"do you ever have the feeling when you're in this building that something bad is going to happen? I mean, this is the kind of building you die in." my english prof always has some joyous tidbits to brighten our day. it's true. sid smith is the kind of building you die in - though, I imagine it would be more of a slow, despairing, asbestos-induced, gradual departure from sanity death than the hacked into pieces by a bloody ax after years in a dark, dank dungeon death that would happen at uc, for instance.
we were discussing an assigned short story entitled the lottery, a delightful little tale about stoning and blind obedience to tradition, and the conversation turned to pigeons.
student: "I never eat pigeon eggs."
professor: "you hope. dining halls have to cut costs somehow."
I went home feeling rather optimistic for the future of mankind, and in reading my childhood psychopathology textbook, learned that the percentage of priests serving between 1950 and 2002 who sexually abused a child outweighs the percentage of applicants accepted to medical schools in ontario this year by a factor of approximately two.