this entry at that.
Bon soir.
Cool Memorial Day weekend.
Where else in the world do bus drivers sing French songs while driving, and turn and salute the passengers at stops? Where else does a drugstore owner confide that medicine instructions are all "a bunch of bullshit?" Where else do panhandlers ask for American Express? Where else do police officers still carry revolvers? And where else in the world do twelve year-old kids prowling around downtown at 12:30 at night point to a Mercedes convertible and whisper that it is "une voiture super-cool" to one another?
Only Montréal, nowhere else.
It was a totally spur-of-the moment thing. Around 6:30 Friday night, Dad and I were debating what we should do for weekend fun, and by 7:00 we were cruising up the highway. We took VIA's overnight train from Toronto. It left Union Station at 11:30 and arrived into Gare Centrale at 7:45 the next morning. We had a private cabin with fold-out bunk bed, sink, and toilet. The car had two lounges and a dome oberservation deck on top. I can tell you, that is the way to travel, bar none. Dad allowed as how it was better than his last train ride, about thirty years ago between Reno and Salt Lake City in a box car in summer. I would love to do the Canadian transcontinental train that way someday, from Toronto to Vancouver. That would be amazing. Or the Indian Pacific train from Sydney to Perth. Like my friend Matt pointed out, I half expected for someone to turn up murdered or see someone walking through the hall with a briefcase handcuffed to his wrist. Just as a subliminal thing, I didn't really actively think about it until he pointed it out. But he was right, as usual.
The way back on Sunday, in coach, during the day, was less pleasurable, though. I think we were seated in the screaming four year-old girl section. Too much energy.
Although our time in the city was less than thirty hours, I really felt like we were there for a long time. When you are on the ground in a place, downtown, dressed, awake, and ready to go, at 8:00 in the morning, you can get a lot done, especially if you don't go to bed until 1:30. Mostly we walked around, around McGill, around the Golden Sqaure mile, downtown (Centre-Ville), Vieux-Montréal, île-Ste-Hélène, and the Université de Montréal neighborhood in Côte-des-Neiges, which is an area I really like. We also took the métro and bus a lot. The tourist passes are tremendous bargains, never buy individual tickets. Unless you are only going to ride once or twice, which is unlikely.
It will be a great time going to school there. I've got to return my immigration application p.d.q.
Hey, that could be province du Québec.... :-)
Seriously, though, I kept on thinking "What a cool city!" This time I had the opportunity to hike up rue University (literally "up," it goes up the side of Mount Royal) and see my probable digs for next year. I'm gonna need a big backpack, I'm not going to want to make a whole lot of trips from the lower campus downtown up to the residence halls, especially in winter. I wonder if there is bus service.... Oh, well, after first year I'll have to live in an apartment off-campus anyway, probably way off-campus, so I'd better get used to packing for the day. It's a scenic hike up to the residences, though, right past the Royal Victoria Hospital, which is a truly imposing piece of architecture. And I'll bet the view from the top of the dorm buildings facing downtown could be pretty cool.
Great trip, and an unexpected surprise. Unfortunately, when we got back home, we found that our house had been robbed, which took some of the frosting off the cake, but not too much. Shit happens and this particular shitting ass hole is probably going to prison for a good while.
On the plus side, my friends and I made a really cool Spanish Inquisition video for European History class today. It was a lot of fun. And nobody will expect it.
Uhh...hi. It's been a while.
Sorry about that.
I've graduated, you see. Back to being a Freshman again. Or a U1 as we are called at McGill, which does lack some imagination. But it's better than "plebe," which is what my two friends Nick and Kurt are right now, at their summer of hell at Annapolis. Hang in there, guys.
They left two weeks ago, I think. It seems longer. Early. They're incommunicado now, being programmed for military life. That sucks ass for them, but they did choose it. The rest of us civilians don't leave for our futures until August, I just about last of all, August 28. That's coming up pretty soon, actually. Summer is nearly half over. I'm excited, though. I got my Canadian Student Authorization (i.e., my visa) on Thursday, which is a relief. I'm good to go now.
I'm going back up to Montréal this week, on Thursday, with Mom (at long last, as you'll know if you've followed this site for a while). Just a fast trip for her to get a taste of the place. And for me to get a taste of the drive involved. We're seizing the opportunity to get some culture, though. The Musée des Beaux-Arts is having a special exhibition of late 19th, early 20th century art, titled "From Renoir to Picasso," which spans my favorite period in art, so it should be very interesting. You can read about it the MBAM's web site.
A little culture from time to time is good. The week after the last Montréal trip, Dad and I went to see the season finale for the Buffalo Philharmonic. Seeing classical music performed live is always thrilling for me, and this was an especially exciting concert: Prokofiev's film score to Eisenstein's Alexander Nevsky was played while the film was projected onto a screen over the orchestra, which was very novel. It was almost a sensory overload: the orchestra, the conductor (Joanne Falletta, America's top woman conductor, who was excellent), the film itself, and the subtitles (the movie was Russian of course). The music is absolutely mesmeriznig, if you aren't familiar with it, and the movie was a fascinating look at Stalin-era propaganda, as well as truly innovative cinematograpjy. The invading Teutonic knights were shown as priest-ridden and brutal, the Russians as earthly and communal. Most fascinating to me was the insistence by one of the citizens of Novgorod that the Germans would not attack becuase the Russians had signed a treaty with them. Needless to say, the Germans did invade against the terms of the treaty, just as they did the very year after Alexander Nevsky hit the Soviet theaters, to similar disbelief. Amazing. I would recommend it highly. Here are some clips to whet your appetites ("The Battle on the Ice" is the most exciting).
The end of school was good. Amazing that it really did come. The senior class trip to Cedar Point was a lot of fun. No, I didn't ride the Millenium Force and, yes, I wish I had. It was only a month old when we were there, so it was just a little too trendy. It looked fucking awesome, but not worth three hours in line to my mind, though everyone I talked to who rode it insisted that it was. It had been a long time since I had last ridden a roller coaster, and it was my first time to Cedar Point, so it was still great. The Raptor and Mantis were both fantastic, and really more creative than the Millenium Force, which was just fast and tall, but didn't appear to have much in the way of fantastic loops and turns and whatnot. At 92 MPH, it's probably better that way, though. But I still want to ride it. I also rode the (relatively) new Power Tower (down), which was great, even though it was freezing and raining when I rode it. Should have ridden the Demon Drop first, though, it just didn't seem that cool after the Power Tower.
Commencement went well. Didn't make the top three, so I got to be anonymous. I think I was fourth or maybe fifth. I haven't seen my final transcript, though, so I don't know. Just as well. There have been a fair number of parties in the last few weeks. Lots of food and fun, and not a few people trying chemically to purge all memory of high school. Scary.
Anyway, that about brings you all up to date, though in a very hurried way. I would have liked to dedicate way more space to each idea in here, but that is what happens when you procrastinate. Maybe I'll elaborate next time. But until then....
Today in History:
In 1956, the Italian liner Andrea Doria sank after colliding with the Swedish ship Stockholm off the New England coast.
In 2000, Air France's Concorde crashed after take-off from Charles de Gaulle airport in Paris. There were no survivors.
They are equivalent in their way, two respective peaks of luxury gone wrong, though today's disaster claimed nearly two and a half times as many lives. And something else as well, something far less tangible, but no less real. Concorde, for me at least, represents the greatest that modern Western Civilization has to offer, a product of our industrial might with practical capabilities, but an amazingly beautiful one, which carries with it all of our most entrenched modern mythologies of speed and power, glamor, sophistication, and the romance of travel to fabled lands. Paris! London! New York! Concorde is larger than life, more than the sum of its thousands and thousands of parts.
How much of that mythology has been wiped away by this? Will anyone be able to look at Concorde quite so innocently ever again? Anyone with even a passing acquaintance with European politics should be immediatly pessimistic about her future. Decisions on these things are made on almost purely emotional bases in Europe. Yesterday's grounding of one British Airways Concorde because of wing crackage was unfortunate timing. Although most certainly this accident had nothing to do with the wings, and everything to do with the left hand engine leaving a trail of fire longer than the aircraft itself behind it (have you seen the picture?), the uncertainty is there. I'm afraid Concorde may have her wings clipped, and, sadly, not so many years before she would have retired away in dignity and with ceremony.
Already the vultures are circling. I don't mean just lawyers, though I'm sure they are coming in from all corners, but the demagogues, the ignorant prattling activists that CNN managed to conjure out of the woodwork to cast aspersions over one of the true wonders of the world. Her reputation will be dragged through the mud, every emergency landing, blown tire, and burnt meal examined, scrutinized. It's all immensely sad. Like the last three major aviation disasters, TWA 800, the Swissair tragedy which affected me so, and the Egyptair crash, this flight had New York as an endpoint, so no doubt we will be treated to the spectacle of Rudy Guiliani carrying the burden of all New Yorkers on his shoulders. I like hizzonor, it's true, but he's never so hard to stand as when he springs into action at JFK, looking shaken, as though he hasn't slept in days (which was probably true in the case of the TWA crash), modeling his empathy for all the registered voters.
And let us not forget the 113 souls lost. They were all Germans as I understand it, bound for a cruise ship in New York for a journey to Ecuador and the Galapagos. The trip of a lifetime, to be sure. It's a distant memory now, though.
Watching the footage of the crash scene from the helicopters overhead, on either CNN or Fox News depending on which one was outraging me the least at that moment, I was struck by how beautiful the French landscape was, even in the ex-urban area of Vald'oise outside of the airport, and what a shocking blot on it this blackened, smouldering mess was. And, even more disturbing, was that that scar in the landscape was once a most beautiful machine. I brought up a photo of her on Airliners.net, but could not reconcile the images.
Until the photo of her crashing was released, that is. Two Hungarian spotters, enthusiasts just like me, snapped a picture of Concorde, flames shooting out her engines, heading for terra firma at an alarming rate. The photo has a sort of ethereal quality to it, which makes it appear like nothing more than a bad dream. The photo made a significant impact on me, disturbed me deeply to be honest.
As you may know from reading this site for a while (if you haven't, check the archives), few things really rock me to my foundations as much as an air disaster. Something that I love so much going so horribly wrong is a terrible emotional strain on me. The fact that something as mythical as Concorde - she is the Holy Grail for spotters (and I have never seen her) was involved makes it all the worse.
On the TV, one of the reporters on the scene commented that departing aircraft were continuously passing right overhead the crash scene. Now, I flew over the USAir 427 crash scene near Pittsburgh the spring after that happened, and it was very unnerving. Imagine flying over a still-burning crash site, of an aircraft you probably saw taking off in the first place (Concorde turns heads). I can't even comprehend the horror.
I've run out of space, and in fact I'm seriously overflowing, so I think I'll end it here before I become even more melodramatic. I had a wonderful time in Montréal last week, and will try to relate its events to you all next week, but I think you can understand why I couldn't tonight. Until then....
I know, it's been almost two months. I barely even remember writing that last entry, though I'm rather pleased at how good it is (must have been good stuff I was smoking). I have had rather good reasons for not writing. Well, at least for the first month and a half.
First delaying factor: computer troubles. Yes, it's true, I know you wouldn't believe it. Frankly, with all the technical problems I've had over the years, it's a damn wonder this web page even exists, that's all I've got to say. There's some content on here that's pushing five years old, and there have been lots of technical issues come and gone since then. So if you like the site, be thankful.
Second delaying factor: university life, or the transition to it rather. I am writing this from the other side. If I look out my window (and crane my neck), I can see the search-light from Place Ville-Marie. Pretty far out, eh? Needless to say, any promises I made in here long ago about things I was going to tell you about, most likely my July trip up here, are all null and void now, generally becuase I've totally forgotten now what I would have written, and, specifically in the case of the trip report, because it would be semi-redundant since I do live here in Montréal now. I'll just give a shout out to Charlotte, our wonderful host, and call that good. Thanks for everything, Charlotte!
I don't even know where to begin to bring you up to date on what has been happening here, so I think the best thing to do would be just not to try real hard. :-)
Classes are good, though not entirely what I had in mind. Registration was, surprise, rather chaotic and left me a bit in the lurch. The good news is that my AP credits got me out of a full year of study and put me directly into my History major, so that's a cool hunk of cash saved, as well as a fairly tiny bit of prestige. I am taking French, for six hours a week, and it seems to be going OK. I'm sort of disoriented about it all right now, but Mme. Pellerin assures us all that we will be surprised how much French we will be able to speak by the course's end around Christmas-time. We'll see what we'll see.... It would certainly be easier to do what most of the many Americans, and Canadians for that matter, here are doing and just envelop myself in the McGill caccoon, live life out here in the English ghetto, and not give a shit. It would be easy enough to do, but I find the idea of not being able so speak the language of a place completely intolerable. So I'll put up with being disoriented for a while. I suspect I am learning, just not perceptably. Yet. Test Friday, let us hope it will be perceptable then.
I had wanted to take Intro. to European History, a prereq for most other European history courses, European history being my anticipated concentration, but it got full unnaturally early, so I will have to take the additional section offered next term, at the same time as its compliment, Modern European History. This isn't necessarily ideal, but it will work. In the mean time, I'm getting a prereq for my second minor area of historical concentration - I've chosen Canadian history - out of the way, and taking some European history courses that don't require the Intro. and Modern courses; France to 1789, which I am enjoying tremendously so far, and a 300 level course, World War I, which has a substantial reading load, as one would expect, but which is very stimulating and in-depth. The professor is also my faculty advisor, which is how I got into the class in the first place, so that's an OK deal. All my profs seem very good to me. We'll see how things continue to be.
All work and no play makes Evan a dull boy, of course, and I came to McGill to experience Montréal, and I have been quite a little bit. I've explored a few new areas off the city (as well as the airport, wink wink), which pleases me very much, as well as its entertainment (read: alcohol) and cultural options. Last night I went to the Orchestre symphonique de Montréal concert at Place des Arts, an all-Beethoven concert (including the Fifth Symphony and Third Piano Concerto). I went with some people from rez, all classical fans, so that was nice, though I did somewhat miss Dad's hillbilly-cum-elitist snob sarcastic asides (favorites from Alexander Nevsky: "Wow, she must be the mezzo-soprano!" "Quite a senior string section, haven't they?" "Wow, an Asian cellist, who would have thought!"). Oh well, you can't have it all.
I hear a good conversation brewing in the common room, so I'm going to go investigate that. I've talked quite enough already. More next week. And overhauls to bring the site up to date are on the way too.
Wow...what a week.
Last Thursday, my last living hero, former Canadian prime minister Pierre Trudeau, died at his home about four blocks from my residence on rue des Pins. If you are an American reading this, you probably didn't even hear about it becuase, let's face it, Canada is off the radar, inexplicably and unfairly. There's so much interesting that happens here, Canadians don't believe it and Americans don't know. If more Americans knew about Canada, I think they'd find it as worth following as Israel, Northern Ireland, and other media favourites. And certainly closer to home than any of the above.
But I digress.
Hero is probably the wrong word, but he was someone who fascinated me very much and who I found much in to admire. And the fact that he was a living presence made him much closer than, say, François Mitterrand. Moving to Montréal, I was anticipating eagerly the very-Montréal experience of encountering the PM on one of his frequent walks through the city. But my Canadian death touch spoiled that all. As you may know, the deaths of two other famous Montréalers strangely coincided with my presence in the city at various times: ex-mayor Jean Drapeau in August 1999 and hockey legend Maurice Richard this May. Both had elaborate funerals at Notre-Dame Basilica, which I read about in The Gazette, wishing I could be there, but had just missed.
Well I don't have to tell you that Trudeau's trumped them all. And this time I could go, I wouldn't have missed it for the world. I didn't have my chance meeting with Trudeau in the street, but I did have my few seconds with his flag-draped coffin in city hall on Monday, along with thousands of other Montréalers who came to pay their respects. Saturday and Sunday he lay in state under the Peace Tower of Parliament in Ottawa, where 75,000 Canadians, and I daresay a few other nationalities as well, filed past to wish their leader the best. And yesterday I joined the thousands upon thousands packed into Place d'Armes in front of Notre-Dame for the funeral, watching it on the rock concert-style screens set up for the occasion, packed in like sardines below the Canadian, Québec, and Montréal flags flying at half-mast.
It was truly incredible, really beyond words. Justin Trudeau's speech was every big as great as the media has pumped it to be. My favorite moment, however, was when the Gregorian Benediction suddenly gave way to "Oh Canada" on Notre-Dame's estimable pipe organ, a super emotional moment as all of us outside began to sing the anthem, some people in French, some in English. The electricity in the air was really indescribable! I won't waste a lot of words retelling everything that happened, the journalists have already done that and you can read about it yourselves.
Although the funeral was, of course, a sad occasion I went away feeling uplifted. The collective grieving of the people was really inspiring, the sense of community, Lucien Bouchard's hysterics notwithstanding. And I got to see some famous people in person, too! Besides, of course, the famous bereaved family, a lot of them were Canadian political figures who would only be interesting to Canadians or political junkies like myself. Among them: Governor-General Adrienne Clarkson and boy-toy author John Ralston Saul, Former Prime Ministers John Turner and Brian Mulroney, cabinet ministers Alan Rock (Health) and Pierre Pettigrew (International Trade), Québec Opposition Leader Jean Charest (or the back of his head anyway), Newfoundland Premier Brian Tobin, Federal Opposition Leader Stockwell Day, and Prime Minister Jean Chrétien and wife Aline. Among the more internationally-renowned individuals, Leonard Cohen, Jimmy Carter, and, get this, Fidel Castro. Yes, I saw Fidel Castro! The boogeyman himself! Needless to say, the opportunities to see old Fidel are fading fast, not that they were every really all that good, especially for Americans, so that was really amazing and somewhat astonishing. I still haven't really parsed it in my mind yet.
All in all, an amazing experience, as a send-off for a larger-than-life figure close to my heart and imagination, for the emotion and community, for the place in history, and for the peripheral benefits (Castro! Before my own eyes!). And I got pictures which may or may not come out. I'll share them next time, OK?
Oh, and in all the excitement and catching-up from the last two entries, I've forgotten to tell you the really big and good news from my life, the birth of my cousin, Clayton Michael McElravy, healthy and happy on August 29. Alas I couldn't be there, but I had a chance to see him two weeks later on a lightening trip home. :-)
I haven't written since when? October 3, in fact. Guess what? University means work. What a notion. And, at any rate, when I'm not working there's actually stuff to do in Montréal, unlike at home. I mean, a lot of the things to do have stayed the same. Drugs. Booze. Napster. But they are better and/or legal here. And there are a variety of new and exciting passtimes as well. Accessible airplanes. Live music. Girls with teeth. Yay!
So what have I missed commenting on here? Two elections. Woo hoo, go George and Jean. Probably another election before too long. Go Bernard. Holidays. Yup, another exciting New Year's on the couch. Some travel in there. A330 kicks ass. Go Airbus. Travel delays suck. Boo, down with Air Canada. Hmm...probably some marginal personal experiences. Got drunk with a professor. Ate haggis. (Not on same night.) Honestly, the best sign that things have been pretty entertaining is that I can't actually remember anything to tell you.
So how has school been then, you ask? Ça va bien. Trop de travail. J'ai eu des professeurs ennuyeux, des professeurs interessants. Le français, c'est une langue difficile. Yadda, yadda.
Oh yeah, just to clear the air of any misconceptions before they fester into nasty rumours, I do say eh but I don't say a-boat. So fuck off. And they are traffic cones, not pylons.
I don't think my dietary requirements are being sufficiently met by the cafeteria food, despite the fact that I am virtually the only one I know who will eat mostly anything. Interesting being suddenly being a relatively non-picky eater after years of giving my mother grey hairs. Fancy that. I'm also not getting nearly enough sleep. Here it is quarter past midnight and I have no expectation of being in bed for at least another hour. So if all this here strikes you as very weird, please understand.
So basically I'm scraping the absolute bottom of things to tell you that are either interesting or acceptable to put on here and that I remember. So I guess I'll call this good for another little while. I'd tell you to go and look around the site, but honestly I haven't changed too much. I've kept the Aviation Travelling page continuously updated all along, you may have noticed. Changed a lot of the pictures there as well. That's about it, really. I've been playing with yet another redesign to address some of the complaints I have about this existing site (e.g., I hate it). Maybe by the Leiberman administration I'll have that ready for you. I'm also looking at getting a new scanner so I can put pictures up here again, as well. Airliner photos peut-être, or pix of my new environs and amis. We'll see. Anyway, good to talk to you all again. Stay out of trouble.
Valentine's Day. Bummer.
OK, I'm sure no one got that particular pop culture reference so I'll just let it slide this time. Really, very obscure. At any rate, I didn't do anything romantic for the holiday, I am sad to say, since I don't have a girlfriend - or a boyfriend come to think of it. I suppose I could have a g/f if I wanted one, might even be able to think of at least one excellent candidate, but.... Ça va....
Qui a le droit d' faire ça à un enfant qui croit vraiment c' que disent les grands? On passe sa vie à dire merci. Merci à qui, à quoi ? À faire la pluie et le beau temps pour des enfants à qui l'on ment. That's my new song obsession, Qui a le droit by Patrick Bruel. If you live pretty much anywhere besides France or Québec, you'll never find it in the stores, so download it from Napster while you still can. He was apparently about as big as it got in French pop music about ten years ago but he's still good. The French have long memories, which is good since, sadly, their last moment of national glory was Austerlitz. I've also been grooving hard on Louise Attaque lately. I can't catch more than two damn words they are singing in Tu dis rien but I think it may become my new anthem anyway. I bought their first two albums for Mom for a, uh, President's Day present. I think she'll dig them also.
French test tomorrow, which I perhaps ought to be studying for now, but frankly I'm a bit burned out studying having just finished reading the absolute worst translation ever of Plutarch's Life of Julius Caesar. It included such delightful, if non-English passages as "The cause of Caesar's ill-will unto Sylla, was by means of marriage: for Marius the elder, married his father's own sister, by whom he had Marius the younger, wherby Caesar and he were cousin-germans. Sylla being troubled in weighty matters, putting to death so many of his enemies, when he came to be conqueror, he made no reckoning of Caesar." I think I like the gratuitous commas the best, though the unrevised ablative absolutes are compelling also. Brought back many happy memories of four years of high school Latin.
If my French test tomorrow promises to be exciting, the real fireworks will be Friday, when I have two midterms back to back in the morning, followed by a mad dash to the airport. Yes, next week is Reading Week, Canada's answer to spring break, conveniently scheduled in February. (Some people have actually been referring to it as Spring Break, which, in light of the -40º F windchills and 3 mm of freezing rain this weekend, is a bit of a stretch.) Being a bit short on shekels this month, I'm simply going home instead of to Cuba or some other warm weather paradise. Nonetheless, I'm looking forward to the experience intensely. The next 48 hours will be long, but if I survive my 33 minute connection in Detroit, all will be well in the world.
It'll be interesting spending a random week around home. I've been thinking about home a bit more than usual lately, for no reason I can establish. Two of my friends have journals on their websites now that I have been following more enthusiastically than I should be, to get a taste of the experience of still being around the old country. Seems so foreign to me now. I wouldn't trade places with them for much of anything (maybe my own personal space shuttle), and perhaps that is the reason for the cheap thrills. (See for youself: Phil's and Timi's.) Having said all this, I really don't have any ideas what I will do to keep myself busy. Probably a dry week too. Bummer.
Anyway, I think I may go now, peut-être pour étudier but probably to download more music before the zero hour for Napster. Talk to you all later.
Wow, I can't believe it has been over a month since I've updated. Where has time gone? Well, I've mostly been very, very busy. I've probably mentioned this before, but it seems like I have a lot more work than my friends at other universities. McGill really seems to be a very demanding school in terms of work load, which I guess is one way to keep its reputation for high academic standards, since it certainly doesn't have any money to bolster its programs. On the other hand, I get the idea that Harvard is something of a cake walk for undergraduates. Virtually no one is admitted but if you are, you can basically spend most of your time smoking drugs and occupying administration buildings. Of course, that could be a nasty rumour spread by strung-out McGillians, though look at all those damn airheaded movie stars that have studied there.
I don't think Harvard has had any students occupying administration buildings lately, either, which I think is rather a pity. I have some Marxist friends who consider seizing the student society building from time to time, which I think would be a splendid undertaking so long as I didn't have to participate, but they are saving all their Get Out of Jail Free cards for Québec City next month. I myself think that hemispheric free trade is a splendid idea and that their efforts would be much better spent liberating my $300 in annual compulsory society fees but I'm not a member of the vanguard of the proletariat so my opinion doesn't count much.
Reading Week back in Pennsylvania was lovely, if you've been wondering. I really didn't do anything at all to speak of, which was what I sort of had expected. I drove around a lot, put well over 1,000 miles on the car. Highlight of the week was probably driving out to Penn State to visit my friend Paul, then driving back across the state to visit my friend Kal at Slippery Rock, possibly the most boring place in the entire world. I've never been anywhere quite so demoralized on a Friday night in my life. Made Warren seem positively poised to burst by comparison. We spent several hours trying to find something entertaining to do or drink, but the best we could do was to smoke some cigarettes and get kicked out of the gymnasium, neither of which was really particularly diverting, since I don't really like smoking or gyms. It made me very glad I go to school in Montréal. Their dorms also made me appreciate the charm and character of Douglas Hall considerably, and not the least for the greatly more stimulating neighbors that I have.
That being said, I'm still eager to move out in a month and a bit. Apartment dwelling sounds so much better, especially since I'm really very fond of my roomates, both good Doug friends. We almost had ourselves an apartment today, but after the landlady broke at least four Régie de Logement regulations in 30 seconds, and refused to admit as much when I called her on them, and we realized she raised the rent by $500 dollars a month in the middle of our conversation, I vetoed the place since the last thing I'm going to have time to do next year is fight with some dog-faced Mme. Thenardier. Of course, I'm expecting to get hustled by local landlords, but not to take it totally in the rear. Having said that, despite a bedroom arrangement that we thought could potentially incite hostilities, it was really a very, very nice apartment and in a tremendously good location on rue St-Urbain. Oh well, we'll get ourselves a winning place, you'll see.
Like I said above, I've been very busy lately but have had some time for a bit of recreation. Last weekend, our gang tried a new bar, Bar St-Laurent. It was a total punk place, everyone had two foot high pink mohawks (or, alternatively, the skinhead look), leather jackets with stainless steel rivets and spikes, steel-toed boots, and piercings aplenty. It was like that bar out of the second Crocodile Dundee movie. I felt like I had just landed at Heathrow circa 1985. They were playing deafening punk music and had Terminator 2 projected on one wall, which was surreal as hell. I thought the style went out when I was in the first grade, but it was still pretty cool. I've never felt so out of my element ever, but I'd go back. It was the ultimate Tourist Story, made me feel macho and tough.
Then this weekend, last night, we had our St. Patrick's Day celebration. We were going to go out and drink green beer and sing silly songs with lyrics that make no sense - sort of like our Robbie Burns day outing except with way more people, a different accent, and no haggis - but ended up at a friend's apartment on des Pins eating homemade burritos and drinking red wine, which needless to say is not the traditional St. Patrick's revelry. Oh well, we're just cutting edge, that's all.
Anywhosis, here it is quarter after twelve - which means it's now actually the 19th. I've gone to bed at 4:00 in the morning three nights in a row now, so I believe I'll get an early night tonight so I'm good and fresh for the next week. We've been having a lot of false fire alarms at grim hours lately, so it could very well be wishful thinking, but here's hoping. Until I write again,
Evan
P.S., new song obsession: Made in Québec by Le Surnois. I love French rap!
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