Today, I saw something weird. It was just something small, but it was early in the morning and it really woke me up to the world.

Today is recycling day in our "quartier," so all the greenboxes are out, and I always have fun peeking in them on the way to school to get a glimpse of people's lives. Some households drink lots of alcohol, some read the newspaper a lot, some obviously buy all organic and health-foodish stuff. But today, I saw a giant shiny box that said "Electric Guitar," and had a life-sized picture of the guitar on it.

I just had to stop and laugh! Of course, every electric guitar was new at some point, and every rock n roller had to learn his/her first 3 chords at some point ... but the thought of that "new beginning" just cracked me up:

 "Hi, welcome to Wal-Mart. Can I help you find anything you need?"
"Why, yes. I'm looking for the electric guitar section."
"Right this way, Ma'am. Aisle 12."
"Thank you."
"Could I also interest you in some flame decals, aisle 13?"
"Not today, thanks."

Anyway, seeing that in the recycling bin made my day. Somebody buying a brand new (very cheesy blue and white) electric guitar in a flashy box that says "ELECTRIC GUITAR" in big bold letters means something: it means that anything is possible.

Even choosing a dissertation topic.

Yes, someone might stop and laugh at me one day, and think "Aw, how cute. She picked that cheesy blue & white dissertation topic from Wal-Mart." But I'll have the last laugh when I really make that puppy wail.

An oooooooooooooooooold friend just emailed out of the blue, saying, "I still exist."

That's what this post is about, really.

I was away all summer, in the Internet-less and peaceful boonies, but I'm back. Kind of.

I'm starting the 2nd year of my PhD and am supposed to be: launching into my comps; attacking Hebrew and German like I'm about to be plunked down in either ancient Israel or modern Germany any second without a dictionary; and keeping my intellectual eyes and ears wide open for that elusive "dream dissertation topic."

The problem is, I'm not really here. I mean, yes, "I still exist." I am showing up for the courses I T.A./take (albeit always late), and my name is there on the various September sign-up sheets: co-president of this, co-editor of that, liason for this, volunteer for that. I am also somehow paying my rent, which means I definitely exist in the eyes of the student loans people and the blessed souls who pay for my RA-ship and TA-ship!

But ..... I've never cared less. (Warning: here comes a cliche.) "I left my heart in" the peaceful boonies, where I waitressed all summer, wilderness camping with hippies and sleeping on the beach on nights off. No, really. Like, my HEART isn't here inside me. It's there. Furthermore, there is a 2-acre piece of land in Albert County that is surrounded by forest, overlooks the Bay of Fundy in the hilly distance, and is covered not only in raspberry bushes and hardwood, but in bear and moose tracks. And it's 6000 dollars or best offer. It's all I can think about! Waitressing with the hippies in the quirky vegetarian restaurant that has been the closest thing to a religion I've had since "The Big Disillusioned Atheism Phase," and living in the New-Brunswick woods.

If you still don't believe something changed over the summer, then would you LOOK AT THE USE OF SENTENCE FRAGMENTS SO FAR IN THIS POST!!! And I'm not even THINKING about changing them! (See? For the love of Jehosophat! I am beginning sentences with "and" and "but"!)

True to this blog's persona, though, I am at least still nerdy enough to theorize about this situtation. Here are the hypotheses so far:

#1: I have "fear of failure" and/or "fear of success" at this difficult (finished coursework) juncture in my PhD and am having escapist fantasies.
#2: I'm really not cut out for grad school and have been denying my true inner nature (which happens to be a flaky hippie waitress).
#3: It's because I have a crush on somebody back at the restaurant and am suffering from the typical chemical/temporary distraction that comes with the disease of "falling in love" and it will go away.
#4: I AM cut out for grad school, but have chosen a university that usually tends not to lean toward attracting your flaky hippie, which I didn't know I was (at least not to what extent) until this summer and now I'm noticing the friction between two worldviews.
#5: I smoked too much pot with the flaky hippies, and that anti-pot-propaganda about side effects including lethargy and apathy and "dropping out of the system" is TRUE!!!!!!

True to my grad school training, though, I tend to think the answer involves not one option, but rather the complex inter-relation of all of the above.

Existing in limbo,
Dr. Weezie
B.A. camping/canoeing
M.A. fair-trade organic espresso-based beverages
PhD (candidate) balance/wholeness

When I was teaching ESL in South Korea, I got to learn a little Korean - just enough for restaurants, taxis, and small-talk. However, I got to learn a LOT of "Konglish." Konglish refers to words and phrases that fuse English and Korean and are correct in neither language. One such construction is: "A? B? Same-same."

For instance, I got to hear this at least once a week: "Teacher! You? Sandra Bullock? Same-same!" (Yes, much to my suprise and flattery, Koreans had an awfully hard time telling us whiteys - or, to use their term, "big-noses" - apart.) My hubby often heard, "Teacher! You? Tom Cruise? Same-same!" or (more frequently) "You? Jim Carrey? Same-same!" Some of the foreign teachers in Korea used this to their advantage on trips to Seoul, pretending to be the celebrity in question, and using their "fame" to obtain dates, free dinners, and other undeserved favours.

All this is to introduce my impression of recent news headlines. I can best describe the way Stephen Harper uses the mainstream media (and the way the mainstream media spins Stephen Harper) using Konglish:

Stephen Harper? George W. Bush? Same-same!

Canadians are being groomed toward righteous indignation toward a demonized and "dangerous" Iran. We are being groomed not only to approve a full-blown attack on Iran, but to demand it (and think it was our own idea).

Iran? Iraq? Same-same.

Me no likey.

This May, as we celebrate Mother's Day, let us refuse the false offerings. There is an urgent need to protest U.S. duplicity and complicity in this sorry web of atrocities that endangers the lives of our children. As mothers, we have the awesome right and responsibility to firmly say no to the life-destroying ethos that has hijacked our future and to demand that nurturing become a national and global priority. Indeed, it is our matriotic duty.

Lucinda Marshall is a feminist artist, writer, and activist. She is the founder and co-moderator of the Feminist Peace Network. The Virago Series, her work about female images can be seen at http://www.artmamagallery.com/ViragoIntro.htm. Most importantly, she says, she is the mother of 2 wonderful sons, and the daughter of a wonderful mother. This essay is dedicated to them.