February 12-14, 2001 — Best $1.75 I've ever spent

I've so much to cover in this journal and so little initiative to write it. What a sad state of affairs.

I'll get you right up to speed as far as all superficial things that've happened the last two days go, and then we can move into my nonsensical ranting about whatever comes to mind. So here's what you've missed: Monday, I avoided studying for physics the entire day. Literally. I went to bed without having studied a single minute. Tuesday, I woke up at 7:30AM and studied until my physics lab at 2:00PM (in which I was able to study the mechanisms of momentum and inertia and whatnot using an air hockey table -- opportunities for wasting time by simply hucking the pucks back and forth instead of actually analyzing physical properties were plentiful). The test was fine. I didn't really care whether or not I did well going into it, and since it actually seemed to go quite well, I've nothing to complain about. After the test, I went to three bookstores trying to find a copy of "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" before eventually finding one in the Chapters at Richmond and John. Sure, it involved a trip on the subway and took about an hour and a half, but gosh darnit, I didn't fail my physics test despite my best efforts, and if that doesn't deserve a reward then I don't know what does.

Which brings us right into today. I woke up in time for lunch, ate very quickly (as far away from the Middle House table as I could), and was on my way to the subway with my still-unopened copy of "The Perks of Being a Wallflower" in hand.

I ended up spending about three or four hours on the subway, and I finished the book. It wasn't really that the book was so absorbing that I couldn't put it down, since I'd every intention from the start of the trip to not leave the subway until I'd read to the last page, but it still made for an excellent afternoon. I think I'll do it again sometime next week with "Life After God," since I haven't read it all the way through in awhile. Slush was raining down when I finally saw the sky again, but I hopped up the wet stairs two at a time anyway. Gillian told me that she thinks it's odd (and I agree that it's massively unhealthy) how much I look forward to the future and ignore the present. But I don't think this is going to change until I'm old enough that I don't have the possibility of better days to look forward to. This will happen at around the time that I'm able to resist the urge to take stairs two at a time, I figure.

While there was much to relate to in "The Perks of Being a Wallflower," I definitely couldn't grasp the longing for nothingness that Charlie mentioned sometimes having. Ever since I tried to imagine what it would be like not to exist when I was eight or nine, I've been terrified of not feeling anything and of dying. That feeling scares me each time it returns, and the worst part of the book was having Charlie bring it up. I do hope that I can someday find a person like Sam, though.

While I did love the book and am glad Andrew and Dave recommended it, I don't think it could ever become one of my favourites. At times it hits too close to home, and at other times it does just the opposite, which makes for an odd read. I don't think I'll ever escape my awkward teenage years and I loath the idea of actually "participating," but I really don't think I'd be happy any other way. I spent too long almost completely alone to ever really be comfortable with or trusting of people ever again, and I can't see myself ever getting over that.

I talked to my parents on the phone for a decent length of time tonight. My dad offered to pay for my bus ticket back to Ottawa for reading week, thinking that I wasn't coming home because I didn't want to pay $84.99 for the bus. He was only half right -- as well as being enormously cheap, I'm actually quite keen on the idea of having a week more or less alone. More than keen; I think it's something I physically need at this point. In the spring I'm going to take the subway out to the suburbs of Toronto and try to find a place I can go when I need somewhere to be alone. I really haven't had that since I moved to Toronto and it's starting to get to me. And dammit, how I miss my bike.

Speaking of which, another thing I plan to add to the site next time I've a chance to pick things up from home (other than the infamous mullet pictures) is my short story debut, "The Bike." I haven't read it since I was twelve or thirteen, but it'll probably make me cringe and would be fun to put online. And if a dialogue between two bicycles isn't enough, maybe my attempt at including over a dozen major characters into a 1500-word short story about a journey to Mars entitled "Journey to Mars" would do the job. Ah, to be 13 again.

Speaking of writing, I've decided that I'm going to learn how to do it properly. My journals are still filled with grammatical errors and countless awkward sentences, so I figured I'll get to work on changing that. I bought "Woe Is I" today (along with a book of poems by e. e. cummings; never go shopping for books after reading a book in which numerous other books are that you've always meant to read are talked about), and I plan to read it along with my copy of "Sin and Syntax" next week.

And that's not all! I know it'll be hard to sleep with all this grammar-and-spelling-related excitement, but I've also taken the time to download StarOffice, so I now have a real wordprocessor -- with a spellchecker and everything! For free! Wow. The best part was finally being able to change the font that I see while I write my journal to Georgia. It's so much prettier than Times New Roman is for reading off of a screen that it makes me want to write longer journals just so I can look at it.

I think I'll leave it at that and wallow in the embarrassment of having had a font make my day.