Who people really are Part 1

Canada Day 10

So far (except the witchy bitch incident) things have been all nice and happy. I should've known the moment I realized the smell from my bathroom was actually deadly mold spores (hey, my shit doesn't stink) that today would be a turning point. At first I'd thought it was just me (drugged up, tired, dying of mold inhalation, and a full pot of coffee in my belly) but, when I saw the hordes of blue t-shirts I should have known. It all started on the walk to the library. I came up the hill dying to soak my moldy lungs with oxygen and there they were, all in matching outfits assembling in groups. I stayed around the perimeter and smiled when smiled at, kept my head low. Everything was fine...so, I'd thought.

Upon entering the library I should've been clued in by the guy hacking swine flu throughout the entryway or the weight I felt going up the steps, or the guy who sighed every two minutes and walked around mumbling, "Fuck, fuck, I need that fucking book." But, I set myself up alongside the glass front of the library perched on the second floor thinking I was quite smart reading about famous authors coming to town and jotting things down. I heard voices. Not the normal ones I hear telling me to drink coffee or skip the 8th slice of pizza, but the type I grew up with: young, eager summercamp-ish voices. I looked down. To my horror freshman undergrads (in blue matching shirts) were marching to the lawn in front of the library and being told by face-painted freaks in yellow tights to lie on the ground and form letters. At first I was naive enough to think it all meant something. But, none of the letters formed any type of word. And still, the chanting continued....I barely escaped. And now, I will have nightmares of being the middle line in an uppercase letter E for the rest of my life.

And then tonight I hung around a person who said that everyone who grew up in the U.S.A. has been to England and Ireland. Did I mention she was from the U.S.? The same girl later told me that there are certain "Creepy people" that live in my building. And now I can't decide who's creepier, the guy she used in her example who sent out a socially impaired email, or her.

Between all three catagories I don't know if it's safe to go out at all.

A very befuddled,

-Canadian Castaway