academia, schmacademia!

damn, sometimes i just get so into this university crap, it scares the hell out of me.

in the past 3 days, i have:

– had a thrilling conversation with the cartographer of this city’s green map

– cold-emailed two professional geographers to ask them for guidance on a directed studies project

– shrieked with joy over potential employment preparing demographic data for a developer

– joined the canadian association of geographers

and it’s 5:30 pm, I’ve been on campus since 6:50 am, i still need to get a bunch of articles from the reserve room… and i’m happy about it.

in other news, my sixteen-year-old sister has gone off to be a leader-in-training at her summer camp for the next month. usually i’m the boring/serious one in the family who insists on sending her books for her birthday, in an attempt to counteract the rampant consumerism that otherwise fills her upper-middle-class days….

but i can’t help it sometimes: when she’s at camp, i go into big-sister-mode, and make her a care package filled with silly crap. today i got her earrings and some smelly soap, and kleenex with a sassy woman on them with the caption “she liked imaginary men best of all” (which she’ll think is hilarious, what with me being the queer sister and all). i rounded it out with a pen and a book of sudoku puzzles, and tonight i’m gonna see if i can knit her a quick pair of slippers or something.

the cool thing about camp cooch? it’s the same camp that not only *i* attended (albeit briefly, before my folks decided to send me to a hard-core baptist christian camp instead… what the fuck were they thinking?! instead of just being picked on for being fat, i was also bullied for not being religious!), but my mom attended it as well.
yep, 1947: the photo is on my mom’s wall, her and her best friend ann sitting on suitcases outside of toronto’s union station, waiting to get on the train heading north. (incidentally, my mom is not my little sister’s mom, in case you’re fiddling with the math and getting confused)

now. let’s do a spatial analysis of the vectors of class and race in this historiography, shall we?

ps. the photo above is of that beautiful younger sister of mine. crazy, hey? same nose..


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