A little critical thinking, but it works (out).

Choosing courses seemed to be one of the most stressful periods of my undergraduate experience. Since I am completing a course-based Master’s program, I had the opportunity to… choose… courses… again.

However, unlike undergrad, I wasn’t choosing between American or Canadian Literature Survey courses, but between poetry of a small, regional area, or an ecocritical and national, fiction course. Having no experience studying Canadian Literature, this presented a dilemma with the standard questions: “How do I know if I’m going to be interested in something that specific at this early point in time?” Cue: Flashbacks to Grade Ten when we had to choose a university path at the tender, young age of 15 years old.

Well, I am here to tell you that it works out. I think that’s my current mantra, and I’m sure I will change my mind and panic another day, but so far, it works out. I never thought that I had an interest in Canadian Literature, for the sole fact that mainstream Canadian literature just doesn’t seem to align with my literary interests. However, in my fourth year of undergrad, I studied Canadian poetry and fiction of the Great War for a seminar class and boy, did that change my mind!

I ended up writing my graduate school thesis proposal about Canadian and children’s literature, and although I am not pursuing the thesis project in favour of taking more courses before I focus my research on one area, I remain fascinated by the intersections of K-12 pedagogy and Canadian children’s literature. After the seminar course on literature of the Great War, I also became interested in the construction of a national Canadian identity and how immigrant perspectives play into this identity. What I did not realize about this proposal was how narrow and optimistic my ideas of the “national Canadian identity” really were.

In a way, the propaganda literature convinced me, despite retrospectively reading the works 100 years later.

And my ideas of constructing a wonderful national identity- well, they lacked the voice of someone who was not afraid to challenge the optimistic ideal. I am confident these issues would have arisen early enough in my project to correct and modify the thesis of course, but I am happy I was able to gain perspective on these ideas simply by taking a course on regional Canadian poetry.

The first couple of weeks of my new Canadian poetry course consisted of studying Al Purdy, who was a poet that, to this day, is consistently used as an anthologized example of the Canadian national voice. Our discussions in class, informed by Mark Silverberg’s “The Can(adi)onization of Al Purdy,” revealed the limitations of considering a work through the checklist definitions of “Canadian” literature. By reading Purdy’s poetry through the lens of a nationalist perspective, nuances and subtleties of his poetry become lost in the midst of the wilderness landscape, survival, and self-deprecating voice (to name a few of Silverberg’s examples). We were rejecting the singularly traditional readings of Purdy as a nationalist example. That is to say, we were not rejecting Purdy as a Canadian poet, but table-fipping the elements of “Canadian identity” and pressing them against the regional and other aspects of the poetry.

With this renewed perspective, I was able to question what is it about national identity that is so appealing to me when in fact, it might not truly exist in a country so varied and dynamic. Sorry, I don’t have the answer. But it’s an interesting direction that I cannot ignore, especially considering my would-be research interests are sitting on the floor, having just been flipped off of a table.

What in the world does this have to do with choosing courses? It works out. I was hesitant to take this course, but after this feeling of excitement and enlightenment (I’m on my way to being the next Dalai Lama), I know things work out. Had I not taken this course, I never would have gained perspective in the exact opposite way my argument would have gone. *dramatic pause* Thanks, life.

It works out.

The Food Thing.

A friend of mine recently moved into an apartment for the first time, and she asked me, “How do you do the food thing?” Of course I asked, “What food thing?”

“Like, groceries and cooking and all.”

Ok. Well THAT’S a loaded question. But it’s also a very fun question (for me).

While I explained my grocery/food prep-cooking methods via text, it occurred to me the other day that perhaps others might be in the same predicament.

So here is (what I hope to be the foolproof, overly detailed) run-down on the most important part (in my opinion, which might be redundant, since it’s my blog…) of “food prep”: freezing meat for food prep.

1. If you have or have access to someone’s Costco membership, Costco is a fantastic place to buy meat. You can get your chicken thighs, chicken breasts, ground pork, ground beef and lamb shoulder (now we’re getting a little fancy) all from Costco. They also seem to always have a great selection of salmon or another kind of fish as well. Loblaws (Loblaw Great Food?) is also a great place to get meat, but it’s usually sold in smaller quantities.
2. Don’t go cheap on meat. Buy decent quality meat when you can – it’s one thing to buy discounted bread or fruits when you know you’ll finish them within a day, and maybe it’s just me but with meat I wouldn’t cut corners.
3. Buy your meat when you have time to go home and split it up into smaller portions for freezing, ie. Pick a day or days that you know you’ll have an hour or two to debone, defat (is that a word?), and freeze your goods.

So now you have your meat, it’s time to start the labelling process. (Monica! Where’s your label-maker?) I like to use those small clear plastic bags like the kind you see at Bulk Barn for small quantities of herbs, or if you’re feeling the Ziplock, then Ziplock baggies work well too (they’re just more expensive). It is easiest to write before filling the bags, which may seem like an obvious direction, but hey, I know from experience that Sharpie on a cold bag of meat doesn’t work too well! Grab a permanent marker and write out the name of the meat (more on this in the individual sections), and date.

Chicken Thighs

1. Debone and defat (I’m quite sure this isn’t a word) the chicken thighs. Deboning helps the meat cook faster, and as a student, we all know time is a priceless thing we love to waste. I tend to take the skin off as well, but if you’re grilling the chicken in the oven then leave the skin on since it’ll help keep the chicken moist.
2. Wash your chicken and dry with a paper towel.
3. You may know that you like to cook and eat chicken in slices or chunks, so cutting up the chicken now will save you time later. Be sure to add a label such as, “cut up” or “chunks” since it’s a little harder to see when the chicken is frozen.
4. You’ll find a labelling system that works for you. For chicken thighs, I use “CH thigh” (Brilliant, I know).
5. Place chicken thighs in  Ziplock or small bags; I bag the thighs in groups of 2 or 4. Consider how many people you usually cook for and label the bag accordingly.
6. Double-bag that baby! Put all the labelled bags of chicken in a larger bag. I like using the meat bags or fruit and vegetable bags from the grocery store. Frozen knots are sometimes difficult to untie (I realize this sounds obvious or seems like it’s not a concern, but try tying a tight knot, freezing it, then untying it frozen, because you wouldn’t be defrosting the entire bag of chicken and come back and tell me how it goes), so if you’re tying a knot be sure you can untie it easily. Alternatively, you could twist the bag and grab it around a milk tab. (If that made no sense, and I’m sure it didn’t, scroll down and have a glance at the picture of ground beef).

Chicken Breasts 

1. Cut off the small, thin section that dangles off the breast and looks like an uncooked chicken finger/tender/cutlet. I cut all of these off then separate the cutlets into groups of about 8-10 and freeze them separate from the breasts. But your chicken, your choice, y’all!
2. Wash and dry the chicken.
3. If you want flat or thinner breasts for sandwiches or faster cooking, then cut the chicken breast into half lengthwise.
4. Cut int0 stir-fry chunks of strips if you want. I make about two bags of cut up chicken breasts.
5. Label. “CH breast” (Genius again.) Bag.
6. Double-bag. 

 

Ground Beef

1. (Pardon my assumptions about how it is packaged). Without removing the plastic wrapping, press the meat evenly into the styrofoam packaging, so that when you divide the meat into sections or portions, it’s more evenly distributed and easier to divide. Unless you want to play the guessing game, then that’s cool too.
2. Use a knife to cut through the plastic and divide the meat into portions. I tend to divide it into 6 or 8 sections. I was able to make 9 sections for some reason in the image below. Remove and discard the plastic (duh?).
3. Label. “Gr. Beef” (I bet you didn’t see that one coming).
4. Place portions in bags.
5. Double-bag a bunch of the smaller bags.

Ground Pork

1. Press meat evenly into styrofoam (just like the beef).
2. Cut through and divide portions. When I use ground pork, I tend to make things like meatballs and use more meat, so I divide pork into 6 portions. You do you.
3. Label. I’m not going to bother including my label example, because that’s just insulting.
4. Meat –> Bag. 
5. … Yes, you guessed it. Double-bag. 

 

P.S. 

• The same process works for freezing beef, steaks, etc.
• If you don’t dry off the meat after washing it, when heated, the extra water will make spark and crackle (not the right words at all, but it’s 1am people), when the meat is heated in the pan as it heats with the oil. Hot pan and oil does not mix with water. You have been warned.
• Double-bagging helps prevent freezer burn. I don’t know how so don’t ask me why. I’m in English, remember?
• Be a smart adult. I am not responsible for any food poisoning or illness or injury  or harm or whatever associated with the suggestions and instructions in this blog post. Wash your knives and sinks and cutting boards between meats. When in doubt, wash again. Raw meat ain’t funny folks.

 

So, now you can prep and freeze meat like a pro. A student pro. Live that student life efficiently! 

I’m falling out of love with English, and I don’t know what to do.

*inhale*

I’m falling out of love with English, and I don’t know what to do.

In class I sit there, wondering, “If I were interested enough to find something useful to contribute to the conversation, would I enjoy it more?” Something I once found intuitive, something that was a part of me whether or not I knew it until the end of first year university, is slowing shrinking into a pea-sized part of my undergraduate past, instead of looming like an omnipotent part of my soul. Dramatic, I know. But is that what graduate studies does? Potentially make you fall out of love with a subject for which you used to be head over heels? I mean, if so, wow, I’m not even pursuing a doctorate and I’m only one month into my program.

*exhale*

I’m worried.

*inhale*

Falling out of love with English has so many repercussions. I’m still an advocate for the importance of studying English, and yet studying it for one more year is making me question why I chose to do so. I asked the dreaded question I anticipate as a future teacher: “Why are we in heated debates over fictional characters? THEY DO NOT EXIST.” I cringed as soon as the thought entered my head and stayed there for the duration of my class this week. “What a traitor, I am,” I thought. How could I ask the question that every English teacher would answer: “it matters.” How could I do this to English? I typed out the words that almost broke my heart via Facebook message: “I do not love English anymore.” And as a friend of mine so eloquently (and jokingly) replied, “English loves you, even if you do not love it.”

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

Even though it was meant as a joke, the reply hit me hard. How does English still love me? How could English still love me? I committed almost every felony against my beloved subject. Albeit, I love English in a slightly different way than the stereotypical English student. I would rather go shopping for clothing than sit in a used bookstore and poetry. I would rather eat popcorn and watch “Pitch Perfect” than watch every film ever made of Jane Eyre. I don’t enjoy reading anymore, and I don’t enjoy writing anymore (I mean, it is a mentally strenuous task, so who really does enjoy essay writing in the moment, anyways?). So aside from all of that, I really did love English. I could still talk for hours on books I love, I think. But now that I try to in my head, I just cannot seem to conjure that passion I never knew I had until someone pointed it out to me.

What does it mean for English to love me? Does that mean I keep coming back to English because I know it will always be there for me? Is that what’s beautiful about books? You can revisit a story again and again, and it changes with you. All the knowledge and thoughts you have acquired between the last time you read the book, and your next time reading the book makes all of these strange connections you never knew existed when you revisit it. You develop inside jokes with the book. You love the characters a little more, or hate them a little more. Oh, there, I smiled. So I do love English still, at least a little bit. Maybe I love English like an old childhood friend. But childhood friends grow up and change too. But childhood friends don’t always stay friends. They grow apart. Is that what happened to English and I? Did we grow apart? English is supposed to be my thing. Who am I without it?

*exhale

*chest tightens*

*inhale*

Oh. There’s sadness. You know, like in “Inside Out.” Maybe we did grow apart. You know, it’s more than a childhood friend. It’s like a relationship you can feel slipping away. You thought you would grow old together. You thought you would always be in love with them. And then, all of a sudden, it stops, and makes you want to cry. And you want to stop it but you can’t and you don’t know how but you wish you could feel something, feel some kind of emotion that isn’t just nostalgia. But it’s not there.

Nothing’s there.

*exhale*

(Taking all suggestions for how to fall back in love with my English subject. Slightly urgent since I still have 10 months of the M.A. program to finish. Thanks.)

Finding your Big-Girl Pants: Part 1½

We’re now two weeks into classes and three weeks since Orientation started. Incase my online absence is suspiciously pointing towards two weeks of socializing and making new friends, need I remind the world of my social skills? Silly, world. Since my last post, my very optimistic sounding post, I have come face-to-face with more big-girl things. And since I like lists, here we go:

1. Leaky tap. Fill out a work order form for the apartment superintendent and hope that it gets fixed while panicking at the idea that you have just given someone permission to enter your apartment at some point, even when you are not home. *Hides laundry loonies*
2. Orange Juice. Since the local farmer’s market has been stocked with a wonderful surplus of choice in vegetables, fruit, and baked goods, I have somehow managed to avoid stepping foot in a grocery store for three weeks. The market does not, however, have orange juice. The one substance I require to function the way plants need carbon dioxide. Or humans and oxygen. You know. So I put on my big-girl pants and rode the bus to the shopping centre where I happily strolled through Loblaws, really buttoning up those big-girl pants when I had to ask for a rain check on the out-of-stock-on-sale-orange-juice. That’s what happens when you go to the grocery store after noon, people. Lesson: Wake up and get your groceries early. 
3. Laundry. I may have ironed my shirt in my last blog post, but I never actually did the whole washing machine/dryer routine. When you leave laundry for 3 weeks, and try to fit the whole dark load into one load, things do not get washed properly. I mean, of course I knew enough to separate darks and lights, and of course I did not leave a red sock in my white a-la-Rachel-Green, but I thought water in washing machines just penetrates all the clothing and soaks everything. Well, if you have three weeks of clothing, and a small washer in the laundry room of your apartment, it doesn’t. So do not try to stuff the washing machine. Also, invest in those Tide tablet things so that you don’t have to measure laundry detergent. Life gets better with those laundry tablet things.
4. Learn how to small-talk. Okay, so I’m expecting there will be another post on this at some point this year. This past week, I attended a faculty wine and cheese event, and had to endure the dreaded small talk with colleagues aka classmates, and professors aka those who assign you a grade that defines your academic progression. What did I expect? Painful, awkward, staring at the ceiling.
   What did I encounter? Slightly less painful, slightly less awkward, and I couldn’t tell you what the ceiling looked like. I received some great advice on what to wear for “business casual” before attending: “If you would TA in it, you can wear it.” Since it was a wine and cheese, and I enjoy wine but cannot tolerate alcohol well, I was that person who casually sipped and warmed my chilled white wine in my hands, which is a nice way of saying I pretended to drink it, subtly made half of my glass magically disappear, filled the half with water, and sipped my diluted now-warm chardonnay with effortless (what a lie) grace.
   What’s the point of diluting the wine? Why didn’t I just drink a non-alcoholic drink?
   There is no difference; I call it personal preference. There is absolutely no problem or judgment I expected for preferring a non-alcoholic drink. I honestly do enjoy wine, so I had no problem asking for white wine. I like the feel of wine glasses because in that superficial way, I feel more comfortable and classy with a wine glass. It all has to do with holding the wine glass itself, and just having a drink (be it alcoholic or non-alcoholic) in general so your hands have something to do, and nothing to do with what’s in the glass. If you feel confident you will be more confident. Fact. (Not proven, but you know.)
   Let’s put it this way. I once attended an alumni talk from a very successful graduate who talked about networking and socializing. Her #1 piece of advice for events? Get a drink (again, any drink, water, wine, etc.) and hold it. It makes you 90% (I made that number up) less awkward than you would be without a drink. It gives you an excuse to politely leave a conversation and “refill” or join another conversation along the way to maximize you networking. And it keeps you hydrated, since you know, socializing requires talking, which requires hydration. And I also made that last point up based on my recent experiences.

So, all that rambling basically meant: I had to take care of maintaining my apartment, I had to go to a real grocery store and do my own laundry, which takes a lot more time when you let it accumulate. I had to socialize in a professional setting and put to use the lesson I learned about professional socializing, that is, get a drink and (it doesn’t matter if it’s alcoholic or non-alcoholic), and mingle. All of which is a lot easier said than done. Which are things I am still working on. But I tried, and that’s why this post is a ½ step in the “Big-Girl Pants.” Like half a step when you’re walking. Like the running man. No, nevermind, not the running man. Just mid step.

Initiation of The Queenstown Chronicles

So, I tried to start this off with some kind of “Hello!” but it seemed awfully cheery and somewhat redundant. So, I’ll just jump right in.

I’m Felicia. If you read my extremely elusively-titled page, “Sorry, who’s blog is this?” you will find a 190 word description of me, a disclaimer of sorts, and why I decided to start this blog.

Now, I’m starting to feel the need to explain this “Sorry, who’s blog is this?” page, since I tried to avoid too many parenthetical asides also known as commentary to my own soliloquies. I mean, I’m not trying to sound like Hamlet or anything.

1. “bacon-loving” is more than me simply telling you I love bacon more than all other foods. Bacon is a God-sent gift – like manna in the Bible (no, I’m not kidding). Bacon is a great example of “good things in moderation” a principle by which I was raised to stand. You see, to love bacon does not mean one wants to eat bacon at every meal; that would mean to give yourself a heart attack. Don’t do that. Bacon-loving means you appreciate and savour the thing that you truly enjoy. Bacon cheers me up. Bacon is very pretty (like, aesthetically speaking the different shades of pink, red, and off-white don’t clash and also don’t give off a Valentine’s Day vibe. So props to you, bacon). Bacon tastes good. Bacon is also salty and fatty and unhealthy. But that is A-OK; there are positives and negatives to all things we love, because nothing and no one is perfect.
2. See that bacon metaphor? I think I just explained “chonic metaphor-user.”
3. “tell-it-like-it-is” is quite self-explanatory. I hope I don’t insult your intelligence with #4, but I’m direct and assertive about things (I mean, most of the time).
4. “perilous” Note: sarcasm… I hope.
5. “MA in English Language and Literature”: If you haven’t picked up on my word vomit, my over-analytic tendencies or my excessive explanation of a metaphor by now, then I’m not sure if you have been paying attention. Excuses: I make connections in everything I see, do, read and think. I also assume my word count should hit 2500-3500, you know, the standard undergraduate paper word count minimum. I think it’s an English student thing.
6. “new city” stands for a new location for my physical presence, as well as the terrifying thought of living alone for the first time in my life. I’m making the ignorant assumption that most people experience this (and by this, I mean doing their own laundry, obviously) somewhere around the age of 18, but I am reluctantly crawling to this milestone in my 20’s.
7. “mediocre and exaggerated”; “equal parts practical sarcasm and wishful thinking”: Okay, so these contradicting statements pretty much describe me (or so I think). I also assume that the statements are self-explanatory (plus, I have almost surpassed the word count of a standard proposal and clearly this blog post is too long for a “Hello, this is my first post” kind of post). Oh, well. I am nothing if not thorough (positive thinking).

QED.