March 22-23, 2001 — The silence we sat through

Johnston has left for somewhere in the US. I'm not quite sure which state, though. He told me several times, but I'm not good at remembering things like that. Besides, it's not as though knowing which state he was traveling to would actually help me gauge whereabouts he's going -- unless you're talking about Florida, California, New York, or Texas, odds are good that I couldn't find the state on a map. Remaining ignorant of the geography of neighbouring countries is fun.

After finishing my journal on Thursday, I went with Jeff and Johnston to Rotate This and bought the Hey Mercedes EP on vinyl along with a ticket to the Promise Ring show. I referred to it as the Euphone show (because that's what Jeff has always called it) when asking for my ticket. I felt kind of embarrassed afterward, since it probably sounded like I was trying to be all cool by naming the non-headlining band. And if there's anything I don't want...

Shortly after arriving home, Nathan and Pat dropped by and we headed to Honest Ed's. Miniature bottles of pear nectar and multiple sets of stackable tops were the evening's main purchases. On the way home, we realized that the caps of the juice bottles weren't twist-off, so we used the change slot of a Toronto Star newspaper dispenser to pry them off. Pat called me the next day to ask me if the juice had made me sick -- I think he wanted to wait until Nathan and I had survived drinking a bottle each before trying it himself. I feel so used.

With Thursday night being pub night, Johnston and I spent most of the evening playing with his stackable tops. We found that turning the spinning apparatus sideways and then letting the top drop would cause it to roll quite quickly across the room. This game quickly moved out into the hall. I almost made a person drop their drink when they were startled by a top shooting by as they rounded a corner. I'll aspire for better next time, and I'll be more than ready to yell at them if they spill anything on Johnston's tops.

On Friday, I had a lot to go through as far as the Web sites that I work on are concerned. Believe me when I tell you that you can live without hearing all the details. Far more interesting, though, is the election that I've found myself part of.

I'm not quite sure how this happens, but I always end up nominated for elections that I've no real right to win. They tend to involve an opportunity for me to give a speech, though, so I shouldn't complain too much -- I'm always more than happy to embarrass myself in front of large groups of people. And even funnier than last year's campaign for valedictorian is this year's campaign to be elected social convener of Middle House. A quick review as to why it is hilarious that I'm nominated for social convener:

1. I am the most antisocial person you'll ever meet, and I hate being convened for anything even vaguely social; doing the convening myself just isn't an option.
2. I haven't attended a single Middle House social event this year except for an obligatory shift working the door at one of the earlier house pubs.
3. I won't be returning to Middle House (or even to the University of Toronto) next year.

But Kim from the first floor nominated me as a joke, and Johnston's been running my campaign, so who am I not to give it a go? I've been helping Johnston with the posters, which are heavily inspired by the ones Matt McKeough and I thought up during preparations for our aborted attempt at running for class co-presidents in grade twelve. (As an example, there is a sign on the front door that reads, "Most candidates for social convener only go so far as kissing babies. Don't vote Karen.") Meanwhile, I've been getting together a list of talking points for after my speech. I figure I'll counter any talk of my not returning to Middle House with requests that we stick to the issues at hand and stop with the mudslinging. If all else fails, I'll accuse everyone in the room of using fuzzy math and leave crying.

Writing the speech is going to be fun. As my main campaign promise, I want to use the line, "I'll take the rum out of rum-and-coke and put the virgin back into screwdriver." Will I look like an asshole? Probably. Will it be worth recording? Yes.

Andrew visited on Friday night and we visited Indigo to read typography books and to stack their checkers pieces in precarious ways. It would be nice if design books stopped costing $70 or so each. We didn't end up buying anything, but it was fun to pretend to be intellectuals for awhile. Depending on your idea of fun. And depending on whether or not intellectuals are allowed build towers out of checkers pieces.

And then, I suppose, there's Erika.

We continue to make things as difficult as we possibly can for each other. During most of last week, we would send email back and forth until the sun was almost due to rise. My eyes are stinging even now from lack of sleep. It's difficult to deal with knowing that there will be no happy ending to all this, but I'm still thankful for having sent that first email.

All in all, I'm very happy with how things have turned out in my personal life over the last week. Nothing is going in an ideal way by any stretch of the imagination, but at the same time, I realize that I would probably have hurt myself far more if left to my own devices. My desire to seek out what I know would be completely meaningless relationships has been numbed significantly; maybe I'll be able to grow up yet. Keep your fingers crossed.