I just finished reading your book: Infidel. I couldn't put it down. I read it on the bus, I read it at work when I wasn't supposed to, I read it standing up and walking down the sidewalk (Which, in truth, is not very wise).
As a young white woman who has grown up in Canada, your story both humbled, and deeply inspired me. I'm eighteen years old with an interest in politics, human rights, and the future of our world. Never before has something moved me this much in the direction of wanting to make a difference. Your book has made me think, even reconsider some of my attitudes on the multicultural policies that my own country hold.
I cannot thank you enough for sharing your story. I wish I could write more but there is so much that I don't know how to say. (And the chances of you reading this are pretty slim).
Inspired and sincerely,
Paige
Showing posts with label library. Show all posts
Showing posts with label library. Show all posts
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Thursday, August 4, 2011
Cans
You can't close a can, so it carries a certain sense of urgency. You need to drink it before it spills, you need to drink it before you go anywhere. You can't take it on the bus and you can't leave it around your house because dust will settle into it or a fly might get in there and you wouldn't even be able to see it.
That's another problem with cans, you can't see through them. Someone could slip something in there and you wouldn't even know until you drank it. Hell, they could add a poison, and the poison could change the colour of the drink if it damn well wanted, but you wouldn't know, because it's in a can.
But cans are made out of aluminum, which is pretty sweet. So we'll deal.
(this is why I buy my energy drinks in the big cans, you know, with the tops on them. Not because I need that much energy drink, but because I can close it, and take it on the bus, and take it to work.
I guess I'm not only paying for more energy drink (Which I don't even need) but I'm also paying for the convince of the lid. I guess I'm getting screwed by the corporation.
And it tastes like taurine and ginseng. Delish)
That's another problem with cans, you can't see through them. Someone could slip something in there and you wouldn't even know until you drank it. Hell, they could add a poison, and the poison could change the colour of the drink if it damn well wanted, but you wouldn't know, because it's in a can.
But cans are made out of aluminum, which is pretty sweet. So we'll deal.
(this is why I buy my energy drinks in the big cans, you know, with the tops on them. Not because I need that much energy drink, but because I can close it, and take it on the bus, and take it to work.
I guess I'm not only paying for more energy drink (Which I don't even need) but I'm also paying for the convince of the lid. I guess I'm getting screwed by the corporation.
And it tastes like taurine and ginseng. Delish)
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Sarah Palin's facebook password
It's summer again, so I'm going to try to blog ERR-Y-DAY.
Except the weekends. I'm going to blog every weekday.
AND MAKE MONEY~
(I've already made 90 whole cents. HOLY SHIT. /sarcasm)
So, I work at the library right?
I put all the books away after you people return them.
Sometimes, books are arranged in funny ways
LIKE TODAY:
The fiction (Not-Real : DD ) books are arranged by author's last name.
Sometimes I'll get a really trashy author who's last name starts with the same three letters as a famous classic author (This may be deliberate, since most trashy author names are pseudonyms anyways)
AT ANYRATE:
Today I picked out a book called "Ravaged by a Viking"
Now, along with being completely historically inaccurate (the title should have read more like "Raped and Pillaged by a viking" amirtie?) This novel was obviously very very trashy.
They used the word 'ravaged', suuuuuper trashy.
Anyways, as it turns out, this novel goes right next to Charles dickens' classic novel: Great Expectations.
Buhahahhahahaheheh.
EDIT: Pics
Except the weekends. I'm going to blog every weekday.
AND MAKE MONEY~
(I've already made 90 whole cents. HOLY SHIT. /sarcasm)
So, I work at the library right?
I put all the books away after you people return them.
Sometimes, books are arranged in funny ways
LIKE TODAY:
The fiction (Not-Real : DD ) books are arranged by author's last name.
Sometimes I'll get a really trashy author who's last name starts with the same three letters as a famous classic author (This may be deliberate, since most trashy author names are pseudonyms anyways)
AT ANYRATE:
Today I picked out a book called "Ravaged by a Viking"
Now, along with being completely historically inaccurate (the title should have read more like "Raped and Pillaged by a viking" amirtie?) This novel was obviously very very trashy.
They used the word 'ravaged', suuuuuper trashy.
Anyways, as it turns out, this novel goes right next to Charles dickens' classic novel: Great Expectations.
Buhahahhahahaheheh.
EDIT: Pics
Thursday, May 20, 2010
FIC CAM
She wondered if she could be more open and honest if she wrote in the third person, like she was writing a story of sorts. She wondered.
She was plopped down on her bed, her laptop on her lap at 11:03 pm. It was a Thursday. A part of her brain willed her to go back to sleep, now that she had finished washing herself and her clothes. She didn't want to sleep just yet, however, she wanted to write a bit first. Just a teensy bit about her life and how it unfolded. She considered gussying it up a bit to make it seem more exciting then it really was, but she decided against it in the end.
Her day had passed pretty much uneventful, an average day at school, albeit a particularly slow one. Her few highlights of her academic hours past had been her free period, where she played (More like faillled D :) Starcraft with her friends, and lunch, when she played D&D with the same friends and more.
She hadn't bothered with her hair today, and even slacked on the clothing department, opting for a messy ponytail hidden under a hat, and an aging tank top hidden under a sweater. This was due in part to the fact that she had been up late the night before with her best friend, and in part to the fact that she assumed she wasn't going to see him today. She didn't like to admit it, but in the soft glow of her nightstand light, she felt like she could type it up.
She had seen him today however, first, as she entered her place of work. He was leaving with a few friends of theirs. Out searching for ways to make money and places to spend that money on. She expected that to be all she saw of him today, and hummed "A Kiss To Build A Dream On" to herself as she worked. She remarked that the only reason she knew the song was because it played in the opening and ending sequences of Fallout 2. In 1998 she had spent many a day watching her parents search out the fabled vault 13.
She saw him again when he showed up at her place of work, determined to sit out the hours until she was off.
"I don't get off for another two hours!" she said, sitting on a book stool, a book with a call number of 649.xxx was halfway to it's cataloged location, frozen in her hand.
"So?" He said. She laughed and offered to sign him into a computer.
When work was over, they both piled into her mother's car and back to her place, where they promptly lay down and fell asleep. They slept just long enough for him to miss his bus home.
Sitting with her laptop 20 minutes later, she reread her story, and didn't speak. She didn't like how the last lines would seem like an outright lie to anyone who didn't know her. Despite the fact that they were impeccably true and also completely plausible. She figured that people reading would think that she had inserted "sleeping" as substitute for something much more explicit. She smirked and shook her head. Sleeping is awesome.
She thought also that she should mention her best friend, who she had shared kraft dinner and perogies with today. Her best friend who recently said something out loud that She herself was never strong enough to admit when she was in a similar situation. She smiled and mimed holding up a glass in toasting motion. "A toast!" she thought "To Harold Q Poppinjay, My best friend and a strong person."
She realized that neither person mentioned in this blog would read it, and she was okay with that. She was ready to sleep.
She was plopped down on her bed, her laptop on her lap at 11:03 pm. It was a Thursday. A part of her brain willed her to go back to sleep, now that she had finished washing herself and her clothes. She didn't want to sleep just yet, however, she wanted to write a bit first. Just a teensy bit about her life and how it unfolded. She considered gussying it up a bit to make it seem more exciting then it really was, but she decided against it in the end.
Her day had passed pretty much uneventful, an average day at school, albeit a particularly slow one. Her few highlights of her academic hours past had been her free period, where she played (More like faillled D :) Starcraft with her friends, and lunch, when she played D&D with the same friends and more.
She hadn't bothered with her hair today, and even slacked on the clothing department, opting for a messy ponytail hidden under a hat, and an aging tank top hidden under a sweater. This was due in part to the fact that she had been up late the night before with her best friend, and in part to the fact that she assumed she wasn't going to see him today. She didn't like to admit it, but in the soft glow of her nightstand light, she felt like she could type it up.
She had seen him today however, first, as she entered her place of work. He was leaving with a few friends of theirs. Out searching for ways to make money and places to spend that money on. She expected that to be all she saw of him today, and hummed "A Kiss To Build A Dream On" to herself as she worked. She remarked that the only reason she knew the song was because it played in the opening and ending sequences of Fallout 2. In 1998 she had spent many a day watching her parents search out the fabled vault 13.
She saw him again when he showed up at her place of work, determined to sit out the hours until she was off.
"I don't get off for another two hours!" she said, sitting on a book stool, a book with a call number of 649.xxx was halfway to it's cataloged location, frozen in her hand.
"So?" He said. She laughed and offered to sign him into a computer.
When work was over, they both piled into her mother's car and back to her place, where they promptly lay down and fell asleep. They slept just long enough for him to miss his bus home.
Sitting with her laptop 20 minutes later, she reread her story, and didn't speak. She didn't like how the last lines would seem like an outright lie to anyone who didn't know her. Despite the fact that they were impeccably true and also completely plausible. She figured that people reading would think that she had inserted "sleeping" as substitute for something much more explicit. She smirked and shook her head. Sleeping is awesome.
She thought also that she should mention her best friend, who she had shared kraft dinner and perogies with today. Her best friend who recently said something out loud that She herself was never strong enough to admit when she was in a similar situation. She smiled and mimed holding up a glass in toasting motion. "A toast!" she thought "To Harold Q Poppinjay, My best friend and a strong person."
She realized that neither person mentioned in this blog would read it, and she was okay with that. She was ready to sleep.
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