Another day in grade six. Mom is of the opinion that I'm spending too much time volunteering. I think she's right: with all the other things making my head spin like a gerbil wheel, I need to cut out a few projects. Unfortunately, most of the things I have on the go are absolutely vital: course work, university applications, remaining gainfully employed and keeping up with the wedding plans. I keep drafting resignation notes for this diary. And I don't even want to talk about my social life lately. Except for the Boy, and the people who drop by his apartment, it's pretty much a graveyard.

There are a few notable exceptions. I managed to get Morgan on the phone last night, and we're pretty much caught up (personal life stable; reasonably excited about the wedding; concerned about her son). Last Wednesday I met Scherezade for shopping & chat, and it was great. Unfortunately, those 6 hours are prolly going to have to keep me for a while since she's just as busy as I am. Blech.

On the guy side of things, St. Jack was in the Last Bachelor Pad this weekend, and that was a ton o' fun. Funny; we get along much better now than we did last year. For some reason, concurrent academia put a strain on our rapport...but now that he's in his master's program and I'm a working stiff, we laugh & laugh. (Mostly about the idea of taking yaks home from Tibet as pets. They're cute until they grow up...then they get flushed down the toilet, leading to the expected race of Albino Sewer Yaks).

I find that my university friends relate the best when we're not "whatever majors being intelligent" but rather "well-read people who find weird things funny." Yeah.

Something I heard today but cannot confirm: the life expectancy rate of my highschool population is only slightly over that of Canadian aboriginals. My mother pointed out that the first graduating class is only 51 or so. Hmmm.

This all came out in the photocopy room as I was assembling class materials. I was waylaid by a teacher that has, on previous occasions, offered to help me with my applications. At the time I was a bit creeped out by the unsolicited but kindly meant help. We see each other once in awhile, and today I discovered that he was the source of the "ghetto" comment that issued from the flaky meditation instructor. I just couldn't understand where he got off calling the neighborhood a ghetto area. Hadn't I passed my entire life in these "rough & tumble" schools without incident? And I'm a weak little nerd girl besides.

But that's not really what he meant, as it turns out. Apparently, the junior high is rather unique for funneling a great deal of resources into supporting the less-than-affluent population. A significant number of kids funnel in from the government subsidized housing near by, and they're supported with lunch programs and the like. Then there's the behavior and learning disabled programs, which I'm told are the very last stop if a kid isn't to be taken from the system entirely. And it makes sense. I'd never really thought about the economic breakdown of the school before, but there are a lot of families in the area who are 2 paychecks away from financial collapse. I feel ashamed that I never noticed it before, and more ashamed that I never even wondered if my neighborhood needed any help.

Curse of the middle class, I guess.

Today is my brother's 22^nd birthday today. You have no idea how old that makes me feel.

In related news, my tattoo is now another year older.

Javina's current entry speaks of an especially graphic dream she has about her lover, one that made her want to talk to him immediately afterward. I had a similar dream last week, but it was kind of funny. In it, me, the Boy and a mysterious unidentified third were in a subway station. The train pulled in, they got on, but the doors closed and I was left behind. In this dreamland, all the subway cars had indented areas along the side, so I gathered my dream-courage and flattened myself to the outer wall of the train before it could pull away. I was terrified of falling off the train. But we got to the next station alright, and I began to search for my sweetie in a giant athletics store (yuk). And everywhere around me were my friends from highschool - you know, the ones that frost me out these days. I couldn't move without bumping into them. Finally I heard the Boy's voice. He was so mad at me for missing the train that he'd deliberately done the thing that could hurt me most: he'd sought out my ex-boyfriend Alexi and was enumerating all of my faults. It was absolutely horrid. But still, kind of funny.

Very weird/boring three hour assignment today, entering waybills into a computer system. One of the drivers kept opening the window between us & the warehouse, in order to sing loudly at us. I think he thought he was being charming. It was impossible to work, so I got up, smiled at him, and closed the window. He couldn't believe it. Neither could the girl beside me.

"I don't take that from 11 year olds. I'm not taking it from him," I said quietly. This was the second time I mentioned working with kids. It was at this point that I realized I was an Onion article. "Young low level temp casually mentions challenging day; career path." Yipe.

      living by committee; singing kareoke