Archive for January, 2010


Well that was quick.

You can basically disregard the last half of that last blog, since it’s not going to happen. I did say that there was a possibility that things would go pear-shaped, but I didn’t count on it happening within twelve hours.

I’m really bad at reading people, that’s the problem. I used to be good at it when I was 10, and the people around me made sense. Ever since puberty, people have made absolutely no sense to me, and as a result I have no idea what they’re thinking at any given moment.

Whatever. It’s a heavy loss, but I’ll survive. Tomorrow will be better.

The Sun Will Shine Again

For five months or so, I’ve been cursed with some bad fortune. Given the incredible amount of good luck that I had in my last year of high school, I’m in no position to complain about the bad luck I’m having now.I still complain, of course. That’s just my nature. I like to whine and bitch. It’s what writers do best. But I recognize that I’m not justified in doing so.

Anyhow, now we’re approaching the end of January. According to the countdown clock running on my computer that has been continuously counting down the days, hours, minutes, and seconds remaining in the school year since October, today is the 94th last day of school, give or take a few days depending on what my exam schedule turns out to be.

Earlier in the year, when my countdown clock was at 160 days or so, it was hard to be optimistic. 160 days is a long time, after all, and seemingly nothing was going my way.

But now I feel like I’ve hit a turning point. Everything feels like it’s starting to change for the better. There are a couple of things that have contributed to this feeling.

Firstly, the days are getting longer. On Tuesdays and Thursdays my final class of the day ends at 5:30. In December, the sky was pitch-black at that time. But now there’s still some light out, and every day the sun sets a few minutes later. While the tilting of the earth on its axis has absolutely nothing to do with my life, it means that summer is coming, which makes me very happy. As great as winter is, I love warm weather and long hours of daylight even more.

Secondly, I’ve starting curling. Mock the sport all you want, but it’s something that I’ve wanted to try since I was 8 years old, and finally getting to do it has been awesome thus far. Combine that with fencing and ball hockey, and you’ve got five hours of the week where I’m feeling pretty swell.

As well, my schedule for the second term appears to be a lot easier than my schedule for first term. I get a lot more sleep without adding a single hour of classes. As well, the workload for this term appears to be lighter as well. I wrote a total of five essays last term, plus another shorter paper. This term, I’m not taking philosophy, which knocks off two of the essays, and history class this term will only have one essay instead of two, which knocks another one off. I’ll only be writing two essays this term in total. There will be more smaller assignments to do this term, but I’m not losing any sleep over those.

Lastly (and this is huge), remember a few blogs ago when I mentioned John and his plan to go into residence next year? Well, my solution to the problem was to stall for time, so I decided to apply for residence at Queen’s next year with John. That was probably the worst thing I could have done. The results won’t come out until February, at which point I would be forced to tell John that I was going to UofT next year. But by that point, it would be difficult for John to find a suitable living arrangement on his own. Essentially, I could have seriously screwed over a good friend of mine in exchange for putting the problem off for a month. I was seriously concerned about this possibility. But to my great surprise, what ended up happening was probably the best-case scenario.

A few days after I wrote that blog, I happened to see John while on the way back from class. He asked me about residence again, and I replied that going into residence next year sounded like a good idea, but that I “couldn’t give a definite answer one way or the other.”

Half true. Going into residence next year would be a much better option than searching for a house to rent. But I’d already had my definite answer in mind since October. I could have given a definite answer. I just didn’t want to. Mostly because I was afraid of damaging our relationship.

As it turns out, I had absolutely nothing to fear. John told me that he was considering a few options too. One of those options was – wait for it – transferring to UofT.

Can you believe that? I couldn’t at first. I asked him why, and his reasons were similar to mine. At this point I had nothing to fear anymore and I told him that I was considering the same option for the same reasons. I then proceeded to bombard him with pro-UofT arguments that would have made my brother proud.

Nothing is confirmed yet, and there’s still plenty of time for things to go pear-shaped, but it would appear that for the moment John is leaning towards UofT for next year. If he does decide to transfer, then I’ll have the best of both worlds, so to speak. I’ll get to return to the city I lovewithout losing a friend in the process. Plus, this would open up a whole slew of possibilities for next year, such as the possibility of rooming together next year. I fully expected that in order to return to Toronto I would have to forgo the experience of rooming with a close friend and possibly lose a friendship as well. Instead, if this materializes, I’ll get all of the positives and none of the negatives.

Things are slowly starting to click again. It’s a bit reminiscent of the first two weeks of grade twelve, where for whatever reason everything went my way. Am I anywhere near where I was at the start of grade twelve? Hell no. But I can see the comforting light at the end of the tunnel now, and that’s a good start.

Noah’s Introduction

Hello there. My name is Noah. I was born on August 27th, 1998, in the city of Wakeville.

Forgive me, I’m not good with introductions; I haven’t had to introduce myself to anyone in years, after all. I think I’ll start by telling you a bit about my family.

The central figure in my life was always my father. He was the president of NezTech, the largest munitions maker in the country. If I told you his name, you’d probably recognize it. After all, he was known around the world for his unparalleled business savvy, as well as the enormous fortune that the aforementioned savvy had garnered him. He worked tirelessly, day after day, to maintain his company’s position atop the business world. And he succeeded. None of his competitors ever came close to touching his company’s dominance.There was a price to pay for all of this, and that was that he didn’t have much time for my mothers and myself. That’s not to say he didn’t love us. He gave my mothers and I everything we could ever ask for and then some. Someone was hired to attend to every one of our needs. We had a cook, a butler, a gardener, a tailor, and about a dozen other servants, each with their own specific function. So even though he often couldn’t be there for us physically, he still cared for us immensely.

I think he loved me more than he loved any of my mothers. Right from day one, he promised me that he would give everything he had to me. The money. The fame. The power. All of it would be mine someday, he said. Of course, he didn’t believe in freebies. If I was to one day lead NezTech, I would have to earn it. He pushed me to excel in all of my studies. Math, science, history, whatever it was. He demanded nothing less than excellence from me. More often than not, he received it. It’s not that I was the brightest student. I was just really motivated. See, I was always trying to impress my father. Not because I wanted money, or fame, or power. I just wanted to see him smile. He was a very serious man, you see. He didn’t smile often. But when I told him about a good mark that I had earned, or a new friend that I had made, the stone-like expression that was cemented on his face would crumble away, and he’d smile. Nothing made me happier than knowing that I had made him smile.

As for my mothers, there’s not much I can tell you about them. I never knew any of them for long. For the most part they were kind women who seemed to take a genuine interest in me, but there was always something impermanent about them. Even if I happened to like one of them, it was hard to build any sort of relationship with her because I knew that at any moment she could be gone. Truth be told, I think I was closer with Susan, our maid, than I was with any of my mothers. Susan was a very patient and gentle person. Though I took it for granted at the time, she really went above and beyond the call of duty for me. If I was ever sad, or lonely, or just wanted someone to talk to, I’d go look for Susan, and she would always comfort me. She wasn’t paid to play Monopoly with me, or to sit and talk to me about whatever was on my mind. She just did it because that’s the type of person she was. She was the one who changed my diapers when I was young. She was the one who cared for me when I was sick. And she was in the front row at my funeral.

Oh, I probably should have mentioned this earlier: I’m not exactly alive anymore, per se. I mean, I’m still alive. Just not in the same way that everyone else is. It’s really hard for me to explain. I’m still aware of everything. I’m still able to think and see and move and learn. I just don’t have a body anymore. Not a physical body anyhow. Like I said, it’s hard to explain. There are advantages and disadvantages to my state of existence, of course.

On the positive side, I don’t have to deal with the limitations of having a body anymore. I can travel from one end of the earth to the other instantly, just by willing it. I can even be in multiple places at once if I want to, since I’m no longer bound by the laws of physics. In that sense, I’ve become omniscient. I can see everything that happens, anywhere, at any time. And without a physical brain, my ability to learn is infinite. I’ve already learned 21 languages since the accident, and I’m gaining more knowledge by the second.

But there are negatives too. Without a physical body, I can’t interact with people anymore. Not in the same way, anyhow. Without a body, I can’t be seen. Without vocal chords, I can’t be heard. I can communicate with people through their subconsciousness, but even if they remember me when they wake up, they just dismiss me as being a strange dream. So, my existence is mostly solitary now.

As limited as it was, I miss my physical existence sometimes. I miss talking to people. I miss making people smile. I miss having friends.

That’s what I’ve created you for. I hope you’ll be my friend.

Yours Truly,

Life As A Screenplay

I think life is a lot like a TV show.

Think about it. You’ve got a whole cast of major and minor characters (with yourself as the main character of course), and each of these characters is developing themselves constantly. As time goes on, new characters are introduced, and some old characters are written off the show. You’ve got a main plot that your life follows – the central omnipresent conflict in your life – and every now and then you’ve got an intrusive subplot to deal with. Maybe it’s a budding romance, maybe it’s a struggle against one of the other major characters, or maybe it’s a battle against an internal demon that resurfaces from time to time. Either way, everyone has to deal with a subplot from time to time.

As the main character, our shows generally revolve around ourselves. We have a certain amount of control over how much screen time all of the other characters get. If your plot is somewhat interesting, with many varying subplots, you’ll have more people wanting screen time. Because the camera is always on you, you can control whether a particular character becomes a major character or an obscure minor character who was written off after season two.

All of the characters in our lives, including ourselves, play a certain role. And while every character is unique, they all fit into archetypes. You’ve got the Sensitive Guy, the Overprotective Parent, the Jealous Boyfriend, the Mentor, the Dumb Blonde, the Plucky Youngster, the Patient Friend, the Drug Addict, the Rival, the Listener, the Tomboy, the Wise Old Man On The Mountaintop, the Person You Pretend To Be Friends With But Really Hate, and so on. There are hundreds of archetypes, and everyone plays one of these roles. The key is to know what your role is, and to play it in a way that is both entertaining and self-satisfying.

Then there are plot twists. These are things that the producers throw in from time to time to keep things fresh. Some plot twists are tragic, some plot twists are exciting, but all of them are sudden unexpected interruptions to our way of life, and we all experience them. When our way of life is altered suddenly by something that’s expected to happen, that’s usually because it’s the beginning of a new season. Often this happens in fall, with the beginning of a new school year.

Of course, the number one priority of your life is to avoid having your show cancelled prematurely. If your show is one that frequently portrays dangerous or unhealthy behaviour as exciting, you’re more likely to be cancelled. That’s just the way it works.

Some people believe that there’s a benevolent studio audience out there, watching our every move but not influencing us. Other people believe that a team of writers is out there, predetermining our every move. Still others believe in a director who tells us what to do, but is open to ad-libbing from time to time. As characters, we’ll never know the truth. The fourth wall prevents us from knowing the state of our existence. We just have to continue playing our roles to the best of our abilities, hope the ratings stay high, and hope that our respective shows have long and successful runs.

An Obstacle

I’ve got a friend here named John. He’s one of the guys from my old school; a great man all-around. Yesterday in politics class, I overheard John talking to three other people about getting a house for next year. That’s what people do at Queen’s: First year students stay in residence, and after first year students rent houses in the Kingston area. Not all students follow this pattern, but the majority do.

Anyhow, I heard John talking to these three other people about renting a house. I had mixed feelings about this. On the one hand, I’ve been about as passive as possible on the topic of house-seeking. I’ve never brought the subject up, nor have I shown any interest when I’ve heard other people speaking about houses. Since I’m leaving the school next year, there’s no point in looking for housemates. Obviously.

With that said, somewhere deep down I’ve been hoping that someone would approach me and say "Hey Mr. Danese, I’ve been thinking. You’re an all-around decent human being. Do you want to live together next year?"

I’d have to turn them down, obviously, but for the past month I’ve been hoping that someone would ask me. Just so that I would know that someone does care whether I stay or go. You know what I mean?

So I felt a little bit dejected when I heard John talking to these people and not even involve me in his plans when I was sitting right beside him. (It’s funny. I make it difficult for people to involve me in their plans, and then I feel dejected when they don’t go out of their way to involve me. I’m weird that way.)

But then today, John told me quietly that he was actually planning on going into residence again next year, and he asked me if I wanted to be his roommate. I said that it sounded like a good idea, but I didn’t give a definite answer one way or the other. Then he asked me not to tell the three people who he had been talking with yesterday about getting a house about his plan.

That one made me feel guilty. John picked me over his other friends. He basically said "Hey Mr. Danese, not only are you a great human being, but I would rather have you as a roommate than these three other friends of mine." That’s huge. I’m honoured.

But I have to say no.

I mean, I don’t have to say no. I could say yes and stay at Queen’s for another year. Doubtless next year would be a lot better than this year with John as a roommate. Doubtless I would make a ton of friends here with John as my roommate. For whatever reason, I have no difficulty making friends with him around. A large percentage of the friends that I’ve made here are people I’ve met through John.

But no. I am Gibraltar. I must stay the course.

So basically I have to reject the only person who went out of his way to include me in his plans for next year.

Nothing’s ever easy.

Sammy And The Subconscious

"Well, what’d you think of that?" The boy asked Sammy. The two were exiting the local cinema after watching Sherlock Holmes.

"The whole thing was just one long preview for the sequel. And I’m pretty sure that the original Sherlock Holmes wasn’t part of an underground brawling society. But still, Dr. Watson’s character was amusing, and the film itself was very clever. It kept you guessing until the end."

"Maybe it kept you guessing," said the boy. "I had the plot figured out halfway through."

"Sure you did," said Sammy. "And Guy Ritchie has a long and successful directorial career ahead of him."

Just then, the two passed by a poster for the upcoming movie Ninja Thunder.

"That reminds me of a dream I had last night," Sammy told the boy. "Some ninjas had kidnapped my dad, so I had to fly to China to save him. Only I couldn’t get a plane ticket, so I had to run across the ocean instead. Then when I got there, the ninjas challenged me to a pie eating contest, so I ate 21 cherry pies and beat them. Then one of the ninjas took off his mask and I saw that it was my dad. And then the rest of the ninjas did the same, and it was all of my family and friends, and the whole thing was a surprise birthday party for me. I woke up and was like ‘What the heck?’ Isn’t that weird?"

"Weird, yes." said the boy. He had a strange look in his eyes.

"Dreams are stupid," said Sammy. "They never make any sense."

"Dreams are not stupid." the boy snapped back suddenly. "You can do things in dreams that you could never do in a million years while awake."

"Yeah, so what?" said Sammy. "I don’t need the ability to eat obscene quantities of cherry pie."

"But wouldn’t it be cool if you could if you were ever inclined to?"

"I guess, but-"

The boy completed her thought for her. "But eating cherry pie isn’t that important?"

Sammy nodded.

"But there are important things that you can only do in your dreams." The boy asserted.

"Like what?" asked Sammy.

"Before I moved here, I had a best friend named Noah. We used to do everything together. In the summer we used go to the park and play for hours and hours, just the two of us. We’d play soccer, or baseball, or else we’d just invent some game on the spot and play that. But as great as summer was, we both lived for the winter. In the winter we’d go tobogganing on this big hill near my old house, or else we’d ditch the toboggans and just slide down on our stomachs. We’d spend entire days sliding down that hill, walking back up, and then sliding down again. And sometimes, we’d-"

Sammy interrupted him. "Okay, I know where this is going. When you moved here, you lost touch with Noah, and dreams are the only way you can see him. That’s why you think that dreams are important. Well you’re wrong. If you wanted to, you could call him and arrange to meet up. I’m sure your parents would let you visit him for a day. Wakeville isn’t that far away. So, while I’m sure it’s nice for you to dream about your old friend every now and then, it’s not something that you couldn’t do while you’re awake. Your example doesn’t prove your point at all." 

Sammy grinned from ear to ear. She had finally outsmarted the boy.

The boy looked very sad. "You didn’t let me finish my story. One day, that hill was particularly icy. I wanted to have a contest to see who could get down the hill fastest. Noah went first. He took a big running start, jumped onto the toboggan, and down he went. I’ve never seen anyone go so fast. He practically flew down the hill. But when he got to the bottom, the sled didn’t slow down like it should have. Friction was practically nil, so the sled continued along the icy plain at breakneck speed. He looked back at me and gave me a big thumbs up. He never saw the car coming. I yelled at him, but he didn’t hear me. Even if he had, there was no way of steering that thing. He died instantly."

Sammy’s smile evaporated. She felt as though she had been hit in the face by a sledge hammer.

The boy continued, though he was much quieter now. "Sometimes he visits me in my dreams, and we do all of the things we used to do. Only there’s no car in my dreams. There’s never a car in my dreams. There’s just us, our toboggans, and that hill."

"I’m so sorry," Sammy choked out. "I didn’t mean… I never knew…"

"Never tell me that dreams are stupid." the boy said. "The only stupid thing is waking up and realizing that all of the amazing things that just happened weren’t real."

Sammy was silent, and the boy walked away from her.

Sammy was used to being abandoned by him in the middle of a conversation. This time though, she knew she deserved it.


This one took a lot out of me. Let’s see if I can compose myself enough to write some commentary.

I had the idea for this at the worst possible time: Five minutes before my Spanish class started. My Tuesday schedule is such that once Spanish class begins, I have almost no free time until 9:00 PM. This idea just wouldn’t leave me alone though. It kept coming back all throughout Spanish, and then all throughout History and Psychology too. I finally starting writing at 10:18, and if you look at the time of publication below, you’ll see that this one took over two hours to write.

I hate killing off characters. Even characters that I’ve just introduced three paragraphs ago. I tried so hard to avoid having to write it. I even went back and added in a witty review of the recent Sherlock Holmes film (which, by the way, I loved. It’s just funner to be critical of things in writing). Eventually though, I ran out of filler, and had to write "Before I moved here, I had a best friend named Noah."

Why the name "Noah"? Okay, so you probably weren’t asking yourself that question, but anyhow: The name Noah is a nod to Noah Kaiba, a character from a particular show who also met with an untimely end at a young age. Like my Noah, Noah Kaiba didn’t do anything to deserve death, and his story is tragic enough that I think he deserves a character named after him. Also, don’t be surprised if this isn’t the last you see of Noah.

What I’m trying to get across here is summed up in the boy’s last line: "The only stupid thing is waking up and realizing that all of the amazing things that just happened weren’t real."

Having a nightmare about something terrible happening to you or those close to you can be scary, but it only lasts as long as you keep your eyes shut. Once you realize that it’s just a dream, the nightmare no longer has any power over you.

The worst dreams are the best dreams. Those believable dreams where you reunite with a long lost friend or a deceased family member are great while they last. But the moment you open your eyes, the spell is broken, and everything you had just moments before is lost. Waking up from a bad dream is a relief. Waking up from a good dream leaves you in a forlorn mood for a while if you can’t get the dream out of your mind.

New Term, New Approach

I am now beginning a new term at Queen’s University. Since my situation is somewhat different than it was at the beginning of the first term, it makes sense that I approach this term somewhat differently.

For starters, I need to bear in mind that everyone is temporary. With just over 100 days remaining, there isn’t nearly enough time to establish any further lasting friendships. Anyone who I meet from now until the end of April will be just a temporary companion – not a friend. As such, I believe that the proper response is to lower my emphasis on meeting new people here to a minimal level.

The flipside of this is that I need to raise my emphasis on consolidating friendships that I’ve already made, or those that I had before I came to Queen’s. Let me make one thing clear: By switching universities, I’ll be taking some heavy losses. There are people here who are very dear to me who I may never see again if I leave. So, with these last 100 days, I’d like to strengthen these relationships as much as possible in order to increase the probability that they will survive for years to come.

The next concern that I have revolves around marks. The first year of university is normally like grade 9 in terms of the importance of marks: They don’t matter. In my case, the situation is similar to grade 12: First term marks are of vital importance, second term marks are of less importance. I need to get into UofT in order to attend. My acceptance from last year means nothing. I don’t have all my marks in yet, but assuming  there are no surprises, I’m going to be about 6 percent above what I need to get into UofT. That’s less than the 10 percent leeway I had last year, but still enough that I can feel comfortable. However, I can’t take any chances. The stakes are too high. As such, I can’t relax until I receive an acceptance letter from UofT. Then, and only then, can I take my foot off the gas a little.

Next, I need to limit the number of people who know that I’m leaving as much as possible. There isn’t any long-term reason for this; I just don’t enjoy having to answer questions, that’s all. The people who need to know will know when the time is right. The people who don’t need to know will find out at some point next year when they realize that I’m not around.

Finally, I need to become a little more self-centered over the next few months. I know it sounds bad, but as we get closer to April, the happiness of the other students of this university will become of less importance to me. I need to begin living in such a way that I place my wishes above those of my peers.

Most of the above sounds really bad. I know it does. But I need to take as little damage as possible over the next four months if I’m to enjoy my summer. In the cold calculus of life, I need to put myself above people who will be complete strangers within a few months.

King For A Day

I visited my high school today. Needless to say, it was enjoyable. Every few steps a familiar face called out to me, asked me where I am now, how I’ve been doing, what I’m studying… that sort of thing. Some of these faces were old friends, some were teachers, one was a guidance counsellor, and several were priests. All of them were friendly faces though. It felt really good to be in that environment again. Even though all of my classmates were missing (save two, who also happened to be visiting the school on that day), the school still felt like a very warm and inviting place.For a few hours in the afternoon, I was king again. Invincible. Golden, just as I was last year.It just made me aware of what I was missing out on by having graduated from high school. Again I need to say it: Do you have any idea how great grade 13 would have been? Let me paint you a picture:

Because I chose to do seven courses in grade 12 when only six were required, I probably would’ve had to do only five in grade 13. That means that I would have had three spares. One spare was enough to make school amazing. Can you fathom how mind-blowingly awesome school would have been with three?

The school play this year is going to be Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, AKA My Favourite Play of All Time. I knew every word by the time I was six. Seriously. My mom had the soundtrack on CD and it played endlessly in her old minivan, so I picked up on it pretty fast. She took me to go see a live performance of the play when I was six, and I caused a bit of a disturbance by singing along from the audience. But I digress. Joseph has many more roles than last year’s Damn Yankees had, so it’s more likely that I would have been able to get a role this time around, even with my mediocre singing voice. And even if not, I would have loved to go backstage again. It would have been amazing just to be a part of this play.

As for my classes, those would have been awesome too. You get more and more choice over your courses as the years go on, and grade 13 would have featured almost perfect freedom. I would have probably been forced into taking religion due to the Catholic nature of the school, but all other restrictions would have been gone. And the quality of the teachers tends to increase as you go up on the food chain, so grade 13 would have featured an all-star lineup: Tessaro for Chemistry, Barry for History, Lee for Law, McDougall for French, Quinn for Religion. I salivate just looking at that lineup. That’s the cream of the crop right there. If you look at your schedule on the first day of school and see that you have even three of those teachers, you look upwards and thank the Powers That Be with all your heart. All five would have been a dream come true.

And it would have been great to be able to do all of the other little things again.

Like writing for the film club, for example. Today I saw Kevin, my old director, and he told me about the film that the club is currently producing. I laughed out loud. It sounds great. And I’m not going to be a part of it. Even though me and Kevin had some arguments, I’d be lying if I said that writing those short films wasn’t a positive experience on the whole.

And spending the occasional lunch time in the hallway with some of the younger students. I saw a few of them today too. I couldn’t possibly list everything that happened in that hallway over the course of the year. Fruits were smashed with badminton racquets, snowballs were thrown, elevators were tampered with, musical instruments were misused… On more than one occasion I had to save those guys from a detention when a teacher inquired as to how squashed grapes had ended up all over the hallway.

And debating seriously about the most ridiculous topics (such as the morality of having homeless persons fight to the death as a method of reducing homelessness and entertaining the public).

And watching the school’s hockey team play.

And eating ribwiches.

And (trying to) play tennis.

And going to Tim Hortons after school.

And stopping by Mr. Callaghan’s classroom every day before period two spare to make fun of his favourite hockey team, the Detroit Red Wings.

And applauding the principal during assemblies after every sentence he spoke, regardless of whether applause was appropriate or not.

I could go on and on and on forever.

Damn you, former Premier Mike Harris. Damn you to hell. I could be very happy right now. Instead, I’m awake at 2:20 AM, thinking about what could have been.

Obligatory Year-In-Review Blog

So, here’s where I recap the past year and set some expectations for the next year. And I’m a few days late with it. And it’s not very good. So sue me. 

And what a year it was. To summarize briefly, 2009 featured:

  • Period two spare.
  • The school musical.
  • The Mr. Blaik saga.
  • The university application process.
  • Film Club related drama.
  • Baseball tryouts.
  • Lunchtime with the younger students.
  • Destination Imagination.
  • Panicking over which university to go to.
  • The Waterloo trip, during which I decided for sure that I would be going to UofT.
  • The Tennessee trip, during which my previous decision became all muddled again.
  • The decision to go to Queen’s.
  • The warehouse afterparty.
  • Graduation.
  • The reconcilliation with Camilo.
  • Working at my school over the summer.
  • Moving to Kingston.
  • Frosh week.
  • Fencing. 
  • The decision to transfer to UofT.

When 2009 began, I said that it would be an interesting year, if
nothing else. It didn’t disappoint. A ton happened this year, and up until September, most
of it was good.

I should have quit while I was ahead. At the end of August I should have said "That’s it, I’m done for the year!", and gone into hibernation for the remainer of 2009. But I didn’t, and in September things began to go pear-shaped on me. For that reason, I’m kind of glad to be getting rid of 2009. It started off beautifully, but it started to go sour near the end.

Despite that, 2009 still ranks among the best years of my life. Too much good happened in the early months of the year for me to consider it a bad year.

So, what does 2010 hold?

I don’t think I even want to speculate. I’m going to spend the first four months at Queen’s, the next four months at home and working back at my high school, and the last four months are again a mystery. That’s as far as I’m going to go.

Realistically, 2009 was the best year I’m going to have for a while. If I’m right about myself, it doesn’t matter what university I’m at; universities in general are not places in which I can truly be happy. I can be content, but not happy. This being the case, I’m looking at an uphill battle until 2013 or so.

But hey, you never know. As much as I love order and routine in my life, spontaneous happenstances are inevitable, and the best moments of my life so far are the ones I never saw coming.