That's me, as soon as I get off work and done warping. And done studying philosophy. And doing devotions. And brushing my teeth and cleaning up my messes that I made today. I can't wait. I love sleep and I love my bed and I love my covers and I love that it's getting cold enough to need an extra blanket. There's something inherently wonderful about being able to curl up in tons of blankets. There's even something wonderful about jumping out into the cold in the morning. One, you can always snuggle back in the blankets for just one more minute. Two, you can reach over and grab your sweatshirt and wear that while you brush your teeth, until you get moving enough to be warm. And tea seems much more practical and needed in chilly weather.
In conclusion: I am crazy. But I like the weather.
Also in conclusion: I don't like Brian Van Gogh. He walks like he's perfect, talks like he's perfect, critiques like he's perfect, has a scholarship, and is favored by most professors.... grr. And he's not perfect.... Emily and Katie are, I feel, a match for him in most areas. Better in some like accessibility and humility. But enough. I'm not bitter, I swear.
Anyways... I'm going warping! Haha. It makes me sound like some evil villain.... warped. Totally warped.
Wednesday, September 28, 2005
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
So I Think I Found My Answer
Blessed be your name
In the land that is plentiful
Where the streams of abundance flow
Blessed be your name
Blessed be your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be your name
Every blessing you pour out,
I turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say...
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your glorious name
Blessed be your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be
Blessed be your name
Blessed be your name
On the road marked with suffering
Oh, There's pain in the offering
Blessed be your name
Every blessing you pour out,
I turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say...
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your glorious name
You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to stay
Well Blessed be your name
In the land that is plentiful
Where the streams of abundance flow
Blessed be your name
Blessed be your name
When I'm found in the desert place
Though I walk through the wilderness
Blessed be your name
Every blessing you pour out,
I turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say...
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your glorious name
Blessed be your name
When the sun's shining down on me
When the world's all as it should be
Blessed be your name
Blessed be your name
On the road marked with suffering
Oh, There's pain in the offering
Blessed be your name
Every blessing you pour out,
I turn back to praise
When the darkness closes in, Lord
Still I will say...
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your name
Blessed be the name of the Lord
Blessed be your glorious name
You give and take away
You give and take away
My heart will choose to stay
Well Blessed be your name
Monday, September 26, 2005
Free Time - I Don't Remember Life That Way
I talked on the phone to Mom today, and in the background my brothers were playing around, hiding behind futons, and in general not doing their schoolwork. No homework on the weekends for them. No crazy projects keeping them up until 2 a. m. or making them miss newspaper layout. Sigh. I'd wish to go back to highschool, except that I don't think I do. Yeah, it's a heck of a lot more work here, but... to go back to high school I'd have to forget everything I've learned here, which is considerable, and most of it knowledge that I'd like to keep and improve on.
Mom and I were talking about scholarships, and the pressure they put on students. And she said that even if I lost mine, they'd still send me here and I could just pay them back half the loans later. Still pressure, but less. That, plus a nap, made me feel more optimistic about the world in general. And skipping layout, while slightly unethical, gives me hope to catch up on work that's due this week.
Oh, and I talked to my weaving partner.... I'm weaving first again. Which I like but also don't like. I like to go first so I'm not dependent on my partner to get done on time, but at the same time, since I'm going first and weaving thirty more inches than the project requires, I'm going to be spending a lot of time in the studio. She was really nice about it though and said that if I needed an extra day or two she'd be OK with that and just catch up. This week apparently exploded in her face as well, and surprisingly enough, I have less of a workload than she does. I feel sorry for her....
Eh, enough with the gabbing. The more I finish tonight, the more sane I'll be tomorrow.
Mom and I were talking about scholarships, and the pressure they put on students. And she said that even if I lost mine, they'd still send me here and I could just pay them back half the loans later. Still pressure, but less. That, plus a nap, made me feel more optimistic about the world in general. And skipping layout, while slightly unethical, gives me hope to catch up on work that's due this week.
Oh, and I talked to my weaving partner.... I'm weaving first again. Which I like but also don't like. I like to go first so I'm not dependent on my partner to get done on time, but at the same time, since I'm going first and weaving thirty more inches than the project requires, I'm going to be spending a lot of time in the studio. She was really nice about it though and said that if I needed an extra day or two she'd be OK with that and just catch up. This week apparently exploded in her face as well, and surprisingly enough, I have less of a workload than she does. I feel sorry for her....
Eh, enough with the gabbing. The more I finish tonight, the more sane I'll be tomorrow.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Weaving Trials
I think that would be a great title for a book. "The Weaving Trials." It would be sort of like witch trials, except that the defendants would be on trial for weaving subversive messages in their cloth.
Eh, I think it would be funny anyway.
So, I turned in my weaving project today. I'm optimistically hoping for a good grade, because at least in my arrogant opinion it was one of the best in the class. Better salvages than most, the right length, not too dippy or saggy in the middle, labeled (this morning, during chapel. I hate it when you wake up to the knowledge that you forgot to do something important to a project), woven properly as far as I can tell, and most important to my mind, the colors are good. I find myself pret-ty amazed at the color combinations people chose. I hate to say they're just plain ugly, because that makes me sound snobby and self-satisfied, but honestly.... I thought some of them were just plain ugly. And I feel like that's not just me either. Kelsey definitely visited me in the weaving studio and vetoed the large majority of them. Some of them were nice color combinations, just not things I'd have chosen, but some of them.... Yeah. Stopping there. I'm really a nice person, I swear....
So now, we have to design our second weaving project. Woot woot! I'm planning on weaving a lot more than she assigned us, just because she made it flexible and I want it to look darn good on our table. So my partner is weaving first, and hopefully I'll be able to cram in enough time at the end to finish the length I want it to be rather than the length assigned to us. But I figure it's only ten more hours' work, and when you're already putting in forty.... well, it seems worth it. Plus I guess I'm getting a little cocky since I'm so proud of my first weaving project. In the meantime, while my partner is weaving, I'll be studying basketry.... Don't laugh guys. It's not funny. Underwater basket weaving is demanding. = D
Off to have some fun and do a lotsa lotsa homework,
The Subtle Nut
Eh, I think it would be funny anyway.
So, I turned in my weaving project today. I'm optimistically hoping for a good grade, because at least in my arrogant opinion it was one of the best in the class. Better salvages than most, the right length, not too dippy or saggy in the middle, labeled (this morning, during chapel. I hate it when you wake up to the knowledge that you forgot to do something important to a project), woven properly as far as I can tell, and most important to my mind, the colors are good. I find myself pret-ty amazed at the color combinations people chose. I hate to say they're just plain ugly, because that makes me sound snobby and self-satisfied, but honestly.... I thought some of them were just plain ugly. And I feel like that's not just me either. Kelsey definitely visited me in the weaving studio and vetoed the large majority of them. Some of them were nice color combinations, just not things I'd have chosen, but some of them.... Yeah. Stopping there. I'm really a nice person, I swear....
So now, we have to design our second weaving project. Woot woot! I'm planning on weaving a lot more than she assigned us, just because she made it flexible and I want it to look darn good on our table. So my partner is weaving first, and hopefully I'll be able to cram in enough time at the end to finish the length I want it to be rather than the length assigned to us. But I figure it's only ten more hours' work, and when you're already putting in forty.... well, it seems worth it. Plus I guess I'm getting a little cocky since I'm so proud of my first weaving project. In the meantime, while my partner is weaving, I'll be studying basketry.... Don't laugh guys. It's not funny. Underwater basket weaving is demanding. = D
Off to have some fun and do a lotsa lotsa homework,
The Subtle Nut
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
Woot Woot! [Cough! Cough!]
I went camping with Shannon last night down by the yellow breeches! It was hilariously fun. Especially the whole putting-up-a-strange-tent-at-one-in-the-morning-in-the-dark thing. And all the people walking by and not believing that they actually saw a tent. Plus the possibility that Campus Safety would come and yell at us or something, because I definitely feel like that's sort of not allowed. But it makes a great story.
On the downside, I woke up sick. We got up early because Shannon has an 8 o'clock, and took down the tent and brushed our teeth in Climenhaga, and then I went back to my room and slept through chapel. I'm not feeling like crap quite yet, just sort of funny with my voice sort-of leaving me and I think a low-grade fever. But I took some medicine and feel much better, and tomorrow is Cake Day, so I'm optimistic.
Cake on.
PS If anyone knows of any ways our belief in God as a trinity has any practical applications in our view of how God works in the world, please tell me. I'm driving myself nuts over this theology assignment, and I can only think of one or two things.
On the downside, I woke up sick. We got up early because Shannon has an 8 o'clock, and took down the tent and brushed our teeth in Climenhaga, and then I went back to my room and slept through chapel. I'm not feeling like crap quite yet, just sort of funny with my voice sort-of leaving me and I think a low-grade fever. But I took some medicine and feel much better, and tomorrow is Cake Day, so I'm optimistic.
Cake on.
PS If anyone knows of any ways our belief in God as a trinity has any practical applications in our view of how God works in the world, please tell me. I'm driving myself nuts over this theology assignment, and I can only think of one or two things.
Monday, September 19, 2005
Talk Like A Pirate Day
Well, I suppose that's it then. I'm nineteen. No more prevaricating or procrastinating - you cannot slow the pass of time. The last teen year. Everyone seems to think I should be so super excited. I don't know. I haven't been dealing with change very well this year, so even though I had a good birth day, I'm not so sure about this birthdays-without-families thing. It seems like just another form of upheaval to me, one which I'd prefer to avoid. Actually, I'd prefer to avoid all upheaval and stress and just sleep all the time, for at least the next week. I don't even feel like doing the things I like doing. I just want to do nothing.
This attitude could have to do with the fact that I got less sleep last night than I normally do, which always makes me maudlin, and also that I'm having a rather big fight with God right now. Which is also why I got less sleep. I say that as if he yells and hits back, but he really doesn't. It's like shadow boxing, but even dumber than that, because I can't see a shadow. It's completely dumb to try to pick a fight with the omnipotent omniscient all-wise and all-good ruler of the universe, but hey, I've never been known for intelligence. I also seem to think that God values honesty. Of course, he generally makes you feel dumber than dirt after your honesty, because he obviously knows best. Grr.
I don't mean to make this a forum for all my spiritual grumblings. I really did have a good day today. I had dinner at the union with my piratical friends, who have amazingly great piratitude. I got a package from home and a package from my grandparents in Indiana, and a package from my grandparents in Alabama - Apples to Apples, if anyone's interested in playing. I turned in my Color & Design project, which, at a guess, was definitely in the top ten best of the class.... One girl at least thought in the top four. So maybe I'll get an A- and redeem my previous project. I had to do a self-critique of that project in my sketchbook, which I titled "Little Squares Class - The Story of One Student's Spontaneous Head Explosion." It was particularly effective because I wrote it on the page that had kiwi guts on it, which I labeled as pieces of my head. Either it'll make the prof laugh or he'll think I'm incurably childish. I'm hoping for the former, although I believe I do display signs of being incurably childish.
In English 108, we talked about Williams' Little Red Wheelbarrow poem. One person actually suggested that the red wheelbarrow stood for the earth and food and everything we need that way, and the rain stood for water which we need to live, and the white chickens stood for companionship and fellowship which we also need in order to live. And then somehow managed to equate that with world hunger, and how Williams was preaching against it. Is anyone else completely flabbergasted by this? I swear. I was so angry, I raised my hand and said "All I really get from the poem is a sense of loss. Maybe he just found an image that completely embodied and captured that loss and is using to communicate it to us - just the loss. Maybe that's all it is." The prof wasn't particularly impressed with either of us, except that she said I was right about the loss. I just feel like sometimes you have to let it be what it is - just let it be. No poet in his right mind is going to be consciously trying to communicate everything we analyze out of their poems, or consciously using so many literary devices. Let them be and stop hounding them. Take it as something beautiful without having to pick it apart all the time. Williams' wheelbarrow poem is, I swear, the most easily and often maligned in the english language.
That is my english rant.
Now for another rant:
No, just kidding. I ran out of rants.
So much depends upon
a red wheelbarrow
glazed with rain water
beside the
white chickens.
Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all night.
Or I might just be sleeping.
This attitude could have to do with the fact that I got less sleep last night than I normally do, which always makes me maudlin, and also that I'm having a rather big fight with God right now. Which is also why I got less sleep. I say that as if he yells and hits back, but he really doesn't. It's like shadow boxing, but even dumber than that, because I can't see a shadow. It's completely dumb to try to pick a fight with the omnipotent omniscient all-wise and all-good ruler of the universe, but hey, I've never been known for intelligence. I also seem to think that God values honesty. Of course, he generally makes you feel dumber than dirt after your honesty, because he obviously knows best. Grr.
I don't mean to make this a forum for all my spiritual grumblings. I really did have a good day today. I had dinner at the union with my piratical friends, who have amazingly great piratitude. I got a package from home and a package from my grandparents in Indiana, and a package from my grandparents in Alabama - Apples to Apples, if anyone's interested in playing. I turned in my Color & Design project, which, at a guess, was definitely in the top ten best of the class.... One girl at least thought in the top four. So maybe I'll get an A- and redeem my previous project. I had to do a self-critique of that project in my sketchbook, which I titled "Little Squares Class - The Story of One Student's Spontaneous Head Explosion." It was particularly effective because I wrote it on the page that had kiwi guts on it, which I labeled as pieces of my head. Either it'll make the prof laugh or he'll think I'm incurably childish. I'm hoping for the former, although I believe I do display signs of being incurably childish.
In English 108, we talked about Williams' Little Red Wheelbarrow poem. One person actually suggested that the red wheelbarrow stood for the earth and food and everything we need that way, and the rain stood for water which we need to live, and the white chickens stood for companionship and fellowship which we also need in order to live. And then somehow managed to equate that with world hunger, and how Williams was preaching against it. Is anyone else completely flabbergasted by this? I swear. I was so angry, I raised my hand and said "All I really get from the poem is a sense of loss. Maybe he just found an image that completely embodied and captured that loss and is using to communicate it to us - just the loss. Maybe that's all it is." The prof wasn't particularly impressed with either of us, except that she said I was right about the loss. I just feel like sometimes you have to let it be what it is - just let it be. No poet in his right mind is going to be consciously trying to communicate everything we analyze out of their poems, or consciously using so many literary devices. Let them be and stop hounding them. Take it as something beautiful without having to pick it apart all the time. Williams' wheelbarrow poem is, I swear, the most easily and often maligned in the english language.
That is my english rant.
Now for another rant:
No, just kidding. I ran out of rants.
So much depends upon
a red wheelbarrow
glazed with rain water
beside the
white chickens.
Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all night.
Or I might just be sleeping.
Thursday, September 15, 2005
I love that I have both a roommate and a loommate.
I guess I should update, since it's been a couple of days. But I'm really tired, so here's a quick synopsis only, rather than all that deep thinky sort of thing, which I'm actually not all that good at.
Went swimming in the breeches with Shannon today. Birthday camping trip planned, and annual swim-the-breeches event entered into Shannon's cell phone calendar. Assuming she keeps the same phone till next year on September 15, we're good to go.
Have officially woven twenty-four inches. Slightly over a third of where I need to be. But I feel like I'm making great progress, getting the hang of it, and weaving like a maniac. Or a demon. Or it could actually be that I get lost in contemplation of the beauty which is my weaving and actually forget to weave. Or not. At first I liked the colors I got OK - then I got excited about them, then I hated them. Now I love them. They're trippy. And by trippy, I mean they totally remind me of really early sixties-ish home decor colors. That's assuming I don't have the wrong decade in mind again. I keep confusing the sixties and seventies. But I'm pretty sure it's the sixties. I'll have to post a picture of it when I'm done so you can understand what I'm talking about.
I think progressively less as I write my glosses. This could be a bad thing, but I prefer to see it as a positive. It might be that I'm getting better at analyzing and writing incoherently about poetry. Or it could just be that I'm getting better at making things up.
I started the dragon lady story today. I'm excited to see where that goes. And to see what people think of my story at the next meeting, but I sort of think half the people won't have done it, and the people that have.... won't really have any suggestions. Or that half the people (most probably Sharon and Joel) will absolutely hate it, half will be depressed by it, or inspired to pity me or something (Lucy and Matt), and Liz will probably.... No, I find it hard to predict Liz. So there it is: my predictions for the next meeting, down in writing. Tease me mercilessly if I am wrong. Or place bets. Whichever you prefer.
Went swimming in the breeches with Shannon today. Birthday camping trip planned, and annual swim-the-breeches event entered into Shannon's cell phone calendar. Assuming she keeps the same phone till next year on September 15, we're good to go.
Have officially woven twenty-four inches. Slightly over a third of where I need to be. But I feel like I'm making great progress, getting the hang of it, and weaving like a maniac. Or a demon. Or it could actually be that I get lost in contemplation of the beauty which is my weaving and actually forget to weave. Or not. At first I liked the colors I got OK - then I got excited about them, then I hated them. Now I love them. They're trippy. And by trippy, I mean they totally remind me of really early sixties-ish home decor colors. That's assuming I don't have the wrong decade in mind again. I keep confusing the sixties and seventies. But I'm pretty sure it's the sixties. I'll have to post a picture of it when I'm done so you can understand what I'm talking about.
I think progressively less as I write my glosses. This could be a bad thing, but I prefer to see it as a positive. It might be that I'm getting better at analyzing and writing incoherently about poetry. Or it could just be that I'm getting better at making things up.
I started the dragon lady story today. I'm excited to see where that goes. And to see what people think of my story at the next meeting, but I sort of think half the people won't have done it, and the people that have.... won't really have any suggestions. Or that half the people (most probably Sharon and Joel) will absolutely hate it, half will be depressed by it, or inspired to pity me or something (Lucy and Matt), and Liz will probably.... No, I find it hard to predict Liz. So there it is: my predictions for the next meeting, down in writing. Tease me mercilessly if I am wrong. Or place bets. Whichever you prefer.
Tuesday, September 13, 2005
Woot Woot!
Or maybe I should say, "Shuttle shuttle!" Because I've actually learned how to weave. The bad part is, I have four and a half days to weave two yards. She's given us half as long to actually weave as she gave us to dress the loom. Crap. But hey, I'll just live down there for the next couple days, and everything will be OK, right? And my friends said they'd bring me cookies.... I estimate I'll only have to spend eighteen hours down there in the next four and a half days. Only.
I'm going to dinner with Shannon on Thursday, so that should be cool. I haven't really had a chance to sit down and talk with her, since I only see her rushing in between classes.
Due to the large amounts of me being spammed, I turned word verification on. Basically what I think that means: when you go to comment, a slightly distorted word will appear, and you'll have to type it in correctly, which apparently computer can't or aren't supposed to be able to do.
---------------------------------------------
Picture this: a typical diner of uncertain age - slightly rundown, very out of fashion. The bright red leather booth cushions are fading, some of them tearing. The black-and-white checked linoleum floors are dirty, despite the vigourous cleaning Charlie, the proprietor, gives them every night. The windows are perpetually grimy from small hands, and the lighting is harshly flourescent. Everyone in town comes to this diner sooner or later. Some literally sleep there, and Charlie mops around their inert forms. The food isn't that great, but Charlie offers one specialty, highly prized throughout the state.
A customer approaches the counter with a meaningful look on his face, intending, no doubt, to order this specialty. He's an intelligent looking man wearing a business suit and an air screaming "Salesman!"
"Hey," he says jovially, with the overly-familiar air of all good salesmen. "One God-in-a-box to go, Charlie. Got a busy day today."
---------------------------------------------
"I'm not crazy about hell."
- Prof Baker
"Have you seen thr Little Mermaid? I think you got that from the Little Mermaid."
- One of my classmates, to Prof Baker, about a picture supposed to be depicting the rapture.
---------------------------------------------
An innocent young girl has started an e-mail account. She checks it regularly. One day, she sees a message from her best friend, with the subject saying, "Something Special Just for You (and Everyone You Know)." Inside, the e-mail says:
"Thinking about opening this e-mail? I wouldn't. It contains a deadly virus which will utterly obliterate your computer, while passing smallpox on to you and all your friends."
The young girl never used the internet again.
---------------------------------------------
Well then, I suppose I'll go to work and do my other homework, besides weaving. And maybe I'll even sleep tonight, who knows?
I'm going to dinner with Shannon on Thursday, so that should be cool. I haven't really had a chance to sit down and talk with her, since I only see her rushing in between classes.
Due to the large amounts of me being spammed, I turned word verification on. Basically what I think that means: when you go to comment, a slightly distorted word will appear, and you'll have to type it in correctly, which apparently computer can't or aren't supposed to be able to do.
---------------------------------------------
Picture this: a typical diner of uncertain age - slightly rundown, very out of fashion. The bright red leather booth cushions are fading, some of them tearing. The black-and-white checked linoleum floors are dirty, despite the vigourous cleaning Charlie, the proprietor, gives them every night. The windows are perpetually grimy from small hands, and the lighting is harshly flourescent. Everyone in town comes to this diner sooner or later. Some literally sleep there, and Charlie mops around their inert forms. The food isn't that great, but Charlie offers one specialty, highly prized throughout the state.
A customer approaches the counter with a meaningful look on his face, intending, no doubt, to order this specialty. He's an intelligent looking man wearing a business suit and an air screaming "Salesman!"
"Hey," he says jovially, with the overly-familiar air of all good salesmen. "One God-in-a-box to go, Charlie. Got a busy day today."
---------------------------------------------
"I'm not crazy about hell."
- Prof Baker
"Have you seen thr Little Mermaid? I think you got that from the Little Mermaid."
- One of my classmates, to Prof Baker, about a picture supposed to be depicting the rapture.
---------------------------------------------
An innocent young girl has started an e-mail account. She checks it regularly. One day, she sees a message from her best friend, with the subject saying, "Something Special Just for You (and Everyone You Know)." Inside, the e-mail says:
"Thinking about opening this e-mail? I wouldn't. It contains a deadly virus which will utterly obliterate your computer, while passing smallpox on to you and all your friends."
The young girl never used the internet again.
---------------------------------------------
Well then, I suppose I'll go to work and do my other homework, besides weaving. And maybe I'll even sleep tonight, who knows?
Monday, September 12, 2005
... and ah! bright wings
So, apparently Naugle is an amazing dorm. And by amazing, I mean completely bizarre, but funny. I went down to the basement to do my laundry today, and what do you suppose was going on? Eight guys randomly boxing each other (not all at once). Awkward, but very very funny. I came down to dinner, and in the main lobby I was amazed to discover some guy dancing around and playing his guitar. Not only that, he was accosting random females and asking their names - if they gave them, he introduced his friend Josh and started playing on the guitar, singing, "Will you go out with Josh? Will you go out with Josh?" Yeah. It was pretty hilarious. No way something like that would happen in Solly, for sure.
Weaving homework for Tuesday is done - at least my part. Emily was still down there working when I left, but hey, I did a whole bunch of work for both of us on Sunday, so I'm trying not to feel guilty about finishing first.
Pretty freaked out to find that it's September 12th already. In exactly a week I'll be nineteen, and I don't really feel ready for that. Well, not for a birthday away from home at least. It is, however, starting to feel more natural that I'm here and work all the time on one aspect of homework or another. I seriously got more free time working fourty hours a week and taking a biology class at the same time. At least I enjoy some of it. Not that I have any really overridingly fun classes this semester, but I don't have any overridingly miserable classes either. Give thanks!
And.... that's it, pretty much. Too much to do, and me too tired to do it, but where there's a will there's a way.
Weaving homework for Tuesday is done - at least my part. Emily was still down there working when I left, but hey, I did a whole bunch of work for both of us on Sunday, so I'm trying not to feel guilty about finishing first.
Pretty freaked out to find that it's September 12th already. In exactly a week I'll be nineteen, and I don't really feel ready for that. Well, not for a birthday away from home at least. It is, however, starting to feel more natural that I'm here and work all the time on one aspect of homework or another. I seriously got more free time working fourty hours a week and taking a biology class at the same time. At least I enjoy some of it. Not that I have any really overridingly fun classes this semester, but I don't have any overridingly miserable classes either. Give thanks!
And.... that's it, pretty much. Too much to do, and me too tired to do it, but where there's a will there's a way.
Friday, September 09, 2005
I Spoke Too Soon
I was, in fact, no where near done with my gray squares project. I mounted them wrong on my last sheet of bristol board. I then had to tear them off (as carefully as possible) and call Kelsey to bum a sheet of bristol board off of her so that I could finish my project. Oh, and I also had to write that paper revision that's due today. So now not only am I two hours behind the rest of the weaving class, I'm sleep deprived and unhappy with my craftsmanship skills. Why couldn't I have inherited some of those detailed craft skills along with perfectionism and brown hair?
On the up side, I knew that you can mix chromatic grays from complimentary colors, so that makes me happy. Brian Behm can be as scornful and know-it-all as he likes - he's not the only one in the class that can mix a chromatic gray. He is good though, and the whole first half of the class is likely to be review for him, so I can sort of forgive his attitude. He's a workaholic who doesn't appreciate review or delay.
Also on the upside, it's the weekend! Practically. So I have time, if I use it correctly, to catch up in weaving, my sketchbook assignments, and read ahead for theolody and philosophy, and take my take-home quiz, not to mention writing the paper that will inevitably be due on Monday for English 108, alternatively known as "Heteroglossia and the interpretation of tongues." Heteroglossia, the word that sends Andrew into complete fits. Hahaha. = D
My roommate's funny. I had written, on our white board, "Mackenzie = = (" last night, because I was unsmiley. This morning I wake up, and she'd replaced my = ( with a sleeping face. That made me chuckle.
On the up side, I knew that you can mix chromatic grays from complimentary colors, so that makes me happy. Brian Behm can be as scornful and know-it-all as he likes - he's not the only one in the class that can mix a chromatic gray. He is good though, and the whole first half of the class is likely to be review for him, so I can sort of forgive his attitude. He's a workaholic who doesn't appreciate review or delay.
Also on the upside, it's the weekend! Practically. So I have time, if I use it correctly, to catch up in weaving, my sketchbook assignments, and read ahead for theolody and philosophy, and take my take-home quiz, not to mention writing the paper that will inevitably be due on Monday for English 108, alternatively known as "Heteroglossia and the interpretation of tongues." Heteroglossia, the word that sends Andrew into complete fits. Hahaha. = D
My roommate's funny. I had written, on our white board, "Mackenzie = = (" last night, because I was unsmiley. This morning I wake up, and she'd replaced my = ( with a sleeping face. That made me chuckle.
Thursday, September 08, 2005
Quote Night!
"Have you ever had that really smart kid in math class that just knows everything?"
"I hate that kid."
- Philosophy
"We apply really hard labels to ourselves sometimes. Pacifist, for one. Or liberal and conservative. I mean, what the heck does that mean?"
- Theology
"Do I look intellectual when I do this?"
- me, believe it or not.
"Mrs. Forsythe... is this bad?"
- also me, all through weaving class.
"I'm only a dumb sheep like the rest of you."
"Thanks."
- Theology
"It's like swearing on a science textbook."
- Theology (I like Sharon Baker, a lot a lot.)
"Cheating will ruin your prayer life. Cheating will ruin your academic life. Cheating will ruin your life."
- Philosophy
"What's another word that comes from the root word 'duc' and is related to what we've been talking about - the seduction of language?"
"Reproduction?"
- English 108. It happened in the period before ours, and Dr. Downing related this to our class, following it up with:
"There will be none of that in this class! Whatever's going on under your desks, it had better not be that!"
"I'm OK. I'm just not graceful, and it hurts."
- Liz
"She's only part femi-nazi. On her mother's side."
- also Liz
"I once knew the words for 'beautiful woman' in Swahili. But I can't remember them, and I don't think you'd apply them to a muskrat anyway."
- er... me.
I'm finished with the graysquares project, praise the Lord (and pass the tax rebates), so only a page of writing to do. I feel like I can do that before tomorrow, and possibly some of my reading as well. Wish me luck, and enjoy the quotes.
I'll meet you tomorrow at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe for pizza and a recap.
"I hate that kid."
- Philosophy
"We apply really hard labels to ourselves sometimes. Pacifist, for one. Or liberal and conservative. I mean, what the heck does that mean?"
- Theology
"Do I look intellectual when I do this?"
- me, believe it or not.
"Mrs. Forsythe... is this bad?"
- also me, all through weaving class.
"I'm only a dumb sheep like the rest of you."
"Thanks."
- Theology
"It's like swearing on a science textbook."
- Theology (I like Sharon Baker, a lot a lot.)
"Cheating will ruin your prayer life. Cheating will ruin your academic life. Cheating will ruin your life."
- Philosophy
"What's another word that comes from the root word 'duc' and is related to what we've been talking about - the seduction of language?"
"Reproduction?"
- English 108. It happened in the period before ours, and Dr. Downing related this to our class, following it up with:
"There will be none of that in this class! Whatever's going on under your desks, it had better not be that!"
"I'm OK. I'm just not graceful, and it hurts."
- Liz
"She's only part femi-nazi. On her mother's side."
- also Liz
"I once knew the words for 'beautiful woman' in Swahili. But I can't remember them, and I don't think you'd apply them to a muskrat anyway."
- er... me.
I'm finished with the graysquares project, praise the Lord (and pass the tax rebates), so only a page of writing to do. I feel like I can do that before tomorrow, and possibly some of my reading as well. Wish me luck, and enjoy the quotes.
I'll meet you tomorrow at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe for pizza and a recap.
Wednesday, September 07, 2005
Tuesday, September 06, 2005
Well, That Was A Hell Of A Day
It started off lousy, got good, got lousy again, got good, and then got lousy again. The last lousy, however, was not my fault.
Or at least not more than half my fault.
We passed around a sign-up sheet in weaving for the warp-boards, because we have three boards and eighteen people. The increments we signed up for were am, pm, and evening. I signed up for this evening. Apparently Chelsea didn't understand the sign up system, because she signed up for warp-board number 2 (co-incedentally the one I signed up for) at 8:30 - except that she signed up for that time in the pm box. So I signed up for the evening, thinking it was free. Got to the weaving studio at six, and guess what? Someone had left their warp on the warp-board so that it was well-nigh unusable for anyone else. I waited around, hoping whoever it was would come back from dinner and chain off so I could use it. Nothing. All the other warp-boards were claimed, and all the other times I could come were also claimed.
Now, being the fundamentally-un-cruel-if-pissed-off-person that I am, I didn't want to take all their hard work off the warp-board, because that's like three hours' work (or at least that's how long it took me). I also didn't have any time to screw around and hope they showed up (as I said, it's a long process). So I turned the warp-board upside-down and started warping, just overlapping their thread on the bottom most rung (this is really hard to explain to people who've never seen a warp-board before. It's a yard by yard square of wood with pegs sticking out at regular intervals around the edges. You wrap you warp around it in a systematic and very confusing manner in order to end up with the right amount of warp threads in the right pattern to dress your loom with before you can start what one normally thinks of as the weaving process.) Suffice it to say that it was a really long, really awkward process, in which I had to keep stopping and redoing and stopping and redoing, made ever more difficult by Chelsea's yarn. About three quarters of the way through, who should walk in but Chelsea, who says she signed up for 8:30. She did. Just in the wrong place, where, surprise surprise, I didn't look. She wanted to finish her warping, but couldn't, because I was in the way, and I wanted to finish my warping, but I was finding it difficult because she was in the way.
Neither of us was happy.
I only hope the rest of this weaving thing is not as stressful. It's almost sure to be complicated.
Or at least not more than half my fault.
We passed around a sign-up sheet in weaving for the warp-boards, because we have three boards and eighteen people. The increments we signed up for were am, pm, and evening. I signed up for this evening. Apparently Chelsea didn't understand the sign up system, because she signed up for warp-board number 2 (co-incedentally the one I signed up for) at 8:30 - except that she signed up for that time in the pm box. So I signed up for the evening, thinking it was free. Got to the weaving studio at six, and guess what? Someone had left their warp on the warp-board so that it was well-nigh unusable for anyone else. I waited around, hoping whoever it was would come back from dinner and chain off so I could use it. Nothing. All the other warp-boards were claimed, and all the other times I could come were also claimed.
Now, being the fundamentally-un-cruel-if-pissed-off-person that I am, I didn't want to take all their hard work off the warp-board, because that's like three hours' work (or at least that's how long it took me). I also didn't have any time to screw around and hope they showed up (as I said, it's a long process). So I turned the warp-board upside-down and started warping, just overlapping their thread on the bottom most rung (this is really hard to explain to people who've never seen a warp-board before. It's a yard by yard square of wood with pegs sticking out at regular intervals around the edges. You wrap you warp around it in a systematic and very confusing manner in order to end up with the right amount of warp threads in the right pattern to dress your loom with before you can start what one normally thinks of as the weaving process.) Suffice it to say that it was a really long, really awkward process, in which I had to keep stopping and redoing and stopping and redoing, made ever more difficult by Chelsea's yarn. About three quarters of the way through, who should walk in but Chelsea, who says she signed up for 8:30. She did. Just in the wrong place, where, surprise surprise, I didn't look. She wanted to finish her warping, but couldn't, because I was in the way, and I wanted to finish my warping, but I was finding it difficult because she was in the way.
Neither of us was happy.
I only hope the rest of this weaving thing is not as stressful. It's almost sure to be complicated.
Monday, September 05, 2005
Am I Then...?
I am a sucker for posters. Especially big, beautiful, impressionistic posters. They're having the annual poster sale in Eisenhower today and tomorrow, so, being unable to avoid the spot, I went.
There is, at this sale in particular, a plethora of choices, artists, popular subjects and esoteric subjects. At one point I simply had to stop looking. Otherwise I'd have seen too many beautiful ones, and spoiled my joy in the two I decided to buy. Or else I'd have bought too many and spoiled my joy. Either way, too much unreachable beauty would have spoiled the attainable beauty. This made me think: my schedule is a lot like this poster sale. I had too much unattainable beauty on my plate, and it was spoiling the whole thing. By dropping my creative writing course this semester and taking it in J-term, I'm recovering my joy with attainable beauty, just as (by limiting my poster exposure and purchases) I'm increasing (or at least leaving unspoiled) my joy in my posters. That made me feel a lot better about dropping the course, less of a failure, and more of a focused, disciplined "adult" person.
One other thing happened at the sale that made the little head-wheels start turning. I was staring (in complete rapture) at a Degas (Blue Dancers, for those that care) and I heard someone behind me mistakenly attribute it to Monet (in a very authoritative tone of voice). As if all impressionists are Monet! In all likelihood, if you can't tell their work apart (and it's VERY different) you haven't even been looking at it! I was so angry, I turned around and corrected the girl, in as neutral a voice as I could muster.
With authors, I am much like that girl. Unless I'm totally obsessed with their work, their names escape me, and I'm quite as likely to attribute Jane Eyre to Diana Wynne Jones as to Charlotte Bronte (or was it actually written by Emily Bronte or that other Bronte sister? See? Hopeless.). Even if I enjoyed a particular story, there is little chance I'll remember the author at all. With loved artists - well, I simply cannot understand confusion, especially not with impressionists, whose work was generally of the same style for the majority of their lifespans (I am making generalizations here - I realize that. Hence the word "generally"). Am I then more of an artist than an author?
And one more exciting piece of news... or at least one that boosted my self esteem. In Color & Design, only a quarter of us had ever used pallete knives to mix paint before. Knowing that, although they may be ahead of me in other respects, I can already use a pallete knife to mix paint made me very happy. According to Daniel Finch, my mixing is also "very good," and my texture was "excellent." - at least for this project.
Forgive me if I sound boastful - I'm just really really excited not to suck at something! = D
There is, at this sale in particular, a plethora of choices, artists, popular subjects and esoteric subjects. At one point I simply had to stop looking. Otherwise I'd have seen too many beautiful ones, and spoiled my joy in the two I decided to buy. Or else I'd have bought too many and spoiled my joy. Either way, too much unreachable beauty would have spoiled the attainable beauty. This made me think: my schedule is a lot like this poster sale. I had too much unattainable beauty on my plate, and it was spoiling the whole thing. By dropping my creative writing course this semester and taking it in J-term, I'm recovering my joy with attainable beauty, just as (by limiting my poster exposure and purchases) I'm increasing (or at least leaving unspoiled) my joy in my posters. That made me feel a lot better about dropping the course, less of a failure, and more of a focused, disciplined "adult" person.
One other thing happened at the sale that made the little head-wheels start turning. I was staring (in complete rapture) at a Degas (Blue Dancers, for those that care) and I heard someone behind me mistakenly attribute it to Monet (in a very authoritative tone of voice). As if all impressionists are Monet! In all likelihood, if you can't tell their work apart (and it's VERY different) you haven't even been looking at it! I was so angry, I turned around and corrected the girl, in as neutral a voice as I could muster.
With authors, I am much like that girl. Unless I'm totally obsessed with their work, their names escape me, and I'm quite as likely to attribute Jane Eyre to Diana Wynne Jones as to Charlotte Bronte (or was it actually written by Emily Bronte or that other Bronte sister? See? Hopeless.). Even if I enjoyed a particular story, there is little chance I'll remember the author at all. With loved artists - well, I simply cannot understand confusion, especially not with impressionists, whose work was generally of the same style for the majority of their lifespans (I am making generalizations here - I realize that. Hence the word "generally"). Am I then more of an artist than an author?
And one more exciting piece of news... or at least one that boosted my self esteem. In Color & Design, only a quarter of us had ever used pallete knives to mix paint before. Knowing that, although they may be ahead of me in other respects, I can already use a pallete knife to mix paint made me very happy. According to Daniel Finch, my mixing is also "very good," and my texture was "excellent." - at least for this project.
Forgive me if I sound boastful - I'm just really really excited not to suck at something! = D
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Another Day, Another Way
Yep, I'm staying on top of life at the moment, more or less. There's always something to do, of course, especially now that I feel confident enough of myself to want to join a whole bunch of extracurriculur activities. I'm not sure, though, that I feel confident enough to go to a dance informational meeting. That's just plain weird. Me, dance? I think not. Of course, college is my last chance to learn to dance with people of my own age in a more or less pressure free environment.
Spent forty dollars on yarn today for my first weaving project. It's not so much that I bought a ton of yarn (although I did get a lot) as that I got really nice yarn.... Our next project is two placemats and/or a table runner. I was thinking of doing one for our dining room table, so Mom, maybe you can send me measurements of the table (lengthwise stretched out) and some color swatches from our kitchen/dining room/living room. And then I can stick them in my sketchbook for reference and claimed I did something. = )
Did I tell you all that four of my six classes require the keeping of a sketchbook of some sort? Yeah. This summer was the only time I've ever kept a sketchbook of any sort with any kind of regularity - and it was really a "whatever" book. Writings, pictures, lines, ideas, whatever. I don't know how I'm going to be disciplined enough to keep that many sketchbooks. I mean seriously, there's like no way.
Today I had a little trouble getting up, but I wasn't tired all day, so I think I must be getting into some sort of schedule. I like routine - although sometimes half the fun is changing it. = D
I came to a rather serious decision yesterday. My internet is still broken, right? Well here's my decision. I'm not going to fix it. I'm not going to call ITS, stick paper clips in my computer, nothing. As a student, the internet is the single most distracting thing in my life. I'll continue blogging and keeping up with blogs to the best of my internetless ability, but I won't be on IM unless you can catch me at the last half hour or so of work. I'll answer all e-mails, no worries about that. But if your main form of communication with me is through IM, it's going to have to change. Not a reflection on the importance of my relationships with any of you - just a reflection of my reordered determination to succeed at what I've started.
Off to be all sorts of creative,
Kenzie
Spent forty dollars on yarn today for my first weaving project. It's not so much that I bought a ton of yarn (although I did get a lot) as that I got really nice yarn.... Our next project is two placemats and/or a table runner. I was thinking of doing one for our dining room table, so Mom, maybe you can send me measurements of the table (lengthwise stretched out) and some color swatches from our kitchen/dining room/living room. And then I can stick them in my sketchbook for reference and claimed I did something. = )
Did I tell you all that four of my six classes require the keeping of a sketchbook of some sort? Yeah. This summer was the only time I've ever kept a sketchbook of any sort with any kind of regularity - and it was really a "whatever" book. Writings, pictures, lines, ideas, whatever. I don't know how I'm going to be disciplined enough to keep that many sketchbooks. I mean seriously, there's like no way.
Today I had a little trouble getting up, but I wasn't tired all day, so I think I must be getting into some sort of schedule. I like routine - although sometimes half the fun is changing it. = D
I came to a rather serious decision yesterday. My internet is still broken, right? Well here's my decision. I'm not going to fix it. I'm not going to call ITS, stick paper clips in my computer, nothing. As a student, the internet is the single most distracting thing in my life. I'll continue blogging and keeping up with blogs to the best of my internetless ability, but I won't be on IM unless you can catch me at the last half hour or so of work. I'll answer all e-mails, no worries about that. But if your main form of communication with me is through IM, it's going to have to change. Not a reflection on the importance of my relationships with any of you - just a reflection of my reordered determination to succeed at what I've started.
Off to be all sorts of creative,
Kenzie
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