september 11, 2000. By sending one of those odious mass emails yesterday, I have sewn the seeds of communication. It was tremendously exciting when a few plants popped up. Stacy, Dirk, Agamemnon, Guy, Opera Sarah, Scout...they will be blessed in their days upon the earth. All of which is to say...I'm lonely! I have one friend east of Montreal and I'm married to him! Ahem. I seem to be getting sick & well in undulating sine waves of wretchedness. Sometimes I can't stop sneezing, sometimes I can't stop blowing my nose, sometimes the wet membranes on the roof on my mouth writhe bitterly, sometimes my head aches past all endurance...and sometimes I'm fine. But even when I'm fine, I'm exhausted. All the energy is going somewhere in my body, and it's simply not available to me for silly things like doing dishes or homework. Although I did do the dishes; I'd rather rush through a reading than have fruit flies in the kitchen. I hate those fuckers. No, my feminist principles have not deserted me, it's that the Boy cooked dinner. And breakfast. And the lunch yesterday. And dinner the day before that... I mean, I owe him some serious domestic labour. He doesn't seem to think so, but I'll save my free-riding for when the assignments are thick & I have no choice. Of course, that's always the time I feel the most motivated to do the dishes, but then again I'm an idiot. And a procrastinator. But I look cute in black boots so shut up. We started our English methods class today. It was nice to be in a room of sensitive people once again, although fully half of them were combining an english teachable with a science or technology teachable. Very neat. They treat the assignments in a very straightforward manner, which is a nice change from the pissing & moaning of a lot of liberal arts majors. We did a composition exercise today, and I typically missed the point entirely. While everyone else saw it as an essay, I wrote a free-associative list, trying to speak for myself in the voices of Delirium. Sometimes I'm too artsy for my own good. The one good thing was that my peer group couldn't get enough; they just about buried me under a mountain of praise. I think this class is where I'll make friends first, they're all so friendly. On the way to class, I fell down. No, really. I was walking quickly, trying to get up the hill before class started, and I didn't get my foot high enough. I was doing my U of T walk, too - the don't get in my way head down stalk that clears the sidewalk around Queen's Park. And then: boom, tilt, tumble. I scraped my hand & knee; yet I was surprised at how non-traumatic it all was. Sometimes falling makes me angry; sometimes I burst into tears. Although I felt silly & lame for falling, at least I didn't compound my humiliation by crying. And even as I felt myself going down, I could hear a boy across the walk asking if I was okay. Nice. As if that wasn't enough, the cat scratched me up tonight by using my foot as a launching pad. Her nails are extremely long and in desperate need of a clip, something that her forays onto the wall-to-wall carpet illustrate all too well. We'd never ever get her declawed - it's a pretty awful procedure - but she needs to be a bit less sharp.