Monday was bright. I thought my eyes might explode. It wasn’t just bright like when the sun shines down on a clear day. It was bright like the sun had tripled its diameter and dipped itself in white radioactive honey. Yeah. It hurt to look at things. The trees were almost blinding white. So I started to imagine what it would be like if I went to the optometrist and had my pupils dilated. I also hadn’t slept (blame despondency and laziness with a dash of figurative lameness first and overwork second). Then I left my backpack at The Phoenix after all the Stagemanagers congregated there (always looking for excuses to drink barely past noon, though I did not partake). I didn’t realize this until fully twelve hours later, however, after sleeping through night class and a presentation group meeting. At this point its whereabouts are merely speculation anyway. But then I spent 10 minutes looking for my keys this morning and found them in my pocket an hour later.
So. I’ve lost the plot and not really just scholastically. I’m recently sort of like a lump of stale playdough sitting on the shelf not doing much of anything. It’s because I thought spring was here and then it fucking wasn’t. Fuck. I think it might finally be around to stay, though. The night walking to the station tonight felt like good old night is supposed to, in two words: invigorating and inspiring. Gimme some more of that sweet stuff.
The essay that I thought was due next Monday is actually due this Thursday. That leaves less time to work on it than would be ideal.
On Friday is the Theatre and Film semi-formal. Fellow Theatre CFMUer Marco and I are gonna be providing the jams because I hate hearing shitty music at events like that. You think Top 40 is good dancing music? what about the music that’s actually written to dance to instead of sell records? Euge! The fact that I don’t know how to DJ, or have time to plan out some sweet tunes (which won’t stop me from doing it anyway) wouldn’t stop me. I still have to pay 30 bucks to go, though. Is that a good deal? No, not really. Oh well, the society needs to break even on this I guess.. but we’re already saving them about 300 dollars they’d have to spend on a real DJ. And of course a lot of people are going to prefer hearing (what I consider) fairly shitty music. So because a central part of my personality is the desire for other people to be happy or at least like me (I’m not sure exactly how self centred I am in the long run), I’m a little anxious about the event. Mike A graciously said we could use his laptop for the proceedings, which will at least make things more straightforward.
In world news, the Ontario government has devoted some odd billion dollars to pay for getting insulin pumps and supplies for diabetic children. Shit. As a diabetic adult, that doesn’t help me at all. There seems to be a misconception that juvenile onset Diabetes goes away when you grow up, and that adults with diabetes aren’t as bad off and they brought it on themselves through overeating anyway; this little action is going to do nothing but further said misconception. They don’t really say if a child is anyone less than 18 or what, but what about the 20 year old struggling through university who suddenly gets diagnosed with type I diabetes? That’s gotta be way harder than people like me.. I was diagnosed at 2 and to me it’s just a part of life that I learned from the git-go. I guess the thinking behind it is twofold: a) kids need more help looking after themselves, and insulin pumps do that. b) kids are cute and bad things happening to kids is worse than bad things happening to grown-ups anyway, especially in the eyes of ze public.. opinion polls. Gosh I’m young to be so crotchety. It’s definitely a step in the right direction. But it’s just a step, and I don’t want anyone treating it as the solution to the problem. The problem being that insulin pumps are hugely expensive and rarely covered by health insurance because they aren’t necessary to survival. What they do do is reduce the risks of related (expensive) complications (blindness, missing feet).
Next year Ian is moving in with good chaps Casey, Michael and Matt. That left me and Brian to a new roomie or new digs, and because of both of our propensities for not doing much work in that area not much got done and we took the first easy solution that offered itself. So Brian and I are moving into the half-basement next door with four strangers. It has potential to be alright, and has potential to end up being really shitty. At least the two guys who we met seemed docile, amicable, pretty cool and most importantly as far as I could tell, not Haye Jiggerty (that’s Jaye’s twin of weirdly awkward doominess). But at least it’s cheaper and the stove has knobs. So that’s up in the air. As is the summer and that whole job thing. Too much uncertain floating right now. I’ll just shut up and write my essay. Yeah right.
Fraaackglagh.