Ryerson versus U of T - the ultimate university smack-down

I spend much of my time shuttling back and forth between Ryerson and U of T: I go to school at Ryerson, and spend much of my life sequestered in the hive of activity known as the magazine lab; I sing at Trinity College Chapel Choir(despite never having been a Trin student) at U of T, the place I did my music degree.

Never have I walked on to the U of T campus after having been at Ryerson without experiencing a palpable sense of relief - a loosening of the shoulders and an easing of the tight, constricted chest. I let out a low, slow, "ahhhh" every time I emerge from Museum subway station.

Why?

It's not just the warm fuzzies of familiarity; I'm as familiar with Ryerson as I'll ever be, and there are many areas of U of T I've never, ever seen, especially since I haven't been a student there in 10 years. And it's not just that I associate Ryerson with a harrowing, stress-filled workload and U of T with a comforting hobby, although that's part of it. They're both urban universities, smack in the middle of Toronto, with an ever-present ocean of students constantly breaking over the sidewalks and jay-walking across the congested streets.

Here's the thing, though: Ryerson is ugly. Butt ugly. Ugly, ugly, ugly.

For one thing, there's a reason Ryerson's long-standing pejorative nickname, "Rye High," has stuck to it like white on rice. Kerr Hall, one of the main buildings on campus, gives me flashbacks to my five miserable years at Northern Secondary every time I walk down its beige locker-lined halls. And at least Northern, with its mild, turn-of-the-century attempts at Collegiate Gothic, made some small concessions to ornament. Kerr Hall, built perhaps fifty years after Northern, abandoned any pretense of beauty and is, for the most part, drearily utilitarian.

The building housing the school of architecture is undoubtedly the ugliest on campus, all badly-stained reinforced concrete and opaque plastic cataracts pretending to be windows. The Rogers Communication Building, where I spend most of my time, is all exposed ductwork and hard, shiny surfaces. Not a soft, comfortable place to be found. Ryerson's architecture, for the most part, reflects the school's unfortunate reputation as a commuter school, as a place to get in, get the marks, and get the hell out. And why would anyone want to stay?

There isn't anywhere to sit.

Ryerson is woefully lacking in soft, comfortable places, where the din of students is hushed by carpet and upholstery. Not that I expect U of T's fireplaced lounges to suddenly, magically appear at Ryerson. But Queen's has a new library building, and IT has a fireplace. Maybe with all these architects and planners gleefully rubbing their hands at Ryerson's planning meetings, contemplating the spending of millions, will give a slight, shy nod to comfort.

To softness.

To beauty.

The blog is back...beware the blog!

The "When I was eight" post

Things that used to puzzle me when I was eight:

The phrase "The King is dead. Long live the King!" Sounded pretty ridiculous to me. Was he dead, or not?

Related to that, "God save the Queen." I could never figure out why she needed to be saved, but I figured she'd been in a shipwreck or something. Maybe kidnapped by pirates.

A poem I liked when I was eight:

My beard grown to my toes
I never wears no clothes
I wraps my hair
Around my bare
And down the road I goes

-Shel Silverstein

Songs I liked when I was eight:

"Jeepers, creepers" and "I'm Looking Over a Four-Leafed Clover" (Old songs from the 'thirties)
"Video Killed the Radio Star" (The Buggles)
All of Michael Jackson's "Thriller"
The Blue Jays' seventh-inning stretch song, "Okay Blue Jays (Let's Play Ball)." One wonders why it took them until the seventh inning to figure out what game they were playing
The theme song from "The Dukes of Hazzard"
"I Love Rocky Road" (Weird Al Yankovic). I don't think I understood the satire; I just liked the fact that it was about ice cream.
"Tell Her About It" and "Uptown Girl" (Billy Joel)
"the Love Cats" (The Cure). Again, I wasn't cool. I just liked cats.

Books I liked when I was eight:

The "Booky" canon by Bernice Thurman Hunter. Took place in 1930s Toronto, fairly close to where I grew up. I thought it was cool that I could recognise landmarks she wrote about.

"Abel's Island" by William Steig. Got me started on castaway stories, which led to "Island of the Blue Dolphins" by Scott O'Dell.

"Barbapapa at Work" by Annette Tison and Talus Taylor. Yes, these are the funny blobby things that can change shape. This book was particularly cool. Each member of the Barbapapa family had a different job; one was a pearl-fisher, one was a glazier, one was a carpenter, and still another was a lace maker. The French title, "Barbapapa Artisan" is probably more descriptive.