Ah. And so another one of life's weeks has come to an end. I wonder if it is good to have so much adventure crammed into one, rather than have it more evenly dispersed through the other 51 weeks in a year. This was an amazing trip because it was interesting and relaxing at the same time. While it was only a week, I think that it's prepped me for future travels more than Europe has. I think it'll prove especially useful for my IDS placement year because of what it has shown me about how I interact with people from different cultures in their setting, and also about spending time in a developing country in general. I wondered what topics were taboo, and how much people wanted to talk to an outsider, especially one disguised as an American tourist. But, I found that when I was interested, they were happy to tell me their perspective of Jamaica- and in the end I have a variety of different stories. They tell us to be aware of variability within a culture, but it had never really been concrete until this trip. I'm rambling a bit about just a couple of thoughts this trip prompted, and I'm sure more will come as I further disect my fabulous Jamaican holiday. It's not a cohesive Kate-esque blog, with events detailed consecutively, but I suppose the "no problems" attitude has taken me over.
One love.
2.25.2004
2.19.2004
Notes from a Small Island
Oh! The contradiction of life and unlife that is Jamaica. I've said it before and I'll say it again (with slight variation), that I find it very strange to be in a place where two worlds collide like they do here. We learn about inequality, but in rarely Canada do you see it through such stark contrast. KFC, McDonalds one block, corrugated iron towns the next. It is strange that the best maintained infrastructure here are the advertising billboards. Driving over a potholey road, inundated by donunt and mango sales people at every intersection, you don't expect to look up and see something shiny and toothy.
After learning a bit about Jamaica before I left Toronto, it is interesting to arrive here and talk to the locals about it- what the problems are, where they stem from and what the answer is. The answer to the first two questions is a long enough story, that the third is difficult to get to. All it prompts is further discussion of the first two questions. In addition, the issues brought up in these discussions differ greatly from those in the books and movies I've taken in
The sense of ickyness is almost paralyzing, not that I would be able to do anything anyway in my week here. Will I even have a nice conclusive statement at the end of it? At the same time, I'm more relaxed than I have been since leaving BC, adventure of any kind nearly guarantees it.
Thanks to the Hilton boys (perhaps not as sexy as Paris...) and the rest currently contributing to my positive Pina Colada Karma.
After learning a bit about Jamaica before I left Toronto, it is interesting to arrive here and talk to the locals about it- what the problems are, where they stem from and what the answer is. The answer to the first two questions is a long enough story, that the third is difficult to get to. All it prompts is further discussion of the first two questions. In addition, the issues brought up in these discussions differ greatly from those in the books and movies I've taken in
The sense of ickyness is almost paralyzing, not that I would be able to do anything anyway in my week here. Will I even have a nice conclusive statement at the end of it? At the same time, I'm more relaxed than I have been since leaving BC, adventure of any kind nearly guarantees it.
Thanks to the Hilton boys (perhaps not as sexy as Paris...) and the rest currently contributing to my positive Pina Colada Karma.
2.18.2004
Nearly A Rasta
Oh! The Juxtaposition of life and unlife that is Kingston. I'm sitting here full of all you can eat Lobster from the Kingston Hilton's kitchens (the hook up is fabulous fabulous), and I have a free bed here tonight, with someone to pick up my barely used towels in the morning. All this after spending the day in downtown Kingston, and Trench Town where Bob Marley got his start. Again it brings me to this question, what is more important, achievement of happiness or escape from poverty? And how does Kingston fall into all of this? Tomorrow I am going to see how the rich Jamaicans live, looking down on the rest of Kingston from their million dollar homes.
Thanks to my dad, who always makes me ask questions.
Do not disturb.
Thanks to my dad, who always makes me ask questions.
Do not disturb.
Kate In Jamaica
Drinking a bottle of Wata, quenching my thirst the way nature intended. Have just arrived in Kingston, driven past the slums and arrived at the Hilton. Am too ridiculously excited to type.
See you soon, browner and more aware.
See you soon, browner and more aware.
2.10.2004
Holla Back
What is really Fabulous Fabulous is how Fabulous Fabulous has taken off. I love it. It's always been my goal to penetrate and integrate. Legacizing, and I'm only 20.
Listening: Be Careful of My Heart, by Tracey Chapman
Reading: Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates, by Tom Robbins (thanks Sean)
Breathing: carefully
Thinking: 1000 thoughts a second, as per the usue. Wouldn't it be nice if they were useful?
Listening: Be Careful of My Heart, by Tracey Chapman
Reading: Fierce Invalids Home from Hot Climates, by Tom Robbins (thanks Sean)
Breathing: carefully
Thinking: 1000 thoughts a second, as per the usue. Wouldn't it be nice if they were useful?
Blog Karma Returns
And today, just because of my previously mentioned blog karma, I have had one of my specific questions answered. Today in Environment and Development, Tony Price basically answered for me the research question that I've got to tackle for an upcoming paper in his class. Thank you Tony, but it's a bit sketchy really...I can't just regurgetate everything that he's said.
Oh, and Jamaica tickets arrived by courier today. Two fabulouses in one moment: getting something from a courier and getting tickets for Jamaica!
Oh, and Jamaica tickets arrived by courier today. Two fabulouses in one moment: getting something from a courier and getting tickets for Jamaica!
2.09.2004
Yes or No?
I find myself in a slightly paradoxical state, unable to find the answers to my questions. I know that it has been discussed before, but as usual, only when it relates to me do I really start to contemplate it. Even though we live in a knowledge rich, info-at-our-fingertips type of society, it is still a seemingly endless quest to find what information I am looking for. For example, I am trying to plan my imminent reading week trip to Jamaica, and am concerned primarily about two things: transportation and accommodation. So, I look at the internet, I read travel books, I talk to my Jamaican friends Traci and Alex. All I was is for someone to tell me, “this is the best and cheapest place to stay, this is how much it costs, and this is how you reserve.” Instead I get, “you could stay here or here or here”, or even worse, “they said you should stay there? No, you should…”. There is simply too much information to get through, or not a specific enough answer to your specific question.
Even with this perceived deficiency of information, everything you could ever want to know is still out there. My friend Ayal said to me once after I told him I wanted to revolutionize development, that there was no way either of us, no matter how creative and innovative we both are, are going to come up with something new. It is as though the creation of ideas is at a limit, and what is thought of now is simply a progression or adaptation of something that has already been thought. I mean, who the hell is going to invent a new political ideology? Or create a new colour? [watch me eat my words in the future].
At the same time though, epiphany and eureka moments still prevail when you look at knowledge, ideas and information in relation to yourself. Each time an idea is integrated, or you gain further insight, you can feel the satisfaction of making the world a better place, if only because you have that much of a greater understanding. And so, I will continue to ask specific questions, even if it takes me longer than desired to find the answer, and I will continue to feel self satisfaction when I think of something potentially earth shatteringly original, moments before I read it three paragraphs further in the article I’m reading. And I will continue believing that reality is created only in relation to the individual.
Even with this perceived deficiency of information, everything you could ever want to know is still out there. My friend Ayal said to me once after I told him I wanted to revolutionize development, that there was no way either of us, no matter how creative and innovative we both are, are going to come up with something new. It is as though the creation of ideas is at a limit, and what is thought of now is simply a progression or adaptation of something that has already been thought. I mean, who the hell is going to invent a new political ideology? Or create a new colour? [watch me eat my words in the future].
At the same time though, epiphany and eureka moments still prevail when you look at knowledge, ideas and information in relation to yourself. Each time an idea is integrated, or you gain further insight, you can feel the satisfaction of making the world a better place, if only because you have that much of a greater understanding. And so, I will continue to ask specific questions, even if it takes me longer than desired to find the answer, and I will continue to feel self satisfaction when I think of something potentially earth shatteringly original, moments before I read it three paragraphs further in the article I’m reading. And I will continue believing that reality is created only in relation to the individual.
2.02.2004
21: DLF
It's almost Jess Zimbler's Birthday. Happy birthday, Jess. Dude like fuck. CU on the Flipside. This post could be all inside jokes, because that's a lot of what Jess's about, but instead I think perhaps I will talk about something else.
The thing that amazes me about Jess is that forever friends is really forever friends. She still has the notes I wrote her in High School. She still sends me letters today. And she reads my blogs. When we finished high school, and she went away, she remained more a fundemental part of "the group" than I did, even though I stayed in Vic. I admire her so much for the continuous effort she puts into loving people, even though they're not around her. Why can't I be like that?
And in a heart beat she will offer anything she has if you want it- perhaps an apartment in Montreal for May?
Anyway, this girl defines fabulous fabulous, and inspires me to love people still that I once loved in the past, and still technically love, but sometimes don't remember that I love.
The thing that amazes me about Jess is that forever friends is really forever friends. She still has the notes I wrote her in High School. She still sends me letters today. And she reads my blogs. When we finished high school, and she went away, she remained more a fundemental part of "the group" than I did, even though I stayed in Vic. I admire her so much for the continuous effort she puts into loving people, even though they're not around her. Why can't I be like that?
And in a heart beat she will offer anything she has if you want it- perhaps an apartment in Montreal for May?
Anyway, this girl defines fabulous fabulous, and inspires me to love people still that I once loved in the past, and still technically love, but sometimes don't remember that I love.
1.28.2004
Carpe Gingerale
When you blog it, it will come.
I was telling my friend Sean today (fabulous fabulous) that something good happens to me about ever 20 minutes. Hugh Grant in About A Boy divides the day into thirty minute blocks, and my mum suggests that one should reevaluate one's emotions approximately every 20 seconds, but twenty minutes is my measure. This morning, I was woken up with bacon, eggs and toast in bed, prepared by my fabulous fabulous roommate Kate. And then about twenty minutes later (give or take a couple of hours), I found a flight to Jamaica for $399. I had six twenty minute sections while in International Health Policy, and learned something new and fabulous fabulous (FF) during each block. And then afterwards, I ran into FF Sean who clued me into the fact that if I stuck around for about 20 minutes, I would find myself presented with an array of FF free food, presented to me in celebration of the incoming new principal of our school. It was well worth the 20 minute wait, primarily due to the bries, the tortellini, the sushi and the ghurkins. And then, right before my very eyes, I found a can of gingerale. The essence of serendipity. In the words of my FF roommate Mel, I decided to Carpe Gingerale.
I was telling my friend Sean today (fabulous fabulous) that something good happens to me about ever 20 minutes. Hugh Grant in About A Boy divides the day into thirty minute blocks, and my mum suggests that one should reevaluate one's emotions approximately every 20 seconds, but twenty minutes is my measure. This morning, I was woken up with bacon, eggs and toast in bed, prepared by my fabulous fabulous roommate Kate. And then about twenty minutes later (give or take a couple of hours), I found a flight to Jamaica for $399. I had six twenty minute sections while in International Health Policy, and learned something new and fabulous fabulous (FF) during each block. And then afterwards, I ran into FF Sean who clued me into the fact that if I stuck around for about 20 minutes, I would find myself presented with an array of FF free food, presented to me in celebration of the incoming new principal of our school. It was well worth the 20 minute wait, primarily due to the bries, the tortellini, the sushi and the ghurkins. And then, right before my very eyes, I found a can of gingerale. The essence of serendipity. In the words of my FF roommate Mel, I decided to Carpe Gingerale.
1.27.2004
Pray for Rain
My dad always makes fun of conversations about the weather, but the weather here this week is worth blogging about even! It started snowing yesterday, and still hasn't stopped. As the snowing technique changes, my roommates explain the difference between each type of snow. Who knew that there was a difference between frozen rain and hail. They're predicting an extra 15 to 20 centimeters tonight, and there was a dump of about the same yesterday. Looking out of my window at all the little matching houses makes me feel like I'm at a ski resort. Except for the lack of skiing.
It's funny how weather makes me think of god. Climate is probably the most significant thing that causes me to be skeptical of his existance. Seriously, if there is a god, how the hell can he justify this climactic variation. Who invents snow? Ridiculous. I guess you could say who invents famine- and I would say humans do, but we sure didn't invent snow.
Sitting in my cosy house, with plenty of food and a tv and computer for entertainment, no more than one km from school, I am baffled at how people survived in this weather with any less. Honestly. I just don't get it. I'm living in a city that pays for anti frostbite advertising on the radio, yet there is a city here, with people in it, and they survive.
I didn't realize when they said "snow" that it would have such an effect on my daily life. Thank heavens for pilates videos or I would emerge in May (cause that's when they say it'll be over) a hundred pounds heavier, and probably incapable of walking a distance longer than the living room to my bed room. And I wear touques and scarves and mits. In Vic it's fairly uncool to even wear a jacket, and here all my friends are running around in leg warmers and long johns. I said to Mel the other day that I'd always heard about this notion of "putting away your summer clothes", but never got it. Here I actually can't wear skirts. That's what the frostbite warnings tell me- skin exposed for 15mins plus results in amputation.
And the worst of it is that I'm craving gingerale.
It's funny how weather makes me think of god. Climate is probably the most significant thing that causes me to be skeptical of his existance. Seriously, if there is a god, how the hell can he justify this climactic variation. Who invents snow? Ridiculous. I guess you could say who invents famine- and I would say humans do, but we sure didn't invent snow.
Sitting in my cosy house, with plenty of food and a tv and computer for entertainment, no more than one km from school, I am baffled at how people survived in this weather with any less. Honestly. I just don't get it. I'm living in a city that pays for anti frostbite advertising on the radio, yet there is a city here, with people in it, and they survive.
I didn't realize when they said "snow" that it would have such an effect on my daily life. Thank heavens for pilates videos or I would emerge in May (cause that's when they say it'll be over) a hundred pounds heavier, and probably incapable of walking a distance longer than the living room to my bed room. And I wear touques and scarves and mits. In Vic it's fairly uncool to even wear a jacket, and here all my friends are running around in leg warmers and long johns. I said to Mel the other day that I'd always heard about this notion of "putting away your summer clothes", but never got it. Here I actually can't wear skirts. That's what the frostbite warnings tell me- skin exposed for 15mins plus results in amputation.
And the worst of it is that I'm craving gingerale.
1.26.2004
Chilean deli fights
Four day weekends are fanstastic because you can fill them up to the brim with fantastic things to do and they have more space than you ever possibly imagine...wait, they obviously don't, according to the decided lack of homework I accomplished this weekend. But I'm happy, and not too far behind, so that's what counts right?
This weekend had lots of varied elements of things that I really like: cute boys, Kensington Market, deli time, chilean wine and girl talk, bagels and lox, subways, pilates, L6, fake fur hats, bollywood, more subway, homemade Turkish food, "family" time, and laundry out the ying yang. Honerable mention goes to pillowfights, romantic comedy, a World Bank report on HIV/Aids in Africa and clean sheets.
Thank you so so so much to Saniye and the Yilmaz's for the tumble dryer and plethora of new tastes. Thank you thank you thank you!
Oh, and who the f**k is Bob?
This weekend had lots of varied elements of things that I really like: cute boys, Kensington Market, deli time, chilean wine and girl talk, bagels and lox, subways, pilates, L6, fake fur hats, bollywood, more subway, homemade Turkish food, "family" time, and laundry out the ying yang. Honerable mention goes to pillowfights, romantic comedy, a World Bank report on HIV/Aids in Africa and clean sheets.
Thank you so so so much to Saniye and the Yilmaz's for the tumble dryer and plethora of new tastes. Thank you thank you thank you!
Oh, and who the f**k is Bob?
1.22.2004
Shut up
Bla bla bla bla blaaa blaaa bla bla bla bla bla lbal bla bla lbal bla bla bla bla
bla bla. Bla bla alb alb alb. Bla bla. Bla! Bla bla lba bla bla bla bla bla bla bla
bla bla bla bla bla bla????
Things I feel like writing but don't want anyone to hear.
bla bla. Bla bla alb alb alb. Bla bla. Bla! Bla bla lba bla bla bla bla bla bla bla
bla bla bla bla bla bla????
Things I feel like writing but don't want anyone to hear.
1.20.2004
GP
And finally, the last of us has been converted. Kathryn. Hallelujah for more arbitrary opinions and incomplete thoughts, documented via insufficient use of the English language. Perhaps we can only express ourselves if we spend the big bucks?
As I watched the latest mainstream yay left propaganda (The Corporation) tonight, I couldn't help but wonder, how much did they spend on this film to get this message across? It was so glossy, undoubtedly calling on the manipulative media tactics that they spent considerable screen time trying to discredit. Does it really take that much money to say what you mean? People take you seriously if you put enough material together in witty enough ways, and pay enough copyright fees to have certain identifiable images such as Tiananmen Square in your production. They take you seriously when you shed your dreads and look classy in black, but write you off if you wear shredded mittens and hooded sweatshirts. Since when does a voice have to have an image? Am I any better in my dislike for alternative media and badly colour coordinated websites? It has to be beautiful for me to pay attention.
I constantly justify my habits of consumption through consideration of their contribution to my overall happiness, and my desire for ownership of beauty. I buy Dove (by unilever) because it looks nice. Such chic packaging. I smoked cigarettes (and don't laugh) in part because of their pristine and streamlined appearance. Telling myself it's okay to do things because they make me happy falls through every once in a while. And so, I haven't smoked a cigarette in a week (though their unique beauty calls to me every half hour!).
My acceptance of the status quo falters, more often lately and my perceptions of life occasionally expand beyond how it relates to me. In my indecision towards what is right and what is wrong, I can't say that it's okay to sit on the fence. I want to find a battle and fight it, which is why I joined the IDS program in the first place. But how do I know what battle to fight? What if I fight the wrong battle and win? What if I fight the right battle and lose?
This theme comes up over and over again, preventing me from taking actions. I see people around me so confident in their beliefs that they can chain themselves to an oil pump, risking the loss of their head!!! I am baffled by their confidences. Perhaps I should just read one side of the literature and confince myself of something sufficiently to try to do something about it. Or I could wait as I am for the idea that will revolutionize the world.
I am anxious to take action, and anxious that if I do, it won't be good enough. But seriously, what am I waiting for?
As I watched the latest mainstream yay left propaganda (The Corporation) tonight, I couldn't help but wonder, how much did they spend on this film to get this message across? It was so glossy, undoubtedly calling on the manipulative media tactics that they spent considerable screen time trying to discredit. Does it really take that much money to say what you mean? People take you seriously if you put enough material together in witty enough ways, and pay enough copyright fees to have certain identifiable images such as Tiananmen Square in your production. They take you seriously when you shed your dreads and look classy in black, but write you off if you wear shredded mittens and hooded sweatshirts. Since when does a voice have to have an image? Am I any better in my dislike for alternative media and badly colour coordinated websites? It has to be beautiful for me to pay attention.
I constantly justify my habits of consumption through consideration of their contribution to my overall happiness, and my desire for ownership of beauty. I buy Dove (by unilever) because it looks nice. Such chic packaging. I smoked cigarettes (and don't laugh) in part because of their pristine and streamlined appearance. Telling myself it's okay to do things because they make me happy falls through every once in a while. And so, I haven't smoked a cigarette in a week (though their unique beauty calls to me every half hour!).
My acceptance of the status quo falters, more often lately and my perceptions of life occasionally expand beyond how it relates to me. In my indecision towards what is right and what is wrong, I can't say that it's okay to sit on the fence. I want to find a battle and fight it, which is why I joined the IDS program in the first place. But how do I know what battle to fight? What if I fight the wrong battle and win? What if I fight the right battle and lose?
This theme comes up over and over again, preventing me from taking actions. I see people around me so confident in their beliefs that they can chain themselves to an oil pump, risking the loss of their head!!! I am baffled by their confidences. Perhaps I should just read one side of the literature and confince myself of something sufficiently to try to do something about it. Or I could wait as I am for the idea that will revolutionize the world.
I am anxious to take action, and anxious that if I do, it won't be good enough. But seriously, what am I waiting for?
1.19.2004
P. Lates
I go through phases of exercising my ass off, and then gaining it back. I always love the point where if I don't exercise that day, I feel it, and the endorphins really kick in when I do. Granted, my current "fitness regime" includes nothing but far too much pilates, but that's okay. Just 20 more sessions to a J.Lo bod.
Yay for more roomie bondage...I mean bonding material.
Yay for more roomie bondage...I mean bonding material.
1.16.2004
Filibusters and Quagmires
Home sick from work, and before I retreat into the terry cloth goodness that is my bed, let me jot something down about my perpetual selfcentredness. Please...if I'm being too egotistical any time (because there has been plenty of things stroking my ego lately), just tell me to snap out of it.
BLOG's are fantastically universal, unless one is reading something about something so unfortunatly specific that you need to have spent your life researching the topic in order to understand the entries of the obsessed. But, in general, one can always relate to them. It even goes farther than that- one can always read into a blog post and start thinking that the blogger is writing about them. It happens to me all the time. Someone will start talking about someone causing drama (unspecifically) at a party that I was at, and then I think it's me. Or, I can write a blog about postponing converstations and a fellow blogger can write a reply post, without seeking clarification that the post was relevant to our relationship. But, at the same time, sometimes you just know. You're just absolutely sure that it's about you, and then you can smile that you're worth being electronically documented, even if there are no names mentioned.
BLOG's are fantastically universal, unless one is reading something about something so unfortunatly specific that you need to have spent your life researching the topic in order to understand the entries of the obsessed. But, in general, one can always relate to them. It even goes farther than that- one can always read into a blog post and start thinking that the blogger is writing about them. It happens to me all the time. Someone will start talking about someone causing drama (unspecifically) at a party that I was at, and then I think it's me. Or, I can write a blog about postponing converstations and a fellow blogger can write a reply post, without seeking clarification that the post was relevant to our relationship. But, at the same time, sometimes you just know. You're just absolutely sure that it's about you, and then you can smile that you're worth being electronically documented, even if there are no names mentioned.
1.15.2004
Shit magnet
There's something about having the interest of guys that increases your chances with other guys. And so I am slightly overwhelmed. Sure, I'm a flirt and a half, but it's never been quite this successful before. Perhaps it's the cold weather? All the romantic comedies? The coiff?
Anyway, I find myself in an entertaining situation, that I worry will come crashing down around me (or maybe lead to true love?). I just hope for continued friendship. Wish me luck.
Anyway, I find myself in an entertaining situation, that I worry will come crashing down around me (or maybe lead to true love?). I just hope for continued friendship. Wish me luck.
1.14.2004
Random ramblings
I hate it when people come over and I'm sitting infront of the tv.
I love it when I go out and say hi to over 100 people. Or maybe it sometimes just seems that way.
I love how I can get four very very different presents for my birthday, from four very different people, who all got together and made me the best birthday ever. Cheers to my new bible, the bottle of rum, the blackeyed peas cd, and my new handcuffs, and hurray for decorations when I woke up in the morning, pancakes for breakfast, and a birthday cake.
Yay for telephone firsts, like when I got my first voice mail message, and my first call waiting.
Hallelujah for boys, and a couple more cheers for men, and some specific thanks to my fab fab roommates, and Jen who held my head.
I love how I don't have math tomorrow at 8am
Pilates is fun. We're going through a phase. Line up to see my developing abs.
And peace.
I love it when I go out and say hi to over 100 people. Or maybe it sometimes just seems that way.
I love how I can get four very very different presents for my birthday, from four very different people, who all got together and made me the best birthday ever. Cheers to my new bible, the bottle of rum, the blackeyed peas cd, and my new handcuffs, and hurray for decorations when I woke up in the morning, pancakes for breakfast, and a birthday cake.
Yay for telephone firsts, like when I got my first voice mail message, and my first call waiting.
Hallelujah for boys, and a couple more cheers for men, and some specific thanks to my fab fab roommates, and Jen who held my head.
I love how I don't have math tomorrow at 8am
Pilates is fun. We're going through a phase. Line up to see my developing abs.
And peace.
1.12.2004
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