I woke up this morning to a package from Amazon sitting on the counter. In my sleepy daze I'd forgotten what I ordered, but it was a gift from Andrea: copies of Paris, je t'aime and Flight of the Conchords Season One. Incredibly generous of her, since I know she can't afford it, and sweet of her because they're a film and show we watched together. I love her.

I brought my camera to campus, but the battery is dead. I was still using the batteries that came with it, so I'll have to find a nice rechargeable or something stronger, especially before I leave for Europe. Class was interesting in that we sat around for most of it talking about the PhD program.

I realized something, sitting there, listening to everyone's questions and comments - I'm not in the headspace I was in while I was doing my undergrad. For those four years I was intent on seeing my education straight through to my doctorate and then going on to teach at the University level. Then I took a year off and forgot what school was like, always thinking that the passion I'd felt for it would return once I went back. I still enjoy school, but my passion to teach isn't what it used to be. Professor Robins gave this advice: do it because you love it. If you don't love it, don't do it, because you'll be spending years doing it.

The thing is, I'm not sure if I love it. I still enjoy going to school, learning, hitting the books. But I've fallen under the impression that I have to admit something crucial to myself - I don't want to play the game of academia. If I wanted to make a success at being a professor, I would have to leave myself completely open to travel anywhere, to start a frequency of publications, to make contacts on conferencing circuits... and I can't guarantee that I'll want to do any of that in five years. The only reason I want to remain in the academic system is to keep learning. And if I really want to do that, if it's really that important to me, I'll do it on my own time. I'm just someone who really craves structure, I suppose. I like being assigned work, completing it, and being told that I did a good job. I'm a total nerd that way. A browner, as the kids in elementary school used to say.

Plus, it keeps me out of the real world. It's not that bad having an organization throw a bunch of money at you to go away to school and study without worrying about work. I'd like to do my PhD eventually, but at my own leisure. I'll be 30 soon. I want more of a prolonged taste of a career than I've had thus far, to find a job that keeps me living pretty well, that will allow me to pay off my loans and save a bit while providing a structure that won't drive me nuts.

Work has always been something I've felt coming at me like a charging weapon out of the darkness. If I prepare myself enough for the blow, I might be able to grab it and use it to my advantage; if I don't, it will kill me. I want to work and enjoy my life. I'm not really a bohemian character in the least. Give me some convention and I'll defend its attacks on my soul in other ways.

After class I went to the walk-in clinic by my apartment to have my cough checked out, but I was told the doctor wasn't in. I filled out a form and went back at around 4, which is apparently when everyone else was told to come back, because I ended up waiting for a good hour. I hadn't seen a doctor in years. He was a nice guy, took my blood pressure, checked my ears and throat, listened to my back and chest with a stethoscope and told me I had acute bronchitis. He prescribed me azithromycin and told me to come back if it isn't gone in five days. Here's to hoping, because I'm forgetting what it's like to breathe normally.

I watched a lot of Seinfeld and Mission Hill, plus episode three of The War. Andrea signed on and between her drunkenness and my anxiety, bronchitis and WWII atrocity headspace we had a stupid exchange of words. Time to sleep in search of tomorrow.

WHAT I'M IN F... - sigh.

I have a theory about today's Friday. It got out of bed under the impression that it was, in fact, the 13th, and decided to curse me with bad luck for about the first half of the day. I made my way to campus, found my classroom in the Hogwart's-esque University Centre, and it was empty. Not a soul at 5 minutes to class time. I asked the folks at administration what was going on, and they said they were aware of some confusion but didn't know. I phoned Gillian, but there was no answer, so I walked to the English Department office. I found out that classes - all classes, not just certain classes on a list that was sent out - were cancelled for Rosh HaShannah.

I got home just in time to Jason messaging me about a delivery man he had just buzzed up from his cellphone. I waited, but no-one showed, so I went downstairs and found a slip declaring there was no answer and that I had to pick the package up at a convenience store a stone's throw from the building. I called the postal outlet, who told me I'd have to wait until Monday for pickup, and Canada Post, who told me they couldn't send the driver back, even though he'd been there ten minutes earlier and was probably still on his route.

So now I'm starting to get annoyed at the day, and I start thinking about things that aren't right. Why haven't I heard back from Arts Court about reference letters for my grant application? So I send them a friendly reminder and figure that the day is shot when they don't email me back within the hour.

I put in the first episode of Knight Rider, which all in all cheered me up. Something about Hasselhoff's chest hair sprouting out of that half-buttoned denim shirt brings a smile to my face. It could bring about world peace. The Germans are already on board. Knight Rider was a favorite show of mine in the 80's. I got to sit in the KITT car when it appeared at the Memorial Centre in Peterborough while touring auto shows. The show IS pretty awesome, packed with insane ideas. But there are weird little continuity errors throughout that boggle the mind - shots suddenly turn mirror-imaged, Hasselhoff's injured shoulder kept changing from left to right, stunt drivers are clearly visible during certain scenes. Strangely, this all enriches the viewing experience.

At 4 I decided to visit the store to see if my package had arrived. It had. I'm the proud owner of a Kodak EasyShare Z712 IS, 7.1 megapixel digital camera. It looks like this. Stayed tuned for more pictures as I practice handling it. I also have a new alarm clock. I'd been using my old alarm clock for almost 16 years, and I stopped trusting it to get me out of bed about ten years ago. After sleeping through class last week, it was the last straw.

So I'm feeling a little higher tech now. I watched some Undergrads with Jay and capped stills of Jesus Christ Vampire Hunter for film_stills. Non-stop excitement. But! I also heard back from Arts Court. Donna thanked me for the reminder, and they'll be sending me what I need shortly. Not a bad Friday after all. Not an unlucky one, at least.

WHAT I'M IN F...

- wait a second, first things first. I slept through my first class, The Touch of Evil Project. Waking up was one of those uh-oh, why the fuck didn't my alarms (2) go off, why am I waking up under my own power kind of waking ups. Great start to a new course.

But I didn't let the morning go to waste. I emailed the prof immediately, apologizing for my absence and inquiring as to where and when I could pick up my syllabus. While waiting for a response I went to Future Shop online and bought a new alarm clock and a digital camera with memory cards. Then I started investigating grants for the next Ottawa Art Bazaar. I came across some information on a package I'm going to put together, so I sent out requests to some folks for their help. The first application for the Ontario Arts Council is due October 1st, so I'm going to look into it more extensively this week, as well as the leads I have on a couple of other sources.

Finally, Professor Corinn Columpar emailed me back, setting up a meeting for tomorrow so that she could assign me a presentation slot. She also told me where I could access the syllabus online. Therefore -

WHAT I'M IN FOR (PART TWO)

The Touch of Evil Project is not devoted entirely to the Orson Welles film; in fact, I'll be looking at a bunch of films including The Magnificent Ambersons, The Third Man, Kiss Me Deadly, Morocco, Greed, Klute, and Lone Star. The theme of the course, I think, involves interruptions and overhauls of the creative process resulting in the perversion of a director's vision. Sounds very cool. The actual "Touch of Evil Project" is a culmination of each student's contribution of one particular aspect of the film, echoed in the other material we'll be examining. I'll be graded on my contribution, which will take the form of a presentation, as well as participation, a class facilitation, and a final project (research paper or something mindblowing) with proposal and presentation. Lots of presenting. But at least the subject matter is beyond engaging.

WHAT I'M IN FOR (PART THREE)

George Elliott Clarke seems like a genuinely warm, enjoyable man, who is extremely passionate about African-Canadian Lit (although he dislikes the term "African-Canadian", "black" and any other generalization of race, claiming these definitions are only in place for political reasons). His intensity grew as he went over what we'll be studying piece by piece, and peaked in his telling of an experience he had on a plane (back from Berlin, nonetheless) just this past Sunday when a man accused him of stealing food. I volunteered to present on Oni the Haitian Sensation, and sent him an email after the fact to stress my interest. I hope I'm able to, because I'd love to turn it into an opportunity to take a closer look at Ottawa's spoken word scene. I get a kick out of making my classes into examinations of my direct interests. In the meantime, I'll be looking at Lorena Gale's "Angelique", Austin Clarke's "Choosing his Coffin", Afua Cooper's "Hanging of Angelique", Dionne Brand's "Land to Light On", Mary Shadd's "A Plea for Emigration", Djanet Sears' "Harlem Duet", Nega Mezlekia's "Notes from the Hyena's Belly", and material by the man himself as well as some films.

The University of Toronto seems like a very competitive place. I like to take my time when it comes to courses, meeting professors, sharing my ideas. I like to get the feel of the room. And the feeling I get from the rooms I've been in so far is that continuous attempts are being made to cement one's place in the front of the line. I'll pass it off to a general excitement, for now. But I've personally never been one to take the first bite of a kill.

I found out how much I'll be getting scholarship-wise. I almost fainted. The feeling came over me that I'd done something terribly wrong. I'm starting to feel funny about applying for OSAP. But the revelation is putting interesting thoughts in my head. Like where I may be spending New Year's Eve.

I don't have another class until Friday, but tomorrow is a day full of appointments. And I really shouldn't sleep through them.

My baby's up there somewhere, in the sky on the other side of the globe. At 11:11 I made my wish for her...

--

A gull drops to kiss
    its dark, watery double,
       soars again alone.

- George Elliott Clarke, "Solitude" (from "Whylah Falls")