It clicks that this is for me, not you.
For a moment there I thought I needed to trim my finger nails, but it turned out to be just a false alarm. This week I hit what feels like my annual rock bottom. I'll be honest, I hope it is that, and not just the top of my annual slippery slope. One of the best methods I have of proving I've reached one of these two points is my mastery of mathematics. This week, speaking just in terms of time spent in class, I achieved only 12% of what I should, AKA about 2 out of 17 hours. Speaking in terms of classes attended out of total I am enrolled in this term, 8% is all I went to, AKA 1 out of 13. Okay that doesn't seem right, blame my computer calculator. I lied when I said I possessed a mastery of mathematics. Now it's not all that bad, as has been my tendency since I was a child, I've got a number of excuses that I think come close to getting me off the hook. First off, I should point out that four of the classes, equaling four hours, I won't be attending because I'll be out of the city. The first four classes, I missed due to illness. On Monday I was literally bedridden until about 5PM. It's funny earlier today I was trying to figure out if the term was 'bedridden' or 'bedstricken'. Anyway, at that point I would have been watching The Matrix, which I have seen, at least once. So I don't feel too bad about that once class. But the others that day I do feel bad about. I've got tests coming up in two of them, so missing a week of class can't have done me well. Then today I would have had pretty much the same schedule, minus a film viewing. But this morning, as luck would have it, my alarm clock didn't go off. I myself can't figure out why this had to happen. Though I know the volume was turned down, it's still strange because I always check the volume before I go to sleep. So by the time I woke up it was too late to make it to class. I was up for a bit on the computer, then as far as I remember I must have passed out on my bed. I had an interesting experience that I will take time to share. You know in movies when a character is asleep, and they wake up only to discover that they are in some sort of hellish reality, not at all what they had expected it to be, then they scream and wake up in a stir. Well I actually had one of those. It was actually quite an experience, and wasn't as funny as it is so often depicted. I remember getting up out of bed and stumbling around my room, at first confused by the noises outside. Then as my eyes became more focused, I started to notice that my room had been ransacked. I could go into further detail here, but I'll say that the dream was a direct reflection of my guilt over something I'd rather not talk about. So needless to say, I got my own message. Anyway, as my dream reached it's climax I guess I started to hyper-ventilate, and in my dream I could feel myself doing so as I slowly fell face first to the floor, where I was then further suffocated by the carpet (my blanket in real life I think). Then I burst back into consciousness, rather upset. I felt... disgusting. Never have I had such a poignant dream that accomplished what it apparently meant to. If you read this, and you remember, feel free to ask me about it. I won't tell you what was accomplished, but the reminder of it ought to help keep me awake, so to speak.
So where was I? Ah yes, embracing the me generation. So basically this week I've been bad. But you've got to wonder, just what has consumed the 80+% of time that I wasn't in class? I certainly wasn't reading or doing the work I should have been doing. So what then? Perhaps I've developed a crippling agoraphobia. Or perhaps I've finally lived into my own jokes and taken up some hardcore drug or another. Maybe I've gone and gotten myself involved in international espionage a la Gong Show host Chuck Barris. Yah Sam Rockwell is a cool guy. I guess I'll keep you guessing, or rather keep myself thinking that someone out there is guessing. Maybe it's comforting.
Tonight Tyler came home pretty drunk from the bar. I had my window open and could hear his hiccups from what very well might have been, a mile away. He wanted to go to Farah Foods to get some smokes, and I was going to go with him. The thing is that Farah Foods is over on the other side of town, near where we lived last year. Once I got outside I was struck by the most unfriendly weather I've seen in a long time. Other than the strong wind, it wasn't particularly harsh. But that, coupled with the very cold drizzle, it turned out to be rather nasty. Within a few minutes I had actually got brain freeze, just from walking against the wind. Not the nicest weather. A nice introduction to winter in Waterloo I'd say. Needless to say, we didn't make it to our destination. Tyler was all over the rode, which meant that by the time we had made it half way there, he'd pretty much walked the equivilant of the entire journey. We made it a little over half way, when he decided it would e best to turn back. He really didn't need cigarettes that bad. Neither did I. It was fun. And it woke me up.
It seems I've finally gotten Winamp to work the way I want to, and I'm finally loving it. Though it doesn't navigate as well as MediaPlayer, it still auto-organizes things in a way that I can track them down if I need to, and it's overall a better player. I'm already getting used to listening to everything on shuffle.
So on Sunday I sent myself an email. I had been going through the documents on my parents computer since they've allowed it to get too full, so I figured I'd clear out my mess for them. While doing so, I came across a surprising number of things I had attempted to write. I remembered each one and the idea behind it. They were all relatively good ideas, but none made it beyond two or three lines. If I had better habits, I would have been quite prolific. It shocked and came pretty close to inspiring me. On a side note I failed to correctly spell the word prolific on my film mid-term. It was embarrassing. But then my overall mark didn't help either. The email also contained a reminded to email a friend who is not well, which I eventually forced myself to do. I wrote about that friend here actually, some time ago, citing him as being a major influence on who I am today. Feel free to track back and figure out who he is, but if you do that can you also see if this time last year marked either a perceived 'rock-bottom' or the beginning of the end. Thanks.
I don't know why I'm so often met with hostility and denial when I point out to people that John Lennon was a filthy commie, using the lyrics to Imagine as evidence. Honestly. One time one guy stabbed me. Stabbed me and I died. Seriously though, I'm a filthy commie, so don't front. I could really get going on how much I am, but it's too late to get that impassioned. But fuck, marxism is so logical, what's wrong with us?
Tomorrow marks the beginning of a sort of vacation for me. Huge concert tomorrow. The next day promises three things. 1) Good times and friendly faces. 2) Inebriation to the point of stupidity. Sorry. 3) A huge potential for awkwardness, unhappy thoughts, and myself drunkenly spouting off at the mouth. For that I'm sorry in advance. The rest of the weekend is up for grabs really. Who the fuck is John K. Samson? Anyway, Saturday might be another concert, and sometime during the weekend I may be living out the commercial that first made Eric and I friends. Something about that makes me smile, but I'm not sure what considering the circumstances and the nature of that inside joke.
Kudos if you read that. But why?
So where was I? Ah yes, embracing the me generation. So basically this week I've been bad. But you've got to wonder, just what has consumed the 80+% of time that I wasn't in class? I certainly wasn't reading or doing the work I should have been doing. So what then? Perhaps I've developed a crippling agoraphobia. Or perhaps I've finally lived into my own jokes and taken up some hardcore drug or another. Maybe I've gone and gotten myself involved in international espionage a la Gong Show host Chuck Barris. Yah Sam Rockwell is a cool guy. I guess I'll keep you guessing, or rather keep myself thinking that someone out there is guessing. Maybe it's comforting.
Tonight Tyler came home pretty drunk from the bar. I had my window open and could hear his hiccups from what very well might have been, a mile away. He wanted to go to Farah Foods to get some smokes, and I was going to go with him. The thing is that Farah Foods is over on the other side of town, near where we lived last year. Once I got outside I was struck by the most unfriendly weather I've seen in a long time. Other than the strong wind, it wasn't particularly harsh. But that, coupled with the very cold drizzle, it turned out to be rather nasty. Within a few minutes I had actually got brain freeze, just from walking against the wind. Not the nicest weather. A nice introduction to winter in Waterloo I'd say. Needless to say, we didn't make it to our destination. Tyler was all over the rode, which meant that by the time we had made it half way there, he'd pretty much walked the equivilant of the entire journey. We made it a little over half way, when he decided it would e best to turn back. He really didn't need cigarettes that bad. Neither did I. It was fun. And it woke me up.
It seems I've finally gotten Winamp to work the way I want to, and I'm finally loving it. Though it doesn't navigate as well as MediaPlayer, it still auto-organizes things in a way that I can track them down if I need to, and it's overall a better player. I'm already getting used to listening to everything on shuffle.
So on Sunday I sent myself an email. I had been going through the documents on my parents computer since they've allowed it to get too full, so I figured I'd clear out my mess for them. While doing so, I came across a surprising number of things I had attempted to write. I remembered each one and the idea behind it. They were all relatively good ideas, but none made it beyond two or three lines. If I had better habits, I would have been quite prolific. It shocked and came pretty close to inspiring me. On a side note I failed to correctly spell the word prolific on my film mid-term. It was embarrassing. But then my overall mark didn't help either. The email also contained a reminded to email a friend who is not well, which I eventually forced myself to do. I wrote about that friend here actually, some time ago, citing him as being a major influence on who I am today. Feel free to track back and figure out who he is, but if you do that can you also see if this time last year marked either a perceived 'rock-bottom' or the beginning of the end. Thanks.
I don't know why I'm so often met with hostility and denial when I point out to people that John Lennon was a filthy commie, using the lyrics to Imagine as evidence. Honestly. One time one guy stabbed me. Stabbed me and I died. Seriously though, I'm a filthy commie, so don't front. I could really get going on how much I am, but it's too late to get that impassioned. But fuck, marxism is so logical, what's wrong with us?
Tomorrow marks the beginning of a sort of vacation for me. Huge concert tomorrow. The next day promises three things. 1) Good times and friendly faces. 2) Inebriation to the point of stupidity. Sorry. 3) A huge potential for awkwardness, unhappy thoughts, and myself drunkenly spouting off at the mouth. For that I'm sorry in advance. The rest of the weekend is up for grabs really. Who the fuck is John K. Samson? Anyway, Saturday might be another concert, and sometime during the weekend I may be living out the commercial that first made Eric and I friends. Something about that makes me smile, but I'm not sure what considering the circumstances and the nature of that inside joke.
Kudos if you read that. But why?