Tag Archives: University

Bloody hell, I just miss home.

I’ve been in Ireland for a month for university.

It’s been grand. It’s been so grand.

There have been great ups and downs, but for the love of god, it’s thanksgiving at home and I’m fecking sick of explaining to Americans that yes, we have ours in October.

Join me while I wallow in self-pity and wade through corny Canadiana while I further ignore my uni work.


The original Wayne’s World:


And the voices that were a constant in my childhood home many winter evenings:

I just want some goddamn poutine and no one in this country knows what cheese curds are.

Trials of Pub Crawl

I never really had a real “crazy first year college experience” because…well..let’s not get into that.

Or we can. We totally can. I previously went to a place for school that was like Community but without the laughter, friends, events, sports teams, and will to live.


So now, at the tender age of almost-21 (oh dear god, really?), I’m trying to do just that. Have a normal university experience.

My awesome school now puts on a bunch of awesome events. This past Thursday was pubcrawl.

I went out, drank on the subway with my friend like two classy 20 year olds, almost got picked up by an accountant, and most likely danced worse than Elaine Benes.


He bought me one of these, because I am a classy but slightly outdated lady.

Things are getting better.

Yeah, no one likes “hey my life is fucking awesome now, cool” posts. I’ll get back to some depressing ones later, don’t you worry.

I’m the wittiest when my life is shitty.

A Lucky Break: University Admissions Edition

As some of you may know, I am a transfer student. I do not recommend this to anyone, because transferring universities in Ontario sucks. Everything is geared towards high school students, including scholarships, time lines, acceptance averages, etc. Luckily, I was accepted by the school I set my hopes on, which was a life saver because I really did not want to have to go and spend a few thousand dollars to re-take and upgrade my university marks.

My problem was that I did one year in a university nursing program. Didn’t like it, wasn’t for me. I wish I did, considering the starting salaries of RNs in this province, but what can you do? I took a year off to figure out what to do and to stop wasting money at the rate of 7 grand a year.

I knew that I was going to have to sacrifice a fair chunk of cash to change schools and programs, since I figured my specific nursing courses wouldn’t transfer. Why would they? Does learning how to give someone a bed bath with a soapy wash cloth translate into skills I’d need in political science? (Insert joke here.)

Today I logged into the little “applicants file” thing my new university has set up, where we can monitor our applications and make advising appointments and all those helpful things. Underneath the word “admitted” (which I had originally bawled over upon finding. Go me.) there was a new “transfer credit” link. I clicked it. This is what I found:

Oh mon dieu (this is a bilingual university I will be attending, after all), is that 39 credits? 39? That’s more than a year (I think)! Granted, in nursing we took 7 classes per semester instead of the standard 5, so I see how this is possible. Either way, this is beautiful! My first year has not completely gone to waste! Take that, other university liaisons who said I’d have to start from scratch! My parents will not behead me after all! Exclamation points everywhere!

I have no idea what this will mean in regards to the amount of freedom I will have in choosing my classes, but we’ll deal with that later.

Sometimes this is all it takes to make my day.

[Note of weirdness: Last year a different university offered me a full year transfer and a $4000 bursary. I applied this year again to the same program, with the same marks, and only received an offer of half a year transfer and no bursary! What in the world?]


A Weekend in Quebec

This gallery contains 8 photos.

This past weekend, my parents and I went on a mini-road trip to visit a university in Quebec, 8 hours away. We stopped over and spent Saturday in Montreal before continuing onto Sherbrooke, 2 hours east, for Sunday. Although there … Continue reading

Boring Journal-Like Post. Move Along Now.

I don’t think I will ever be able to write interesting posts that simply summarize my days. But, hey, I have absolutely nothing going on at the moment, so leaving the house is an event. And you shall hear about this event!

It has been 9 days since I’ve worked last. A horrible dream the other night chased away all leftover nostalgia for my previous job. There were line-ups, the labels weren’t scanning, the computer crashed, the discounts weren’t coming up, and there was no other cashier to help me out. This wasn’t even a hyperbole, this stuff happened every day. Au revoir, any fleeting good-feelings I have thinking about my job.

It’s been rough, having nothing to do. Dragging myself out of bed before noon today to go sign up for yoga was hard enough. Hopefully I shall fall back into super-fit Michelle mode, circa 9th grade when I was kickboxing, yoga-ing, playing soccer, and eating like Jenny Craig. (Maybe I shall change that horrible simile later. She’s not even a real person, is she?) At the very least, it will have me leave the house weekly. Go yoga!

In a few days, I’ll be heading up to Quebec to visit a certain university that I’ve been accepted to. It’s an 8 hour drive, but only 2 hours from Montreal so my mom can re-live her Expo ’67 days and tour the city.
I can practice my French, (although I’ll most likely freak out and mumble in English instead), since the city the school is in is 98% French-ONLY. Terrified? Yes. Excited? Double yes.

One of my top-choices is reminding me a lot of my previous university. Everyone is telling me different things, their administration is a mess and unreasonably slow, and I’m left waiting until April for a response (apparently?). I hope it works itself out.

Well, if you have suffered through this useless post, I thank you. Good day.

I’m Really Not Superstitious, Most of the Time…

Usually reserved for your crazy grandmas or the families of your Chinese* friends, superstitions are just something that not many people admit to nowadays.

*I’m not stereotyping, read more about Chinese culture. And get off my case!

I don’t partake in any of the classic ones about not opening umbrellas indoors, breaking mirrors, or avoiding passing under ladders. Plus, those black cats are usually friendly.

No, my superstitions lie in “jynxing” things.

Pokemon has permanently damaged my brain.

Ahem…”jinxing” things. It seems that every time I got excited about something as a kid, it wouldn’t happen. That summer we were finally going back to Vancouver to visit for the first time in years? Fell through after I told all the kids at school. That time I started picking out what I would buy with my employee discount at The Shoe Company after my awesome interview? I didn’t get the job.

It kind of falls into the “don’t count your chickens before they hatch” saying, but it’s different. I feel as though I must worry appropriately about it before something good will happen.

All I want to do is post about how awesome my first-choice school is. I want to tell everyone that I’m going to apply and I really want to go, but I shouldn’t. I have been letting some things slip, which I hope haven’t ruined it.
It’s kind of about saving face, so that if I don’t get in I won’t have to tell everyone when they ask, but it’s more about the superstition behind it.

I have to sit here and worry about it, no matter how reassured I am that I will make it in. I have to.

It’s better to be safe than sorry, right? Right, guys?!