A good day with a hint of sadness
Overall it was a good day. Hung out with Ryon, and my passport arrived, and I attended a meeting for the Oxford trip. Sending off letters to relatives tomorrow.
But it had two shitty notes.
The lesser is the fact that, for some reason, there was a screwup with UfT over one of my first semester courses, and I'm recorded as having a diferred exam for it. No one knows why. Apparently the SDF (Special Differed Final) code is only given when you have a big, legitimate reason not to be at the exam (funeral for a member of immediate family, severe illness, etc.). There's just one catch: I wrote the exam. At the same time as everyone else. The Arts & Science registrar's office agrees with me: there is no logical reason that I should still not have my mark from that course. If it turns out that my exam was lost, I think I may kill someone, because there's no way in hell I'm taking it again if it was lost, and it was, by far, my best performance in the course because I'd done two weeks of constant, serious studying leading up to it. It was an easy exam! Dammit.
The nastier note is that I killed a pigeon today. Hah hah, laugh if you want. I try to stick to a creed not to kill. I'll eat meat, becuase in my own craven way I don't have a problem with other people killing it for me. But I try not to kill. Even insects. But a pigeon flew into my front wheel while I was riding through Nathan Phillips Square today. Its wing broke and got caught in the wheel, and it was flung under the back tire of my bike. Then it flapped around on the ground for a minute or two until some homeless guy in a Santa hat and no shirt picked it up, somehow calmed it down a bit, and handed it to me. We both knew the bird was going to die. I crushed at least one of its wings, if not its spine. There was no way this pigeon was going to live out more than another hour or two, and even those in intense pain.
So I killed it. I looked at the guy and I said, "I guess I should kill it, end its pain". So I gently took its head, and quickly twisted it a full 360 until I felt the neck snap. I remember the feathers. So soft, like down. Like a dog's ears, soft and pleasent. I could feel the life going out of it. I could almost feel its pain.
But I feel like shit now. Because I killed something. I broke the code I tried to hold myself to. Even if it was for mercy.
Yeah, I washed my hands immediatly afterwards. Soap and water as hot as the tap could put it out. Washed my keys as well, and I didn't touch the bike handle with the fingers I used to touch the bird.
I have no idea why I'm feeling so bad over one bird. There are thousands more like it all over the city. But looking at it there in the guy's hands, so small and fragile...dammit. It just didn't seem fair to it.
But it had two shitty notes.
The lesser is the fact that, for some reason, there was a screwup with UfT over one of my first semester courses, and I'm recorded as having a diferred exam for it. No one knows why. Apparently the SDF (Special Differed Final) code is only given when you have a big, legitimate reason not to be at the exam (funeral for a member of immediate family, severe illness, etc.). There's just one catch: I wrote the exam. At the same time as everyone else. The Arts & Science registrar's office agrees with me: there is no logical reason that I should still not have my mark from that course. If it turns out that my exam was lost, I think I may kill someone, because there's no way in hell I'm taking it again if it was lost, and it was, by far, my best performance in the course because I'd done two weeks of constant, serious studying leading up to it. It was an easy exam! Dammit.
The nastier note is that I killed a pigeon today. Hah hah, laugh if you want. I try to stick to a creed not to kill. I'll eat meat, becuase in my own craven way I don't have a problem with other people killing it for me. But I try not to kill. Even insects. But a pigeon flew into my front wheel while I was riding through Nathan Phillips Square today. Its wing broke and got caught in the wheel, and it was flung under the back tire of my bike. Then it flapped around on the ground for a minute or two until some homeless guy in a Santa hat and no shirt picked it up, somehow calmed it down a bit, and handed it to me. We both knew the bird was going to die. I crushed at least one of its wings, if not its spine. There was no way this pigeon was going to live out more than another hour or two, and even those in intense pain.
So I killed it. I looked at the guy and I said, "I guess I should kill it, end its pain". So I gently took its head, and quickly twisted it a full 360 until I felt the neck snap. I remember the feathers. So soft, like down. Like a dog's ears, soft and pleasent. I could feel the life going out of it. I could almost feel its pain.
But I feel like shit now. Because I killed something. I broke the code I tried to hold myself to. Even if it was for mercy.
Yeah, I washed my hands immediatly afterwards. Soap and water as hot as the tap could put it out. Washed my keys as well, and I didn't touch the bike handle with the fingers I used to touch the bird.
I have no idea why I'm feeling so bad over one bird. There are thousands more like it all over the city. But looking at it there in the guy's hands, so small and fragile...dammit. It just didn't seem fair to it.
posted by Derek the Bard at 11:46 p.m.
1 Comments:
Oooh. That's harsh, man. I really feel for you there. I thought you meant you rolled over it and it cacked, but... Oooh, sorry.
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