| (kein Betreff) |
[Mai. 5., 2007|12:01 pm] |
|
I was reading about Berlin today, and scared myself by not being able to remember where streets are, which restaurant had that plackard, what that specific train station looked like and lead to. It's like I have to choose. |
|
|
| (kein Betreff) |
[Mär. 27., 2007|04:15 pm] |
|
Re-connected with a few kids from high school today, which was nice and sunny and reassuring. The weather is gorgeous, and it's breezing through my apartment and across the quad and the grass is really green. Some of my classmates-turned-friends from my German class and I hung around the Eternal Flame for a while, feeling old, and I got some work done. Can't even wait until night to go for a beautiful, beautiful night run up Windsor and then meet up with the house for a little chilling and then falling asleep under one sheet with both windows open. |
|
|
| All that has been accomplished this evening, and not even by me |
[Dez. 4., 2006|12:42 am] |
| [ | Current Location |
| | Perkin's | ] |
| [ | currently |
| |  freezing | ] |
| [ | stuck on repeat |
| | Something horrible | ] |
Intro
Thesis
Body
I There once was a “Lord Polonius,” “sewing in my closet.”
II I asked him, “is there any difference finally between the madman some think him and the intense, passionate, perilously overwrought, and extremely perplexed person of genius whom anyone can recognize him as being?”
III He was all like,
“On this day I shall perform deeds that will be written down in the book of fame for all centuries t… “Wait, no. .. Shut up!”
IV “…with a great show of feeling, he began rolling and tossing on the ground as he feebly gasped out the lines which the wounded knight of the wood is supposed to have uttered”
Conclusion
Polonius needs to stand behind fewer curtains.
Thesis revisited |
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| Remind me to tell you about the stabbing and the bear |
[Nov. 14., 2006|09:49 pm] |
It was Berlin-in-November-[and-December-January-February-and-March] weather today, so I was thinking about it and thus a little off most of the day. We saw a cry-inducing documentary at nine in the morning, with nothing but the promise of four more hours of class to follow. Next class, to illustrate a point, we were instructed to write about the worst slash most stressful thing we are experiencing or have experienced for five minutes, freestyle. To give you an idea of how I felt then, research on this subject has shown that such writing actually worsens the moods of patients, though six months later their physical health is better than that of non-writers. Great. Call me in May.
In other news, Molly was here this past weekend and it was an above-par visit, which was probably to do with a) our having potentially matured a bit, and b) my getting to blow off work in order to play hostess in a favorite town of mine to someone who has yet to unlock its parks, bookstores, coffeeshops. And then my mom came. w00t.
Tests this week, papers pushed back, my RA-room lamp (with obscenely indulgent natural-light bulb) now living in my apartment with me and increasing my mood about 300% in the past two days. I don't communicate with some people enough, important people. Kellie got her appendix out in a scary episode that was reminiscient (for me) of my situation in Berlin-- she tried calling some people, tried hailing a cab, couldn't, had to dial 911 and was basically helpless in this city of millions of people. Couldn't count on other people. It can be scary, and I hope she's okay.
I have been "learning" new songs on the guitar pretty exponentially, which means I sit on my mattress and Google tabs to songs I am embarrassed to like, then play them through, and call it a day. Good times, though sometimes it just makes me feel guilty about not playing viola at this stage of my life. More and more often now I can do very little without it inducing some kind of guilt in a tangential sphere of my life. Go online? Haven't responded to e-mail. Eat something? Shouldn't. Sleep? Should study. Study? Should work out. Look at my desk? There's my checkbook, should pay my bills. Look at anything in my apartment? Should clean it. Oh my god. It doesn't end, and it's exhausting, which is sometimes why I like going back to Normal so much because then at least I can either convince myself that my parents are in charge of everything in my life, thus relieving me of some responsibility, or at least get some sleep that isn't interrupted by sudden jarring shocks of realization of something I should have done.
Well, that turned into a dumb entry. Now I remember why I don't do it more often. |
|
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| Unprecedented |
[Nov. 8., 2006|12:10 am] |
My critical theory class received a 44 point curve on our midterm worth 100 points.
Justice abounds, and there was much rejoicing. |
|
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| 241 responses are stupid |
[Okt. 18., 2006|08:19 pm] |
A couple more:- In personality psych, the professor had us write down, anonymously, three things:
how many sexual partners we wanted in our lifetimes,
how long we would wait before sleeping with someone,
and our gender(s). Shawn asked me to tell him what I put; I said sure, it wasn't a big deal. Then we had to pass them around, and finally raise our hands in accordance with whatever paper we ended up with; to signify what percentage of males, for example, wanted 20 partners.
After seeing where my answers lined up with the rest of the girls in our lecture, I didn't want to tell him anymore.
Wondering what this says about my being influenced by social norms, and around whom, especially since this topic was conicidentally discussed with the kids in Chicago this weekend, and everything was gravy.
- Today the weather is finally respectable, but I have a mean sore throat, which is lame, and is keeping me from wanting to do dishes/laundry/homework.
- Soy mozzerella is FAR, FAR superior to cheddar or smoked provolone.
- I think my life will be in order pretty soon-- I made appointments today with an English advisor, psych advisor, haircutting guy, travel agent, and my landlord. Plus I contacted four people I had been feeling guilty about ignoring. Score. Not that I did any work. Because I didn't.
So Kellie took this and then I did, and oh buddy, is it accurate. As was hers. |
|
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| Capellanus smoked crack |
[Okt. 17., 2006|10:05 pm] |
A few things:- Another gorgeous, extremely mentally healthy weekend (plus one) in Chicago was had with our good friends Josh and Kellie, although it has been realized that escaping does not, in fact, solve anything. More on this soon.
- Yesterday I spent the later evening with Carmen, talking. It came to my attention, in my enjoyment of the hanging out, that I do not, outside of a few who live far away, have close female friends.
- This was also, unrelatedly, the only time I have cried at someone else's breakup story.
- I have a scary midterm on Thursday, but have spent too much time in bed as of late, not studying. Other midterm grades average 98.8. But this one worries me.
- Something I keep reminding myself is to not try to replace anyone with anyone else, which action would to all involved parties be extremely unfair.
- Benjamin's mother has been e-mailing me, wanting to pay for a big chunk of airfare so I could visit. This makes me extremely uncomfortable, and I have been avoiding doing anything about it, largely because she forbade me to mention it to him.
- In my critical theory class of 60-70 people, I coincidentally sit next to the only other veg-- an awkward kid with a lisp who actually does the readings. He's cool. Everyone else thinks we're freaks.
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|
|
| Down by the rosemary |
[Okt. 11., 2006|06:47 pm] |
| [ | currently |
| | cold | ] |
This past weekend (and Monday) I did essentially everything I associate with post-residence hall living in Urbana.- Farmer's Market with Brandon and Carmen
- Urbana Free, including fine-paying and children's-lit browsing
- Strawberry Fields for day-old bread
- Walking through the state streets and up the Arboretum
- Hitting a coffeeshop (Kopi) with Kate, Erika, Lydia, Adam, Angie, and Ryan (who I guess doesn't fit into the schema, oh well, extra flava)
- Chilling at the Blind Pig with above crowd minus Kate and Angie, sampling imports
- Greasy-dinering it at Mary Ann's for breakfast
- Taking the longest nap ever
- Studying at Paradiso with Adam the Bodybuilder and German Thomas
- Worked at the Herring; celebrated a birthday with dancing
- Goofed off in class and got midterms back
- Went to Curtis Orchards with my parents and sister
- Hit up Old Main, and Jane Addams, Carrie's, and Dandelion, for the first time since getting back
- Ate at the Courier
- Did some stargazing.
I also, fittingly, experienced this range of Urbana action (various people involved):- hand-holding
- walking with someone, enjoying the silence
- feeling lonely and abandoned while acting understanding and encouraging
- being involved in other extraneous cuddling activities
- listening to the problems of a friend, trying to help
- feeling guilty for various shortcomings on both personal and social planes
- feeling really optimistic about the future
- feeling like the future is hopeless
- feeling like the present is hopeless
- really enjoying the present and wishing it were stuck in time.
The blatantly missing activities include Hare Krishna, anything at Allen, going running, smoking a hookah, getting fired, fighting, bubble tea, midnight grocery shopping, and walking barefoot. But not a bad review for one weekend. |
|
|
| some Quotes of the Week |
[Okt. 7., 2006|10:55 am] |
| [ | currently |
| |  awake | ] |
She probably came to you with books of napkins to ask your opinion-- "I don't care?"-- WRONG FUCKING ANSWER! "Don't you CARE? Don't you care about the wedding? Don't you care about ME?!"
--PSYC 250 prof, to a married student in lecture
I'm going to actually learn how to play Freebird, so the next time somebody says to play Freebird, I'll play it and I'll be like-- you did this to yourself.
--Ben, playing guitar at Coffeehouse
Kathy and George barking up a storm/Hope they don't set off a fire alarm
Kathy doubts the usefulness of rhyme/Well fuck her I do it all the time...
--Adam the impromptu lyricist
There's one with like rocket ships, one with San Francisco landmarks, and one with like animals or garbage like that on it"
--PSYC 250 prof, describing anagram pages in a study
Er war TOTAL wie Elton John!
--a female groupie discussing Mozart in GER 471
I mean, a grown-ass man like yourself.. er...
--a PSYC 410 student, showing typical respect for our prof |
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| Weirded out, but not surprised. |
[Okt. 3., 2006|06:41 pm] |
| [ | stuck on repeat |
| | Counting Crows | ] |
The gist of last night's dream was as follows, and includes the characters of me, Adam, Bret, some Germans, and secondhand Kannan:
( other people's dreams are boring )
So, theorists, go to town. This one should not be a stretch.
Oh, and incidentally, last night Bret initiated conversation for the first time I can specifically remember, after an unsuccessful get-together on Sunday, while today is Adam's 23rd birthday. Happy birthday. Sorry my unconscious bastardized you. |
|
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| "Who got shot in the what now?" |
[Sep. 29., 2006|04:03 pm] |
| [ | currently |
| |  full | ] |
I think either I have gotten more receptive to meeting people, or the people I meet have increased in average niceness.
The people I have met in the past, oh, three or so days, have all been just lovely to be around. A group of Positive Event Chain kids (Casey, Pocket, some girls [I can never remember girls' names]); Lauren's study buddy Ryan; a new volunteer, Stacey, from the Herring. Actually, all the people I met this year at the Herring, and the people from Paradiso I've started chilling with.
So, that's interesting, and, of course, enjoyable, but I wonder occasionally something Choz-like such as, "what the dilly, yo?" I used to hate meeting people. I would be defensive, and possessive of my friends, and almost automatically assume the worst of the person, especially girls. Which sounds dumb, and obviously it was. But at least I generally like people now. I wonder why that is.
Oh, and also, on an unrelated note, I like having friends again who I can call in the middle of the night if I need them. It's a reassuring feeling. |
|
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| In an attempt to diffuse the horror |
[Sep. 28., 2006|10:16 pm] |
| [ | currently |
| |  frustrated | ] |
| [ | stuck on repeat |
| | Andrew Osenga | ] |
I went to play at Allen's Coffeehouse tonight, as I had been thinking about doing for months and practicing for for a day or two, though I knew the song already. I could play the song, and sing, and do both of these facets of the performance well. Otherwise there is no way I would have gotten on stage, or signed up, for that matter. So I sit down, move the mics around, make some small talk to get rid of some minor nerves. You know. Some people call out for me to start playing already, joking around, and I laugh and get down to it. I play the first two bars. Then the next two. I say "play" in the sense that I was doing something to the guitar strings, but god help me if I know what. I look down as I'm trying to pick out the tune, and literally cannot focus on my fingers because I am shaking so severely. I stop. Shake out my hands. The blood rushes hotly to my face and I keep going, repeat a few bars, can't bring myself to start singing. Then I sing. After a fashion. And finish the song. I wasn't scared, I wasn't intimidated, I don't know what it was-- I was fascinated, though, in a morbid sort of way, by the fact that I had ZERO CONTROL over my movements-- my fingers, my leg that kept jumping around, my voice. It made me think, while I was playing the song, of people who really don't have control over their bodies, and how madly frustrating it must be.
So I finished, great, whatever, got up, smiled, went and sat down by Ben and JFarr, and started bawling. Hot, I know. So at least now I know that I need more practice in front of crowds if I'm going to ever be successful in that kind of venue. The sad part is that none of them had heard me sing before, besides JP, so now they think that's the best I can do. And it's not. And that includes the person I sang the song for. And now I'm ashamed of myself.
Other things of late:- Love is something that does not happen often.
- My room has clothes covering it. I hate it that way. But I'm not cleaning it. My mother would be appalled. I don't know why I can't bring myself to do anything about it.
- Bodybuilder Adam recently talked about his own apartment through the theory that your living spaces reflect what's going on in your head. Hm.
- We have a new personality psych professor, and his platform is cultural influences (as opposed to our other, sociocognitive professor). He spent the 90-minute class period taking one photograph from his life, and deconstructing its elements. We got about half an hour on his grandfather-- his life history, his personality, what part of Brooklyn he was from-- and he continued with other elements of the picture.
- He said if it weren't a 300-person lecture, that exact task would be our final. An hour-long declination of a picture that means something to us. I want to do it.
- I met up with a kid for an hour or two today, because he is trying to decide between the Vienna program and Berlin, and you see, no one else on this campus knows jack about the Berlin "program," seeing as
- My advisor is gone, and knew nothing anyway,
- The new advisor understandably knows nothing,
- The kid who went the year before me has (also understandably) graduated, and
- The chick going this year has already left.
So I talked at him, and drew a map of the city on the back of a worksheet, and I'm not sure what he's going to pick yet. He has some time. - This is why they should have let me have the student advisor job.
- Right when I came home from said meeting, I was greeted by one e-mail, und zwar: from Bernhard, the first I've heard from him since leaving. What timing. So I've been a little off today. It's okay; it happens.
|
|
|
| Ten days and counting |
[Sep. 26., 2006|09:09 pm] |
| [ | stuck on repeat |
| | Andrew Osenga | ] |
So my social and academic lives have been evening out a little recently, and I have really enjoyed every drop of added stability. It's quite possible I'll end up doing the same things on each weekday every week-- Hare Krishna on Mondays, for example.
So that's the news. Big, I know. |
|
|
| dreams are dumb to take seriously |
[Sep. 23., 2006|01:38 am] |
So I took a nap that turned into five hours of sleep today, from about 2:30 to 7:30. The notable part was how the dream I was having directly before I woke up dealt with someone saying he was going to kill everyone (my family, me, Daci, some other people), and I had a couple of minutes to prepare for it. So then I partially woke up, and something really interesting happened. My mind started going through everyone I know, deciding - a) who I would tell, if I were really going to die in the next day or couple of hours, and
- b) what I would do or say.
It was surprising how efficient I was in going through everyone important to me (which was interesting in itself, as I very quickly decided who, in fact, was important) and what I would say or do in that situation. Some people were in the sequence of being important, but as they came up in the sequence my brain decided that I wouldn't do or say anything to them in that instance. Everything just seemed so clear, like my semiconscious decided everything for me, and I was just watching someone else make the decisions for me. There was only one person who I knew I would want to contact but didn't know what I would want to say. But it was an interesting phenomenon, and as soon as I woke up all the way I started trying to analyze why each decision had been made. Helped me realize a few things. |
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| Stunningly self-absorbed entry: feel free to disregard |
[Sep. 19., 2006|01:07 am] |
| [ | currently |
| | loving | ] |
| [ | stuck on repeat |
| | Counting Crows | ] |
I was in Chicago this weekend. I was in Chicago this weekend. I was in Chicago this weekend.
I was in Chicago this weekend.
I had missed the city so much, despite never having lived there or visited terribly often. But it was brilliant and windy and I found myself gawking at the buildings like a genuine tourist, with my backpack and double-checking of bus stop maps. If you see a skyscraper from a bit of a distance, and compare the size of people standing next to it to its entirety, you may realize that it is one hella big building. You won't find none of that in Berlin, no ma'am, no sir.
In true American public transportation fashion, the (6:00am) train was delayed an hour, then stalled another 40 minutes or so throughout the duration. I was too nice to my seat-mate, and planned an immediate revert to Northern German coolness toward all train-strangers for the future. I found the brown line L (thanks to the convenience of cell phones and Josh) and, after someone paid my fare (score), was slammed in the face with the fact that public trans in America, or at least the L in Chicago, is a very, very class-based affair. It was nearly empty; I got sketchily-looked-at for being white or for carrying luggage [tourist] or for being relatively well dressed, or all three. It was dirty, which doesn't bother me, but reflects on the priorities of the city (though it may be under-funded because no one uses it, because it's underfunded, because, etc etc), and Josh's stop was the one at which it decided to skip stopping. Thankfully, a guy who had been sitting across from me, reading The BFG, was receptive to my obsessive praise and knowledge of Roald Dahl and pointed me in the direction of Western, Josh's street. A couple (four?) more phone calls led me straight(ish) to the room above a colorfully painted brick auto body shop, also known as The Home of Josh, JR, and Kelle (and Laura).
Kellie warmly received me and a shower and nap later, we were off to the (awesome) performance space on Dearborn. I was useless as help, which is just as well as I would have been too distracted by the dancers DANCING AROUND and taking their clothes off and putting more on and stretching and so forth. Distracted in a ::sigh:: kind of way, which I believe Kellie shared (except hers, as she has been around them for two weeks, was probably more like ::die::). I re-met Laura, the "girlfriend" of Josh, who was generally nice to me, and who is a very technically skilled dancer. I knew I had met her before but couldn't remember her, and now that I try to write something, I can't remember much of anything she said or did the whole weekend, except that she is skinny and has a funny nose, which come to think of it STILL isn't anything she said or did.
After some theatre-y things which made me a little nauseous in that they reminded me of how my life should have gone, Kellie and I had quite the enjoyable dinner during which I ate a FREAKING ENORMOUS burrito and inappropriate things were discussed at unapologetically loud volumes, which is quite the Kellie experience to have, which was directly followed by the further Kellie experience of finishing some essential thing for a show in the twenty minutes before it starts, and read: programs and set changes. I met a girl named Carol ("Carl") who had great jeans and was a dancer AND NICE, which rocked out. Kellie got whonged in the face with a swinging door, and her resulting pain (despair?) was apparently not all door-whonging-based, and I felt (and was) ineffective in consoling her. Nice work, me. I guess just no one has needed me for that kind of thing in so long, I forgot how to do it.
I was stunned by Josh's ability to a) handle everything while stressed out due to ai) stuff not being done, aii) people bugging him for direction, and aiii) noting that no one was showing up, while continuing to b) be stunningly bi) attentive when I asked him things and bii) gracious when we did things for him. Yes. Wow. Something (well, a list of things) I never understood how to do under stress. Or ever. And not necessarily what I would have expected from him-- we had never worked on a show together, so I wouldn't have known. It made him come off as very mature (like an adult?), which is maybe the part that actually threw me off. People do change.
Knowing nothing about dance shows, I enjoyed this one. One piece I particularly liked, and Josh was a genuinely funny MC (though I am biased in that I know him and thus, his jokes) and it being his show was something I had never seen before-- plays one directs are not quite the same thing as what he did with these dancers and the space and the tech and the choreography. It made me think about my friends, my peers are old and graduating and married and godparents and have real jobs doing real things, and he's out there in it and I got to see it happen. It sounds trite to say I was proud; like he needed me to be, or like I had some hand in his success, or like I wouldn't have expected it of him. All of which is bullshit. But I was proud of him anyway.
I was moderately stressed due to people having misplaced my laptop and purse which contained, among other things, my passport, driver's liscense, student ID, debit card, money, camera, cell phone, moleskin, and Pilot V-Ball extra fine. Tragic, but recovered. Very little tear-down. Also, very little audience. I was afraid Josh would call off the show, and I was worried less about missing it (would would have been sad, but hey, I wouldn't have known what I was missing) than about Josh and whether he would be okay. But the show must go on, and it did, and I think he has no regrets.
The dancers, who you have to remember I don't know at all, seemed a little off after the show in that they LEFT THEIR DIRECTOR and went to some bar entirely without him (and us) in an entirely-too-brusque move. I was pissed, and I knew nothing of the situation. Seriously mad. I hated those girls. And Laura was being a weirdo during the car ride, and all I wanted to do was talk to Josh for two seconds, for which I shouldn't have gotten my hopes up because it did not happen the entire weekend. So we stopped by the [American] bar, which was weird for me, and went back to the apartment to chill with some very nice friends and dancers actually, some of whom brought Not Dogs in a Kathy-winning gesture. Everyone seemed to relax a bit, and then I obviously relaxed too much, because I fell right asleep.
I woke up in JR's bed (alone!) to Josh telling me to take a shower before going out for breakfast, so I hopped in and was refreshed, and when dressing Kellie rolled over, awake, and psst!-ed me over to ask whether I wanted to go to breakfast with Josh alone to get some time to talk, which was way considerate of her, but ended up being a non-option because Laura had stayed over. We left. I was impressed with Josh's early awakal, and with the greasy spoon (really) diner on the corner, purely for its authenticity in greasy spoonity. The veganness was not pleased, but coffee is coffee, and Josh pulled a classic Josh by ordering some version of steak.
One brief topic of discussion involved me having to explain that Bret and I are not seeing each other, and Josh's theory that he is once again dating Nicole, since around a month ago-- coincidentally when all this between us went down-- came to light. I would have puked if I had, at that point, eaten anything. And then it came down to, as the others moved on to a less banal topic than is-he-really-going-to-pull-that-shit-again,-oh-well-he-asked-for-it, me making a decision as to whether I would trust the person who has no reason to and has never lied to me who was using reason to back up what he was saying, or the person who has plenty of reason to lie, has lied to me about said situation, and will not give any reason as to why what happened happened. I couldn't even decide which of the two it would be more masochistic of me to trust. So I temporarily decided that, regardless of what is really going on, me knowing the truth has very little to do with what I care about: namely, whether he and I are together or not. Which we are not. All I needed to know, I already knew, and whichever the truth is, or whether it is something totally separate, I will not be surprised.
As breakfast ended, Laura bust out and I had to say goodbye to the off-to-work,-burning-both-ends Josh. I was glad to have been there for him, even if I didn't help him by being there. Our friendship has been going in a positive direction for over a year now. It's good. I wish him the best. More best even than I wish most people.
Kellie and I were faced with 10 solid blissful hours before my train was to leave Union Station, and ended up using them quite enjoyably. We're so compatible in such an easy way-- I was even trying to explain this to the two of them earlier, in the truck-- how new and amazing for me it was to be around them, for whom I didn't have to even CONSIDER myself. My actions, or what I would say, and how I don't have to dick around (Josh: these kind of friends are "more like for JUST dicking around", also true) or worry about anything or how I'm coming off or whether my stomach is sticking out or whether I ask a stupid question or do that embarassing thing when you use the wrong vowel sound in a word and it's usually really awkward to either leave it go OR correct it, and then what are you supposed to do, huh, huh?!
So we did some exploring. Park, movie theatre (Little Miss Sunshine, round II! So glad I got to share it), music/book/record/poster/incense store, yuppie baby clothing store. At another yuppie store I excitedly found a present for my mom, well, really for her students, plus the fact that I can't resist buying toys. And the person working was hot. I love finding presents for people, but only if it is the PERFECT present. I detest trying to find something just for some dumb occasion. The crowing jewel of their immediate business neighborhood was this brilliant used bookstore, in which Kellie and I talked across rows and stacks and corners of ceiling-high bookcases, and where I bought Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury, who is the man.
The afternoon concluded with pouring rain (outside, thankfully) as we chilled (chull?) in the apartment, with all the fans going and natural light coming in from all sides, eating crackers, watching the first, um, several episodes of Weeds, and uploading face shots of ourselves for myheritage.com to compare to the faces of B-list male celebrities. It was pretty sweet. I didn't want to leave. I felt like both of us would be much happier if I just stayed and chull there for, you know, an extended-enough period of time that I wouldn't have to go back to U of I and she wouldn't have to deal with JR's nakedness, and assorted other things, all alone. But the time came and I hauled myself and my stuff to the L, the station, the train, my car, my apartment, my bed. Then I made the requisite I-am-alive,-thanks-for-caring phone calls to the people important to me. Then I went to sleep. |
|
|
| Breaking news (in eleven clauses) |
[Sep. 13., 2006|05:04 pm] |
| [ | currently |
| | what | ] |
| [ | stuck on repeat |
| | The Incredible Moses Leroy | ] |
As of one minute ago, I will not, actually, be in Urbana between 6:10am Saturday and 10:34pm Sunday of this weekend, but in Chicago, missing the farmer's market and Garbha, regrettably, but unavoidably, though I will, naturally, be attending the Friday night festivity in full form. |
|
|
| (about 0.3 of all) Thoughts on majors |
[Sep. 13., 2006|01:32 pm] |
| [ | currently |
| |  hopeful | ] |
| [ | stuck on repeat |
| | adam henrichs; make it go away | ] |
- I'm now glad I am not a philosophy major, something I considered.
- I hate being asked what my major is. Ask me where my interests are, or what I enjoy. In the vast majority of people I know, a description of major is, to say the least, inadequate.
- When this conversation happens--
YOU: So I heard you're in charge of the German department.
PROF, HEAD OF GRAD SCHOOL GERMAN DEPT: [ponders] No...
YOU: The grad school program?
PROF, HOGSGD: ...oh. Right. --don't get a master's in German, either.
|
|
|
| Quote of the Day |
[Sep. 12., 2006|05:04 pm] |
PROF: [drawing, at chalkboard] And here's Laban, represented by Gumby in today's fight, and he has... a rope... with nails on the end... and he's basically WHIPPING the SHIT out of Descartes.
--ENGL 201 lecture, what could have been the most boring 90 minutes known to mankind, saved by the prof knowing his target audience. |
|
|
| Sometimes summaries are the way |
[Sep. 10., 2006|11:22 am] |
| [ | currently |
| |  calmer | ] |
| [ | stuck on repeat |
| | Anastasia soundtrack | ] |
Yesterday was such a pleasant day. I woke up, went for a short-ish (in distance, not in time) run, showa-d, had some time to chill on the balcony before my mom got to town. We walked to the farmer's market, bought cantaloupe, yellow baby tomatoes, red skinny tomatoes, bread, seconds peaches, perozhki (three kinds!), and wala wala onions, and walked back through Urbana. Then we collectively cleaned the kitchen, meaning washed every surface (except the floor-- I'll do that today), re-organized everything to make more space, added in my own dishes and food, etc. Robbie stopped by, said hi. Then we ate some peaches. Then we went and scouted the campus bookstores for a German novel (I need to read it for tomorrow) that does not exist. Then it was Brandon's birthday celebration at Strawberry Fields, notably featuring HIS PARENTS, who are about my favorite people ever. Really. And Chris, who is one of those people I should have spent more collective time with in the past couple of years. And the light was perfect and they had those so-rich-even-I-only-wanted-a-2x2-square chocolate peanut butter bars, and a strawberry cake, and I took pretty pictures of everyone. And then we left to get kitchen stuff at Meijer, and it was very sad leaving his parents without getting to really talk to them. Very. And shopping was successful, including two kinds of wheat so I can bang out some bread today while I read for class. Mom left after another little while (it involved Slushees), and it was sad, but I got to sit in my clean, clean apartment and read while watching Center Stage (ha), at the end of which Adam came over. We used to watch TV series together just to have some downtime, and decided we needed to a) take a walk and b) start another series. Walking to Rentertainment ensued (in the much cooled-off weather), choosing of Six Feet Under, walking back, finding no bread (but a sandwich) at Jimmy John's, watching an episode, talking to Lauren, chilling. Adam went off to a party while I prepared for salsa dancing (read: found my shoes). Went to Kofusion, danced with some strangers, found Brandon, wished him a happy 25th. Met some fun girls. Came home, without having cried the entire day. Ate some hummus. Slept. |
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philoserines Journal