...but all of a sudden this became a Week of Hurriedness and Stress, and I'm kind of like, wait, I thought that was last week only. What happened?
So I'll have Text/Image crit on my birthday, but at least that means we don't have to be ready right on Monday.
I mean, it's not like I actually have a lot of classwork to do, is the thing. The last lab for psych became optional, the very final for Recent American became optional...it's just schedule-wise, trying to fit extracurriculars and the Text/Image madness together. Though I suppose it wouldn't kill me to drop out of one or two of the six different IV things going on between now and Tuesday, but...
This morning's question: Almost 20% of American children live in poverty, and it feels like the whole world is hungry or homeless or addicted to drugs, and I am going to do what with my unfathomably-privileged life?
Like, where is the world on all this stuff? To be fair, feeding one's own family can be tricky enough. But you've also got 18-year-old billionaires, via the NBA, more concerned with being the hottest on the team and getting to live out their fantasies, etc. etc., and who knows what they could do if they were more socially-minded? Fun is nice, but...
But I don't want to be rich, so perhaps it's as well I'm studying English, ha ha ha.
Okay, naptime.
-Laurel
4.22.2006
Wait until Chris sees this...
I'm Wintergreen!
Cool and refreshing, you're Wintergreen Altoids!
What flavor Altoid are you?
Kate and Evelyn and Mandie are super-cool to invite me on their adventures while they're on campus.
Also, I made the tie-dye shirts, and they came out well, but because of charity-carnival rules that apparently say that only official carnival-day shirts are allowed to be sold, I couldn't sell them. Even for the sake of the orphans, and even though, since there're only three of them and a pair of pants, they clearly do not pose a significant commercial threat. But hey.
Also, I spent a couple of hours practicing with Simon, John, and Theresa for our performance, only to find that all bands got cancelled 'cause'a the rain. John fanagled us some campus-radio space, but Simon wouldn't take it. Well, ::blows raspberry::.
Finally, this girl Casey who went here last year (she and I were friendly) and went back to community college instead appears to have randomly become friends with Jay Jei. I should probably tell him that she and I know each other. ...That may mean, by extension, that she also knows Jord, but I don't know.
Okay, dinnertime.
-Laurel
Cool and refreshing, you're Wintergreen Altoids!
What flavor Altoid are you?
Kate and Evelyn and Mandie are super-cool to invite me on their adventures while they're on campus.
Also, I made the tie-dye shirts, and they came out well, but because of charity-carnival rules that apparently say that only official carnival-day shirts are allowed to be sold, I couldn't sell them. Even for the sake of the orphans, and even though, since there're only three of them and a pair of pants, they clearly do not pose a significant commercial threat. But hey.
Also, I spent a couple of hours practicing with Simon, John, and Theresa for our performance, only to find that all bands got cancelled 'cause'a the rain. John fanagled us some campus-radio space, but Simon wouldn't take it. Well, ::blows raspberry::.
Finally, this girl Casey who went here last year (she and I were friendly) and went back to community college instead appears to have randomly become friends with Jay Jei. I should probably tell him that she and I know each other. ...That may mean, by extension, that she also knows Jord, but I don't know.
Okay, dinnertime.
-Laurel
4.20.2006
Peeling thoughts from the top of my head, much as one peels the "skin" off of chocolate pudding
-Seven-and-a-half hours illegally parked on campus and no ticket?! Whoa. ...Maybe it blew off in the wind. We'll soon find out.
-Being considered intelligent: very cool. Amazing dinners with family and friends: very cool. Both on the same night: even cooler.
-Relatedly: if you ever come across a dish offering apple stuffing, order it. It's like...apple pie without the crust, and a little less sugary, and usually on slices of pork. You have no idea how delicious it is.
-This has been, like, the least coherent day I've had in a really long darn time. The weird thing is, nobody seems to be noticing.
-My parents have fallen in love with a potential new house and have bid. We'll see what happens.
-If immune systems could call a toll-free number to report being abused, I would be typing this from jail. Still, I continue healthy. Don't ask me how.
-Non-graduat(ed/ing) campusites: GO TO THE RELAY FOR LIFE THIS FALL. Seriously.
Okay, time for bed. Yay for a class-free morning tomorrow!
-Laurel
-Being considered intelligent: very cool. Amazing dinners with family and friends: very cool. Both on the same night: even cooler.
-Relatedly: if you ever come across a dish offering apple stuffing, order it. It's like...apple pie without the crust, and a little less sugary, and usually on slices of pork. You have no idea how delicious it is.
-This has been, like, the least coherent day I've had in a really long darn time. The weird thing is, nobody seems to be noticing.
-My parents have fallen in love with a potential new house and have bid. We'll see what happens.
-If immune systems could call a toll-free number to report being abused, I would be typing this from jail. Still, I continue healthy. Don't ask me how.
-Non-graduat(ed/ing) campusites: GO TO THE RELAY FOR LIFE THIS FALL. Seriously.
Okay, time for bed. Yay for a class-free morning tomorrow!
-Laurel
4.16.2006
Easterness
Easter was okay. I kind of have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time, though. ...I mean, I didn't make any trouble or have any pinned on me, but I never seemed to be in the right spot.
Also, quick hand-count of people who think the following scenario is pretty darn shady on (here changing names to protect the innocent and the guilty) Rick's part and stupid on Jane's?
-Jane offers to proofread Rick's paper.
-Rick, figuring she's trying to waste time from her own work, tells her--deadly serious--that she may have that privilege if and only if she first cleans her room (which must be done sometime before the 22nd).
-Jane cleans her room for said "privilege."
Right. Time to go, then.
-Laurel
Also, quick hand-count of people who think the following scenario is pretty darn shady on (here changing names to protect the innocent and the guilty) Rick's part and stupid on Jane's?
-Jane offers to proofread Rick's paper.
-Rick, figuring she's trying to waste time from her own work, tells her--deadly serious--that she may have that privilege if and only if she first cleans her room (which must be done sometime before the 22nd).
-Jane cleans her room for said "privilege."
Right. Time to go, then.
-Laurel
4.13.2006
In the photo lab
I went to go see Kat and Dustin in the photo lab, just casually, but by the time I got there, Dustin was already gone. I spoke to Kat, though, mentioning thoughts about our group project, and she agreed.
"You want to see what I've got so far?" she asked.
"Sure," I said.
She took me over to a machine that exposed photo paper, where she had three test strips.
"I've never really been in a darkroom before, actually," I commented. "I've just kind of peered in."
"Really?" she asked, sounding genuinely excited, and proceeded to walk me through her black-and-white developing.
She turned a one-eighty from the machine to a long box-shape with table legs, much like the "sand table" in preschool, which held a series of white plastic bins. She tossed her test strips into the rightmost of these, which was filled with a clear, bleach-looking liquid (well, in the dim red light of the darkroom, all of the liquids looked like that), which she said was developer. She swirled them around with tongs, then tilted the bin itself back and forth. Every so often she glanced up at a round wall clock.
Not realizing that the test strips themselves would end up being small photos, after some seconds I looked closely--was I seeing things, or was some there some shape, ever so light, taking form on the paper? A few seconds more and it was unmistakeable; like a Polaroid, the three outlines came into form. The more time went on, the more substance they gained--I was looking at a side-on of Lynn, from our project, and the broad back and shoulders of Harry, her husband. Though I didn't realize it yet, they were actually three separate shots, each ever so subtly different.
Kat plucked out the three strips and tossed them into the next bin over, which looked identical to me, but I picked out the black Sharpie labeling, stop bath. This, as you may imagine, stops development. The small photos floated in that for--thirty seconds?--and then, I believe, were put into fixer, which kept light from further exposing the prints. After they were dipped and swished into plain water, I followed Kat out of the darkroom.
She pressed the wet prints up against something that looked a lot like a whiteboard, the kind of thing hanging on my door that people write messages on, and we looked at them. "Which one do you like the best?" she asked. I looked. I could see the differences, but they were so minute--I thought I liked one better, but...
She answered before I did. "I think this one's the best." She pointed to just the one I'd been looking at. "Yeah," I said. "I do, too."
We talked more about photography as she developed more. She actually only took Text and Image because it sounded interesting, not because she's committed to photography. She works in black-and-white film because that's all she knows how to do; she learned it sophomore year here. But she's in printmaking primarily, all kinds of prints--photo, tile, everything. To take color photography next year would be to commit credit space to something that, while practical enough, she doesn't see herself doing in any serious way.
"But," I said, surprised, "the stuff you've submitted for the projects, that stuff was just gorgeous."
I meant it; I was so shocked because, though I know I don't know photo well as a genre, privately I've considered Kat the best photographer in the class; I was thrilled to get her as one of my partners this time around. She didn't try to deny that her work for that class has been really good, but said that she doesn't consider herself a "photo person," just so into photography itself. "I'm really more casual," she said. "Not like Dustin--he's here for photo. He's such a good person for it."
And we talked about how different photography is from writing--imagine being able to set up the perfect photo in terms of lines and texture, only to have it rendered untakeable because the light is all wrong! Writing isn't like that at all; it's so much about head and heart that it's almost infinitely portable. Usually, you can write anywhere, under any condition, given only one of many writing implements, a decent surface for that implement, the right amount of concentration, and a modicum of physical health. You can't tell where an author was when he wrote or how many edits the text has gone through, but photos are location, and are largely a one-shot deal. I mean, you can take an infinite number of film rolls of the same basic shot, but each shot is one try; you can't rearrange them the way you rearrange words in paragraphs.
We talked about non-Text/Image things after that--mostly dance, 'cause I'm taking fundamentals, and she took it in the fall, and we both feel like uncoordinated geeks. Though I'm feeling less so these days, since I got an e-mail from Robert on Tuesday telling me that my dancing "continues to improve." I mean, it was the opening to a "please consider taking another dance course next semester," which I know is much less about any growing skill I may or may not possess, and much more about the departmental upper-levels being underenrolled. But it was addressed specifically to me, and was believable, since I guess I've slowly picked a few things up, and it helped a lot to know that I'm not as gosh-awful as I feel.
"There's just something magical about the [photo] process," Kat had said earlier, a sort of awed smile in her voice, and it stuck in my head after I'd thanked her and said goodbye and was walking back to my room. It's pretty true; I've learned so much about photography these ten-or-so weeks, and it's cool to see such a good student as Kat in wonder about it.
When I left the photo lab, the clouds had cleared enough for the disclike full moon to be shining, so brightly that, had the streetlamps gone out, maybe I still could have found my way home.
-Laurel
"You want to see what I've got so far?" she asked.
"Sure," I said.
She took me over to a machine that exposed photo paper, where she had three test strips.
"I've never really been in a darkroom before, actually," I commented. "I've just kind of peered in."
"Really?" she asked, sounding genuinely excited, and proceeded to walk me through her black-and-white developing.
She turned a one-eighty from the machine to a long box-shape with table legs, much like the "sand table" in preschool, which held a series of white plastic bins. She tossed her test strips into the rightmost of these, which was filled with a clear, bleach-looking liquid (well, in the dim red light of the darkroom, all of the liquids looked like that), which she said was developer. She swirled them around with tongs, then tilted the bin itself back and forth. Every so often she glanced up at a round wall clock.
Not realizing that the test strips themselves would end up being small photos, after some seconds I looked closely--was I seeing things, or was some there some shape, ever so light, taking form on the paper? A few seconds more and it was unmistakeable; like a Polaroid, the three outlines came into form. The more time went on, the more substance they gained--I was looking at a side-on of Lynn, from our project, and the broad back and shoulders of Harry, her husband. Though I didn't realize it yet, they were actually three separate shots, each ever so subtly different.
Kat plucked out the three strips and tossed them into the next bin over, which looked identical to me, but I picked out the black Sharpie labeling, stop bath. This, as you may imagine, stops development. The small photos floated in that for--thirty seconds?--and then, I believe, were put into fixer, which kept light from further exposing the prints. After they were dipped and swished into plain water, I followed Kat out of the darkroom.
She pressed the wet prints up against something that looked a lot like a whiteboard, the kind of thing hanging on my door that people write messages on, and we looked at them. "Which one do you like the best?" she asked. I looked. I could see the differences, but they were so minute--I thought I liked one better, but...
She answered before I did. "I think this one's the best." She pointed to just the one I'd been looking at. "Yeah," I said. "I do, too."
We talked more about photography as she developed more. She actually only took Text and Image because it sounded interesting, not because she's committed to photography. She works in black-and-white film because that's all she knows how to do; she learned it sophomore year here. But she's in printmaking primarily, all kinds of prints--photo, tile, everything. To take color photography next year would be to commit credit space to something that, while practical enough, she doesn't see herself doing in any serious way.
"But," I said, surprised, "the stuff you've submitted for the projects, that stuff was just gorgeous."
I meant it; I was so shocked because, though I know I don't know photo well as a genre, privately I've considered Kat the best photographer in the class; I was thrilled to get her as one of my partners this time around. She didn't try to deny that her work for that class has been really good, but said that she doesn't consider herself a "photo person," just so into photography itself. "I'm really more casual," she said. "Not like Dustin--he's here for photo. He's such a good person for it."
And we talked about how different photography is from writing--imagine being able to set up the perfect photo in terms of lines and texture, only to have it rendered untakeable because the light is all wrong! Writing isn't like that at all; it's so much about head and heart that it's almost infinitely portable. Usually, you can write anywhere, under any condition, given only one of many writing implements, a decent surface for that implement, the right amount of concentration, and a modicum of physical health. You can't tell where an author was when he wrote or how many edits the text has gone through, but photos are location, and are largely a one-shot deal. I mean, you can take an infinite number of film rolls of the same basic shot, but each shot is one try; you can't rearrange them the way you rearrange words in paragraphs.
We talked about non-Text/Image things after that--mostly dance, 'cause I'm taking fundamentals, and she took it in the fall, and we both feel like uncoordinated geeks. Though I'm feeling less so these days, since I got an e-mail from Robert on Tuesday telling me that my dancing "continues to improve." I mean, it was the opening to a "please consider taking another dance course next semester," which I know is much less about any growing skill I may or may not possess, and much more about the departmental upper-levels being underenrolled. But it was addressed specifically to me, and was believable, since I guess I've slowly picked a few things up, and it helped a lot to know that I'm not as gosh-awful as I feel.
"There's just something magical about the [photo] process," Kat had said earlier, a sort of awed smile in her voice, and it stuck in my head after I'd thanked her and said goodbye and was walking back to my room. It's pretty true; I've learned so much about photography these ten-or-so weeks, and it's cool to see such a good student as Kat in wonder about it.
When I left the photo lab, the clouds had cleared enough for the disclike full moon to be shining, so brightly that, had the streetlamps gone out, maybe I still could have found my way home.
-Laurel
Passover fun!
So chances are good that this blog will celebrate its fourth birthday (May 17th) before I reach the thousand-post mark, but this does make the 868th. Cool.
Anyway, I came on to post Passover humor that comes via the Dave Barry Blog. In the interest of clean humor for all, the following, quoted directly from said blog (all links are tested and clean):
*
April 12, 2006, 1:10 PM
ADVISORY
I am off to do what I imagine every son of a Presbyterian minister will be doing this afternoon: Making matzoh-ball soup.
Happy Passover, to those who celebrate it. And happy Wednesday to everyone else.
4:26 PM
SPEAKING OF VOLCANOES
If you happen to be making the traditional Passover Charoset, using the ancient Jewish method of putting the ingredients in a blender, be advised that if you remove the blender top to poke a piece of unblended apple down toward the blades, you may experience a violent eruption resulting in a good-sized glob of traditional Passover Charoset on the kitchen ceiling, and your wife will give you: The Look.
April 13, 2006, 1:19 PM
SEDER UPDATE
During the Seder last night, the phone rang. I answered it, and the person on the other end was -- I am not making this up -- Shadoe Stevens. He said: "I'm here with Ted, and I have to tell you, I'm not seeing that much of a mullet." [QPQ note: "Ted" is Ted Habte-Gabr, a friend of Dave's; the blog had a lengthy debate late last year over whether Ted has, or has not, a mullet.]
After I hung up, my wife said, "Who was that?" I said, "It was Shadoe Stevens. He says Ted doesn't have a mullet." If you think I got a Look for getting Charoset on the ceiling, you can imagine the Look I got for that phone call.
In other Seder news from last night: During the part where my wife, acting as Leader, was reading about the ten plagues that were visited upon Egypt, I looked down and saw, crawling across the floor, a Florida cockroach the size of a small dog. It was not one of the official plagues, so I stomped on it.
*
Gabe explained to me today what afikomen is, so the short version, thus: it's the smaller part of a broken piece of matzoh, and kids get to hold it for ransom. Gabe usually got money.
Okay, time to get stuff together for the mad rush of Text/Image crit followed immediately by dance class hotly pursued by the honors banquet. Meryl's going to attempt to curl my hair; knowing what my hair is usually like around anything wimpier than my mom's heavy-duty curlers, I wish her the best.
-Laurel
Anyway, I came on to post Passover humor that comes via the Dave Barry Blog. In the interest of clean humor for all, the following, quoted directly from said blog (all links are tested and clean):
*
April 12, 2006, 1:10 PM
ADVISORY
I am off to do what I imagine every son of a Presbyterian minister will be doing this afternoon: Making matzoh-ball soup.
Happy Passover, to those who celebrate it. And happy Wednesday to everyone else.
4:26 PM
SPEAKING OF VOLCANOES
If you happen to be making the traditional Passover Charoset, using the ancient Jewish method of putting the ingredients in a blender, be advised that if you remove the blender top to poke a piece of unblended apple down toward the blades, you may experience a violent eruption resulting in a good-sized glob of traditional Passover Charoset on the kitchen ceiling, and your wife will give you: The Look.
April 13, 2006, 1:19 PM
SEDER UPDATE
During the Seder last night, the phone rang. I answered it, and the person on the other end was -- I am not making this up -- Shadoe Stevens. He said: "I'm here with Ted, and I have to tell you, I'm not seeing that much of a mullet." [QPQ note: "Ted" is Ted Habte-Gabr, a friend of Dave's; the blog had a lengthy debate late last year over whether Ted has, or has not, a mullet.]
After I hung up, my wife said, "Who was that?" I said, "It was Shadoe Stevens. He says Ted doesn't have a mullet." If you think I got a Look for getting Charoset on the ceiling, you can imagine the Look I got for that phone call.
In other Seder news from last night: During the part where my wife, acting as Leader, was reading about the ten plagues that were visited upon Egypt, I looked down and saw, crawling across the floor, a Florida cockroach the size of a small dog. It was not one of the official plagues, so I stomped on it.
*
Gabe explained to me today what afikomen is, so the short version, thus: it's the smaller part of a broken piece of matzoh, and kids get to hold it for ransom. Gabe usually got money.
Okay, time to get stuff together for the mad rush of Text/Image crit followed immediately by dance class hotly pursued by the honors banquet. Meryl's going to attempt to curl my hair; knowing what my hair is usually like around anything wimpier than my mom's heavy-duty curlers, I wish her the best.
-Laurel
4.12.2006
aaaand back up.
It is spring, and it is lovely, and I have oak tree seeds growing in a cheery yellow planter, courtesy of Emily and Tom.
Know who I love? Richard Wilbur, that's who. Go look up his poems; they're amazing.
I have not, as you can see, overhauled my side-column. I have, however, redecorated my door here at school. Odd that, since my kindergarten days, I've had large, colorful blank spaces to fill with things that somehow represent me--I've decorated folders, notebooks, my door at home, my door here. Making public identity statements, really. Next year will be the last year I'll get to do such things in the same way; one doesn't tape poetry on apartment doors, and I won't have five-subject notebooks to carry around. I'll have to do it on my refrigerator instead or something. Huh.
-Laurel
Know who I love? Richard Wilbur, that's who. Go look up his poems; they're amazing.
I have not, as you can see, overhauled my side-column. I have, however, redecorated my door here at school. Odd that, since my kindergarten days, I've had large, colorful blank spaces to fill with things that somehow represent me--I've decorated folders, notebooks, my door at home, my door here. Making public identity statements, really. Next year will be the last year I'll get to do such things in the same way; one doesn't tape poetry on apartment doors, and I won't have five-subject notebooks to carry around. I'll have to do it on my refrigerator instead or something. Huh.
-Laurel
4.10.2006
Relatedly...
...um, so I signed myself up for a campus-job interview tomorrow at 3:30, apparently blissfully unaware that I've had this 3:20 class on Tuesday afternoons all semester, the one I've been going to except for that day I was really sick...
Also, for anyone who's ever sunk six consecutive hours into The Sims:
http://www.toothpastefordinner.com/041006/how-does-anyone-play-this-game.gif
Except that I never set myself on fire. I only had a character die once, by accident, and somehow the game didn't get saved. Maybe on purpose.
Okay, it is definitely time for bed.
-Laurel
Also, for anyone who's ever sunk six consecutive hours into The Sims:
http://www.toothpastefordinner.com/041006/how-does-anyone-play-this-game.gif
Except that I never set myself on fire. I only had a character die once, by accident, and somehow the game didn't get saved. Maybe on purpose.
Okay, it is definitely time for bed.
-Laurel
On Text and Image, and my potential repeated utter doom
Auuuuuggghhhhhhhh!
On the other hand, my essay for Ironweed turned out passably enough. And I even managed to get seven hours of sleep, which was as much as Jill, Stephen, and Dave (from that class) got combined.
-Laurel
On the other hand, my essay for Ironweed turned out passably enough. And I even managed to get seven hours of sleep, which was as much as Jill, Stephen, and Dave (from that class) got combined.
-Laurel
4.09.2006
So how come tie-dying was twice as messy in my own dorm as in Emily's?
Highlights of my eventful weekend:
Friday evening: pancake outing. Thirty-three people (maybe thirty-four) showed up. Michael took most of them in his convoy; I ended up only bringing my own car and Andrea's. She and I and our passengers left late after waiting for stragglers (of which, it turns out, there were none), and arrived almost half an hour later. Everyone else was eating already, but that was fine, and the seven of us had a nice (and amusing) meal at one biggish table. I didn't find out who'd really eaten the most pancakes, but Erica had gotten up to eleven--for someone so skinny, that is darn good. I didn't participate, but would've gotten creamed if I had.
Friday night: girls' night. Went back to the dorm after SonLife, thinking I had to get to bed, so as to be up early enough on Saturday morning to go home for a family thing, but my mom had called and it turned out that I could stay here (eh, long story). So I drove over to Peter and Janet's house (they're IV staff) and joined up with the "girls' night" that Andrea had organized. It was girly but fun. Yes, I am sporting nailpolish on all typically-applicable surfaces. Yes, I did watch chick flicks (apparently I'm a bigger sucker for Julia Stiles than I thought). Yes, Lisa took pictures of Amy and me that could be classified as blackmail. The IV year-end slide show will certainly be interesting.
Sunday afternoon: Did the second wave (there'll eventually be four) of tie-dying for IV's charity auction (can you tell that my life is pretty much English classes, IV, and folk dancing these days? I have to say, I love it...). This one didn't actually go as well as the last, and part of the cement between various laundry room floor tiles is now stained forest green (hoping here that Jess the Really Nice Cleaning Lady doesn't hate me for it), because I had a sort of minor dyeing accident. But the dyed articles themselves turned out well enough.
Potential highlights of the coming week: Easter-egg dyeing tomorrow night, honors banquet Thursday night. Potential moment of doom: just checked my calendar and found the Text/Image third project rough draft crit Wednesday whaaaaat?!
Note to self: tomorrow, talk to Susan. Seriously. 'Cause having a rough draft by Wednesday would be a good idea.
Also, I smell a Quid Pro Quo side-column overhaul coming on. Check back in a few days. Or maybe later tonight; I don't know.
-Laurel
Friday evening: pancake outing. Thirty-three people (maybe thirty-four) showed up. Michael took most of them in his convoy; I ended up only bringing my own car and Andrea's. She and I and our passengers left late after waiting for stragglers (of which, it turns out, there were none), and arrived almost half an hour later. Everyone else was eating already, but that was fine, and the seven of us had a nice (and amusing) meal at one biggish table. I didn't find out who'd really eaten the most pancakes, but Erica had gotten up to eleven--for someone so skinny, that is darn good. I didn't participate, but would've gotten creamed if I had.
Friday night: girls' night. Went back to the dorm after SonLife, thinking I had to get to bed, so as to be up early enough on Saturday morning to go home for a family thing, but my mom had called and it turned out that I could stay here (eh, long story). So I drove over to Peter and Janet's house (they're IV staff) and joined up with the "girls' night" that Andrea had organized. It was girly but fun. Yes, I am sporting nailpolish on all typically-applicable surfaces. Yes, I did watch chick flicks (apparently I'm a bigger sucker for Julia Stiles than I thought). Yes, Lisa took pictures of Amy and me that could be classified as blackmail. The IV year-end slide show will certainly be interesting.
Sunday afternoon: Did the second wave (there'll eventually be four) of tie-dying for IV's charity auction (can you tell that my life is pretty much English classes, IV, and folk dancing these days? I have to say, I love it...). This one didn't actually go as well as the last, and part of the cement between various laundry room floor tiles is now stained forest green (hoping here that Jess the Really Nice Cleaning Lady doesn't hate me for it), because I had a sort of minor dyeing accident. But the dyed articles themselves turned out well enough.
Potential highlights of the coming week: Easter-egg dyeing tomorrow night, honors banquet Thursday night. Potential moment of doom: just checked my calendar and found the Text/Image third project rough draft crit Wednesday whaaaaat?!
Note to self: tomorrow, talk to Susan. Seriously. 'Cause having a rough draft by Wednesday would be a good idea.
Also, I smell a Quid Pro Quo side-column overhaul coming on. Check back in a few days. Or maybe later tonight; I don't know.
-Laurel
4.07.2006
Aw, ruddy crud, come on.
Okay, I defended the "Happy Holidays" thing, but these are ridiculous, particularly the second one.
this'n
this other'n
That's my only complaint for today. 30 people coming to the IV pancake thing: so amazing to see, so frightening to organize. ::giggles::
-Laurel
this'n
this other'n
That's my only complaint for today. 30 people coming to the IV pancake thing: so amazing to see, so frightening to organize. ::giggles::
-Laurel
Clarification
When I say "sailing ship full of people," I do not mean to imply that Tim is attempting to join the Navy. Actually, he's applying for Sea Semester for this summer, where basically he gets to learn everything about sailing a ship. Which means that sometimes he'll be trusted with things like steering, and sometimes he'll be trusted with, I don't know, something else important like that.
It does sound very cool, and I'm not actually afraid of him killing anyone or accidentally steering the ship to the Antarctic. Still, anyone who is at heart under the age of four...
...haha, d'you know what this reminds me of all of a sudden, home friends? Mr. B.
::laughs:: Wow. Suddenly that puts it into perspective. B helps raise his three kids, and saves lives via the fire department, with astounding success, considering his complete insanity (remember him breaking his...wrist?) and general penchant for putting his life knowingly or unknowingly into danger.
Oh my gosh, I'd completely forgotten about Little Karl. Wonder how he's growing up B.
Anyway, time for breakfast, 'cause Emily just called (I'm three minutes late, so she thinks I've slept in!).
-Laurel
It does sound very cool, and I'm not actually afraid of him killing anyone or accidentally steering the ship to the Antarctic. Still, anyone who is at heart under the age of four...
...haha, d'you know what this reminds me of all of a sudden, home friends? Mr. B.
::laughs:: Wow. Suddenly that puts it into perspective. B helps raise his three kids, and saves lives via the fire department, with astounding success, considering his complete insanity (remember him breaking his...wrist?) and general penchant for putting his life knowingly or unknowingly into danger.
Oh my gosh, I'd completely forgotten about Little Karl. Wonder how he's growing up B.
Anyway, time for breakfast, 'cause Emily just called (I'm three minutes late, so she thinks I've slept in!).
-Laurel
4.05.2006
That's your randomness for today-y-y, -ay-ay-ay-ay-ay...
Um, so this has got to be the geekiest link since the Lorem Ipsum thing (see post, "Vah! Denuone Latine loguebar?"). Which is to say, I like it, but it's weird.
On another note, can I see hands for people who think that my boyfriend, who once unthinkingly stuck a fork in a string of Christmas lights, should not potentially be trusted this summer with the lives of a sailing ship full of people? :-P
-Laurel
On another note, can I see hands for people who think that my boyfriend, who once unthinkingly stuck a fork in a string of Christmas lights, should not potentially be trusted this summer with the lives of a sailing ship full of people? :-P
-Laurel
4.04.2006
Not so much normal, I'd say.
Got this forward from my dad today:
On Wednesday of this week, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 in
the morning, the time and date will be: 01:02:03 04/05/06.
That won't ever happen again.
You may now return to your (normal?) life.
Also, for school friends' consideration: I've been thinking for a while about what Jeff said on the way to Montreal for Quiz Bowl, that most of the faculty here thinks of Otto the way we think of Ian Adkins. Like, less in the sense of all of Ian's Gnostic stuff being seen as weird, but more like when he wrote the total-crackpot letter to the editor (the only time I've ever rooted for the school paper, to be sure). Well, Jeff says (whether from his own eyes or just being told, I don't know) that Otto picks a lot of faults in policies without ever serving on any committees or doing anything else to help out the school (well, outside of folk dancing and honors seminars), or something like that. And anyone trying to persuade students that the environment is perhaps not as bad as much of the rest of the science department makes it out to be is, clearly, going to come up against some annoyance.
Predictably, I'm inclined to say that, if what Jeff says is true, Otto's probably getting slammed simply for being too apathetic about politics to get into them. But I think Jeff's point was not that Otto is a crackpot, but that Ian is less of one than you might expect. It's made me think, anyway, and try not to automatically be like, oh ruddy crud here we go every time Ian opens his mouth in, say, Senate. Many times what he says, on further inspection, is worth that--but sometimes it isn't. Which I suppose I'd do well to remember.
So, in conclusion: life is complicated and weird, and I'm going to class.
On Wednesday of this week, at two minutes and three seconds after 1:00 in
the morning, the time and date will be: 01:02:03 04/05/06.
That won't ever happen again.
You may now return to your (normal?) life.
Also, for school friends' consideration: I've been thinking for a while about what Jeff said on the way to Montreal for Quiz Bowl, that most of the faculty here thinks of Otto the way we think of Ian Adkins. Like, less in the sense of all of Ian's Gnostic stuff being seen as weird, but more like when he wrote the total-crackpot letter to the editor (the only time I've ever rooted for the school paper, to be sure). Well, Jeff says (whether from his own eyes or just being told, I don't know) that Otto picks a lot of faults in policies without ever serving on any committees or doing anything else to help out the school (well, outside of folk dancing and honors seminars), or something like that. And anyone trying to persuade students that the environment is perhaps not as bad as much of the rest of the science department makes it out to be is, clearly, going to come up against some annoyance.
Predictably, I'm inclined to say that, if what Jeff says is true, Otto's probably getting slammed simply for being too apathetic about politics to get into them. But I think Jeff's point was not that Otto is a crackpot, but that Ian is less of one than you might expect. It's made me think, anyway, and try not to automatically be like, oh ruddy crud here we go every time Ian opens his mouth in, say, Senate. Many times what he says, on further inspection, is worth that--but sometimes it isn't. Which I suppose I'd do well to remember.
So, in conclusion: life is complicated and weird, and I'm going to class.
4.03.2006
So, about that essay from this morning.
Would you call it a blessing rained down from heaven if I told you that, after begging God repeatedly this morning for more time--I'd tried to do everything right this weekend, but my essay time was still quickly running out and all my ideas hitting a wall--I discovered at eight this morning that my syllabus was wrong, and the three pages aren't due for another week? ...Or would you simply call me a poor sucker for being the last one to figure it out, since the other assignment paper had the correct date?
Think what you will, but it did happen like that. May I not squander my extra week, busy though it'll already be.
-Laurel
Think what you will, but it did happen like that. May I not squander my extra week, busy though it'll already be.
-Laurel
Well, huh.
So karate eliminated its morning class and switched its evening one to Monday-Wednesday, and I didn't figure it out until I tried to sign up. Not that I had anything going on anyway, but Mondays and Wednesdays are going to smack me around now next semester; I will have, on those days, every class for which I'm signed up. That happened to me just on Wednesdays during spring semester sophomore year, and even that wasn't much of a picnic. But, for the first time in my college career, I will get Thursdays off completely.
If somebody would run a Bible study on Thursdays again, then, so that I don't have to miss any of folk dancing (not that it would be a tragedy, but still), I would love them to pieces.
Also, if anyone has any idea what the novel Ironweed, by William Kennedy, is about, could you let me know before about 10:30 this morning, so I can have my essay written by 1:20? Thanks.
-Laurel
If somebody would run a Bible study on Thursdays again, then, so that I don't have to miss any of folk dancing (not that it would be a tragedy, but still), I would love them to pieces.
Also, if anyone has any idea what the novel Ironweed, by William Kennedy, is about, could you let me know before about 10:30 this morning, so I can have my essay written by 1:20? Thanks.
-Laurel