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
Saturday, September 30, 2006
Thursday, September 28, 2006
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.
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.
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
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....
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....
Monday, September 25, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, September 22, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Monday, September 18, 2006
"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
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
Friday, September 15, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, September 14, 2006
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.
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.
Sunday, September 10, 2006
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
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
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
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
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
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
"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
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
Sunday, September 03, 2006
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.
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.
Friday, September 01, 2006
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.
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.
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