Day 70: Serenade me why don’t you

You’d think we wouldn’t need to create rules governing straightforward public conduct. I had greater faith in people’s judgement … and yet there is always that guy who decides to start singing at the top of his lungs at 6:53 a.m. I was musically awaken this morning by one of the guys living next door. He starts strumming away on his guitar and singing! Just singing his lungs out as if no one can hear him. And it wasn’t just one song. It was about two and a half hours of sing, sing, singing!

Even earplugs didn’t drown out his morning serenade. By 7:30 a.m. I decided to just give in and get up. So began my Friday. (Friday again already?)

Today’s public institutions class marks the official day that I can stop worrying about that CITA profile. The Canadian Industrial Transportation Association and I can finally part ways. Now I can turn my attention to that big feature coming up for my reporting class, which reminds me of a story.

I missed a call today while I was in class. I didn’t check my voice mail until I finished all my classes at around 1:30 p.m. It turns out a guy from Enterprise Toronto, a small business centre, was “calling me back to answer some of [my] questions about small businesses.” Apparently I’d given this guy a call and left a message earlier this week.

I don’t remember any of it.

I have no idea who this guy is. I have no record of his number, his company, his job title or even his name. He sounds like a great source, and I’m pretty pleased that I have his contact information now. But all the same, it’s a little weird that I have no recollection of this whatsoever. Kudos to Past Me!

This lovely Friday also marks the day I threw all inhibitions aside in Chinese. My Chinese class is always in that awkward time either from 11:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m. or 2:30 p.m. Do I eat lunch before? After? During? Usually I try to get by with eating a snack discretely in class. It just seems a little rude to be chomping away at a bagel while laoshi is trying to teach us pronunciation. But today was different. I was starving. Hunger does things to people. It can change principles.

My last class was let out early, and I happened to be walking by a Subway sandwich shop on the way to Chinese. For once, the line wasn’t out the door! (What can I say? People love their subs.) I acted first and thought later. Ten minutes later I was walking out with a hot, toasty sandwich. I made it to class just in time, tore open the wrapping … and devoured my sandwich. The wrapper was surprisingly crinkly and there is no way to eat a sub neatly, but did that stop me? Surely you jest.

After class, I proceeded with my usual Friday afternoon routine. I went to the Starbucks at Chapters and worked through some of my readings for the week. I also picked up an issue of the Walrus. (I’m still waiting for my Maclean’s subscription to kick in.) I’ve never read the Walrus so I thought I’d give it a try. There’s a big catchy headline on the front: Did the G20 protesters have a point? I know! How could I not pick it up? Well I flipped through the magazine to see if I really wanted to go all in and buy it. Here’s the intrigue: I couldn’t find a single article about the G20! Curiouser and curiouser. I had to buy it. I will find that article!

I headed back to school early today to make the C4C (Campus for Christ) meeting at 6 p.m. This is the first meeting I’ve been to all year (and it’s November. That’s embarrassing.) but people were really friendly. I can’t believe people still recognize me as the Asian rapper from last year. (Long story short, there was a breakaway trip last fall. All first years had to enter the talent show. I’m sure you can fill in the blanks.) Goodness, something things just never die. Well I suppose it’s an ice breaker.

To finish off my Friday night, Kitty and I watched Airplane! (1980). I’d never heard of it before, but Kitty watched it with a friend from her jiu jitsu class and she said it was hilarious. It had all the appeal of terrible special effects, puns, slapstick, and truckloads of political incorrectness (Ah, the ’80s). Every single joke was the kind that makes you explode with laughter and gasp in horror at the same time. There were violent nuns, an “Air Israel” plane outfitted in a beard and turban, girl scouts in bar fights, black people with their own language, white people that said things like, “Golly gee!” and “That’s swell!” and just about every blatant sexual innuendo in the book.

And so jump-starts my weekend. Full steam ahead!


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