It is 10.15 am. For some reason I have been awake for the past 2 hours. I'd like to think this is because Canada has turned me into a real human being, but I find that highly unlikely. My daily energy pattern is usually sleepy-energised-sleepy-sleepy-SLEEPY-should I go to sleep? No Kate, it is 8pm. Dick.-wake-wake-wake-SHLEEP its 3am. That is it in the most poetic terms anyway. Luckily my energy lull tends to hit half way through my classes so I don't have to worry about taking notes or any of that shebang because I am virtually comatose regardless. You can't make a person in a coma take notes - I checked. Even more worrying than my sleep pattern is that I have listened to this song three times this morning:
I'm sure Canadians would like the buttery biscuit too. But they seem to like most things so that probably isn't saying too much.
One thing about Canada that makes me wake up during the night in a fit of cold sweats is the revelation that their paper/ringbinders only have 3 holes. I don't want to have to go so far as to call this immoral, but I wasn't too impressed by having my mind-blown to such an extent while standing in Walmart with 3 hole holepunch in hand and a 2 dollar 97 recorder in the other. The latter seems to play notes which are not yet known to man, and the holepuncher is even worse as an instrument. Although as the old saying goes - If you want to make an orchestra, don't start in the stationary section. Think that was Plato..maybe.
I am aware of the rambling qualities. This is to give people the illusion of a purpose other than the fact that I cannot remember anything that has happened in the last week and am trying to fill in the gaps in my brain through incessant typing. It is working though. All these words are on the screen and you can barely tell that they are meaningless. I might as well not even be in Canada for all the interesting thoughts and observations that have passed my mind since I have been here. Well tough shit. Because I'm not going home. Ever. Until may or possibly a bit later. I don't know. Plans are for the weak.
One thing I am aware of is that time goes a lot quicker when you have class. Whereas as week one dragged like a leaden maple leaf, this week is basically done and I have barely had time to blink. It has been good, because I haven't felt too overwhelmed by classes as they scurry along past me, but at the same time I feel like I have wasted another week here not doing anything. I shall go downtown tomorrow though. Even if only to purchase some mighty fine French Literature. Because I am doing a French module, not because I am being a pretentious person who needs to make sure everyone knows that some of the literature they read is French. Non, je ne veux pas le faire.
Although having written about not doing anything has reminded me that I do have a valid excuse. I had intended to potter around yesterday. Perchance indulge myself in some colonial literature by the parliament, chow down on a cinnabon and such wonders. BUT..this is where my excuse for being a failure at life kicks in. I had a minor bout of food poisoning. Everything was going wonderful until the pasta bake. Oh the pasta bake. It tasted really good, and irony played its little game of making me say to myself that I was so glad to have something that tasted like a proper homecooked meal for a change instead of that damn pizza. Towards the end of dinner everything got a bit hazy. The rest of the night was full of vomiting, sweating and peristaltic stomach movements. Needless to say guys were lining up outside my door. Can you blame them? The only redeeming feature of the night was that I got a toy broccoli from Ikea. I just thought with Connect 4 and the fishing game in my room that I wasn't coming across quite immature enough yet, so I decided to seal my fate and to enter Neverland..never to return.
I Moose-t be going now. I was doing some work but I decided to take a Paws.
I'm sure Canadians would like the buttery biscuit too. But they seem to like most things so that probably isn't saying too much.
One thing about Canada that makes me wake up during the night in a fit of cold sweats is the revelation that their paper/ringbinders only have 3 holes. I don't want to have to go so far as to call this immoral, but I wasn't too impressed by having my mind-blown to such an extent while standing in Walmart with 3 hole holepunch in hand and a 2 dollar 97 recorder in the other. The latter seems to play notes which are not yet known to man, and the holepuncher is even worse as an instrument. Although as the old saying goes - If you want to make an orchestra, don't start in the stationary section. Think that was Plato..maybe.
I am aware of the rambling qualities. This is to give people the illusion of a purpose other than the fact that I cannot remember anything that has happened in the last week and am trying to fill in the gaps in my brain through incessant typing. It is working though. All these words are on the screen and you can barely tell that they are meaningless. I might as well not even be in Canada for all the interesting thoughts and observations that have passed my mind since I have been here. Well tough shit. Because I'm not going home. Ever. Until may or possibly a bit later. I don't know. Plans are for the weak.
One thing I am aware of is that time goes a lot quicker when you have class. Whereas as week one dragged like a leaden maple leaf, this week is basically done and I have barely had time to blink. It has been good, because I haven't felt too overwhelmed by classes as they scurry along past me, but at the same time I feel like I have wasted another week here not doing anything. I shall go downtown tomorrow though. Even if only to purchase some mighty fine French Literature. Because I am doing a French module, not because I am being a pretentious person who needs to make sure everyone knows that some of the literature they read is French. Non, je ne veux pas le faire.
Although having written about not doing anything has reminded me that I do have a valid excuse. I had intended to potter around yesterday. Perchance indulge myself in some colonial literature by the parliament, chow down on a cinnabon and such wonders. BUT..this is where my excuse for being a failure at life kicks in. I had a minor bout of food poisoning. Everything was going wonderful until the pasta bake. Oh the pasta bake. It tasted really good, and irony played its little game of making me say to myself that I was so glad to have something that tasted like a proper homecooked meal for a change instead of that damn pizza. Towards the end of dinner everything got a bit hazy. The rest of the night was full of vomiting, sweating and peristaltic stomach movements. Needless to say guys were lining up outside my door. Can you blame them? The only redeeming feature of the night was that I got a toy broccoli from Ikea. I just thought with Connect 4 and the fishing game in my room that I wasn't coming across quite immature enough yet, so I decided to seal my fate and to enter Neverland..never to return.
I Moose-t be going now. I was doing some work but I decided to take a Paws.
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