Part XV: Ennui you can use

I've been absent for a few days, which has been the trend for much of the last year but it's not for lack of trying.

The fact is, the past couple of days haven't been terribly interesting. I get up and go to school and you know, try to get through my days with some level of dignity and composure.

Tuesday's a total blank, for instance.

Yesterday, however, had a few interesting notes. It was Wednesday, so it was going to be a long day. I had my early-morning lectures. It was cold. In philosophy, we talked about Chisholm's defence of incompatibilism between determinism and moral responsibility. In english, Cobb lectured on sex a while (we are, after all, reading Foucault's History of Sexuality.) The place was notably more full than usual, possibly because people a) heard he was going to talk about sex, or b) realized it was a good way to get out of the cold.

Before Cinema studies, I ran into somebody I kinda know - we have a mutual acquaintence and the three of us often sit together but we don't usually talk. She was on crutches so I decided, well if there was ever an ice breaker, here it was. So we got to talking and she's about as nice as I figured.

Of all the people I've met/talked to since coming to U of T, I'd say 95% are women. Maybe it's partly that I take very female-oriented courses, like english and film study (plenty of guys in both though.) It could just be that I have such an overwhelmingly hetero instinct that I think somewhere deep down, if I keep introducing myself to women, one of them will be into me. I'm really quite bad at that aspect of things. No really. Terrible.

I can't even verbalize, actually, what a fuck-up I am sometimes. Which is a shame, since verbalizing is basically all I do. That was something of an unrelated tangent.

The film we watched was Persona, which is a terrific example of an art film and will be debated - on many levels of varying relevance - by all who saw it.

I went down to the bookstore to get the Foucault book before hustling down to Pratt to tinker on the computer before my next class. Ah, poetry. Apparently I had a piece due. It's written, too, but not knowing it was due I didn't print it out. That's life; I'm not alone in that, and Reiby is quite forgiving. The bulk of the class was concerned with a reading from a poet named Hines, first name Maureen (always wary what people are searching on google I am.) She read some, and we asked questions. My friend Jasmin asked a question that I was considering asking but Ms. Hines smiled and self-effacingly admitted she'd been dreading to hear it. When I later asked a question I admitted that I was relieved Jasmin stole my first one.

This was not the first time we've been on the same wavelength. Wasn't even the first time that day. We had a "jinx" moment. Don't think I haven't been overanalyzing that one. My usual fault.

After class, I found RyLai at the GO station. He pitched me an idea for next year, as it pertains to living. I was intrigued, but brought up some natural objections and possibilities. My counter-pitch was that he get a place, and I pitch in a certain amount for the privilage of crashing on his couch a few times a week, depending on what I need. The problem with that plan is that a) it makes me into a total vagrant and b) there exists an enormous possibility that I might leave him in the lurch which I seriously don't want to do.

We got to the station, I went over and had dinner and chilled out for the evening.

Today was my ideal day off. Ah, coffee, comics, Guitar Hero and a little bit of writing. I've come to terms with the fact that the last 6 months or so I have been mentally elsewhere, since saying it out loud on Monday, and am starting to come out of it.

I'm working at it.

Which reminds me I do have some things to take care of. Reading, reviewing... the usual stuff. I set about overhauling Interneta recently. It could be a while but I'm started on it.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott