september 8, 2000. "Someone explain to me why the Canadian Alliance is so dead set against abortion while simultaneously espousing fiscal restraint and rollbacks to social programs and arts funding. It seems terribly contradictory. Everybody knows that unwanted children born into broken homes and poverty only grow up to be criminals (without an education) or leftists & artists (with an education)....on the theme of fiscal restraint and arts funding, what does an abortion cost to taxpayers? Three or four hundred dollars? A Canada Council arts grant down the road costs at least $5 000 and as much as $15 000....It goes without saying that many of those unwanted children must grow up on welfare while the nation's grooming them for careers in crime or the arts." - from yesterday's Globe & Mail letters column We're going to get a subscription to the Globe & Mail in a few days. The Boy resisted at first, but when I explained that it was recommended by a professor - that it had a scholarly purpose and wasn't just a way to return to the Big Smoke (geographical absenteeism, if you will) - he was quickly won over. The Boy is greatly in favour of morning papers, coffee & me, or so he likes to say. I don't doubt it. We bought a copy of the paper yesterday to get subscription information, and I've been over the damn thing like a fungus. I actually feel smarter having read it, though I realize that I'm merely becoming better educated in the privileged white point of view. Yet sometimes that's the best point of view to watch, because you can model your responses to the establishment by discovering what is most vulnerable to counter-culture attack. Or maybe I'm just another white imperialist. You decide. You may have noticed the skimpiness of yesterday's entry. I've mentioned before that I've been sneezing & blowing my nose regularly since I got hitched - well, yesterday all the late nights & early mornings & stress of acting like a professional in a decidedly unprofessional setting knocked me down. I was asleep by nine, and since I didn't have class today, I stayed abed almost 12 hours. I still feel like crap, though. My head's all achey & tender and my stomach - although retaining vital nutrients - isn't too happy with anything lately. I took a 3 hour nap this afternoon and didn't leave the house for any reason, yet I still feel like pounded crap. The Boy is worried. We've agreed that if I feel this bad at the end of next week, I'll see the campus doctorb (the 'b' is for cheap birth control!). I think part of the problem is his love & concern, actually. No one's ever paid this much attention to me over so many days, and I think transient and inconsequential things unduly worry him. For instance, my stomach's always been delicate, it's just that no one's ever remarked upon this. I find that the increasingly vegetarian nature of my diet helps a lot (this is good, 'coz if the Boy doesn't find work soon, we won't be able to afford meat.) Anyhoo. I'm lucky that I have my own place. There's nothing less fun than being sick in residence, especially one in the throes of frosh week aftermath. It's not really anyone's fault; those kids are away from home & they want to party. All I want to do is feel reasonably human. At least here I can wallow in misery to my heart's content, and not feel old because it's Friday night & the thought of clubs just makes me want to go back to bed.