Minutes

Whenever I feel like I miss my pet cat Oreo (who's probably napping on my parents' bed right now), I watch this video. It's an old one but it always produces the same response - a good cry, followed by a lot of guilt*, followed by a relentless search for Fry to give him a very long hug.

I sometimes think that creatives cheap out by invoking pet-focused feelings in their audience, but in cases like this I think it's okay. That's mostly because it's so well-produced. Besides that, it's fine to feel something sometimes, isn't it?

Last Minutes with ODEN from Eliot Rausch on Vimeo.

*We used to have two cats: Oreo and Tiger. One night in the summer after first year, I came home at around 11 pm. Tiger was sitting in front of the screen door leading to our backyard. I still don't know why I did this, but I slid open that screen door and she ran out. We couldn't find her, partially because it was dark and partially because, like most cats, she's a fast runner. It was two days later that we found out that the Humane Society took her in. A neighbour accidentally moved their car with her beneath it. She had a broken hip and, after speaking to my family, she was put down. It's weird when I think that I was the last person in my family to stand beside her. 

In Anticipation

Photo by Tiffany Lam (The Queen's Journal)

This is late, but here's my article about Robert J. Reid & Sons funeral home in Kingston, Ontario. 

This was one of those stories where, after spending two hours in an interview, I faced a lot of difficulty picking the best anecdotes to put in the article. Funeral directors really are some of the most interesting people.

There are so many stories that I could tell from this small encounter. I could tell you about the ways they mold the decedents before the wake, or how there's an unsaid bond between funeral directors when it comes to burying family or close friends. 

It's not about the stories I know, though. It's about the ones that I didn't hear. There's still so much to learn about people, even after I end an interview.

Chicken Jerk

I've been alternating between speeding between buildings in the -23 degree weather and writing words I don't understand on a page I can barely see with my failing vision. Had two weird freakouts this week: 1. From not having an agenda to properly write my daily to-do list in, and 2. From forgetting to eat things yesterday, due to being busy and generally being a failure at taking care of myself.

It's okay though. I had bacon pasta today and I'm rather excited about my article about the funeral home business. Check it out on Friday.

Also, follow the AMS elections here. You'd be silly not to pay attention.

Here's the result of Dan's attempts to make (incredibly delicious!) jerk chicken, as frantically directed by me via email (although you can find the recipe pretty much anywhere on the Internet). 

Pretty much, this was just me taking advantage of his post-Disney World and post-Florida cravings. I'm a terrible person who just eats everyone's food.

Also, here's a video of Eddie Redmayne. I, too, agree with what he says about Glengarry Glen Ross. Seriously. What a great play/movie/script.

The Triumph of the Dinosaurs

This book has been sitting on the family bookshelf for the past twelve years or so. I say this because all important things in my childhood happened when I was nine, because I can't remember the other years or because the number nine is just a really convenient number to remember.

I wasn't one of those fiendish children who became fascinated with dinosaurs because they were large, roaring creatures with scaly hides and a propensity to be ferocious. I didn't marvel at what they were because they had been "terrifying lizards." 

I was attracted to their mystery. There was the allure. They roamed the land, occupying it with such dominance not unlike today's human beings, and suddenly, with an asteroid collision or whatever, they were gone. Nothing left but fossilized skeletons to leave us questioning what colours they were, what they sounded like, how they simply behaved. 

It's scary, isn't it. How vulnerable anything can be to fall, particularly after such a meteoric rise. I wonder, sometimes, if there were entire populations and civilizations that rose and fell, now without a trace.

I think that's why I still love to roam museums and why I am comfortable with the idea of taxidermy. I like the idea of being able to observe the static remnants of something that was once so dynamic and full of life. That's why I love period pieces and why I'm excited to bring this book back to Kingston with me tomorrow.