===from the archives of Lindsay e-mail===

R.I.P. Common Sense
Today we mourn the passing of a beloved old friend by the name of Common Sense who has been with us for many years. No one knows for sure how old he was since his birth records were long ago lost in bureaucratic Red tape. He will be remembered as having cultivated such value lessons as knowing when to come in out of the rain, why the early bird gets the worm and that life isn't always fair. Common Sense lived by simple, sound financial policies (don't spend more than you earn) and reliable parenting strategies (adults, not kids, are in charge). His health began to rapidly deteriorate when well intentioned but over bearing regulations were set in place. Reports of a six-year-old boy charged with sexual harassment for kissing a classmate; teens suspended from school for using mouthwash after lunch; and a teacher fired for reprimanding an unruly student, only worsened his condition. It declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer aspirin to a student; but, could not inform the parents when a student became pregnant and wanted to have an abortion. Finally, Common Sense lost the will to live as the Ten Commandments became contraband, churches became businesses, and criminals received better treatment than their victims. Common Sense finally gave up the ghost after a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee was hot, she spilled a bit in her lap, and was awarded a huge settlement. Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust, his wife, Discretion; his daughter, Responsibility; and his son, Reason. Also, a brother, Consideration for Other People. He is survived by two stepbrothers; My Rights and Ima Whiner. Not many attended his funeral because so few realized he was gone. If you still know him pass this on, if not join the majority and do nothing.


I am a BITCH
and proud of it, dammit!
When I stand up for myself and my beliefs, they call me a BITCH. When I stand up for those I love, they call me a BITCH. When I speak my mind, think my own thoughts or do things my own way, they call me a BITCH. Being a BITCH means I won't compromise what's in my heart. It means I live my life my way. It means I won't allow anyone to step on me. When I refuse to tolerate injustice and speak against it, I am defined as a BITCH. The same thing happens when I take time for myself instead of being everyone's maid, or when I act a little selfish. It means I have the courage and strength to allow myself to be who I truly am and won't become anyone else's idea of what they think I "should" be. I am outspoken, opinionated and determined. I want what I want and there is nothing wrong with that! So try to stomp on me, try to douse my inner flame, try to squash every ounce of beauty I hold within me. You won't succeed. And if that makes me a BITCH, so be it. I embrace the title and am proud to bear it.
B = Babe
I = In
T = Total
C = Control of
H = Herself

B = Beautiful
I = Intelligent
T = Talented
C = Charming
H = Hell of a Woman

B = Beautiful
I = Individual
T = That
C = Can
H = Handle anything

just to let you all know, my friends and I are having issues with settings up pictures in this blog. So... My magnificent friend, Lindsay, set-up a photobucket account for me.

This photobucket will have pictures of me, friends, family and many woofs. (Alos, places I have travelled)
So, for your viewing pleasure here is the url:
http://photobucket.com/albums/c338/jessNjetta/

The time has come where I feel the need to blog again. My essay is two pages short of the requirement, but I can’t write anymore. I will increase its length tomorrow-before the deadline of course.
Friday, I head to the airport and fly to my northern Ontario home for Christmas. I can’t wait. I miss my parents and their dog; Flash. I bought her for them about two and a half years ago. She’s a lab/shepherd cross and is adorable! She talks a lot and loves to chase sticks…both typical traits of her two breeds.
Tomorrow night we’re having our final Christmas get together. We’re serving candy cane hot chocolate and apple cider. A few other people are bringing desserts and we’re hauling one of my friend’s keyboards over. That way we can all sing carols and, who knows maybe we’ll get spontaneous and someone will start dancing.
Saturday my parents and I, and Jetta too of course, are going to find our tree. Every year, we trample through the bush trying to find the perfect one. I love it! Sunday, my uncle is having a “welcome home Trish” party for my aunt who has just returned from teaching english in Korea. I’m not sure what else is planned, but I am sure it will be a busy Christmas season.
New Year’s eve is going to be spent at my place. A few of my closest best girls are coming and we’re going to have a bonfire in the backyard-totally sickish yes I know, but damn it is so fun! Last year we dressed up and went to a bar; the year before we rented a cabin and went horseback riding New Year’s eve day; the year before that we spent it at my house and made twister out of a portable phone, newspaper and duct tape. Either way, I’m convinced we’ll have a great time.
Well, I’m off to dream land. I have to get up in the morning and finish this lovely paper. I’m not sure if I’ll write from home, but if I don’t, everyone have a great holiday and have fun no matter what you do.
(Also, my apologies, normally I think I am a little more intellectually stimulating, but this paper has taken everything I have).

Today’s entry will just be a poem I wrote a while ago as I am still writing my 25 page essay. It was a time when many different relationships were either winding down, starting up, or re-kindling.
*Untitled*

Hearts intertwining,
New and Old, sweet and bitter.
Pulsing together as one
Fragments of beauty.

Rekindled unsure,
The world, showing each one
As powerful and true.
The heart never lies.

Through struggle or laughs,
Feel it in its purest form,
The rawness leaves you in awe
Remarkable love.

02/21/2005

I don’t think I have anything constructive to say today. I seem to be in a state of nostalgia. Yesterday was a pretty uneventful day, as far as happenings that might have some sort of impact on the greater good of the world. I went to the gym and did my conditioning-and traipsed doggedly through the snow that no one shovels, but I have already written about that-studied, made mashed potatoes and ribs for supper, held a Confederation of the Bitches meeting-where we constructed a gingerbread house, which became a gingerbread mastaba (my roommates are archaeology majors that should explain that)-and then a few of us headed to a local bar to sing karaoke. We spent the rest of the night singing and dancing-oh, and a little drinking. Jetta came too and was quite embarrassed when I brought her up on stage. I promised her a cookie when we got home and she seemed to forgive me a little. It was actually quite fun. I sang “I saw the Sign,” and oldie, but a goody and people started dancing and singing along with me. It definitely was good times. (I even gave my number to a guy I’ve had a crush on for a while, but we’ll see what happens). I won’t go into those details as they are irrelevant and…well, we just won’t go there.
Tonight we’re going to a friend’s house for a potluck and we’re bringing scalloped potatoes. There have been promises of very chocolatey desserts so that is an interesting prospect. Jetta will be able to play with other wuffs, as Medley, Cotton (pronounced in french), and perhaps a few others will be there. Jetta and Medley get along the best since he doesn’t’ use his huge bulk to his advantage. Jetta is a pretty small lab and there seems to be a trend of her getting picked on. She can run extremely fast and I think it makes the other dogs mad that they can’t catch her. So when they do, they usually gang up on her. Poor little black Jetty. (Yes, I know I’m being over protective. I’d hate to see what will happen if I ever have children).
Well, I’ll stop my pointless rambling and hopefully do something more constructive. I have laundry that I need to fold, a paper to write and biology to study for.
And since I have not been that thought provoking today, I’ll eave you with this:
Contrary to popular belief, sexuality is not a subject that is easily discussed. There are numerous topics that are controversial and make people uncomfortable, and even more that may not be considered for the idea may never cross one’s mind. The popular media leads one to believe that the definition of sexuality is clearly outlined and understood. In reality, there are many hard, unanswered questions regarding sexuality. Furthermore, the definition of sexuality, or even just the understanding of what sexuality might be, is very unclear. The experiences and challenges presented to an individual, by society, helps to define one’s sexuality. By examining “the ways in which studying the sociology of sexualities challenges our take-for-granted or common sense views as: natural and straightforward, unproblematic when it is heterosexual, a matter of private individual choice, free from social values and dictates and an unchanging experience common to all people,” one may start to recognize the complexity of sexuality.
(The rough introduction to my essay).

Christmas is one of mine and Jetta’s favourite times of the year. Being from northern Ontario, I love the snow-and I don’t just mean little sprinklings to make everything white. I mean lots of snow. Enough snow to get the snowmachines out, or go sliding on a hill, or a sleigh ride and be able to shove each other off. That is the kind of snow I am talking about.
Jetta loves it too. She bounds through it and prances around like a show horse. She likes rolling in it and burying her face. She also wouldn’t turn down a good game of catching snowballs. Her and Flash, my parents dog, chase each other and eat snow until they can barely move. (That is when I am actually home).
Wow I digress. I meant to make this entry about our Christmas decorating last night.
Hmm moving on.
Anyway, my roommates and I went out for supper last night to one of my favourite restaurants in Waterloo. Then we headed over to Star Bucks and picked up mint hot chocolate to quench our thirsts while decorating the house. When we got home we busted out the garland, stockings, angels, wreaths and whatever we could get our hands on that was Christmas. It took all of about an hour and a half with tons of laughs, some crazy dancing to Christmas tunes and, of course, mint hot chocolate.
I was put on front door duty. I hung red and gold garland around the window on the door and taped little gold reindeer to the panes of glass. A small wreath was hung in the middle pane for centrality and balance…don’t ask! I also climbed up on a kitchen chair and taped fake icicles to the door frame of our front entrance way. Slightly dangerous? I think not!
Carmen, my roommate, set to work on hanging garland and stars around the living room and writing in permanent marker the names of everyone on their respective stockings. Or, in the case of the kittens, their red and white mittens. Speaking of the kittens, they found great joy in chasing the decorations we dropped, or the crappy suction cups we tried to stick to the windows that kept popping off.
Christena, AKA Tenie, busied herself with more garland and angels and hammering nails into the brick wall of our kitchen to hang the stockings on…again don’t ask. When was all said and done-and the Christmas music had finished playing and our hot chocolate cups were empty-the house looked pretty festive. The best part was, when I took Jetta out for her night bathroom break, it had started snowing giant flakes; swirling in light fluff, painting the fence posts and trees in our front yard.
(Again, I digress…and get a little sentimental).
It was a blast. Thanks girls! And a much lighter topic than my sociology of sexuality essay I have been working on all day.

There seem to be a few topics grasping for my attention today. The most pressing issue, that seems to bother me the most, is the excessive rock salt use in Waterloo. I understand that this issue won’t necessarily change the world, or make much of a difference, but I think I’ll bitch about it anyway.
This morning I harnessed Jetta up and headed out to my appointment. I ended up being very late because of the multiple stops that Jetta and I had to make in order to wipe the salt from the pads of her paws. I do not comprehend the reasons for over using the toxic, carcinogenic crap to coat dry sidewalks. It hasn’t snowed in Waterloo as of late and there hasn’t been any ice either. Why a thick layer was dumped along the sidewalk near the university is beyond me.
Don’t people know how horrible this stuff is? In northern Ontario, rock salt never is used unless it is icy and, sand, which is used to create traction, cannot do the job. In southern Ontario, people use salt for everything. It snows, and instead of actually shovelling, people take the easy way out. The only problem is that, the salt melts the snow, the snow turns into water, it gets colder out and the watery snow turns into ice. Thus, you have a vicious cycle.
Besides the stupidity and laziness of the situation, the rock salt is extremely damaging. It rusts cars, discolours clothes, winter boots and every it touches, and it soaks into the earth and poisons animals and plants. Not to mention it burns every dog’s, guide dog or not, paws. Yes I know sand can create problems too because in the spring it will clog the sewer covers, but those issues are easier to deal with than pollution and sick people and animals.
Certainly, there is no easy answer to this dilemma, but bloody Hell people, just shovel and that would make a little difference.

I sit here wide awake for two reasons. 1: I drank coffee at 9 at night, big mistake and 2: my shoulder hurts. I injured it in swim practice about two weeks ago and have only started getting treatment on it. So I thought I’d write a blog and see how it goes.
I still haven’t figured out how to title these damn things, but I’m sure eventually I’ll solve the enigma. If I could title them, I’d entitle this one “Cell Phone Man.” A few days ago I was returning from the gym-as I have so many times before-walking along one of the main drags of Waterloo. As I approached the street I was about to cross I noticed a guy on his cell phone. He basically ceased talking as I drew near, but as this happens quite often, I didn’t think much of it. (Just as a side note, if you ever are near a blind person, don’t stop talking! When you talk it is easier to tell where you are and thus helps me from running you over). Jett and I got to the curb where we prepared to cross. I listened for traffic; made sure she was paying attention; and when I felt it was safe, we crossed. As I was reaching the opposite side I heard Mr. Speechless exclaim enthusiastically, “You’ll never guess what I just saw!” He continued to give the listener the play-by-play of Jettta and I crossing the street. In hockey you give play-by-plays, not when someone is walking across a street, especially when they are still in ear shot. I understand that he probably has never seen a guide dog “up close and personal” before, but I mean come on! Isn’t there some kind of human intelligence still left on this planet? I don’t mind educating people, but he could have waited until I was out of ear shot, or he was at home to describe what he saw. I don’t call my friends up and describe a sighted person getting on a bus! It’s the same concept. I am not blind-my ears work, in fact, I rely on them more than sighted people do-I have some kind of intellectual capabilities-I run about a B + or A average in university. Hmm, maybe I’ll leave this socially charged topic for you to ponder while I move onto less confusing and controversial topics.
Jetta’s birthday was a hit. Medley, another guide dog, and his handler came over and he and Jetta pigged out on a 3 layer peanut butter, dog cookie cake built by my roommate. There were leftovers and they were placed in the fridge, for I fear too much peanut buttery goodness could lead to upset puppy stomachs. The four of us-the 4 girls who make up the Confederation of the Bitches *a story for another time*-exchanged Christmas presents, as next week is going to be too crazy with exams. My roommates got me the first Harry Potter book on CD and a wooden bole sprinkled with mother of pearl pieces. The bole is to be used for displaying my small but growing rock collection. The stones have been specifically picked for their natural energy and essence. For example, I have a piece of jade for its “peaceful sleep” properties. Yes, I know, very hippie/dippy.
Anyway, I should try to sleep. I have to get up early in the morning to go get my ribs worked on. (With some luck I will be back in the water in a week).w

As this is the first blog I have written, whoever reads this must bare with me. I'm not exactly sure what to write about, but maybe this wil give some insight into the workings of my life. Today is my leader dog Jetta's birthday. She's turning five. I first got her when she was a yeear and a half, so we've had some interesting times. She's a small black lab with the biggest, dreamiest brown eyes. I think her birthday celebrations will include: peanut butter birthday cookies, a new bone and many hugs. she's already received a birthday email from her fellow leader dog, Willow. Willow and her mom Laura were our roommates when we were at guide dog school. The girls are actually half sisters. Their Dad, Magic, was a yellow lab and even though Willow has grown to be bigger than Jetta, I think they still love each other. Anyway, as it's exam time here in Waterloo, I better go study for my finals.