1000 r.p.m.

By "r.p.m." we mean "scheduled events". I'm very excited this week to report that I have:

Been to the Death Cab for Cutie concert - so many, many fourteen-year-old emo kids! Katherine and I were two of the eight people there old enough to have a beer to enjoy with the music. Death Cab is genius at making you hover just at the border of crying, with that uncomfortable tight little bubble in your chest. Their music is simultaneously lush and simple, and their lyrics are gorgeous;

Experienced Katherine's birthday. It was quite small, but a couple of people went out to Barrymore's after a failed attempt to visit Saunders' Farm. Apparently anywhere outside of Ottawa is Amish country and everything closes at five on Sundays even when it is clearly stated on the website and in telephone conversations that they are open until eleven. Hiss. But there is still birthday cake and many exciting things happened;

Passed my economics midterm quite handsomely;

Handed in an international affairs mini-paper (5 pages only! Hooray);

Attended the Rocky Horror Picture Show and had a fantastic time, despite the sad absence of Jacob due to a scheduling mishap involving me being an idiot and him not being home to receive my phone calls to change plans (Goodbye, all this! Hello, oblivion!);

Worked an insane day at the Solar Conference, which is going quite well so far, I believe, but I'm not in today. Poor Krista and Sharon are going to have to do without me not knowing where anything is or how to find registration packages;

Gone to classes. Yes;

Anyway. This weekend there are further birthday parties, because apparently in order to be my friend you have to have emerged from the womb within three weeks of Hallowe'en. And on Sunday Katherine and I are going to Montreal (!) for the day (!!) to see the Decemberists concert (!!!). We'll be back that night, though, because the buses run until midnight.

And here are some pictures. First, pumpkin carving:

Death Cab for Cutie:

We are emo:

K-dawg's birthday (here, Jay displays classic traits of pyromania):

Anyway, I'm off to the National Library to perform for choir! Toodle-oo, all.