All I can hear are songs my mother taught me.
I've decided to give myself a four day weekend. I'm pseudo-American so I deserve it.* Plus it's not that hard. All I have to do is not go to my one hour biochem lecture on Friday. This probably isn't the best idea but I was robbed out of my Canadian Thanksgiving so it's only fair.
Today I had an 11 hour school day on very little sleep. James is like my needy four month old baby. Everyday at 5am he wakes me up. We've worked out a routine. He meows (which sounds more like: mruh! mruh!), scratches the couch, and then sniffs my face to wake me up. Then when he knows I'm awake he'll either:
a) paw my 6x5 foot John K. Samson poster while standing on his hind legs, walk on my sternum to get to my nightstand to paw at the blind and give one loud mruh. This means I have to open my blind so he can look out the window and I can go back to sleep, or
b) stay in the living room mruh mruh-ing. This means I have to walk to the bathroom while he runs in front of me, to open the bathroom blind so he can look out and I can go back to sleep.
A picture of James because he is funny:
He likes to stand in front of the bathroom window
with his eyes closed and ears back because he can
smell the dirty Toronto air better that way.
Today, after I stayed for my entire first year Anthro class, I walked out of Con Hall to find at least ten cars of parents waiting outside to pick up their kids. Ok, I know you're 17 and therefor cannot drive yourself anywhere, but for the love of god, take the subway like everyone else! Maybe I am just jealous that they actually still live with their parents. It is like the part in Garden State when they're in the pool and Zach Braff talks about not having a home after you move out of your house and how you can only understand once you've actually done it. But then everything is ok because he finds home in Sam and then they hug in the bathtub while Such Great Heights Iron & Wine version played in the background.
(For reference, if you want to know what Con Hall is like, rent Mean Girls and pay attention to the math competition part.)
On the topic of school, I really dislike my geography (Environmental Management for Sustainable Development) teacher. I disliked her from the beginning but it increasingly grew when she:
a) thought the population of the world was 4 billion
b) said "oh yeah, 4 billion was the population last year," after we corrected her
c) told me that she wouldn't be in contact with the girl she let into our class to solicate an overseas program so I would have to get into contact with the girl and give her the sheet she passed around for everyone to write their email addresses on for more information.
What the fricken hell? You're the teacher. I'm just the person the sheet came to after it circulated around the class five times. Why should I have to do it? I could just not, but I will because I'm a nice person and wouldn't be able to live with myself if all those people who signed up on the sheet didn't get their information on the overseas program. I am serious. That is the only reason.
In other, more interesting news, John P. Sutton is playing bass for Gentlemen Reg now. Which, as you can imagine, makes me happy to no end. I couldn't stand thinking of JPS alone in Toronto, Weakerthans-less. Gentlemen Reg is releasing their cd at El Mo next Friday and I'm gonna try to go. It's near exams though so it will be hard.
*By pseudo-American I mean I speant the prime years of my childhood in New Hampshire. Not like, I support Bush and the US's corporate Walmart culture. Plus I'm native so I shouldn't believe in things like borders or countries. Wow, that sounded really elitist; not like being native has ever allowed anyone to be that.
posted + 2004-11-25 at 10:35 p.m.