A power generator broke on the University today. I live in an on-campus ninth floor apartment. At the time the power blew I was laying face down on my little turquoise loveseat for no good reason, still in my pajamas and lazily thinking about how I should make a coffee. I am an extremely slothful creature on Sundays and I was comfortably full with three raspberry jelly topped English muffins in my belly. The power going out meant no coffee and no shower any time soon. I had about three hours until I had to show up at work so I wasn’t terribly concerned.
I grabbed Luna, plopped into my bowl chair and listened to the opening chapter of an audiobook on existentialism. The silent, sunset shrouded, multi-hued apartment was the perfect setting for the topic. I enjoyed it. After more lounging around, listening to music and snacking, time began to be a concern. I had to get ready for work. I took a little lit camping lantern into the washroom and shaved in candlelight. By this time my apartment was dark. I tested the shower water, and as I submerged my hand, images of arctic glacier streams, frozen lakes and the polar bear club overwhelmed my senses. It was impossibly cold. So I fetched a little pot and filled it with some of the horrible icy water. I patiently held the pot over a little candle flame and passed the time with evil dark thoughts directed at my malevolent landlord, The University of Western Ontario. It didn’t work, if that water warmed at all, I couldn’t tell.
I ended up trudging to work feeling totally disgusting and smelly. My hair was truly great, half of it standing on end. I wore a toque even though it wasn’t really necessary. Anyway, since I was taking over for a friend he was understanding of my strife and waited while I showered in the men’s changing room for the pool. I felt better. I would have felt great if scholarly obligations weren’t crushing me quite so bad right now. I’m still fighting with Merle too if anyone cares. She called me scum in our last conversation. So yeah, things are going great between us.
I just read the Scorpio-Scorpio relationship profile for kicks and it seems to fit pretty good. Jealousy is a major theme of our relationship and was the root of the scum comment. I tend to just think she has an undiagnosed case of Borderline Personality Disorder. My tooth still hurts and I don’t really have the money to fix it. Maybe I shouldn’t have listened to that existentialism chapter. Now I feel I have to find my passion. Maybe lumberjack. I need a coffee. I wanted to leave for work early and pick up a sub and a snack. Instead I had to bring cans of soup. I am so sick of soup. Soup sucks. I like how this post started out as a story and then just degraded into me whining and complaining.
The Ancient Undergrad 
damn i love canadians. toque! nobody says that here.I’m canadian.its too laboring to drag out the english-italian dictionary (im lazy on sundays too) so heres a new and less brain-poking language for ya:abey-ay ee-shay’s ealous-jay eecause-bay our-yay oing-gay on-ay ates-day ith-way irls-gay oo-yay eet-may in-ay ass-clay ith-way ierd-way ast-lay ames-nay. ;)ew, even thats too much work for a sunday. 🙂 hey, at least if you decide to be a lumberjack, you’re in the right country lol.
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dude. i totally understood the above comment. lol
what is a toque?
i must say that cold showers suck BIG time. if i could, i’d donate hot water to you.
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Ugh! Major suckage I tell you. We’ve only lost power once here at my university, and I didn’t really need it. I remember the generator went out right at the exact time that my boyfriend started his truck. It’s like his truck stole all the power. I told him he broke my school.
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Today is Monday. I haven’t showered since Friday. This morning, at least I had th ehuman decency to finally change my underwear. I don’t know why I crave being dirty today. I got up in time to shower and just thought, “I’ll do it later.” Three people have commented that I look cute today. Go figure.
You being a Scorpio, of course, means that we can no longer be friends, so I’ll have to restrain myself from anything to intimately friendly in the future. Also, I’m pretty sure I have BPD so that wouldn’t help (though that doesn’t really make sense because I never get jealous or call people scum; I just don’t care enough to bother). Passion. Existentialism. Whining and complaining. I would like a can of soup, maybe cream of broccoli, made with cream instead of milk (and only just a tad) so that it’s so thick it’s more of a topping for the huge baked potato I plop it on with cheese and bits of bacon.
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Toque: a winter hat sometimes with a little pompom on top. Hehehe.. I’m only down in Indiana and no one knows what a toque is! A few call sleds that and call the hats toboggans! Now that just seems very weird to me!!
I am a shower freak.. I shamefully admit. I shower twice a day… I never use to do that until recent years… I’ll blame it on the leylines.
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Interesting, I recognize you from my little foray into LJ (which I’ve since given up)… Made the jump into Xanga I see No purpose for the comment other than to say “Heey!!! I know youuuu!!”…. which I kind of don’t but oh well
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LOL i’m going to start calling my hats toboggans! and i am so a conosieur of the toques with the little pompom on top. what is life without a pompom?
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I’m getting the audiobook of Fast Food Nation because of you!
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ryc: hey, thanks, i’ll look up the documentary.
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That’s so odd, I swear there was an LJ user named “Ancient_Undergrad” in one of the UWO communities but now I can’t find him.
Oh well, my bad
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I missed Libra by a day or two as well, but I’m so un-Virgo (disorganized, far from meticulous) that I suppose perhaps I can forgive you. I do have another Scorpio friend, so I will let it slide. This time. In any case, you obviously haven’t started Notes or you would be finished with it already, and if you had started it and simply never finished, than I don’t think any suggestion I could give you would be worth following. Tom Jones might be a bit much for you (I don’t mean this as an insult, but it’s over 800 pages which is quite a commitment and I don’t expect anyone to lug that much bulk around) so I think you should read Return of the Native by Thomas Hardy. For some reason, (though I don’t know what either of you might really look like) I imagine you might appear a bit like Diggory Venn (or however you spell his name) only of course your skin and clothing wouldn’t be dyed red.
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As for the club, *I think you should make it a blogring. I’d join it just to spite myself.
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pssssht, like I would let you in under that guise.
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but what KIND of life are you living? thats the real question. sure, you can live without certain things: love, family, friends, pompoms. but is that life, REALLY? is breathing, eating, growing, wearing hats without pompoms LIFE? or is it just existence?
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Bah, she’s 20. That’s 50% closer to my age than Melissa was.
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I like this post.
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Glad you’re back!
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