it has started to snow here ... it really takes me back.
I have a diary/sketchy-book thing. It is unbearably lame, festooned with things that were definitely not festoons, and includes plenty of lists, badly designed desks and clothes that no man or woman could ever possibly fit into as well as an occasional entry.
I made this diary/sketchy-book thing the first time I was in Montreal (2003?) and then did not use it again until I came back for the summer of 2006. It was weird reading the entries from the first time and realising that my fears, desires, goals (or lack thereof), etc. were pretty much the same. three years had passed and some of the new entries felt verbatim to the old entries.
I didn't feel the same, but when I wrote I apparently was the same. It was disconcerting but a little reassuring. I could be pretty sure that I was still me.
I am aware of it now and, like that dalmatian appearing in the splotches, I can't not be aware of it. It informs any personal writing I do - I always wonder if I am thinking the same and, being inherently contrary, it causes me to try and think differently. Or at least fake it 'till I make it.
The point: the writings were always about finding some purpose. I seem absolutely addicted to purpose, to moving forward, to tangible accomplishment. I hope one day I can not feel that way. can a goal of mine really be to become goal-less? is that allowed?
maybe goal-less is the wrong sentiment. maybe it is content where I am, rather than content in my ambition. endless streams of frailty make me question ambition. ambition may have failed us. but I so desperately want to go into space.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Saturday, November 17, 2007
Done
After about 2 and a half months of applying and another 2 months of MCAT preparation, I finally submitted my last application. It was to McGill and in typical Matt fashion, was submitted at 11:54pm for a deadline of 11:59pm.
Right down to the line. Now, I feel much more relaxed. It is, to some extent, out of my hands. I have to interview still, but that seems less important than actually getting the interview.
Anyway, today I just wandered around, ecstatic in my freedom. I didn't do much of anything. I bought two pairs of shoes.
I also came across a major Christmas parade, forcing its way through the most busy shopping street in Montreal. It is, in case you were unsure, mid November. I had just wrapped my head around the Christmas decorations replacing witches on November 1st and now this. Woe is me.
I am sure the reason is to save the poor little fingers of the baton twirling elves, but still, they should suck it up for realism. Elves die in snowless conditions. It is their cross to bear.
The reason that I actually came on here is to discuss waving at parades. Why do people on floats feel the need to wave? How has this come about. In original parades, I assume based on pretty much no knowledge, were for famous people who had, you know, done something interesting. All people on floats have done is to be on that float. Why are they waving and why do we feel like waving back?
I think that people on parades should do their dancing and singing and whatever, but they should not wave unless they see someone they actually know in the crowd and only if totally necessary (waving to a single person in the crush of a crowd could lead to a misunderstanding, a returned wave from a confused bystander, prompting its own return wave from the float person, who is now some distance down the road and thus presenting the wave to a whole new set of potential mis-wavers. It could result in disaster. Actually, that is probably what always happens. A parade starts, someone in the parade recognises someone in the crowd, an errant wave results in mass waving that only ends days after the parade is over).
umm, yeah.
Right down to the line. Now, I feel much more relaxed. It is, to some extent, out of my hands. I have to interview still, but that seems less important than actually getting the interview.
Anyway, today I just wandered around, ecstatic in my freedom. I didn't do much of anything. I bought two pairs of shoes.
I also came across a major Christmas parade, forcing its way through the most busy shopping street in Montreal. It is, in case you were unsure, mid November. I had just wrapped my head around the Christmas decorations replacing witches on November 1st and now this. Woe is me.
I am sure the reason is to save the poor little fingers of the baton twirling elves, but still, they should suck it up for realism. Elves die in snowless conditions. It is their cross to bear.
The reason that I actually came on here is to discuss waving at parades. Why do people on floats feel the need to wave? How has this come about. In original parades, I assume based on pretty much no knowledge, were for famous people who had, you know, done something interesting. All people on floats have done is to be on that float. Why are they waving and why do we feel like waving back?
I think that people on parades should do their dancing and singing and whatever, but they should not wave unless they see someone they actually know in the crowd and only if totally necessary (waving to a single person in the crush of a crowd could lead to a misunderstanding, a returned wave from a confused bystander, prompting its own return wave from the float person, who is now some distance down the road and thus presenting the wave to a whole new set of potential mis-wavers. It could result in disaster. Actually, that is probably what always happens. A parade starts, someone in the parade recognises someone in the crowd, an errant wave results in mass waving that only ends days after the parade is over).
umm, yeah.
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