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So today I perused the cluster dorms at Uvic, in a bid to scope out the possibilities for living there. I like them - they share many similiarities with my first apartment, yet with a lot more in the way of a supporting framework: $540 a month, utilities all paid for, laundry machines close by; a dishwasher, if a shitty one by all accounts, and a living space. Bike lockers, private cubbyholes, smaller room but with a supplied desk and furniture. Students all around, some noisy, some hideous to live with, but mostly agreeable according to my guide. Have to get in on the housing situation pronto seeing as it's been out for a month. Giving notice to my landlady this Saturday and seeing if I can use my neurological diagnosis for some leverage in the race for housing.

I am at the library in a bid to condemn the parrot for a couple more hours of desolation, screeching and crying in a house with no answer, with no one to respond to its demand for social comfort. I take immense demonic pleasure in knowing that there's a very good chance that the landlady has not returned, and that neurotic winged devil now writhes in Kafka-esque loneliness and heartbreak - a fitting punishment for depriving me of yet one more hour of blissful slumber. And in this chair, upon this table I write and am content, though the library is awash with primary school students freshly unleashed from their institutionalized educational facilities. (Also, some of the library employee are quite pretty, which pleases my sex-fixated mental capacities.)

Now I have to write out that application. Can't spend too long captivated by the internet, I have work to do, and approximately three hours before my computer battery runs out or I find an outlet close by... (hey, there's one.) The headphones I brought with me are too small for the computer, which makes me sad, but oh well, I'll do without. And I have a couple things to write up, but those are tied to my roleplaying hobbies and are not essential to my long-term future goals.

I'm using my bike for a lot more things, so much that setting aside a weekly allowance for bus money is no longer fruitful. It is no longer convenient, but rather a convenience, a luxury for cloudy weather and tired legs. My bike can beat traffic, it can go at the speed I set for it, and it does not wait for other passengers. On good days it can outrun buses or at least keep up with them, and indeed it serves as a potent motivational tool to beat the transit system on my own body's stamina. The private trainer is goading my body to a miraculous recovery, though I dread our thrice-weekly sessions.

The weather outside is rather ridiculous. At first I wondered if it was worth it to ride with a sweatshirt considering the warm weather, and just as I leave Uvic I feel a couple droplets of water land on me. Only a couple minutes later I find myself under a gloomy raincloud, beating down on my skin and clothes and computer bag, and I briefly glance uncomprehendingly towards the sky. What the fuck, Victoria? I think to myself. Is the Tweed Curtain in Oak Bay somehow affecting our weather forecasts? Are we trying to be London weather?!

It looks sunny now, but that is hardly a guarrantee. Somewhere out there storm clouds brew in anticipation of amiable young bikers like myself. I only have to step outside for them to seek me out and drench me further. There is no escape.

Anyway, work to do. Signing off.

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Rainspirit

May 2013

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