Have you ever been alone in a crowded room when I'm here with you?

Have you ever been alone in a crowded room; well I'm here with you...

Until today, I had forgotten how much I love watermelon. I think I make a post like this every year around watermelon season but really. This stuff is like... the ultimate thirst-quenching fruit. Gotta love anything that's 99.9% water.

New goal: attempt to refrain from trying to explain a cultural reference to someone when all I want to do is reference it. Seriously, I find myself doing this so often. I'm trying to explain something to someone and I think of a good cultural reference that would aid my explanation. So I say "Have you seen/read/heard... (insert cultural reference)" and if they answer in the affirmative, then it's all good. But I have this bad habit when I actually try to describe this cultural reference if they answer in the negative... which doesn't help. Cause really, if I have to explain the cultural reference in order to illustrate why it's an appropriate reference to the original conversation, I might as well have spent my time explaining my original point instead of explaining a cultural reference that aids in the illustration of my original point. God, I am so stupid sometimes...

I might just be getting more verbose about my reviews but my flixster ratings these days are twice the length of my reviews back when I first started.

Seriously... I can't reasonably be expected to post something about how much the smell in the cafeteria bugs me after that post a week ago. Everything feels inadequate in light of it.

Well that was certainly an interesting post. I don't even remember where that came from. For Karen's benefit, here's the disclaimer. It is not a true story. I don't quite remember what I was thinking at the time but I think I was seeing if I could paint a scene with words and I thought it'd be a fun challenge (this is the stuff I think of with alcohol in my system). Who knew?

I walked her home that night. It was a pretty substantial coincidence that we ran into each other at all considering our paths don't cross very often; particularly not during exams and all. But there I was, walking her home at 11. They all decided to go to Ale but she thought she'd call it a night. At least as far as Ale went. I was fine with that; never really been a big fan of Ale anyway and I noticed, as I walked her home, that these distances always seem so long when you walk by yourself... and all too short when you're walking with someone you care about. Lent her my sweater too. The temperature had spiked that day to the mid 20s. Glorious day really, but I knew it would cool down by the evening. And I knew she wouldn't have the foresight to bring something warm considering it was still in the 20s when we left a few hours earlier. People don't think of these things. I don't think of these things either. Not for myself really but when someone else is involved, that's what really makes me try to foresee possible circumstances.

So we walked all the way back to Vic Hall and she asked if I wanted to come hang out for awhile.

"I thought you were tired"

"I'm not in the mood to go to Ale but I'm probably going to relax for a bit before turning in"

Sure, why not? I mean, last time I'd ever see her and I didn't want the night to end anyway. So we hang out for a bit, talked; I never got around to finding out what her last name was or where she was from or what her family background was. It's stuff I never really remember to ask because frankly, I don't really care. Not at the moment at least. Too busy making sure I don't screw up or trip over my own tongue. It was good though, while it lasted, which wasn't for all that long, but it wouldn't have been long enough anyway, not even if we had talked till the sun came up. As I got to her door, she started to hand me back my sweater.

"You can keep it... for now. Give it back to me the next time you see me"

"What if I don't see you again?"

"Well then I guess you'll just have to live with the fact that you stole my sweater"

We chuckled at little at this and I started walking down the hall towards the stairwell. But then, in a last moment revelation, I turned back.

"I *do* want that sweater back someday"

"You can have it now..."

"Give it back to me on the greatest day of my life"

"Well... what day is that?"

"Whatever day you give it back. Cause that'll be the day I see you again"

I left it at that and made my way down the stairwell. Not even a goodbye you know, but somehow, I felt good about it. Like it had worked out better than I had hoped. I got to the ground floor and began walking across the atrium. I guess it wasn't really an atrium. The ceilings were a little low and it was a residence building after all. But it was wide, spacious, and had couches. After all, Vic Hall was the main residence building on campus so it's the one that's always open during the campus tours and everything so it's gotta look good. And it did that night. I remember noticing the swirly Persian patterns that lined the carpets right before I heard the pitter patter of shoes on the floor. It was an unmistakable sound you know; one that you learn to recognize automatically in first year because Queen's builds all their residences with the same material so the floor tiles in all the residences were basically the same.

Anyway, I turn my head slightly; more out of curiosity than anything else and there she was. Slightly out of breath. She must have run down those steps cause I didn't hear her as I was walking down them myself. I raised my eyebrows a bit; it's one of those default things I always find myself doing when I don't know what to say. She walked up to me... with that same, untraceable expression I'd seen her wear since the beginning of the year. Didn't say a word. Just put her arms around me and pressed her head against my chest. So I held her for... a minute? 5? I don't think my estimation of time is any good during times like those. All I remember is thinking to myself:

"This is it. Blank your mind and just... die in this moment"

Some kids came in at some point. Probably out celebrating the end of exams but not old enough to hit the nightclubs. So we seperated ourselves from each other and I put my hand up to her cheek. I always thought that was one of the most romantic gestures you know. The simple act of putting your palm up against another's cheek. Just one of those things. Held it there a minute, smiled, and started heading out the door. She waved to me; just like how she always did all those times we ran into each other during the year. And as I broke out against the evening wind, I remember thinking to myself,

"This is it. And this is how it feels when it's good, and whole, and pure"

Headed down to the lake. Night like this with its full moon, Kingston's waterfront deserves a visit. I sat down by the rocks and found one that was flat and slightly slanted; the perfect angle where I could lie back and simultaneously see the moon and the moonlight ripple across the lake. And I just remembered thinking it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. And to this day, it still is. Just like the feeling of walking into the night air.

You know it's a temperature spike when it was 12 yesterday, 27 today, then back to 15 tomorrow. I'm not complaining though. In the early days of spring, when the humidity's not stifling, today was GORGEOUS. And not only because I'm done exams...

Apparently, I have to rescind my "Kirsten Dunst can't act to save her life" statement in light her awesomeness in Elizabethtown. Still can't act to save her life in any other film though...

I'm watching Elizabethtown... yet another Kirsten Dunst film. Seriously, this cannot be happening to me. What are the bloody chances?! This better be good.

Sometimes, as much as I love the artsy part of me, I'm glad I have math blood running through my veins.

I have really come to appreciate how much I dislike Kirsten Dunst. Not only because that woman can't show expression on her face to save her life but because she keeps casting herself in roles that are just way too young for her. Seriously. As a 19 year old, playing a 14 year old girl in the Virgin Suicides, and as a 24 year old, playing a 15 year old in Marie Antoinette. I mean, the premise behind the tragedies of both films is that these characters are so YOUNG. We are meant to empathize with them because of how young they are when they are thrust into their respective positions. Virgin Suicides, as a 14 year old, seeing your sister kill herself by impaling herself on a fence. In Marie Antoinette, as a 15 year old, being wed to the Prince of France. But god, Kirsten Dunst just never and cannot ever look younger than her actual age. She always just comes off as some irresponsible adult who should know better when she really ISN'T an adult in both films (as far as the roles she plays).

Romantics is officially DONE. Exam today, 2-5. Dr. Morrison, Katie, everything that was weird and wonderful about going to that life changing, intellectually stimulating, and worthy-of-getting-out-of-bed-for class has packed its bags and moved on down the scene. Pedagogical genius, interesting girl, Wordsworth and his lines written a few miles above Tintern Abbey, Hunt and his ability to see the beauty in everything he passed, all of it. Never to be seen again; only to be remembered and referenced by this young aspiring teacher, as he looks forward to looking back on these days, in the future, when he gets that far-off look in his eye and tells his students that while it's important to be compassionate, tolerant, and open-minded, it's equally important to realize the all or nothing situations and to seize them... even if they turn out to be nothing. Because sometimes in life, you gotta try for all the world is worth to prove that you give a damn. As Keats would say, beauty is truth; truth, beauty. That is all you know on earth, and all you need to know.

Either that or I should wear waterproof shoes when it's raining

Wet socks + exam = discomfort

Kingston needs a better drainage system

“What it means to be fully human is to strive to live by ideas and ideals and not to measure your life by what you've attained in terms of desires but by those small moments of integrity, compassion, rationality, even self sacrifice because in the end the only way we can measure our own lives is by measuring the lives of others.”

Schuyler Fisk. A name I could never spell off the top of my head until I realized that it's not pronounced "Shoo-ee-ye-ler" but rather, pronounced "Sky-ler". But come now, who deviates from Skylar to the extent of spelling it Schuyler? Apperently, her folks did. Another piece of my life falls into place.

HOW is the idea of a third wheel still a prevalent topic in university? I don't understand this. I really don't. Maybe I'm just some stupid shmuck who only doesn't "get it" because I'm not dating someone but I don't understand how people in university, supposedly mature, supposedly grown-up, supposedly open-minded, can even fathom making someone a third wheel. You can't possibly chalk all that up to insensitivity. How can two people, dating each other, not see and/or understand how awkward it is for a third person to be around them if they do things that are very blatantly relationship-related. I've been trying to grapple with this since high school. Back then, I just put it down to immaturity and that high school kids were stupid and didn't know better. But in university? I mean granted, many people in university are equally stupid and insensitive. Maybe I'm just more aware of it now but man, I just don't understand it. I know you like each other and all but you have plenty of time to grope/snuggle with each other when you're NOT around a third person. Am I being unreasonable here? Is there something I'm not getting? I've known some couples who were very good at not making other people feel like third wheels. I hate to pull the "why can't other people be like this" card but really, why can't they? It just doesn't seem very sensitive or considerate.

Really now people, stop taking your shoes off in the library. I am well aware that working is more comfortable this way but you might not be aware of the fact that your feet smell. And as someone who sits across/adjacent to you, I find this unpleasant. Seriously...

I've come to understand that I'm not the kind of person who's ever going to be able to keep his room perfectly tidy on any type of consistent basis. And it's not because I'm a slob or can't organize myself. It's primarily because when I look around my room, I realize how much... stuff I have. And I mean, not like big stuff, I mean small random shit that just doesn't lend itself to organization very well. I mean, I look at my desktops and I see yoyos, a small crystal rock, a minature globe, a slinky, a hustler mug, 2 silver dollars, a small mp3 player, 2 sets of headphones, a solitary canister of tic-tacs, a small bottle of yoyo oil, a tube of silicone, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, a lint brush, a staple remover, some safety pins, and a refridgerator magnet.

Seriously, how am I supposed to organize this stuff in such a way that doesn't look messy. They're not stackable, they need to be within arm's reach otherwise they lose their function, they're just... not condusive to "organized".

It's just occurred to me that I've gone the entire year without getting sick!

Forget the nerve-wracking experience of telling your genius prof how much he's affected your life in the privacy of his own office. That's nothing compared to the nerve-wracking experience of giving a girl a love letter and explaining to her what it is when people around you are staring (including the same aforementioned prof).