So it turns out that I never have to take more than 16 credits' worth of classes per semester again.
Seriously. Even if I keep the Spanish minor, which I likely won't. If I don't, I'll have almost a whole semester's worth of time to take whatever classes I please, and I would love to do that.
I am also going on at least a semester's hiatus from Chamber Singers. I think I've served that system long enough. It taught me a lot, and it feels good to be considered somewhat good, considering the talent base in high school. I have opportunities in this choir that I never had at home. But I need to get out of it before I start hating the music as well as the class, since so far there's a difference. I will miss singing, though. Simply joining an acapella group wouldn't be the same. (As for the original group, which I was invited into and then I dropped out of: basically everybody above freshman year who joined has dropped out as well.)
So I'm going to finish up my gen-eds, except for gym, next semester, taking Intro to Environmental Science (yay!) and Judaism and Islam (since I need a religious/philosophy course--I wanted to wait around for Hebrew Traditions, but I don't know when that will run, if ever, so this's the next-best thing). Enviro-sci kinda limits my options for English courses, so, even though I'm actually not (in defiance of expectation?) the least bit interested in women's-studies-type stuff for its own sake, I'm going to take Women Writers of the Middle Ages with Lily Jo and whoever else happens to show up. Then, for the psych minor, hopefully Cognition and the Aging Mind, which's one of those courses that's gotten renamed now that the system is being overhauled.
(Do not get me started on the new system, since I have a seething rage against the entire [redundant, inefficient, dehumanizing] concept of webportals, and if given a chance, I will go on a long-winded tirade.)
Housing: the apartment has essentially broken up, unless a couple of pretty unlikely things transpire. Lily Jo wants a single if she can possibly get it, since having one this semester has helped her grades (though they were honors-level even before). That's probably what I'll end up doing, too. But if Lily's number is horrible, we're going to ride mine (since I'm in the drawing above hers) and get a double together somewhere. Sara and Megan will end up in a double somewhere, and, well, Lily Jo and I cut ties with Lily K. and Heather. Rooming-wise, anyway. ...They won't room together, I know, but I wish them both luck. Especially Heather, 'cause I worry about her having one of those horrible diabetic seizures alone; she tends not to know what's going on when that happens. She ought to have a roommate, even though it can't be me. (Like I said, she'll tell you all about them if you ask her, so I think I'm okay explaining that here.)
He doesn't read this, either, but Tom, for a while unbeknownst to me, went to a bit of a length to try to find me a roommate, before things got settled. It was very kind.
(It is still really weird to be girlfriend to one identical-twin-who-dislikes-the-other, and friend to the other, but I have learned how to head off trouble before it starts, because sometimes it does, though nothing severe yet, and often enough it's my fault anyway.)
I don't think Tim still reads this, either. ::grins:: I don't really mind, actually.
Okay, it is high time I took a shower and cleaned this horrible swamp that I call a room. Maybe I can even get a nap in before Chamber Singers--now that I am actually sleeping past dawn, I've spent the past couple of nights waking up after creepy dreams, like last semester. My unconscious apparently hates me. I don't know what the deal is. But I am in a much better frame of mind.
-Laurel
3.27.2005
::incredulous:: Holy ruddy cow!
The following is text taken from Explorations in Social Psychology: Readings and Research, edited Steve L. Ellyson and Amy G. Halberstadt, published 1995 (though its format makes it look older). Bolded part is emphasis I'm choosing to lay on. Their text had no italics in the section at all. It's from something written by Colin Turnbull, who had to watch over a really cruel and nasty society as an anthropology project, though the members themselves say that they were unfairly portrayed. After reading this, which are his own words, I'm not entirely certain that they're wrong.
"[Primitive society] hunters frequently display those characteristics that we find so admirable in man: kindness, generosity, consideration, affection, honesty, hospitality, compassion, charity. For them, in their tiny, close-knit society, these are necessities for survival. In our society anyone possessing even half these qualities would find it hard to survive, yet we think these virtues are inherent in man."
I can't believe he thinks that you can't possess any four of those and even live. I cannot believe that he thinks that affection, honesty, kindness, and compassion--things that are not even as complex as the other four, which are all things we teach our kindergarteners--cannot all be held in one person without that person sucking at life!
Like...**dude!** What kind of life does he think he's living? If those things can't exist, what does he keep on living for?
Well, what?!
I should print this off and stick it above my bed, so that every morning I'll be reminded of what I'm up against in changing the world...and what my weapons need to be. I suppose I should work on compassion and charity first.
-Laurel
"[Primitive society] hunters frequently display those characteristics that we find so admirable in man: kindness, generosity, consideration, affection, honesty, hospitality, compassion, charity. For them, in their tiny, close-knit society, these are necessities for survival. In our society anyone possessing even half these qualities would find it hard to survive, yet we think these virtues are inherent in man."
I can't believe he thinks that you can't possess any four of those and even live. I cannot believe that he thinks that affection, honesty, kindness, and compassion--things that are not even as complex as the other four, which are all things we teach our kindergarteners--cannot all be held in one person without that person sucking at life!
Like...**dude!** What kind of life does he think he's living? If those things can't exist, what does he keep on living for?
Well, what?!
I should print this off and stick it above my bed, so that every morning I'll be reminded of what I'm up against in changing the world...and what my weapons need to be. I suppose I should work on compassion and charity first.
-Laurel
3.25.2005
A Good Friday thought
The first time I heard Jars of Clay's "Frail," back in about the seventh grade, it really sort of scared me. What song had I heard that was like this seven minutes of near-despair? I wouldn't even listen to it. It was also the only song I wouldn't listen to when I was lost in my car on Genessee Street, just about a year ago.
Reading Two Towers for the first time in December of the ninth grade, I listened again and decided it could be sort of a going-into-Mordor song, or even a Gollum song, though the lyrics weren't perfect either way. The mood was right for the Ring getting too heavy to bear.
This morning, thinking about what day it was, I came up with another idea: though not, from the lyrics, what I imagine was intended--what if it was about waking up one dark morning, just after the crucifixion, and realizing that someone you'd walked with for a couple of years now, witnessing and doing things you'd never dreamed of before, somebody you believed as a Savior, was dead? Even to the whispers in the background of the track, like those of the people you couldn't help passing by.
You'd have to hear it to make a guess, obviously. And I have no idea what song you'd play for Easter, the day you realized it all was real, like before.
Just thought I'd throw that one out there.
-Laurel
Reading Two Towers for the first time in December of the ninth grade, I listened again and decided it could be sort of a going-into-Mordor song, or even a Gollum song, though the lyrics weren't perfect either way. The mood was right for the Ring getting too heavy to bear.
This morning, thinking about what day it was, I came up with another idea: though not, from the lyrics, what I imagine was intended--what if it was about waking up one dark morning, just after the crucifixion, and realizing that someone you'd walked with for a couple of years now, witnessing and doing things you'd never dreamed of before, somebody you believed as a Savior, was dead? Even to the whispers in the background of the track, like those of the people you couldn't help passing by.
You'd have to hear it to make a guess, obviously. And I have no idea what song you'd play for Easter, the day you realized it all was real, like before.
Just thought I'd throw that one out there.
-Laurel
3.24.2005
Because they're about things close to my heart. ::grin::
::bursts out laughing aloud::
How on earth did I score a zero on the English one? Oh-h-h, I see, 'cause they asked stuff like "I hate reading" and "I never know the difference between they're, there, and their," and I strongly disagreed with those. So they must have figured I didn't need to learn it, 'cause I already do. Wow. That rocks.
Also, I'm disappointed that I didn't get Kablam! or Double Dare, but I could do worse than Doug. Eww, how'd I get 50% for Ren and Stimpy?
And: favorite Turtle, yaaaay! ::grins:: Bossy older sibling figure, that's me.
So maybe I'll have a nap...?
-Laurel
How on earth did I score a zero on the English one? Oh-h-h, I see, 'cause they asked stuff like "I hate reading" and "I never know the difference between they're, there, and their," and I strongly disagreed with those. So they must have figured I didn't need to learn it, 'cause I already do. Wow. That rocks.
 | You scored as Latin. You should learn Latin! Though a dead language, Latin is present in science, history, English, and, of course, the Romance languages. Have fun with those declensions!
What language should you learn? created with QuizFarm.com |
Also, I'm disappointed that I didn't get Kablam! or Double Dare, but I could do worse than Doug. Eww, how'd I get 50% for Ren and Stimpy?
 | You scored as Doug.
Which Old School Nickelodeon Show Are You? created with QuizFarm.com |
And: favorite Turtle, yaaaay! ::grins:: Bossy older sibling figure, that's me.
 | You scored as Leonardo. You need to relax and realize that life should be fun as well as orderly. Your organization and willingness to be perfect will help you along the way, but sometimes you can be very annoying to others.
Which teenage mutant ninja turtle are you? created with QuizFarm.com |
So maybe I'll have a nap...?
-Laurel
Another away message
[Laurel], you know how you said I'd get my good day eventually? Well, that was today. Except for waking up waaaay too early at the beginning and a brief part at the end, today was definitely my good day. I just thought you'd like to know.
It turns out that it doesn't take having a bad day and then reading a message like that to feel better. You can wake up after a good day you never expected, having gotten eight hours of sleep and finally gotten the waking-up-before-alarm trick down to two minutes (normal level), and then find this message and feel like that is exactly why you walked the earth last week, even if the bad days in question that preceded did not involve anything approaching life or death. Just so you could say that thing.
So I've really got to get ready to help at the blood drive now.
-Laurel
It turns out that it doesn't take having a bad day and then reading a message like that to feel better. You can wake up after a good day you never expected, having gotten eight hours of sleep and finally gotten the waking-up-before-alarm trick down to two minutes (normal level), and then find this message and feel like that is exactly why you walked the earth last week, even if the bad days in question that preceded did not involve anything approaching life or death. Just so you could say that thing.
So I've really got to get ready to help at the blood drive now.
-Laurel
3.23.2005
Linkage, if you don't mind giving your ZIP code
Caught this from 'Nanda a while ago: The One Campaign
Was surprised(/cheered) by the number of Christian-music singers getting behind this. And Bono, which is likely how it fell into Ananda's hands. ;-)
-Laurel
Was surprised(/cheered) by the number of Christian-music singers getting behind this. And Bono, which is likely how it fell into Ananda's hands. ;-)
-Laurel
3.22.2005
More 'cause I think it's fun than 'cause I think my readers will be fascinated...
(swiped in part from Megs - songs in no particular order within categories)
Ten songs whose first ten seconds you could listen to over and over:
**okay, I'm going to protest right here at the number of songs whose really cool parts start at about the fifteen-second mark**
1. "And I Love Her," Beatles
2. "In God's Country" (and not only could do so, but have), U2
3. "In My Place," Coldplay
4. "Shiver" (unplugged version ONLY), Coldplay
5. "Dive," Steven Curtis Chapman
6. "Disappear," Jars of Clay
7. "Razreesh," as done by Mediaeval Baebes
8. "Live in Stereo," Newsboys
9. "Texarkana," REM
10. "Play that Funky Music" (apparently I've been in APO too long), Wild Cherry
Ten songs whose lyrics you would read if they had no music:
**okay, as an English major and apparently a sap, it is really hard for me to choose only ten of these**
1. "Summer Moved On," A-Ha
2. "Wait," Beatles
3. "Another First Kiss" (which perhaps would be better without the music), They Might Be Giants
4. "What if I Stumble," dc Talk
5. "The Power of a Moment," Chris Rice
6. "Life Means So Much," Chris Rice
7. "Wonder," Chris Rice (tired of these yet?)
8. "Daylight," Coldplay
9. "Disappear," Jars of Clay (even though that first part is so good)
10. "Kind and Generous," Natalie Merchant
Ten songs whose music you would listen to even without lyrics:
1. "Erev Shel Shoshanim" (another case of already have, 'cause my version doesn't have the lyrics--but I still like the one that does better), Hebrew folk song
2. "Weighed Down," Jars of Clay
3. "Bittersweet Symphony" (this song would be better without lyrics), The Verve
4. "Norwegian Wood," Beatles
5. "Ose Shalom," probably another random Hebrew folk song
6. "Amsterdam," Coldplay
7. "River Constantine," Jars of Clay
8. "Mummers Dance," Loreena McKennitt
9. "Two Princes," Spin Doctors
10. "Sing," Travis (which's odd, considering what the lyrics imply)
Press random ten times. Write down the first line or two of each song:
**well, excluding the instrumentals, of which there are many...**
1. "October, and the trees are stripped bare/Of all they wear..." -"October," U2
2. "In through my veins, without brains..." -"Stomach vs. Heart," BNL
3. "Lights go down, can't be seen/Tides that I try to swim against," -"Clocks," Coldplay (even though this is the remix)
4. "You name me; who am I/That I should company with something so divine?" -"Overjoyed," Jars of Clay
5. "Son, what have you done?/You're caught by the river, you're comin' undone." -"Caught by the River," Doves
6. "Isabel is a belly dancer with a kleptomaniac's restraint/Tried stealin' Eleanor's handbasket, made a fast getaway, but McQueen she ain't..." -"Take Me to Your Leader," Newsboys
7. "Blackbird singin' in the dead of night/Take these broken wings and learn to fly..." -"Blackberry/I Will," as done by the Swingle Singers
8. "Carry me/Your love is wider than my need could ever be..." -"River Constantine," Jars of Clay
9. "It's the song of the redeemed, risin' from the African plain/It's the song of the forgiven, drownin' out the Amazon rain..." -"He Reigns," Newsboys
10. "A picture in gray, Dorian Gray/Just me by the sea..." -"The Ocean," U2
And there're so many I wish I could quote, but can't, and anyway, I was supposed to start getting ready some twenty minutes ago. So am off!
-Laurel
Ten songs whose first ten seconds you could listen to over and over:
**okay, I'm going to protest right here at the number of songs whose really cool parts start at about the fifteen-second mark**
1. "And I Love Her," Beatles
2. "In God's Country" (and not only could do so, but have), U2
3. "In My Place," Coldplay
4. "Shiver" (unplugged version ONLY), Coldplay
5. "Dive," Steven Curtis Chapman
6. "Disappear," Jars of Clay
7. "Razreesh," as done by Mediaeval Baebes
8. "Live in Stereo," Newsboys
9. "Texarkana," REM
10. "Play that Funky Music" (apparently I've been in APO too long), Wild Cherry
Ten songs whose lyrics you would read if they had no music:
**okay, as an English major and apparently a sap, it is really hard for me to choose only ten of these**
1. "Summer Moved On," A-Ha
2. "Wait," Beatles
3. "Another First Kiss" (which perhaps would be better without the music), They Might Be Giants
4. "What if I Stumble," dc Talk
5. "The Power of a Moment," Chris Rice
6. "Life Means So Much," Chris Rice
7. "Wonder," Chris Rice (tired of these yet?)
8. "Daylight," Coldplay
9. "Disappear," Jars of Clay (even though that first part is so good)
10. "Kind and Generous," Natalie Merchant
Ten songs whose music you would listen to even without lyrics:
1. "Erev Shel Shoshanim" (another case of already have, 'cause my version doesn't have the lyrics--but I still like the one that does better), Hebrew folk song
2. "Weighed Down," Jars of Clay
3. "Bittersweet Symphony" (this song would be better without lyrics), The Verve
4. "Norwegian Wood," Beatles
5. "Ose Shalom," probably another random Hebrew folk song
6. "Amsterdam," Coldplay
7. "River Constantine," Jars of Clay
8. "Mummers Dance," Loreena McKennitt
9. "Two Princes," Spin Doctors
10. "Sing," Travis (which's odd, considering what the lyrics imply)
Press random ten times. Write down the first line or two of each song:
**well, excluding the instrumentals, of which there are many...**
1. "October, and the trees are stripped bare/Of all they wear..." -"October," U2
2. "In through my veins, without brains..." -"Stomach vs. Heart," BNL
3. "Lights go down, can't be seen/Tides that I try to swim against," -"Clocks," Coldplay (even though this is the remix)
4. "You name me; who am I/That I should company with something so divine?" -"Overjoyed," Jars of Clay
5. "Son, what have you done?/You're caught by the river, you're comin' undone." -"Caught by the River," Doves
6. "Isabel is a belly dancer with a kleptomaniac's restraint/Tried stealin' Eleanor's handbasket, made a fast getaway, but McQueen she ain't..." -"Take Me to Your Leader," Newsboys
7. "Blackbird singin' in the dead of night/Take these broken wings and learn to fly..." -"Blackberry/I Will," as done by the Swingle Singers
8. "Carry me/Your love is wider than my need could ever be..." -"River Constantine," Jars of Clay
9. "It's the song of the redeemed, risin' from the African plain/It's the song of the forgiven, drownin' out the Amazon rain..." -"He Reigns," Newsboys
10. "A picture in gray, Dorian Gray/Just me by the sea..." -"The Ocean," U2
And there're so many I wish I could quote, but can't, and anyway, I was supposed to start getting ready some twenty minutes ago. So am off!
-Laurel
3.20.2005
> >
I don't think that resignation is having a good effect on me. I kept getting frustrated, at our meeting, at what total morons we are.
Seriously, what is keeping us together? Our being a fraternity? Our having little sets of Greek characters? Those aren't good reasons.
-Laurel
Seriously, what is keeping us together? Our being a fraternity? Our having little sets of Greek characters? Those aren't good reasons.
-Laurel
Let all rules count with you, but none too much
This morning I fell out of bed
When I woke up
To what he had said
Everything's crazy
But I'm too lazy to lie
And what am I to do?
What in the world am I to say?
There's nothing else to do
He says he'll change the world someday
I rejoice...
-"Rejoice" (verse order switched), U2
One of our APO brothers quit the chapter (not a new one, nor a pledge, but a girl that pledged with me), essentially before we could let her go ourselves; all semester she's been headed in the direction of inactivity status (which is not the same as expulsion: she's allowed to come to all of our events; the only thing she really loses is voting rights and maybe a chance to do APO-LEADS).
The reasons she gave are exactly the ones I've been bothered by all semester. She's dropping out for exactly the same reasons I would have dropped out for, had I not been on the executive board and not known how else I would serve if not through this. We're so bogged down by the fraternity necessities we're put through that our service program would be taking the fall even if it had someone capable running it, which so far it doesn't. I hope I'll be better; I don't know.
We're failing as a chapter and we know it. Or I hope we know it.
...I wasn't going to come back to Orientation Guidance this year, except that so much of the program has been changed that I decided to give it one more shot. I thought I did rather badly in the interview, if only because I came off like all original thought on the process had been wiped out during last year's training, and all I had left were the rules drilled in. But Evan, who's of course devoid of any secrecy in the matter, tells me that he's sure I'm in again.
I wonder how much the change had to do with Eoin, a freshman who wrote a horrible (defined as "essentially fact-free, but very polarizing") column about the orientation process. I was angry partially because he was causing only fury, when his article, had it taken a more measured tone, could have been brilliant--the program needed change. I thought it would make everyone all the more defensive, all the more determined to stick to status quo.
So I can be in a program in which I really do believe, despite its flaws. So much is new, and I'm very pleased.
APO can only alter itself in limited ways because we're national, and as it is we have fewer rules than many chapters. But if we don't start changing, our chapter won't live to regret it. The resignation voiced what we've been trying to forget, and I hope it wakes us up.
-Laurel
When I woke up
To what he had said
Everything's crazy
But I'm too lazy to lie
And what am I to do?
What in the world am I to say?
There's nothing else to do
He says he'll change the world someday
I rejoice...
-"Rejoice" (verse order switched), U2
One of our APO brothers quit the chapter (not a new one, nor a pledge, but a girl that pledged with me), essentially before we could let her go ourselves; all semester she's been headed in the direction of inactivity status (which is not the same as expulsion: she's allowed to come to all of our events; the only thing she really loses is voting rights and maybe a chance to do APO-LEADS).
The reasons she gave are exactly the ones I've been bothered by all semester. She's dropping out for exactly the same reasons I would have dropped out for, had I not been on the executive board and not known how else I would serve if not through this. We're so bogged down by the fraternity necessities we're put through that our service program would be taking the fall even if it had someone capable running it, which so far it doesn't. I hope I'll be better; I don't know.
We're failing as a chapter and we know it. Or I hope we know it.
...I wasn't going to come back to Orientation Guidance this year, except that so much of the program has been changed that I decided to give it one more shot. I thought I did rather badly in the interview, if only because I came off like all original thought on the process had been wiped out during last year's training, and all I had left were the rules drilled in. But Evan, who's of course devoid of any secrecy in the matter, tells me that he's sure I'm in again.
I wonder how much the change had to do with Eoin, a freshman who wrote a horrible (defined as "essentially fact-free, but very polarizing") column about the orientation process. I was angry partially because he was causing only fury, when his article, had it taken a more measured tone, could have been brilliant--the program needed change. I thought it would make everyone all the more defensive, all the more determined to stick to status quo.
So I can be in a program in which I really do believe, despite its flaws. So much is new, and I'm very pleased.
APO can only alter itself in limited ways because we're national, and as it is we have fewer rules than many chapters. But if we don't start changing, our chapter won't live to regret it. The resignation voiced what we've been trying to forget, and I hope it wakes us up.
-Laurel
...haaaa.
So I've been informed, because my directional sense is so mediocre that I couldn't figure it out, that my window faces east, like at home. Last year in the dorm it faced west.
On endless to-do list: perhaps temporarily curtain window?
Went bowling last night to celebrate Evan's birthday. It was all APO people except for Andrew from acapella, who's rooming with Chris next year and hanging out a lot with Heather in the meantime, so we'll likely see a lot more of him. It was much fun, and I bowled slightly above average for me, which means that I scored in about the low 80s (I'm not, obviously, all that good).
Have finished A Spell for Chameleon. Reading it this weekend happened mostly at night (this was not true of Monday - Thursday). This did absolutely nothing to help my sleeping patterns, let's just say, but had a role in how wonderful the weekend has felt. Besides, after last night I had to use it as a rehappification device after reading Isaac Asimov's "The Last Question," which came highly recommended by both Brian Nadworny and Tim, but which freaked me out more than anything (it's just so...cold, and the only thing resembling familiar humanity is already drunk when the story begins). Chameleon, on the other hand, represented much of what I love about books (though--and here I sound like the flying prude that I absolutely am--it did have its pervy moments, and quite a few of them, too), and I am happy to own it.
Which means that I need a new book to start, preferably one that won't keep me up nights. Perhaps another Newbery? Though I do need to finish Silver on the Tree, since that went back to the library at about the page-108 mark, and Tim now owns it (bought in a similar fashion as my Chameleon book). Though this will sound like a slam, Susan Cooper books tend to make me wait until about 3/4 through to make me feel like I have to do anything but kinda slog through them, and this will be good for the sleep factor.
What would also be good for the sleep factor: getting my Spanish homework started today prior to 8 pm. To which I have to say, ha, fat chance; I'm going to spend the afternoon napping again.
-Laurel
On endless to-do list: perhaps temporarily curtain window?
Went bowling last night to celebrate Evan's birthday. It was all APO people except for Andrew from acapella, who's rooming with Chris next year and hanging out a lot with Heather in the meantime, so we'll likely see a lot more of him. It was much fun, and I bowled slightly above average for me, which means that I scored in about the low 80s (I'm not, obviously, all that good).
Have finished A Spell for Chameleon. Reading it this weekend happened mostly at night (this was not true of Monday - Thursday). This did absolutely nothing to help my sleeping patterns, let's just say, but had a role in how wonderful the weekend has felt. Besides, after last night I had to use it as a rehappification device after reading Isaac Asimov's "The Last Question," which came highly recommended by both Brian Nadworny and Tim, but which freaked me out more than anything (it's just so...cold, and the only thing resembling familiar humanity is already drunk when the story begins). Chameleon, on the other hand, represented much of what I love about books (though--and here I sound like the flying prude that I absolutely am--it did have its pervy moments, and quite a few of them, too), and I am happy to own it.
Which means that I need a new book to start, preferably one that won't keep me up nights. Perhaps another Newbery? Though I do need to finish Silver on the Tree, since that went back to the library at about the page-108 mark, and Tim now owns it (bought in a similar fashion as my Chameleon book). Though this will sound like a slam, Susan Cooper books tend to make me wait until about 3/4 through to make me feel like I have to do anything but kinda slog through them, and this will be good for the sleep factor.
What would also be good for the sleep factor: getting my Spanish homework started today prior to 8 pm. To which I have to say, ha, fat chance; I'm going to spend the afternoon napping again.
-Laurel
3.19.2005
Ahhh...
Went to a maple place with IV this morning. Took rather longer than we intended, since Gabe got us lost and then, when we got there, there was a line out the door and allll down the walk. How brilliant of us, to have gone during New York State Maple Producers' Weekend; everyone and their brother was there (in Tim and Tom's case, literally--rather to their mutual dismay).
But we got in and out faster than one would have guessed, and the ride back was sheer bliss, the radio playing, the sun shining down and warming us, the window open just enough for a breeze, and no need to talk--Terri and Dan up front, hands lightly touching; Tim having a nap across my shoulder; Amy and me looking out the windows, lip-synching to the song playing.
Yesterday and today have been nice, after a week that stretched on much longer than usual, filled with stress and not much sleep. And the things I've liked best are the really simple, homelike ones.
I think I need to start smaller than cosmic. I have to convince myself again that you really can change things in very small steps.
Maybe, even though I'll be twenty in a month and a half, this isn't the middle; even though I'll have an internship, have to think about a career, have to think about where my life is going, maybe this is still the beginning.
-Laurel
But we got in and out faster than one would have guessed, and the ride back was sheer bliss, the radio playing, the sun shining down and warming us, the window open just enough for a breeze, and no need to talk--Terri and Dan up front, hands lightly touching; Tim having a nap across my shoulder; Amy and me looking out the windows, lip-synching to the song playing.
Yesterday and today have been nice, after a week that stretched on much longer than usual, filled with stress and not much sleep. And the things I've liked best are the really simple, homelike ones.
I think I need to start smaller than cosmic. I have to convince myself again that you really can change things in very small steps.
Maybe, even though I'll be twenty in a month and a half, this isn't the middle; even though I'll have an internship, have to think about a career, have to think about where my life is going, maybe this is still the beginning.
-Laurel
3.17.2005
Yes!
Caught this off TheOneRing.net:
Lord of the Beans
3/16/05, 3:46 pm EST - Tehanu
Can't wait for the musical? Family media company Veggie Tales is working on a computer animated children's DVD that will be called "The Lord of the Beans." A preview is on their latest DVD "Duke and the Great Pie War". It will include "baggy pants" instead of Baggins and Sporks (fork plus spoon combo) instead of Orcs. Instead of a Ring their is a Bean, etc. Veggie Tales Thanks to Odd Gelki for the news!
Have I mentioned lately (I type as I sit here in my Larry the Cucumber t-shirt) that I love VeggieTales? :-D
-Laurel
Lord of the Beans
3/16/05, 3:46 pm EST - Tehanu
Can't wait for the musical? Family media company Veggie Tales is working on a computer animated children's DVD that will be called "The Lord of the Beans." A preview is on their latest DVD "Duke and the Great Pie War". It will include "baggy pants" instead of Baggins and Sporks (fork plus spoon combo) instead of Orcs. Instead of a Ring their is a Bean, etc. Veggie Tales Thanks to Odd Gelki for the news!
Have I mentioned lately (I type as I sit here in my Larry the Cucumber t-shirt) that I love VeggieTales? :-D
-Laurel
St. Patrick's Day fun
"The patron saint of engineers...kiss me! I'm Irish and an Engineer!"
-Cassandra's thoughts on the day
Well, I think I've figured out what it is that's making my room smell weird: the aforementioned sprouted garlic. Trash can is not nearly full, but I have a feeling it's going to be taken out today anyway.
And I deserved way better results on this quiz than I got, but I'm posting it simply because this geek quiz actually assumed that I had a blog instead of a livejournal. And that impressed me. ::giggles::
You are a good old-fashioned six-sided cube, otherwise known as a d6. Others know you to be plain, predictable, conservative, average, ordinary, and downright boring. You prefer to describe yourself as dependable, honest, practical and trustworthy. People usually know what to expect from you, since you rarely hold any surprises. You hate to make decisions, and if forced to decide, you'll always fall back on how it was done in the past. You always order the same thing at your favorite restaurant, and your jokes, while funny, are never too offensive. It seems that you are well liked, but maybe that's simply because there's nothing to hate.
Okay, I am really going back to bed. I can't just get up; I did that yesterday and I left my sanity under the covers. I will find a way to get back to sleep.
-Laurel
-Cassandra's thoughts on the day
Well, I think I've figured out what it is that's making my room smell weird: the aforementioned sprouted garlic. Trash can is not nearly full, but I have a feeling it's going to be taken out today anyway.
And I deserved way better results on this quiz than I got, but I'm posting it simply because this geek quiz actually assumed that I had a blog instead of a livejournal. And that impressed me. ::giggles::
You are a good old-fashioned six-sided cube, otherwise known as a d6. Others know you to be plain, predictable, conservative, average, ordinary, and downright boring. You prefer to describe yourself as dependable, honest, practical and trustworthy. People usually know what to expect from you, since you rarely hold any surprises. You hate to make decisions, and if forced to decide, you'll always fall back on how it was done in the past. You always order the same thing at your favorite restaurant, and your jokes, while funny, are never too offensive. It seems that you are well liked, but maybe that's simply because there's nothing to hate.
Okay, I am really going back to bed. I can't just get up; I did that yesterday and I left my sanity under the covers. I will find a way to get back to sleep.
-Laurel
3.16.2005
::with a yawn::
This morning's random thought: if speech is the overflow of the heart, then so are blogs. Especially since I say some things here that I wouldn't say verbally--they just don't seem right aloud.
You know, last year, my body at least did me the common courtesy of waiting until daylight-savings time before it made me start getting up earlier than I needed to. It should've been the other way round, but instead I started getting up two hours early every morning. I'm doing that now. We'll see whether DST, whenever it comes, alleviates or exacerbates the problem.
Chris, wonderful Rescue Squad nut that he is, has posted an advisory of sorts on his away message: It seems a potential food poisoning epidemic is sweeping its way through [school], so everyone watch what you eat.
...Wow, do I ever need to stop writing about the same things and people all the time.
Back when I had to do acting-journals every single day, I got so desperate for things to write about that I once wrote a page (well, front only) about how everybody on my side of the room in linguistics was holding their pens. They allll did it differently, including me.
All right, there're fifty minutes before I really need to be up, so here's going back to bed.
-Laurel
You know, last year, my body at least did me the common courtesy of waiting until daylight-savings time before it made me start getting up earlier than I needed to. It should've been the other way round, but instead I started getting up two hours early every morning. I'm doing that now. We'll see whether DST, whenever it comes, alleviates or exacerbates the problem.
Chris, wonderful Rescue Squad nut that he is, has posted an advisory of sorts on his away message: It seems a potential food poisoning epidemic is sweeping its way through [school], so everyone watch what you eat.
...Wow, do I ever need to stop writing about the same things and people all the time.
Back when I had to do acting-journals every single day, I got so desperate for things to write about that I once wrote a page (well, front only) about how everybody on my side of the room in linguistics was holding their pens. They allll did it differently, including me.
All right, there're fifty minutes before I really need to be up, so here's going back to bed.
-Laurel
3.15.2005
And a last little bit
I missed the Ides of March.
Tim and Tom's dad also got food poisoning today, from something completely different. Well, that's weird.
Okay, so I killed the plants. But I think I would do better with a fish. Maybe I should get a fish. I wouldn't mind a living companion, and I used to have fish when I was littler. But it would look lonely, and then I'd end up with three fish, 'cause two fish, I don't know, I just don't like the idea.
Dude, why can't I just be glad my boyfriend lives in the house? It's bedtime again, I can feel it.
-Laurel
Tim and Tom's dad also got food poisoning today, from something completely different. Well, that's weird.
Okay, so I killed the plants. But I think I would do better with a fish. Maybe I should get a fish. I wouldn't mind a living companion, and I used to have fish when I was littler. But it would look lonely, and then I'd end up with three fish, 'cause two fish, I don't know, I just don't like the idea.
Dude, why can't I just be glad my boyfriend lives in the house? It's bedtime again, I can feel it.
-Laurel
Growth, medicalness, etc.
Considering that I managed to kill all of the herbs that I brought to the house at year's beginning, it was actually sort of comforting to see my garlic sprout, even though it some of it got mushy later on, so I chucked the remainder of the bulb out.
In other food news, Tom apparently got majorly food-poisoned and came into lunch today looking, I'm serious, like he'd been punched in both eyes, they were that blacky-purple in large circles around them. He was actually going to go to class thereafter, but either good sense got to him or his stomach did, for he went to sleep instead.
Heather actually has a worse story for last night than Tom: she went into diabetic seizure and ended up in the hospital. She makes no secret of it, so I write it here. ...If I room with her next year, that will be the most, well, interesting aspect of our roomiehood for me, since they do happen with some regularity, though usually not this badly.
Tim's life progresses as normal. As does mine, except mine is including slightly more sleep than his (but not much).
That's all for now.
-Laurel
In other food news, Tom apparently got majorly food-poisoned and came into lunch today looking, I'm serious, like he'd been punched in both eyes, they were that blacky-purple in large circles around them. He was actually going to go to class thereafter, but either good sense got to him or his stomach did, for he went to sleep instead.
Heather actually has a worse story for last night than Tom: she went into diabetic seizure and ended up in the hospital. She makes no secret of it, so I write it here. ...If I room with her next year, that will be the most, well, interesting aspect of our roomiehood for me, since they do happen with some regularity, though usually not this badly.
Tim's life progresses as normal. As does mine, except mine is including slightly more sleep than his (but not much).
That's all for now.
-Laurel
3.13.2005
Oh. One last thing--::as surveys just-read paper::
Bwa-ha to me. It's only Terri's bridal shower I've been invited to; I glanced at the invitation on my way out of school before break and didn't bother reading it through. Though I think I can actually come to the shower (shock!), we're all putting $5 toward one big gift (bigger, very happy shock!), and, truth be told, I've never heard of anyone being invited to a shower who wasn't later invited to the wedding.
Have begun first Xanth book. Have not died of horrible puns...and is actually very good so far.
-Laurel
Have begun first Xanth book. Have not died of horrible puns...and is actually very good so far.
-Laurel
Away message
I wish I were in high school again, the tail end of senior year, that was the best - making memories with SJ, the Merry Women & the Sheriff of Normingham, all my QMB friends, Eco Club, throwing lightsabers in K-J's class, skipping class with Ralyea to talk, Doughnut Day with Mr. G, etc. Those were the days. Life was simple, fun, with a definite purpose...
If I didn't know better, I'd be certain Tom had this link. How many times this semester is one of us going to have a thought, only to have the other one have it too?
I'd rather have junior year back, though. Even though so many awful things happened. Maybe...maybe January? That was the most purposeful I've been since I can remember.
It is so bedtime.
-Laurel
If I didn't know better, I'd be certain Tom had this link. How many times this semester is one of us going to have a thought, only to have the other one have it too?
I'd rather have junior year back, though. Even though so many awful things happened. Maybe...maybe January? That was the most purposeful I've been since I can remember.
It is so bedtime.
-Laurel
Back-at-school post
Look, I figured out off of Megs's LJ how to make hearts: ♥
Not that I will probably ever need to know that, unless it's to render an I ♥ NY sign or something.
So: Millie was cool, though not my all-time favorite like it is John's.
Visited church-people after the service and discovered that the LeVans took a year off from teaching twelfth-grade Sunday school. This was disappointing, inasmuch as I'd been waiting to see them, but I got to have a very nice conversation with Bob DeRoo.
Also got to hear a little about Rachele's family (I think that's how she spelled it) and how they coped/are coping with her suicide. :( I didn't know her; she was in my brother's grade. I know her older brothers a little, though. Rachele's mom had been helping out a lot with the teen program at the time. I didn't know that; she hadn't been while I was there.
Her mother must be devastated. I'd be wondering whether I was so caught up with everyone else's children that I missed the warning signs for my own. ...I hope she doesn't feel like that.
In other news:
Dad had some mercy/impatience on the backseat of my car and got the cheese Pringle crumbs/stains out that have been there since the Ottawa trip, when John and Zack created them. I asked for a vacuum and was going to do it, but he was doing stuff with the car anyway.
Trip back was a bit snowy but otherwise ordinary.
Had a special APO event to help out our nine pledges with their interviews...to which two pledges showed up. And we realized we've scheduled a meeting for Easter.
(::moans:: why is underachieving the thing we're best at?!)
My room smells like lemon chicken, but I don't know why.
And tonight's horrible pun (to truly appreciate the backstory, which was clean but weird, you had to be at the APO thingy): Don't let the Twelve Disciples drive; they'll probably fishtail.
...Yup, that's all I have to say about that.
-Laurel
Not that I will probably ever need to know that, unless it's to render an I ♥ NY sign or something.
So: Millie was cool, though not my all-time favorite like it is John's.
Visited church-people after the service and discovered that the LeVans took a year off from teaching twelfth-grade Sunday school. This was disappointing, inasmuch as I'd been waiting to see them, but I got to have a very nice conversation with Bob DeRoo.
Also got to hear a little about Rachele's family (I think that's how she spelled it) and how they coped/are coping with her suicide. :( I didn't know her; she was in my brother's grade. I know her older brothers a little, though. Rachele's mom had been helping out a lot with the teen program at the time. I didn't know that; she hadn't been while I was there.
Her mother must be devastated. I'd be wondering whether I was so caught up with everyone else's children that I missed the warning signs for my own. ...I hope she doesn't feel like that.
In other news:
Dad had some mercy/impatience on the backseat of my car and got the cheese Pringle crumbs/stains out that have been there since the Ottawa trip, when John and Zack created them. I asked for a vacuum and was going to do it, but he was doing stuff with the car anyway.
Trip back was a bit snowy but otherwise ordinary.
Had a special APO event to help out our nine pledges with their interviews...to which two pledges showed up. And we realized we've scheduled a meeting for Easter.
(::moans:: why is underachieving the thing we're best at?!)
My room smells like lemon chicken, but I don't know why.
And tonight's horrible pun (to truly appreciate the backstory, which was clean but weird, you had to be at the APO thingy): Don't let the Twelve Disciples drive; they'll probably fishtail.
...Yup, that's all I have to say about that.
-Laurel
3.12.2005
Saturday update
Went to the bookstore again, this time with Mom and Dad. Still no Screwtape, Golden Compass, or other paperback Narnia books, but what can you expect after only five days? There is a science fiction section now, however, and fairly well-organized, so I now own the first Xanth book. That ought to please the twins.
Went to the coffee shop and hung out with the parental units there, too. That was cool. Had more chai. It is getting a little dangerous, how much I like the stuff. I'm pretty sure the spot on the knee of the jeans I am wearing is the chai-mark that didn't come out from when I spilled it all over my desk.
Going to do something with Erik today, I guess, and then see Thoroughly Modern Millie with my mom--hurrah!
-Laurel
Went to the coffee shop and hung out with the parental units there, too. That was cool. Had more chai. It is getting a little dangerous, how much I like the stuff. I'm pretty sure the spot on the knee of the jeans I am wearing is the chai-mark that didn't come out from when I spilled it all over my desk.
Going to do something with Erik today, I guess, and then see Thoroughly Modern Millie with my mom--hurrah!
-Laurel
3.11.2005
The sap runs in March (Laurel waxes nostalgic)
Tim isn't going to Boston if he can help it; Kim, as it turns out, is staying with family there. So she doesn't have to find a place to live (which the Milwaukee thing gave Tim and this one doesn't) or food (ditto), and Tim would. As it is, he'd be a semester behind and couldn't graduate on time. I wonder if this is also true for Kim. She's definitely going. He doesn't want to.
I have to say, I'm immensely relieved.
This's going to sound like I'm really depressed, but I'm not--
...Zinni and I have been talking for a long time tonight, and it feels good to hear about Florida and all the things I've been missing, and to talk about things like folk dancing. There's an odd comfort in ticking off the news, not that we've been doing much of that tonight, but in going from person to person, telling everything that you can think of--this person's doing these things, and this one went here, and this one's cousin had a baby...
...what's unsettling, these days, is that, for many of the home friends, I have no idea what they're up to, and many of them are, online, a lot like I've been: with an away, checking messages, but too busy to talk for an hour or even a minute about what's going on. Now that I'm home, I have nothing "better" to do.
Like I said, I thought that more things would be permanent. What I loved so much about high school, about home, was my friends. I thought there couldn't be any better people out there, and I was so blessed to have been given them.
And so I was. But now they're the people I barely even know--the people I pledged friendship to for the rest of my life, and some days I hardly care about most of them, and some days they hardly care about me. A sophomore friend told me, earlyish freshman year, that that would happen, and was startled when I nearly started to cry. Now I'm the sophomore, and I can see how one could forget what it was like. I know that Keith, one of our pledges, is attached to home the way I was. And I watch him, detachedly and with a feeling of older wisdom, knowing that one of two things will happen--he'll find someplace that can make him happier than here, or he'll break with one home to make a second.
Some of our pledges are obviously doing it in the same way I did--APO. Funny how that unsettles me.
I can't think of people anymore as I'd like to, as people I'll do everything next to, like I did in eighth grade with Ananda and Daffodil and Zinnia. Look at that, the way we named ourselves. Daffy and 'Nanda were first, after the Monkees fanfic they were part of, and Zinni and I followed after, choosing our flowers so carefully, to make our names perfect for us. Laurel, the beautiful color, the liquidy sound, the little flower, and Christensen after, not really based on faith, but simply because there'd been a kid in my old school with that last name, and I'd always loved the sound of it, and thought it went so well with Laurel.
Laurel Marie Christensen. Zinnia Rae Brook. We'd designate days, the two of us, wearing our hair in pigtails to signify the alter egos. We didn't need fanfic; we had autobiographies to write, and we tried. They were all full names for a while, but we wrote so many messages to each other that they all got shortened: 'Nanda, Daffy, Zinni, Laur.
And there have been so many wonderfully-different friend moments: Aneya with our fourth-grade Velcro shoes and then sitting next to each other in fifth grade. My gaining entrance into Megan and Bethie's private friend-journal with one apparently-apt written imitation of Dr. Watson, to Megan's Holmes. Bethie, me, the glass bubble, and the mosaic...and, much later, the pacing. Arsenic, and all the friends from there I never thought I'd have. Jayj finding baby oil on his glasses on opening night. Erik following me down the hall to start a conversation. Glenn, whom I only half-knew, latching onto our Busch Gardens group on the choir trip, and pretending, with Daffy and Matt and me, to fly as we rode the swings.
The one amazing day and night when I met John, our friendship born and blossoming so fast it left me almost dizzy. Evan, whose one question turned into half an hour of friendliness, and then a whole year. Tom in folk dancing--the entry says it all. Tim leaving his screenname scrawled on a napkin piece where he knew I'd find it, hoping we'd be friends. It didn't have his name on it; I only knew it was his because, hoping the same, I'd memorized it a few weeks before when I saw Tom send him a message.
But some of those people are gone, or are going. Some of the people I hold dearest now will also be. I can't understand that, but now, to my muted horror, I can picture it...I know how it would go.
And so life will go, I guess? Picking up friends and letting them drop as I go one place or another, clinging to family because that's the constant?
But it isn't family I want. It's my friends. The way we were. I guess I haven't changed enough to be glad the time has passed, or maybe to be glad that I've changed.
-Laurel
I have to say, I'm immensely relieved.
This's going to sound like I'm really depressed, but I'm not--
...Zinni and I have been talking for a long time tonight, and it feels good to hear about Florida and all the things I've been missing, and to talk about things like folk dancing. There's an odd comfort in ticking off the news, not that we've been doing much of that tonight, but in going from person to person, telling everything that you can think of--this person's doing these things, and this one went here, and this one's cousin had a baby...
...what's unsettling, these days, is that, for many of the home friends, I have no idea what they're up to, and many of them are, online, a lot like I've been: with an away, checking messages, but too busy to talk for an hour or even a minute about what's going on. Now that I'm home, I have nothing "better" to do.
Like I said, I thought that more things would be permanent. What I loved so much about high school, about home, was my friends. I thought there couldn't be any better people out there, and I was so blessed to have been given them.
And so I was. But now they're the people I barely even know--the people I pledged friendship to for the rest of my life, and some days I hardly care about most of them, and some days they hardly care about me. A sophomore friend told me, earlyish freshman year, that that would happen, and was startled when I nearly started to cry. Now I'm the sophomore, and I can see how one could forget what it was like. I know that Keith, one of our pledges, is attached to home the way I was. And I watch him, detachedly and with a feeling of older wisdom, knowing that one of two things will happen--he'll find someplace that can make him happier than here, or he'll break with one home to make a second.
Some of our pledges are obviously doing it in the same way I did--APO. Funny how that unsettles me.
I can't think of people anymore as I'd like to, as people I'll do everything next to, like I did in eighth grade with Ananda and Daffodil and Zinnia. Look at that, the way we named ourselves. Daffy and 'Nanda were first, after the Monkees fanfic they were part of, and Zinni and I followed after, choosing our flowers so carefully, to make our names perfect for us. Laurel, the beautiful color, the liquidy sound, the little flower, and Christensen after, not really based on faith, but simply because there'd been a kid in my old school with that last name, and I'd always loved the sound of it, and thought it went so well with Laurel.
Laurel Marie Christensen. Zinnia Rae Brook. We'd designate days, the two of us, wearing our hair in pigtails to signify the alter egos. We didn't need fanfic; we had autobiographies to write, and we tried. They were all full names for a while, but we wrote so many messages to each other that they all got shortened: 'Nanda, Daffy, Zinni, Laur.
And there have been so many wonderfully-different friend moments: Aneya with our fourth-grade Velcro shoes and then sitting next to each other in fifth grade. My gaining entrance into Megan and Bethie's private friend-journal with one apparently-apt written imitation of Dr. Watson, to Megan's Holmes. Bethie, me, the glass bubble, and the mosaic...and, much later, the pacing. Arsenic, and all the friends from there I never thought I'd have. Jayj finding baby oil on his glasses on opening night. Erik following me down the hall to start a conversation. Glenn, whom I only half-knew, latching onto our Busch Gardens group on the choir trip, and pretending, with Daffy and Matt and me, to fly as we rode the swings.
The one amazing day and night when I met John, our friendship born and blossoming so fast it left me almost dizzy. Evan, whose one question turned into half an hour of friendliness, and then a whole year. Tom in folk dancing--the entry says it all. Tim leaving his screenname scrawled on a napkin piece where he knew I'd find it, hoping we'd be friends. It didn't have his name on it; I only knew it was his because, hoping the same, I'd memorized it a few weeks before when I saw Tom send him a message.
But some of those people are gone, or are going. Some of the people I hold dearest now will also be. I can't understand that, but now, to my muted horror, I can picture it...I know how it would go.
And so life will go, I guess? Picking up friends and letting them drop as I go one place or another, clinging to family because that's the constant?
But it isn't family I want. It's my friends. The way we were. I guess I haven't changed enough to be glad the time has passed, or maybe to be glad that I've changed.
-Laurel
'Cause I'm a sucker for novelty, apparently...
...look, the first stacking quiz I've ever seen! Draw your own conclusions about the results (I take issue with the last paragraph of the bottom myself); I just thought it was fun. :-D
What is your world made of?
brought to you by Quizilla
Internship looks to be a go; more details later.
...So Tim may end up in Boston for all this summer and all next semester, since so far that's the only internship/co-op that he's heard back from. Kim got the same internship; they may even get to work together.
-Laurel
What is your world made of?
brought to you by Quizilla
Internship looks to be a go; more details later.
...So Tim may end up in Boston for all this summer and all next semester, since so far that's the only internship/co-op that he's heard back from. Kim got the same internship; they may even get to work together.
-Laurel
3.08.2005
Hee!
There's going to be a Wallace and Gromit movie in October. I watched the trailer. It looks very cute and well-done, with a pretty good storyline.
Check it out for yourself: http://www.wandg.com
Played DDR for like half an hour today, finally. And now it's time for lunch, more reading, maybe a nap, maybe trying not to freak out about having a job interview tomorrow.
I can't show her anything about SAFE if she asks; I don't have anything from it. They were supposed to give us our folders back, but I don't think they ever did. Who do I talk to? I barely remember anything about who ran it...
Okay, enough of that; at least I'm fully-prepared for any questions about my public-relations experience. I printed off pretty much everything I ever did as PR chair for APO. I did have my moments, though Heather will probably, in the end, be much better for the position, if she isn't already.
::snorts:: Though maybe she should have my service-veep job, too, considering she's the only one doing anything right now. I feel like my hands are tied until Mike's out of office; she has no such concern.
But the lunch. Having lunch. And reading. Ah, bliss.
-Laurel
Check it out for yourself: http://www.wandg.com
Played DDR for like half an hour today, finally. And now it's time for lunch, more reading, maybe a nap, maybe trying not to freak out about having a job interview tomorrow.
I can't show her anything about SAFE if she asks; I don't have anything from it. They were supposed to give us our folders back, but I don't think they ever did. Who do I talk to? I barely remember anything about who ran it...
Okay, enough of that; at least I'm fully-prepared for any questions about my public-relations experience. I printed off pretty much everything I ever did as PR chair for APO. I did have my moments, though Heather will probably, in the end, be much better for the position, if she isn't already.
::snorts:: Though maybe she should have my service-veep job, too, considering she's the only one doing anything right now. I feel like my hands are tied until Mike's out of office; she has no such concern.
But the lunch. Having lunch. And reading. Ah, bliss.
-Laurel
-a brief update-
Also, the bookstore sells used videos, music, and some silk scarves or something like that. Some clothing. Very odd and eclectic.
And I imagine that it would be more efficient to nail my shoes to the floor first, and then fill them with shaving cream.
Read Magician's Nephew tonight and made all-purpose cookie dough, which then got split into several different mini-batches of cookies. I think the lemon poppyseed are the winners, and the hint-of-orange the losers (followed closely by hint-of-maple), and the others are somewhere in between.
Also watched a lot of Whose Line. One new episode, if you can believe it.
It is a great show; I spent three years obsessed with it. But I think, sad to say, that its glory days are gone.
Anyway, a little more reading, perhaps one more cookie (even with my teeth already brushed and flossed and my mouth rinsed out?) and then going to bed.
-Laurel
And I imagine that it would be more efficient to nail my shoes to the floor first, and then fill them with shaving cream.
Read Magician's Nephew tonight and made all-purpose cookie dough, which then got split into several different mini-batches of cookies. I think the lemon poppyseed are the winners, and the hint-of-orange the losers (followed closely by hint-of-maple), and the others are somewhere in between.
Also watched a lot of Whose Line. One new episode, if you can believe it.
It is a great show; I spent three years obsessed with it. But I think, sad to say, that its glory days are gone.
Anyway, a little more reading, perhaps one more cookie (even with my teeth already brushed and flossed and my mouth rinsed out?) and then going to bed.
-Laurel
3.07.2005
::is absolutely beside self with excitement::
I saw not one copy of Screwtape Letters, but it doesn't matter: the new bookstore is absolutely my hero.
I cannot believe how big that bookstore is. Whatever was in there before, I must not have visited the place. It looks bigger, though, 'cause it's not really full yet. But still...I was floored.
It's also not very organized. The pulp fiction is vaguely organized in that all the L-authored books are all together, and they fall between the K-authored and M-authored books, but within each letter it's an alphabetical free-for-all.
The effect grows as you progress to things like classics, children's books, and chapter books. (The latter two sections are essentially the same; I saw the same Narnia books appear in each section, sometimes from different coverings and with different prices.) This means that, when I hit utopia (i.e. children's classics, young adult series, and Newberys), I spent something like forty-five minutes searching the shelves (though, to be fair, it would have been only half an hour if I wasn't making absolutely certain that they didn't have The Golden Compass).
Some of the books are brand-new, still in wrapping; some are obviously used. Everything, everything is 60% off of the publishers' price unless otherwise marked. I stared and stared; there are books there that I don't have a place for, and didn't have the money to include in my checkout group, but I know some of my friends would love to have them, some teachers--and I wouldn't be surprised if some collectors--would love to have.
It was so beautiful that I actually got a bit choked up. And I am not ashamed.
I paid what works out to be about $3.25 per book, and I bought seven books, and they're all good:
-Little Women, unabridged, with both Parts I and II in the same book
-The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass, even though I haven't read either of them or The Golden Compass, which comes before. As I mentioned, I tried to find it, found multiple copies of the other two, but failed at locating this one, and will have to look when I come back on Saturday with Mom. (If I'm still unsuccessful, I'll get it out of the school library and see if I can actually start it this time.) I have heard from several reliable sources that the series is totally amazing, but if for some freak reason I don't like it, I'll give these two to Tim.
-Prince Caspian, The Horse and His Boy, Dawn Treader, and Magician's Nephew, since I didn't theretofore own any of the Narnia books. Two are original-numbering, two are renumbered, so that ought to be enough to annoy the crap out of everybody, in the meantime. When I have them all, I will probably doctor half of the spines with tape, since I read them rearranged chronologically and favor that numbering. ::as Albert and Ananda put shaving cream in my shoes and then nail them to the floor::
And I'd already been to the library and taken out five books, four of them Newberys, one of them Lois Lowry's Messenger.
So, home friends, the moral here is: go as soon as you can, as soon as you get home. Don't wait. I think this's the store's first week, and maybe even the first day. It won't take people long to figure out how incredible the place is. Take advantage of it before it's too late, before all the good stuff's gone--especially you, 'Nanda, 'cause some of the "classics" section is your thing completely. Go, go, go.
Dinner now, and then losing myself in the printed word until such time as my compulsion to get back on AIM kicks in.
-Laurel
I cannot believe how big that bookstore is. Whatever was in there before, I must not have visited the place. It looks bigger, though, 'cause it's not really full yet. But still...I was floored.
It's also not very organized. The pulp fiction is vaguely organized in that all the L-authored books are all together, and they fall between the K-authored and M-authored books, but within each letter it's an alphabetical free-for-all.
The effect grows as you progress to things like classics, children's books, and chapter books. (The latter two sections are essentially the same; I saw the same Narnia books appear in each section, sometimes from different coverings and with different prices.) This means that, when I hit utopia (i.e. children's classics, young adult series, and Newberys), I spent something like forty-five minutes searching the shelves (though, to be fair, it would have been only half an hour if I wasn't making absolutely certain that they didn't have The Golden Compass).
Some of the books are brand-new, still in wrapping; some are obviously used. Everything, everything is 60% off of the publishers' price unless otherwise marked. I stared and stared; there are books there that I don't have a place for, and didn't have the money to include in my checkout group, but I know some of my friends would love to have them, some teachers--and I wouldn't be surprised if some collectors--would love to have.
It was so beautiful that I actually got a bit choked up. And I am not ashamed.
I paid what works out to be about $3.25 per book, and I bought seven books, and they're all good:
-Little Women, unabridged, with both Parts I and II in the same book
-The Subtle Knife and The Amber Spyglass, even though I haven't read either of them or The Golden Compass, which comes before. As I mentioned, I tried to find it, found multiple copies of the other two, but failed at locating this one, and will have to look when I come back on Saturday with Mom. (If I'm still unsuccessful, I'll get it out of the school library and see if I can actually start it this time.) I have heard from several reliable sources that the series is totally amazing, but if for some freak reason I don't like it, I'll give these two to Tim.
-Prince Caspian, The Horse and His Boy, Dawn Treader, and Magician's Nephew, since I didn't theretofore own any of the Narnia books. Two are original-numbering, two are renumbered, so that ought to be enough to annoy the crap out of everybody, in the meantime. When I have them all, I will probably doctor half of the spines with tape, since I read them rearranged chronologically and favor that numbering. ::as Albert and Ananda put shaving cream in my shoes and then nail them to the floor::
And I'd already been to the library and taken out five books, four of them Newberys, one of them Lois Lowry's Messenger.
So, home friends, the moral here is: go as soon as you can, as soon as you get home. Don't wait. I think this's the store's first week, and maybe even the first day. It won't take people long to figure out how incredible the place is. Take advantage of it before it's too late, before all the good stuff's gone--especially you, 'Nanda, 'cause some of the "classics" section is your thing completely. Go, go, go.
Dinner now, and then losing myself in the printed word until such time as my compulsion to get back on AIM kicks in.
-Laurel
3.06.2005
Massachusetts and New York
Okay, so it wasn't Boston that we went to on the trip, which was a sort of choral one, except that there were only five of us plus Luanne, and all of us female (women's choral festival, basically a collegiate version of All-County). It was actually Northampton, which took us all (except Luanne) by surprise, since we apparently hadn't bothered to look up Smith College online.
We rode there in what was basically her SUV (though the gas mileage was rather better), the six of us talking pretty much the whole way about sundry things, especially Luanne and her family. She and Lydia basically told their life stories to one another (too bad I didn't bring any popcorn--::giggles::), but I missed part of that because I fell asleep for brief periods, I think twice. Without a pillow, the first time, so I clocked myself twice on the forehead, against the windowsill (such as it was), as I was dreaming about something or other. It was not a violent dream, so the first hit half-woke me in disoriented surprise, and the second (almost immediately after the first) brought me fully back to consciousness. The second one was just below the eyebrow, and harder, enough to leave a small and rather amusing mark (but it hurt).
I haven't the time, nor the inclination, to describe Northampton and Smith in a hecka-lotta detail, but here are some general thoughts:
1) You're allowed to take food out of the Smith dining halls as long as it's on paper/styrofoam plates instead of the regular ones. This floored me.
2) The food tastes pretty good, which was nearly as amazing.
3) The water tastes wonderful, which was astounding (since I'm thinking of school), but the locals don't like it and they pay a lot of money for the bottled stuff.
4) Smith does not have a lot of residence halls. Even many of the freshmen live in funky big old houses on campus, many built in the 1800s (and probably not, as my hostess joked, renovated since then). They are very pretty, outside and in, and the rooms are set off from the main corridors (at least in some houses) so that light noise made in the hall will probably not reach one's room.
5) But, as absolutely gorgeous as the place is (and it is), I am glad that I do not go there, much as I am glad that I chose the "crappy party school" (oh, cirrostratus clouds above, I cannot believe that that's the first title it ever got on this blog) over the runner-up (also an all-girls' school, though with an all-guys' one pretty much in the same place). It is a lovely school (Smith, I mean specifically), but, while not really haughty, it is not quite down-to-earth; it's really more consciously intellectual than I care to have to imitate. I mean, I am all for profound discussion, but it felt like...I don't know, like you sort of had to be a really evaluative, critically-minded person, and the more feminist (or at least liberal), the better. Not that I have a problem with this in a specific way, but I actually appreciate the mix I get at school, a generally liberal group in a semi-conservative town.
Or maybe that was just the inclinations of Nora and Sarah, the two girls who watched me, so to speak. Sarah was the official host; Nora looked after Lydia and me until our hosts got out of choir practice. I liked both Smith girls, and they both reminded me of people from New York, ainly in terms of faces.
What to say about the choral festival, except that I was in it? We spent all of Saturday practicing, except when we were eating or getting-into-dress-clothes-etc. All of it. It was crazy stuff. For the concert, the mass choir was last, and it was every single group, essentially, that had performed for the whole weekend. I was so buried in people that I couldn't turn the pages of my music unless I hoisted them up to neck-level. That would have looked pretty dumb if anyone could see me, but Luanne, from the balcony, had a hard time finding me, surrounded as I was by many taller altos (several in front of me). I could, from the little space I had, see the director-lady. That was good.
Also, which was amazing, I discovered that, if I drink water all day, my singing voice sounds really clear and good by night, even if I've been practicing all day. This is very exciting, and I totally plan to do the camel thing before our April concert back at school.
Today I got up at six-thirty and was home by three-thirty (six hours of Luanne driving us, about 1-hour-45 of me driving alone back home). Here are two things that I should not be allowed to do: 1) get less than 7.5 hours of sleep on any given night; 2) drink highly-caffeinated beverages. However, since I have flagrantly violated the first rule for much of this pastweek month semester, I broke the second so that I could drive home semi-safely.
I will say only this: even without any real dancing going on, folk-dancing music is spectacular entertainment when you've downed a couple of servings of Wegmans "Red W" soda. Like, "Batuta de la Mironu" is great.
(Though not exactly cartoonish in my twitchiness, I was still glad to have cruise control to rely on. This is totally why I will never take drugs, even legal depressants like alcohol.)
So here I am at home, after a happy reunion with my mom (I grated cheese for her lasagna, watched part of the first Harry Potter movie with her, etc.), and catching up with my friends. Bethie apparently had a good trip to Mexico until conusming the--what was it, the Guadalajaran Salad of Doom? ...Tim went to a book sale at the library, though he was apparently not too thrilled with the selection, or with the skiing that also went on today.
Oh, oh, oh, guess what! There's a bookstore in town now! Next to the coffee shop! (Not the one you're near, 'Nanda, but the other one.) If it's open tomorrow and the sky's not dumping down snow, I am definitely going there. And if they have a semi-cheap copy of Screwtape Letters, they will totally be my collective hero. (Have decided that the book is not going to spontaneously return from wherever it is, and I will have to replace it. I have missed it too much, even when I borrowed Albert's copy.)
I should stop watching network news with my dad, though. It is just as depressing as ever. Jeesh, I thought pro-anorexia LJ cults were bad; the online find-a-suicide-partner rings in Japan are, unbelievably, worse. Like, I realize that America is way too far into acting out its emotions (see succeeding paragraph), but you can't go to the other extreme, either; Japanese people are apparently so hesitant to talk about their problems aloud that they'd rather go through with group suicide than back out once they've committed to it.
Also, I **told** you Grand Theft Auto was horrible. Some young guy essentially re-enacted, in real life, whatever scene it apparently is where you go into the police station, kill the policemen, and steal the police car. Everybody imaginable is, naturally, being sued. ...Dude, what good will that do? It isn't--and I can hardly believe I'm saying this--it isn't Wal-Mart that's the real problem. Even if they did sell the guy the game, the problem is the however-many-thousand brains that actually get some sort of perverse pleasure out of beating pixellated old ladies to death with their handbags.
And I realize that this includes a few within my readership, and that they tell me it's a stress relief and not a fantasy generator, and it's just one troubled guy. But I'm gonna squinch my eyes shut on this one and say that I don't care, real-life deaths or none, it's nauseating to watch, and I can't imagine what line of thinking it must take to play. Everyone who's ever watched someone play MarioKart, for goodness's sake, can see that people treat video games like they're actually there...or think Harvest Moon, and how my brother used to make me promise I wouldn't marry my character off to the girl that the guy in his file had already married.
My brother, however, neither reads this nor plays GTA. Hurrah for both of those.
And I realize I say this as someone who doesn't even go in for games with fantasy violence (the LotR slash-the-orcs deal, etc.), which I have much less of a problem with. I realize that I can't understand the joy of performing a Final Fantasy spell to knock down the hit points of the nemesis you've been battling all across the storyline. I realize that I have a ridiculously sensitive definition of "violent," such that I've truly (though in younger days) questioned the ethics of stomping on a Goomba's head, much less spitting a fireball at it.
I realize that, on the other hand, it doesn't take a lot of violence to make one smack one's brother really hard when especially provoked.
So I'm gonna shut up and go get some sleep. And about time, too.
-Laurel
We rode there in what was basically her SUV (though the gas mileage was rather better), the six of us talking pretty much the whole way about sundry things, especially Luanne and her family. She and Lydia basically told their life stories to one another (too bad I didn't bring any popcorn--::giggles::), but I missed part of that because I fell asleep for brief periods, I think twice. Without a pillow, the first time, so I clocked myself twice on the forehead, against the windowsill (such as it was), as I was dreaming about something or other. It was not a violent dream, so the first hit half-woke me in disoriented surprise, and the second (almost immediately after the first) brought me fully back to consciousness. The second one was just below the eyebrow, and harder, enough to leave a small and rather amusing mark (but it hurt).
I haven't the time, nor the inclination, to describe Northampton and Smith in a hecka-lotta detail, but here are some general thoughts:
1) You're allowed to take food out of the Smith dining halls as long as it's on paper/styrofoam plates instead of the regular ones. This floored me.
2) The food tastes pretty good, which was nearly as amazing.
3) The water tastes wonderful, which was astounding (since I'm thinking of school), but the locals don't like it and they pay a lot of money for the bottled stuff.
4) Smith does not have a lot of residence halls. Even many of the freshmen live in funky big old houses on campus, many built in the 1800s (and probably not, as my hostess joked, renovated since then). They are very pretty, outside and in, and the rooms are set off from the main corridors (at least in some houses) so that light noise made in the hall will probably not reach one's room.
5) But, as absolutely gorgeous as the place is (and it is), I am glad that I do not go there, much as I am glad that I chose the "crappy party school" (oh, cirrostratus clouds above, I cannot believe that that's the first title it ever got on this blog) over the runner-up (also an all-girls' school, though with an all-guys' one pretty much in the same place). It is a lovely school (Smith, I mean specifically), but, while not really haughty, it is not quite down-to-earth; it's really more consciously intellectual than I care to have to imitate. I mean, I am all for profound discussion, but it felt like...I don't know, like you sort of had to be a really evaluative, critically-minded person, and the more feminist (or at least liberal), the better. Not that I have a problem with this in a specific way, but I actually appreciate the mix I get at school, a generally liberal group in a semi-conservative town.
Or maybe that was just the inclinations of Nora and Sarah, the two girls who watched me, so to speak. Sarah was the official host; Nora looked after Lydia and me until our hosts got out of choir practice. I liked both Smith girls, and they both reminded me of people from New York, ainly in terms of faces.
What to say about the choral festival, except that I was in it? We spent all of Saturday practicing, except when we were eating or getting-into-dress-clothes-etc. All of it. It was crazy stuff. For the concert, the mass choir was last, and it was every single group, essentially, that had performed for the whole weekend. I was so buried in people that I couldn't turn the pages of my music unless I hoisted them up to neck-level. That would have looked pretty dumb if anyone could see me, but Luanne, from the balcony, had a hard time finding me, surrounded as I was by many taller altos (several in front of me). I could, from the little space I had, see the director-lady. That was good.
Also, which was amazing, I discovered that, if I drink water all day, my singing voice sounds really clear and good by night, even if I've been practicing all day. This is very exciting, and I totally plan to do the camel thing before our April concert back at school.
Today I got up at six-thirty and was home by three-thirty (six hours of Luanne driving us, about 1-hour-45 of me driving alone back home). Here are two things that I should not be allowed to do: 1) get less than 7.5 hours of sleep on any given night; 2) drink highly-caffeinated beverages. However, since I have flagrantly violated the first rule for much of this past
I will say only this: even without any real dancing going on, folk-dancing music is spectacular entertainment when you've downed a couple of servings of Wegmans "Red W" soda. Like, "Batuta de la Mironu" is great.
(Though not exactly cartoonish in my twitchiness, I was still glad to have cruise control to rely on. This is totally why I will never take drugs, even legal depressants like alcohol.)
So here I am at home, after a happy reunion with my mom (I grated cheese for her lasagna, watched part of the first Harry Potter movie with her, etc.), and catching up with my friends. Bethie apparently had a good trip to Mexico until conusming the--what was it, the Guadalajaran Salad of Doom? ...Tim went to a book sale at the library, though he was apparently not too thrilled with the selection, or with the skiing that also went on today.
Oh, oh, oh, guess what! There's a bookstore in town now! Next to the coffee shop! (Not the one you're near, 'Nanda, but the other one.) If it's open tomorrow and the sky's not dumping down snow, I am definitely going there. And if they have a semi-cheap copy of Screwtape Letters, they will totally be my collective hero. (Have decided that the book is not going to spontaneously return from wherever it is, and I will have to replace it. I have missed it too much, even when I borrowed Albert's copy.)
I should stop watching network news with my dad, though. It is just as depressing as ever. Jeesh, I thought pro-anorexia LJ cults were bad; the online find-a-suicide-partner rings in Japan are, unbelievably, worse. Like, I realize that America is way too far into acting out its emotions (see succeeding paragraph), but you can't go to the other extreme, either; Japanese people are apparently so hesitant to talk about their problems aloud that they'd rather go through with group suicide than back out once they've committed to it.
Also, I **told** you Grand Theft Auto was horrible. Some young guy essentially re-enacted, in real life, whatever scene it apparently is where you go into the police station, kill the policemen, and steal the police car. Everybody imaginable is, naturally, being sued. ...Dude, what good will that do? It isn't--and I can hardly believe I'm saying this--it isn't Wal-Mart that's the real problem. Even if they did sell the guy the game, the problem is the however-many-thousand brains that actually get some sort of perverse pleasure out of beating pixellated old ladies to death with their handbags.
And I realize that this includes a few within my readership, and that they tell me it's a stress relief and not a fantasy generator, and it's just one troubled guy. But I'm gonna squinch my eyes shut on this one and say that I don't care, real-life deaths or none, it's nauseating to watch, and I can't imagine what line of thinking it must take to play. Everyone who's ever watched someone play MarioKart, for goodness's sake, can see that people treat video games like they're actually there...or think Harvest Moon, and how my brother used to make me promise I wouldn't marry my character off to the girl that the guy in his file had already married.
My brother, however, neither reads this nor plays GTA. Hurrah for both of those.
And I realize I say this as someone who doesn't even go in for games with fantasy violence (the LotR slash-the-orcs deal, etc.), which I have much less of a problem with. I realize that I can't understand the joy of performing a Final Fantasy spell to knock down the hit points of the nemesis you've been battling all across the storyline. I realize that I have a ridiculously sensitive definition of "violent," such that I've truly (though in younger days) questioned the ethics of stomping on a Goomba's head, much less spitting a fireball at it.
I realize that, on the other hand, it doesn't take a lot of violence to make one smack one's brother really hard when especially provoked.
So I'm gonna shut up and go get some sleep. And about time, too.
-Laurel
3.04.2005
-secondary update-
A paragraph and thesis statement written. Am understanding the story better.
And something strange has happened: I have gotten so sick of moody music, Coldplay and U2's sad stuff, that I have gone one-eighty, playing Monkees, Michael W. Smith--Fraggle Rock, for goodness's sake, anything with an upbeat. "Dead Parrot Sketch." Playing now, Spin Doctors, "Two Princes."
Casey went home for the semester, by the way. Did I mention? She's going crazy, adjusting to stuff, but she's with her family, which's what she really wanted all along. Anthro is very quiet without her.
Back to the homework.
-Laurel
And something strange has happened: I have gotten so sick of moody music, Coldplay and U2's sad stuff, that I have gone one-eighty, playing Monkees, Michael W. Smith--Fraggle Rock, for goodness's sake, anything with an upbeat. "Dead Parrot Sketch." Playing now, Spin Doctors, "Two Princes."
Casey went home for the semester, by the way. Did I mention? She's going crazy, adjusting to stuff, but she's with her family, which's what she really wanted all along. Anthro is very quiet without her.
Back to the homework.
-Laurel
3.03.2005
-update-
Tim said he was sorry for not calling. It's all better that way.
But it's midnight, and I have not one word of Spanish written, or one speck cleaned/packed, and the whole campus is depressed again, it seems.
I mean, dude, I am so not the only one. Tom, at least, agrees with that; we both see it all around, but have no will to change it.
Tim and I talk about these things, too, but the thing about the two of them is, they're a lot simpler in their worrying. Like, I don't think this is because they're guys; I've seen guys do it. I think it's because they're Tim and Tom.
But it's kind of funny. They worry, what am I going to do about this homework due tomorrow? This is the kind of thing Tim frets about all the time, homework and classes, whereas my panic is just so cosmic--what am I doing? where am I going? should I be doing what I do? does anything I do matter? how do I keep a faith in a set of classes that keeps trying to convince me that it doesn't exist? what happened between high school and now, and why, and not only can I get high school back, but should I? why can I never stay happy?
And why am I so eager that everyone should know how miserable I am, but so uneasy about it when they do?
I got sleep, more than usual. It isn't helping. It's everything I see around me. No sooner do I find myself happy than I see someone who's so obviously miserable that it's infectious, so I catch it and spread it. I mean, was high school like this, even when Aubrey was starving himself?
Okay, it was. There were a lot of mornings, especially early March, where I'd sit over the heater and talk under my breath to--never mind to whom--trying to figure out how to deal with what I was seeing. But it was Aubrey that was the problem, and sometimes Bryan. It wasn't cosmic. I didn't feel like I'd be doomed to misery if I came up with the wrong answers. It was easy enough to believe that everything would be all right in the end. Good and evil were easy to understand.
It was always, always right to make your friends' troubles your business. We were taught that we could save them that way. Now I feel shut out even when I've got the energy to deal with them--what can I say? And a lot of times, to my self-loathing, I honestly don't have the patience to deal with what I see as their whining.
I fully realize that the whining is also my own.
Nothing's simple enough for me anymore. I'm starting to make decisions and cut out all other points of view simply because that's the only way I can deal with the opinion and information overload. And when I do it, I can't stand myself. Why should I go with what's easy instead of what's right?
I don't want to go home, though. What few home friends I have left don't have breaks coinciding with mine.
Can I start over but still keep Tim and APO? If I can, how can I?
And if I can't...but I don't want to think about that.
-Laurel
But it's midnight, and I have not one word of Spanish written, or one speck cleaned/packed, and the whole campus is depressed again, it seems.
I mean, dude, I am so not the only one. Tom, at least, agrees with that; we both see it all around, but have no will to change it.
Tim and I talk about these things, too, but the thing about the two of them is, they're a lot simpler in their worrying. Like, I don't think this is because they're guys; I've seen guys do it. I think it's because they're Tim and Tom.
But it's kind of funny. They worry, what am I going to do about this homework due tomorrow? This is the kind of thing Tim frets about all the time, homework and classes, whereas my panic is just so cosmic--what am I doing? where am I going? should I be doing what I do? does anything I do matter? how do I keep a faith in a set of classes that keeps trying to convince me that it doesn't exist? what happened between high school and now, and why, and not only can I get high school back, but should I? why can I never stay happy?
And why am I so eager that everyone should know how miserable I am, but so uneasy about it when they do?
I got sleep, more than usual. It isn't helping. It's everything I see around me. No sooner do I find myself happy than I see someone who's so obviously miserable that it's infectious, so I catch it and spread it. I mean, was high school like this, even when Aubrey was starving himself?
Okay, it was. There were a lot of mornings, especially early March, where I'd sit over the heater and talk under my breath to--never mind to whom--trying to figure out how to deal with what I was seeing. But it was Aubrey that was the problem, and sometimes Bryan. It wasn't cosmic. I didn't feel like I'd be doomed to misery if I came up with the wrong answers. It was easy enough to believe that everything would be all right in the end. Good and evil were easy to understand.
It was always, always right to make your friends' troubles your business. We were taught that we could save them that way. Now I feel shut out even when I've got the energy to deal with them--what can I say? And a lot of times, to my self-loathing, I honestly don't have the patience to deal with what I see as their whining.
I fully realize that the whining is also my own.
Nothing's simple enough for me anymore. I'm starting to make decisions and cut out all other points of view simply because that's the only way I can deal with the opinion and information overload. And when I do it, I can't stand myself. Why should I go with what's easy instead of what's right?
I don't want to go home, though. What few home friends I have left don't have breaks coinciding with mine.
Can I start over but still keep Tim and APO? If I can, how can I?
And if I can't...but I don't want to think about that.
-Laurel
My night after 6 pm
Given Tim not calling as promised to tell me where to meet him for dinner, and given a need to sign out of my room for the break at 10 tomorrow morning because of Boston trip:
Waking up from nap after both dining halls close -> going out to get money for Boston and a coffee-house focaccia-with-salad and vanilla chai. Homework/packing for tomorrow not even started.
Process annoying but bearable so far.
Getting meal to go -> driving to Tom's to drop stuff off with him -> driving back.
Chai and meal are getting cold, and homework not done, but process still all right.
Setting chai down for one second on desk -> chai tipping over by, seriously, unknown means and spilling all over desk, wristguard, bottom of keyboard, bottom of right speaker, bottom of monitor, mousepad, mouse, side of desk, bookshelf, floor, jeans, phone bill -> moving keyboard and angling -> cleaning up -> noticing that chai is dripping onto Paddington Bear from London, not to mention floor on other side of room -> general anger -> long cleanup time -> scented blogging area -> lost use of still-wet wristguard -> homework/packing still not done.
Having a little trouble. And still haven't had dinner, which is now cold.
-Laurel
Waking up from nap after both dining halls close -> going out to get money for Boston and a coffee-house focaccia-with-salad and vanilla chai. Homework/packing for tomorrow not even started.
Process annoying but bearable so far.
Getting meal to go -> driving to Tom's to drop stuff off with him -> driving back.
Chai and meal are getting cold, and homework not done, but process still all right.
Setting chai down for one second on desk -> chai tipping over by, seriously, unknown means and spilling all over desk, wristguard, bottom of keyboard, bottom of right speaker, bottom of monitor, mousepad, mouse, side of desk, bookshelf, floor, jeans, phone bill -> moving keyboard and angling -> cleaning up -> noticing that chai is dripping onto Paddington Bear from London, not to mention floor on other side of room -> general anger -> long cleanup time -> scented blogging area -> lost use of still-wet wristguard -> homework/packing still not done.
Having a little trouble. And still haven't had dinner, which is now cold.
-Laurel
3.01.2005
> >
Part of the problem I have been having, I think, is something in psych that gets called emotional loneliness--when you have a lot of friends, but few really special people.
Ananda and Daf and Zinnia will remember things like junior high, Zinni's basement, a lot of moments of pure deep connection, right? Sometimes they really were out of shared trouble, even when that didn't mean the same as mutual trouble. Sometimes it was seeing the world in the same way. It's not something worth trying to describe, but there were times that you felt it and you knew the other(s) felt it, too, and you can call it love, I guess maybe it's like philia, but...but it's hard to say. You have to be there for it.
With a lot of people here at school, I see the seeds of it--things about people that endear them to me, moments where I'm around them and I'm glad to be around them--and I keep waiting for that moment, you know, where something comes together, especially when I'm in an invitational setting.
Too often these days, I wait without any success.
I fervently hope it's not something as chicky as that most of my friends are guys now and guys don't share a lot of secrets. I don't like thinking that's the whole basis. It's not so much secrets as--I don't get much depth. I don't need to know who you'd die to put your arms around, though such a thing would be interesting to know. But what your hopes are, what your opinions are, what you think maybe I agree with but you aren't sure--are we all so afraid of angering each other that they never get said?
Is it something I say, do people try sometimes, only to have me shoot them down because I'm being a smart aleck instead of a friend?
Even the thing about the movies--was not very deep. There's actually more to the story, and it's those added elements, which I didn't describe, that made what connection there was that day. But this same confidance (not confidence, different) makes description difficult, you know?
Like, shared trouble is the closest we get, but it's in a different way--it's not inviting somebody into the situation. If you read the messages, read the spoken words, it's I'm miserable; I say 'leave a message,' but what I mean is only to read, know I'm miserable, and leave me alone.
Or maybe that's just me, especially AIM-wise, where getting comments is embarrassing and not getting them is lonely.
We hang around each other so much, and we all say we're lonely. Some of them, I can't help them; they're lonely, but for a lover, not a friend. That one hurts, but not as much as when you see a friend, hang around with them, and then see I'm so lonely, and know that what you've done hasn't really meant a thing.
We walk around without sleep, like zombies; without connection, like satellites.
The only common thread is melodrama, like here.
-Laurel
Ananda and Daf and Zinnia will remember things like junior high, Zinni's basement, a lot of moments of pure deep connection, right? Sometimes they really were out of shared trouble, even when that didn't mean the same as mutual trouble. Sometimes it was seeing the world in the same way. It's not something worth trying to describe, but there were times that you felt it and you knew the other(s) felt it, too, and you can call it love, I guess maybe it's like philia, but...but it's hard to say. You have to be there for it.
With a lot of people here at school, I see the seeds of it--things about people that endear them to me, moments where I'm around them and I'm glad to be around them--and I keep waiting for that moment, you know, where something comes together, especially when I'm in an invitational setting.
Too often these days, I wait without any success.
I fervently hope it's not something as chicky as that most of my friends are guys now and guys don't share a lot of secrets. I don't like thinking that's the whole basis. It's not so much secrets as--I don't get much depth. I don't need to know who you'd die to put your arms around, though such a thing would be interesting to know. But what your hopes are, what your opinions are, what you think maybe I agree with but you aren't sure--are we all so afraid of angering each other that they never get said?
Is it something I say, do people try sometimes, only to have me shoot them down because I'm being a smart aleck instead of a friend?
Even the thing about the movies--was not very deep. There's actually more to the story, and it's those added elements, which I didn't describe, that made what connection there was that day. But this same confidance (not confidence, different) makes description difficult, you know?
Like, shared trouble is the closest we get, but it's in a different way--it's not inviting somebody into the situation. If you read the messages, read the spoken words, it's I'm miserable; I say 'leave a message,' but what I mean is only to read, know I'm miserable, and leave me alone.
Or maybe that's just me, especially AIM-wise, where getting comments is embarrassing and not getting them is lonely.
We hang around each other so much, and we all say we're lonely. Some of them, I can't help them; they're lonely, but for a lover, not a friend. That one hurts, but not as much as when you see a friend, hang around with them, and then see I'm so lonely, and know that what you've done hasn't really meant a thing.
We walk around without sleep, like zombies; without connection, like satellites.
The only common thread is melodrama, like here.
-Laurel