March 7, 2002 — Sensibility

I spent most of yesterday trying to get as much of this web site back online as I could. I’m not even close to finished, but at least all of the old journal entries are back online. Which is a start, I guess.

I’m still not sure what I think of the new design, and I know it still needs some work, but it’s a change. If nothing else.

(When I would start my summer job each summer, I normally wouldn’t get much of a break between the end of school and the start of work. I would complain about this a bit, wishing I had more of a gap after the end of exams and before my three or four months of waking up at 5:30 am. My mom’s response to this was typically something along the lines of, “A change is as good as a rest.” I didn’t really believe her then, and, despite changing things around on this site, I’m still feeling kind of tired of it. [Although that might have something to do with manually checking and fixing all 322 of my journal entries over the course of yesterday afternoon.] Regardless, I’ve decided that a change is definitely not as good as a rest, even if a change is a nice idea every now and then.)

Anyway. I work today, but I have tomorrow off, so I hope to have everything back to normal by Saturday night. I had hoped to finish yesterday, but I was going a bit insane by the end of the afternoon and couldn’t deal with fixing anymore templates.

And then Amy called to invite me to a play, giving me the excuse to leave the house that I so desperately needed.

As part of one of her courses at school, Amy had a couple of free tickets to see The Edible Woman, a play based on a Margaret Atwood book, at a theatre on Front Street. I hadn’t read the book, and I was warned before I went that it wasn’t a well-reviewed play, so my expectations were pretty close to non-existent.

We arrived ten or fifteen minutes before the play started along with a mass of well-dressed grown-ups. We quickly found Amy’s teacher to secure tickets; there were several jokes about scalping the leftover tickets and drinking away the profits, but I don’t think the play was popular enough that anyone would’ve ended up with very much profit to drink away.

It was easy to feel a bit out of place at the play, like a sixteen-year-old at a bar for the first time. Everyone looked so formal, like they’d spent the day dressed up for work and hadn’t bothered to change before going out for a night at the theatre.

The play itself wasn’t bad at all, as far as I could tell. I just finished listening to a review of it on CBC radio that found it a bit less than palatable, but I guess that just shows I’m not cut out for reviewing plays.

We spent the intermission making jokes about how weird an ending the play had and then stared down the poor, vest-wearing fellow selling water, hoping to trick him into thinking we wanted to buy a bottle (undoubtedly for the price of a small meal). I think our laughter gave us away, but it was fun nonetheless.

The real ending to the play wasn’t as strong as I think it could have been, but there were enough clever parts throughout to more than make up for it.

Afterwards we found an unmonitored subway entrance so that I could sneak on by squeezing through with Amy after swiping her pass. Jeff was asleep by the time we made it back to Amy’s house, but I stayed over for awhile anyway, talking with Amy about parents and ice cream. Among other things.

In other news, my plan not to shave until I visit Kerry again might be in trouble: I won’t be able to see her next week after all, and the week after that is looking troublesome, too.

But I mostly just wish it could be easier to travel to Waterloo.

Anyway. A bug in my journal submission script didn’t convert punctuation properly in the last journal entry, so I’m writing this journal entry mostly so that I’ll have something to test the submission script with. And because I want to move the improperly punctuated entry off of the front page — it bothers me just knowing it’s there.

If only the punctuation conversion were faulty everyday, I might write more...