There's Hope

To (very loosely) sum up these past few months in terms of school, I'd have to say that I've been somewhat disappointed.

I've always identified myself as a school-lover - I was never really a full-out studier, or one who did nothing but school work, but I LOVED LEARNING. Or thought I did...

This past semester has made me re-evaluate that self-description a lot, because, to be perfectly honest, I haven't felt nearly as inspired by my courses in this institute of higher learning as I had hoped I would.

I'm pretty sure that this is largely due to the facts that university is much harder than I had thought it would be (duh, right?), and that there is no one affirming your "brilliance" every step of the way in these classes filled with hundreds of intelligent students.

This isn't to say that I've had no moments of academic enlightenment, wherein I felt supreme inspiration and excitement for a particular subject, no, it's just that these feelings haven't been quite as frequent as I had rather naïvely assumed they would be. At times, I've felt like quitting; I've been wondering what the point is of my being here at all. Yes, McGill is lovely, Montréal is beautiful, I'm surrounded by amazing friends and am having fantastic experiences, but... I'm here not just for all these wonderful things, but also, and primarily I suppose, to gain an education of some sort. And I just haven't been feeling it.

(Though, I am still in my first semester, so no worries, I know that this meagre amount of experience doesn't exactly provide enough evidence to cause me to jump ship!)

Nonetheless, it's been discouraging.

But here's where the renewal of hope comes in; there's two parts.

Part 1

After talking with my uncle, who's a professor in educational psychology, I've become more and more interested in the fields of educational and social psychology. So today, on the advice of one of my residence dons, I visited a social psych prof because I thought his work sounded interesting, and wanted to speak with him in person. Unfortunately, he had had to end his office hours early for the day, as he was heading to teach a class, so I intercepted him just as he was leaving. Fortunately, on the other hand, this gave me the chance to simply chat with him as he walked down the hill.

He wore a long, rough brown leather overcoat, a hat that looked like it belonged to a lone ranger, and puffed up a storm on his cigarette as we moseyed down the street. He spoke like a lone ranger too - a cross between that and a private detective. There was quite the air of old-school tenacity and intelligence about him; "Come see me next week", he said, and so indeed I shall. I hope he becomes even more interesting the longer we talk...

Part 2

After that delightful encounter, I decided to finally check out the Islamic Studies Library, and is it ever a GEM! Pure intellectual beauty, a marvel! all right here in one innocent-looking building. I'm sitting here right now in fact, albeit in a study carrel reserved for an unknown graduate student.

"We ask that you please be ready to move elsewhere should the student to whom [this study carrel] is assigned need to use it."

I hope the graduate student doesn't show up anytime soon, because this study carrel is an academic inspiration.

Though thank goodness, there are other tables at which to work which are not graduate-student-assigned. So, I will definitely be back.

The woodwork, the tiling, the shelves and shelves of books in languages I don't understand.... Ah. This library is so silent too. One of those places with the perfect mixture of inspiring and thought-provoking gorgeousness and silence that makes one feel they simply must take part in intellectual pursuits. It makes me feel that I should do something important and innovative just because I'm here. Sitting in a graduate student carrel also inspires me to work, because if I were just on Facebook or browsing the internet, then surely someone would walk by, see, point, and cry out, "SHE can't possibly be the graduate student to whom this study carrel is assigned! She's wasting her time on a non-academic pursuits such as Facebook and looking up Harry Potter memes!" (Which is, of course, something a student in grad school would never dream of doing. ...)

Although I suppose all of this is somewhat ironic, considering the fact that I'm currently blogging... But hey, it could be worse. And you should've seen how productive I was JUST being!

Anyhow, these past two experiences, particularly the time spent in this library, have given me a little injection of hope - perhaps learning could be riveting and wonderful once more.

Let's just hope that this renewal of inspiration is enough to get me through final exams.

The Good

Time for a list of positivity:

• The leaves here are turning very beautiful colours.

• I realized Korean food can be verrry tasty. Thank you Sunny and Sivakami :)

• Friends friends friends friends... they are what make everything bearable. I love you all so very much. As A1 has said, Dsquared is the best medicine! Little does she know that she is pretty darn good medicine herself. ... Actually, I think she does know. I told her.

• Speaking of friends, a couple of mine discovered a most excellent study nook, which I now like to frequent. Here's a photo of the space in the library bookshelves, and a view from the window beside it:

• Physics - discussing black holes. And anti-matter. YES. I also am thoroughly enjoying the playing out of Big Bang Theory-esque physics nerd stereotypes... My TAs for the course are the bomb, as some might say... So incredibly adorable! The theoretical physics department is seriously awesome. Here's a picture of Erwin Schrödinger that hangs just outside the washroom:

• One good mark. Yay for logic. But that was before I took eight hours to complete a 1-2 hour take-home midterm... Oh right! Back to positivity. Looks fun, n'est-ce pas?

• Fantaisiste - it's a good word! Ça veut dire: odd. eccentric. far-fetched.

• MUSIC. J'adore Félix Leclerc. Il me fait sourire peu importe ce qui s'est passé pendant la journée ! - Voici "Moi, mes souliers":

Now tell me that didn't at least make you smile.

• Church. I feel so blessed to have found RBC. I don't think I've ever liked church this much. Which is probably because it becomes something a lot more meaningful when you're not in a Christian school with only Christian friends and chapel and youth every week. Plus there are so many amazing people there - truly welcoming.

• Maman et Papan m'ont visitée !

• Speaking French and noticing serious improvement - it really boosts my confidence whenever my Francophone friends tell me I'm actually pretty good... Just saying ;)

• Piano... I get to teach piano to the most adorable two younger girls. In French. Does it get much better?

Solidarité

"Sol Sol Sol, Solidarité! Sol Sol Sol, Solidarité!" Maybe I should write this in CAPS to get the point across: "SOL SOL SOL, SOLIDARITÉ!!!!!" This chant is ringing in my ears at the moment.

Watch a quick video of it here (and this was only the beginning... a weak cry compared to what followed!):

The MUNACA strike here at McGill has now been going on for three official weeks. If you want to read an article about it in the McGill Daily (student-run newspaper), you can here: http://issuu.com/mcgilldaily/docs/vol101issu2/1. But I'm not going to detail the strike issues at this point, because I don't want to relay any incorrect information, and I don't want to bore you if you don't want to stay up-to-date on current events here in Montréal...

Anyhow, at this very moment, I am sitting in the giant lecture hall in one of McGill's less beautiful buildings, Leacock, beside one of McGill's more beautiful students, my lovely friend Schmall. And ABOVE US, McGill students who have decided to take their support of the strikers to the next level are chanting "SOLIDARITÉ!" (In case you didn't make the connection, yes, "solidarité" does mean "solidarity"!) Even in terms of picket lines, I noticed today that strikers had moved from just marching at campus entrances to walking up and down the street, blowing whistles, banging drums, and chanting all the while. And now the ever so supportive students have deemed it suitable to bring the noise ON campus, into the buildings. I'm trying to focus on my Psychology class (and yes, this blog posting :P), but it's almost impossible. The sound comes in waves (haha, pun! and we're talking about sensory perception in class today) as the group picks up energy and yells more and more loudly. They have drums too! I'm kind of surprised that they're allowed to be here, right by all of the lecture halls and classrooms... And drums, really?

Ah well, I understand the point of annoying us: so we'll DO something.

Oh gosh, they're cheering (loudly) for themselves now! This is an energy-pick-up moment to be certain. Huzzah, more yelling. Maybe I will send an email to our allegedly over-paid and over-benefitted principal...

Read about that here: http://www.mcgilldaily.com/2011/09/principal’s-salary-contract-reveals-details-of-perks-2/.

Oh no! Would you look at this: Psych class is ending early because our professor (who happens to be one of the nicest profs/people I've yet met - he walked through the aisles and said hi to everyone today!) said that "the demonstration got to [him]". So... time to pack up I suppose - twenty minutes before the lecture officially ends. I guess the strikers are making themselves heard.

One of the stranger things that happened today.

Don't get your hopes up though - it's not crazy exciting or anything!

Somebody posted a link on Facebook, and it was for a product at Urban Outfitters. So I clicked the link. Here, you try it: http://www.urbanoutfitters.com/. Did it work? Because GUESS WHAT. Apparently, due to the Charter of the French Language (aka Bill 101), we folks stationed out here in La Belle Province aren't allowed to visit the site, because it's not yet offered in French. Intéressant. So what's an Anglophone girl to do? This is actually funny. It's not as if I were a hardcore online shopper or any such thing, but what if I was? And what if I fancied shopping online at urbanoutfitters.com? Well I wouldn't be able to! I thought that the internet was a place of freedom, at least in Canada. But I'm not allowed to enter the website simply because of my geographical situation while using the internet. I suppose Québec is an exception in this as in so many other things.

Obviously this isn't that big of a deal in how it affects my Urban Outfitters website visiting, but it came as a bit of a surprise to me. It makes me wonder what other sites are off-limits because they're not offered in French...

Classes

I heart physics. And deductive logic, because it's like math. Why am I in arts? Bonne question.

The first couple weeks of classes have been overwhelming, to say the least. I love my mash-up of courses:

French - Français fonctionnel avancé

Psychology - Intro to Psych

Poli Sci - The Government of Canada

Philosophy - Intro to Deductive Logic

Physics - Space, Time, and Matter

(I should probably start spelling French with "ph" - Phrench, so that it can fit in with the "P" theme!)

But, this mash-up means that there is next to no overlap in my courses' subject matter, and so my mind is constantly being yanked all over the place! It can be fun though.

My Poli Sci course may sound dry, but the professor is a gem - he brings in all kinds of current issues, and is passionate about the subject matter.

In Psych, our prof wants so desperately to find some way of connecting with his 650 students that he read through the entire class list, every single name! Something about how priming the brain like this will make him more likely to remember our names if any of us go to talk to him in person. He also looked at each of our pictures from the university database to get a better idea of who we are - you might think that that sounds creepy, but really, it's endearing.

And my physics professor is so friendly! He keeps telling us about his work with lasers, which sounds so cool, and is very open to questions. Plus, come on, it's theoretical physics for non-physics majors! How much better can it get?! Special and general relativity, time, light cones, quantum theory, time travel, matter and anti-matter, cosmology... :) :) :)

For Philosophy, I really have to read the textbook to make sense of anything, but I am always able to pay attention in class - the professor makes me laugh with how he mutters that certain propositions (or is the correct term "premises"?) would be "utter nonsense", and how "we certainly can't allow for that". And he says things in a such a dead-pan way, with a dry British accent. Win. Plus I get to learn a new language for the class: FOL! Points for philosophy.

And well French, need I say more? It's French, and I can tell that this year-long course will help me improve by leaps and bounds ... At least I hope! Plus the professor is completely comprehensible, with no difficult accent, and is so clear and organized.

Wow. Haha, I'm assuming that that would be a tad boring to the outside reader, but I do believe this has been a therapeutic exercise - I now feel quite fortunate to have all of the professors that I do, they're really quite a good lot :) Though I'll let you know how I feel once mid-terms roll around...

La grève

You know what's funny? When the day of your first classes is also the day when the university support staff decide to go on strike.

In front of the Roddick Gates.

Bienvenue à Montréal

So, here I am. In Montréal. It is past midnight here, and while most often that is a perfectly reasonable time to be up for every growing young adult, tonight I need sleep, for tomorrow I am going to begin the crazy process that is moving in, becoming an official McGill student (aka, one with an ID), and performing countless little tasks that are hard to list off but will easily fill a day. And I'm waking up early to begin it all.

Montréal is overwhelming. Beautiful, but more overwhelming than I remember it being, probably because I keep imagining myself having to navigate the streets alone, when simply being around all of the ridiculously tall buildings confuses me. I feel like a small town girl, even though my hometown is one of the largest cities in my province! I felt disoriented this evening, but I'm hoping that that changes for the better tomorrow. There are just so many streets! And I realized that I'm not going to be able to see the stars for quite some time; this fills me with a pretty deep sadness, and if that is cause for grief, I'd better not even think about how hard it was to say good-bye to my friends and family, especially T, since I don't know when I'll get to see her again....

But I won't let this drag on into a pity session, because it really IS exciting to be here, surrounded by French and gorgeous historic architecture and thousands of adventures to be had! Though at the moment, it is time for sleep, so that those adventures don't involve me collapsing in front of a gorgeous historic building trying to mutter in French that I've fallen and I can't get up.

Thunderbox!

Back-packing was a success. I am now a tough, rugged individual who is somehow able to carry a 30-40 lb. pack every day for a week without breaking down... That fact is likely due to the awesome, all-around supportiveness of my team: Thunderbox!

We named ourselves after the large, port-a-potty-like wooden boxes that are placed near each campsite in Algonquin Park in lieu of outhouses. This name became particularly amusing after we lost our toilet kit following our first day in the wild... Oops. Leaves began to serve a new, very practical use.

Every day, we packed up camp and hiked several kilometres to a new location. By the end of the trip, our group of ten scholars and two guides had become very close - I suppose this is inevitable after a week of no showers, copious sweating, and nothing to do on the trails but talk. But inevitable or not, I am so very thankful to have gotten to know all of the incredible people on my team. On the last night, we shared "warm fuzzies", where each person writes something encouraging to every person on the team, and then all of the pieces of paper go in a hat, and are read aloud around the campfire. I already miss these inspiring, hilarious people! Hahaha, I honestly can't remember if I've ever spent so much time laughing with a group before.

(This isn't our full group; D, another scholar going to McGill, is taking the picture.)

Then came the retreat. We joined up with the other two groups of ten scholars and took a looooong bus ride to the retreat centre where the upper year scholars and CMSF (Canadian Merit Scholarship Foundation) staff greeted us, repulsively smelly and unwashed though we were. (As a side note, we weren't allowed to shower until AFTER dinner... It felt like a bizarre initiation process, eating with all of these clean, older, impressive scholars.) The following three days were filled with workshops, conferences, and time to become acquainted with our fellow Loranians. The workshops resulted in me breathing a huge sigh of relief, because CMSF staff constantly reminded us that this award is an investment in who they believe us to be as people; they want us to call them and talk when we struggle, be it with our school and community involvements, or academics. We don't have to put on an impressive façade 24/7. Or ever, really.

As for the other scholars, well, a good many of them cause me to marvel, and though their accomplishments sometimes leave me feeling lacking, I feel truly honoured to be included in the Loran family with them. I've come home more motivated and inspired than ever. And now it's time to take this motivation with me to Montréal!

Who'd like to hike?

So, tomorrow. ... 5:55 am. Off to Toronto, then on to Algonquin Park!

One night exploring downtown Toronto, then six nights of back-packing in the wilderness, followed by three days of what I presume will be relaxation, at, "The Scholars' Retreat".

But this means that today I have to say goodbye to my most beautifulest sister A... Actually, that farewelling will take place in tomorrow morning's wee hours, but you get the idea.

Suddenly, I'm thinking of a bazillion things I'd like to do with her before I go, but they will all have to wait until Christmas break, or some such time! There's so much I still want to do before shipping out east. Time flies much too fast.

But expeditioning is on the horizon! I'll be sure to tell you how that goes :)

Riding the Bus with My Sister ... and brother too, I suppose :)

My mom is the best. There are a scant 22 days until I leave, but scarier than that figure are the mere two days left with my brother J before we're separated until Christmas, and the seven days left with my sister, A. My leaving for the Loran expedition on August 11th combined with their camp-going is what's causing this, and I'm very excited (for them and me)! But the realization that there's so little time left is awfully strange. That's where Maman comes in. After spending a marvelous three days with E (one of my good friends from Québec last summer) and her/my new friend Z, my mom decided to initiate the setting aside of some time for my siblings and I. In the form of bus riding. Interesting, n'est-ce pas? Well, I suppose there's no harm in learning life skills while bonding! (The three of us aren't exactly adept at bus-riding in our lovely city, so this was to be practice.) It seemed a little silly at first - ride bus to mall, then downtown, then back home - but I think that a lot of the seemingly sillier things in life can make for some of the best experiences.

So, the bus we did ride. (Big adventure, right?!) Well, as it turns out, it was quite fun :) The best part was follows:

While riding from the mall to downtown, we sat somewhat silently. I was people-watching, and a rather charming interaction caught my eye. There was a young(ish) man, maybe late 20's or early 30's who sat across the aisle from a woman of about the same age. Now, I can only relate to you events from my perspective, but it seemed to me that they didn't really know each other, and the man had just struck up a conversation. He had an open, honest, and smiling face with an expression that seemed to reveal he had just broken through a shy reservation to speak with her. Now that he'd succeeded, he looked quite pleased, for she certainly appeared to enjoy speaking with him. She laughed at all the right moments, which only served to further widen the man's smile. They were certainly hitting it off! I wish I'd known what they were saying, but they were speaking in Spanish, for at least a while.

Then the bus stopped, and an elderly lady came onboard. She sat right next to the young man, asking him to scoot over to a window, and effectively stopped the flow of conversation. The man gave the young woman an apologetic, regretful look, then chatted a short while with the newcomer, before their conversation dissipated into nothingness.

I turned to J and A to see if they had noticed, and the greatest thing was that they too had been watching all the while! The whole exchange. We were all sad to see this developing friendship be brought to a halt. But as it turned out, the older woman left just a few stops later, and with an eager smile, friendly conversation returned between the younger pair. It was a delight to observe.

Call me a silly romantic if you will, but truly! Even my tough brother noticed those two. It was all in the man's eyes - J himself said that he looked "so sweet". And as we got off the bus downtown, I heard the young man tell the young woman, in English, that he was pleased to meet her, as he gave her a warm grin. ¡Mágico!

Then we were all business again, and got ourselves delicious fries (with malt vinegar!) and sorbet. A pleasure of a day... Merci Maman.

"You're braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."

Maybe this seems childish, but I've been feeling rather sentimental lately - about all of these good-byes, these endings and new beginnings. I thought this post might be better if saved for when I actually leave, but by then, who knows how I'll feel? I'll probably view differently this whole growing-up process within even a few days, but for now, this video quite fully encapsulates what I've been thinking and feeling.


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED TO DISNEY.

The Closing of a Chapter, Part 2

The hallway is empty. Boxes are piled on the benches, filled garbage bags are slumped beside bins, and the lockers stand as sentinels, rid of their locks and all the important content from this year's learning.

I'm looking down the hall, and through a partially open door can see into the counselling centre, where teachers are walking around, sitting at their desks, putting last minute touches on this year's marks and report cards. I just finished my last exam, French, and it's all over now.

I feel so lonesome, and more bereft than I was expecting. I don't want this to end yet. I don't want to not be a student here... But then again, I do.

My locker is the only one still filled, with a flag of Québec, pictures from camp, and a little paper marked "nucleic acids" from a biology game first semester. There's piles of documents from organizing the Famine, an unused calculus textbook from last year's course, and my name tag from the Gospel Mission. A blue ball of sticky tack is still stuck in the locker... It was horrible quality.

There's a sinking, sick feeling in my stomach, and I can feel it creating a knot in my throat, but I don't want to cry yet - right now would be awfully inconvenient. I'm going to meet someone from McGill, who'll tell me all about the lovely things I can look forward to next year... I shouldn't be crying over the end of high school for that.

Well, my locker needs to be cleaned, and textbooks returned, in the next seven minutes. So... Goodbye.

The Closing of a Chapter, Part 1

So, tomorrow it begins. Some people don't care for or think much of their grad, but when you belong to a school that has a grad class of about 73, it's kind of a big deal. It's an even bigger deal when you're class valedictorian. It's also important when you happen to have quite a few close friends in your grad class, and this whole graduation business signifies the end of an amazing past four years. Not that the good times have to end, but they'll certainly be different. Especially when you're across the country from your best friends.

Tonight, we had our last caregroup. I've been a leader with one of my closest friends, H, for the past two years, and tonight brought me to tears. I just love our girls so much. When they were hugging me and crying that I shouldn't go to Montréal, I wanted so badly to say that I'd change my plans for them, that I'd stick around here so that I could keep leading them. Why do we have to grow up? I almost feel that there could be no "better", or "bigger" purpose for me than to positively impact the lives of younger girls, to pray with them, hang with them, care for them, love them, and encourage them. Maybe there isn't anything "better" or "bigger", just something different that I'm supposed to be doing. Our girls are each so special, prized, and unique. And beautiful. So beautiful, inwardly and on the surface. I'm going to miss them incredibly. So now, not only is this weekend filled with graduation and moving on from high school friends and teachers (though I intend to stay in contact with a lot of these people), but it is also filled with trying to realize that this was my last caregroup. Next September, I won't be there with H to awkwardly attend the leader retreat, and laugh until our sides ache, and plan our first caregroup, and pray for our girls, preparing the first meeting last minute, despite our best intentions. Though, come to think of it, I'll still be able to laugh, pray, and maybe even help plan with her... I hope :)

It's all rushing up on me. I hardly realized how much I meant to my incredible girls. I love them so much.

And now tomorrow, it's beginning and ending all at once. I really want to clue in, and experience the moments. I want it to register, but I'm also afraid for that to happen, because then my eyes will probably start welling up. I don't feel old enough. I'm thrilled to be wearing the cap and gown, but I feel distanced from what that means, and I don't feel prepared to take it all in. Though I am excited. So very excited.

I like adventures.

C'est printemps

It's been feeling so close to summer. Last week was gloriously sunny... Up in the mid-20's (ºCelsius), with clear blue skies.

Then this week arrived.

It's humid and rainy. Terribly gray. Which is a tad unusual for my hometown... Understandable in a city such as Vancouver perhaps, but certainly not here!

It's reminded me that, at May 25, it is still spring time. There's a few weeks left until summer officially arrives. So I've decided to make the best of it, and share with you a delightful picture of the first signs of spring on Vancouver Island, taken during this past spring break which was very rainy indeed. It doesn't get much more spring-like than this.

And, just to add a bit more whimsy, here's a lovely song by Richard Petit, called "Le printemps" (springtime). It's one of my favourites :)

Oh! One more thing. There must be some truth to the whole idea that "love is in the air" during this time of year... Several new couples seem to have cropped up, some out of near-nowhere! But so long as they don't make like bunnies, I'm good with that at the moment. It's really rather adorable. Sometimes I feel like tweaking the younger kids' noses, and saying "Well aren't you two just the cutest thing". But I wouldn't, and I won't. That would be slightly sickening. Though it is a sign that, for the time being, I'm choosing to not dwell on the harsh reality that most of them will get their hearts broken within a few weeks. Maybe months.

Nonetheless, rosy-cheeked young teens holding hands and getting butterflies in their stomachs do seem to pair well with spring. Usually this annoys me to no end, but this year I don't mind.

Connotations

The funny thing about words:

You can pick a few, like plump, fresh apples, and create a short, sweetly broken sentence that hints at spring and pink and red... soft, cherry blossoms, raspberry yogurt, dainty, lips

You can drag them out, choose terrifyingly long, agonizingly dark words, and thrust into being a sentence replete with ... spikes, shrapnel, ore, hooks, vultures

Maybe something mystical, with dreamily spun, nether-worldly, word webs, hinting at the unseen ... moonlight, grey, purple, cloaks, dusk, secrets, mysteries, dreams, fog

Sunlight, orange smoothie, nectar, honeysuckle, glow ... A warm summer day, waiting to be refreshed with a splash of water while above the sun beats down, lending everyone a golden hue

Connotations. I find they have often to do with colour. I think that perhaps, they may be a way for our brain to explain words, to process information and make sense of language.

More interesting perhaps, are the connotations we attach to individuals, the words, activities, traits, even colours we associate with those around us. But what do they attach to themselves? What do you think of when you think of yourself? Hopefully as simply who you are, with no stereotypes attached. You are you, and so need to bring to mind no thing to explain yourself to yourself. (Or do you?) But who else can do the same? It is the best friend, the parent, the lover... the "kindred spirit" who goes beyond simply associating you with other things. Though they may think of the things you love, attach ideas, memories, words and thoughts to your being, they do not define you by them. Other than God, they come the nearest to knowing you as you see yourself. As you... you, you ... you... Your very soul. For souls, from what I know of them, have no place in the material world of connotation and association. They do not need explanation, as they cannot really be understood by our brains anyway. They are what they are what they are... If they are anything like, or even just reflective of who God says He is:

God said to Moses, “I AM WHO I AM. This is what you are to say to the Israelites: ‘I AM has sent me to you.’” - Exodus 3:14

Explanations and connotations do not suffice.

The body of an elderly man...

I saw something in the newspaper the other day, about police finding the body of an elderly man who had been in a car crash. It wrote of the police pulling the body from his car. There was nothing mentioned about whether or not he was dead.

It made me think... If that man had still been alive while the police took him from his car, would any newspaper article have stated: "Upon finding out that the victim of the car crash was still alive, the police pulled the body out of the car"? My guess would be no; it sounds too awkward. Even if one were to write, "Upon finding out that the victim of the car crash was still alive, the police pulled the victim's body out of the car", it isn't right. This separates the person from their body, which is okay in some situations, such as when one speaks of pure physical motion (her body sprung into lively action). But in this case, when a living victim is being pulled from a car's wreckage, to separate them from their body and make their body alone representative of what is happening to them as a person, seems odd.

No one calls a living person a "body" when discussing them as an entire entity.

But... We can refer to someone who is dead as a "body" quite easily. In fact, when someone does this, any reader or listener will generally assume that the person being spoken of is dead, as shown by the newspaper article I first made mention of. The reader of this article needs no clarification that it was a dead body that was pulled out of the car.

The only time (that I can think of... If you have another example, feel free to share) that a living person is termed as only a body is in a derogatory sense. If you call a woman, or a man for that matter, a "body", you are taking something away from them. You are leaving out some part of who they are. Perhaps you are objectifying them sexually, or as a source of labour. I think that most everyone would agree that there is something wrong about saying: "She/he is only a body." This is dehumanizing. But why is it dehumanizing? What is there to a person other than their body, with their brain and its various connections included therein?

Yet the worldview that purports that matter is all that exists would believe that a human is merely a body, with the only difference between a living body and a dead body being that for the former, blood is flowing, the brain is functioning, etc., while for the latter it is not. So then, how does this account for the fact that when one refers to a body, it is generally assumed that they are referring to a dead person? Can a living person be a body and a body alone?

The English language does not support the proposition that someone living can consist of only a body. Languages develop to suit the needs of their speakers. They develop to express what is understood and deemed by the general populace to be true, and can end up defining, influencing, defending, and even creating beliefs.

This causes me to think that, if a living person cannot merely be referred to as a body, then there is a truth-based reason behind it, a truth that says that there is more to a human than matter alone.

China

Dear T:

I want so badly to go to China. Well, there and a bazillion other places, but especially China at the moment. The cities I'm sure would be fascinating, but I'm thinking mostly of the mountainous villages - the isolated, vast, cool, mist-shrouded, jewel-green jungles that you see in the best kung fu sorts of movies. We'd probably run into some panda poachers and escape from them across rickety 100-year-old wooden bridges, but that's not the main point. We could trek into Mongolia, Bhutan, Nepal, Kazakhstan, and a thousand other places, drink the best tea, and find the most interesting people. Hopefully they're hospitable.

Check out China's topography:

http://www.maps-of-china.net/general/Image4.htm

I can't wait to go.... Someday!

我爱你 - Wǒ ài nǐ

Québecoise

I am leaving for Québec once more this coming August, again to be educated, though this time in more than just the French language.

For those of you who've read my blog about my time in Jonquière, Québec (http://www.christina-abientot.blogspot.com/), you'll know that I spent five weeks last summer being immersed in the French culture and language through a program called Explore. When I returned home last fall, I didn't quite dare imagine that I'd be able to return to La belle province so soon, but here I am, heading off for Montréal and McGill in 111 days. Wow... That's actually the first time I've counted how many days I have left before leaving.

As a student who is passionate about arts and sciences, I've had a tough time deciding what exactly I want to study, but at the moment, I'm thinking a combination of Linguistics and International Relations could be fascinating. We'll see how it goes.... :)