The TTC union went on strike at midnight last night out of nowhere, and transit isn't expected to start running again until Monday at the earliest, so that kind of fucks up my plans of heading to campus this weekend. Had to happen the last weekend I'm in town, and while I'm working on the last essay I have to write. The next three days are going to be intense. 5000 words and a 40 item annotated bibliography.

Today's goal: 1500 words on Beloved. 10 items annotated.

Oi.

Buck 65 was his usual rad self. Cadence Weapon and Skratch Bastid were both good too. I met up with Ren and his lady friend Rachel and we had dinner before the show. The Danforth Music Hall is a strange venue. It's really not designed for a show like that. Not enough standing room. But we were up front anyhow.

I had lunch with Amanda yesterday. The goodbyes have started. Looking forward to some hellos.

Last night I read Dictee by Theresa Hak Kyung Cha for Avant-Garde and talked to Jaime for a bit online. She just broke up with her boyfriend. They'd been together for seven years and had been living together. Now she wants to see the world.

Andrea went to Ottawa for Kristin Anne's birthday party because she's a powerhouse. She called me at 2:30 in the morning for directions. Today she was in town for an MTV Hills special, and we chilled at Coffee Time while she told me stories from last night's festivities. Afterwards we met up with Joy (the Scorpio) and had lunch at Burgundy's. I've known Joy for about eight years online and I hadn't met her until today. That's definitely a personal record.

My earphones crapped out so I stopped by Future Shop for new ones. Ren messaged me and said he's picked up tickets to see Buck 65 at the end of April. I checked out some library books and walked home from Keele Station. Now I'm wondering what I'm going to write about tomorrow morning. I suppose the night is still young.

Homework is overrated. At least, that's what I apparently think.

I skipped Opera class today, originally because I wanted to catch a screening of F for Fake, but then I didn't even bother going out at all (I did hit the grocery store for some bread and ice cream cones). I managed to read about 150 pages of Notes from the Hyena's Belly and type up my project proposal for Touch of Evil. I abandoned all hope of finishing the film readings and just decided to sit, listening to the new Buck 65 album, taking swigs of cough syrup every six hours, refilling my water bottle from time to time.

I got a letter in the mail today informing me that I'm receiving a grant under the University of Toronto Advance Planning for Students program; the amount will go towards my tuition and I'll receive a cheque for the remainder. Sure enough, I logged in to ROSI and my tuition has been cleared to a balance of $0.

Having a lot of money worries me. It makes me think I'm doing something very, very wrong. Be that as it may, and that I was more or less raised Protestant and therefore am armed on a subconscious level with their work ethic, I'd better work hard for it. Today was just... well, a bout of general laziness.

Tomorrow I'm 27 for one more day.

I met with Professors Hutcheon, Clark and Columpar today to discuss what they're going to be subjecting me to. Professor Columpar seemed nice and I'm even more excited for the Touch of Evil Project. I'm doing a presentation on Marlene Dietrich, as well as the very first class facilitation of the year on cinematic re-vision. Excellent stuff. I also toured by Gillian Northgrave's office to finally meet her and pick up my CGS award money. Gillian is the Graduate Counsellor and Program Administrator of the English Department, and we'd been conversing for a few months before I was finally able to put a face to her name.

I picked up most of the African-Canadian Lit course material at the U of T book store, which has an overly complicated TOKEN LOCKER system to ensure that no one sneaks out books in their bags. Give me a break. After scoring the texts I stopped by Pita Pit for some grub. "Young Hearts" by Rod Stewart was playing on the PA inside, and it brought back memories of Ottawa. I spent some time mulling over "The Hanging of Angelique" while waiting for my appointment with Professor Columpar. It's a book that unveils the truth behind slavery in Canada as it tells the true story of a 29-year-old bondswoman who was put to death for setting Montreal ablaze. It's a wake up call to anyone willing to think that slave ownership in Canada wasn't that bad. The Underground Railway ran both ways.

For dinner I attempted beef stroganoff from scratch, and it wasn't a complete failure, but I don't think I'll be making it again. I find the recipe's sauce too thin.

Buck 65 is performing on Friday at the Drake Hotel. I might go.