I thought I'd finished reading all of the September 11th-related diary entries yesterday, but today approximately 50-75% of the diaries I read went on about it.September 11th is the anniversary of the last time I was dumped. That's the significance it bears for me. Of course, the phone conversation during which the dumping occurred was the same conversation that informed me of the bigass plane crash. So hearing or reading about those events reminds me of, like, you know, having my heart ripped out of my chest and chewed up like bacon, and stuff (though admittedly, the fact that I'm now busy being madly in love with someone who loves me back does help).
As for the deaths of *insert whatever the goddamn number is here, I can't be bothered to pay attention to the statistics because learning of one death to me is just as disturbing as learning of thousands or millions of deaths, really* people, well, yeah, that's quite sad, but really, I didn't know any of them, and it doesn't affect me more than hearing about the deaths of thousands of people in other countries around the world ... war-torn countries, third world countries, genocide, and so on ... and how often do you hear North Americans going on and on about those tragedies? Sure, if someone you know died, that changes things. If you were one of those people who worked in the World Trade Center and happened to call in sick that day by coincidence, sure that'd shake you up quite a bit. But otherwise ... how is it different than people in other continents being kill--ah fuck it .. this entry was supposed to be about how I wish people would shut up about fucking September 11th, and here I am going on about it.
All I have to say is that the date itself is completely unimportant, so quit mentioning that. The events are significant, the date is not. Repeat that to yourself, over and over, if you must. This is not a birthday party. It's just another day of the year.
Of course, if September 11th becomes a national holiday on which we don't work or attend school, I might change my mind, because fuck, I love a day off just as much as the next person ... and surely they'd tire of showing that bloody footage of the plane crashing into the building over and over, year after year. Pretty soon it would just become one of those national weenie roast days or something ... like a second labour day. People would forget why they had the day off ... just like Rememberance Day isn't so much "the day we honour those noble soldiers, killed in the war defending their allies" anymore as it is "the day we wear those red flower pin thingies and have to listen to some guy in a kilt play bagpipes in the school gym". Er ... but anyway, enough about all of this, hmm?
Right, so I'm in university now. Aside from the seemingly impossible task of not only waking up, but actually removing my carcass from my warm, comfortable bed by 6 am, it's not so bad. I've met some friendly people in my tutorials already. Even a hardcore jock was very helpful to me. I felt a slight twinge of guilt remembering my assumption and stereotyping of him when we were introducing ourselves to the class and telling everyone what we were taking and what we thought of the campus so far. He was the football player with the ghettoish folded up bandana on his recently-shaved head, the baggy jeans and the impossibly white athletic shoes who wanted to make it to pro football and said of the campus "Uh .. whole lotta girls. I'm feeling kinda distracted. Hopefully I'll get past that". Admittedly, I have to give him credit for his honesty, but I just tend not to hold guys like that in high esteem. I know I'm not one of those "whole lotta girls" they look at, and all things sports-related might as well be a foreign language to me. But I digress. The point is, he helped me out. I was asking the teacher during the class break how one would find the location of a tutorial if it wasn't listed in the book those things are listed in. She wasn't sure, and that's when Jock Guy and Jock Guy's Jock Friend walked by, so she asked them if they knew how to find out. Jock Guy told me to find the nearest computer and check the York website, and sort of struggled to remember the URL that had the information I needed, but couldn't, and then just told me which links to click on to get there. That in itself was helpful, but then after the break when we were all sitting back down in the classroom, Jock Guy got up, came over and handed me a piece of paper with two very specific, extensive URLs scrawled on it that contained precisely the information I needed. He must have checked it on a computer during the break. See, that was nice. He didn't have to do that. I don't think I would have. So yeah, maybe I should really stop making snap judgements about people. Then again, during the class introductions, I did mention that my dad was a professor at York, and he might have recognized my last name. Maybe he's just hoping I'll put a good word in. Ha .. no seriously, I doubt it. Anyway, yeah.
Another girl in that class helped me find the computers that were usually free, because she had an hour or two before her next class. We chatted on the way. She was nice. Also a mature student, though I'm not sure how old she is. Could be my age, could be older. She looks Filipino or Oriental, and from what I've noticed, Filipinos and Asians tend to look ultra-youthful until they hit middle age, at which point they suddenly look 87 years old. But then, maybe I'm stereotyping again. Maybe I'm not observant enough. Maybe I need to shut up. Yeah, maybe.
I'm a bit worried about my philosophy course. The lectures .. fuck .. the professor made references to Dionysian principles, and the story of Oedipus, as though he expected everyone to know all about those things. I know a bit about them, sure, but my dad is a history professor and has read the works of many philosophers, plus, I took on the arduous task of choosing to do an independent research project on Nietzsche during my last semester of high school before I dropped out, and ended up touching on those subjects. Meanwhile everyone else was doing projects on Hitler, Mother Theresa, Harriet Tubman, and even Jesus. Bah to them, those easy path-choosers. Bah I say! Anyway, my point was that I don't see how a first year philosophy professor can expect his students to understand or recognize these references and dropping of names. Just because people are interested in philosophy, doesn't mean they've studied it extensively during their high school years on their own time. Seriously. This course will be difficult. I hope I can handle it.
Social Science and Psychology both seem interesting so far, and I haven't had English yet. I have an English lecture and tutorial tomorrow, so we'll see how that course looks. It's called "Introduction to Literary Genres/Theories". The only English course left that wasn't completely full. Woo. English has generally always been my best subject, so I guess I'm looking forward to it. I think.
This entry is long, isn't it? I haven't done a long entry in ages, have I?
See, look at that, school is inspiring me to write more. That's good. Yes, yes it is.
I'm going to go have a nap now, because those 3 hours of sleep I got last night were less than satisfying.
Bye bye.
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