False Endings

As some of you may know, I'm finally reading The Hobbit. Before taking on this surprisingly tedious endeavour (I really should have read it approximately 15 years ago), I was reading Killing Yourself to Live by Chuck Klosterman. As I read this book a few months ago, I was listening to Metric's album Synthetica for the first time. Just as the album ended I realized I had come to the end of a chapter. This seemed a very minor coincidence in timing and did not register as more than a brief realization until I turned the page and quickly learned that the silence in my headphones signified the end of the book despite the collection of unread pages still remaining before the back cover.

I'm going back to tell this anecdote because I heard on the radio that this week is Pet Peeve Week. When people or situations that right now I couldn't actually reference require me to state a pet peeve, I can usually only think of one standby: when people say "seen" instead of "saw," but that's not really a pet peeve - I absolutely hate when people make that mistake. It insults me to my very core. Truthfully, I don't think I have any pet peeves because for me that term isn't a strong enough representation of how I feel about such scenarios. I'm either indifferent toward something (which is rare) or very passionate (or at least very passionately vocal) about something. A false ending in a book falls into the latter category.

A false ending is when the extras at the end of a book trick you into believing there is still more of the actual story to be enjoyed when you've reached the book's true ending. These extras include, but are not limited to, appendices or indexes, and excerpts from other books by the same author or publisher. The deception is not one I take lightly and it leaves an indelible mark on my otherwise enjoyable experience of the book.

On the surface, my anger toward these endings does center on the deception - the feeling of being duped - but I think the greater issue is the lack of closure that is created. Reading a book is an emotional investment, and we subconsciously prepare for the end. We feel the story arc winding down, the necessary loose ends are tied, the right amount of answers are left unknown so we feel the lives of the characters continue long after we return the book to the shelf, and we get ready to say goodbye. The promise made by the those extra pages gives us hope for just a little bit more before the end. Maybe there will be a epilogue. But then, when the end comes earlier than you anticipated, you are deprived of experiencing the true closure of the story.

I like to be prepared, and I like to be in control. When I read a book, I want to be surprised and moved by what the author has written, not by the book's tricky construction. An apocalypse, I should think, would bring about similar issues of closure. We would prepare for the end, but then suddenly find ourselves needing to cope with a post-apocalyptic existence that we assumed was merely a distant hope (or fear). Thinking about life beyond the end is a slippery slope but, alas, there's still something to be said for always being prepared...

UPDATE: Is the Housing Torture Over?

See original post: Is the Housing Torture Over?

Nine days have passed since a rental group toured our house, so I think I can safely say that our house has been rented (knock on wood). March is almost at its end, so I imagine that most people have secured their living arrangements for the 2010/2011 school year. If my assumption proves to be incorrect, I shall be VERY ANGRY! Don't you dare do that to me, universe.

My days in London are few, which I am simultaneously stressed and very happy about. My last class is April 8th and my only exam is April 22nd, then it's back home until I figure out my future plans. Moving should be quite the adventure...

Trouble Sleeping

Sleep has been a challenge for the past several days. I don't appreciate this.

Every night I go to sleep with the intent of waking up at a self-proclaimed "decent time" to get ready and do some work before class. But every night I lie in bed for hours, unable to fall asleep. I could go to bed at 11, 12, 1, 2, 3... The time doesn't seem to make a difference. My mind is suddenly filled with ideas: what to write for my humour journal, what to write my persuasive speech on, what to wear the next day, what shoes to wear to Formal on Thursday, what I'm going to do in a month. When I finally do fall asleep, I wake up multiple times before forcing myself awake in the morning with no energy for the day ahead.

This is nothing new for me. Unfortunately, I've had trouble sleeping since high school. It comes and goes. Perhaps I'm more stressed about finishing school than I was allowing myself to believe. I'm so excited for a (much needed) change and to actually start my life, so I've been trying to concentrate on that instead of the scary parts. In light of my new wave of insomnia, it seems that plan was only partially successful. You win this time, subconscious.

When you try you best but you don't succeed

When you get what you want, but not what you need

When you feel so tired but you can't sleep

Stuck in reverse

- Coldplay, "Fix You"

There's Nothing Funny About a "Royale with Cheese"

Some time has passed, yes, but am I in a better mental state? I'm going to have to answer no to that one. In fact, I believe my state has only gotten worse in the past two hours. And yet, not much work has been done. Intriguing. To keep you fully updated, I'm now suspecting my brain feels a little more like this Today's Big Thing video.

So. Very. Very. Wrong.

Once Every Fortnight I Exhale

|> IN

I can't get comfortable. I always feel on edge, anxious, unsettled. I'm blindfolded in front of a firing squad of archers who have drawn their bows and I'm just waiting. Every now and then someone on the squad coughs, shifts his weight from left to right, clears his throat. And every time I hear a noise I flinch. I tense my muscles. I hold my breath. But no arrow is ever fired. So I keep waiting.

I'm living minute to minute because I can't settle into a routine beyond going to class. I think once I read a book or watched a movie that said some people find this kind of existence exhilarating and liberating. I don't know who those people are. At best, I function in two-week periods, living and working for every other weekend. I get lost in that time (a fortnight is a long time, you know) so I put two countdowns on my Dashboard: one counting down to Christmas holidays, one counting down to the end of the school year/university. Turns out counting down the days makes time slow down. The only way to speed up time is to sleep more. Unfortunately, my insomnia and general aversion to going to sleep mean this is not a viable option for me.

Everyone keeps telling me I'll be fine. I know I'll be fine. I'm always fine. I've made it this far. But knowing I'll be fine doesn't negate the fact that I still have to do this. I have to live the next six months in this state of unrest, in this struggle against apathy. And so, there's only one thing left for me to do: leave a path of destruction in my restless wake.

Current location: London, ON - The University of Western Ontario

(Better wipe that smirk off your face, Sudbury, 'cause you're next. Get ready.)

I'll be fine. Yes. We'll all be fine.

<| OUT

Arc of Time

Today I took out a piece of paper and a pen and discovered I had nothing to write.

Yesterday I saw a really cute, trendy Asian couple wearing matching silver backpacks and it reminded me I had two sleeps until Friday and 198 sleeps until April 30th.

Tomorrow I will go to a class I hate and another frustrating project meeting and I'll try to stay calm because the rash on my neck is getting worse and my insomnia is back.