pg1: You would not understand. This is not how I am.

Snow. Everywhere. Nothing but blindingly white snow, falling from the sky and piling on the ground.

Everybody at school, almost without exception, was pissed that today was not a snow day. Several people made references to that hurricane day we'd had a few years back, and how the Halton board were just getting us back for pussying out when there was clearly no real danger.

The snow continued to fall all day. The rumour is that tomorrow will be a snow day. I dunno, man.

Someday, the snow will melt. The Northern Hemisphere will once again tilt toward the sun, and the temperature will rise, and the snow will melt and the world will become green again. The air will feel cleaner, the roads will not be paved with salt. Life will be good again.

I'm feeling pretty profound at the moment. Now, I will segué from this profundity into more shallow thoughts.

What did I accomplish in February 2005? I did not finally capture the girl of my dreams. I did not even start on the comic I was supposed to be doing. I did manage to start my favourite new project, Metaworld, which everybody should be reading. I also managed to have a pretty awkward conversation with Randi a few weeks ago. Yeah, I didn't mention it here on this blog, but I might as well talk about it for a sec. On the 22nd, it was her birthday. And while we were going out, she was constantly asking me if I remembered when her birthday was, and I always proudly answered correctly. And I always figured that we wouldn't make it that long, and I was right but that's unimportant. I jsut thought it would be funny, or nice, or something, to drop her a line on that day and wish her a happy one. This resulted in her unblocking me from MSN. Oh, she didn't enact a conversation, but that was clearly in order, so I had to step up. We made the barest of bare minimum of conversation, the smallest of talk. "How's bowling?" "Good," "That's good." "You?" "Fine..." and then silence. It's a sure sign to me, if I ever needed one, that the moment has long passed.

I'm going to see Leanne from Bateman again on Friday at the Reach tournement. I hate myself for that. Sounds weird, doesn't it? Well it all adds up in my head. I can't do anything, and even if I could I'm-- well, I'd be too paralyzed with fear. All right, I know nobody out there who's reading this really wants to hear it, but that's what I'm writing, okay?

I was hoping I'd be talking to her, and I'd say "So, you know, this is the last time we'll probably ever see each other," and that it would net a positive reaction... knowhutamean? But not only is that a bizarre and unlikely scenario, I'm no good at plotting out conversations beforehand. Anyone who can is a svengali and is untrustworthy.

I'm not at all happy. Oh, I get along, I do fine, it ain't nothing I can't handle, but I ain't happy about anything.

I was intending to do my Writer's Craft homework at Lunch, but absent-mindedly I left my binder in English, so I was without the assignment. Emma came through and lent me a few sheets of paper, the poem (La Bella Dame Sans Merci, by Keats,) and gave me a general reminder of what the assignment was. I scribbled down 10 sentences worth of generic comments about the poem, and headed to class, not at all satisfied except that I at least had something.

Today in Writer's Craft I was reading American Gods (which is excellent,) and something happened in the book that moved me deeply, and my eyes began to water. Fuck, man! No shit this is a good book. Luckily, I was wearing my shades at the time and nobody caught it. Okay I guess the secret's out now. Then Guthrie, after looking over the "Belle Dame" papers, had me read mine out the class. Reluctantly, I did, and then he told me I had about 5 ideas, none being proven. Well, I took that in the context that I had, after all, written it rushedly and without much clue as to what I should be doing.

So we finished watching "A Civil Action" in Law today. Turns out they won, but didn't win. The legal system is just a fucked-up game of bluffing.

I found out last night, that for the 8 or so months that we've lived in this house, my Centrail Air vent in my room has been closed. I felt like a dunce, man! All this time, why it's been so fuckin' cold, and why it was roasting in the summer. So naturally, I opened it. Earlier this evening, when I went in there, it was so uncharacteristically warm in there I almost shat. Okay, I didn't almost shit, but that was my second choice of word - the first choice is a bit too racy, even for my own private blog. What if somebody actually reads this?

Hahaha. Fat chance.

So I'm all life sucks : blahhhhhh right now. Don't feel sorry for me, I just need to vent. As Mick sings, I can't get no satisfaction. I'm also lacking in "girlie action."

The title of this post comes from "Comfortably Numb" by Pink Floyd, a song I didn't realize I loved until a few days ago. I've been humming it all day.

Heather Graham is back on Scrubs... awesome.

I think this has been one of the most topic-spanning, soul-pouring-onto-keyboard entires I've done in a while.

On that note, I'll leave you pondering all the points I've addressed. And while you're pondering, why not stop by BlogSpot's new and improved "Comment" section, which now allows non-members to leave their name.

Keep on Rockin m'dears,
-Scotto