William Matheson (nova_one) wrote,
William Matheson
nova_one

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Being Poor Compared To The Residence Kiddies

For starters, I want to tell you that I enjoy walking 25 minutes to the bus stop in the morning, and that I really enjoy the 20 minutes back in the evening (faster and more comfortable because my limbs are looser in the evenings). It's physically affirming. It lets me know that I am a living, breathing, human being, if by any chance I wasn't able to figure that out by the infrequency with which I update my journals.

What I do not like about my commute is that it leaves my nice winter jacket smelling like sweat and rotten vegetables. Having one of these smells about you is bad. Having both becomes closer to x^2 than 2x if you know what I mean.

The rotten vegetables scent comes from the end of this past Summer when my mother let a bag of onions rot in the kitchen coat closet. Anyway, that got dealt with and it was a great relief to find the source of the smell and clean it up. My stepgrandmother Bernice did this because I was always out (it was Frosh Leader Camp / Frosh Week), my mother was in Cape Breton, and Paul (my stepfather) has MS and can't deal things like that anymore.

Now, you're going to ask me if I washed my coat. You're damn right I did. But the rotting scent would keep coming back every time I broke a sweat. However, in the Fall semester it wasn't really noticeable. But now that I have to wear the liner - ugh! I feel so gross. So right now, I'm washing the damn coat again. I had to wait for the timing to be right; the weather's warm(er) now (-5 to -10 instead of -20 to -25) so I can get away with just wearing the shell, which dries really quickly. No, we don't have a dryer.

Did I ever tell you we were poor? I'm not complaining, and I like walking to the bus because doing otherwise all the time would be irresponsible. I figure I'm doing my part to help Canada fulfill our Kyoto Protocol obligations. And the racks and lines can dry your clothes well enough if you plan ahead and don't need your clothes in the next day-and-a-half.

And I should be glad I'm even going to university. If it wasn't for my grandparents on both sides, I would be SOL. I am the luckiest person I know to be so damn poor but still graduate with no debt. Now I just need to work on the, "What next?" I'm going to apply to the one year B.Jour. program at King's (the small university within the confines of Dalhousie's Studley Campus). Of course, they seem to want pansies who will tell them that it's been their lifelong dream to be a Journalist, people who can sent them 65 print clippings, people who are already hosting their own public radio shows. To be honest, I can't compete. The best I can say is that I was writing SmackDown! reports for the LAW for much of Spring 2003. Of course, I do have some Journal (the Saint Mary's University student newspaper) clippings from this academic year, including my (in)famous U-Pass Op-Ed. You can bet they'll be going along in the envelope.

I think I can swing this. If not, I guess there's always Hamburger University. But the girl I adore has told me that she won't marry anyone who's poor, financially responsible or no. I've got a lot of work ahead of me, but work is healthy, and I'm determined to see this through.

More on tonight in another entry.
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