Before I settle down to write my first research paper of the year, I am going to take a moment to write an entry. I am a busy girl now, moreso than I've been in a while. I am in school every weekday and, with few exceptions, I am also working every weekend in Toronto. These last couple of days, I've been somewhat lax in my attitude to homework, but that changes as of today. Beginning Friday, my intense assignment schedule begins. What had been one project a week is now something closer to two or three and for the first time in my post-secondary life, I realise that I will have to study over Reading Week. My plate is full. This is not to say that I won't make time for other things, only that I'll have to use that time sparingly. Random art projects will have to give over to reviews and reports and TV time will probably be shared with writing time.

I went out after class yesterday to visit my friend Kerri, who has the horses and with whom I used to ride, and could only visit briefly because I'd already had a full day and was tired. I set up a horsey date for today, but thanks to coming down with something last night, I got to cancel it today. I managed to get to school this morning for our first meeting about the exhibit my section will be planning and building for the Peterborough Museum, but had to leave prior to the following class because of dizziness. It was my first sick day, which is pretty good for me. The thing is, I don't want to miss anything - it's so exciting. Well, alright, I could live without Care of Collections, but not if I plan to graduate. Anyway, I slept from 11:30am straight until 3:30pm despite having had a decent night's sleep. I'm still a bit woozy now, but at least I've roughed out my plans for this paper. Anyway, my point was that I'm so busy that getting sick will seriously interrupt my schedule. Well, I guess that's the real world for you.

I've now met all my instructors with the exception of the man who, starting next week, will be teaching us Archival Management, and generally, I am satisfied. Ken has been the most fun and probably the most flexible. Deb is very nice, patient and genuinely interested in our well being, but she's extremely task oriented and I suspect she's not quite sure how to handle those of us who take the tangental path through life. Gayle is... tiny. She's nice and chipper, but she has a tendency to talk down to us or, alternately, expects us to know all about science. I think she forgets that most of us come out of an arts background and few of us actually went all the way in the maths or sciences in highschool. Regardless, highschool was a long time ago. I'm still not sure exactly what we're meant to get from Care of Collections, but I'm taking copious notes and participating - if for no other reason than to stay awake.

Yes, I'm still very happy to be back in school. I'm enjoying it and I know I've already made new friends. My peers are an eclectic bunch who come out of varied social strata, but whose values are basically the same as my own. As one student said, "I had no idea there were so many nerds like me out in the world. I'm happy to know I'm not alone." Amen.

I don't know where the time has gone. This week has flown by as I never would have expected. Whoosh ! gone. I can flip through my agenda (one of those chunky, ugly types you get in highschool and at UofT they make you pay for - this one came with the college so I can't complain too much) and literally plan my entire semester around projects. Back in university, a whole month could elapse without any major work followed by two weeks of brutal essay/exam writing. Part of that was cause because none of the professors communicated with each other or cared about schedules for other classes. At Fleming, at least in the Museum programme, which is small, all the faculty know each other and they clearly set down their evaluation/project dates so that no week is particularly brutal. Instead, when I flip through my agenda, I am faced with an on-going stream of red ink through the entire term. One thing that this allows is appropriate time management. And, because so much of the work is team-based, you can't really fall behind. I say this now, but so far, so good.

I got my first assignment back, the one where I had to write about a profound museum experience. I kind of mocked the project at the time, but when I read it aloud to my mother, I realised just how much I managed to say in 1200 words and how well I'd said it. The instructor of that class informed us that he very seldom assigns marks above 90% so imagine my pleasure at discovering I'd earned a 93%. He said, "It was a real pleasure to read," and I kvelled. The marks for the two group assignments (from last week and today) should be in next Friday and hopefully we did well on those, too. I really do plan to rock this course. I am not the competitive person I was when I was younger, but I think I've learned to value doing well.

Anyway, Yom Kippur begins tonight, the Jewish day of Atonement. This is, as for many other religions, a season of reflection and contemplation, a time to look back on the year and set the tone for the year to come. It is harvest time. We reap what we sew. Though, generally speaking, I feel I've lived the past year with more compassion and generosity than I have in previous years, there are always situations or moments that slip through cracks. I may have hurt people, or undervalued someone. I know that I've certainly been hurt. I do not mean to cause pain and have worked hard to let go of the things that upset me, that I cannot change. I believe I am a better person and hope to continue into the new year on the same path. Shana Tovah, happy New Year, happy harvest, blessed be, etc., etc. As this year has marked a wonderful change for me, may the new year do the same for many others.

I have decided that there are some things I want to do before I'm thirty. I want to finish my programme at Fleming and get a decent job doing something challenging in a museum - NOT work a register. I want to go back to Europe, specifically to the UK, Holland, and visit Italy. Also, I want to be beginning (if not already enrolled)in a post-graduate degree when I'm thirty. This seems do-able. Three years isn't so long that you can lose sight of the short-term, but it's also not so short as to be impossible. Anyway, first things first. Tomorrow, I begin my real schedule of classes.

Riding the Queen/King St. streetcar (the 510) to work on Sunday mornings from Rick's house is really nice. It's quiet, usually with fewer than ten people on it (sometimes I'm the only passenger), quick, and pretty. Downtown Toronto is so interesting and at nine o'clock on a Sunday morning, the sidewalks aren't cluttered with people so you can actually look at the gardens and buildings. The St. James church (I don't know what denomination it is, though I want to say it's Anglican) is on that route and when I pass it, it's bells are ringing. There aren't a lot of churches in the city that still have functional bells, or if they do, they don't often get rung, so I really enjoy its chorus. A tiny part of me always wants to disembark and go inside, which is kind of bizarre considering, well, I'm not christian. At any rate, I love the sound.

Tonight, after work, Rick's coming to pick me up at the museum so we can have supper at Red Rose - I think that's where we're going, since we're planning on having curry. I do like that restaurant so much. I haven't tried the Indian in Peterborough, and I understand there are a couple of places, of which at least one is pretty good, but there's just nothing like going to a favourite restaurant where you know exactly what you're going to get and it's going to be delicious. Following dinner, I have to catch the seven-thirty bus back to the Petes. I have to admit, much as I don't enjoy fasting, the day off that Yom Kippur will afford me will be very much appreciated.

The Word of the Day for Sep 16 is:
shofar \SHOH-far\ noun : a ram's-horn trumpet blown by the ancient Hebrews in battle and during religious observances and used in modern Judaism especially during Rosh Hashanah and at the end of Yom Kippur

Example sentence: The first blast of the shofar echoed within the sanctuary, announcing the beginning of the High Holy Days.

Did you know? One of the shofar's original uses was to proclaim the Jubilee year (a year of emancipation of Hebrew slaves and restoration of alienated lands to their former owners) or the anointing of a new king. Today, it is mainly used in synagogues during the High Holy Days. It is blown during the month of Elul (the 12th month of the civil year or the 6th month of the ecclesiastical year in the Jewish calendar) until the end of Rosh Hashanah and again at the end of the last service on Yom Kippur as reminders to attend to spiritual matters. The custom is to sound the shofar in broken notes resembling sobbing and wailing followed by a long unbroken sound.

And with that, let me wish you all a very happy new year (the year 5765 !) that is healthy, happy, and prosperous. We had our Rosh Hashanah dinner tonight, rather than last night, as I was at a field trip to Petroglyphs Provincial Park. I don't feel too bad about it since Petroglyphs is a very spiritual place. It was a fantastic field trip ending a day of field trips (Lang Pioneer Village as well as the Canoe Museum). The Canoe Museum was pretty moving, too, but for other reasons. I've never seen an institution so desperate for financial donations and volunteers as it is. If I had millions of dollars, I would give them a fat donation so that they could give their substantial and important collections (not just of canoes) a proper facility. That said, I think I've been inspired to volunteer there.

I don't have much else to add. Go to Chabad online to read more about Rosh Hashanah if you're interested.

I am in the process of finishing up my homework for class tomorrow. It's bizarre to have homework again after all this time. It's a "brief" assignment, but despite that, it is a thinking assignment and has taken me much longer to write than I'd anticipated. I am writing of a museum experience and the effect that it has had on me, at the same time observing its broader implications within the parameters laid out by the instructor, based on the programme of study. Phew, that was an awkward sentence. Initially, I had intended to write about the Degas exhibition I attended as a kid at the National Gallery in Ottawa, but in the end, I've decided against it. You see, I have written about it in the past, and when you get down to it, the "Eternal Egypt" exhibition at the ROM this past spring afforded me many more fresh, interesting experiences and a very new outlook on the place of museums in our society.

I am specifically discussing the visit early on in the exhibit's run of the special needs group. They were a group of downs-syndrome sufferers and high-functioning autistics. And they were wonderful. At any rate, they make a fascinating experience to discuss, especially when putting it in the context of just who exhibits are meant to appeal to and the prejidice inherent in such judgements. Or something to that effect. And also how it changed my outlook on the exhibit, my role as an educator, and exactly what a museum ought to be.

There really only need to be one or two paragraphs in order to conclude this assignment, but for some reason, despite seeing the conclusion in my mind, I'm having a terrible time putting it down in words. This is what happens when you have been out of school for two years. My highly pollished thought process has become rusted and stiff through disuse. Arg. It is terribly frustrating. I really feel the effort involved in synthesising my ideas and getting them down on paper in an ordered way. No rambling allowed, tangents are to be avoided, if possible, and please, no more than 1500 words ! 1500 words?! In university, that could be the equivalent of two paragraphs ! How am I supposed to say everything I want in such a short assignment?!

*thunk*

How much furniture can a woman assemble? Well, that's a good and completely relevant question that I have attempted to answer this week. I put together three different units for my bedroom. You see, I am transforming (with the help of my mother) my room from that of a girl to that of a studious adult. Or something. The conditions could not bear my computer, printer, scanner, stereo, etc. and the dresser was simply incapable of handling my substantial wardrobe. As it is, I have already weeded out about ten items that can be given to charity and there's plenty remaining for me to dig through. My computer, Natasha, will be very happy and well kept in my new and beautifully made computer armoire. It took nearly four hours to put together last night, but it's gorgeous and more than satisfactory. Installing her into it is another story and will probably wait until Monday night.

This week has had me not only constructing furniture and moving it about, but also at school. Despite the relative frustrations that accompany the return to school (any school, really), such as having every single book on the list sold out, photo ID office closing at 4pm (the same time class ends), hour-and-a-half waits for the financial aid office, and the ever tedious 'introduce the new students to every frigging staff member at the college' presentations, it has been very enjoyable. The first two weeks are an immersion into the programme, and held at the Centennial Museum and Archives. We already had an introductory fieldtrip to the Trent University Archives and Hutchison House today. "Death by Slides" wasn't nearly so deadly as all that, and for the most part, my classmates seem like a really interesting bunch. Thirty-eight students, only two of them male, all of them, but the Trent linkage students holding at least one degree. We've already been thrown into groups and our first piece of homework is due Monday. Our first project (a group presentation) is to happen on Thursday, and then there will be two more projects due the following week and the one after that.

Whew ! There's going to be a lot of work and the days might seem long - one of them beginning at eight in the morning - especially on those that require a commute from college campus to museum site, but I just know it's going to be awesome. I only hear great things from past students and the faculty are zealous and more than qualified.

As for the living with Mom? So far, so good. I stunned her by going out and buying groceries. Next, I'll have to cook. :)

Well, I've moved. Despite taking three hours longer than I'd anticipated, which made for some chaos at the Peterborough end, everything ended up running smoothly. (Smoothly. Think about that word - it's kind of weird. Say it slowly to yourself.) The whole moving process, from the time I picked up the van to when everything was emptied out of it, took about thirteen hours. First, we moved Stew. My friend Megan helped in the morning - she's so reliable for things like that. I happened to have found the Christmas gift I bought for her three years ago (and then lost) so I was able to give it to her, as well as the Sesame Street underwear I bought for her in New York in June. "I love New York in June, how about you?" She remarked on my lack of organisation, but in fact, I was a lot more organised than she thought. Everything was sorted, it was just kind of hodgepodge all over. And, I reminded her, that though it was easier to move her back in May, at least she didn't have to wade through cat vomit to help me.

Derek helped out in the afternoon when Stew and I returned from his storage space. We'd had fun cramming his stuff into the unit, and with the exception of smashing the glass cover of his clock's face, it was pretty uneventful. I even spun him around while he was sitting on the dolly. At one point, while we were loading the van full of all my frigging heavy art books, Derek and I rubbed our sweaty heads together and I thought Stew was going to vomit he looked so disgusted. Just to be sure, I asked the landladies if I could leave some of my stuff and they said yes. So, following my Birthday outing on Saturday with Tracy and her mom, I'll load up Mom's car with the last of it.

I'm sorry this entry is so disjointed, but it's the best I can do today. I'm thinking in tangents, I'm afraid. Let's blame exhaustion. In fact, I went to bed at a quarter past eleven last night. Rick was surprised to find me already dozing under the covers. He was very good to me last night, running out after the hockey game to get me some wonton soup and an eggroll. I wouldn't go with him as I'd fully sagged into the couch and did not think I'd be able to move until after I'd eaten.

I don't know how I'm going to manage turning myself into a lovely lady for tonight. Rick's taking me to see The Last Empress and dinner at Penelope beforehand. I forgot my shoes at my old apartment, so I'll dash over there to get them, then back to Rick's where I will change. Then off to the restaurant. Whew.

That's it. I can't type anymore.