Day 178
Having my friend's copy of the Gilmore Girls complete series is seriously starting to clam into my functioning in society and yet I really don't want to return them. I can't remember what life was like without Rory and Lorelai and the Stars Hollow gang. If only I could create a thesis that depends on me watching 5 or 6 episodes a day for the next few months everything would be just fine. But this, like every other idea I have come up with for my thesis, will not work. It has gotten so out of hand that I spent all day (when I wasn't watching the Gilmore Girls) bitching to my bodyguard about it, crying, and making plans to egg my thesis supervisors office. But, my bodyguard insists (even when directly asked) that I am not a monster.
Apparently, physical activity releases happy chemicals into your body. Being as I am short on drug money and don't have many brain cells left to kill I thought I'd give it a go. I found a friend who decided to accompany me on what I originally called a "jog." I was quite pleased when she showed up and agreed that brisk walking was good enough. So we brisk walked all over for an hour and 15 minutes. That was about 7 hours ago and I am still waiting for my happy high to kick in. Then it hit me: sex. So not only would one receive a feeling of happiness through the act itself (if it's done right), but it's also working out so you may receive the happy chemical release as well. Jogging (brisk walking) is for suckers. Now if only I could find a hot male "work out" buddy.
The residence hall I live in has a central email list serve that people send out things on. I received a message today about how there was maybe a suspicious person in a part of the building. The author of this email said that he was too afraid to investigate, but he thought he should let us know. I thought to myself, pussy. Today when I walked by a community kitchen I noticed two things: 1. the door leading to the outside of the kitchen was propped open (it never is) and, 2. There was a strange man looking in the fridge. I walked on two steps and then turned back around. When I looked again the man was gone. I thought that was odd and didn't go investigate then a few minutes later I found myself writing an email to the listserve to report that I saw a man and didn't do anything about it when I saw him. But the funny thing is that I didn't call myself a pussy.
Tonight I went to a play. To get to the play I had to race around and find a bus that would drop me in the middle of these woods and then walk down a very steep deserted hill on poorly lit sidewalks surrounded by houses that felt like no one lived in them. I finally made it. And it turns out that the play is essentially about a girl who gets abducted and killed when she is out walking alone. The friend I went to the show with was going to hang out with a cast member she knew. She asked what I was going to do and I told her I was going to call a cab to bring me to a bus stop to get out of the creepy uphill walk. She convinced a cast member to drop me at the bus stop. She told the cast member, "She's a little scared to walk to the bus from here and you know after that play--well..." In the car I thanked the cast member and she said, "I would rather have you alive than dead." Then there was a long pause as I was trying to figure out what to say. I settled on, "Yeah, so would my Mom."
So I like Lady Gaga. That is fine, until I realized that I haven't gone more than 3 waking hours in the last 2 weeks without listening to her music. It is yet to be proven that this is messing with my actual living all that much, but if it carries on I am going to wonder what it says about me. Maybe I will become a mythological creature one day and folk songs will be written about my obsession and stories will be passed down. That would be neat. Guess, I have a goal now. How do you start a mythology? Hmm, bet I could Google that.
Yahoo.ca news reports today that 9 out of 10 Americans "have a favourable view of Canada." What is this? Bragging? Seriously, who could hate on Canada? The article is a little dopey though, citing that we like Canadians because they don't really have an accent and they eat the same food as we do. The actual figure of 9 out of 10 Americans was taken from a Gallup poll. I am wondering if the folks at Gallup were to ask Canadians if they thought we people from the States were "favourable" what they'd say.
Tomorrow I expect to spend productively. Anyone want to make any bets on whether or not I will succeed?
Tip of the Day: Try not to imagine what your neighbors would do if they opened the dryer door and saw your underwear.
-Canadian Castaway
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