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Oh my gods, you guys, it's -5! (-12 with the windchill). And it's supposed to get up to -2 (-8 with wind).
I.... I think I'm going to go outside for a while and frolic. After being stuck inside for a couple've weeks, and below -20 temperatures every day, this seems like something I really need. Gonna' soak up some sun, whoooo~!

And then I'll go to the Roastery to do some homework. Sigh. Need to finish parts 1 and 2 of Gulliver, as well as the entirety of Slash, for Tuesday. And lots of other work too. But it's not so bad.

I dropped French. Rather, I hadn't registered for it yet in the first place, so I'm just going to stop going. The thing is, I'm taking three masters courses, and I'm teaching, so another class on top of that - and a very difficult one, too - is just too much if I want to do well at all this year. I'm a masochist, but not that much of a masochist. So, I'm not going to do that any more. I guess I'll just try to learn French using Rosetta Stone.

Still not sure about the whole pills thing. But I've only been awake for about an hour and a half, so there is that. Need to lay out the pros and cons. Maybe I'll do that tonight. It's so frustrating, though. For a while, I felt so good. Then, wham. Oh, well.

I want to do up a batch of Kitchensink Clusterfucks this weekend, but I don't have the time, and I don't have half of the materials either. I think that one will have to wait until Reading Week.

[edit 12:15 PM]

One thing that has been bothering me recently and not-so-recently is family history. I wish it was okay for me to ask about it. About who my relations are. About what we have done and where we come from and everything. Can I be proud of my family if I don't know my family? I don't know.
When I went to the psychiatrist, I was asked if there was anything relating to mental illness in my family history, and I said, "I don't know. There might be, but I don't know because we do not talk about it." We do not talk about these things. It is not okay to talk about these things.
I understand that we wouldn't talk about that sort of thing. I understand that it is not good, that we do not discuss it, that it is seen as something dishonourable, something to be ashamed of.
But what about anything else? Why don't we talk about anything else? Why can't I ask? Is our family so dishonourable that we can't talk about it at all? What was done that was so horrible?
I had been led to believe that my family (on my mother's side, at least) was very homogeneous. Her father was a Scot (from Scotland) and her mother, my grandmother, was Canadian, but born of Italian parents. But in the past few years, it's all kind of dissolved, and I find that even the locations are not as clean cut as I originally thought. They were from Italy, but at the time that part of Italy belonged to Austria. Okay. That makes sense. But then I was told that my great grandmother was from Poland, not Italy. And then again, late last year, I was told that no, she wasn't Italian or Polish or Austrian, she was Ukranian.
So where was she from? Why was I told she was Italian when she was not? And where does Poland fit in? Why won't they tell me?
And then I was told that one of my relatives died at Auschwitz, but I was not told his name, or how exactly I was related to this man, or why he was there, or anything at all. And my mother chose the absolute worst time to say it, too.
And I know even less about my father's side of the family. Those ones, they seem normal, but my mother goes on and on about them as if I should be ashamed of that part of my family.
But she won't tell me anything about her relations at all, and keeps everything in secret, as if they are a part of me that I should be ashamed of, too.
Even the relatives I did know - my grandmother, my great grandmother (the one who was supposedly Italian, then apparently Polish, and is now Ukranian). I met them, I knew them for years, but I don't know anything about them at all, nothing of their character or their past or the men they married or the relatives my great granny left behind when she came to Canada.
And I can't look for the answers, because my mother threw away all the letters, and I am not allowed to ask about these things.
How can I be proud of my self and my family when they act as if I should be ashamed of our history?

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Yuu. Fic writer & book lover. M/Canada.
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