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Feb 28.05 not done yet. --------------- Feb 27.05 not done yet. --------------- Feb 26.05 not done yet. --------------- Feb 25.05 not done yet. --------------- Feb 24.05 not done yet. --------------- Feb 23.05 not done yet. --------------- Feb 22.05 not done yet. --------------- Feb 21.05 The return of winter, with over 10cm of snow. Finally, groundhogs hit paydirt. I mean come on, is this Feb-you-wary or what? A funny thing happened on the way to the forum is the story of the day: sexy Nixon scandal, anyone? --------------- Feb 20.05 At around 7:30 in the morning I couldn't take anymore of lying on the bench in Bahen Centre trying to fall asleep, so I got up an, stretched out and wandered around for a bit. I could tell it was still nasty cold outside and I didn't want to get locked out with nowhere to go, so I went to the newsstand and picked up a local paper and read for a bit. Trusting my friends from the previous night (a few hours ago) about Robarts being open all night was a mistake so at 8:00 I headed out to check if subway service had begun. Damn Sundays. Everything was blocked off (did you know they blocked off subway entrances? I sure didn't). I grabbed another newspaper and went where I knew I couldn't get turned out: good ol' Mt. Sinai. Forget about the chances of running into a coworker of my mom's. The hospital is like a home to me, I guess, just because my mom has worked there for ever and that gives me partial ownership. I had a seat, read the newspaper, read the wall of daffodils for cancer research donations, and generally basked in that "yesterday feels like another world" feeling when you've stayed up all night. The sort of sickly sweet, exhausted self-righteousness. On the same tone, all of the papers this morning spell out that the NHL season is officially dead. Desensitization does wonders for the Canadian hockey fan. There's not much more to my story, except for getting home, where my sister was still in bed -- good to know my panicked calls at 3:00am hadn't disturbed her in the least -- and confirming that my body was drained, smelly, hurty, in a general 'used' state. It felt good so I went to sleep for a long time after. My parents weren't even home by the time I was awake. This may be completely unrelated (but of course, no two things in life are completely unrelated. No man is an island), but I did some old tests on the now sold-out-dead-inside spark.com. And found that the results were vastly different from what I'd got years ago, in high school. --------------- Feb 19.05 My parents had left for the cottage, and reading week was wrapping up, so with no exciting plans for the day I made the snap (lengthy, drawn-out) decision to go check out the Homohop at 5ive. Partly because I didn't feel like doing nothing with some other people, and partly to feel like I have a life of my own and don't need rely on friends to have fun. What was I thinking? The (loosely defined, not-well-thought-out) plan was to get a ride back home from a friend who would be doing her own bar thing and whose dad would be driving her back from Finch in the late night. It was doomed to fail from the start. At the very least, I was looking respectably spiffy as I reached downtown at 11:00pm. It was chilly, but I'd brought gloves. Probably the only forethought I'd given that night. There was a line outside, which I hadn't been expecting, and just I was thinking "now what?" and looking at the middle aged guy with whom I'd be standing for the next little while, I spotted a friend from school. Thankful for a)having some company and not feeling like a loner, and b)moving up from the end of the line, I jumped right in, where I met a whole bunch of other UT kids and gradually began to freeze. Shivering all the while, I hopelessly continued to try to reach my ride home on the phone. The thought that I was essentially homeless for the night flashed in my subconscious, and it was kind of sexy, but I was too cold to give it much thought. I imagined that I would eventually get a hold of my friend (no doubt drinking herself into stupor) later on and waited as we slowly approached the doors. While waiting, I saw a girl from Bayview, and the guy that sits in front of me in physio. The reasonably attractive one with the earring who talks about America's Next Top Model. Vindication. I also saw my slutty buddy from Richmond Hill on a smoke break. Go figure. And my first real-life lesbian friend back from Hallowe'en. The one who'd seen me run out to her car in my boxers to retrieve my cell phone, which had fallen out of my pocket on the ride home. Once again, proof that our world is small, or more likely that we don't get out enough. I was at that waffling point where I was about to arbitrate my life away: "If I don't get in by 1:00am I'm going to go find a place to sleep because I'm cold and my back hurts." Our time came at 12:57 or so, and so in we went. I got to show my ID, which was exciting. It was crowded and there was another line for the coat check but at least it was warmer inside. When we gotto the main floor, I was surprised. There weren't as many people as I'd expected. Especially whern everyone kept saying the club was at capacity. My ass. I played the tagalong, it was a lot to take in at first (pardon the pun). But, being the freaky dance junkie that I am, I soon loosened up and enjoyed myself. It'd been a long while since I'd danced outside of my room so the experience was definitely refreshing, especially when everyone in the room is just as crazy as you are. That was the best part. Some things were as I expected: the middle aged men lurking in the shadows, the twelve year old boys (the rumours are true), the trashy emotionally stunted guys, the countless straight girls and the occasional straight girls' boyfriend (now there's wasted space), the insecure newbies (myself included). But in general, the whole 'scene' to me seems to be overhyped. Yes, its sexual and everything that everyone says it is -- just to a lesser magnitude. Everyone more or less minded their own business. This was the conclusion I came to whilst dancing to the mediocre music with my friend. Our bodies were up close and personal, but our eyes reflected our thoughts: anywhere but here. What can you expect of two people who don't know or want to fuck each other? Makes me wonder if that's a sign of the times. You come, you do your thing, you have a good time, but you don't have to really get yourself into anything. I know I'm making this sound a)so Freudian-esquely sexual with the double entendres, and b)like such an anticlimactic, cynical denouement. Welcome to the world through my eyes. When my back could no longer take anymore (think Robaxecet commercials played backwards) and the place was emptying, I decied to call it a night. A glance at the cell phone told me I'd missed around ten calls, some of which might have been from potential rides home. Who knows, since there was no caller ID. It was 3:00 by then and I thought about calling friends. Calling emergency relatives on campus. Calling home. I only chose option (c) to cover my ass in case my parents got home before me, but no one answered anyway. A good sign. So began the deafened, frozen walk home. I'd had a fun night and an awesome experience (no longer a clubbing virgin) but I needed to find shelter of some sort. After hours is not my thing. Walking through Queen's Park was scary but fun. I saw some girls, drunk and laughing and slipping on puddles of ice. I also saw the homeless in the shadows and wondered if I could ever sleep out in the cold in a park like that. Eventually I reached Robarts, which is not open 24 hours on weekends, just as I thought, despite what people say -- I know Robarts at night better than anyone. I headed to the new Woodsworth College residence on Bloor and St.George, thinking this was as good a reason as any to check the place out. Rushed in the doors when some girl swiped her card and saw security guards behind the desk. Damn. Asked for the bathroom and wandered around a bit, with a little bitterness looking at the sofas in the common areas where I wouldn't be allowed to sleep. Took my piss, discarded my wristband (I learned something at Wonderland at least), and attempted unsuccessfully to wash the stamp off of my hand and the redness out of my eyes. When I was done, I got back to the security guard and politely inquired as to where I would find a campus building that was open all night so I would (emphasis here) have a place to sleep. I was told to try the Bahen engineering building, but that my Tcard might not work since I was an ArtSci student. Whatever. Another long walk later brought me to Bahen and the futility of swiping my card over and over willing the light to turn green. I may not have gotten lucky that night, but I got lucky that night. A few minutes after sobbing and cursing, I saw someone inside the building walking my way toward the entrance. He was on his way out, and I said my card didn't work. Assuming I was an engineering student, he said "that happens sometimes" and swiped his card to let me in. Would he have done it if I weren't an engineer? Such questions haunt me to this day. Because all of the doors inside were card-swipe accessed as well. The damn snobs. I could have knocked on study rooms with students inside, but I didn't want to sleep in the presence of others. So I wandered around for a bit and found a nice big slab of wood to sleep on. I had the option of a chair with a desk, or the nicely cushioned but dirty floor. In retrospect, I probably should have chosen the floor. The bench was rock hard but I did have a little bit of shade from the light if I squished my head under the granite slab of a table. My bed was my scarf and my pillow was my gloves (again, the best decision I made that night was to bring my gloves). My clothes were my blanket, which kept riding up, damnit. And I 'slept' in periods of thirty minutes, waiting for the sun to rise, wondering what the 'tomorrow' would bring and what the fuck I was doing. --------------- Feb 18.05 Bought $5000 worth of mutual funds at the bank, depleting my pitiful savings account and putting it somewhere in the hopes of making it grow. Or that's the idea, anyway. My parents did all the talking -- I just sat there looking as pretty as I could while blowing my nose on dirty crumpled napkins and thinking "Okay, where do I sign?" I know I'm supposed to feel good about investing (and indeed I do have this sense of superiority over all the people who do big kid stuff that I don't do. After all, this is 100% my own, hard-earned money), but now I have to overhaul all my accounting. Groan. --------------- Feb 17.05 Went to check out the new Angus Glen community centre out in the middle of nowhere (literally) at Major Mackenzie and Kennedy. If it's supposed to be a draw for people buying into the new development area there, it's going to work big time. They have two ice rinks, a pool, a gym and a library. The library was especially exciting for me since I've been slowly and systematically going through Richmond Hill's system until there's nothing I haven't read. All the books there are brand spanking new, soft, untouched. Virgin. And they all have the new book smell. --------------- Feb 16.05 My brilliant plan for today was to head down to Mount Pleasant Cemetery with some friends that I hadn't talked to in months and be a photography nerd. I had all my equipment and everything. Except we got there half an hour before closing (and sundown) and I didn't want to get us locked in. Yes, I called, and apparently, they not only have security go around and kick people out, but they will lock the gates. And then you've got to find an office or security guard to let you out. So we kept the wandering and picture taking to a minimum, and just marvelled at the quiet, dormant, static atmosphere of the cemetery in the winter. I was dressed up right to the shoes, and was carrying various snacks and about fifteen pounds of photographic equipment (including my tripod, which I had brought out of principle -- later I would find that I'd developed a big goose egg on my collarbone from the bag strap), but the general tone was, might as well make a day of it. So from St.Clair and Yonge we walked and shopped down to Queen and Spadina for dinner at Lee Dragon in Chinatown. The food and service was good (and I looked like a waiter with my blue dress shirt), and the conversation was refreshing, if somewhat troubling. Don't you just hate it when you see something that so shakes the foundation of your beliefs and makes your question your own nature and the things you take for granted? For the good of society, those kinds of things should just disappear. Conspiracy and coverup and all nice and clean. Later, we had dessert at Timothy's and then hung out in a quiet Eaton Centre. There was something strange about sitting in an empty mall, while store fronts went dark and then barred up. Ours was the Banana Republic, where well-dressed-in-a-vanilla-restrained-way mannequins posed at us from behind the glass, safe among the lights and pictures and displays and racks of clothing, while we talked. But when the lights went out, they suddenly seemed so sad and lonely and empty. We could see our reflections animated in the dark window and somehow I felt more aware of being alive, but in a false way. On the subway home, without thinking, I maliciously and guiltlessly had us avoid a girl from our high school. To avoid that awkward situation of having to spend the trip home making trite conversation out of bad three to one group dynamics. Why bother? When one of us found she wasn't a stone cold bastard we had to go say hi. It is true that certain kinds of people just understand each other. Makes me feel less of a social scum. Cheers to that. --------------- Feb 15.05 Post-valentine's, mid-reading week boredom is starting to set in. Especially with my jobless dad home all the time. What is there to do when the weather sucks and nobody's around, anyway? That's the million dollar question (and the secret word dontcha know). Had another go at the SLR photography. Except when I finished my first roll, I was clueless as to how to unload the film (even with the ancient instruction manual online). I exposed the last frame over thirty times, opened the back repeatedly to check if I was actually winding correctly, exposing the poor, defenseless film, and somehow I managed to tear the perforated edges during winding too. No pain, no gain. I just feel bad that we'll never know what was on the first twenty frames (my cousin's long-forgotten exposures). It could be something catastrophic for all we know. --------------- Feb 14.05 (valentine's day) It was a gloomy, rainy, downer of a valentine's day. Which was fine by me. Somehow it made the whole Single Syndrome that much more bearable. I get these bouts of anxiety when I think about all my friends moving on with their lives, either in the context of a relationship or a career. It's not happening yet, but the idea that it is going to happen, and it is going to happen before we know it. I'm not the only one who's going through this -- I see it in lots of other people my age. We're all in the same boat together. But sometimes I wonder about the way in which this crept up on us. When and how in the past few years did this pressure build up to such toxic levels? I think the important thing to keep in mind, in these not-so-pretty periods, is that clearing out the system is a slow, gradual process, and can't be brought about by one single thing or event. It's the all-important life philosophy (credit to Chuck Palahniuk and Choke of course): "Growing up isn't just about taking responsibility. It's finally attaining the things you think will save you, and realizing they won't." "If you think this will save you, if you think anything can save you, if you thought you could learn enough, run fast enough, make enough money, fuck enough." Only you can save yourself? --------------- Feb 13.05 Went back to Wonderland for my rehire registration appointment. Thankfully, I'm back at Ghoster Coaster. And so is my ex-lead and now supervisor, until she succeeds in getting herself switched out. Hope it had nothing to do with seeing me again. On the bright side, a manager friend told me the chances of having my old supervisor again were "incredibly slim to none", to which, without a thought, I replied "good". A model employee like me can get away with what he wants to say about former bosses. Now that I have my employee card, let's see if I can actually get my money's work in perks this year. --------------- Feb 12.05 Went down to the Montreal Bistro to see a local jazz favourite, Emilie-Claire Barlow. She had a new look for the CD launch party. Shorter up close than I would have thought, but still hot. We got there late, so at first were offered standing room at the back, where all the waiters were doing their business. But there was a long night ahead so we asked to be seated in the dinner-only (no show) area until there were spots for us. Dinner was good as far as I could tell since I was waiting until dessert. But if mussels and goat cheese are your bag then I'm sure you would have liked it too. Eventually, we got our seats in time for the second set, which was very exciting. Except we soon found that the attractive but large guy sitting in front of us was blocking the view of the stage. At this point, we'd got dessert so there was something to look at while listening to the music. She'd played a lot of the crowd pleasers in the first set, but there was a lot of cool material in the second. I recognized that most of the arrangements weren't much different from the recordings, but that was fine with me, since I could sing along in my head. I'd never stayed late at the Bistro before, so when half of the crowd was gone by the end of the second set, I was delighted. We moved right up to the front at our bar seats. There were even closer seats available, but I was happy with an unobstructed view of the stage. There was a photographer there with all his lenses moving around and getting shots in, so I didn't want to look like an amateur in front of him. I did, however, get to try out my cousin's 35mm SLR for the first time. The sound of the shutter snapping was oh-so-satisfying. Overall, the music wasn't eye-opening, coming straight from the recordings, but it was enjoyable to know the songs and more interesting at least than some jazz group formats where they play the chorus and then solos follow, dropping out one by one until the chorus comes back to bookend the song. And there were some surprises, mainly from interaction with the guitar player, who was a sub. As always at the Bistro, the night was classy and entertaining (and my wallet feels that much lighter). I got to see Emilie-Claire up close and personal and walked away with a signed CD -- though I can't say I made any interesting talk with her. I'm just a basket case when it comes to fan encounters like that. Getting home was filled with interesting events, and I was in a sing-song mood. In other words, we were feeling tipsy good. Highlights on the way back include: catching a glimpse of a secret late-night society of teenaged hackey-sackers in the gazebo by the park on King and Jarvis; taking blurry night photos all over the place; discovering beer bottles and tylenol dispensers hidden under newspapers on the subway; realizing that we had caught the last ride of the night and would have been stranded downtown if we'd dawdled a few more minutes; and helping an elderly man who didn't speak English to find his bus at the Finch terminal. Tomorrow's news: have you seen this man? John Chan, 67, from Mississauga, believed missing for two days since leaving to get groceries. May be wandering the streets of Toronto. Call Citypulse at this number ... ------------- Feb 11.05 Feeling good today in contrast to yesterday's grumpiness. A lot of it has to do with snagging a long-coveted pair of jeans for half price (!!!). At least now I have some proof that good things come to those who wait. To add to the general good vibes, at Planet Aid, one of my favourite vintage spots, there was some sort of promotion going on where you'd get 14% off for kissing someone. I was probably the only guy in the store besides the 6'3" employee who joked that he'd wanted to get the small t-shirt I was buying, so I decided not to be a cheap slut and pay the extra dollar fifty. Reading week is here. The past 2 months have felt like vacation, but that's besides the point. I have but a few nebulous plans, so we're looking at a repeat of the holiday break so far. Personal time isn't so bad as long as it's productive, so I'll see if I can get stuff done and change the tone of this next stretch leading into March (a test and assignment each week). A positive attitude is the first step to ... something. --------------- Feb 10.05 I had one of those moments in biology today where I just needed to put my pen down and close my books and just shut down. About forty-five minutes into the lecture, when I was nearing that one-and-a-half page mark that says the lecture is too compressed to fit in one hour, we reached a slide that had a few points: Protein kinase B PH domain Binds and relieves inhibition by PH domain Activates Protein kinase B to phosphorylate targets Can you tell me what is doing what to what? That was only a taste of what was to come. Not more than 5 minutes later, after writing down and 'learning' endless three-letter abbreviations of proteins and pathways and chemicals, we reached a protein/enzyme activation pathway (I think). The first step involves a gem called Ras GTP, which binds and activates Raf (otherwise known as MAP kinase kinase kinase), which phosphorylates and activates MEK (otherwise known as MAP kinase kinase), which phosphorylates and activates MAP kinase. I was literally stupefied at the notion of having to 'know' of anything called MAP kinase kinase kinase, alone or as a part of a multistep pathway involving other trivally named kinases which ultimately produce a cell-signalling effect. The first thing that came to mind: "Why am I here?!" Many other people in the lecture hall were buzzing at the moment, and all the professor could say was "Quiet down please." The icing on the cake, really. Because not only were we learning useless minutiae, but she expected us to swallow it with no questions asked. The tiniest acknowledgement of our anxiety could have redeemed her. But all she had to say was for us to quiet down so she could humourlessly read straight off the next slide while we blindly and unquestionnably listened. Tell me why I should respect her? What has this person done as an educator to merit my faith in what she has to say? Not even a trace of personality, of life, has been offered by this professor to justify why we should be learning what we are learning. And so I just had to shut down. I'm not the kind of person to storm out of a class and protest, so that was the best I could do. Add to this the growing feeling of uncertainty as to what possible career I am going to hold in the future, with egging on from parents, and you have got a once-again angry, disenfranchised and lost individual. On a random coincidence, I ran into our jazz band bass player outside of campus -- this is extremely rare, especially for students in different programs. I'd been trying to scheme up ways figure out how to ask her about some sexual diversities courses since I knew she was studying it, but couldn't work out anything that wasn't obviously forced. She'd performed in The Laramie Project recently, a play about Matthew Shepard, but I hadn't found the time to go. Nevertheless, I was shopping, and for the very first time, went into Condom Shack -- just to pick up Fab to read on the way home, honestly. And she works there, apparently. Some awkward but amusing attempts at conversation ensued. I'm just glad that's been got over with. In retrospect, I think I came across as insecure and closeted, but that's generally me in jazz band anyway. It's good having another friend in music, but as any band geek knows, if you're separated by your section or your seat, there won't be much fraternizing anyway. --------------- Feb 09.05 Chinese New Year. This year is the year of the cock. Enough said. We've got two new profs: Perumalla in physiology is looking good so far. Fair pacing and poop jokes are always welcome. Oakey in pharmacology looks good too, though I miss Burnham. (who will be back later. And apparently, teaches neuropsychopharmacology. Sexy.) Time to update my homo heroes list in a big way: Rick Mercer, Douglas Coupland (okay, we all saw that one way back), and Chuck Palahniuk. I have so much to say about all of these guys that an entry here wouldn't do much justice to it. At the very least, Ian McKellan was getting lonely up on the pedestal so now he's got some friends with whom to share my gay hero worship. --------------- Feb 08.05 In total, I must have studied about five hours for today's neuroscience test. It was a one-hour essay exam, three questions. It wasn't as bad as we'd all feared, but the stress of having to compete with all of the other smartypantses in the room was bad enough. To make matters worse, one girl walked into the room ten minutes late, looking like a zombie. This is the same girl who came late during last semester's physiology test, looking just as distressed, had an argument with the prof, possibly because one test location had run out of tests. Anyway, in today's test she looked and acted like she'd just seen someone die, and had to be consoled by the professor. I won't mention details because that would imply I eavesdropped, but as they were right in front of me, all I can say is that I was very distracted. And I didn't even get the dirt, damnit. Made my return to enrichment band at Bayview after a three-month hiatus (actually I only missed a few weeks, but the next session started a long time after). I found the office swamped with boxes of Juicy Fruit sample. Sylvie, the other assistant and Ottawa music and business grad, does Marketing at Wrigley's and recently had an all-expenses paid snowboarding trip (though she had to wear lots of red and sing the Juicy Fruit song for obnoxious kids and teenagers). I think selling your soul tastes like aspartame. To give her credit, she's on much higher ground than me. The only kind of sick, twisted people that aspire to teach grade 7 and 8 students are the ones that've got some fulfillment in life to provide the kind of strength needed to pull that. --------------- Feb 07.05 Went to photocopy lots of music today, and was handling the stacks of warm, fresh paper with caution. My left thumb and forefinger are very sensitive from yesterday. Basically, we needed to grate cheese for tacos but our cheese grater was, and still is, nowhere to be found. So I was getting a little aggressive with the knife and slipped a few times. At the time it didn't hurt so much. But today I can see the slash marks and stab wounds. Reminds me of the time when I was wiping off a pair of safety scissors with my fingers, and didn't realize I'd sliced them to ribbons until later. Must be a defense mechanism of some sort. But a lousy one, considering the obvious importance of being able to feel pain. --------------- Feb 06.05 Another slow end to a slow weekend, though for no good reason. I did get around to practicing trombone so as to not be the weakest link in the band. But I still haven't done any real physical work for a long time. What happened to that endorphin-induced blur of a week of lifting weights and running the treadmill? It must be my whole 'when it rains, it pours' mentality. Hopefully some motivation will come around by reading week (Valentine's Day) so I don't squander it. Because I've still got one test per week until mid March and it's hard to get motivated during those stretches. --------------- Feb 05.05 All plans were off but I did go bowling with some friends and some family and some family friends. I got upset because I mostly played like shit and was reminded of how old and dead I've become. Also, I got ripped off eight dollars (and hell hath no mercy on those who owe me money) and bad planning plus no assertiveness (very ugly and unreactive chemistry) caused a standstill. In the end we had to turn my friend's Honda Civic into a seven-seater. And too bad for discomfort, because furniture can't talk. --------------- Feb 04.05 Had our family Chinese New Year dinner, though the actual day's not until next week. The year of the cock approacheth. It occurs to me that in the past two months, I've actually made more money from miscellaneous (sketchy) sources than I've spent. Now that's something to wrap your head around. Thinking proactively, it means I can spend more. I've also begun a quest to broaden my musical horizons, meaning I'll be sitting at the computer downloading albums. My first goal is complete the late 90's dance mix. Broadening, I say. --------------- Feb 03.05 Ran into someone on campus by unfortunate chance, as we'd both been implicitly avoiding each other since our last meeting (see Nov 12.04). At least, I was. Our awkward conversation lasted all of thirty seconds before I turned and looked at the person who had been standing next to us watching for no apparent reason. Oddly but thankfully enough, it turned out to be a classmate. And since class was starting, I took the excuse and ran. Later in the day, I decided to be spontaneous and get my university experience by attending a student rally at Queen's Park against the evils of tuition. We'd missed the march, and the people with me kept complaining about their insecurities (they wanted to leave the unpleasantness and go shopping on Bloor), but I still got some chanting in. Basically, it was a bunch of students nagging for free tuition and a few unknown politicians giving the same old platitudes. I don't think anyone was taking it seriously, but how could they? There was nothing new being said by either side and no one was being reasonable. Ultimately the politicians get the most of the event. Good publicity (we were even asked to move tighter in as a group for a better photo) plus looking courageous and reasonable in the face of ridiculously idealistic and hypocritical children. I'm not saying events like this are a waste of time -- actually I think they serve a very important function for visibility issues -- but I think everyone needs to lower their expectations and work things out on their own, and not as a mob. That doesn't solve anyone's problems. Behind closed doors and away from the media spotlight this is how things get done, and are probably getting done right now (unless I'm being naive). But maybe you just need to have a good photo so people know something's going down. --------------- Feb 02.05 Groundhog's Day. Watched the groundhog festival from Punxatawnie on tv. Frightening. I wonder if Ontario has those kind of zealots in Wiarton. The verdict seems to be six more weeks of winter, but with the weather right now it doesn't look like it. If nature wants to surprise me, I would not object to an opportunity to skiing. My general malaise, combined with last-minute (literally) working on assignments and studying has got me feeling harassed. However, the pharmacology test was very nice to us. It was a thing of beauty to see multiple choice questions that weren't five separate and tricky true or false questions in disguise. The test was held in the mechanical engineering building, and I have once again seen evidence to the idea that engineers are just freaky mole-people with not enough love. --------------- Feb 01.05 Felt too sick and infectious to donate blood today, so I've held back the whole group. We'll go when I feel better. --------------- |