...old playgrounds, new people...

Today was one of those days where things just seem a little bit off.

It might have been the fact that I participated in some productive work towards my thesis that threw me off, as that has been quite the anomaly around these parts recently. I did everything I was taught, even starting the day out right with a balanced breakfast of low-fat, high-protein options (just overlook the croissant), and I was even out the door by 9am. I walked to the public library, disappointed to find out it doesn't open until 10am, but decided to head to the Trent Library since I had a small, Green Book to photocopy and return. I had to return the book today, because tomorrow I have a training course from 10am-3pm...or so I thought.

It's always strange returning to the Trent Campus firstly, because I've been away from it for so long, and secondly because well, I'm not actually a student there anymore. Also, who knew the library and campus were so quiet at 9:30am on a weekday? I certainly didn't when I was a student. Waiting for the Trent Express bus inside the double sliding doors of Champlain College, I remembered how loyal and paternalistic one can feel towards a university; I remembered I did. Passing Traill College, I marveled at how so much at the university could change, yet Wallis Hall still has those ugly blue curtains on the windows that I'm fairly certain adorned the windows of the first college residents at the end of the 1960s. On second thought, those blue curtains probably made their debut in the 1980s. I'd imagine the curtains of the 60s and 70s were much more retro and geometric.



Yeah. Just like that.

The student population at Trent has doubled since I first attended in 2000. But, 8 years later, the blue curtains remain. It's good to see that some things are a priority. Or an oversight. Whatever.

So I left library 'A' and moved to library 'B,' a more central choice, complete with homey 'cafe' serving homemade sandwiches and coffee. I still have my Peterborough Public Library card. I'm a trooper. I bought my first cup of 'tea. Earl Grey. Hot.' from the homey cafe and settled into my alcove for the afternoon. I pulled out my agenda, just to take a look at my week ahead and see if there was anything I needed to add in...and realised I was supposed to be at the "Person-Centred Support" training session today, not tomorrow. Aww, crap.

I called my program manager to admit my mistake, but she was unavailable and I left a message on her machine. I was worried that I'd be viewed as irresponsible and that perhaps this particular training session was important. My program manager hasn't called me back yet...so it couldn't have been that imperative. I did receive a call from our team leader, and I thought it may have been concerning my absence...not so. He just wanted to give me another shift. I wrote the new shift down in my agenda, but hey, no promises I'll actually make it in that day.

This is only the first half of my day.

The second half, the public library portion, is beyond amusing. As some of you will know, I talk to myself a bit, but generally, I'll only talk to myself if I'm standing in front of a mirror. It's a family trait. I blame genetics. Ok, well, me talking to myself doesn't even compare to the weird behaviour I encountered at the library.

Things were fairly normal for the first hour or so. Occasionally I'd make the loud huffing sighing noise I make while reading something 'academic', interspersed with an odd 'huh' if I find something particularly interesting. After one of my grunts, the girl sitting across from me looked up and said 'finally found something interesting, eh?" to which I intelligently replied "uh, yeah. Something like that." And then back to my article on Sierra Leone's lumpenproletariat revolution. I didn't even make the word up. I swear. Following that comment, the flood gates of conversation were opened, and all the crazies started talking. I have no idea about half of what one guy was talking about, but he definitely went on and on about cell phones for a good 10 mins after the girl across from me had a conversation with her mother on speaker phone, since she couldn't actually figure out how to work her cell phone. About another hour later, the girl across from me asked me what I was working on...I mumbled through something about civil wars, Sierra Leone and a thesis. She asked me if it was for college or university. "Uh, for university. For my Master's." She raised her eyebrows.

"Want to read a love letter to my former boss?"

I'm not even kidding, she said that out loud. And then she gave me two sheets of green paper full of (very nice) handwriting to read through. The love letter wasn't that bad, as a matter of fact. She did assure me when she handed it over that it was 'totally fine. No sex, or anything." Phew. I was worried. Actually, I suppose it wasn't bad as far as love letters to former bosses go. She was also applying to a new job (which is part of what the phone conversation to her mother was about) and had an interview later that week. I asked her if this former boss was one of her references. She said yes. I suggested it might be better to hand the letter to him after she got the reference.

She gave me a weird look for working on my Master's thesis. She was writing a love letter to her boss. Which one of us is stranger?

Alright, so that was really the height of the weirdness. The strange guy a few tables over started talking again after love letter girl left, and after he left, another strange man replaced him. This one struck up conversation asking me if I was a student but didn't give me a strange look for saying I was working on my Master's. He gave me a strange look for saying I attend Dalhousie University. Well, we can't have it all, can we? He then told me he was just trying to get his grade 12 and then was planning on returning to B.C to attend Simon Fraser University. Here are some of the other things I learned about this man:

• His father is a law professor at the University of Victoria
• His parents are from England - in fact he was born in England. People from England like to live in B.C because the climate is similar. It rains a lot.
• He doesn't find Physics very difficult
• He wants to be an Engineering Physicist.
• Housing in B.C is really expensive. He owns a condo there that's he's renting now. Thank goodness he bought before the housing market skyrocketed. You can't get a house for under $500K now.
• His girlfriend in B.C was cheating on him, so his Aunt suggested he move out to Ontario and finish his GED. No, she doesn't live in Peterborough, she lives in Welland.
• He might go to Queen's, actually. He's just not sure. They have a good physics program.
• Peterborough doesn't have an adult education program. He has to drive to Oshawa for his classes.
• He thinks I should move out west to Alberta because they are just 'crying' for teachers there.
  

At this point, it was 3pm, and I gave up. I came home and decided to write it all down. Now it's 4:30pm and I think I need a nap.

Living other people's lives is exhausting. But hey! Look at how much I can learn about other people without saying more than a few sentences. And I remembered it all.

With these skills, I should be a spy.