(A Random Post)

Thrown To The Wolves

Never Is Enough – Barenaked Ladies

As I type this, I’m currently having an msn conversation with Annia. This was necessitated by the fact that some confusion lead us to miss a scheduled Skype meeting on Thursday. It’s funny, because I was expecting her to be mad at me that I screwed up somehow so I immediately opened up by apologizing and assuming guilt. She wasn’t, though I’m sure she was annoyed that things didn’t go as planned. In the past I might have antagonized her and demanded to know whose fault it was, but it didn’t occur to me to act like that. No, we brushed the incident off and continued our chat. It’s amazing how easy it is to avoid confrontation when you genuinely cannot live without the person in question. My patience with her is infinite, not that I need that much.


My boss finally gave me a raise. To $8.45 an hour. That’s 70 cents, by the way. Son of a bitch. This is clearly a misguided attempt by him to get me to stay. I should thank him though. He’s finally given me something to walk away from. Before, leaving my job was a decision of little consequence. It was like telling myself to stop smashing my head against a wall for five hours a day. Now there is temptation. Now I can see a reason that leaving might not be a great idea. Now, more than ever, I know I’m making the right decision.

Fifteen days left.


Today was a day I’d been looking forward to for a while. The New College Student Council Frosh Week 2006 executives and I were having a meeting…at Woodbine Beach. Normally we stuff ourselves into this meeting room at the University of Toronto, but this time we decided to have a “Bonding Event” and what better way to do that than to run around in the sand for four hours while making awkward conversation? I’m kidding. It turned out to be a great time.

Due to an unfortunate case of can’t-get-my-ass-out-of-bed-itis, I was a little over an hour late. I felt bad because apparently there were a series of mini crises to deal with early on and I wasn’t around to help. At the least, I could have supplied them with an unending supply of witty comments. When I arrived, Michelle (who was organizing this particular event) was still coming down from her freak out and Julius (the Frosh Committee Chair) was in a pissy mood. After downing some sausages and tossing around the ol’ pigskin, Julius and I broke away from the pack to go and find a cake for Michelle. It was her birthday on Saturday.

A brief recap. We walked about ten minutes to his vehicle, which was parked far, far away. Then we drove for a while until we found a Loblaw’s and picked up a cake. Then we drove back and had to find a new spot, so we ended up parking in construction area. Probably unwise. Then we walked all the way back to the beach and gave Michelle the cake. I also bought her a book called How Animals Have Sex. She’s minoring in Zoology and that was enough justification for me. A couple of our friends were leaving, so Julius decided that he would take their spot so his car wouldn’t get towed. So we walked back to his car, changed spots and then walked back to the beach again.

Other than sharing this tedious journey with you, I also wanted to let you know that the whole time we were doing all this walking Julius was telling me about how planning Frosh Week 2006 was driving him CRAZY. Not only was he saddled with numerous responsibilities, but the chores that he could delegate were not being handled with the utmost expediency. He spent almost the entire day venting his frustrations, even when I tried to change the subject. I asked him about his courses and about his girlfriend, but it always came back to his troubles. That’s a classic Julius Ko move right there. I was feeling surprisingly light today, so I listened and dispensed my unique form of terse, useless wisdom. He didn’t completely unwind until we finally dove into the waters of Lake Ontario. Aaaaah, taste that sweet, refreshing disease! I noticed him immediately perk up though. I like to think I helped him out by being there for him, but I think being surrounded by cute, soaking wet, scantily clad Asian girls also contributed to his change in demeanor. He looked alive again. I went to go play some soccer with committee members I didn’t know (it’s a bonding event, okay?) and left him to his pleasures. I ended up bruising my foot, but I was happy that Julius was finally letting go of his responsibilities.

After cleaning up after ourselves, we headed to Mr. Greek for dinner, courtesy of the New College Student Council. Hoo-ra! It was excellent, even though I ended up overeating and dry heaving outside of a Burger King about an hour later. Not important to the story. Normally, when I’m at one of these social gatherings I stick to Michelle or Julius and use them as a buffer to avoid dealing with people one on one or, even worse, entertaining a group of people. Somehow I got seperated from both of them and ended up at a table with David and a bunch of people I know little about even after a handful of meetings.

David was no help at all. Somehow, SOMEhow, the conversation kept getting redirected towards me and my program and my future goals. Anyone who knows me knows that I love talking about myself, just…not that stuff. Especially since everytime I started talking, everyone listened to me even though there were eight people at the table! Ugh. So I inevitably ended up talking about my hatred of my Film minor, my constant nap taking and my lack of any plans for the future whatsoever. Not once did David try and redirect the conversation to himself or even attempt to change the subject. He sat there, satisfied with gorging himself on shrimp pasta. It wasn’t so bad, I guess. I ended up breaking out an old Psychology Seminar story and got a big laugh, which allowed me to relax for a few seconds. I also threw in some drug humour (our waiter looked slightly burnt) for good measure.

I made it through the night alive and ended up bumming a ride off of Jess’ friend’s sister, Queenie. We both live in Markham and yet it never occurred to me to ask her for a ride before. She had a Hedley CD playing in the car and her and this guy, Bernard, were extolling its virtues. To be nice, I said I didn’t know much about them (which is true) and that I was more into stuff from the Canadian indy scene. Bernard asked if I was referring to Simple Plan. I held back my anger and then proceeded to explain why bands like Simple Plan, Good Charlotte, Theory Of A Deadman, etc. suck. I cited my usual resources (Nirvana, Pearl Jam, The Arcade Fire) and then gave them a taste of the other side of things. “Indulge me,” I said before blasting them with some Mushaboom. Then I laid some Stars on them and wrapped it up with The New Pornographers. They seemed to like it. I don’t think it changed their lives one bit, but at least they know where I’m coming from. It was the most civil conversation I’ve ever had about Simple Plan. I didn’t even mention my desire to inflict great violence upon them.

One last bit about the beach. I love it. I love watching beautiful beach creatures. I love the mad dash I have to make across the sand to prevent the nerves on my feet from being fried. I love the all the cliche baptism and rebirth imagery that comes with being immersed in freezing cold water and coming out knowing that today was more glorious than yesterday and tomorrow will be even better. It wasn’t exactly like that for me today, but maybe it was for Julius.

Thomas can raise a barn, but can he pick up a 7-10 split?
God blessed my brother to be a good carpenter. It’s okay.
Yeah, well he blessed you too, and I’ll give you a hint what it is: It’s round, has three holes and you put your fingers in it.
You leave Rebecca out of this!



Destined to fight the world's evil, The WAMBAG endures massive battles involving impossible stunts, races on horse-pulled carriages, and the desecration of enchanting medieval castles (all done with dizzying computer graphics). Not only does the eye candy keep on coming, the tongue-in-cheek writing and deep Transylvanian accents perfect the film with a dose of dark humor.



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