Life is funny, life's a mess
Sometimes a curse, sometimes a blessing
Don't worry about a thing
I'm not sure I've ever seen Erica cry, as she more or less did tonight, but it was nothing to what her younger brother was doing on his end...he's decided to become Christian. It's been a long time coming.
There are so few easy conversions, which makes sense and all, as it has to be genuine. But the kind of thing like in the beginning of Acts, where Peter preaches, and, bang, the masses convert because all their puzzle pieces fit together...that doesn't seem to happen anymore. ...I have a friend who once represented, to me, that dreamlike instant conversion, hear the message and turn to Christ; it only took the once with her. But now she worries that she committed for the wrong reasons; she wants to go back to the start, learn all the basics. And I think she'll come out of it better than she went in. But I'll have to go looking, again, for an example of just-that-easy. If one exists.
She asked me to help with those basics. We started, sort of, with prayer; when we talk again tomorrow, it'll probably be more about that. And while this has been a difficult week, it certainly has been quite the week for answered prayer. I'll have a lot of news for her.
-Laurel
2.19.2007
::snort::
This program, I should point out, is not a translator (apparently, in a few isolated cases it will, but generally it's not--don't really know how that works, but...), but if you know a language, it will read pretty much any statement back to you that you type in said tongue.
So, of course, I tried the Spanish dialects, which're pretty cool. Only here's the thing. I was a minor in Spanish (or at least a planned one) for two years. I was in some form of Spanish class every year from the time I was twelve to the time I was twenty. So what vocabulary, what brilliance did I dredge up when I wanted a sentence with a double-l (which is its own letter in Spanish), since that would force the Argentinian dialectical pronunciation (most Spanish-speaking people pronounce "ll" like a "y," but Argentinians make a "zhuh" sound, like in "leisure")? None of the stuff I got from Ariana, who's from Argentina. No, I fell back on Gabe G.'s "Me llamo Paco; quiero un taco. No quiero bailar."
I'm not sure whether to be amused or ashamed. :-p
-Laurel
(P.S. Apparently there's a limit on how much testing you can do before it decides your online trial is up. Clearing my history and cookies didn't work, so I guess I'm gonna have to wait it out.)
So, of course, I tried the Spanish dialects, which're pretty cool. Only here's the thing. I was a minor in Spanish (or at least a planned one) for two years. I was in some form of Spanish class every year from the time I was twelve to the time I was twenty. So what vocabulary, what brilliance did I dredge up when I wanted a sentence with a double-l (which is its own letter in Spanish), since that would force the Argentinian dialectical pronunciation (most Spanish-speaking people pronounce "ll" like a "y," but Argentinians make a "zhuh" sound, like in "leisure")? None of the stuff I got from Ariana, who's from Argentina. No, I fell back on Gabe G.'s "Me llamo Paco; quiero un taco. No quiero bailar."
I'm not sure whether to be amused or ashamed. :-p
-Laurel
(P.S. Apparently there's a limit on how much testing you can do before it decides your online trial is up. Clearing my history and cookies didn't work, so I guess I'm gonna have to wait it out.)
2.17.2007
2.16.2007
Fabulously-Free-of-Classes Friday
I thought last week was pretty much the fastest one all semester, and then I got to this week.
I'm still behind on the thesis. I was supposed to be done with the books a month ago. I still have ten more. I have no idea how this is going to work or how on earth I'm going to focus the project.
These are fairly dark days for most everybody I know. CB once said that the hardest months to live in Alfred are November and March, but I would like to challenge March in favor of February. Not that it extends only to Alfred.
This is one of those entries where I thought I was going to have more to say, wrote two paragraphs about other things, and ended up taking them out. Sorry about that. More another time.
I'm still behind on the thesis. I was supposed to be done with the books a month ago. I still have ten more. I have no idea how this is going to work or how on earth I'm going to focus the project.
These are fairly dark days for most everybody I know. CB once said that the hardest months to live in Alfred are November and March, but I would like to challenge March in favor of February. Not that it extends only to Alfred.
This is one of those entries where I thought I was going to have more to say, wrote two paragraphs about other things, and ended up taking them out. Sorry about that. More another time.
2.14.2007
Snow day! An actual, official snow day! In Alfred!
That's right, chicos y chicas. I got up at 7:45 today to get ready for my 8:30 class, but there was no 8:30 class to be had.
I found out from John and Chris, who were making lots of noise in their room and sounding excited. When I peeked in their room to say hello, they told me the news, which they'd learned via campus-wide e-mail. Then they went to wake up Erica and Lily Jo, just to tell them that they could go back to sleep. I came, too.
Having done that, we (John, Chris, and I) were too keyed up to go back to bed. So, before too long, we and Libby (John's girlfriend, if I haven't mentioned her before) decided to do something slightly unexpected: we bundled up, tromped through the 18-or-something inches of accumulated snow (walking down the middle of the only-half-plowed Park Street), and went to the Jet, the diner on Main Street ("Jet" is its shortened form; it's actually the "Collegiate").
It was actually open; we were kind of impressed (though it is the Ninoses, so perhaps we shouldn't have been). Shelly Ninos was the only one working (in part because another worker couldn't get her car out of her driveway), and there was only one other table's-worth of customers there besides us. So, figuring to make the most of it, we four sat down at the counter, which was a good vantage point from which to observe Shelly making our breakfasts (though by the time she took our orders, her husband had come in to help).
So we pretty much went for the sugar, except for Chris, who's apparently trying to cut his intake down: John and Libby got milkshakes, and I got cinnamon toast along with my egg-and-toast. (Note to non-Alfredians: Jet cinnamon toast is unlike any other cinnamon toast you've ever had. Think melty sugar icing, sort of like the stuff on a glazed doughnut. Get it thick-but-pourable, mix it with cinnamon, and put a big puddle of it over grilled Texas toast. That's Jet cinnamon toast. And it is, if you're up for the sucrose, delicious.)
The rest of the day was largely unproductive in an academic sense. I did get a good amount of cleaning done, which was desirable and everything. And I did have some decent social time as I played Fluxx with Tim, Emily, and Allison (eventually Spanish Fluxx, even!).
Soon, though, I'm going to bed, even though it's fairly early. Cheerio!
...Oh, and happy Valentine's Day!
-Laurel
I found out from John and Chris, who were making lots of noise in their room and sounding excited. When I peeked in their room to say hello, they told me the news, which they'd learned via campus-wide e-mail. Then they went to wake up Erica and Lily Jo, just to tell them that they could go back to sleep. I came, too.
Having done that, we (John, Chris, and I) were too keyed up to go back to bed. So, before too long, we and Libby (John's girlfriend, if I haven't mentioned her before) decided to do something slightly unexpected: we bundled up, tromped through the 18-or-something inches of accumulated snow (walking down the middle of the only-half-plowed Park Street), and went to the Jet, the diner on Main Street ("Jet" is its shortened form; it's actually the "Collegiate").
It was actually open; we were kind of impressed (though it is the Ninoses, so perhaps we shouldn't have been). Shelly Ninos was the only one working (in part because another worker couldn't get her car out of her driveway), and there was only one other table's-worth of customers there besides us. So, figuring to make the most of it, we four sat down at the counter, which was a good vantage point from which to observe Shelly making our breakfasts (though by the time she took our orders, her husband had come in to help).
So we pretty much went for the sugar, except for Chris, who's apparently trying to cut his intake down: John and Libby got milkshakes, and I got cinnamon toast along with my egg-and-toast. (Note to non-Alfredians: Jet cinnamon toast is unlike any other cinnamon toast you've ever had. Think melty sugar icing, sort of like the stuff on a glazed doughnut. Get it thick-but-pourable, mix it with cinnamon, and put a big puddle of it over grilled Texas toast. That's Jet cinnamon toast. And it is, if you're up for the sucrose, delicious.)
The rest of the day was largely unproductive in an academic sense. I did get a good amount of cleaning done, which was desirable and everything. And I did have some decent social time as I played Fluxx with Tim, Emily, and Allison (eventually Spanish Fluxx, even!).
Soon, though, I'm going to bed, even though it's fairly early. Cheerio!
...Oh, and happy Valentine's Day!
-Laurel
2.11.2007
Do me a favor?
Pray, if it's at all your bent, that I will make good use of my time for the rest of the semester. 'Cause it's more important than ever, right now.
-Laurel
-Laurel
2.10.2007
A tidbit
I explained to John, this morning, the logical fallacy post hoc, ergo propter hoc. Loosely translated, the term means, "if a given event follows another, the first event must have caused the second." For example, if a girl dyes her hair red and wins a raffle that same day, post hoc would conclude that dyeing one's hair red causes one to win raffles. Since that kind of assumption is not always true (more obviously from my example than some others), it's considered a fallacy. It's pretty much the same thing that's drilled into every student studying statistics or psychology, correlation does not equal causation.
Anyway, John likes to throw terms back at people whenever possible. When, several minutes later, he came across another idea a very little bit like that, he tried to cite the fallacy. How did it end up tumbling out of his mouth, though? "Post ergo facto hoc hoc!"
-Laurel
Anyway, John likes to throw terms back at people whenever possible. When, several minutes later, he came across another idea a very little bit like that, he tried to cite the fallacy. How did it end up tumbling out of his mouth, though? "Post ergo facto hoc hoc!"
-Laurel
2.08.2007
"In this generation..."
Here's one reason, of many, why I love Joe, Andrea, and Erica: they do the things my friends and all I said in junior high that we'd do when we got a job...they give to people. When they get money they don't need, it goes straight back to God, in charity form. I'm sure they'd tell you that this isn't always the case, but it's the case with enough consistency to say it of them. And Erica's forever making friends with social misfits, brewing some friend or near-stranger some tea, or inviting someone to dinner.
Thank God I landed in such a place as this, with such a group as this.
-Laurel
Thank God I landed in such a place as this, with such a group as this.
-Laurel
Quick-Bits, the Latest
-John and I had a disagreement this morning: I implied that Wonder Bread was gross; he said it was even better than homemade bread. So tonight I made some white bread. He half-admitted he was wrong. A bunch'a people came over to help us eat it, which is good.
-I now own the soundtrack to Chronicles of Narnia (LWW). Yaaaaay!
-Speaking of things that cause happy noises to emanate from the upper reaches of my voice range: Kat put up, as her away message tonight, Gerard Manley Hopkins's "Pied Beauty."
'kay, guess that's enough for now, since it's bedtime.
-Laurel
-I now own the soundtrack to Chronicles of Narnia (LWW). Yaaaaay!
-Speaking of things that cause happy noises to emanate from the upper reaches of my voice range: Kat put up, as her away message tonight, Gerard Manley Hopkins's "Pied Beauty."
'kay, guess that's enough for now, since it's bedtime.
-Laurel
2.04.2007
The dance! and whatever-else.
I figured it was only a matter of time before Blogger made me switch over to their new Google-based version, but somehow I didn't think that it would be this soon. I don't like it yet, but hey.
Anyway, what I wanted to say was that last night was the InterVarsity dinner-dance, and it was spectacular. Seriously. Erik came down for it (I wonder how many IVers thought we were going out), which was great. We got ourselves looking nice, went up to the Lake Lodge at State (where it was, this year, instead of Rupert's--I liked this location even better, actually), had dinner (tasty, as usual), and danced like crazy.
Pretty much nobody in IV can truly dance, as we all simultaneously rediscovered (the days of IV/Swing Society crossover have apparently ended). This year, though, I didn't care what I looked like, so I danced practically the whole time. This was perhaps a wise move: finding that Tom wouldn't dance for anything but, like, the Electric Slide and that lot, Kaleb and TJ (freshmen, best friends, good guys, and funny) eventually accosted him as he came out of the bathroom, then manhandled him onto the dance floor. They tore, in the process, Tom's new dress shirt's sleeve (don't worry: the shirt was not valuable in any way--it had cost $4--except in Tom's own esteem). That was probably the most unusual moment of the dance. Andrew turning backflips across the floor was a big one, too.
After that, we went back to the house, where John and Jamie (L.) were playing Wii. Eventually, Erik and John started playing instead, and got into another ego battle, this time over video-game golf. John won by one stroke, which is not saying much, since I believe they finished +16 and +17 on a nine-hole course. They harrassed each other, gave each other manly hugs, and decided to get together next weekend for more video-game action. We'll see whether it truly comes to pass.
This morning Erik came to service with me. The guy speaking was Dr. Young, a funny, sprightly Irish dude who teaches psychology for Houghton College. His message (on judging/not judging) was very good, and Erik wants to come back the next time he speaks. Considering that I won't be there (since speakers typically only come once a semester), that could be funny, but I will get Erica or someone to tell me, and I'll pass it on to him.
The rest of today was jumbly. I watched John, Chris, and a girl named Nique play Wii. I played some myself (I like the baseball game, especially when I get to bat). I wrote a blank-verse sonnet for Tuesday's class. I watched parts of the Super Bowl with John, Jamie, and Simon (this was interesting), as well as playing a few hands of Fluxx with them. I concluded that cheap-Chinese-food egg drop soup must be among the least healthy foods on this planet. I nursed my cold with more of Erica's fancy-and-odd (but lovely-tasting and rather effective) cough drops. I shivered periodically, 'cause this house is really cold. I tested a couple of throw blankets for effect.
Now I'm going to go to bed, 'cause I have an 8:30 psychology class, of which I will probably spend a decent percentage wishing that Dr. Young was teaching.
-Laurel
Anyway, what I wanted to say was that last night was the InterVarsity dinner-dance, and it was spectacular. Seriously. Erik came down for it (I wonder how many IVers thought we were going out), which was great. We got ourselves looking nice, went up to the Lake Lodge at State (where it was, this year, instead of Rupert's--I liked this location even better, actually), had dinner (tasty, as usual), and danced like crazy.
Pretty much nobody in IV can truly dance, as we all simultaneously rediscovered (the days of IV/Swing Society crossover have apparently ended). This year, though, I didn't care what I looked like, so I danced practically the whole time. This was perhaps a wise move: finding that Tom wouldn't dance for anything but, like, the Electric Slide and that lot, Kaleb and TJ (freshmen, best friends, good guys, and funny) eventually accosted him as he came out of the bathroom, then manhandled him onto the dance floor. They tore, in the process, Tom's new dress shirt's sleeve (don't worry: the shirt was not valuable in any way--it had cost $4--except in Tom's own esteem). That was probably the most unusual moment of the dance. Andrew turning backflips across the floor was a big one, too.
After that, we went back to the house, where John and Jamie (L.) were playing Wii. Eventually, Erik and John started playing instead, and got into another ego battle, this time over video-game golf. John won by one stroke, which is not saying much, since I believe they finished +16 and +17 on a nine-hole course. They harrassed each other, gave each other manly hugs, and decided to get together next weekend for more video-game action. We'll see whether it truly comes to pass.
This morning Erik came to service with me. The guy speaking was Dr. Young, a funny, sprightly Irish dude who teaches psychology for Houghton College. His message (on judging/not judging) was very good, and Erik wants to come back the next time he speaks. Considering that I won't be there (since speakers typically only come once a semester), that could be funny, but I will get Erica or someone to tell me, and I'll pass it on to him.
The rest of today was jumbly. I watched John, Chris, and a girl named Nique play Wii. I played some myself (I like the baseball game, especially when I get to bat). I wrote a blank-verse sonnet for Tuesday's class. I watched parts of the Super Bowl with John, Jamie, and Simon (this was interesting), as well as playing a few hands of Fluxx with them. I concluded that cheap-Chinese-food egg drop soup must be among the least healthy foods on this planet. I nursed my cold with more of Erica's fancy-and-odd (but lovely-tasting and rather effective) cough drops. I shivered periodically, 'cause this house is really cold. I tested a couple of throw blankets for effect.
Now I'm going to go to bed, 'cause I have an 8:30 psychology class, of which I will probably spend a decent percentage wishing that Dr. Young was teaching.
-Laurel
2.01.2007
Correction and the Rest
So I learned, from my engineer roommate, what thermal shock is. It actually involves things breaking, so it wasn't right to say two entries ago that I'd thought my candy thermometer had experienced such shock, seeing as it's still in one piece and everything.
Anyway, it's now the end of Week Three of my last semester, which's cool, because I'd thought it might be the end of Week Four. So far my class descriptions still stand, except that this week's parenting-seminar class was a little frustrating (I'm not going to try again to describe why; I tried already with John, Erica, Joe, and Andrea, and didn't really get anywhere in any of those cases), so form-poetry is currently both the best overall class, hands down.
Not that I'm good at poetry-writing, mind you. My blank-verse narrative looked pretty good late on Monday night, before it was due. Now that I've listened to the five or six people that got workshopped (not everyone does for every poem; I ducked this round), I rather think otherwise. A pity, since a) I really wanted to write something good about FYE, and b) I'm a perfectionist and want to flinch now at what I've done. We're on to blank verse sonnets, so for Tuesday I'm hoping to do better, though under stricter conditions (only fourteen lines, including a volta somewhere, oh dang). We'll see.
Other classes go about as expected. Still behind on the Newberys. Still no word from Morehouse. Still have to apply to Binghamton; I've got two weeks.
I'd like to stay in Alfred between graduation and grad school, so I'm applying to be a summer RA. Lest you wonder whether this is a hypocritical idea, after I petitioned Res-Life last year about resident-assistant expectations, please note (as I did with a fair amount of relief) that this version runs entirely through the summer-programs office, and has different rules (well, the latter I expected). Again, we'll see what happens.
And now, an oldie from the Natalie Dee site:
After about two-and-a-half weeks of going back to my roots and being vigilant about salicylic acid, and getting pretty much no discernible result (my pores are still speckled black), I say true that.
-Laurel
Anyway, it's now the end of Week Three of my last semester, which's cool, because I'd thought it might be the end of Week Four. So far my class descriptions still stand, except that this week's parenting-seminar class was a little frustrating (I'm not going to try again to describe why; I tried already with John, Erica, Joe, and Andrea, and didn't really get anywhere in any of those cases), so form-poetry is currently both the best overall class, hands down.
Not that I'm good at poetry-writing, mind you. My blank-verse narrative looked pretty good late on Monday night, before it was due. Now that I've listened to the five or six people that got workshopped (not everyone does for every poem; I ducked this round), I rather think otherwise. A pity, since a) I really wanted to write something good about FYE, and b) I'm a perfectionist and want to flinch now at what I've done. We're on to blank verse sonnets, so for Tuesday I'm hoping to do better, though under stricter conditions (only fourteen lines, including a volta somewhere, oh dang). We'll see.
Other classes go about as expected. Still behind on the Newberys. Still no word from Morehouse. Still have to apply to Binghamton; I've got two weeks.
I'd like to stay in Alfred between graduation and grad school, so I'm applying to be a summer RA. Lest you wonder whether this is a hypocritical idea, after I petitioned Res-Life last year about resident-assistant expectations, please note (as I did with a fair amount of relief) that this version runs entirely through the summer-programs office, and has different rules (well, the latter I expected). Again, we'll see what happens.
And now, an oldie from the Natalie Dee site:
After about two-and-a-half weeks of going back to my roots and being vigilant about salicylic acid, and getting pretty much no discernible result (my pores are still speckled black), I say true that.
-Laurel