Random

Every now and then I like to make a post that makes you walk away saying, "Well, that was random." This is one of those times.

Yesterday during my group's rendition of One Flea Spare, (1.2 and 2.5--for those of you that are familiar with Naomi Wallace) Rohan spit in my face. He was supposed to miss. He missed the place he was aiming for (the floor) and the saliva caught me between my nose and upper lip. Everyone who didn't see what happened was convinced that my acting skills had just improved dramatically as I finished the extremely emotional scene on the brink of tears.

Gwynne Dyer is coming to UWO and I'm going to see him at all costs. The cost will likely be 2% of my participation mark in the class where I either get spit on or gaze at myself in a mirror, pretending to be the lesbian lover of Rohan--a gay man.

At least the cost isn't cash. Shane's on unemployment and I'm trying to save my death money. There's no one left to die to give me more inheritance if I can't pay my rent next year.

OSAP should look a little more seriously at the little girl--me.

I finished up Shane's red blanket in time for Valentine's Day and he forgot to take it back to Toronto with him. I didn't realize he left it until about two seconds ago.

I started Rory's blanket and it makes me laugh so very hard. It is a green and black starburst blanket. Rory tells me it is superb.

Jean is making an identical blanket but her starbursts will be orange. She keeps calling me to ask me how the pattern goes. It is SO simple. [Row a: ch 3 (counts as dc) 2 dc in next 2 dc, ch 1, (dc in next dc, ch 1) across to last 3 dc, 3 dc in las 3 dc. Row b: ch 3, 2 dc in next 2 dc, ch 1 (7 dc in next 7 st/sp, ch 1) across to last 3 dc, 3 dc in last 3 dc, etc.]

More than wanting to know the pattern she wanted to know why her starbursts didn't look the same as mine. My initial reaction was to tell her because hers are orange and mine are green. My second reaction was to tell her that I had no idea because I lost my ability to see things over the phone after the terrible boating accident of '89.

No, there was no terrible boating accident of '89.

No, there was no terrible boating accident at all.

It was a snowmobile accident, okay? I saw the tree, but no body told me the brakes didn't work.

The deadline for submission of applications for English 298E has been extended. I now have an extra week to get ulcers about applying for a creative writing class that I probably won't like anyway. If you still want to help me out with that one visit http://irisinexile.blogspot.com or ask me for the manuscriptI put together to hand in yesterday.

I was so ready to be a better person before I went to sleep last night. I convinced myself that I just need to buckle down a bit and everything would be okay. I packed gym clothes so that I could go to the pilates class and everything.

Hostile Wednesday hit and my resolution failed. Again.

Not only did I get spit on yesterday in Modern Drama, I had to feel up and kiss a stranger. Well, it was Shane, but not the Shane you think it is.

I am painfully aware of my feet right now.

My essay on Gulliver as a foolish Englishman and how his persona helps satirize the values of Great Britain as a whole in the 18th century is not going well. It's due tomorrow. I have all the books, a half decent outline and 4 pages written. But I can't make it long enough. I have never had the "not long enough" problem--only the "way way too long" problem. I am tired of thinking about Swift.

I am forcing myself to stay in the computer lab for as long as possible because if I leave I think I might make a run for it. And American Lit is really quite important.

I haven't finished As I Lay Dying yet. That's what we're supposed to be talking about in American Lit.

My mom reminded me 15 times before I left on Sunday that I needed to check the mail for her Valentine. It still hasn't come.

I actually have no solution to the sound of this pollution in me. Only more problems.

Monday morning on the bus instead of bursting into tears (like normal) I started laughing so hard because I was listening to Here is Gone and it reminded me of my first Goo Goo Dolls concert with Jenn, Jay, and Rebecca. The look was all for me.

If there were one person in the world right now that I would really want to talk to it would be Rebecca. I guess absence actually makes the heart grow fonder. I was pretty fond of her from the get go though.

Rory has decided that my dream job would be to type out interviews for newspapers from audio tapes. He based this decision on the fact that I am anal about putting two spaces between a period and the first letter of the next sentence.

Blogger always erases the second space. It drives me nuts.

Hillary is coming to London for the weekend. She is very excited. On Saturday she is going to make me dinner.

I have a psychology exam at 2 o'clock on Saturday afternoon.

I hate the world for hating me.

Try as I might, some days I am destined to lose every game of FreeCell that I play. Today appears to be one of those days.

The SDC is recruiting new volunteers for the Career Assistant Program. You could do what I do, only not quite as well. I am the sole returning Career Assistant out of the 13 volunteers that we had this year. That oughta tell you something about my perseverence--or everyone else's lack thereof. This will be my third year as a Career Assistant. They will never change my title though unless I'm enrolled in a program so that I can become an intern, or have graduated from a program so that I can be a counsellor.

My ability and tendency to trust anyone decreases more and more with each passing day. You've done nothing to counteract this phenomenon.

I sent a bunch of people ecards for Valentine's day. If you didn't get one, don't be offended because I was only sending them to people I was actually talking to at the time. I sent one to Dennis and he was so mad at me. But I got an email that says he opened it. I bet he loved it and now he feels horrible for treating me so cruelly. Actually, I mostly bet that he was drunk and didn't know what he was doing. And now he hates me a little more than he did the day before.

My plan is working.

Gilmore Girls might just be the best thing that ever happened to me.

On May 6th, Shane made plans to take me to the restaurant at the CN Tower. Convinced it was our 3 and a half year (plus two days so that it would be a Saturday) anniversary, he arranged everything a few weeks ago. He told me to keep the day free last weekend.

Shane never plans anything more than two minutes in advance.

May 6th is a month too early for a three and a half year celebration. Three years, five months, and two days seems like an odd occasion to plan something big.

After I pointed all of this out he started claiming it was all part of his master plan to divert my attention. Wow.

This entry just keeps getting longer and longer. But there was a specific something I wanted to say and now I can't remember what it was. So I just keep typing.

I am pretty sure I forgot to put deoderant on this morning and I'm paying for it now.

I am a question to the world. Not an answer to be heard. Or a moment, that's held in your arms.

Terri-Lynn and I have invented new slang. That's so feb of us.

It smells like kelbassa in here. I don't know why. At least its not making me hungry.

Damn, I just realized I haven't eaten anything yet. Coke won't sustain me forever, or will it?

Sometimes, the ability and drive to persevere is priceless. More often than not, worthless.

I'm going to go home tonight to try to find the name of the rhetorical scheme I just used there.

I lost my third FreeCell game in a row and I still can't remember what that everso pertinent point was.

Stay tuned for "Random: The Visual Version" with such entries as "This is my lamp. Dennis took a picture of it and then made it look more blue. I don't understand how he did it. I don't think I care. But maybe I do." It will be all kinds of great fun. I was not the answer so forget you ever thought it was me. Whatta ya got to move you, darling? Please don't say spitting in my face.