How I missed Thanksgiving

Yes that’s right folks, it’s never been a huge deal for me but this year I just flat out missed it completly. This doesn’t mean that I didn’t just not celebrate it, but as in I was completly oblivious to its existance! The day passed, even the weekend, without any noting of it or anything out of the ordinary. I suppose the only thing out of the ordinary is that I never know what bloody day it is. I rely too much on my Google Calendar.

So why could I have possibly missed it? Because of course I don’t have the internet and I can’t thus know what day of the week it is, let alone the actual calendar date. It’s truly sad for me and for my general existance.

Now its the holidays and, frankly and simply put, I am stuck in a hell-hole of a place with nobody around, cursed by the ‘calm’ appartment that has nothing to do inside except avoid the elusive roomate.

Am I thankful for anything, most certainly not!

Music pedagogy

I think that I’m finally able to identify what it is that is bothering me so much about my only music course that I have. It’s just far too less of a workload; and thus is boring and uninteresting. We sit in the classroom for too long of a time, hour and a half, and we talk about the same thing everyday; with no variety.

The professor is very good and kind, and understanding, but I think a little too easy. I need challenge, or I’m not motivated at all, and there is something not very motivating about learning a recorder song. It just makes me want to go to sleep, as I walk out of the class without any notes. Yes that means that it’s almost as bad as revolutionary litterature; but alas, in that class now we at least have some direction and idea of where to be going; much appreciated.

In other news I’m on a hunger strike, or so I’d like to call a body purification diet in order to clean out the dirtyness of my intestines and body. This means that my emo-phase of it, and my montly male PMS will be starting around the same time. Watch out for the mood-swings in the coming weeks peeps; it’s gonna ba a rocky rollercoaster.

In addition to that, I’m striking against cleaning the kitchen until it’s been cleared of Thanksgiving items. It’s Sarah and I’s turn to clean the kitchen, which we are fully aware of, but after three failed attempts at requesting the turkey bits to be thrown out in the garbage, it hasn’t been done and Sarah and I have decided that we will wait until they do it, considering that we had no part in the fiasco.

In addition to that, if the others think that I’m cleaning the oven, they’ve got another thing comin’, because they were the ones that burnt things and let the juices done. The most that I’ll do is maybe donate my cleaning supplies to their cause, but they are going to need metal brushes and a lot more cleaner if they are going to accomplish anything. So I’m slightly amused in that way.

In addition to that, demanding a cheque for the rest of the year’s internet bill; you’ve got to be joking me. That’s what’s been requested. My retort to this was; post the bill on the fridge, then I’ll pay you. There is something about the situation that is fishy, and I’m playing it safe, and completely within my legal rights. My sneaky suspision tells me that the bill hasn’t arrived and that’s why it’s not on the fridge, and Ben’s still trying to collect regardless of that. Again, they’ve got another thing comming. In addition since I wasn’t here in August, I refuse to pay that month’s services; obviously.

Fair, simple, and completely within legal rights; that’s the way that Osky plays da game!  

Thanksgiving and Mealhall

So like I said I would, I escaped the wrath of Thanksgiving by going to meal-hall for dinner and eating with Emily, my friend from Maine and Cheyenne, my Bermudian friend. We talked about racial problems and social services in different countries, which was quite an interesting talk, but apparently I say funny things and make people fall over. It’s not intentional; I sware! I’m really quite socially awkward.

Anyways, meal-hall food was… Questionable to say the least, but it was alright never-the-less. I ate lots, and felt like it was worth it totally. So I went home, a few hours later, to find (not surprisingly) that dinner hadn’t been served at the Red Light District and that the turkey was still cooking. It was quite hillarious before I left, Sebrina’s mom and Hussian’s mom were there trying to save the turkey which kept lighting the oven on fire. I just couldn’t help but laugh and reflect on the moment as one of those “I told you so” ones. It was nice in any case.

The food was pleantiful, so I ate some to decrease the amount left over. Mark was offended that Adriel dresses better than him and that I don’t compliment Mark enough. I’ll get right on that, despite Sebrina’s disagreement, quelle catastrophe! I left shortly after some small chat, and went to Chay’s to watch the movie Bug. Don’t bother, it’s fucked up and totally not worth the 1.5 hours that we spent going “Huh?” Something about schitzophrenia and aphids infesting the body; it’s not what we thought it would be at all. It probably had some allegorical meaning, like all films coming out of America, commenting on their pitfalls and such.

I walked home with a blanket, scarf, and it was so cold that I felt like I was dying. It was frigid beyond words, and me running still made it horribly difficult to breath. This makes me not impressed as soon I will need to start dressingly warlmly and sacrificing my amazingly awesome fashionable outfits. Oh well life goes on; but seroiusly. I need to go to Moncton like a feene to get shoes, pants, and shirts. It’s going to be a shizzle-show when I find out when Charlotte is available and we can go shopping. Credit card, here we come.

On an odd note, my stalker was at meal-hall which made me squeal, and then I had other people staring at me. This campus is so freakin’ sketchy sometimes, I’m not a freaking peice of meat available for everyone to drool over and lust after disgustingly. Sigh to the sky!

Football and Thanksgiving

This weekend in Canada is apparently what one calls Thanksgiving. Also known in scandinavian countries as tacksängelsdagen, all relating to some sort of ‘thanks.’ For whatever reason, in North America, with thankgiving comes football; more prominantly in the United States where they have their huge shin-dig about the overweight ball players that can’t run any faster than a morbidly obese grandpa with a cane and arthritis.

That having said, I took my heckling attitude to the pitch yesterday to cheer on the Mounties (whoo go ducks!), and surprise to me is that they came back and tied Acadia in the final minutes, only to loose in overtime shootout. There were not many people there, holidays and all, and the weather was perfect for tanning. Thus Rania, Emily and I all headed down and were met by Chey and Ayla, and we named ourselves the International Cheering Section. We all know nothing of football, except Emily cause she’s from Maine. We just laughed and made fun of the kickers, but two of them were really cool and did this handshake with a body slam.

I was pleased and a smile came to my face.

But what of Thanksgiving you say? Well I was awoken quite rudely this morning of the wailing that was coming from the general direction of Hussian’s room and the kitchen. Ben bought a turkey for what I refer to affectionately as “the fiasco” for obvious reasons. Hussian was degutting it, I assume, and as usual she’s screaming and yelling at, disturbingly, isn’t the top of her lungs.

I find that it’s tolerable on a normal day, when she’s in her room talking with someone and her voice carries to a point where even at a normal conversation level, I can hear her from the wall, clear as rain. She just has a voice that is booming and powerful, and thus she’s not descreet… At all. In any case, whilst laying in bed, I smiled inside my head slightly when she was complaining about the guts, but since I want nothing to do with the fiasco over here at The Red Light District, I’m going to meal hall tonight and have some real food.

Plus I fixed my door, bought cleaning supplies, and forgot to do laundry. What does this mean? It means that on Ben and Sebrina’s days, I’m going to use the laundry machine just like they do on mine. What’s the point of being control freaks, and inforcing strict rules when you don’t follow them yourselves? It screams hypocracy, quite frankly. But having said that, the next time somebody uses my laundry day, Friday, without asking me, I will stop it in the middle of the load, remove the clothing, and use it myself.

Don’t like it? Lump and deal with it.

PS: I dispise the fact that I’ve been taking refuge in the library recently. I feel like I’m catching some sexually transmitted disease by sitting on those chairs in a public space… *ick*