Grandma and Grandpa

by Nic Olson

For my birthday my Grandma and Grandpa sent me $100 of iTunes cards, and you likely knew that already. I contacted most people I know, or at least those whose music opinion I respect, asking for recommendations as to what I should buy. Check my music page to see if your recommendation has made my playlist yet. I still have some music to buy, but don’t want to rush it. I hear the new Rihanna is great though…

Along with a birthday card and the iTunes cards they sent me this note. I received similar notes from sister and mother so my first birthday away from home wasn’t as pathetic as I assumed it would be. There would be no point to be sad or miss home, because I moved here by choice. I’m not imprisoned or living oppressed, although French school feels like hell sometimes. But notes like this are pretty sweet when I daily question my purpose in being here, at least I’ve got a few people back home, who although know I’m wasting my life on hockey games and writing poetry, don’t mind and still send messages.

I’ve had an empty apartment for a week. Just me, shirtless, my computer, the neighbour Gilles every now and then, and twenty-four bagels.  There are only eleven bagels left. I have done little to no writing, aside from this, and another bad poem about the neighbourhood. I’ve done little to nothing productive, besides studying my French for a total of two hours, because a friend is going to be taking up all my study time next weekend as we watch Habs games, ride roller coasters, eat too much, go to concerts and Hindi films. It is good to know that even at my most pathetic, shirtless at 4pm eating plain bagels with no intention of productivity, playing air guitar to Continuance, my Grandma and Grandpa still like me even when I don’t like myself. I can hope anyway.

Oh, excuse me, I’ve got to go take a nap for three hours before I stream the football game and eat expiring food that isn’t mine, I can’t possibly come up with a proper ending to this post. Until next time.