As I sit here listening to Canadian indie rock

CBC Radio 3, an Internet radio station accessible through iTunes (also on Sirius satellite radio, and on the Web), plays so much good music. Canadian indie rock is excellent. It’s through this station that I recently discovered The Weakerthans and their song “Civil Twilight,” whose lyrics I posted earlier. I can’t stop listening to it.

I did a lot of laundry today and now I can finally wear all the clothes I bought over the past two weekends. Also, and perhaps most importantly, I found a pair of fluffy, white sweatpants. While ordinarily this would account for no special mention, it is a little-known fact that I have been searching the world for such a pair of pants since probably sophomore year of high school. My jubilation at this discovery is beyond rational explanation.

So, I’m sick. I’ve been sick. Some kind of cold: fatigue, sinus congestion, coughing, runny/stuffy nose, muscle aches. Must be a viral thing, I suppose. I went out and bought some orange juice, soup, Tylenol, and Vicks VapoRub. Except they didn’t stock regular Tylenol at Weshop, and brand-name VapoRub was $13, while at Walgreen’s, the generic version (which, I must add, had the exact same ingredients in the exact same concentrations) was only $4.50.

Speaking of Weshop, the prices this year seem even more ridiculous than they were last year. Two cans of soup (not even a good soup, due to Weshop’s poor selection of “normal-people” foods), a carton of orange juice, and generic acetaminophen cost me 15 points. Robbery!

This year, especially, there seems to exist a noxious lack of manners on this campus. (And possibly in society in general, though I notice it less while at home.) By manners, I don’t even mean nitpicky things like table manners (I’ll admit, I don’t have those to the extent I would like), but rather a more general concern for others—common courtesy. Holding doors, saying “excuse me”, not cutting others in lines, not blatantly shoving people out of your way with neither an attempt at polite request nor an apology for rude physical contact. Oh, my. Parents need to slap their kids a bit more—or at least instill in them the behaviors that make living in a society tolerable and, dare I say, enjoyable.

Anyway, aside from this stupid illness, things are going pretty well. Driving places on the weekends makes me happy. Connecticut is so beautiful, even as seen from the highways. Lush, green hills surrounding the sloping valleys, ponds gently rippling with the breeze as you drive by. It’s so nice. As was the beach the other night, after we finally found it (with the help of iPhone). Though I wish we’d stayed longer. There was something so post-apocalyptic about it, especially looking out to the east and its pitch-blackness at three in the morning. The sand under the sodium vapor lamps had this weird cast to it, every little ripple in the sand casting a shadow filled with darkness and mystery. An open car door with no one inside. No one around, anywhere. Dozens of empty beach chairs.

I’m tired now. It’s time to smear some more Walgreen’s brand Vaporizing Chest Rub on myself, do some Latin homework, and go to bed. Good night.