That's not 'gay'.

Some people lately have asked me how it was that I became so liberal. I grew up in an extremely conservative community, but have ended up so far left socially I wind up off the chart.

I know what it's like to have a gay best friend. To watch him get called 'faggot' day after day, and to feel how capable he is of love. I've seen how capable Ryan is of having a good relationship, of giving back to the community and his zest for life. To think that Ryan would ever want to take his own life because of the threats and misgivings of others, is the most horrendous and terrifying feeling. This is in light of the tragedies as of late within the  LGBTQ community.

I don't know what it's like to be teased because of my sexual orientation. I'm open enough with what I like and who I like and I have never had to defend myself against some of the things Ryan has had to. I cannot imagine losing him.

Ryan isn't just my gay friend. He's my best friend. I'd die for him.

Don't walk away with her

Oh, if I never had to fight for what I wanted; what if I never had to work to get to where I want to be;
I am sick of defending myself; sick of defining what it's like to be like this
love's such a personal, private emotion; sick of bearing it all in hopes to make it alright
but here I am again somehow, avoiding laughter, hiding from smiles
Why don't they just get someone else to pick on, and avoid the irony
of you, and me.
What if we never got along like this, or what if we weren't alike in every way.
What if I never thought about it at night
realizing you're never far away
Oh, if I never had to run away from what I loved; what if I never had to be ashamed of myself
What if you all just left us alone
standing forever, wondering if you could pick up on my clues
those lingering questions keep me up, 2am who do you love?
I wonder, until I float away; I just wanted to see you behind that door
asking what if our love is worth fighting for
This silence, just wanting to let it go; let go of everything that made me feel insignificant, inadequate.
I'm better than fucking adequate.
All we ever wanted was a place to live, a warm bed to lie in, and a roof over our heads.
No one ever thought it would be like this; God knows it can't end like this.

Let’s not become Last Chance U.

Wilfrid Laurier University’s reputation has been debatable for some time now. Last Friday at the Faculty of Arts Council meeting, the thunder was brought down upon this entire debate. The proposition? Raise the admissions average for incoming arts majors. The reputation of the school was undoubtedly on the brink of becoming “Last Chance U” or worse than “If you can walk and talk you can go to Brock”. While my friends at Brock could immediately disagree with their reputation, there’s little to argue against what the harm a bad rep can make on a school and its admissions.

As a university, Laurier wants to attract top students; the brains and innovators, the leaders and creators; but without a great reputation for Canadian ‘excellence’ Laurier simply would become as a school a `B-‘. This is due to the admissions average of 2011 hanging out at a meagre 73 per cent. While high school grades are arguably already well-inflated, a 73 per cent in high school is considered well below what other schools demand. McGill University requires an 86.8 per cent for admission to Arts programs, which while Western, considered a good comparison to Laurier, requires low 80s.

All of these figures inherently say something about a school’s reputation. While the best and brightest among us may not have received these outstanding 90+ per cent grades in high school, and extra-curriculars in high school should be considered, these standards are primarily indicative of a school’s prestige. Schools in the United States rely on the Standardized Admissions Test (SAT) to determine a student’s capabilities and is weighted heavily in admissions considerations.

The obvious problem with talking about admissions averages restoring the reputation of Laurier is that faculty budgets and funding are based largely in part upon the number of students we admit. While a couple of weeks ago it was reported in The Cord, and confirmed at the council meeting that Arts admissions have gone down about 10 per cent, leaving already starving departments meagre amounts of funding. We need to admit more students, but we need to do it without lowering our admissions average to the point where Laurier is considered the last choice. We also can’t lose any more funding.

So then, my proposition, although laughed at by many a faculty member and worried staff, is to raise the admissions average to 78 per cent. Because the amount of students with an 80 dramatically increases before tailing off at 90, according to a report by Alan Slavin, and the amount of Ontario Scholars (students with an 80 per cent or higher upon graduation) increases every year, Laurier could benefit from ‘jacking’ the average up. By raising the admissions average we would be picking from an entirely different pool of students, snatching up those who would otherwise have chosen Western or Queens.

It would lower the stress on administrators and advisors who are responsible for assisting the students, who once admitted, fail out or scrape by in first year. Drop-outs would likely tailor off, creating stable funding and budgeting, and ideally a school more students would transfer to instead of from.

While funding is always a concern, the amount of students declining offers from Laurier would likely decrease as our reputation albeit slowly returns to being a quality school. More students would want to come here because as a school we no longer ‘fill space’. Professors would have fewer masses of students who require extra help on the material; TAs would enjoy marking papers that aren’t flooded with spelling and grammar errors. 

There are really many pros to raising the minimum entrance admission average. It would even help current students out, by providing some kick to the devalued arts degree, or giving that extra underline on a grad school application. We can promote Laurier all we want, and provide some of the best programs and professors in the country, but with a crap reputation we might as well be handing out degrees and become a revolving door of half-wits. But whatever students come in with, that doesn’t mean they’ll fail or that they’re incapable; I was one such student who didn’t get 90s in high school. The day I got into Laurier I thought it was a joke, because I didn’t think my grades were good enough. Point being: we need to be back at that point again. This was almost four years ago, and although there are always great bright students who turn on all the engines and graduate successfully, there are too many who are not on track to do so. 

Perfect love story

It's time to find solace after all this pain, as the lights go out
and butterflies begin to wilt in the evening cold, as the cold seeps in
we start our drifting, to this lullaby

Life is chaos, embrace it. These things will haunt you forever
and when winter lights your house with numb calm
as you fall away to the grip of cold dawn
I start my thinking, all day and all night

Absorbed the inventions, the toxins, the informations
just when I thought my heart was free at last
you pin it down like a broken wing, and as we tumble
further and closer to the ground
My heart starts beating louder

I have never felt so cold and alive, so loud and so clear
secrets, promises, and left out addictions
I never knew how to feel like this
silence and solace in the smoke of the night
I've been on the brink, so
just come and save me now

Haunted

I watch in horror, as I anticipate; the falling, the fleeting
the breaking of hearts as they slip and fall to the floor
crashing in a circular motion, casting shards everywhere
Nothing feels quite as bad, as good as this
Lean closer, breathe in this cold air
paralyse me, and I'll take it all in

Now I'm crumbling, cascading into a fog
can you hear me screaming? crying for attention
because it's all I have, to identify with life
Nothing feels quite as good as you

Speak the truth or lie and cheat

My eyes follow you, and yours mine. I race them across the room, to the exact spot where we meet. I hastily look away, and you do the same to me. Is it because I feel you, feeling me, through those eyes?

It is because we both know exactly what's going on here, is it? It's nothing to be upset about, the only thing that we should be upset about is that our beds share a wall and someone we're pretending to act like brother and sister. We're not. We're two adults, and I know deep inside of you there's an understanding. An understanding of what we both want, and we both want it more than anything.

I'm such a very 'complex' person in that I'm not complex at all. I'm predictable. I have my issues, and I don't pretend to hide them. I'm up front about this. I think about you all the time.

It's kinda awful when I think about it. What if this is all a figment of my imagination, that you just have some issues with respecting women so you can't look me in the eyes. I just know some moment we'll linger and things will just happen. But if it's not how you feel, then I'm caught up in a blissful state of contentment, so don't ruin it. Just don't let it get harboured into an evil craze that eventually results in attempted suicide or unipolar depression.

Not that I'd ever do that.

I time my nights around you now, from eating dinner to having unlimited free time from 8:30pm-1am. I would never normally do something like that, but I guess your novelty hasn't worn off. But it's hard to, because you're too much like my father. Someone, who I haven't seen in 2 years and was always the apple of my eye. But not in a sick way, oh no. I'm not Electra. I'm just a kid who idealized her dad, to the point where his alcoholism and commitment issues just faded away. Which is great, as a coping mechanism, but now I'm getting off track. You're like my Dad, and not only that, but a guy my dad would approve of. You have similar ideals and intelligence to him, and you're sure as hell not bad looking. It's haunting me even now.

So as I type away on this sort-of loud keyboard, blasting Space Dementia and pulling tight poppers, I'll think of what I might never have. What I should never have, but somehow in all the chaos, got.

Save me.

Distinctions

It's a hard distinction to make between what you want and what you have. It's a harder distinction to make when your heart yearns for one and not the other. Your heart is the most fickle thing in your life, that's the unfortunate truth. It's hard to believe that you can love someone one day and ten years hate them, but we're never the same people. Like heraclitus' river, we're all a little different every time.

So are you, and so am I, and that's why this concerns me. That's why I'm working on distinctions, pro/con charts and chats with semi-close friends who don't know me well enough to know better and don't know you well enough to say something. These are the friends whom I rely on for my emotional granite. I'm otherwise a weak, pathetic being that needs constant reassurance.

I hope for your sake you may never have to find that out. But then again, I'm staying up late, thinking and worrying about that last interview I need to get done tomorrow. Worried about how I'm going to afford my hot yoga pass this fall. First world bullshit. Stupid forehead acne caused by excessive drinking. Lack of sleep caused by increased caffeine intake. Increased caffeine intake caused by lack of appetite.. and vice versa.

So once you pull the thorns out it's not so bad, and it's always worth it to not let that fucker fester. So pull the thorn out, and tell them how you feel. Because you're always a ctrl-alt-del away.