(Nikon D90, 35mm DX, f/1.8, 1/25, ISO 400)
Then of course, highlight of the day. Coffee shop.
Before anyone jumps the gun, I did not consume any caffeine-based products. For those that don't know, I have pretty much sworn against buying things such as coffee for as long as I live since I'm stingy and don't feel like spending a dollar or two every day on the brown-stuff. I imagine I will crack one day when I am old/weak/severely peer-pressured (any combination of the three). So what was I doing in a Timothy's on a cloudy Tuesday afternoon?
So a couple weeks back my friend Jelena [If you just read that as "gel-leena" then you are incorrect. It is pronounced 'yell-enna'. Why must I mention this? Because she gets pissed off when people screw that up and I likewise get pissed off when people SOMEHOW mistakenly call me "Wilson", so I feel her pain. But I digress...] misplaced her running shoes in our Marketing class, which I spotted oddly one floor below the next day. Having only been given a vague description the day it happened I opted to not pick it up since it might've been someone else's, which I would learn later it wasn't. It was gone the following day. Still, she wanted to take Andrei and I out for coffee as a thanks for us trying to look for it. Andrei ended up paying, but thankfully there wasn't the whole "Asian Family Dinner" situation going on.
Another detour. From what I've observed growing up, there has always been a consistent behaviour present at many family gatherings that involved more than one family (besides always ordering generally the same food, albeit good food): who takes the food first. Usually the elders will offer the young people to take first. However, we young people were taught to respect our elders (as many of you should!) and so we rubuttle by offering the elders food first. This lasts a few rounds with the tone of the adults generally remaning polite but increasingly aggressive with each exchange before one side eventually capitulates and starts eating. Part of me wonders if there's ever been an Asian family gathering that starved to death because they were too damn humble to one another.
Anyway, that was a hefty block of text that was somewhat irrelevant. I don't think our initial plan was to stay very long, but we ended up sitting there for at least three and a half hours having very deep conversations. Topics ranged from society, growing up, and love (or lack of in my case). I'd go into details but not only was sensitive information discussed but it was also one of those talks that you just had to be there to experience. For me, it was one of those conversations that really left a mark and got me thinking and reflecting - almost like someone played fifty-two pickup with the cards representing your thoughts and memories. I figure I'd share some of what I was thinking on the way home:
I fell back to my high school days (and almost hit the floor of the bus too in reality land). When I went in I was somewhat cocky, loud-mouthed, and ignorant of other's opinions - sort of the guy who could talk the talk but not walk the walk. For two years I kept to a small circle of friends and pretty much managed to push away others with my attitude and views. Grade 11 wasn't really a turning point so much as a high point. I had migrated to a different group of friends with whom I've largely stayed in touch with since then. Life and school was going pretty good and I was feeling pretty good - I thought nothing could bring me down at that point. I was wrong.
Gravity is a bitch. Grade 12 marked probably one of the worst years of my life, now that I think about it. Problems abound in my personal life and academic life pretty much compounded into an overall piss-poor performance for the year. I applied to nine programs at several different universities. I got seven and a half rejections (U of T Scarborough offered me entrance into some stupid science program that held very little value to me) and only by going through the proper channels did I get an extension from Ryerson to get an opportunity to boost my sagging Calculus grades to get me into their Computer Science program (which was applied to in an act of desparation after I fell short in Advanced Functions; the math course lead-in to Calculus). Commencement was more of a bitter pill to swallow than it was a celebration of achievement. Pretty much everyone I knew was graduating. While I technically did as well, I wasn't moving on. I was under the impression at that time that I wouldn't be for at least another year - I was pretty upset; so much so that I didn't really stick around and headed straight home rather than congregate back at school for refreshments and mingling. I had not at that point received the extension. When I did, I fought my way into Ryerson, into a program I knew was not a match for me - somewhat motivated not by my own ambitions so much as the desire to just leave High School behind. It wasn't like I hated my high school or the teachers in it. I was just so tired of seeing the same "acquaintenances" (not the be confused with my friends) every day. Some of these people really knew how to complain, whine, and bitch about the most minute details. Perhaps the thing I cherish most in University is the somewhat more mature atmosphere and the general lack of douchebaggery (although there will always remain whiney teens to contend with I guess, given our proximity to the Toronto Eaton Centre).
First year wasn't too bad. I hated what I studied, but new friends (shoutout to Jaspaul, Shaun, Greg, Parnit, Italian Matt, "Harvey", Prabhjot, and Jerry!) made the transition smoother and the workload tolerable. I would meet Gerald (mentioned in the Day 21 post) at the commuters only event and David Gunn, who was the one responsible for introducing me to the realm of photography; all by handing me his film Nikon and what I believe was a 70-210. It felt good and I was hooked ever since. I bought my D60 in November 2008 and spent the next six months in snapshooter mode until the opportunity rose to shoot softball, and ultimate frisbee that summer. On the way out of my first year I transferred to my current major, ITM (Information Technology Management) which pretty much brings us to September 2009. Within the opening weeks I had become well-acquainted with Andrei, Matt, and Justin with whom I studied with for the entire semester. The blog pretty much carries on after that.
Something that I have always done whenever I played video games is start over mid-way through my first playthrough. I did this because I had this overwheling urge to take advantage of missed opportunities in the earlier stages. In some ways I wish that were the case with real life too. I think I've missed a lot of opportunities, lost a few friends, and overall probably could've been a more well-rounded person through the years. Alas, that isn't the case; what's done is done. There is no reset button on life. 'Just gotta keep the head up and move forward.
And thus you have the summary of petty much my academic and social life for the last five and a half years. As for my non-existant love life? I think that can be explained by the lyrics of BC Camplight's "Blood and Peanut Butter". You can listen to it here: http://www.myspace.com/bccamplightmusic. In particular, I think the chorus is a pretty accurate metaphor:
Okay, maybe not so stalkerish as the song may imply, but I hope you get the idea. Now, if you find any women about oh say five feet... actually, nevermind. More (or less text?) tomorrow.So wouldn't you answer the phoneAnd tell me you're all alone
I saw you everyday
I'm begging you to don't go away
I don't even know your name
Couldn't call you anything
Should have call you baby
Maybe just a little grin
I don't even like it when
You're making all the noise for me
I don't even know your name
Couldn't call you anything
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