Well, I've finally decided to make headway on this blog. I don't know if anyone out there is reading it or not, but whatever. This is for me.
I'm hanging out at the Starbucks on Bloor Street West that is the weekly location for coffee with my friends - I say coffee, but not all of us purchase the expensive coffee they serve here. Why bother when you can get BETTER coffee at Tim Horton's? Thank God I'm seated with my back against the wall and facing the counter, because if the employees saw me typing this, I'm certain I'd get the stinkeye, at the very least :P But at any rate, I am here on a Sunday evening because working in my dorm or in Robarts library gets me absolutely nowhere - I tend to be on the Internet more often than not. Today, I've managed to get one of my essays 3/4 done and some difficult reading done, which is more than I've done this whole first week back to class.
I only have one class left over from last semester - Romantic Poetry and Prose. This is followed by 4 other new classes - Critical Methods, which focuses on Adorno and Benjamin's Frankfurt School in terms of pop culture today, Modern Drama to WWII, Drama 1660-1800 and South Asian Politics and Perspectives. That makes two English classes, two Drama-equivalent classes (technically, they're English classes, but I'm converting them to my Drama minor) and one elective class taken because I needed to fill up my breadth requirement.
It's hard to believe that I'm halfway through my third year at U of T - I love it so much here, I don't want it to end. Soon, I'll be applying to grad schools and then it'll be time to fend for myself in the real world. I'm still trying to figure out how I'm going to convince my conservative parents that I should live in Toronto on my own rather than back with them in Hong Kong. Seriously, if I have to, I might have myself committed. I refuse to live in Hong Kong to work, and then be married off to some "accomplished Sindhi boy from a good Sindhi family". Pass. Seriously, I'd rather not. It's hard enough lying to my parents about my life here in Toronto, considering I told them EVERYTHING growing up - which wasn't a big deal because I hadn't done anything rebellious as a kid. I was the typical good Sindhi daughter. The only thing that my parents disapproved of was my love of all junk food and my career choice of writer, and I twisted it around by giving them false hope that after studying English, I'd move on to Advertising. Ha.
Now, I'm a bicurious, budding author, poet and actress who does things on occasion that would have my mother ready to bring me back to Hong Kong by the next plane... and I wouldn't change me for the world. Except for the fact that I am, occasionally, insensitive to other people's requests, to the point that I will actually forget if you have specifically asked me to do something and unintentionally disregard it. That has, unfortunately, happened to me recently, and I am paying for it by the lack of friendship on the other person's part - they're quite irritated and upset with me, and I don't blame them. It wasn't my intention to upset them, and they are aware of that, but the fact of the matter is that their request was one that they had specifically asked of me, and I had agreed to. I shouldn't have forgotten. I have no excuse for it, and accept the fact that they are going to be angry with me for a while. However, because of it, my overactive imagination is going insane, bringing my fears to life - what if I'm never forgiven and lose this friendship, along with another's? How can I cope? I hate hurting my friends, why would I do this? I know I have to be patient, because sometimes people take time to forgive others and move on, but it's still hard...
At any rate, it's 8 pm on Sunday, and I have an essay due tomorrow morning, so I better get off this site and back to it.
Thanks for listening.
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