addenendum.

PS. No. I do NOT have frostbite. I just almost had frostbite. Sorry for the confusion.

it's cold.

Today, I fulfilled a childhood dream. I saw Bonhomme. Bonhomme is a Quebecois snowman, the mascot of the winter carnival. When I was 5 years old, I went to the Carnaval with high hopes of seeing Bonhomme. But then I didn't see him. My dad said he was sleeping. But, 17 years later.....youppi! I can die happy, albeit with frostbitten toes (I walked around in the freezing -20 (plus windchill...) weather for the entire day).

cigars and a cemetary

I smoked a cigar in a cemetary on a snowy evening last night.

After that, I had a get-together with 4 strangers and 2 friends at 1 AM: one Buddhist, one Muslim and 4 Christians. With my dad's homemade brew in our systems, the conversation quickly turned into a heated discussion of religion. Then, this morning, Jehovah Witnesses came over. I also sat with the only Messianic Jew in Quebec at a restaurant this morning. All in the span of 5 hours. I'm just waiting for a Mormon to walk over my threshhold.

Could someone please tell me why I shouldn't be a universalist? There are people out there who are just as passionate (sometimes even more so, although that could be the effects of the wine) about their faith and their god. And I can't bring myself to undermine their intelligence either and say that they are stupid for believing what they believe. What makes us right and them wrong?

sorry.

I HATE THIS STUPID NEW BLOGGER. IT WON'T LET ME POST ON ANYBODY'S BLOG (at least, not without a 10-minute long rigamorole). DON'T SIGN UP. STICK WITH THE OLD, EVERYBODY. And I'm sorry if you are not getting comments from me. I've been dealing with my new blog.

tobogganing

Hurray for snow and steep hills! Despite a near-frostbite experience and a nasty cold, I rather enjoyed it when our toboggan became air-borne. And to top the afternoon off, we (my semi-permanent room mate and a class mate) drank fair-trade hot chocolate.

simon.

My semi-permanent room mate, Marie-Claire and I were on the bus. A guy in a bowler cap and big, black, thick-rimmed glasses. His name is Simon. Simon likes to travel. As it is a bad habit that I have in regards to strangers, we went out for coffee with him. Basically, he lives in Quebec only when he runs out of money and needs to make some more to travel again. Fascinating. Why can't I be that free-spirited? Why do I stress about getting into grad school? I should just travel. Why have I gotten myself into stupid student loans that prevent me from putting a backpack on and waving good bye to this continent?

Uh oh. It's kicked in again-- that nomadic spirit that follows me around. It's been lying dormant for several months now, as I soak in this (still) agreeable Quebecoise culture.