On The End of School and the Start of Academia

Well, it’s over. It’s really, truly over.

Yesterday, I received my final marks for the term on this thingy called ROSI that orders the stars in the cosmos and the flimsy lives of man, which means yarp, there’s nothing else for me to do. Not even sit in front of a screen hitting ‘refresh’ over and over and crying pitifully over question nine in the short answer section. I have been home (that is, the insane cabin in the woods surrounded by acres and acres of plaid) for a week now, and it has been one of those lazy wonderful accomplish-fucking-nothing weeks. Here’s how it goes.

Monday: Wake up heinously early and write English exam. Emerge from English exam, mewling about hand cramp (Any university students reading will nod gravely and say, ‘hand cramp has affected me, too. It took my aunt and my grandmother. Remember, you don’t need to suffer alone.’), and walk through rainstorm to future apartment to finalize details with landlady. She now thinks I’m a sea witch. She’s too nice to say, but I know. Get taken out for pizza by my great friend, the nonpareil K.

WAIT. I must pause for food porn. 

Normally, when someone offers to take you out for pizza, you expect Pizza Pizza. K is not that kind of a dude. Nooo indeed. The place we went was so fancy that I’m surprised I didn’t spontaneously combust upon crossing the threshold for the crime of wearing muddy runners. That’s an exaggeration, but not by much. We started with spiced breadsticks, prosciutto, fancy salami and several kinds of hard cheese, with nuts and honey. From there we proceeded onward to thin-crust gourmet pizza: More prosciutto, mozzarella, gorgonzola, specks and baked pears. Baked fucking pears. All this was underscored by a bottle of rich, velvety Barolo that was better than any wine I’d ever had. We split it between the two of us and got slightly tiddly. It was the most enjoyable night in recent memory. End food porn here.

With the help of an old schoolfriend, I caught a ride home the next day. On the way we watched the Phineas and Ferb movie with her little sister. I was considerably more excited for it than her sister was. Since then, I’ve spent the last week stooging around the house watching Downton Abbey, reading Game of Thrones and starting work on the webcomic that will probably be running my life for the rest of this summer. To give you a quick pimp:

Disclaimer: Most of the comic art will be lazier and worse than this.

‘Academia’ is a working title, but I may end up sticking with it. Anybody who gets the joke on the skinny fellow’s shirt gets a big mental hug. Alright, fine, I’ll give you a clue. If there was an ‘N’ instead of an ‘As” at the centre of that compound, then it would be called a Nitrole. As it is… C’mon, you can figure it out. Not to give too much away, the plot involves the tension between the arts and the sciences in universities, Dante’s Inferno, and, of course, an octopus. It will be published, with a little luck, starting in September.

I am now in Montreal, sitting in my brother’s apartment while he watches a review of a terrible movie. My brother takes delight in all things awful. He knows every line of ‘Troll 2’ and ‘Manos, the Hands of Fate’ and reads bad fanfiction on youtube as a long-term pastime. He is my sounding-board for the webcomic.

Tomorrow I’ll be heading home to Ottawa in order to return to my position as service industry zombie. I’ll try not to complain about that too much, because the worst I can really say about that job is that doing dishes is gross and it gives me new motivation to finish my education.