invaders!

sweet waste of my time. my brother is the director of this organization. i'm an underling.

update on school

well, i'm meeting lots of cool people at glendon. i'm also almost failing french, i think. this is the first time i've ever gotten such low grades in my entire school career, i think. but, i'm now minister of communications for the political science association, so thats alright! man, i wish i knew french.

sour grapes

i find it fascinating how one variety of black grapes can be so much better than another.

people need to read this book.

Opera on the Subway

Subways are a microcosm of society. You're up close and personal with all those people you'd never see otherwise, and everyone is there.. from the businessman in his well-tailored suit to the thirteen year old punk girls giggling about nonsense.

Today an oriental man, looking to be in his late twenties, was sitting across from me in the subway car, chatting away in his native tongue at his reflection in the plastic window pane. Every once and a while it seemed like he was going to start yelling, but he always calmed back down. All the other people around us stared off at walls and ceilings, trying their best to ignore his 1st person conversation. He seemed so alone. I wonder if he was brought to the brink by moving to this strange place they call Toronto.. perhaps loneliness did it. Funny how people can feel so isolated when they're surrounded by so many other people who feel the same. Of course, maybe he just does it to pass the time, and gets a kick out of all the reactions people give him.

The other week a poor little european lady was afraid to get on the subway. The streetcar driver was trying to reassure her when another woman offered to accompany. The lady seemed so relieved. I wonder where she'd come from, where she lived that subways were such a scary thing to her.

Speaking of scary things in the subway though, last Thursday there was a man walking up and down the St. Clair subway station, emptying garbages and doing other janitorial duties. He came up to me, looked me in the eyes. He kept looking back and forth, as if he were searching for something in them. About five seconds later, he turned around and walked away, and about fifteen metres down the tunnel, he broke out in a bout of opera, serenading an unsuspecting girl, who was very much flattered, and perhaps slightly scared. He also serenaded an older oriental woman, who seemed quite taken and had him pose for a photo with her. I'd like to do that.. maybe someday I will.

Public transit is a pain.