Brilliance from a Slightly Tipsy Friend

"Me an' that Russian goddess....reunited once more."

"NO! Nonono---nobody was drunk in the car, except for everyone who WASN'T the driver."

"HIIII!" *stumblestumble*

I suppose you had to be there, but I wanted to make sure it was noted.

Just between you and me.

So, caffeine -- I've got a bone to pick with you. However, since I only have a small representative of you here, I will be directing this entire rant to my cup of tea.

I thought you and me had an accord? I like you. I like you lots. You come to me in all manner of different forms, yummy drinks and snacks - from the blackest of teas to the darkest of chocolates, from the harshest espresso (mmm) to the bubbliest Diet Coke --- and we both know, when I don't have you at the right time during the day, you send a wicked headache my way to tell me that you miss me. I understand. This is how you deal with most people. It's not my fault that you didn't learn the nicest of social skills.

However, today, you reneged on your pledge, you tricksy chemical compound, you. Instead of the ritual headache, you made me groggy as a bat in the daytime and planted the idea of a nap in my mind, but when I actually lay down, you dragged me in and out of sleep every five minutes. It was not kind, I tell you. I'm still half asleep and not rested, but it's several hours later in the day than it was when I lay down.

It's no fun to feel stressed but too tired (legitimately) to do anything.

To put things more concisely: just gimme a headache next time, mmkay?

A sleepy footnote:

So, I'd like y'all to know that I recently got a tumblr account. You can find me there at www.esw.tumblr.com
On that page, there's lots of videos, quotes, and music that I love. Enjoy!

Also: I stayed up waaay too late tonight, and will now be going to bed.

Good night!

Mocking the Beast

Just a special event that has to be announced:

In Genetics today, I imitated the professor's accent for EVERYONE to hear, and people thought it was damn HILARIOUS. Including her.

Thank you, thank you -- thank you very much. : )

Chase the Morning

Hey, you -- crappy mood. Yeah, I'm talking to you.

You know you and your whole icky-feeling, mood-confusing, loneliness-bringing, situation-messing-up, cloud-bringing fucked-up-ness? WHY DON'T YOU EVER LET ME KNOW YOU'RE COMING?

I mean, I think I speak for most of my human comrades, here. Just a note, a feeling, a dream --- something as a way of letting us know that you're on your way. One of your clan. There's lots of types of you.

As it is, you POP out of nowhere - ruining a plan, a morning, a day, a meal - you're pretty skilled at messing things up, you know.

But as it turns out, you don't have to ruin things. Oh, yeah. I know you're quaking in your fancy-looking pleather boots and dashing coat to hear this, but it's true. We humans have got a couple of things up our sleeves. Yeah. It's called patience. Sometimes, it's called friendship. Sometimes it's called therapeutic writing/singing/dancing/screaming -- but either way, no matter under which pseudonym it glides, what it is is RESISTANCE to YOU, Mr. Bad Mood. Take that.

SPECIAL NEWS BULLETIN:

'Nifty' is a fantastic word.

So is 'frolic'.

And 'schlepp'.

As well as 'skiddadle'.

Let's not forget 'flail'. (Hihi...sorry for the inside joke.)

And another word I've always loved? 'Glisten'.

Favorite words in other languages include: trotzdem, fière, wai, pouvoir, and for one of our readers, Pfannkuchen. :)

Commenting

Hey, folks.


So, there's this nifty toggle feature thing that makes it so only people who have blogger accounts can comment. Yeeeaah. I toggled that thang OFF. So, comment away! Please! Thank you! : )

A footnote, 'cause I'm a wimp:

I enjoy wearing white v-neck tees and jeans. I have a Teagan and Sara CD. I have lots of political views. I enjoy dykey outfits and haircuts and everything.

I just do all of the above tastefully, with an awareness that there are other people in the world who are just as cool, just as righteous, just as politically and morally and in all other ways worthy as I am.

Oh, Puh-LEASE!

I realized that there were a couple of things that I've wanted to say to some people -- the types of things I'd want to become a 'fan' of on facebook, if facebook still had people become 'fans' of things, and if these awesome things were up there as optional things to 'Fan' (verb). (-- I'm feeling a little unforgiving tonight, which is fun. For those of you who know me, you know I'd probably never have the nerve to say these things to people in person, but that's the nice thing about this place -- today it's a free for all vent-o-rama!)

These select things include:

-Oh, come ON! Back then, you thought Backstreet Boys were JUST AS COOL as the rest of us did.

-Yeah, right. Don't give me that, "oh, of course!" (in a nasaly, teacher's pet voice) -- you were just as confused at what the professor just said as the rest of us. We all know it. It's no use pretending.

-You know what?? I went to public school and I came out okay! BETTER, in fact, since I know there's a real world out there! Take that, graduating-class-of-twelve.

-Yes, I am wearing tennis shoes with my skirt. No, it's not the most stylish thing, but I don't have the money to flaunt my style. Why don't you get back to me when you've found my style? Until then, back off. My personality wouldn't fit into that handbag, unlike yours.

-I wore makeup yesterday. Today, with the wonderful invention of a sports bra and a t-shirt, things look different! Now BACK OFF. I don't have to be butch or femme just to make you happy. Who told you I cared what you think?

-BACK OFF MY MUSIC. That's all.

-My room, my rules. In my space, black tea is superior. Don't try to tell me otherwise.

-PROFESSOR! If I your entire class has to come to your office hours to complete the homework, do you think maybe something's wrong? HMM??

-Oh, you know you watched Disney, too, when you were young. Gimme a break.

-SHAVING ONES LEGS DOES NOT MAKE A PERSON ANTI-FEMINIST.

-Believing in some of the principles of feminism and agreeing on the foundations of the philosophy does not make me one of the crazy, angry feminists that one is likely to see around here. Just wanted to clear that up.

-CHRIST HAD A WELL-PUBLICIZED BIRTH. HE ALSO HAD A WELL-ATTENDED DEATH. Can anyone really argue with that? No - didn't think so. So does it HAVE to be such a big deal if we use that marker to measure time? If you want, we can call this the year 4.55 billion, but honestly, I think 2010 A.D. is easier.

-Please don't listen to the professor only to critique him/her. Honestly, you are wrong about half the time, and it's extremely pretentious and rude to listen only to criticize.

-I may be treading on eggshells here, but I gotta ask: So, there's a solidarity lounge, BWC, and Queer Melanin. Isn't it true that if I made a 'White People's Gay Club', you'd be a little less than pleased? Hm. Let's think about this, people.

-People, we're living in a dorm. Common spaces are COMMON. Don't leave your grossness in the shower!

-Being gay doesn't mean that you hate the gender that you aren't sexually attracted to. It also doesn't mean that you have to form an exclusive club that promotes stereotypes. It also doesn't mean that every dinner conversation has to revolve around vaginas, penises, or whatever/whoever you did last night. It doesn't mean you have to NOT shave, NOT respect people who are straight, and NOT watch any tv shows that don't have to do with anything gay. It doesn't mean you can only wear skirts, or only wear white, v-neck tees with your oh-so-cool jeans. PLEASE, über-dykes. You're giving the rest of us a bad name. Put away your Teagan & Sara CDs and get over yourselves.


*bows* Thank you very much.

Sweet, Pretty Darlin', Do Not Cry

Sunday night blues? Not quite.

Everything seems to be in order: homework (almost done), procrastination (right on time), laundry (in the process of being done), music (playing away), friends (around and about), family (farther away than I'd like), events during the week (enough to make me nervous, but far away enough for me to forget about, too) --- it's all there, just like a normal day.

And yet, with that quiet sunset and the smell of California spring, my mind's elsewhere. It might be wandering down a cobblestone street in a small town that I've only seen in winter, and in another moment, it might be admiring the rhododendron blooms back in ol' PA. And then there's a part of me that doesn't want to say goodbye to this place either.

I know the year's not over yet, but it feels like it. During the week I'll forget again, ganz bestimmt, but right now? Feel like I'm floating without a tether. Coming to a momentary halt over this beautiful campus now only because there's no breeze to blow me elsewhere. But how long will I stay?

In the meantime, I've got a letter to write. Something I do gladly.

Garlic Fries, Yells, Souvenir Cups

SO, after 8 and 1/2 innings of understanding why it is that some people might hate baseball (and yet still enjoying the ambiance fully), the Giants finally brought it home. Take that, Cardinals.

I had a lovely, lovely evening -- complete with wonderful daydreams that have no memorable starting point, memories abound, hilarious conversations with wonderful people, --- and, as previously mentioned, garlic fries!

GO GIANTS!

Guided by The Killers

So, just to let you all know, this morning, I had a dream that I owned a minicooper. Hell, yeah. That was fun... I think it may have even had that awesome flag bit on the top...

Also, since I've woken up, I've been able to do nothing but think about Thailand every thirty seconds or so, so I made myself a cup of tea, put on Sam's Town, and I have been going through old pictures. It's been just amazing.

In other news, I'm still a college student, and it still isn't summer yet, so from this point on today, I'll probably be doing homework. That is, until I go to the gym, and then to see the Giants play!!!

Minor apologies--

Every now and then, a post may appear hear that contains an obscure reference to an individual, and for those of you who do not know said individual, these posts may seem confusing. I apologize for that confusion. However, I encourage you to read the descriptions I put here and then eventually meet the individual to whom they pertain, and tell me if it is a true likeness!

Hot Mess

A lovely spring day! There's music blasting in the hallway, the sun is shining, classes are over for the week --- and that crazed prof is sitting in her web, smiling her crooked smile.

Today, in her lecture, she paid a great service to her many students. Let us say, metaphorically, hypothetically, that in her lecture, there was a certain path she could follow - a certain straightforward, stepping over the brambles and obstacles footpath. Now let us take a look at what the spinner decided to do.

She looked at the path ahead. She described to the individuals behind her, all clutching their notebooks and pens feverishly, the composition of the soil beneath their feet. As they all looked down, puzzled, wondering at the importance of that detail - and as they did so, she skittered up a rock on the side of the path and out of sight. The students, bewildered, followed. In much the same manner, the arachnide woman led the pour souls over hill and dale, through rivers and over quicksand, under creeping vines and around smelly bogs, all the way encouraging the mild little sheep that they would understand as soon as they got through.

And when they did "get through", the majority turned around and saw the starting point of their path, not two yards away from where they stood with no obstacles in their way, and they did not understand why they had not come that way in the first place.

....except the rooster with the peacock feathers tied to its wings. That rooster crowed with approval.

That Crazy Thang

So, memories are fascinating.

Yesterday, as I was sitting down in math class, I smelled a certain classroomy smell and I immediately went back to my 7th grade English class, taught by the aptly named Ms. Schreiber. It was amazing how quickly it happened, especially considering that I never thought her classroom smelled much like anything.

However, an even MORE powerful scent memory came this morning as I was just arriving for dance class, after having had a lovely and amusing dialog with myself about the many ways in which one can describe the way one gets from place to place (i.e. - walking, trotting, flouncing, flitting, galumphing, slouching, stumbling, sidling, scooting, high-tailing, etc.). I went into the locker room and suddenly, I smelled what must've been someone's soap or something, and it was the EXACT scent of the tiny bars of white soap that my host sister and I used weekly to scrub all the socks while I was in Thailand. The two of us would sit on overturned washing tubs or on nothing at all, crouching over the ground with a slab of smooth rock (looked like marble, but I'm not sure) and we'd hold a sodden sock down with one hand and run the soap over it (plusieurs fois), turning it to make sure that we got all of the sides before it got dumped into the rinsing bucket. This was every Saturday afternoon, the morning after I routinely stayed up through the entire night with a fellow exchange student while at a music camp at my school. Usually, Saturdays, I would come home and hope that my host mom had forgotten about laundry --- haha. Then, sleep in my eyes and thinking only of my nap later, my sister and I would crouch over those damn socks, getting cramps in our backs and get the job done.

Even when I think about now, I start to feel the slight breeze and the warm, humid air. I miss that life.

Huh!

I was rereading the post before the one before the last one, and I realized that I said 'in my head' so many times, I might as well have been singing a weirdly self-centered version of Zombie.

Huh.

SO, apparently, I'm a sitcom.

My friends tell me this. They tell me (when they follow me with their eyes after an episode of Buffy or the like, as I'm straightening up my room or something) that they have to keep their eyes on me, because they don't know when I'm going to do something funny, like in a sitcom. They have to watch the whole time for that rare moment of comedy!!

And they told me tonight that they wished I were on camera all the time -- they think it would be funny.

In other news, I'm having trouble speaking today. So far, I've said 'heal' instead of 'hear', 'riliculous' instead of 'ridiculous' and many, many weird smushings of sounds instead of actual words.

Oh, je. (that's actually German, not another mistake!)

Just a Wednesday...

When I sing along with Lily Allen in my head, I try to imitate her accent. Is that kosher? I wonder if I could actually do it out loud..

Also, last night, I had a dream in which things kept being a dream. It was like -- like one of those pictures that it's possible that no one else sees but me, but where, in your head, you see an ice floe (For example -- yes, this has been in my head before). And on said ice floe, there's a polar bear. The polar bear tries to stand up, and the ice tips because his weight isn't centered anymore, if that makes sense. And in my head, I try to just keep the picture of the polar bear there before it tries to stand -- instead, the part where it stands up and then falls in the water keeps replaying in my head.

So, my dream was kind of similar to that bunch of dribble up there that you may or may not have understood.

In my dream, I was in my room (I mean, my room in the dream, so not my real room) and talking to my girlfriend, and -- the scene just kept evolving where I would suddenly become some sort of warrior or something, I always had some crazy weapon, but then it wasn't really me anymore, so the real me would come in and stop the crazy thing that I had just turned in to, but a few minutes later, it would happen again...

Anyways, I think it was stress-related. I felt bad for brandishing so many weapons in one night. I think there may have been a catapult involved at some point in the dream, too -- though that was kind of a transition from the transformy dream to the next one...

Weird.

Musing:

As I walked over the rain-wet grass on the way to the gym, conjugating the verb 'spelunking' in my head just for fun, I thought to myself: "I really am a strange person."

A simple comment

First of all, isn't it neat that when we nearly run into someone in our everyday lives, we both say the same thing, both the runner and the runnee? -- Something like "S'ari..." --- "Sorry"/"It's alright."

Also!

A beautiful image was just put by a friend of mine into my head, and I though I'd share it -- a portrait, if you will, of a mutual professor of ours...

Night before class, hair teased into a frenzy, she types on a floating laptop while upside down on a trapeze, giggling away as she puts aspects from her last dream into the questions she will pose the next day to the class. Then, in said class, she presents said question and waits for the innocent, naïve students to fall into her carefully woven web -- and snap! They come crashing in, choosing an answer on the pretense of knowledge she has recently imparted to them, how silly! Then, cackling in a midst of a dashing and smashing mish-mashing of countries and accents, she howls, "No, the answer is not (a) --- it's FOUR!"

Poor DNA...

I wonder if DNA feels awfully used when RNA polymerase just comes along, unzips it, copies all the information that it has inside, then drops off and says, "see ya! thanks for the info! I'm gonna use it for my own stuff now! No copyright or nuthin!! Hahaaa!" before going off and doing its own thing. I mean, just leaves DNA in the lurch, basically...

Or what about when nasty ol' d/dx comes along to ln(3x^2) + 3 and does its bwaahaha derivative dance, and then leaves, cackling, while poor natural log is all transformed, and that 3, its best friend, has been changed into nothing...

Who knew math and science could be so cruel?

: )

So --- I feel about as happy as a rainbow right now, and I hope that somehow, I can let my mood fly to everyone around me so they can have it, too.

: )

Chinese

"I see you from the sky
And I wonder how long it will take me to get home
I wait for an hour or so at the carousel
I have a cigarette to pass the time
Cause the traffic's hell

I don't want anything more
Than to see your face when you open the door
You'll make me beans on toast and a nice cup of tea
And we'll get a Chinese and watch TV
Tomorrow we'll take the dog for a walk
And in the afternoon then maybe we'll talk
I'll be exhausted so I'll probably sleep
And we'll get a Chinese and watch TV

You wipe the tears from my eye
And you say that all that it takes is a phone call
I cry at the thought of being alone and then
I wonder how long it will take til I'm home again

I don't want anything more
Than to see your face when you open the door
You'll make me beans on toast and a nice cup of tea
And we'll get a Chinese and watch TV
Tomorrow we'll take the dog for a walk
And in the afternoon then maybe we'll talk
I'll be exhausted so I'll probably sleep
And we'll get a Chinese and watch TV

I know it doesn't seem so fair
But I'll send you a postcard when I get there

I don't want anything more
Than to see your face when you open the door
You'll make me beans on toast and a nice cup of tea
And we'll get a Chinese and watch TV
Tomorrow we'll take the dog for a walk
And in the afternoon then maybe we'll talk
I'll be exhausted so I'll probably sleep
And we'll get a Chinese and watch TV"

-Lily Allen

Public Restrooms....

ARE TERRIFYING!

First of all, there's always a shifty-looking lock. Like that little button in the middle of the doorknob -- how the heck is that supposed to keep the door from being opened?
Second of all, the toilet, it's like a MILE away from the door! So, IF that shifty lock didn't work there's NO way you'll be able to keep the door shut without catapaulting yourself across the room with your pants around your ankles!
And third of all, too much space. A toilet in the middle of a stadium is what it feels like. Definitely.
Fourth of all, tricksy wallpaper. You know what I'm talking about. Like, wallpaper with little ridges that might hide creepy things written underneath. Oh, yeah. You know what I mean.

Anyways, they make me nervous.

So, Guess What?

---I'm feelin' like a hottie tonight.

It's such a wonderful feeling!

You know, I do have issues with self-esteem, but then again, I think so do a lot of people. So, to everyone who does, I ask -- aren't those times when it goes away just incredible? When you parade around your room in whatever outfit or mood you happen to be in that makes you feel like a movie star, and you just smile....

Anyways, it's a lovely mood to be in. I'm so happy!

--

I also have had Lady Gaga stuck in my head almost the entire day, except when she was briefly interrupted by Dvorák. Pushy dead composers. Who d'they think they are?

As Fridays go, today was a pretty good one. I wasn't sure I'd ever get out of bed when I woke up, but I did. Then, classes came and went, professors talked, and I listened or not, depending on which professor was speaking --- then there was homework, and finally, an evening of movies with a friend. It was a good time!

On to the weekend, everyone. Write yourself a to do list on which you have already completed three things, and include other things you haven't done like having breakfast, or tea, or chocolate.

Happy Saturday. : )

So, I'm sitting in a lovely house in Berkeley, the new babysitter, just having put two lovely girls to bed. It turns out that if you are teaching an ten year old girl guitar in this decade, you'll end up learning some Taylor Swift songs whether you like it or not.

Also, the littler girl, only 6 years old, looked at me with her big green eyes and asked me to read her a bedtime story. It was the book about Tango, the penguin --- some of you know it. If not, look it up: And Tango Makes Three. A lovely story.
I sat by her bed and read and showed her the pictures, and she asked for a hug before I left, and when I closed the door behind me, I saw her night light, and --- I had such a memory of that, the warm glow of the light that made falling asleep peaceful. I had forgotten that feeling.

-

So, some childhood memories tonight. And there was such calm as the older girl went to bed and I felt like curling up on the couch here with a soft blanket and gentle music playing --- but I remember that I'm in college with a stack of assignments that only grows and doesn't shrink, and if I want to wake up without it having risen above my head, I should get started now.

Imitation: Flattery, Laziness, or Low Self Esteem?

There are so many people I admire.

There are my professors, whom I admire for their various abilities -- mathematical grace, subtlety in dance, ability to communicate, recollection of historical fact, and passion for language and culture respectively, and there are people that I admire in the world outside as well.

Some, I admire for prowess in music - for example, Benny Goodman, KT Tunstall, Al Petteway, Tchaikovsky.
There are those I admire for their literary works - Philip Pullman, Emily Brontë, Shakespeare, Orson Scott-Card.

However, at the moment, the ones that are coming to mind most strongly are the people whom I admire due to their amazing use of language.

This comes in different flavors as well. For example, I greatly admire David Tennant. His skill with acting astounds me and he can enchant me with his speech when he's chilling my insides as Hamlet or when he's bringing tears of laughter to my eyes as the Doctor. I realize, however, that as an actor, the words are not always his own; but I maintain that delivery is half the battle.

The person whom I admire most (at this point in my life) for speech is Stephen Fry, as mentioned in several posts below. I've had somewhat of a revelation about him tonight that I need to get on paper, virtual as this may be.

Before, when I ever heard Stephen Fry speak (either being interviewed or by reading his book ((which I highly recommend)) or by watching any of the videos that exist on youtube such as the one mentioned before), I could only think of the inadequacies of my own speech. I often avoided many shows or programs that had particularly clever, witty, or intelligent speakers on board because I felt it illuminated the chasm between us.

What's one way to deal with this chasm-needing-a-bridge? Imitation. I could try to sound like Stephen Fry. I've often wished I could.

And here's where I believe admiration to do with speech differs from the kinds of admiration (and thus imitation) that I mentioned above.

If I find a dance choreographer particularly inspiring, I will try to incorporate some of his/her ideas into my own dance and use them to help me grow as a dancer. If I listen to Tchaikovsky and bemoan the brilliant musicianship of the orchestra, to help myself get over it, I'll get out my own instruments and practice. Then, with the new practice, I can further my own pursuits. And if I listen, for instance, to my French professor and sigh about her nuances with the language, when I'm in my room later, I can study those verb charts until I see them with my eyes closed and eventually understand them, and become proficient enough in the language to start being me when I speak. (That's the dream, folks.)

But with admiring someone for speech, I feel it's different. I - I've finally realized that I don't want to be able to talk like Stephen Fry. I can't. I'd sound silly if I did. I feel like I would sound like the chemistry teacher in Charlie and The Chocolate Factory, if any of you remember him. Mr. Turpentine, I think his name was. He asked Charlie if Charlie knew what he was going to do in his experiment and when Charlie returned a negative answer, he replied "Well, of course you don't know! If you knew and I didn't know, then you'd be teaching me instead of me teaching you, and for a student to teach his teacher is presumptuous and rude; do I make myself clear?" -- A very silly man, I always thought. Too caught up in speech to make much sense.

But I digress. I think what I am trying to say is that in my admiration for Stephen Fry's speech, I can learn techniques from him, as I might from a famous composer or a math professor or a choreographer --- techniques that I can use to strengthen my own brand of art --- INSTEAD of trying to reproduce that which I admire.

Which is a good thing, too, 'cause I don't think I'd ever make it to that level. : )

Continuation:

Just wanted to add that after listening to a bit more of that link that I posted below, I have decided that I NEVER want to be opposing Stephen Fry in a debate. Holy crap.

Just a little hero worship

"It would be impertinent and wrong of me to express any antagonism towards any individual who wishes to find salvation in whatever form they wish to express it."

Stephen Fry, you are amazing.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IEhtOhwL8xk

I laugh differently upside-down

I've been doing some thinking about memories today.

How is it that when we are in the moment, in the present, everything we see, touch, hear, and smell is physical and real and undeniably there, but when we have a memory, it could be as faded as can be? Or, sometimes, it's just as vivid as when it really happened, except that the picture is behind our eyes instead of in front.

The power of memory fascinates me. Certain smells just transport me. I think it's a pretty common fact nowadays that scent memories are very strong -- I've certainly had that told to me several times -- and I'm not at all skeptical.

For instance, a certain perfume takes me back to a loving old building where I learned to dance and looked up to my babysitter-mentors. Another smell of an acidy, green sort takes me to my host family's house where I rubbed this thick, greenish paste on my 40+ mosquito bites at night.

But some smells aren't even that specific -- it's a combination that creates a memory. For instance, pine, tea, and bacon sizzling is Christmas morning to me. Then there's that detergent + shampoo + bodywash + person-ness that creates the exact scent-image of a person. I know if I had my eyes closed and someone knew those scents that meant certain people to me, I could be completely fooled, because they are so closely associated to that person --- and a nose is easier to fool than eyes.

-

Funny. I'm listening to a song right now from a summer camp that I attended for years, and simply the sound of the guitar in the slightly-echo-y recording room takes me back to those days of summer where friends were the point of my life and the songs we wrote were the deepest things on the planet. : )

Weather and Me

So, first of all, who knew there was a computer lab in the math building? Exciting discovery.

Second of all -- it always feels strange to me when my mood so blatantly contrasts the attitude of the weather. For instance, the other day, it was pouring down rain with glum gray skies, and I basically had rainbows coming from my ears and nose and mouth because of my mood. And today, the sun's shining, the sky is a striking blue, and a few minutes ago, I think my frown was almost touching the ground.

However, that has since changed, and I'm glad.

Thanks for the sunshine, world. It's doing me good.

Decision!

If it's quarter to midnight, you're to meet a running buddy at seven and have to be in class at eight thirty, and you're in a good enough mood to not be able to stop smiling and to sing along to songs on your playlists and feel great about your voice and just about life in general ---

Stay up and enjoy it!

(I love those moments where the biggest thought on your mind really is, "Life is good.")

Careful: It's Catching

So, we're all familiar with procrastination.

I just wanted to mention that while my girlfriend was here visiting (wonderful lady she is), the two of us decided to write her up a contract of sorts. She had a couple things that she wished she was doing in her life and with a copy of these resolutions for each of us, she has it to remind her to do them as well as me. One of the items on said list is to 'get your homework and studying done as soon as possible. Procrastination WILL come back to haunt you in the end!" --- Very brave undertaking coming from my gal.

I talked to her this afternoon, and so far, it's been going really well for her. She really has been sticking to it.

Me, on the other hand --- ME, the girl who did homework first thing after school for years and years, who always has everything done several days in advance -- THIS IS THE SECOND DAY IN A ROW WHERE I WILL BE STARTING MY MATH HOMEWORK AROUND 10:30.

Nonchalantly updating my blog here...seems like such a reasonable thing to do.

And the wonderful (or terribly addicting) thing about it? I feel fine. I feel I still have time to get everything done. It's possible that the longer this goes on, the further away that feeling will travel, but who's to know...

So, anyways, -- dear girlfriend of mine, you gave it to me. :) So far, so good.

Don't shoot the mediator!

On Tuesday evenings, I have a two-and-a-half hour long Anthropology course, in which certain people often get angry and rant. I feel terrible for our eighty-year-old professor. True, he's a little old-school about it, but he's fantastically politically correct and feminist-oriented for a man of his generation. Apparently, that's not enough for some people in the lecture. I often feel the need to throw some water on the fire in those discussions when people take his generalizations (that he acknowledges as generalizations) and blow them out of proportion and spout views that might elsewhere be radical and unheard of but are distinctly NOT SO on this campus.

-

On a different note, I had a couple odd moments with the prospie that I hosted a couple of nights ago due to the fact that I have a Bible on my bookshelf.

Can't I own a Bible without people assuming I'm Christian? Can't I read a few passages now and then without people thinking that that means that I support every twisted view that has come out of the Bible?

Can't we just try and realize that the Bible, the Christian Church, and the Christian faith are three completely separate things?

It'd be much appreciated.

Languages, for Cryin' on Pete!

I really am happy at my college, it's true. However, after just having met with my adorable Parisian advisor, I have a few complaints that I wish the administrators would hear.

LANGUAGES ARE IMPORTANT. LANGUAGES ARE NOT SECOND-TIER TO MATH, BIOLOGY, OR CHEMISTRY. ENCORPORATE A LANGUAGE REQUIREMENT, PLEASE.

And while you're at it, why not have a German department. Just sayin'.

Thanks.

Understanding

Remark:

Sometimes, it's okay not to be understood. I don't mean the kind of angsty -- "no one understands me and no one ever will" kind of misunderstanding. I just mean, I think this is something I need to learn.

As an extreme people-person, there are people that I talk to about my moods when I'm upset. And sometimes, there's that one person that you think will understand, no matter what, because usually, they do.

But sometimes, through no fault of theirs, that person can't understand. Maybe it's because what you are feeling isn't really all that understandable when it's expressed through writing, or speech, or any method of communication that you can manage. And so you are misunderstood, or you are not understood. Those are two different things.

And when that happens, especially with that one person who you thought would understand, then all that's left is you, with your feeling.

So, maybe what I'm trying to convince myself of here is that it's okay to be alone, simply feeling.

It's a scary thought, isn't it? Being alone.
Not one of my favorite things.

However, I think it's a non-lethal condition, though it is very widely feared.

---

So, sometimes, your feelings are just for you, even if you'd like them to be shared. If you share them and they come across wrong, take a deep breath. Shrug.

There will always be another feeling. Boy oh boy, they do come and go.

An Evening of 'All Over the Place'

So, the song of the evening: St. Peter's Bones by Girlyman. Really, a recommendation.

The frustration of the evening: Technology (yes, yes, even after today's skype-happy post. Things went downhill with anything computer-related after that. Maybe this is techno-karma.)

Evil of the evening: Getting one's period. 0_0
It turns me into the bitch of my own emotions, running from simply sad to excited to absolutely depressed and back to joy, then to loneliness and then to wonder -- all in the middle of calculus homework. Frankly, it's exhausting. It's a bodily function of which I do not approve. (except for it's function and all. Kinda important.)

--

Speaking of calculus, the excitements of the day include: Good ice cream after dinner, lovely phone conversation with my girlfriend, an almost certain job as a TA next semester for Calculus (!!!!!), and a FANTASTIC cup of tea. In that light, maybe it's more doable. I mean, if I look at those good things, maybe this day doesn't have to end so sadly after all.

Can I get a rousing chorus of 'Always Look on the Bright Side of Life?'

Way to go, my optimists. Well done, all.

Skype, and Phone Calls in General

Skype is a wonderful invention. Anything that allows me to suddenly hear my girlfriend's voice from across the ocean at the mere click of a button.... Yes, I realize the phone is also a wonderful thing, but mine won't make that trans-atlantic call, where as Skype will.

Awesome.

Also, got a card in the mail from my older sister today. As a younger sister, this makes me all glowy inside.

Awesome.

You Would Make Such a Bitchy Jesus

So, 'tis Accepted Students Visiting Weekend, here at that oh-so-feminist Women's College.

Lovely idea in principle. It was, in fact, this visiting weekend that made my decision last year at this time for me to come here. However, now as a hosting residential student, I see another side.

My room, my lovely room, my room that I don't want to have to leave next semester and don't want to have to pack everything up from at the end of this one --- this room was crowded enough when my girlfriend (only one person) was staying here. I was given THREE prospective students to host for the night. Somethin' bless them, there they all are sleeping on the hardwood floor in sleeping bags. I remember that night well.

--

Other than that, a mildly uneventful day. I had a visit from my father, which was lovely although too short. Short visits always make me wonder whether they are worth it. I love my parents very much, but when I see them for only a day (I'm from the other coast, so visits are rare and often it's because they have some business or other out here that isn't visiting me), it makes these feelings from home well up inside and sometimes I'd rather do without those. But then again, it's hard for me to feel that I don't want to see them. I've been remarkably lucky, I realize, to not have the experience very often of not wanting to be around my parents. I'm very grateful for that.

-

For the sake of anyone reading this, I think I'll have to sign off on that ridiculous excuse for a conclusion. 8:30 french class calls for at least a midnight bedtime, especially when I have to drag three sleep-drunk prospies out of their sleeping bags to get them to their next destination by 7:45.

Wish me luck.

Women's College

So, a women's college --- I'm told not to say 'girl's school' here, and that's just the beginning.

Growing up in a backwoods town where people constantly talk about the 'wufs hawlin' down by the crik', I thought a liberal arts women's college on the West coast sounded downright smashing.

And it is, for the most part.

Except for all the bloody women!

Don't get me wrong. I like women. I really do. Hell, I've been in a long-distance (seriously, folks - bi-continentally long distance!) relationship with one for the past two and a half years! But I guess I never quite realized what it would be like to have classes with, eat with, talk with, study with, and live with only women!

Some of the gals around here are quite lovely; not too high strung, not too apt to explode into something dramatic at the drop of a pencil -
and yet, the energy waves of drama permeate the dorms like the faintest hint of a skunk: not too horrible from this distance but impossible to ignore now that you know it's there.

I'm glad to not be (anymore) part of any sport team on campus. I was, for the first semester of this, my freshman (woman) year, a member of the crew team - complete with getting up at 5 for practice, losing my social life to find a bedtime that suited the 5 a.m. wake-up call, having team members take over tables at dinner (so that the friends I had by choice instead of by team-association would eventually leave) and then having exceedingly lewd conversations ensue.

But I listen to some of the drama coming from the swimming team, the volleyball team, the soccer team --- even back from the crew team, and I can feel the tension loosen in my shoulders as I remember that I'm not a part of it anymore.

But, like that hint of skunk, the air of drama sinks in and people get used to it. It's permeated a couple of my friendships lately , and because we're all such moody, selfish chicks at this girl school, we'll see how long it takes until it gets resolved!

--

Needless to say, it's times like these that make me miss (more than usual) my guy friends, with whom I can sit and talk (or not), watch stupid movies and tv shows, discuss life for five minutes and then give it up for ordering pizza.

Those were the days, I tell ya.

Day 1

When I wrote my traditional 'To Do' list for this weekend, 'start a blog' was not an item therein. It was not even in the 'do if you get the chance' column. No, folks, this is not a documented, planned, or thought-out decision.

What can you expect here?

Thoughts on music, math, long-distance relationships, languages, college, and movies - possibly with some philosophising thrown in.

If it suits you, keep on reading.

Thanks for reading thus far!