1.7: Wherever I lay my head

It's been a few days and while nothing has really happened, that rarely stops me from putting on my blog face. Whatever that means.

I slept in on Friday morning. I had so enjoyed my odyssey on Thursday, I supposed, that my legs had required an extra 40 minutes of sleep past my alarm. Or it's just possible I'd set it at too low a volume to work properly. Er, whoops. I woke up at 7:20, right on the cusp of too late and bolted through my morning routine, skipping my shower (feeling nasty) and ultimately grabbing coffee, as per addiction.

There were about 4 other people in my philosophy tutorial. I talked, as did the other guy I kinda know in that class Jake, as best I could about the mind-body connection and we specifically focussed the discussion on robots and whether they had the same consciousness as humans did. As with any philosophical conversation, we were inconclusive.

I then spent an hour going through whatever computer-flavoured routine I had in the hour between classes, and reading more of Devil in the White City, which I'm actually enjoying, and not in a reluctant way like previous books. In the tutorial, we talked about the unusually high number of comparisons and contrasts between two parties found within the book.

I ate my lunch after that, and then did something I haven't done since September... I did the reading for Cinema. I've made a vow to myself to refocus on my studies this semester and it starts with Film. We were set to get our midterms back at the end of the tutorial and I was extremely nervous. The class had proven itself a tough mark to win after the shot-by-shot and while I still have a healthy amount of confidence, a bad mark would surely shatter that which remains. As we discussed the need of technology to refresh itself, leading to two remakes of King Kong and Bazin's hypothetical approval of widescreen and colour, the class ended and we got our tests back. I told myself that something in the 60's would be good enough to prove a step up. I looked down at my sheet. 74.

All right, it's not an excellent mark, but the remarks she left were fair and it's not like I tanked any specific part. All I did wrong was fail to elaborate on some of my essay points, which she conceded were good starts. I was glad. A weight had been lifted, for sure. I walked to St. George with one of the girls I know in that class and we compared notes. She got something in the 80's, and I told her I was glad for her. In reality, it was a mixture of that and jealousy, but I've got a new determination here. 2008, I suspect, will be a big year, but it's only what you make it. Heed that.

It was a pretty relaxed evening until I got the call. Chris and Pat and I were finally going to settle the Risk game that began 6 days earlier on Saturday afternoon. It sat in Pat's basement that entire time. Around 9:30 they picked me up and we headed over, greeted by Pat's superhumanly affable parents. When I first arrived a week earlier, Pat's dad answered, smiled, and said "Hello Scott," despite the fact that I'd not met him before. "Everyone's already downstairs."

So on this day, we sat down for what seemed that it would be a short run. I was seriously backed into a corner in Europe and the guys had compiled massive empires. But then, funnily enough, I managed to hang on, or they turned their attentions away from me, and the game lasted until 3:00 AM while we finished watching How I Met Your Mother Season 1 and some of Season 2. Thinking the game might not be on much longer I suggested that, after we finished we could call CB up and get another one going. They were receptive but by 12:30 or so, it became apparent that was not happening and we were in for the long haul.

I got home before 3:30 and took care of some business before going to bed, but before I could fall asleep, I heard the door opening. It was Eric. He had gone out to some club with some friends and had just gotten in. He stumbled around, water poured all over the front of his shirt, vaguely alluding to the explanation. Curious as I was to hear how his night had gone, it was late and I was tired from a night of war.

I dreamt a strange dream. I can't recall the storyline, but involved a pinball machine, a fictional character I'd created, space invaders, a kidnapping plot, and my late Great-Grandfather. Eric speculated later that whenever a dead person appears in your dream they are trying to contact you... but he seemed pretty lost, which is a lot of how I remember him, so that's probably just a compilation of my own mind.

I got home and, somewhat delayed, met up with Amanda for coffee for the first time in many weeks. We caught up; she described her holidays and recent work experience to me, and I told her about my New Year and Joe's show. She has the same long-winded, easily-sidetracked way of telling stories I use, which may be because I've had an influence on her. Probably not though.

We did the usual shopping. We stopped in at HMV and I was glad to see Cooper back at work. We made small talk and he tried to convince me to take some CD's off his hands of hands of one of the Canadian Idol winners. I told him "You couldn't pay me to," and then grinned, knowing that at one point, he was indeed paying me. Sigh, those bygone days of winter 2006...

After a trip to Coles, we split because Amanda had some kind of hair appointment so I headed home. I did nothing the rest of the day, except that Eric and I watched Superbad, which I'd bought earlier that day (using an HMV gift card Amanda got me... she's a better friend than I am, but not that much more, she got it for free from work.)

Today was similarly inactive, mostly spent reading and playing GH3, the usual boredom-killers.

I'm indecisive. That's a fact (or is it? I haven't decided.) Women. In running down my life story, I think I've got that part pinned down. It's like, in the last 5 years, I haven't really seen a girl and said "Her." I usually just see a girl and say "Maybe her, or her, or..." there are any number of pretty, affable, interesting girls at school, for certain, maybe too many but with a limited supply my eye would still roam, until someone set me down and pointed to someone and said "her." It's a fear of rejection I think, always considering one's options. I can't go out on a limb at age 20 (and a half!) in 2008 because from 2001 until 2004 I went on the most extreme, melodramatic losing streak known to man. The flaw is you just want some magical moment where it becomes patently obvious to all involved that this is for real. The distressing thing is that I had one of those, too, and the deal got blown off. I'm very, very bad at that.

And that's the story. Maybe that should have been my New Year's resolution, but one step at a time. Truth, it's hard enough leaving the house in the morning.

Things are getting backed up again. No drive. Must keep self on track. Sink is full of dishes. Waugh.

Keep on rockin
Your remaining Scott