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Bagpipes are Scottish!
Oct. 9th, 2008 11:47 amYou can always tell when it's convocation season around here, whether you're deaf, blind, or dumb (exclusive or, mind; combinations of deaf blind and dumb get interesting) - the number of gaudy and garish red and blue decorations skyrockets, and the bagpipes play all week long in stark daylight (they normally practice at night, you see).
It's kind of weird to realize that, barring any major fuckups on the part of the school or myself, I'll be doing that shortly enough myself. I get to wear silly robes and a hat! (A niiiiize hat!) Yay! But then I get to go away from SFU and... well, not be here any more. I've spent more time here than I have at any other school I've attended - holy fuck, that's kind of sad in itself to realize - and it's probably been the best experience out of any school I've attended - and then, I'll go away and have little reason to return.
Sigh.
(Also, when I watch the pipe band(they're kind of famous), I can't help but think that it would have been really neat to have joined it at some point. Isn't that a skill to whip out at parties? "I can play the bagpipes and march in a kilt! :D")
I've also been reading a surprisingly good book, for all that it's coursework-related - Why I Hate Canadians. (The author admits the title is rather like saying "Why I hate Bambi's mother".) It's pretty funny, and has a few good points about us and our history and incessant search for who we are, including anecdotes about the Cold War for Canadians (it was all about hockey, began and ended with hockey (we won)) and how we're really not so nice as we/other people claim - we're really more loudmouthed than just about everyone on the planet. It's just that, living next to the Americans, we look really meek and quiet and polite and nice; no one out-louds the Americans.
(Also, apparently, during the American Revolution, the residents of St Stephen, NB and Calais, Maine - they're literally twenty metres away from each other, seperated by the St Croix river - decided by mutual pleasant agreement to just not fight each other. The British commanders nervously sent a stash of gunpowder to St Stephen just in case, and the good people promptly sent it over the border so their revolutionary friends could properly celebrate July the 4th with fireworks. I have relatives over there, incidentally. The Ganong chocolate factory is also located in the town - they were the inventors of the first chocolate bar.)
Yay history!
It's kind of weird to realize that, barring any major fuckups on the part of the school or myself, I'll be doing that shortly enough myself. I get to wear silly robes and a hat! (A niiiiize hat!) Yay! But then I get to go away from SFU and... well, not be here any more. I've spent more time here than I have at any other school I've attended - holy fuck, that's kind of sad in itself to realize - and it's probably been the best experience out of any school I've attended - and then, I'll go away and have little reason to return.
Sigh.
(Also, when I watch the pipe band(they're kind of famous), I can't help but think that it would have been really neat to have joined it at some point. Isn't that a skill to whip out at parties? "I can play the bagpipes and march in a kilt! :D")
I've also been reading a surprisingly good book, for all that it's coursework-related - Why I Hate Canadians. (The author admits the title is rather like saying "Why I hate Bambi's mother".) It's pretty funny, and has a few good points about us and our history and incessant search for who we are, including anecdotes about the Cold War for Canadians (it was all about hockey, began and ended with hockey (we won)) and how we're really not so nice as we/other people claim - we're really more loudmouthed than just about everyone on the planet. It's just that, living next to the Americans, we look really meek and quiet and polite and nice; no one out-louds the Americans.
(Also, apparently, during the American Revolution, the residents of St Stephen, NB and Calais, Maine - they're literally twenty metres away from each other, seperated by the St Croix river - decided by mutual pleasant agreement to just not fight each other. The British commanders nervously sent a stash of gunpowder to St Stephen just in case, and the good people promptly sent it over the border so their revolutionary friends could properly celebrate July the 4th with fireworks. I have relatives over there, incidentally. The Ganong chocolate factory is also located in the town - they were the inventors of the first chocolate bar.)
Yay history!
