When people start making comments suggesting topics for new posts, it's probably time to make one. Another good reason is that I'm going to be internetless soon. I'm moving sometime within the next 2 weeks, and I didn't really feel like paying for a full month of internet/phone and only using it for a week or two. By the way, if you live in PG, do you know where I can move to? My standards are pretty low. All I need is a roof, some way to clean myself, some way to clean my clothes, and some way to make food. Hot tubs are good since they can do all 3 of those things at once. Showers can work too, but you'd be surprised how long it takes to make Kraft Dinner in a shower. After being scalded by the very hot water a few (dozen) times you build up a tolerance. So that's ok, but your arms get tired. Standing there for twelve to fourteen minutes, 2 fistfulls of noodles raised defiantly up to the showerhead. You don't control me suggested cooking directions, not anymore!

When Rock posted about me sleeping on her couch I hadn't slept in some 35 hours. Well, unless you count about 10 minutes of Survey of English Lit II. Nothing counts in that class though, because it is a pointless non-class. I'm still tired, but happie now. I finished my 4 term papers and 1 non-term paper, so now I am more relaxed. Two were good, two were decent, and one was subpar, so that's ok, I guess.

My Renaissance Lit class is about tragedies, so we talk about tragic heros a lot. I was thinking, John Locke is like the tragic hero for Lost. He has an unshakeable belief in about the nature of the world he lives in. Well, like everyone, he doesn't know what is going on, but all of his actions are closely tied to a belief that there is an overarching plan in his universe (the island). Also, he made an oath (gave his word) in the last episode. But later we learned that the guy he made the oath to is one of "the others". So it will be hard for him to keep his oath to him, which might be the crisis that tears him apart, as tends to happen to tragic heroes.

I'm going to go to sleep now (sleep is where I become a Viking).

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I bought a package of extra bold Sumatra coffee beans from Starbucks this week with a gift card I got for christmas. It fills me with liquid happiness, which is much preferrable to solid or gas happiness. Sorry for being awol lately. The end of term is busy because I do nothing during the first 3/4 of the term. Also, I have Avian Influenza. I wrote an essay about Samuel Taylor Coleridge last week, who was a pretty wicked Romantic writer who was addicted to laudanum. He also invented those little stoves that you bring along on camping trips. Oh no wait, that was Coleman. Tickets have been purchased (thanks Dad!) for the trip to Leah and Sam's wedding in Montreal in the month of Août. The anticipation is growing in my stomach, kind of like that time I drank a fish tank full of seamonkeys. The rest of this post is a pointless series of non-sequiturs, don't read it.

Speaking of funny addictions, this study showed that a small number of people who take Ambien, which is a sleeping pill, become sleep-eaters. Hahaha, sleep-eaters. One lady gained 100 lbs, and she couldn't figure out why. Apparently it has something to do with the brain confusing the urge to sleep and the urge to eat. Its funny because the sleep-eating people apparently go into a weird, unconscious, feral type state. They just eat anything they can get their hands on, like bags of hamburger buns and raw flour. I bet they sound something like: "Mawwgrr Mawgglll!" I think I should start taking Ambien.

I didn't do anything un-school-related last week, so I don't have much to talk about. Boo! Hiss! Stop writing! That's what all the people in this computer lab are yelling at me. Well, it's kind of a silent yelling, without looking at me, but you have to read betweens the line with psychos. Or is it compulsively reading between the lines makes you a psycho? Who can remember? Sleep-eaters, that's who.

The Canucks have been causing the opposite of mirth in my heart laterly. Anti-mirth, you might say, if you were prone to making up fake words. And you are, I know you are, you big fakewordinator. My anti-mirth is under control though, I still have the baseless faith which is requisite for being a sportsfan. Remember that one Carebear who always went around calling everyone "sportsfan"? He was pretty awesome, although he seemed like more of a lion than a bear. I once had a kitten named Sporty. He would skoot around the floor willy nilly. He didn't skoot as much as Skooty, mind you, but he skooted his fair share. Later we had to give him away. I think he grew up to be a greyhound.

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I'm not Chuck. I've just been busy. This week has been pretty good. I did a 42 minute presentation at school on a novel called Foe, by JM Coetzee. I have a webcourse in which 40% of the mark comes from posting about our 7-8 novels in a forum. Last week I posted so much that the teacher made a new rule that individual posts had to be limited to one paragraph. Sometimes I forget about that whole quality>quantity thing. I get carried away and fall asleep in front of my computer. Then the next day I have to walk around with a keyboard-shaped imprint on my face.

On Tuesday I got a 4-box package of chocolate in the mail from my friend in Germany. Apparently Kinder is retiring the iconic young boy's face which has been a fixture on their box for 30 years. This spun said friend into a pop-cultural existential crisis, the result of which was that she bought boxes of chocolate en masse. I think she sent some to me because she knows that I'm comfortable with the psychological bonds that we form with the marketing figures of our childhoods, German or otherwise. It's like what Barthes says about Einstein's brain. Or something.

Yesterday I watched Fawlty Towers with Rock and her Dad. It's one of those cult shows that I've always meant to watch but never really have. It's really funny. I love the British. I think I have a dormant British comedy gene. Can genes be dormant? If not, imagine the correct biology terms in place of those ones. I'm also happy about the moves the Canucks made at a trade deadline. I'm a little disappointed that our new Finnish goalie (Mika Noronen) doesn't have any double vowels in his name, like Miikka Kiprusoff or Antero Niitymaki. Oh well, name spelling only accounts for about 4-8% of a goalie's skill anyway.

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