Five: That thing is a terrible waste to mind.

Umm.......

How do I even begin?

I guess I oughtta start at the beginning. Better yet, I might as well start before the beginning. See, for the past week or so, I've been having these incredibly vivid, almost lucid, dreams. One combined the subject of finishing the movie with some angst over my (nonexistant) sex-life, and a feeling of nostalgia over how far my life has advanced in the last 4, 5, 6 years. Another was this bizarre search for a Christmas gift for my mom (?!) featuring a cast of people from White Oaks, many of whom I may never see again. I often find it rather unsettling when my dreams are so intense that I remember them, because it usually means I'm just not putting out enough creative output. I have happy, unmemorable dreams when I'm writing.

Last night, for obvious reasons, I hardly slept. And when I did manage to get a wink, it was a difficult-to-manage, tossing-and-turning type sleep. The type where you're not surprised when you awaken in a cold sweat.

And sweat I did at 6:55 when my alarm went off. God only knows why I set it so early. Class didn't begin until 9, and I was there in much good time.

So I guess that's what everybody will want to know. How was it? Well, I'll tell you, my first teacher, Nathan (so weird using first names,) was a good guy. He had a good humour about him that put us newbies at ease. He pulled out some self-deprecating humour about how unfortunate it was that Print Production was our first exposure to Journalism, since this is the least pertinent example (to paraphrase) of what this program was about. Then he said something that really put me at ease: he reminded us that that particular course was only a 7-week course, not the full 14, which meant I'd get to sleep in Tuesdays after reading week. Then he broke it down as to what each of the 7 classes would be about, and then it really dawned on me... there are only 7 classes in that entire course, and this was one. Compare that to being in Guthrie's class 5 days a week for a comparable amount of weeks. This seems a lot easier. Funny enough, today my learning of the difference between "Serif" and "Sans Serif" in that class was the most exhilirating thing I've learned since Guthrie taught us of "object"s versus "subjective completion."

Immediately following that was Canadian History and Politics. Believe it or not, I actually do like history. I think that if you know enough history, you can have unlimited conversations for the rest of your life. But thinking on that class, which lasts 3 hours, I can only say this: have you ever heard that expression "bored to tears?" I didn't think it was possible, but my eyes were literally watering at one point from how bored I was. I was so bored, I actually came up with the idea for that last sentance in this psot, during that class.

Even so, I made it through (although not without experiencing significant hunger... I went more or less from 9-1:30 without food.) After coming home and watching one of the most revolting mfilms ever seen (review to grace Interneta soon) I headed back out to take care of some bureaucracy. See, it had been the first day, and I still hadn't gotten my laptop. Uh-oh. Well, I dealt with that, sat through their retarded propaganda/"let's talk to everyone like kindergarteners" training slideshow. Of course it'll break if you drop it. Of course you can't get it wet. I was half-expecting them to tell me not to feed it after midnight. But that would've been clever.

So I still hate my Mac. The only difference is that I now have a Mac to hate, instead of just abstractly hating the Mac I don't have, from a distance. I'm not going to magically turn into a Mac lover. They won't brainwash me. I survived River Oaks, and I'll survive this.

Nothing terrifically exciting happened. Just the usual new-school-year musings... just on a larger scale. I really don't feel like I have anything exciting to say, and yet I must report on this because hey... you weren't there.

And that may be the saddest part.

Oh how I wish you were here.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto