A: She's afraid of the bees

You know what's hard? Writing a choose-your-own-adventure book.

I shouldn't even be broaching this topic. I should be all focused and stressed out and everything, but instead I choose to distract myself through any means possible. Today I had an idea for a Choose-your-own-adventure style story (which I'm calling "Choice & Fate," because CYOA is actually copyrighted.) just to write as an exercise. After laying out the various plot threads I wanted to occur, I realized how intricate it had to be. My concept is actually slightly moreso, because in conception, it has the potential to be one of six different scenarios (hence, I see it as more of a website project than as an actual book) with two getting a more privileged treatment.

Yes, I'm bad. Not a bad person, but I'm a bad student. I'm a prisoner of my own sloth. Some of the blame falls on my TA's for telling me how bad my prospectus/manifest/sneak previews were. Then again, that really just splashes back on me for making them bad in the first place. Anyway, this ordeal has done its part to kill my motivation, which wasn't that high to begin with, and now I just want to write a choose your own adventure story.

I am incapable of doing things I am supposed to do, aren't I?

Nondescript weekend. Watched DVD's, hung out with self, and Amanda as usual. Thank goodness for her because otherwise I'd flat out have no human interaction (real human interaction anyway.) Today was one of those many days when I got all somber about having nobody to talk to while conversations raged all around. I met this girl in the library last week (I'm always meeting girls but never feel capable of doing more than that) and she was in my Canadian Lit class, so today I was mysteriously in the same row as her (or maybe I'm just that good of a stalker. Well, she told me she always sat in the back, and there I was.) She saw me, gave this... pleasant look of recognition? I don't know how to describe it much less interpret it. There was a time when I saw potential in every girl who looked at me. These days I just see dead ends. Maybe I'll talk to her again a few times, maybe Facebook, maybe not. (Not that I need to point this out, but she's cute.) I told Amanda over the weekend that my current philosophy is that everyone eventually meets someone, except me. I'm willing to be proven wrong, and not by the fact that lots of people don't meet anyone. That's not comforting.

It's not for lack of trying. My forays into the world of online meeting are decently chronicled. I've met a number of nice girls (and one very naughty one.) Some with potential, except for geography. Something weird happened late last week, which is that two attractive, interesting girls sought me out, which has never happened. My previous experience was that the types of girls who seek me out have few other options. Okay, admittedly, one of these girls is in a wheelchair, but she seems cool. The other one, maybe a bit of a hippie, but still cool. And then there's the one in Oakville, very cool, yet always working.

Well, I suck at meeting people online and I suck at meeting them in person, except at parties where I am awesome at it. I liked the atmosphere of Sheridan where it was possible to get to know people, even if not everyone I got to know there was, um, my best friend. Per se. It was just easier, you know? More comfortable.

I do this to myself.

...more later. Someday. Keep on rockin'
-Scott