november 16, 2000. Nine years and nine courses ago, I began my second odyssey as an undergraduate. The first time was nearly 20 years ago when I pragmatically chose business over a latent passion for the arts. Throughout my business education I mocked the Artsies with their useless courses on Medieval English drama and their limited career prospects; I studied the perfect market hypothesis with a view to unlimited career prospects in the corporate world. But as the perfect market hypothesis is replaced by the casino market reality and my perishable business education requires constant upgrading, the Artsies can still write well, think laterally, quote Milton and deliver, in appropriately satirical tone, the lines: "That'll be $5.13. Please drive through." - lynne everatt, november 13, 2000, the globe & mail I am really. Really. Really. Really. Sick. No fooling around, sick. The best thing is that I don't have anymore classes until Monday. The worst thing is that the goddamn university clinic closes at 11:30 on Thursdays and I didn't wake up until 10:20. The last time I went, I showed up at 9 a.m. and waited more than an hour, while the room filled up with people. There is NO WAY I could go down there at 11 and expect to get an appointment. No way. So I'm stuck. I don't know where the private doctors are here, and the general clinic doesn't open until 5 or so. The only reason that this bothers me is that I absolutely need this cleared up by Monday. I vividly remember the last week of Grade 13, when I had bronchitis and a million due dates: I made everything worse by fretting. I thought that if I didn't get everything done, my chances at university would be screwed. I'm in a situation where I want to do things right, the first time if possible. I know there's leniency for sickness, but I also know that I'll have to make up the time sooner or later or I can't graduate. Period. So bring on the doctors! I need this sucker cleared up right away! Upper years need a mockable teacher right away. There was another Ed. Social last night. Hrm. I'm not sure that I even want to talk about it. Let me put it this way: for me, Ed. Socials are kind of like one-night stands (or so I've read). I go through weeks of loneliness I decide that going out with a bunch of people I kind of know will be a good idea I get there I feel uncomfortable, bored & lonely I drink to make that feeling go away I laugh & dance until late I wake up the next day with a hangover, staring at my husband and wondering what the hell was I thinking. It's just that the experience is pretty damn hollow. Don't get me wrong: there were people there who I like and with whom I feel some sort of connection. But there was also a whole bunch of people there that I like or find interesting that didn't give me the time of day. All it did was make me homesick & frantic. To top it all off, I can't drink with this cold (and dancing makes me short of breath and weak). So there was just the emptiness and the loneliness and the franticness. I liked talking to my classmates, but I wanted there to be more. Even seeing the Anti-Stephen colossally hammered was little compensation (although he did kiss my hand. At least someone in this one-donut-store town knows enough to do that. (Suddenly I miss Jesse.)) The five minute uncontrollable coughing spell was just the icing on the cake. We went home after a couple hours. It just wasn't worth the loneliness.