I Just Fixed My First Ever Door

I've never been one to indulge in a lot of manly handiwork.

But I am proud that I have just fixed a door.

It was one of those folding-style ones that probably dates from sometime between 1943 and 1968. It didn't take a lot of effort, but I do feel abundantly practical--almost even useful, if not quite. In amongst a long month of not much, that is definitely something to think about.

I promise this isn't simply filler content. Really. See the post on Chai tea.

Comments on CBC's Omar Khadr Stories Should Be Pre-Moderated

The CBC has almost always allowed open comments on their online news site, cbc.ca.

In most cases, this makes sense. Open comments sometimes bring out depressing elements of society content to hide behind anonymity, but as Canada's leading journalistic institution CBC has a mandate to allow open and free discussion on its comments page.

The site occasionally closes comments, usually in stories about court cases, particularly when young offenders are involved. This decision makes a lot of ethical sense, but it also covers a media institution's liabilities.

It's curious, then, that in the case of Omar Khadr, the CBC has, for the most part, continued to allow open commenting. This is a mistake. The comment circus takes away from CBC's reasonably solid journalism on the story, obscuring the facts and research with vitriol and hate.

Spinning the Middle

I'm writing this post at the end of the middle.

Mostly, I'm waiting for 360-odd pages to print out, which involves a tedious amount of aligning, cartridging, configuring, and patience.

But it will pay off--I'll be able to edit my work over the weekend.

For the past nine months, I've been in the middle. I started in late January at the end of the beginning and here I am at the beginning of the end. The in-between has been a long, weary, trying adventure of getting from one abstract point in a project to another.

(To continue this extended metaphor: I get one measly page into the printing job and the printer chokes on my paper and makes a big gristly mess in the spool. Reset, retry.)

Revisions and Late '80s Pop Ballads

I spent an entire academic year this past school term in an advanced fiction-writing course. It gave me all sorts of ideas for blog posts, some of which I will likely even get around to posting at some point.

But for now, I'm going to leave those be. I don't want to derail what could otherwise be a useful evening by railing about the use or lack thereof of advanced writing workshops, nor the quality of "criticism" found within them.

I simply want to meditate briefly on the value of, say, Michael Bolton, as an antidote to trying to incorporate revisions that are increasingly inane.

Chai Tea

Apropos of nothing, I now quite like Chai tea.

I feel I need to blog about this. I'm on my second ever cup now and it's really quite good.

I had been sceptical of it. While I love the mysticism of it, I am at heart a British pragmatist. About three months ago I tried Earl Grey for the first time and the effect was really quite instantaneous. I converted quickly from Orange Pekoe. Chai took a little longer. I was tentative. It smelled good, but I messed the first cup last night up pretty badly and the aftertaste wasn't so good. The second cup tonight, though, seems to be an improvement.

Jury's still out on herbal. I'll have to try them eventually, just because. I don't drink coffee (see What Is This? for my usual line about that). There's something that fits my lifestyle about old-fashioned tea.

I keep a box of treasured Yorkshire tea in my cupboard, which I dip into on special occasions, difficult days, or particularly important writing nights. I still think that's my favourite, but a cup of Earl Grey--and now maybe Chai--does very well for a normal night.

Anyone else got any tea stories to tell? Are they better than this one? Good.