"poorly executed prank, or sublime dadaist installation piece? you be the judge"

WE HAV CRISMUS HOSTAJ. GIV US A MILEON DOLARS AND U CAN HAV IT BAK. IF U DONT -

Wait wait wait. I missed it? Can I still take it hostage if it won't come for another 360-something days? Yes? Well. I'm sure the President and his cabinet will take such a badly spelled ransom note seriously.

Well. Look at that. I'm back in Alabama. And sick. Pretty much I'd like to sleep for the next week until I feel better. But I have the interwebs again... and my own bed and couch, upon which to lounge and be invalid. Mom and I are watching the new Pride & Prejudice right now, and we previously watched some Poirot mysteries. And soon I'm going to make some tea and go to sleep. And if all goes well I will sleep for a good eight or ten hours, if not the whole week.

So. I hope everyone's Christmas has gone well. Mine was good. I still haven't had a chance to settle down and be home, though. My room is still piled with boxes and suitcases. How much should I bother unpacking before I leave again for Italy in mid-February? I'm not sure. I'll think about it later. When my head is not about to explode. (I am currently of a phlegmatic disposition. ell-oh-ell. Medieval humours, anyone? = D)

pulchritudinous

beautiful; comely

http://www.wondermark.com/d/257.html

http://www.wondermark.com/d/230.html

19th century social commentary

is not precisely my cup of tea.

Funny quiz:

Your Famous Last Words Will Be:

"Tell them I said something."

What Will Your Famous Last Words Be?

Also, I'm hangin' out in Indiana at the family Christmases (no, that's not me randomly pluralizing words. We actually just have many Christmases). So. Merry Christmas.

harry potter and the half-baked book

I just finished reading Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. And I am profoundly dissatisfied.
A) It was so very long.
B) There was so very much irrelevant relationship stuff in it.
C) (And here come the spoilers) killing Dumbledore is totally a horrible ending. It should have come earlier in the book, and then he should have maybe found one of the horcruxes to prove his resolution and character change.
D) Harry Potter's education is totally unsatisfactory. Dumbledore should have taken more care to teach him the right Occlumency this time around, and done more than just show him old memories. The old memories were important, I'm not denying that, but seriously now. Harry Potter is so very ill-equipped to do what needs to be done. Oh, and
E) Dumbledore freezing Harry Potter? Totally a deus ex machina. Or at least improbable. She just felt like she needed to kill Dumbledore off somehow, and making him make such an egregious error was one way of doing that.
F) Have I mentioned how very ill-prepared Harry Potter is? As a younger student, he was so very ahead of his year in all the practical things. As an older student, he seems witless.
G) Have I mentioned how very irritating her lack of focus is? So what if Ginny and Harry start dating for three weeks (in a totally uncharacteristic way?)? And then have a totally out-of-character wrong-attitude-for-their-age breakup?
Also, H) We're totally lacking a motive for Snape to kill Dumbledore. I mean, sure, he took the unbreakable vow, whatever, yadda yadda yadda. But why take the vow? And why the heck did Dumbledore believe Snape for so long? 'Cause let's see, none of those things were explained in a believable way. I think she just changed her mind partway through the series about what side Snape was really on. And you know,
I) it makes me really sick that Harry Potter is always right. So ill-prepared, but always right. Everyone he hates turns out to be evil. Which is so childish.
J) the title of the book? The book isn't really about that. This relates to my irritation over her lack of focus. Too many things all at once, and still the book was too long. She needed to eliminate something.... or just break this book into two. I'm sure her publishers wouldn't have minded. Although, to be honest, probably I'd be down on her too if she extended the series. I'd think she was only trying to make more money or something. So, while I totally don't like the lack of focus, I guess I sort of respect the fact that she tried to fit everything in.
K) Also, and here's just my opinion, I just don't think she's built the characters to handle the kind of plot she wants from them. I feel like she's really trying to develop them, especially with this book, but dude, she's tried having them date people and killing off other characters in order to try and develop Harry, Ron, and Hermoine's characters further. And you know, she's tried this two books in a row. And I believe in them even less now. I feel like that's gotta say something.

Ok. Long post. Long rant. And pretty much I've never written a book, so I shouldn't complain, probably. I think Andrew liked the book? Maybe? So that could be a point in its favor? I think I'm just uber picky, and also minorly cranky. Today, though, was Christmas for us and it was a very good Christmas, so I shouldn't be cranky. I napped and read and ate basically all day. And tomorrow we're leaving for Indiana.... Oh wait, I remember why I'm cranky. I still have to pack.

it's just what happens when you let the time span catch you napping

Hey guess what! They gave me my grades back! Wooh! And actually, they are not too bad of grades. I mean, it would be best if I got all A's and had a 4.0. but barring that, I'm not on scholarship-probation, and that's what (I tell myself) is most important right now. Not perfection, just keeping the scholarship as long as I can. It's kind of weird... usually I get A- or A's in my English/academic classes, and B's/B+'s in my art classes... this semester my one B+ was in Med-Ren Lit. Yeah, that's right, in an English class. Weird. And then I got good-er grades in my art classes (even in Photo II of doom). Maybe I shouldn't give up on art grad school yet?

Also, my cat stabbed me. He was in some kind of fight and got his ear tore up, and when I brought him in to get it swabbed with antibiotic cream, he stabbed me in the side with his claws. Rarr. And then I bled.

And I had a great time over the weekend with everyone who came out to visit... It was like the best kind of family reunion, where nobody is fighting and we all play games together. And sleep. And eat. And take walks. I like how Sharon summed up my house: "it's cute and makes weird noises at night." Yeah, yeah, it pretty much does. I think I'm going to miss it (and of course the people living therein). And getting to read Liz's book was great, and hear about abroad (even though hearing about Oxford made me glad I prioritized going to Italy over going to Oxford), and frankly just hearing everyone's voices all at once made me all happy inside.

"salvation - made possible by the contributions of jesus"

Hi loves!

I don't know why I'm posting, since you'll all be here in a matter of hours, but I guess I just haven't typed in so long I felt the urge. That's right. No typing! No papers! Not even any time in the darkroom! (Although I do sort of miss that)

And now? Working on packing the last few boxes... and baking a few things, and wonderfulness like that. Dude, I hope my crap all fits in the car (this has become a mantra for me - which I think means that I need less stuff or I need a bigger vehicle).

I have such a feeling of well-being when I wake up lately, knowing that I don't HAVE to get up, I just decide to get up because hey, there are things to get done to get ready for fun things, and Jenn is here to hang out with, and there are movies to be watched and food to make and books to read and write.... It's just so PEACEFUL!

and then i found five dollars!

woooh! so close to done with my finals! just one more critique to go and then i'm home free (sort of). i started making some menus today for when y'all come, and that was kind of exciting.

I took a nap this morning at 5 a.m. didn't sleep for long, unfortunately, hence it was a nap and did not actually constitute going to bed. Then I got up again like two hours later to finish my paper and my photo II project. I hope no one is insulted if I take naps this weekend.

Does anyone have plans yet as to when they're heading home? I'm trying to let my aunt and uncle know when I will get to their house, but I have no idea when the leaving-type-things will happen. (This is not in any way supposed to mean that I'm anxious for you to leave, duh! 'cause you're not even here yet. But if you know, if you have plans, then let me know.)

Loves,
Teh Kenzie

where more is meant than meets the ear

I just heard the bizarrest story. Some kid showed up at a professor's office after missing his exam, holding a bag of puke. Apparently he'd been up all night sick... but why the heck bring a bag of puke to show your professor?! I mean, seriously.

And then I found five dollars.

Well. Finals week is here. No more procrastinating, denying, or wigging out will prevent it. It's one last long dive and then - cement? water? a kiddie pool?

I'm feeling pretty good about my writing skills at present. I got my research paper back for Med. Ren. Lit. It was only a 90, but still. You know? If I'd had a clearer, stronger thesis and a stronger conclusion I could have had a real A, but I think that's kind of the story of my life. I have a strong indtroduction, then realize I don't know where to go. But once I get there, my life is cake. Or something. Anyway, I know my idiosyncrasies as a writer: crazy long, convoluted, involved syntax, awful conclusions, bad intros, and laughable source-integration. And for this paper, I integrated my sources well, I wrote a good intro apart from the lack of thesis, and my conclusion wasn't awful - just "adequate." So... improvement? Maybe?

I'm getting super excited for when everyone comes down to visit. I'd say "visit me" except it's not just me, they're just staying at my house. But anyway, it will be good. Also, Jenn is coming out at party time too! Wooh! Party to the nth degree! = D

"fate baked you a tasty cake"

Or... you know. Something.

Basically, I just LOVED that quote and needed to share it.

Not. Obsessive. At All.

Also, have a TOTAL professor crush on Brent Good now. For those of you that are unfamiliar with the term, a professor crush is not like a normal crush. It is the kind of crush that makes you rearrange your course schedule occasionally so you can learn from a particular professor.

the land of spices; something understood

Hellooooo from the land of Granthm, PA! Remember how last time we talked it was really warm here? Well now it's freezing. Frigid, freezing, cold. I don't know anymore synonyms for "freezing," which is prolly sad 'cause I'm an English major. But we'll say it's the cold that's froze my synapses into a mere semblence of the intelligence they normally produce... all the time.

So. I turned in my Med-Ren Lit essay today. I'm really nervous. Also, later today I conference with Helen Walker to discuss my final essay. Considering how badly the last essay went... I'm totally nervous. But I'm getting a sort-of normal amount of sleep (taking into account who I live with) so maybe I won't cry all over the place. Also? Final prints for Photography are coming up due. AAAHHHH!

But you know, I'm totally excited to see all y'all college people again in 12 days. Or somewhere thereabouts. Wish me luck with everything I have to do in the meantime, yeah? And I hope you all break like ten legs.

the pulley

Today, in Grantham Pennsylvania, it is 67 degrees outside. Yes, folks, this winter is officially the bizarrest in college-student memory. It's also very, very windy, which is fun, except when you want to look nice to meet with your professors. Or if you're carrying a stack of papers. That would probably not be fun either. But if I had a kite, it would be perfect kite weather. Unless it stormed and I got struck by lightning, in which case I could be a genius and invent electricity, except that I'm several hundred years too late.

I found this poem by George Herbert in my Med-Ren reading last night, and since it's about rest (or "repose" as my Norton anthology helpfully tells me in the margins), what we all crave but what we're not, under any circumstances, going to get until we die, I thought I would share it with all of you. It's called "The Pulley."

When God at first made man,
Having a glass of blessings standing by,
"Let us," said he, "pour on him all we can:
Let the world's riches, which dispersed lie,
contract into a span."

So strength first made a way;
then beauty flowed, then wisdom, honor, pleasure.
When almost all was out, God made a stay,
Perceiving that, alone of all his treasure,
Rest in the bottom lay.

"For if I should," said He,
"Bestow this jewel also on my creature,
He would adore my gifts instead of me,
And rest in Nature, not the God of Nature;
So both should losers be.

"Yet let him keep the rest,
But keep them with repining restlessness:
Let him be rich and weary, that at least,
If goodness lead him not, yet weariness
May toss him to my breast."

the pathetic fallacy

Today it's 60 degrees out and foggy.

You know, it's one thing to say your work comes first. It's something entirely different to try and determine whether you should stay up another three hours and make this project better, or go to bed so that you can put coherent effort into the project due the next day.

I got 6 hours of sleep.

I feel extremely guilty.

"To stand inquiring right, is not to stray;/ To sleep, or run wrong, is."

- John Donne

It's almost the end of the semester. I find myself shaking my calendar and yelling, "It's almost December?!? No! Take it back!" Unfortunately, all this gets me is a mess of papers (my calendar is the repository for almost every piece of spare paper that I think has something important or fun written on it).

Let's take a look at the next few weeks, shall we? Fourteen days until finals week. In between then, I've got an advanced writing final essay due, five reflections for comp theory, two research papers, three art projects (possibly more if I learn the gum bichromate process)... Yeah, actually, that might be it. Besides, you know, work and layout spreads and the newsletter. Hey, that doesn't sound too bad. It could be way worse. Knock on wood. And I think I may only have one actual final exam (woot for writing and the arts!). So. Lots of loves to all. Hope your Thanksgivings were amaaaaaaazing. = D

it will be in the key of delicious

Today we ate turkey, and just about every imaginable fixing besides. Then I took a three-hour nap, and then I finished the first very, very rought draft of my research paper. Then I went to do more work onlines, but discovered that refworks hates you if you're not on campus. So that's a no-go. Which is frustrating, as I never have time to work on Dr. Powers' bibliography when I'm on campus. But anyway. That doesn't really matter.

Then came the snacking this afternoon and evening, and the reading of webcomics, and the eating of delicious chocolates. And that about brings us up to the present, when the blogging takes place. Happy Thankgiving, everybody.

ah, teh interwebs

I'm back at my house, where we have wireless internet. So I can connect to the internet with my computer. It's kind of exciting. And it's pretty warm here (50 when I got off the plane, after THE most stressful flights of my life), and Mom is going to make dippy sandwiches (otherwise known as beef au jou - or something spelled mildly like that) this week.

I'm pretty excited to be home. Except that, oh yeah, I need to be writing a research paper, re-writing that other paper I failed, completing bibliographic information for Dr. Powers, acquiring imagery for my digital studio project, beginning my composition theory and pedagogy paper (after completing my interview questions for the professors) and taking pinhole negatives. All in five days. Uh... right. Break. I totally know what that means. (On a side note, I'm totally with Lucy about being jealous of non-challenging academic semesters... except that I'm pretty sure Lucy has harder papers to write than me)

Is it sad that I'm excited just not to feel guilty for sleeping eight hours or more a night because it's break?

last night i learned another important lesson

namely, how to pick locks. This girl from Photo 1 (name unmentioned in case of Messiah administration) accidentally closed the cabinet with all my supplies in it, locking me out (and only Andy Bale has the key). I pretty much panicked, but she just grabbed some wire that was lying around and said, "I wonder if we can pick the lock?" So she stuck the wire in and jiggled it around and yanked on the handle for a couple minutes, and, lo and behold, the lock opened. There was much rejoicing and disbelief.

Then we went on to try and pick every other kind of lock in the place. And, to our complete and utter surprise, we can pick more than just crappy cabinet locks, although the deadbolt on the classroom next door proved to be beyond our fledgling skills. Need I say that we saved that piece of wire? If I ever again get locked out of the supply cabinets the night before a project is due, that wire is going to be my best friend.

Now, I'm sort of debating the wisdom of putting this information out on teh interwebs, but I'm also kind of sure that the Messiah administration doesn't read my blog. And it's just too funny a story to keep to myself. Because it was completely by accident that we learned how, and the girl that first picked the lock is so not the person you'd expect to be a delinquent.

today i learned an important lesson

Never ever, ever muzzle your inner critic just because your peers tell you your work is "strong." Your peers are idiots. Or lying. Take your pick. Also? If someone can't find something wrong with your work, you shouldn't listen to the positive things they have to say about your work. It's just that simple. The minute you do either of these things, your work is shot to hell. And then you end up crying all over your professor's office.

And you know what else? There is no way you can do this artist/writer thing without being miserable. If you take the time you think you need in order to be a sane person, your work suffers, and then you suffer. If you don't take the time you think you need in order to be a sane person, you suffer, and your work may suffer anyway. If you put the work first, you'll always be an unhappy and unbalanced person, but if you don't put the work first, then you make crappy work, and how is that supposed to make you happy?

I now see why the average life span of artists is 10 years less than that of engineers. Pretty much everyone with any kind of brain committs suicide in college.

"go away, and take your stupid with you"

Thank you Andrew, for that link on your blog to that one comic with the one amazing quote. I forget specifics. Pretty much my head asplode.

Today was a very sucky day. A very, very sucky day. Hopefully it will get better. Pretty much I'm just blogging because I realized it's November, so I've been officially blogging for like two years now, and I've always celebrated the blog's birthday before. So... happy birthday blog? Birthday, at least.

I miss you guys. Coming here for Christmas may not work out after all, I discovered. Or if it does work out, it will have to work out very, very sneakily. Also, I hate it when your supervisor forgets to sign your time sheet... so you get paid two weeks late.

"so, you wanna test strip?"

Today, when I came into the darkroom, there were photographic pickup lines written all over the dry-erase board. It kind of made me happy.

Things that do not make me happy: failed negatives, research papers, and group presentations.

Other things that make me happy: eight hours of sleep, pomegranage-cherry juice, house tea time, i-pod analagous devices, cold-but-not-too-cold weather, cancelled classes, seeing Shanna on the way to dinner and having a half-hour conversation and jumping up and down and yelling "pwned," parties in the darkroom, high-fives, and Gregory Snader's mythology-comic-blog (his underworld has a starbucks!).

"these turdy-facy-nasty-paty-lousy-fartical rogues"

That's my favorite line from Volpone, by Ben Jonson. Jonson, let me say, is an irritating playwright. He's long-winded, pedantic, and bitter that no one likes his plays. He spends the prologue and the epilogue talking about how people talk bad about his plays, but this is why we should like them... not, in my opinion, a very dignified thing to do. Let the play speak for itself. It's not important if some idiot accused you of taking too long to write plays, and it's not important that you miraculously penned this one in three weeks.

I had something to say, but I forget what. I managed to write my paper for today, and I think it's got the seeds of goodness in it, if I can just think of a way to wrap it up. It also needs to be a bit longer, let's be honest. It just barely makes the minimum requirement, and that's only because my modeling statement is taking up space at the top. So. We'll see. Hopefully Helen Walker will like this one.

Is anyone else panicking about grades? My end-of-semester projects are worth ridiculously much of my grade, and I'm struggling with just the week-to-week stuff, let alone spending the time that they need. Digital Studio will probably be an A-, and Advanced Writing the same. I feel like Photo II will be a C, which makes me sad, but what can you do? I already spend almost 20 hours a week in the darkroom, and I can't spare any more time than that. Med. Ren. Lit I'll be lucky to get an A-, and Composition Theory and Pedagogy's probably an A-.

Anyway. Grades are boring and sucky, and probably you don't care what I think mine will be. So. I'm gonna revise my essay before our group meeting today.

"what can the guillotine do for you?"

Hi my loves.

It's the weekend, which pleases me immensely. Also something that pleases me immensely: I turned in the two projects-of-ultimate-death-and-hatingness this week. They weren't really huge projects, but they were definitely my least favorite projects thus far in the semester. And I got assigned two projects I'm really excited about in their place. One, for Digital Studio, is a personal book. I get to write the text, make the images, choose the topic, everything. And I already have an idea/text/paper for it. For Photography II, I get to focus just on my end-of-semester project this week, and then next week I'm going to learn how to make cyanotypes and enlarge negatives digitally. Which sounds freaking amaaaazing. Excellent good.

Oh, and did I say? I got accepted to Italy. Woot. So now forms is coming out my ears. But I'm going to Italy, which is the important part.

My resolution? Not to slack off this weekend, not in the slightest. Because if I do, I'm absolutely screwed. This year is hard, because there are no classes I can slack off in. I'm taking 5 major courses. All of them are super important. All of them have huge end-of-semester projects. All of these huge end-of-semester projects have components due next week. So pretty much I need to never slack off again ever and maybe not even sleep. But I like sleep, so I'm going to resolve to get some anyway. Sound good? Sounds good to me.

The end of the semester is coming up awful fast. Did you notice? It's really close to Thanksgiving. And after Thanksgiving, the semester is practically over. AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

mrrrar. mrargle. rarr. grarr. grarrgle mrarr.

I like the way my housemates say it: "pre-bleeding." Gives such a violent cast to PMS, which is perfectly right, because PMS makes you want to behave in violent ways. Something I never realized before: when four out of six girls in the house are pre-bleeding all at the same time, it's an exponential growth of neuroticism. At any given moment, someone is freaking out or depressed or needs a hug and someone else is manic and just wants to have fun. Maybe I'm exaggerating. But I'm pre-bleeding (all the signs say so, although I shouldn't be until next week), so it's to be expected. If this is grossing the guys out, I'm sorry. It's just really hard to feel like your life is falling apart at the seams and not talk about it. Unless you're actually clinically depressed, so I guess that means I'm not. Good to know.

You know what I like? Cottage cheese and apple butter. I know I told Lucy that was really gross, but I actually kind of like it now. Is it the onset of adulthood and senility? Maybe. Or else my tastebuds are bipolar (everything else feels bipolar, so maybe my tastebuds just had to get into the act).

Ok. Enough whininess. Sorry, no funny stories today. I'm kind of ticked off.

"the intertexuality of our interactions and our situatedness posits the rise of postmodernism"

Hi loves. It's been a while. By which I mean a couple days. I dressed up as Crystal Downing today for the art league halloween party. Would have been funnier if anyone knew who she was, or knew what intertexutality, situatedness, or postmodernism were. Dr. Downing is such a celebraty within the English department; I didn't realize the extent of the art major ignorance about her. Except apparently a freshman had gone to convocation and recognized her.

It was eerie, how like Daniel Finch Rueben looked. Even to the bald spot and diet pepsi, and he pointed with his pinkie while he held the diet pepsi, and hit peoples' arms and said "hey. What's goin' on?" in the Daniel Finch Voice. (And when Daniel Finch realized all of this... oh gosh, it was amazing and fantastic) And Brian looked so much like Brent Goode; we all thought Brenton had actually come to the party when Brian walked in the door. Pretty much the faculty imitations were all amazing. AAAAMMMAAAZZZZINNNG! Lenora dressed up as Andy Bale, too, and looked eerily like him (Emily Heidel dressed up as his dog, Kertesz). They're all my heroes now. And Christine dressed up as Hettinga, and carried around a dead bird, and kept asking people to put it in the freezer for her... and Hettinga really does collect dead birds and animals and scans them in for her books! I have never been prouder to be an art major. Other people dressed up as Frida Kahlo, "Woman 1" by de Kooning, Marilyn Monroe from Andy Warhol's screen prints, Teagen dressed up as Art Deco.... Yeah, it was amazing. I can't really say anything else. Except amazing about a hundred more times.

Except that I have to turn in a really crappy project tomorrow... I just don't know how to fix it. And I haven't even started writing the short paper due Tuesday, or worked on my Digital Studio book which is due on Thursday. Not to mention missing work time to go on a field trip, and my annotated bibliography is due on Friday, and work, and all of those related things.... I'm a little stressed, I'll confess. I should have done so much more work over the weekend.

I am feeling more rested and sane, though, so I'll try not to grudge the time as wasted. Sound good? OK. I agree.

Good night loves,
Teh Kenzie

5,700 twinkies, or 3/4 of a tonsillectomy

So. Apparently Danielle is also writing a young adult fantasty novel! We had a great mini-conversation about it before Med. Ren. Lit. started this morning (she'd been talking to Professor Perrin, whom I'd told about my book, and so she found out about my book, and all was funness). She's thinking about spurring on its progress by doing the novel in november thing, which means 1600 words a day. She said she knew someone who did it once... "he started twitching and hunching over." I think she's nuts, but in a completely fabulous way. And Devin Thomas? Gets up two hours earlier than required every day to spend time writing for himself. I feel like both of them would be really great writing group members (Devin is part of my advanced writing group, but it's not quite the same thing). Anyway, so I'm not the only one! Woot!

Did you know? Indiana Jones is Denied Tenure. You should check out this peerless publication.

Bill Jay:
"Swedish researchers have concluded that exposure to art can ease constipation. Their test subjects met every week for four months to view and discuss visual art. At the end of the course they showed a wide range of physical benefits including more regular bowel movements. [...] the researcher of the art group recorded more 'positive attitudes,' lower blood pressure and its members used fewer laxatives."

"of course in my execrable French I had probably asked him if he would please flog me with a corpse."

"artists seem to know no limits to their verbal inanities. When asked about her artistic ambitions, Vanessa Williams said she wanted to 'paint with all the colors of the wind.' Very poetic, but gibberish all the same. No one has ever asked me about my artistic ambitions, but now I'm ready, just in case. I want to photograph with all the tastes of sunshine. I want to record all the sounds of fog. I want to feel all the smells of whistling." (One wonders whether he's ever seen Pocahontas... I would be interested to know whether his response would be the same if he knew the source of the remark was not Vanessa Williams' own brain.)

And finally, Able and Baker made me laugh out loud in the middle of the library again....

Also, can't forget this, Dad's birthday was on Monday! Wooh! Party! = D

Alright loves. Remind me to tell you the rest of today's funny quote harvest. Sometime. When research for all of my classes is not eating my brains (I have the Donne research paper, research for my Photo II final project, and two Composition Theory and Pedagogy projects to research, one due in two weeks, one for the end of the semester. Did I mention that research makes me want to stab my eyes out?).

"what's your face doing?!"

- Liz Laribee to Jean Corey in the middle of class discussion

Hey loves. I gots to run and write me some papers, but I wanted to share this little tidbit from my photography reading with you:

"One thing I've learned over the years - at least in photography - is patience. I don't think I'm as patient in other areas of my life. One of my biggest enemies was myself. If I walked into a situation and did not see something wonderful and 'designy' and shiny to photograph, I would start beating up on myself. That would only lead me downhill. After a while I realized that I could arrive on the scene at 7 o'clock in the morning and I would play this gamed called 'find the picture.' I would sooner or later find one. I learned to just wander around, look at stuff for four or five hours - and there it would be.

There is a rhythm to everything - and that is true to life and work in these cow camps. After a while I would recognize what I wanted to shoot, and I would do what I needed to do without being obstrusive or directing people or manipulating things in any way. That kind of approach, at least for me, works well. Many photographers are micro-managers. They like to go out and set things up and direct people around. I'm not a director. I'm an observer."

- Adam Jahiel

Also, you should look up David Fokos and Scott Campbell. 'Cause the work I found of theirs in LensWork is pretty much amazing.

"bam, swoosh, checks everywhere!"

- Kristin Widener

I feel kind of manic BECAUSE GUESS WHAT IT'S FRIDAY! And I had a large cup of coffee, and a good laugh at Andy Bale, Daniel Finch, and Brent Good (to whom I confessed that I did his research paper the night before, which was probably not wise, but I am what you might call SLAPHAPPY). Poor Daniel Finch was talking about some distracting elements in a photograph (he thought it should have been cropped somewhat differently) and we accumulated a group of about eight college students laughing hysterically about it and quoting Finding Nemo. He was a little embarrassed I think, and left until they all dispersed, and then I went and told him I was done laughing now and we finished having a little critique. I got a lot of great feedback, and everyone kept telling me how smart the sequence was, although obviously not perfect (I got a lot of good feedback and criticism), so my self-esteem is really high right now.

And I love that professors start relating to you as an equal if you just assume they will, and if you challenge them occasionally and act responsibly and speak articulately (Andy Bale said my proposal about my end-of-semester project was one of the most thoughtful he'd ever gotten). And I also invited Andy Bale and his wife over for dinner, and they said they'd come (we just have to figure out when) so that's really cool too, and I'm looking forward to it.

I take it back. I do feel different now that I'm 20. Or maybe it's because I'm a junior, who knows? But I feel like I can talk to professors as a fellow adult, and like they're starting to take me seriously. I also feel like I have more freedom with my work. I don't have a voice quite yet, but there are definitely things I'd like to explore, and I don't feel bad rejecting professors' suggestions about the directions I should take (sometimes, at least). I guess what I mean by that is that I feel like I own my work more. Like no matter what the assignment, I can work in my own kind of fun. Or I feel more daring about saying things I want to say rather than constantly trying to determine what the professor wants to hear, or something. Does that make sense? Hopefully yes.

This week has been full of grace, you know that? It could have been so much worse. I didn't have breakdowns, I turned in some decent work, I even had a little bit of fun today. Obviously, I don't want to be this sleep-deprived all the time, but for everything that needed to get done, I feel like it went really, really well. I have a boatload of work to do over the weekend, but I'm definitely not going to let it interfere with my sleep.

Lots and lots of loves to all,
Teh Kenzie

"itty-bitty salad dressing!"

-Jess

You Are Pecan Pie Soda

Sweet, but totally nuts

What Jones Holiday Soda Are You?

Well, we knew the nutty part already....

You Should Get a MFA (Masters of Fine Arts)

You're a blooming artistic talent, even if you aren't quite convinced. You'd make an incredible artist, photographer, or film maker.

What Advanced Degree Should You Get?

Already on my way, thanks very much.

You Are Not Scary

Everyone loves you. Isn't that sweet?

How Scary Are You?

Oh, my self-esteem is now soaring.

Your Hair Should Be Orange

Expressive, deep, and one of a kind. You pull off "weird" well - hardly anyone notices.

What's Your Funky Inner Hair Color?

Heh. I wish.

I'm not avoiding my assignments at all...

Can I complain? Just a little? I'm totally burnt out today. If I can just make it to tomorrow... if I can just finish this bibliography....

Today, though, happy things happened. I got eight hours' of sleep, checked some things off my list, got a package from home, and found out that my i-pod analogous device holds practically my whole music library. I currently have 213 songs on it, and that's just over a third of the memory space, according to a handy little toolbar. Cool, no? I'm excited.

"style is being yourself," quentin crisp said, "but on purpose."

And Crystal Downing has plenty of it (style, that is... although probably purpose too). She did a reading tonight of some of her film articles, and it was actually really interesting. And she got choked up at the end of one of her articles, which I think is the cutest thing ever. She can't be that scary if she gets choked up. She's also a lot funnier when she's not in class. I don't think I actually believed that she had a sense of humor before. My favorite quote from the night? "I saw Chicken Run and thought, 'That is a perfect example of postmodern communitarism.' " Haven't the faintest what communitarism is, but it was definitely funny. It made me feel better about connecting John Donne and the Vagina Monologues in my research paper for Med. Ren. Lit.

I was trying to figure out today why I felt like crap, and then I realized: since Sunday, I've gotten fifteen hours of sleep (sixteen if you count the day I couldn't stay awake in Med. Ren. Lit.). And then I also realized I'd only had a cup of coffee for breakfast this morning at 6 (I loathe breakfast foods), and it was, at the time of this rumination, 1:30 p.m. Hm, four hours of sleep... no food... yeah, that would be why my body hates me.

I'm rather proud of myself that I haven't broken down or cried at all yet. There's certainly plenty of pressure, and I was late with all of my projects for my workstudy job, and I asked for an extension in Photography II (first extension I have ever asked for in my entire life), and still not a tear. And I still have three large projects to finish for tomorrow and Friday. Here's hoping the spell of calmness lasts. I have got to get a full night's sleep tonight, though, or I'm going to lose it.

Another professorial quote that gets full marks: "Mina Shaughnessy is so way cool - but she's dead." -Jean Corey. Maybe it was the delivery. Speaking of delivery, did you know Liz Laribee once accidentally mailed something to Croatia?

dragons, are your teeth falling out during battle? get poligrip denture adhesive!

Fall break, fall break, doot-do-doot-do-doot-do. (You can't see me, obviously, but I'm singing a little song and doing the happy dance, which consists of waving my hands in circles and swaying side to side to an imaginary ice-cream truck beat.)

If you laugh during research when you read: "Petrarchan poetry tends to loop back onto the reflexive theme of Petrarchan poetry," then you're either an English major who studied under Crystal Downing, or you're seriously sleep-deprived. I think it might be both....

Mmm, so, life is going pretty good right now. I'm not getting enough sleep, but maybe I'm used to that. I have a boatload of work to do over break, of course. My abusive boyfriend (read: art major) is treating me pretty well right now, actually. We'll see how it goes as I start working on the next project. The Minnemingo deadline is today, and I'm still not sure whether I really want to submit anything, and if so, what I would submit....

Meh. It will work out.

Did you notice? I used ellipses today. Hmmm.

a midsummer night's wookie

Coconut rice? Equals uber good community luncheon. Seeing people in Philly also equals uber good. Wasting time this morning? Felt uber good, probably not uber good for the overall state of my mental health.

Postsecret? An uber-interesting collaborative art project of sorts, which we discussed in our composition theory & pedagogy class. Sometimes really disturbing, but very very interesting.

Lunch? Oh so uber ready. And me? Oh so uber hungry. What an uber-ly felicitous combination.

"steve, why is the golem making out with a car?"

Ok, so, I'm headed to Philly! Wooh! I'll be back on... Saturday night sometime. And Sunday will be spent doing ridiculous amounts of homework.

I thought of another way to inconvenience awkward makeout couples. Walk up to any making-out couple (go on, there are plenty of them around, just try and choose a nonviolent looking pair), and deliver, with as much panache as you can muster, a strange sex fact. Statistics would also probably work, as long as they were sufficiently bizarre. I haven't quite worked out the best method of leaving the scene, however. Further advice will be forthcoming.

Annie Dillard's advice to young writers: "Never, ever get yourself into a situation where you have nothing to do but write and read. You'll go into depression. You have to be doing something good for the world, something undeniably useful; you need exercise, too, and people."

My favorite new factoid about the Spartan women of old? They were apparently called "those who dare to reveal their thighs" by other, less bold, greek women. Factoid brought to you by Ruth, official broadener of horizons of the Simple Living House. Yes, we actually started a facebook group about our house, titled "Simple (simply crazy) living house"... with rather pointed disclaimers that "'crazy living' does not include drinking, smoking, wild sex, or any other violation of the community covenant." Just to make that clear. Although we do tend to discuss infractions of the community covenant fairly frequently.

Ok, it's off to get more of my favorite caffeinery sauce (and change the laundry).

to sleep, perhance to dream, aye, there's the rub

You might accidentally not get up when your alarm goes off. And get ten hours of sleep, which is great, but I really needed to be in the darkroom instead.

My norton anthology was actually funny last night. It was talking about the crazy consecutive changes in religion that happened in England during the reign of Henry VIII (took catholicism into his own hands, away from the pope) and his children (very very protestant son, very very catholic daughter, conservative protestant daughter who made the church more like the anglican church is today). Now, those changes in and of themselves may not be funny, but the editor's conclusion is: "It was enough to make people wary. Or skeptical. Or extremely agile."

Now, if there's one thing I expect from the norton anthology, it's boredom (and it always, faithfully, delivers). Who knew that the editors were actually human, with a sense of humor and the guts to insert a joke into the anthology of doom (I swear, that thing weighs as much as a hippo)?

i woke up from a dream about an empty funeral

but it was better than the party full of people i don't really know....

I probably start too many posts with the word "blarg." But can I give an emphatic blarg here? (haha... blarg on the blog, get it? I know. Terrible pun. Anyway.) Research makes me want to stab my eyes out. Primary problem: I am unable to come up with a unique reading of anything. Or else I get really interested in a part of the text that no one has done anything on before. Which would be fine if I was merely writing an interpretive paper, but when you're writing a research paper, you've got to be able to incorporate research into it (how's that for absurd?).

Other than research, my life is peachy. I found out that the English honors society is called Sigma Tau Delta, so their acronym is STD. Talk about unfortunate. Probably they refer to it as the chapter name, Sigma Upsilon. Then they could abbreviate it SUp. And be all... hip, you know.

on the brink of this destruction, on the eve of bittersweet

Hi.

Yes, it's me again. I hope you enjoyed the poem. If you didn't read it, you should. It's one that poem-experts and peom-haters alike can appreciate.

I feel like I'm having kind of a vocational crisis. That is, I'm firmly convinced that I can't do anything I want to do with my life. I can't be an artist, I can't be a poet, I can't be a writer, or a teacher, because I simply lack all the skill sets and talents needed for any of the above mentioned careers. I think I might be good at being a nun, though, except that I'd work on my book instead of praying, probably.

Has anybody ever heard of Duane Michals before? He'd probably offend most of you, but he makes the craziest sequences... and I'm kind of jealous that he combined words and photographs before I got around to it. And that he smashes genre and documentary considerations with ease on his way to self-expression. But I think I might like him a lot in spite of my jealousy.

Also? Today is Jenn's birthday! Happy birthday Jenn of the twenty years old! (Haha, now you're old, too!) And may it be filled with twenty times more fun and twenty times less homework than the year before. = )

"introduction to poetry"

I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slide

or press an ear against its hive.

I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,

or walk inside the poem's room
and feel the walls for a light switch.

I want them to waterski
across the surface of a poem
waving at the author's name on the shore.

But all they want to do
is tie the poem to a chair with rope
and torture a confession out of it.

They begin beating it with a hose
to find out what it really means.

- Billy Collins

nuttier than a pecan pistachio peanut butter sandwich

Apparently, on second thought, the survey decided I was a d100. And, hence, a "hyperactive, manic loon." Or maybe I just find them funny.

Bill Jay, quoting some other dude: "There is something bloody fishy about existence."

Also Bill Jay:

"I have been undergoing psychological analysis for the past year in order to discover who I am.
"It worked.
"I am now able to reveal for the first time in public that, in actuality, I am Madonna.
"And that's not all. I have discovered that I am also Napoleon, and Elvis."

And my favorite advice from Bill Jay (part of an essay on how artists ought to talk about their work), is as follows:

"Now the beauty of these incomprehensible chunks of verbal offal is that they are useful in any circumstances, not only to describe your own image as it is being scrutinized, upside down, by a baffled gallery director, but also for impressing dates. What you do is this: meander around an art gallery and come to a jarring halt (enough to startle your date and capture his or her attention), squint at a particularly hideous piece, scratch your chin thoughtfully, bend at the waist and, without taking your eyes from a blob in the lower left corner, move crab-like to within a few inches, then slowly back up and mutter (loud enough to be heard by all - but as if musing to self. This takes practice.): "An interesting semiotic subversion of multicultural contextualization...."

Yes, he's pretty fabulous. Also, the Liz, I left you a message on your phone, but let me know for sure what's up. And Sharon, a parking pass would be much appreciated. I left you a message on your blog, but I wasn't sure if you meant for fall break or when we all come up for the gaming (when I think Amy is planning to drive). So let me know about that too.

Ethan has kidney stones, so we're not actually presenting tomorrow... our teacher was super nice and let us move it back to Monday. I forgive all and every bit of any disorganization I may have complained about earlier. So thank you, Jean Corey.

i don't have a line of prospects that can give some kind of peace

Can I just say - yes, again - that I flipping love the new Jars of Clay album?

Ooh, I had this fabulous excerpt from "Occam's Razor" that I was going to 'read' to you, but it'll have to wait until next time, because I kind of forgot to bring the book with me to the computer lab. He writes pretty much some of the funniest diatribes about contemporary photographic criticism that I've ever heard. (Granted, he is the first contemporary photo critic I've ever read)

I agreed to talk to Prof. Perrin's FYS classes tomorrow. Now I'm kind of kicking myself. Because here I am, one day before hand, and I have no idea what to say. And I know that I'm going to get up there and just blank. I'd really like to bring in physical objects to pass around to illustrate what I'm talking about, but I'm not sure what I'm saying, so it makes it kind of hard ot find physical objects. Prof Perrin suggested talking about the way poetry affects my life both intellectually and imaginatively, and that it's relevant to me and stuff. So I thought, since poetry is all about investing the abstract into the concrete, I would bring in physical objects to invest my talk in. So by example, not just words, I'm showing them that poetry can be relevant. Tricky, eh? Eh?

Anyway. So I would make a silly and ridiculous professor. So what? Don't stare, it isn't polite.

I like that my housemates laugh when I open my mouth and say ridiculous things. And that we have crazy dance parties in the kitchen while we're making dinner. And that we have tea-time. And it's just really nice to be able to talk to a fellow double major about the problems. I think we should start a support group for doubel majors. I'm really kind of getting sad that I'm going to Italy, and that they're graduating....

i am going to steal me a geniune pirate peg-leg

Right after I finish all my crapping homework. In the good news department, I've finished everything that'd actually due for a class tomorrow. Also, I "fixed" the sunroof on my car, all by myself, without going out and having to find a mechanic or something. And by "fixed," I mean that it doesn't actually work, but it's not stuck open anymore. And that was all I really wanted. I should also check the oil, now that I'm thinking about it... remind me, will you?

I think it must be bad that after reading essays about photography, all I can think is, "he didn't know much about postmodernism, did he?" It was an essay by Bill Jay, and I think he had reasonable advice, but I disagree completely with the theoretical framework he used to get there. Is that odd? Anyway.

Yeah, I don't really have interesting news. I just felt like talking, because I feel mildly sane today. And being mildly sane is so great I thought I'd share it with all of you.

Although maybe I should join the wave of D&D blogging. And say that when I give out points, I'm really giving out Pretty Pony RPG point. Pretty sure Ruth, Jess, and Bethy are secretly level 3 by now.

did you know?

There's a facebook group called "Crystal Downing: It's not English class. It's heteroglossia, fool!"

I joined. And I formally award a hundred points to the freshman who started it, and at least 50 to Ruth Kitchin for drawing my attention to it.

"if the human condition was a hairstyle, it'd be a mullet of malcontent."

Quote brought to you from the wonderful makers of Able and Baker.

Rarr. My major is eating my soul and my workload is eating my soul, and I'm not getting enough sleep, and my coffee tastes like plastic, because I poured it into the bottle while it was still hot.

But maybe life will get better?

I'm really nervous to meet with Prof. Bale today, because I'm turning in images I don't like, and I'm trying to prep myself to be honest about the frustrations of the darkroom (which is hard, because I want him to like me, right? And complaining is not the best way to get someone to like you). And also, I feel like running out of RC paper in the middle of a project is not the circumstance most guaranteed to win your professor's approval.

Also, we turned on the heat for the first time last night. Ordinarily, I would be all for this circumstance. But, you see, we have these really old school radiators, and when the heat is on it sounds like water boiling, and even, at times, like a teakettle whistling shrilly. So I kept waking up in the night, thinking, "Who the heck is making tea?" And apparently when you set an old school radiator at 70 degrees, it doesn't work out quite right. Because it was DEFINITELY too warm at some point last night, and Bethy got up to open the window. Making it really cold in our room this morning around 6.

I know, I know, get over it. Deal with life like a grown-up now that you're twenty. Well, I'm trying. And I think waiting almost a third of the way through the semester before breaking down is pretty respectable. Compared to... the... first week. Or something.

"what sholde he studye and make himselven wood?"

Yesterday Liz called me. She said, "Hey, we're standing outside [some Philly art museum]. Do you know who made the Thinker?" And I said, "Rodin, I think."

The end. Well, I mean, I listened to them debate whether to go into the Rodin museum or the entire museum, and then we said goodbye, and that was the end of the conversation. To borrow Bethy's words: "Up it so much cracked me." Or, to use the vernacular, as it, um, as it were, "I thought it was pretty hysterical." Even though maybe I'm wildly jealous that they live in a place with tons of art museums (by which I really mean I thought wistfully of an afternoon at an art museum rather than an afternoon with the Norton Anthology of English Literature, Volume 1, Eighth Edition).

As you might be able to tell from the title (if you're wildly well educated or just a serious English geek), Chaucer is currently eating my soul. (Basically the quote means "Why should he study and make himself crazy?" And that, my dear friends, is the question of the week.) We're reading him in, if not the strictly original English, pretty darn close to the original Middle English. Samuel Smith was reading it aloud today, and it's really very musical. Sounds vaguely Irish (by which I mean the vowels are very Scottish sounding, but not nearly so much as Old English, and the rhythm/emphasis pattern is very much like a heavy Irish accent).

I feel much better at the beginning of this week, even if I'm not precisely excited that it's Monday again, due primarily to some serious self-dosing with chccolate, fiction, and sleep. So let's keep our fingers crossed, yeah? That maybe I'll be sane, and that the Petunia time of month will not descend on my birthday.

Much love,
The Kenzie

to limn

OK. This is not going to be a whiny post. This is going to be a freaking angry post. This, this right here, this is me ranting. OK, go ahead, laugh, but I'm going to be angry anyway.

Don't you hate it when you wake up in the morning, look at all the work you did last night, and say, "I can't believe I spent five hours making that." Because, y'know, in the light of day it looks like crap.

I'm so tempted to just say "I'm dropping the art major." Because let's face it, I don't have talent. And I'm tired of beating my head against a brick wall. The only problem with this? I might suck at English, too, and just not know it yet. I got a B+ on my summer collage. A B+. From Helen Walker. Who likes me. And no one laughed at the noire bit! Not one single person! It's like they've never even seen "Double Indemnity" or listened to Garrison Keiller's rendition of "Guy Noire." I suck and I hate it and I'm ready to be done with the sucking now, OK? Do you hear me, cosmic power with the sadistic sense of humor?

Ok. I'm calm. I swear I'm calm. "Sadistic" reminds me of a funny story from Comp. Theory. Some kid was talking about a German word that means "to take pleasure in another's pain," and how we don't have a word for that in English. And Liz Larribee, who's pretty much amazing, jumps in with, "Sadism?"

There, you happy? Funny story. See, I may be pissed, but I still have a sense of humor, OK? So take that.

P. S. So now I went to Comp. Theory and discovered that hey, WE'RE NOT ACTUALLY HAVING CLASS! So I lost sleep for homework that's NOT EVEN DUE UNTIL MONDAY! I have a few hysterical-type giggles bubbling up inside somewhere. Along with a lot of crying. And the urge to nap relentlessly.

messiah college - the christian college with a kosher name

How's that for pretty amazing? Bethy and Jess and I decided we'd be willing to put up with cheerleaders just so they could shout that as our slogan at every sports event.

I'm pretty much stressing out. Trying really hard to be calm and rational and reasonable, but not really succeeding. I'm sure that fun things have happened this week, but I can't think of any. Tunnel-vision (a la Jesus College) has set in with a vengeance. So maybe I won't go back to the house for dinner. One, because then I'd probably have to cook my own dinner (which takes time) and Two, because I'd spend an hour talking to my housemates, which is also not an efficient use of my time. The Union? They do have super good wraps. And pretty yummy chicken fingers, too.

OK. Good. I know now what I think about dinner. Thank you, invisible listeners. = )

Teh Kenzie

P.S. ...It is now 11:45, and I'm done making prints! None of them are stellar, but they're all done. Now all I've got left is Composition Theory work! There is a strong possibility I will get at least 5 hours' sleep tonight.

you may be a short order cook, fixing grits and toast

So yesterday my throat hurt, and today I woke up with a full-blown cold. Probabilities are high that tomorrow I will feel even worse. However, with the ongoing aid of cold medicine, kleenex, juice, soup, naps, and easy mac, I can hopefully make it through classes tomorrow and avoid it becoming a sinus infection. And I keep telling myself that it could be so much worse. I could have strep throat or the flu instead (puking in the mac lab is not encouraged). But I am a little grumpy, let's be honest. Professor Dzaka said he wasn't feeling well on Friday, so I probably have the same thing he's got.

I only have Digital Studio homework yet, and hopefully I'll be home and in bed by 10 or so. That would make me happy and probably kill a few cold germs.

Loves to everyone...
The Kenzie

the piece of crap camera that could

Holgas are apparently a great way of starting conversations. For those of you to whom I haven't explained this yet, a Holga is a camera. It's a plastic camera with no batteries. It takes 6x6 centimeter film rather than the typical 35mm format. It has massive parallax error (what you use to sight the photograph is not anywhere near what the actual lense is seeing), only two aperture settings (one for sunny days, one for not-so-sunny days) and four focus options (One for objects three feet away, nine feet away, eighteen feet away, and anything beyond that - apparently anything beyond eighteen feet is called "infinity"). Oh, and did I mention that they're famed for their light leaks? They're a cult phenomenon, and you buy a Holga if you want a camera with personality (most likely one that will fight tooth and nail against taking technically good pictures). Now, don't get me wrong, I think Holgas take some fabulous pictures. But getting a fabulous picture from a Holga is like taming a wild cat. It takes a loooooong time for the two of you to get acquainted, and even when you learn each other's quirks, there's no guarantee the cat will let you pet it or even be around for more than a day in any given month.

I'm borderline between fabulously excited and amazingly terrified. I guess using a Holga camera will make me less of a control freak? Or cause me to spend a million dollars in film so that I can get just one good picture.

Help?
The Kenzie

"oh man, i think i just blogged. did i blog? i'm sorry, internets. i'm sorry for blogging."

-Jeph Jacques

I decided today that I don't have time for a fling. Work is piling up at a ridiculous rate. And by "ridiculous rate," I really meant to say "eat-your-soul-cry-every-day-decide-to-become-a-nun ridiculous rate."

Also, I am a bad person. I saw Dr. Miller in the hallway today and purposefully tried not to catch his eye and be absorbed in my day planner because I was afraid he'd ask me about my spiritual life and I'd end up doing a lot of silly crying and things. So tomorrow I'm going to go visit him to make up for it. Because he's a super amazing person and I really do like him a lot, I just don't like talking about my spiritual life. Because I tend to cry. Sometimes I wish I believed in penance. Anyway. That was my "Sorry internets for blogging" moment of the day.

So I'm going to go do my work instead of whining about it. How's that sound? Good. Loves to all and I really miss you....
The Kenzie

these fragile bodies of touch and taste

So. I had an ER scare, but it was OK because in the end I didn't actually have to go to the ER. Basically, freshmen have bad aim, and I got hit in the neck/base of the skull with a frisbee on Friday night, and had a lot of symptoms that mean you need to go get an MRI... but they started getting better after a coupla hours, so I didn't go after all. Also, a completely charming boy flattered me and said it must have been the ol' hit-a-pretty-girl-with-a-frisbee-so-you-can-talk-to-her trick. He's a ridiculous boy, but also funny.

And Liz called me yesterday, which made my day. We decided we need to have flings this semester, so I've been making a list of possible candidates (and by "possible" I mean it would be really funny to start dating them randomly). There's Ethan, a charming articulate English boy who's in my Composition Theory class (English as in English major, not as in from England), and there's Chad, who is the base flatterer mentioned above (and obviously not our Chad, who is happily married). And I'm so going to rue mentioning them by name when I find out they have girlfriends or are completely unsuitable for dating, but what the heck, you only live once. And if we're going to have flings, they might as well be unwise flings (because that's the purpose of a fling).

Our house has been rocking on its foundations the past couple of days. Veronica's boyfriend Tony came to visit (wow, that sounds kind of bad, doesn't it? But I didn't mean it that way), and we threw a couple of birthday parties, so people were running in and out and in and out and playing guitars (Chad also plays very nice guitar and makes up his own music. Cool, no?) and making curries and stir fries and cakes and tea and hot chocolate and watching Firefly (Ruth has the whole thing on DVD, so I can finish watching it! Woot!) and having drama over boys (Both Kristin and Jess are dealing with guys who want to date them but they don't want to date. Poor things. They both have a mantra of "boys are stupid. We hate boys. Boys are dumb" going on, just about 24/7). It's pretty fantastic. And Bethy's fiance is both the sweetest and the most sarcastic person on the face of the earth. He comes and picks her up for two dates in two days with real roses (one white and three red). And then makes fun of everyone. But since Bethy likes him so much, I think we're all OK with that.

Anyway, all that goes to say that it's a miracle I've gotten any homework done at all. And that I don't think this year is going to be boring at all. And also, I don't think I'll have trouble meeting new people... there are tons over at our house, all the time. The nice thing about that is that if I feel claustrophobic or un-people-ish, all I have to do is retreat upstairs (where boys are absolutely taboo, and even the girl guests kind of stay out). So it's a totally nonthreatening environment to meet people in.

Also, there are advantages to living with two senior English majors. 1) they know all the answers to my classes, and 2) they diagram sentences late at night as a joke. I think that might be one of THE most FABULOUS things I've ever heard.

i write out of indigestion

We did a choral reading in Advanced Writing yesterday, and that was my sentence to say.

Classes are interesting. Life is hectic. I miss my people, but it's OK. We're having a riotous good time at the Bertram house, especially after 11. That's when everyone gets a collective attack of the munchies and we congregate in the kitchen for (mostly junk) food and hilarity. Last night's topic was very petunia. [See that? Take note! Take warning! This is going to be pretty girly] In point of fact, we were discussing lingerie parties, and how Ruth would probably love one before she got married, but Bethy most certainly would not (she threatened to be permanently the color of our scarlet table cloth if we dared throw her one). And we decided the best lingerie of all was obviously a ski suit, complete with mask and goggles.

OK. Petunia over. As time rolled closer to midnight, Jessie got out the keebler cookies (you know the ones shaped like elves with chocolate in the middle?). She grabbed a cookie, poured a mug of milk, and dunked the elf in it, telling us that it was impossible to eat an elf-shaped cookie any other way. Then she started making glubbing and drowning noises as she dunked the hapless cookies one by one headfirst in her mug of milk. And we died laughing. Jessie has these great hand motions, and this great infectious laugh that you can hear half a mile away, so we just couldn't help it.

And you know? The best stress-reliever of all is laughing. Exercise seems to work for some people, music for others, but gosh, have a good laugh and you'll be surprised how many muscles relax and how energized you feel. It's like spiritual healing from homework. It's fabulous. (I never thought anyone could manage to use that word in a non-gay-sounding way, but Jessie manages it, somehow.)

The weather here is also fabulous.

a dresser drawer

I am here at Messiah College! I am, unfortunately, not fully installed in my house. The reason? They didn't bring a sixth dresser, wardrobe, or desk to the house. And at one point there wasn't a sixth bed, either, although they remedied that before I arrived, thank goodness. So today I called Doug Woods and put a bug in his ear, and he said I should have furniture by the end of the week at the latest, and hopefully by the end of today. In the meantime (Did I spell that right? It looks wrong), the vast majority of my belongings are still just hanging out in my car.

Also, the house has no air conditioning. So it's really hot in there. And that's going to take some getting used to. It really is a super cute house, though, and I think once we have a couple of days, or maybe a week, to settle in, I'm going to like living there. I was kind of depressed last night because I spent three hours stuck in traffic (the 7 hour trip from my aunt & uncle's house to here took me 10 hours) and then didn't have furniture so I couldn't even unpack and when I got to the house there was no one there. But then we had bonding time + tea, and they assured me that I could get more furniture, and I slept and feel much better. Although you can tell I'm still nervous, because I'm talking in run-on sentences.

Lots of loves,
Mackenzie

Are you sure it's time for school to start? you didn't, you know, accidentally tear two months at once off our calendar?

i'm not lazy, i'm relaxed

I am the proud owner of a crockpot! A lovely, 5-quart crockpot. And a teapot. And three mugs (but I've had those for a while).

And I really did start packing. I made almost no progress, but I started, which I think deserves accolades... from some... national accolades-for-packing service.

Has anyone else enjoyed AskANinja.com? Not always hysterical, but hysterical at least 75% of the time.

You know what I discovered yesterday? I'm terrible at figuring out sportswear. I went to get some shorts for aerobics class (I know. It's horrible. I'm actually going to have to shave on a regular basis. I'm thinking of getting that laser hair-removal thing when I grow up. It would save hours and hours of my time every week.) and there were so many options, and so many bike shorts masquerading as actual shorts that it was a very aggravating task. Also, the wearing of the sports-empowering undergarments as garments in and of themselves? Not so much for me.

Sorry, I just realized how incredibly girly that last paragraph was. I should start posting a warning right before I start talking about clothes or shaving. Or PMS. Ooh, let's have a poll! Should the warning word be:

A: Couscous
B: Lemon
or
C: Petunia

does the rain have a mother?

I do! And mine is telling me I should start packing. I also have a little anti-mother in my head, though, that says, "Three days before you have to move back to Pennsylvania, and you haven't packed a single bag, box, or suitcase? No problem. Just chill. You've only got three more days to chill." You can guess which one's right, and also which one I really want to listen to.

is the mole the explicator of the lawn?

I was reading about Eleanor Wilner today (the above quote is from her poem "The Interview") and she sounds really interesting. Just as a side note.

My two favorite titles ever? I think they'd boil down to "What Narcissism Means to Me" and "Invincible Obsessed Fighter". The first is my favorite because it's some crazy intellectual wordplay (even though I have no idea what the actual book is about), and the second is my favorite because it's so very, very terrible in both title and premise. "Invincible Obsessed Fighter" is a kung-fu movie set in China. The protagonist? According to the back of the movie, he's named Chuck. Yes, he's named Chuck, even though the movie is set in China. The protagonist's father? He's called Fat Ho. Not even kidding. I find myself hoping that it's some kind of comedy, and maybe IMDB just accidentally listed its genre as action/drama. In any case, I might rent it. Just for the sheer, hysterical pleasure of saying I've seen a movie called "Invincible Obsessed Fighter."

Is it a measure of my dorkiness that I consistently have at least four tabs open at once when I'm on the internet? And when I'm blogging, the number jumps closer to eight. I knew you'd all be wildly interested in this new and brilliant observation.

Am I still looking forward to school? Oh, sure. About as much as I want to pack all of my crap into a tiny green car for the fourth time.

Who else is totally in love with the singing Snickers commercial? It's pretty much the most amazing thing ever. Dad's reaction? "He's playing a left-handed guitar right-handed." I was reminded of it by today's Able and Baker. Rock on regional nougat sculpting contests.

I think this quote deserves inclusion in today's blog post: "Luke! I am the excrutiating smell in your life!"

Also, I'm done upholstering!!!!!!!!!! Hands are kind of sore... but the chair looks a full 85% better. Someday I'll post the before and after pictures. But today, I deem this post to have gone on fully long enough (and maybe too long).

varying degrees of draconic fierceness: climate as affecting heat and intensity of dragon flame

I would like to write that essay. Jenn suggested it (give credit where credit is due, and also wild plaudits for great senior thesis paper ideas). Don't you think Crystal Downing (heteroglossia!) would love reading that paper? Probably a lot would get lost in filtration... but it could still be fun!

Five days from heading back to school and I think the adrenaline is finally kicking in. Today, I might even get some things done. Go me.

Quotes from the weekend 'camping' trip:

"We could go... count coupe on a grizzly bear."

"My dream is to be a chicken-juggler."

"I have to Mike Wallace, for real!"

"Oh look! It's little teenage punks!"
"Hi, teenage punks!"

"A lot more than I thought got lost in filtration."

"That closet smells good. You should just leave it open and... have a barbecue."

"i see the boogers of postmodernism everywhere!"

-Jenn

We're going out of towns for a coupla days. So loves and farewells and things like that. I know you'll all miss me most sorely for the next... two days. I know I'll miss the internets.

I've discovered that I love randomly pluralizing things. I think it's the new waves of the English future. By which I mean, it's the newest, most fashionable way to corrupt our language! Woo!

"power suit, despite its laughable lack of titanium armor and proton guns"

- Terry Pratchett

"And worst of all, he talks in his sleep! 'I'm the mighty Inspector Japp, you can't escape from me! Grab that man, he's holding a blancmange!"
- Watson

Am I jealous of people who are dedicated? Yeah, I think so. Do I actually want to go out and be dedicated? No, not really. I'd just like to reap the rewards, thank you very much.

This summer has been great. I've done some things I like, and I've earned some money, and above all I've had plenty of time to kick back, relax, and waste time. So maybe my social life wasn't the most exciting, and so maybe I didn't actually make a lot of progress at anything, but it was still great.

And now I have to go back to school and be under stress and think about my GPA and homework and tests and projects and living up to expectations and getting at most seven hours of sleep a night. I put no commas in that sentence because in my head it sounds very panicked and comma-less.

I mean, learning things is great, but I just wish I was better at balancing slacker time and working time. Does this come with age? I hope so.

I was also thinking about communion. There's all that stuff in the Bible about taking communion in the right spirit, or the Holy Spirit will strike you dead. Yes, that's a wild paraphrase. But I was just wondering how many of us would still take communion every month (or every week, whatever tradition your church goes by) if we really believed that if we took it in the wrong spirit we'd be struck dead. I'd like to think I'm an honest person and really wouldn't take communion if I didn't feel like I should, but there's kind of a peer pressure about communion, just like there is about hot chocolate or drugs. If you don't take communion, people are going to ask you why. Or they're going to wonder if you were never baptized. They're going to think about it, note it down (because, after all, we watch each other the most during a solemn moment, to make sure we're reacting the right way). And church, in God's presence, of all places, is where you're supposed to belong, right? So why jeopordize belonging just because you don't feel particularly contrite or receptive or whatever the heck the right spirit is supposed to be?

I feel like I sound bitter about church. But I don't feel bitter. I thought I would note that down, since this is a blog and you can't hear my tone of voice. Also, Mom just told me to do the dishes, and maybe my irritation with actually having to do some kind of chore - I'm a college student! Omnipotent and free! I'm above chores! - overflowed into my blog post. I'm just trying to be realistic about the herd mentality of humanity, church or no church. I wonder if that makes God kind of like the dog whisperer? You know - he tries to assert himself as the leader of our pack so we'll stop peeing on the carpet and biting the other dogs. But we're kind of stupid dogs, and not at all good at being housebroken.

the spinal cord has everything under control

Or actually it might not. Because tonight I burned some rice. I didn't even know you could burn rice.

"When I was little, I put a lot of things in buckets." That's how my brother's autobiography should start. Mom was going through funny stories about Aaron's childhood for possible inclusion in some kind of essay, and a surprisingly huge amount of them involved him putting animals (the squirrel and mouse were alive. All of the fish were dead.) in buckets or jars. Also, one time when Mom was sick he made lunch for everyone: chips, carrots, and water. He was five.

Tomorrow begins the real work of upholstering. Yarrgh. (I'm a... re-upholstery pirate? Me left eye got stabbed out in pursuit of... the... elusive white chair? The elusive white man-eating chair! Yarr, I remembers it just like yesterday. It was fearsome in its floral fierceness....)

"For example, it recently emerged that the famous glass artist Dale Chihuly hasn't actually blown glass for 27 years. He has assistants do the work for him. But one of the most valuable sources of ideas in the visual arts is the resistance of the medium. That's why oil paintings look so different from watercolors. In principle you could make any mark in any medium; in practice the medium steers you. And if you're no longer doing the work yourself, you stop learning from this.

So if you want to beat those eminent enough to delegate, one way to do it is to take advantage of direct contact with the medium. In the arts it's obvious how: blow your own glass, edit your own films, stage your own plays. And in the process pay close attention to accidents and to new ideas you have on the fly."

my profile: shapely

That's what Aaron's new AIM profile says. And I feel prodigiously proud because I was there at that moment in time.

Another of my new favorite quotes is "Your Myspace Makes Me Want to Punch Babies." I was going to link to the fantastic little stick figure illustration that went with it, but I couldn't find it. I did, however, stumble upon a compilation of the stupidest myspace hairdoes ever, which was pretty entertaining. Do I support freedom of expression? You bet. Do I support hairdoes like those? Heck no!

Alrights, loves, I gotta go finish my laundry and also re-upholster and sew and pack and clean and all of those necessary but oh-so-unpleasant things.

Eleven days and counting.

contrition... yes.

Well, first off, Michigan was great. It was fantastic to see Jenn again, and I finally got to meet her boyfriend. (In my head, I still call him "Jenn's new boyfriend," even though they've been dating for something close to ten months now. I should probably start thinking of him by his name, which is Roy.) The week was over waaaay too quickly. We saw some good movies, and hung out at Lex (Lexington, Michigan. Near Lake Huron? They have a cottage there) and swam for all of five minutes. I should prolly get over my fear of swimming where things live. But it still rocked. And... what can I say? It was great. And I miss Jenn again already.

Going to Ohio was cool, too, if weird. I've been out of touch with my older cousins for a good three years at least. I remember them being a lot taller.... Anyway, so they're married! And I met their spouses! Weird. Also, another of my cousins got engaged during the party! And another of my cousins is having her second son this year. And one of the kids from Riverwood (our church in Michigan) that's pretty close to my age got married last Saturday, too. I think all of it gave Mom a little shock to the system - and made her super glad I'm not dating anyone right now. = )

It's getting to be that time of year again, where everyone gears up for school. In Bible Quizzing this year, they're studying Acts. Which takes me back. That was the first book I studied! Good times, good times. Makes me almost a little nostalgic, except that I really don't have time for quizzing, even if they had a college league.

The one thing that stresses me out most about going back to school this year is my independent study, Photo II. I e-mailed Andy Bale to see if he had a tentative schedule in mind, and what supplies I should order before I come to school, and have heard absolutely nothing from him. Dangit. I just hope that goes well, because if I hate him as a professor, I can't very well hide among the other students, can I?

It's also the time of year when I look back and evaluate my progress on my summer to-do list. I really didn't get very far teaching painting. We 're not even going to finish one painting before I go back to school. I could leave assignments for them, but I kinda doubt my students would comply with my parting instructions, even if they are related to me. I found out that ideal book length is between 70,000 and 75,000 words, and I only have close to 20,000 written, and I'm about halfway through plotting.

What do I need to finish before I go? I need to finish upholstering, finish Mom's skirt, pack up, buy some more notebooks and things, all of that good stuff. The countdown stands at 12 days, heaven help us all.

And also, I just got selected for jury duty... in October. In Harrisburg, PA. Maybe I can get out of it because I'm a student? And October is a school month? Aaron says he hopes I'd get a huge blockbuster murder case and have to be sequestered. Do you have any idea how much homework I'd have to catch up on?!

silence carries no apprehension here

Oh, I should probably also mention that I'm going to be gone until the 13th of August. To Ohio and Michigan. Wo0t. So if you need to get ahold of me... maybe e-mail? or the cell number if you have it, and if not... well, I don't really use my cell phone anyway. I'm easing onto the slippery slope of cell phone use so that hopefully it doesn't transform me into a rude hooligan of some sort.

The chair we're re-upholstering is now just a foam form waiting for the "re" part. Unfortunately I hit a lazy streak. And also I was planning and making a meal.

Also, in funny news, I asked my father to buy me some alcohol. White wine, to be exact. It sounds hysterical when you say it like that (me? conform to the teenage steriotype of getting someone to acquire booze for my consumption?), but really the salmon recipe just called for some. So it's quite ordinary and I have done no drinking (fear not, family members and conservative friends!). Trying to open the bottle this afternoon was pretty hysterical though, since we don't actually have a corkscrew. Luckily we did find a swiss army knife, handily equipped to deal with corks.

So! It's off to the wild northern hinterlands for me!

hey baby, let's get metaphysical

According to Jenn's recent blog, that's the worst pick-up line ever. Pretty hysterical, no?

Did you guys see the new visiting hours? Upperclassmen dorms have almost twice as many as the underclassmen dorms, and apartments have 12-12 every day. I wonder if the Simple Living house counts as an apartment or an upperclass dorm? Or maybe we count as neither, and can set whatever arbitrary visiting hours we want? We already decided upstairs is off-limits to guys, which I think is a fantastic idea (I mean, we have a whole house! No need for them to come poking around in our bedrooms and study room), but as to other guy-visiting-etiquette, we have been less than decisive. Of my 5 housemates, 2 are engaged, 1 probably will be very soon, 1 intends to become a nun, and 1 person is unattached. So we've all stages of commitment to accomodate.

Also, I had a donut for breakfast this morning. I'll lose those 5 pounds later.

as long as there is one smoldering coal in the barbecue of justice, we can still cook up a giant steak of victory!

Upholstery. Upholstery upholstery upholsteryupholsteryupholstery.

Upholstery is a hard word to spell several times in a row. So it's a good thing that as long as there is a single slice of meat on the deli tray of justice, our sandwich of righteousness will always be a low-fat and tasty victory!

You get at least twenty pionts if you can identify the source of either of those quotes, and another twenty if you don't laugh at me for quoting them.

We're re-upholstering this super ugly chair we have. And I'm earning all kinds of new blisters from the process. But it's kind of heartening to learn a real-life skill that you can put to practical use. Maybe if I can't find work as an artist after I graduate I could re-upholster things.

give me the learnings about the alphabets or i'll crush you!

No, I haven't been playing Civ III lately. Or any other version for that matter. I've been trying to figure out how I can stretch my fun stuff - writing my book, painting, doin' a little sewing, that kind of thing - into eight hours a day so I don't feel guilty.

That's the thing about having a job, even if it is only 20-30 hours a week. After it's over, I can just putter around and do what I feel like, and if I play some video games or read a fun book in between half hours of writing, who's to say I can't? I already worked for the day, right? Now it's kind of serious. I don't have a job, but if I make the massive investment of time into my book that I'd normally make to my job, maybe it'll be like an investment, and someday I'll be able to sell it and pay for college. Eight hours a day just seems like really a lot.

Also, I miss having a job because when I had one, I got out of mowing the lawn. = )

is there anybody's children can tell me?

OK. I'm over being laid off. It sucks to lose two and a half weeks' worth of paychecks, but whatever. I even declined to chuck the cake up against a wall, that's how over it I am.

I had the craziest dream last night. I was the queen of somewhere, and I got kidnapped, but I shot people with my cellphone and ran away, and I was running down this dryads' path, and people were chasing me, and I was all like "I"ll shoot you with my cell phone!", and then I climbed up a hill and onto an overhanging tree and jumped down on the people that were following me, and I made it back to my capital city, and so I was the queen again. And also I threw some people down the stairs at one point. But it was OK because nobody died, not even when I shot them with my cell phone (there was this huge lag, too, between hitting the down button to make it fire and the bullet actually coming out, so it was super hard to aim).

What will Mackenzie do on her newly-acquired month-long vacation? What will she babble about next? Nobody knows. But stay tuned to find out.

irony is going to a farewell party for your coworker and then finding out it's for you too. because you got laid off, but no one told you until now.

Irony is also coming home today and finding out that they called you and want you to come in, but not because they want you to work again - they just want you to come in and pick up the rest of the cake.

And I don't even like cake!

My life would make a great joke.

I'm a slacker pioneer riding across corporate america on a surly mule called manifest destiny!

Worst genre cross ever: Chewbacula, the vampiric wookie.

I'm not a genius, and it makes me really sad.

Apparently your brain mass is the greatest around 20 years old, and by the time you die, you've lost 10% of it. So I guess I'm at my intellectual prime, and I'm still not a genius.

Quincy the bipolar hamster says, "Self-doubt is like finding a turd in your taco," but I'm not sure what that means. Or if it really relates to this discussion.

But maybe I can be a good writer, even if I'm a bad artist and a not-genius?

To make up for the whininess of this post, I seeded some of my favorite episodes of Able & Baker into the text! Yay?

"pogonophobia" is the fear of beards

Or so says this new webcomic I started reading. Able and Baker, about a monkey and a sheep that are astronauts. So far, at any rate.

I broke 25 pages today! Woot!

My life seems simple, when my greatest acheivement of the summer can be stated in five words.

(Also according to Able and Baker, over 300 cases of spontaneous human combustion have been recorded.)

Me: Hey guys! Did you know nutmeg is poisonous if injected intravenously?
Dad: I'm just glad to find out before I tried it.

but i haven't eaten in eight hours, and food is food, even when it's not

I was thinking today how similar poetry and innuendoes are. I know it sounds absurd, but just think about it. They're both a mental exercise by which you pack more than one meaning into a word or series of words. And sometime's they're both about sex, but that's really kind of incidental. Structurally, they're the same thing. So does this mean that dirty comedians have a sort of repressed talent for poetry? This could revolutionize the world of language.

You can tell I need something else to do to occupy the intellectual part of my brain. When you're in the habit of analyzing language and asking "what if", but don't have that much language available to analyze, you end up asking some weird questions.

Um... 20 pages and counting. Today I think I'll end up with less than I guessed.

"You must either make up a short poem about how much this bothers you, or let each player, in the order you choose, draw one card from your hand."

a deep mathematical inevitability in the sound and texture of her lines

Said about Sylvia Plath. I always thought of Plath as "that woman who wrote suicide peoms," but what a misstatement. I checked out a book of hers, for what reason I'm not sure, and it's no surprise she won a pulitzer. She was crazy full of talent. And also depression, apparently. But she wrote really a lot of beautiful, strong things.

It's, what, eight days after I announced I was nearly at the midpoint of my book, and three days since I announced I had the hero at the mouth of the villain's lair, and I still haven't gotten through the middle yet. This whole conflict thing is more complicated than it looks. I know what happens at the end, so I have to somehow create a sequence of events where they don't die, but they still lose, and plant enough clues for them to figure out both his weakness and his evil plan. No wonder most villains are all taunting and talkative. It makes the author's job so much easier. Well, my villain isn't very talkative, and my hero only has a very limited sort of ESP, so it's difficult. I think in the end they're going to have to risk their necks on a ridiculous - sounding hypothesis simply because it's all I can think of and the world is about to end.

Well, my consolation is this: I've started typing it up (I want to have plenty of back up copies in different places before I lay it aside for the school year), and I might have more pages than I thought.

said the wren to the kitty-cat bird

Ten points to anyone who can identify who said that! And ten more if you can tell me where!

The biography channel has been having a lot of mysteries on lately. And I really really love it. It's fantastic. Murder She Wrote, Sherlock Holmes, Poirot, Marple, even some silly modern ones that I'd never heard of before. Sometime soon they're showing a bunch of Nero Wolfe, and that could be kind of cool, because I've never actually read any Nero Wolfe, and maybe I'll like him.

So, all that goes to say, I was watching a Sherlock Holmes today: "The Final Problem." (I'd warn you about spoilers, but I'm not sure this is a spoiler, for reasons that might spoil it if I said them and you really hadn't read the ending of this episode. Did that make sense? Anyway, if you haven't read any Sherlock Holmes yet, or don't want to know the ending of this episode until you read it yourself, skip this next paragraph.)

I really admire that he (Arthur Conan Doyle) killed off Sherlock Holmes. And I'm sad that people made him bring Holmes back. Because it really was the only inevitable conclusion to Holme's drug addiction, manic-depressive nature, and fierce solitude. And Moriarty and Holmes were so evenly matched that it's perfect that they kill each other. Maybe Moriarty would have been able to go on if he had killed his nemesis, but Holmes really would suffer for not having an intellectual equal. Killing Holmes was the best possible decision. The perfect example of keeping your authorial integrity. Just because everyone will be outraged and demand that you bring your character back doesn't mean that it wasn't right to kill him off. Thoughts, anybody else?

I was also thinking how much I love that actor who plays Holmes. I don't know his name, but I really love him. He has these facial tics that are just fantastic. And he brings out the mean edge that Holmes has in the stories, but I always sort of read him softer, because I wanted him to be nicer than he let on. But that mean edge is also kind of endearing, because everyone sympathizes with the lone wolf figure. Right? Anyway, everyone I know seems to.

In conclusion, Me Like Holmes. The End.

P. S. I've been blogging for 21 months now. If my blog were a child, it would totally be walking by now. Maybe even talking? (See how intelligent my blog is? It's been talking since day 1!)

jebediah feeds the chickens while jacob plows, fool.

Apparently Floyd Landis, the man who's slated to win the Tour de France, grew up conservative Mennonite ('old school' Mennonite? Amish? No one seems quite clear.). He was, in fact, born in Lancaster, PA. Interesting, no? It kind of sucks about him needing that surgery, though.

Today I have done nothing but play games. Video games to be precise, and it rocks. (Well, that's sort of a lie. I also went shopping with Mom and Aunt Laura for a new watch, and we stopped at Jaava Jaay's and had white praline mochas, and I got art supplies and Mom got some food and light bulbs.) And also, I ate a lot of really good food. Tomorrow, being Sunday, I have off from work, and Monday I'm off too. So that rocks my socks off.

Will I actually do anything productive in the next two days? Stay tuned to find out! On the next! Exciting! Update!

P.S. I have the hero at the mouth of the villain's lair! Yay! Do I know what's happening next? Do I know how the propitious meeting goes? No! But it's freaking exciting!

mmrarrg

So I worked ten hours today and I'm really tired. But I figured I need to grab the hours where I may, since they only have me scheduled for fifteen next week.

The big walk-in refrigerator at work broke yesterday. All told, we have three refrigerators and two deep-freezes. Except that another one of the refrigerators is already broken. So we this one fridge stuffed full of everything. It sounds boring to just talk about it, but in practice it's difficult and is a serious paradigm shift. Not the pleasant kind.

I feel like this should be a cautionary tale for people who work in the food industry. Girl works in coffee shop. Guys next door come to coffee shop a lot. They call in their order, girl takes order and later gets made fun of for sounding like a seven-year-old on the phone. Guys bring in Dr. Seuss book for girl. Then guys can't remember girl's name. So girl taunts them: 'Mackenzie' isn't a hard name, not unless you're seven. The moral would be Beware the regular customer! Their tongues are sharp and their hunger for caffeine is fierce!

I went to a book discussion last night, where we discussed "Much Ado About Nothing." (I know, not a book.) The lady who led it was pretty hysterical. In talking about Claudio's sudden change in viewing Hero (from soldier's eyes to eyes of love), she talked about ducks. When a duck hatches, the first thing it sees becomes its mother. Guys, she theorizes, are much the same. When a guy is ready to marry, he just latches onto the first thing he sees, and poof! she must be the one! Melissa (for this is the hysterical lady's name) had a series of experiences in college which involved being in the vicinity when guys 'hatched'. It got to be so much of a problem that she and her roommates used to joke about doing a little 'duck-hunting'. I think that's pretty darn witty metaphorical language. (and no, I'm not being sexist. I'm sure it could be applicable to females too.)

'K buh-bye I'm going to go sleep for at least ten hours now.