Day 32
This morning I awoke with a stuffed up nose. Two days before I had a dry throat. The panic set in with this new development and I finally did it, I googled, "Swine Flu symptoms". I checked out the first hit on this list it contained a garden variety of symptoms that one could have. On the bottom was a link to let you know if your symptoms were just a common cold, fever, or seasonal allergies. I clicked on there hoping I wouldn't start oinking or sprouting a curly tail in the next few days (items not on the list). I skimmed the lists of symptoms for these different ailments and realized that they were the exact same as the symptoms for the swine flu...guess, I'll never know (until the snout grows and I start rolling in the dirt).
This morning the scorpio forecast stated that I would have a resurgence of willpower and get things accomplished. So, I started to make a "To Do" list. When I double-checked the due dates for my assignments I realized that my first workshop(translation: the entire writing class slams your story in front of you for an hour and you aren't allowed to speak) story was due the not this class period but the next. I sighed in relief and then gasped in terror, that meant that I had to finish it by tomorrow to hand out copies for my classmates. My swine flu and I were placed on lockdown eating whatever scraps we could find, the unfinished to do list at our side, and a pot of coffee on. And so the quest for a coherent 16 pages began. And, three hours later with bloodshot eyes, an empty box of Kleenex and three new zits I conquered the task. And, felt all the better for it. In fact, I don't think I'll ever try to accomplish anything in advance ever again everyday will be a stacked conquest...unless, I failed to complete a task under the pressure (eh, I'd just blame it on the swine flu and everyone would believe me because there are so many symptoms that I'm guaranteed to have at least one lurking all of the time).
When I first moved into the residence hall I was thrilled at the prospect of not having to cook, ever. This was in the blissfilled days before I found out about Sunday night suppers. Every Sunday night we have rice and a vaguely unidentifiable Asian meal (VUAM) that doesn't taste like anything at all. That's fine I can live with that. But, there's more, the worst part is the "Chinese cabbage" that accompanies the VUAM. It is a a dark green with stalks that have a diameter of roughly one inch. They taste like wet wax. Tonight I entertained myself by asking the Chinese women at my table if they enjoyed the greens. They all answered that they did. I said, "Remind me to never move to China or I'd starve to death." Apparently this was an offensive remark to the non-Chinese woman at my table I found this out when she sneered, "That's so close-minded." The looks on the faces of my tablemates (except the Chinese women, they were laughing) surprized me. They looked at me as though I'd asked them if they had ever wanted to grease down a sheep in hot butter and make a little freaky love. My next comment of something like, "What it's the truth, these greens are terrible," didn't seem to improve the morale, at all. Oh well.
After dinner my residence hall had it's first choir practice of the year. I decided to check it out, thinking it'd be just like the movie Sister Act 2. You remember the one with Lauyrn Hill and all the ghetto kids that turned out to be kick ass singers and all of them in love and yada, yada. I learned three important lessons tonight, life is not always like Sister Act 2, nobody appreciates my running commentary of what is going on or my imitation cheerleader like whoops and "Great job's", and finally choir is about singing notes, not words. We spent all night learning the note progressions for our song. I have never been so confused. But, the good news is that one of the other altos sings REALLY loud, so I can just fake it, plus she sort of drowns out my running commentary. I think me and choir could work, but I am still going to pretend I'm Lauryn Hill everytime I go to practice.
-Canadian Castaway
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