9:00 AM: The number three smells like oranges

The origin of this entry's title, I will discuss in time. It's been a few noteworthy days and I'm trying to decide what seems most natural to begin with.

I guess it makes most sense to start with Thursday. Why bury the lead? There was, after all, a shooting at Osgoode station.

Of course, I did not know this. It's hard enough to get me to go to school on Thursdays (this was my first one all semester, as it's well known I had no class on Thursdays all year) and when I got to Union station I was told to board the train going in the other direction, as the TTC was shut down between Union and St. George. So I rode the subway all the way up to Bloor, then crossed back to St. G. No big deal. I had to go buy my History Textbook and as a result of my dilly-dallying (or whatever) I missed out on my first tutorial for that class. My loss, I suppose.

I didn't know, by the way, that there had necessarily been a shooting at Osgoode. All I heard was that something had happened somewhere along the line. When you are in the thick of a crisis, it is not easy to get information. Also, I did not think to ask the cops, because they were busy directing traffic.

Anyway, I got to class and got on with my life. Thursday was all told a relatively boring day apart from that running-around. Today was not terribly interesting beyond an odd incident at the beginning of it. I had spent the prior evening fretting the beginning of tutorials, which are due to be big presentations I'm not yet prepared for (depending on what play I present on, it'll either be very soon or not - I haven't decided and the clock is ticking.) Well, I went to the place I thought the tutorial was, and waited, and when the prior class let out, Claire walked out the door and smiled and said "What are you doing here?" I felt puzzled for a moment but the pieces started to fit together. Tutorials begin next week, and I slightly embarrassed myself. But for whatever reason, I was upbeat for the rest of the day, Claire even acknowledged it.

It was likely the weather. Until the late afternoon it was quite a nice day, bright and mild, with a sweet sense of early spring in the air. It happens sometimes, that fake spring smell in the dead of January. And when it does, it's quite a pick-me-up. The rest of the day was quite nice, if you like slush.

Really, the money day was Wednesday. A week earlier, I had seen my old friend (from last year) Jasmin walking down the street, or at least glimpsed someone I thought was her. Quickly I texted her to alert her I'd seen her (we're usually on the same campus and yet we never see one another) and we tried to make an arrangement, but by the time we were rolling she was on her way home. Plans were made to meet up after her class at 2 and just kind of hang around for a few hours.

We first went to a Second Cup at Spadina and Bloor, then wandered around a while in the residential backroads, avoiding the perilous pedestrian public. We talked on and on at length about numerous topics, some personal, some societal, some nonsensical. It was good, I was bright and funny and all those other traits it sometimes seems hard to coax out of myself. Some days I've got it.

Anyway, one of the things she was tlaking about were her classes, such as behavioural psych where she learned about synesthesia, a condition that causes the brain to confuses senses, giving sounds taste and words colour, "Oh, like the number three always tastes like oranges?" I said. Exactly. I'd actually heard of this before, and mused that it would be a more interesting way of living... for a little while, but it would get old.

Later that night I went to American Lit and watched a Streetcar Named Desire. Lamentably, having class at this time means constantly missing Lost. I have it on B's DVR and have yet to watch it. I think I'll go the remainder of the semester watching on CTV.ca.

My friend Haasim has revamped his blog, formerly the Canadian Geek, to The Angriest Boy in the World. Haasim always had a surly side, though I would hardly call him the "angriest." And while he always had a more refined sense of righteous outrage than I or anyone else I know, his output on that blog is far more thoughtful than the title indicates. Still, he noted, and I'd agree to a point, that he'd outgrown the old name. He's very hard to pin down, and I just hope he keeps writing. He once invited me to contribute, but I lacked focus and motivation, weighed by my other commitments (most of which I still have and still neglect due to a lack of focus and commitment, including this very blog.)

I need to trim my fingernails. And also, to draw something.

Those dreaded "other thoughts" I never seem to get to are still around... obviously they have to do with it being a Friday night and me in front of my computer with my earbuds and a plate of saltines. I should move already.

Keep on rockin'
-Scott