In other news, besides a sudden outburst on my xanga, I think it's time to start looking for a new apartment.  I believe that I have until the end of May to move out.  I have discovered a number of things about apartments:

+ Yonge/Lawrence is a sweet area to live.
- Being by yourself isn't always that great.
+ Being by yourself is a lot of fun sometimes.
+ Living alone is expensive.
- Living away from Tyndale means very few visits from Tyndale peeps.
- An hour commute isn't very fun when you have to go to work/school every day of the week.
+ Metropasses are fantastic assets to own.
+ A place to yourself is much easier to keep clean...most of the time.  :S
- Crazy neighbours make life monstrous.
- Boredom becomes your second name when you are super busy and live a fair distance from friends.
- Basements are depressing.

The above discoveries are by no means exhaustive, I could continue, but doing so would cause me to be even more mopey than I already am.  Besides, if I can't find a place, I'll have to stay here and I don't want to have to come back to this post and be reminded about how much my commuter/bachelor status isn't all that it's cracked up to be.  Anyway, if you hear anything about available apartments, please let me know.

I am a life lesson.

Last week I was heading to school and I took my usual route to the Bedford Park Ave entrance of the Yonge/Lawrence subway station.  It was raining mildly and I was enjoying the strange spring-like weather that we were having.  When I got to the subway entrance a middle-aged woman began to take the stairs at a very slow pace.  I decided to pass her on the left with a determined pace of my own.  About 1/4 of the way down the stairs I saw a man and his son coming up the stairs and I decided to hurry up a bit so that I could pass the lady and get out of their way.

Well, that's when I lost my footing and began to slip down the stairs.  I fell approximately two stairs and then proceeded to get up again.  But, instead of finding some sure footing on the slick stairs I fell again, this time getting a little closer to the man and his son.  I remember it all in slow motion; my feet slipped out from under me once again and I was in that too-familiar state of falling.  This time, however, the man pulled his son away from my seemingly-slow descent with the force of a mother about to lose her child, carriage and all, to the unstoppable carnage of a railway train bearing down full-speed upon them.

I stopped falling.  In fact, I had only slipped another 2 or 3 steps down the entrance.  A little disoriented, I looked at the man.  Instead of offering a hand to help me up, he began to lecture his son on the importance of taking subway stairs carefully when they are wet, otherwise he would end up falling and scraped like the man in front of them.  In indignation, I huffed and told him rather scowlingly "Thank you _so_ much for the help." and stomped away down the remainder of the stairs - angry that he had neglected to help me up after I had tried to hurry up and get out of the way on the stairs.

As I sat on the subway train, heading north to Finch, I began laughing hysterically to myself as I realized the humour in the situation.  Besides a bruise to my ego, a scraped finger, and some mud on my pants, I realized that I had paid a relatively small price to be a positive lesson in the life of a youngster - even if it was just to take his time on wet, slippery stairs.