rhetorical analysis.

That title up there is the current English assignment I should be working on. Eeeeenh.

Driving home tonight, I totally saw a cyclist biking while smoking. One-handed cycling seems to fall into the same category as cell-phone driving. That's just irresponsible. The Du Maurier made that man a wobbler, lemme tell you - sketchy shit. I guess the best part was his full-fledged commitment to being seen: reflective safety vest, blinking LED light strapped to his helmet, hurricane proofed rain gear also decorated with reflective tape. Something here seems counterproductive. Can you guess what it is?

Now, the real reason I've decided to blog tonight, is that I have this hankering to tell you about Kathryn P. Kathy is in my first year creative writing course. She's usually late for class, which is the only reason why I noticed her at all during our first semester of study. Well, in our creative non-fiction section, Kathryn decided to constantly sit directly behind me, no matter which seat in our very large lecture hall I decided to sit. Well, as luck would have it, we were all called upon to work in pairs with the closest person to us - in Kathryn's case, me. So we did the awkward greeting thing and got down to business, casually interviewing each other for a peer profile assignment. She asked me basic questions like "how old are you?" and "where are you from?" - easy to answer and straight forward, I didn't provide her with very much meat for her potatoes. But then it was my turn to interview, and I discovered some very interesting things about Kathryn.

If I had to guess, I'd say she's 32. She's never been to university before, but she's been in a professor's pants. Continually. Like, for six years. As a now divorcee, she left her M.I.T. professor husband to come to reap the spoils of Canadian education, shacking up with her parents up island before making the fateful move to the southern tip. She lived in Europe for many years, marrying her former hubby in Italy as sneaky-ass means to get into France. She didn't really divulge too much about that little detail, but I have a feeling the French government is after her, so I let it be. She still wears her wedding band and engagement ring, now on her left hand, which makes me feel like maybe she's not quite over skipping out on her other half. Guilt is a bitch, isn't it? There were some other snippets she shared, but nothing interesting enough to capture my attention. I drew pictures of Shrek in notepad while she blabbed about willow trees to me.

Looking at Kathryn, shit's been rough. Her skin's all haggard and her chin looks burnt, as if she's made some half-assed attempt at shaving a girl-beard with a dull Bic razor. Her tongue is pierced, something I'm sure occurred post-marriage. I wish someone would tell her that tongue piercings don't look good on anyone, especially 30-something divorcees who claim to be into books and the smell of leaves. Her hair is a sort of rusty colour, usually pulled back awkwardly into a ponytail with a hair band.

So, ever since fate intervened with my quiet existence in writing 100, I think Kathryn likens us to be friends? On three occasions she followed me out of class and gabbed away at how her weekend was and what she thinks of our assignment. Once she followed me all the way to the bus stop and then was like "oh, you're leaving." And so I said "yeah, I'm going home on the bus now. That was kind of the plan." Awkward silence.

Last class, Kathryn must have been trying to get my attention for a while, but I couldn't hear her through the music coming from my iPod. She finally put her hand on my shoulder, which freaked the fuck out of me because nobody ever touches me at work where I actually know and like people, let alone at school where I know literally one person and mostly wanna crack skulls all day long. She proceeded to ask me about my reading break, which I described as mediocre.

"Aw, that's too bad. I went to Vancouver and saw my friends from a long time ago. And like, I spent a lot of time on my couch and watched a bunch of chick flicks and ate like, such good food. And like, I went to the Olympics and saw some weird events and like, I didn't really want to see them but I already had the tickets. Yeah, I just did a lot of partying. Ha."

Run-on sentence. Verbal diarrhea. Oh, Kathryn. You're the most entertaining non-friend I've got. Sweet.