A Little Ish

Logically, in the week leading up to a six month long exchange, one would spend most of their time packing and preparing. However, I have been procrastinating and my poison of choice has been the creation of a travel blog. In the past few days, I have spent countless hours testing blogs on various websites. It took me the duration of family movie night to realize that Wordpress wasn't worth the effort. This revelation was followed by a lesson in the downfalls of Tumblr the subsequent morning.

After what felt like an eternity of frustration riddled with html code and cheesy blog backgrounds, I decided to stick to what I know, and what I know is Blogger. I racked my brain for the perfect title to sum up my impending exchange and after polling friends and family, I settled on the title "The Local Foreigner". This title encompassed the fact that during my trip I would live the life of a local while remaining a foreigner by nature. Unfortunately, "thelocalforeigner.blogspot.com" was already claimed.

Upon my mother's suggestion, I kept the title and simply changed the url to be "Ishani's exchange". Later that day, I proudly showed the product of three days work to my close friend. As I typed in the url, she turned to me with her eyes wide and then burst into fits of laughter. Once she caught her breath she showed me that my new and improved url "ishanisexchange.blogspot.com" did not just read "Ishani's exchange" but also "Ishani Sex Change".

Though I have been told that this trip will make me into a whole new person, that was a bit more of a change than I am ready to handle. I quickly removed the blog from the interweb to avoid any calls from concerned relatives and came up with an entirely new site. My new blog may not have the same dramatic title as its predecessor, but my trip is meant to be transnational, not transgendered. To settle any confusion, gender-related or otherwise; I needed a change.

To read about my transition and so much more, be sure to head on over to "Tripping through the EU" (www.trippingthroughtheeu.blogspot.com).

Goodbye to the years of double zeroes. No longer will our dates look like googly eyes squashed between two arbitrary numbers. No sir. We have entered the 2010s, the decade of my twenties, and a whole new level of opportunity. Excited? Terrified? I'm a little of both.



*Re-posted from Siva's funtastic blog, piquant. Check it.

It's 8am; I've given up any form of personal appearance and traded it in for a uniform of sweatpants and baggy tshirts; I'm living off crackers and boxed noodles, and I reek of exam studying and lack of sleep, but it all comes down to today. One day, two exams, and my gateway to freedom. LET'S DO THIS.

Thanks to global warming, Hamilton is still lined with green grass and snow-free streets. Though I am a big fan of wearing shorts during the Canadian winter, the schizophrenic weather is proving to be more than just warmer winters. After days of tepid temperatures, yesterday felt like a cold slap in the face.

Cold weather and I have always had a dysfunctional relationship. Heartbreaking movies don’t inspire more than a sniffle, but there is something about the abusive icy winds always make my eyes water. As soon as the temperature dips below tolerable, I strategically change to waterproof mascara and prepare for my walks to class to be accompanied by tears. Yesterday was one such day. In an attempt to minimize my exposure to the frosty outdoors, I decided to bike to class. Biking there was great. The wind was so strong that getting to class was a breeze (har har). The way back; however, was like riding with an elastic band attached to the back of my bike. The closer I got to home, the harder it got to peddle. The wind was so strong that I was peddling just so that I could stay upright. Tears were streaming down my face. I could barely see, my legs had become faint cyclone-like blurs spinning parallel to my bike, and I was moving so slowly that old ladies were walking past me. The wind eventually persuaded me off my bike; though walking home was slower, it downgraded the wind to a less violating breeze.

Lesson learned: Being bullied by the weather is not worth it. Now that environment is PMSing, retreat indoors where you can play God and control the climate.

After the high stress forced labour that was November; Mac students have moved into December with a dwindling will to persevere. Classes are finished and motivation is decreasing as rapidly as Tiger's reputation. Campus is a ghost town haunted by the faint shells of overworked and under-rested students. The streets are empty, but the libraries are full. With the tease of Christmas vacation, concentrated studying is comparable to walking through the desert in order to get to a distant oasis. Paradise free from the harsh reality of academia is in sight, but the closer I get, the harder it is to keep working. Two more weeks until I can sleep until noon, watch movies all day, eat fabulous food, and not worry about the work that I "should" be doing. The end is nigh, and I can't wait.

I am completely bogged down with assignments so naturally I’ve been spending a lot of time sitting on the couch, with a computer on my lap, and pretending to work while I watch television. In my academically overloaded state, I have not found the time to go grocery shopping. Though I’m getting to live out my childhood dream of living on Nutella sandwiches and Kraft Dinner, my taste buds have gone into a state of remission. The other day, I settled into my natural position of procrastination on the couch and started ‘writing my paper’ while watching The Tyra Show. When Tyra was forced to stop talking about herself and go to a commercial, an ad for Pizza Pizza came on the screen. All of a sudden, my taste buds were doing the samba and I was drooling enough to water the desert. The commercial was showing all the fancy fresh toppings that you could get on your pizza; tomatoes were rolling out of baskets, water was dripping off lettuce, and mushrooms were ricochet off counters.

Watching all the water droplet laden produce bounce around in slow motion made me feel like I was watching the agricultural version of Baywatch. Since when has bounce-ability of vegetables translated to freshness? As I watched onions rebound off a cutting board, I was instilled with the need to throw down all future produce and seeing if they rebound with the vigor of televised freshness. Considering the questionable nature of the contents of my fridge, this test will come in handy. Thank you Pizza Pizza for teaching me that if it bounces back, you’re good to go.

All we need to do to combat obesity is to make the world into a playground.