Currently in Stage 2 of The Cold. I get The Cold a few times every year. I'm convinced it's the exact same virus, because I've actually tracked the stages, and they have nearly identical symptoms every time. Stage 2 is a throat that aches whenever I swallow, but that still feels moist (no dry cough or anything).
I hate Stage 2.
I also hate trying to finish a paper during Stage 2.
I also hate that it's my friend's birthday celebration tonight, and I'm left with only two options:
a) Go, but go as a shadow of my normal self. Sit in corner silently whining about sore throat and be miserable.
b) Stay in bed, read/sleep/watch a movie and be way more comfortable, but still miserable.
The Cold strikes again.
Friday, February 25, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Capital, Capital
Today was the Rally to Restore Affordability at the Minnesota State Capitol Building in St. Paul.
It was a long bus ride
But worth it to see this
And this (inside of the Capitol Building)
We went exploring in the bowels of the Capitol and found...
Jesse Ventura!!
Look at all that green! (Those were our UMM shirts-we had 99 people come, which is way more people than any of the other (bigger) U of MN campuses had)
Later on came the speakers. Here's Governor Mark Dayton (who I was within a few feet of)
And our very own Josh Preston (who blew all the other speakers out of the water)
I tried out the benches around the Rotunda (not so comfortable)
Me and the capital Capitol
It was a long bus ride
But worth it to see this
And this (inside of the Capitol Building)
We went exploring in the bowels of the Capitol and found...
Jesse Ventura!!
Look at all that green! (Those were our UMM shirts-we had 99 people come, which is way more people than any of the other (bigger) U of MN campuses had)
Later on came the speakers. Here's Governor Mark Dayton (who I was within a few feet of)
And our very own Josh Preston (who blew all the other speakers out of the water)
I tried out the benches around the Rotunda (not so comfortable)
Me and the capital Capitol
Monday, February 21, 2011
Weekend Hints
Here are a couple of hints as to what I did with the rest of my weekend. Also, please forgive any poor photography. I apparently need to delve a little deeper into a certain new camera manual:
Any guesses?
Okay.
1. Mad and I rearranged our room, which not only helped in the I-have-a-six-page-paper-to-write-but-i-don't-wanna department, but also turned up a few surprises:
Like my Vaseline, which I've been searching for ever since the hand-drying, knuckle-splitting wind arrived in Morris this winter. Grossed out by the dust/hair/crumb combo surrounding the jar? So was I. We swept the floor when we were finished moving, I promise.
2. It snowed. And snowed. And kept snowing (actually it's still going). If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say that we've gotten a good 14 inches since yesterday morning. With so much snow in such a short period of time, you would expect school to be closed. All the other U of MN campuses were. But not Morris. Apparently we're made of stronger stuff out here (or at least the higher-ups are, because I certainly wasn't keen on getting up for my 9:15).
3. I scraped a good hunk of skin off my second finger this morning. Still half asleep, I flung my arm out and it hit our popcorn-studded wall. Too tired to even look at the injury, I simply let my hand dangle out of the covers where it wouldn't bloody any sheets, and continued to doze. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time the wall and my hand have come to blows.
Any guesses?
Okay.
1. Mad and I rearranged our room, which not only helped in the I-have-a-six-page-paper-to-write-but-i-don't-wanna department, but also turned up a few surprises:
Like my Vaseline, which I've been searching for ever since the hand-drying, knuckle-splitting wind arrived in Morris this winter. Grossed out by the dust/hair/crumb combo surrounding the jar? So was I. We swept the floor when we were finished moving, I promise.
2. It snowed. And snowed. And kept snowing (actually it's still going). If I had to hazard a guess, I'd say that we've gotten a good 14 inches since yesterday morning. With so much snow in such a short period of time, you would expect school to be closed. All the other U of MN campuses were. But not Morris. Apparently we're made of stronger stuff out here (or at least the higher-ups are, because I certainly wasn't keen on getting up for my 9:15).
3. I scraped a good hunk of skin off my second finger this morning. Still half asleep, I flung my arm out and it hit our popcorn-studded wall. Too tired to even look at the injury, I simply let my hand dangle out of the covers where it wouldn't bloody any sheets, and continued to doze. Unfortunately, this isn't the first time the wall and my hand have come to blows.
Sunday, February 20, 2011
A Prairie Home Companion
I bought my ticket to A Prairie Home Companion (recording live from University of Minnesota, Morris) months ago, practically the instant tickets were available. Despite this, when an email was sent out to all UMM students calling for volunteers to usher at the show, I jumped on that as well. Ushers got a free ticket, which made my previous purchase unnecessary, but I couldn't help but hope that as an usher who would be in the gym hours early, I would get a chance to meet Garrison Keillor himself.
So on Saturday I sold my ticket to my friend Aaron at half price, pulled on my dorky UMM polo, grabbed my camera, and marched over to the PE center.
Upon arriving, I was first of all surprised at how many ushers there were. There were roughly 30 people (faculty, staff, and students alike) congregated in the main lobby of the RFC. Right off the bat we were given flashlights to shake up (go green), lanyards with ID badges, and emergency briefings to read.
Then a man who was part of the PHC crew, came over to talk to us about expectations. Overall, I was impressed by how laid back the show was going to be. Obviously it's live, so babies couldn't be screaming and bleachers couldn't be squeaking during the quieter parts of the show, but other than that, it seemed like almost anything was okay. People could come and go as they pleased (except during aforementioned quiet parts), food and drink were perfectly fine, as were photography and recording (minus flash). As the man put it (although I admit I found this part to be kind of presumptuous): "The people who come to see the show think that Garrison is their friend, and that they've been invited tonight by him specifically. As such, his audience members need to be treated with respect and sensitivity."
After someone else gave us the lowdown on what to do in case of an emergency, Wendy (one of the organizers) began listing off different usher positions and asking for a certain number of people to cover each position. I held off for a long time before volunteering, wanting to be down on the floor (as close to the stage as possible). When Wendy came to the reserved handicapped section, and asked for two volunteers to accommodate people there, my hand shot up. That section just had to be up front, right?
Turns out it wasn't. It was on the floor instead of up on the bleachers, sure, but it was in the very back left corner of the floor seating. Fortunately, I forgot to be disappointed, because as soon as I walked out into the gym, I realized that Garrison and the rest of the actors and musicians were already there warming up.
Imagine walking into a gym and hearing Garrison Keillor's voice and realizing that you're not listening to a radio someone had left on, that instead, the man himself is on the stage in jeans and bright red tennis shoes, and that the rest of the voices you've grown up hearing on long car rides back from the cabin are standing there beside him.
Once I got over being starstruck (it took me a few minutes, admittedly), I began marveling at the stage itself. It was set up in front of the other set of bleachers, and evidently the PHC people travelled with a semi truck, because they had brought with them 4 huge bars laden with stage lights, the stage itself, frames hung with black velvet curtains that served as "the wings," a huge piece of scenery made to look like a house (with awning and porch light and windows and everything), plus of course all the equipment, instruments, etc.
Since the volunteers had been asked to show up a good 2 hours before the general public was let in, we got to stand around and listen to the actors and musicians (and our UMM Concert Choir, which was featured on the show) warm up. I tried not to listen too hard, because I wanted to be interested enough to watch the real show later.
When 3:30 rolled around and the doors opened, people began to flood in. My job was to: a) point them to general admission seating b) point them to VIP seating c) point them to handicapped seating d) gently tell them that having a child in the choir does not guarantee front row seating e) point them to the restrooms f) point them to concessions g) reassure them that they would be able to get back in after using the restrooms or buying concessions h) give them extra programs.
Then at 5 the live show actually began and I got to sit down and enjoy it. I won't describe the entire synopsis, I'll only say that it was fantastic, and that I was pleasantly surprised by how much the PHC people emphasized Morris in the show. They had the choir perform (as I've said), they set many of the skits in Morris, they interviewed Matt (a Morris student on MCSA with me) about the campus, and they even sang a few songs about the town.
Here are some pictures from the show. I know they're slightly horrible, but as I've said, I've been struggling to figure out my new camera. Besides, it was dark and flashes weren't allowed.
Did I get to meet Garrison and the Gang after all that? Nope. They had to hurry out of town after the show in order to beat the snow (rhyme not intended).
So on Saturday I sold my ticket to my friend Aaron at half price, pulled on my dorky UMM polo, grabbed my camera, and marched over to the PE center.
Upon arriving, I was first of all surprised at how many ushers there were. There were roughly 30 people (faculty, staff, and students alike) congregated in the main lobby of the RFC. Right off the bat we were given flashlights to shake up (go green), lanyards with ID badges, and emergency briefings to read.
Then a man who was part of the PHC crew, came over to talk to us about expectations. Overall, I was impressed by how laid back the show was going to be. Obviously it's live, so babies couldn't be screaming and bleachers couldn't be squeaking during the quieter parts of the show, but other than that, it seemed like almost anything was okay. People could come and go as they pleased (except during aforementioned quiet parts), food and drink were perfectly fine, as were photography and recording (minus flash). As the man put it (although I admit I found this part to be kind of presumptuous): "The people who come to see the show think that Garrison is their friend, and that they've been invited tonight by him specifically. As such, his audience members need to be treated with respect and sensitivity."
After someone else gave us the lowdown on what to do in case of an emergency, Wendy (one of the organizers) began listing off different usher positions and asking for a certain number of people to cover each position. I held off for a long time before volunteering, wanting to be down on the floor (as close to the stage as possible). When Wendy came to the reserved handicapped section, and asked for two volunteers to accommodate people there, my hand shot up. That section just had to be up front, right?
Turns out it wasn't. It was on the floor instead of up on the bleachers, sure, but it was in the very back left corner of the floor seating. Fortunately, I forgot to be disappointed, because as soon as I walked out into the gym, I realized that Garrison and the rest of the actors and musicians were already there warming up.
Imagine walking into a gym and hearing Garrison Keillor's voice and realizing that you're not listening to a radio someone had left on, that instead, the man himself is on the stage in jeans and bright red tennis shoes, and that the rest of the voices you've grown up hearing on long car rides back from the cabin are standing there beside him.
Once I got over being starstruck (it took me a few minutes, admittedly), I began marveling at the stage itself. It was set up in front of the other set of bleachers, and evidently the PHC people travelled with a semi truck, because they had brought with them 4 huge bars laden with stage lights, the stage itself, frames hung with black velvet curtains that served as "the wings," a huge piece of scenery made to look like a house (with awning and porch light and windows and everything), plus of course all the equipment, instruments, etc.
Since the volunteers had been asked to show up a good 2 hours before the general public was let in, we got to stand around and listen to the actors and musicians (and our UMM Concert Choir, which was featured on the show) warm up. I tried not to listen too hard, because I wanted to be interested enough to watch the real show later.
When 3:30 rolled around and the doors opened, people began to flood in. My job was to: a) point them to general admission seating b) point them to VIP seating c) point them to handicapped seating d) gently tell them that having a child in the choir does not guarantee front row seating e) point them to the restrooms f) point them to concessions g) reassure them that they would be able to get back in after using the restrooms or buying concessions h) give them extra programs.
Then at 5 the live show actually began and I got to sit down and enjoy it. I won't describe the entire synopsis, I'll only say that it was fantastic, and that I was pleasantly surprised by how much the PHC people emphasized Morris in the show. They had the choir perform (as I've said), they set many of the skits in Morris, they interviewed Matt (a Morris student on MCSA with me) about the campus, and they even sang a few songs about the town.
Here are some pictures from the show. I know they're slightly horrible, but as I've said, I've been struggling to figure out my new camera. Besides, it was dark and flashes weren't allowed.
Did I get to meet Garrison and the Gang after all that? Nope. They had to hurry out of town after the show in order to beat the snow (rhyme not intended).
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Classes That Ruin Classics
Another thing: Did you know that I've read the book Little Women once a year every year since I was in 3rd grade? That's right. I've read it roughly 11 times.
This time around, however, American Literature is slowly ruining it for me. Gosh darn it Civil War Era literary theories! Darn you all! I'll never read my darling Little Women in peace again.
This time around, however, American Literature is slowly ruining it for me. Gosh darn it Civil War Era literary theories! Darn you all! I'll never read my darling Little Women in peace again.
Speech Revisited
I was tabling for the Rally to Restore Affordability today, when Josh, who heads the committee responsible for organizing the event, asked me to give a speech at the Rally Before the Rally tonight.
Before I continue, here's some vocabulary for you:
Rally to Restore Affordability-An annual event that takes place at the MN Capital. Students from all U of MNs are bused in, and get a chance to not only listen to speeches given by their state congressmen and senators, but to actually speak to their legislators one on one. The goal is to let the Minnesota government know that U of MN students will not stand for budget cuts (which lead to higher tuition, cut programs, etc.).
Rally Before the Rally-Took place in Turtle Mountain Cafe at 6 p.m. tonight. The idea was to convince students (by informing them and prompting discussion about why we love UMM) to attend the Rally to Restore Affordability.
Anyway...
You remember that I was in Speech, right? And that I went to State my senior year? (I'm not bragging, I promise. These are informational points.)
Well let me just say that part of the reason I loved Speech (and did fairly well in it) was because I could PREPARE. I had time to research, to write, to memorize.
I am not a good impromptu speaker at all. Never have been, never will be.
So when Josh asked me if I would give a speech in 4 hours, when I realized that that entire 4 hours was already filled with class and work, I became very, very nervous. Luckily the Writing Room was slow enough that I had time to write some notes down, and even to practice a little bit.
Still, though, when I walked up to that podium I was shaking in my shoes. I started off, characteristically, by squeaking the microphone so loudly that everyone in the room screamed. Then I actually started to speak. I talked, firstly, about the basics of The Rally to Restore Affordability. The date, time, what it is, etc. Next, I decided to share my own experiences with the event. I talked about last year, when the event was cancelled because of a snowstorm, and I was secretly relieved because I was scared to death to meet my legislators. I talked about how I didn't feel that I, an ill-informed, hardly political English Major would have anything to say to them. Then I talked about this year, and how I've realized that The Rally is not about politics. The Rally is about students fighting for their U of MN experience. It's about us sharing with our legislators the things we value about our education, and asking them not to take those things away from us through budget cuts. It's not only our right to hold this Rally, it's our responsibility.
When I finished, I walked back to my seat and sat down to listen to the Chancellor.
After she finished speaking, I got with a group of strangers and we discussed the reasons why we had chosen to come to UMM.
After that, I helped to tear down posters, and move tables back into place.
After that, the Chancellor of UMM (whom I've never met, but have always admired), came up to me and said that I had done a wonderful job with my speech, and that I was a great speaker. After that, Josh told me that I had wiped the floor with them (which I translated to mean good job). After that, Mike (president of MCSA) complimented me as well.
After that, I walked back to my dorm smiling.
Before I continue, here's some vocabulary for you:
Rally to Restore Affordability-An annual event that takes place at the MN Capital. Students from all U of MNs are bused in, and get a chance to not only listen to speeches given by their state congressmen and senators, but to actually speak to their legislators one on one. The goal is to let the Minnesota government know that U of MN students will not stand for budget cuts (which lead to higher tuition, cut programs, etc.).
Rally Before the Rally-Took place in Turtle Mountain Cafe at 6 p.m. tonight. The idea was to convince students (by informing them and prompting discussion about why we love UMM) to attend the Rally to Restore Affordability.
Anyway...
You remember that I was in Speech, right? And that I went to State my senior year? (I'm not bragging, I promise. These are informational points.)
Well let me just say that part of the reason I loved Speech (and did fairly well in it) was because I could PREPARE. I had time to research, to write, to memorize.
I am not a good impromptu speaker at all. Never have been, never will be.
So when Josh asked me if I would give a speech in 4 hours, when I realized that that entire 4 hours was already filled with class and work, I became very, very nervous. Luckily the Writing Room was slow enough that I had time to write some notes down, and even to practice a little bit.
Still, though, when I walked up to that podium I was shaking in my shoes. I started off, characteristically, by squeaking the microphone so loudly that everyone in the room screamed. Then I actually started to speak. I talked, firstly, about the basics of The Rally to Restore Affordability. The date, time, what it is, etc. Next, I decided to share my own experiences with the event. I talked about last year, when the event was cancelled because of a snowstorm, and I was secretly relieved because I was scared to death to meet my legislators. I talked about how I didn't feel that I, an ill-informed, hardly political English Major would have anything to say to them. Then I talked about this year, and how I've realized that The Rally is not about politics. The Rally is about students fighting for their U of MN experience. It's about us sharing with our legislators the things we value about our education, and asking them not to take those things away from us through budget cuts. It's not only our right to hold this Rally, it's our responsibility.
When I finished, I walked back to my seat and sat down to listen to the Chancellor.
After she finished speaking, I got with a group of strangers and we discussed the reasons why we had chosen to come to UMM.
After that, I helped to tear down posters, and move tables back into place.
After that, the Chancellor of UMM (whom I've never met, but have always admired), came up to me and said that I had done a wonderful job with my speech, and that I was a great speaker. After that, Josh told me that I had wiped the floor with them (which I translated to mean good job). After that, Mike (president of MCSA) complimented me as well.
After that, I walked back to my dorm smiling.
Monday, February 14, 2011
I Carry Your Heart With Me
A few things I've done today:
1. Took a German test (horrific. I was so tired last night, and the Nyquil was kicking in, and I just stopped caring about dative verbs. It happens, although I certainly hope I get my act together for the next test)
2. Walked to Subway with my roommate for dinner. The girl behind the counter was quite chatty: "You know Andrea broke up with her boyfriend of 2 months and she called in to say she couldn't work. When I broke up with my boyfriend of 2 and a half years I worked every single day!"
Can I just have my Italian BMT please?
3. Played intramural volleyball. We had an off night, which was really okay. The not so okay part was two members of our team being poor sports and huffing off the court afterwards like they wanted nothing to do with the rest of us. If there's anything I've learned playing sports, it's that any loss (or win) is a culmination of events. Bad serves, missed blocks, out-of-bounds spikes, etc. It's incredibly unfortunate when people choose to point fingers and dwell on individual plays.
4. Went to community council, which was interesting and fairly heated as usual. I spoke up against spending money on things like paint-your-own-piggy-banks and tie-dye-shirts, and was instead in favor of using our money for something more permanent, like lamps or chairs or a Blu-Ray player. I don't think I made a whole lot of friends at that meeting.
I guess this hasn't been a very Valentine-y post, but here's a Valentine-y poem I found to love things up a bit:
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
-E.E. Cummings (I Carry Your Heart With Me)
1. Took a German test (horrific. I was so tired last night, and the Nyquil was kicking in, and I just stopped caring about dative verbs. It happens, although I certainly hope I get my act together for the next test)
2. Walked to Subway with my roommate for dinner. The girl behind the counter was quite chatty: "You know Andrea broke up with her boyfriend of 2 months and she called in to say she couldn't work. When I broke up with my boyfriend of 2 and a half years I worked every single day!"
Can I just have my Italian BMT please?
3. Played intramural volleyball. We had an off night, which was really okay. The not so okay part was two members of our team being poor sports and huffing off the court afterwards like they wanted nothing to do with the rest of us. If there's anything I've learned playing sports, it's that any loss (or win) is a culmination of events. Bad serves, missed blocks, out-of-bounds spikes, etc. It's incredibly unfortunate when people choose to point fingers and dwell on individual plays.
4. Went to community council, which was interesting and fairly heated as usual. I spoke up against spending money on things like paint-your-own-piggy-banks and tie-dye-shirts, and was instead in favor of using our money for something more permanent, like lamps or chairs or a Blu-Ray player. I don't think I made a whole lot of friends at that meeting.
I guess this hasn't been a very Valentine-y post, but here's a Valentine-y poem I found to love things up a bit:
i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you
here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart
i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)
-E.E. Cummings (I Carry Your Heart With Me)
Sunday, February 13, 2011
A Nerdy Reference
Whenever we have an unseasonable thaw like this, I always think of The Chronicles of Narnia.
It's in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and because Aslan is back in Narnia, the White Witch's unending winter is slowly ending. The snow is melting, buds are pushing themselves out of tree branches, and the White Witch's slave-dwarf starts to peel off his coat: "It's soooo warm out!" he exclaims stupidly. Piercing glare from White Witch (if looks could kill...). The dwarf, chastened, skulks off away from the Witch: "I'll go and...check the sleigh," he says.
Yes, I think Aslan's definitely back in town.
It's in The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, and because Aslan is back in Narnia, the White Witch's unending winter is slowly ending. The snow is melting, buds are pushing themselves out of tree branches, and the White Witch's slave-dwarf starts to peel off his coat: "It's soooo warm out!" he exclaims stupidly. Piercing glare from White Witch (if looks could kill...). The dwarf, chastened, skulks off away from the Witch: "I'll go and...check the sleigh," he says.
Yes, I think Aslan's definitely back in town.
Friday, February 11, 2011
In Just Winter
In just Winter
The world smells like ham and cheese sandwiches
which I notice as I walk from class
Past the table where Dom sells
truffles
and love poems
for Valentine's Day
and I keep my head down
because I promised to buy one
and I haven't.
I used to pick the melty cheese
off the sandwiches we had at school
and eat just bread,
wincing as I encountered some American
I had missed.
Past the igloo on the mall
soft and melty
the entrance a black hole with mush surrounding
I never went in, you know?
Mom used to tell me not to make snow forts like that
because they can collapse
and crush you into suffocating whiteness.
I was only allowed to dig a little bit into the plowed snow
at the edge of the driveway, making a half cave
that barely concealed my sled and I.
It's just Winter
and the world is of softening snow
and ham and cheese sandwiches.
Someone asked me why I didn't say anything in American Lit.
Her name might have been Brittany or Angela.
I said I just didn't feel like it.
How does one explain
that the soggy world outside
(even as it dissolves into nothing)
means more today
(as it drips to nothing)
than even F. Scott Fitzgerald?
The world smells like ham and cheese sandwiches
which I notice as I walk from class
Past the table where Dom sells
truffles
and love poems
for Valentine's Day
and I keep my head down
because I promised to buy one
and I haven't.
I used to pick the melty cheese
off the sandwiches we had at school
and eat just bread,
wincing as I encountered some American
I had missed.
Past the igloo on the mall
soft and melty
the entrance a black hole with mush surrounding
I never went in, you know?
Mom used to tell me not to make snow forts like that
because they can collapse
and crush you into suffocating whiteness.
I was only allowed to dig a little bit into the plowed snow
at the edge of the driveway, making a half cave
that barely concealed my sled and I.
It's just Winter
and the world is of softening snow
and ham and cheese sandwiches.
Someone asked me why I didn't say anything in American Lit.
Her name might have been Brittany or Angela.
I said I just didn't feel like it.
How does one explain
that the soggy world outside
(even as it dissolves into nothing)
means more today
(as it drips to nothing)
than even F. Scott Fitzgerald?
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
No More Winter Dreams
Today my American Literature professor called Ernest Hemingway a "crazy genius bastard."
And I have to say, that even after an unfortunate experience with The Sun Also Rises, I agree with her.
We're finishing the Modernists this week and retreating back to Dickinson. I don't want to go back to Dickinson. I want to stay with the Modernists! Nothing against dear Emily, but I studied her last semester as well, and two consecutive semesters of depressing, abstract, randomly-dashed poetry is too much for me.
On top of that, because we spent the first 15 minutes of today's class discussing E.E. Cummings' Buffalo Bill, we lost time discussing Hemingway's Snows of Kilimanjaro. And since in order to give Ernest his due we'll have to pick up on Snows on Friday, F. Scott Fitzgerald (who was supposed to commandeer all of Friday) is instead being cut down to one story.
As you may have guessed, the main reason I was so excited for this class over Christmas was because of F. Scott. And now he's being pared down to Babylon Revisited. Winter Dreams are discarded until further notice (perhaps forever) to make way for Snow (on a mountain in Africa that is no longer snow covered, according to the footnotes in my Norton (thank you global warning)).
And I have to say, that even after an unfortunate experience with The Sun Also Rises, I agree with her.
We're finishing the Modernists this week and retreating back to Dickinson. I don't want to go back to Dickinson. I want to stay with the Modernists! Nothing against dear Emily, but I studied her last semester as well, and two consecutive semesters of depressing, abstract, randomly-dashed poetry is too much for me.
On top of that, because we spent the first 15 minutes of today's class discussing E.E. Cummings' Buffalo Bill, we lost time discussing Hemingway's Snows of Kilimanjaro. And since in order to give Ernest his due we'll have to pick up on Snows on Friday, F. Scott Fitzgerald (who was supposed to commandeer all of Friday) is instead being cut down to one story.
As you may have guessed, the main reason I was so excited for this class over Christmas was because of F. Scott. And now he's being pared down to Babylon Revisited. Winter Dreams are discarded until further notice (perhaps forever) to make way for Snow (on a mountain in Africa that is no longer snow covered, according to the footnotes in my Norton (thank you global warning)).
Monday, February 7, 2011
12 Year Old Fiction
Yesterday, upon discovering (to my dismay) that Briggs Library is severely lacking in regular adult fiction, I ventured upstairs to the kids/young adult fiction and picked out five books I remember loving when I was 12 or so:
1. Lily's Crossing, by Patricia Reilly Giff
2. The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle, by Avi
3. My Louisiana Sky, by Kimberly Willis Holt
4. The Watsons Go to Birmingham-1963, by Christopher Paul Curtis
5. Our Only May Amelia, by Jennifer L. Holm
I practically had to pretend to be an elementary ed. major in order to avoid suspicion from the nosy check-out girl, but it's been very, very worth it so far.
1. Lily's Crossing, by Patricia Reilly Giff
2. The True Confessions of Charlotte Doyle, by Avi
3. My Louisiana Sky, by Kimberly Willis Holt
4. The Watsons Go to Birmingham-1963, by Christopher Paul Curtis
5. Our Only May Amelia, by Jennifer L. Holm
I practically had to pretend to be an elementary ed. major in order to avoid suspicion from the nosy check-out girl, but it's been very, very worth it so far.
Sunday, February 6, 2011
A Shrieking Good Concert
I don't like being screamed at I don't like being screamed at.
I attended my first Symphonic Winds concert this afternoon. It was lovely, really, and as I was floating along on the music, exclaiming (privately) at the beauty of Oyate and the beauty of the nonsubzero day outside, the screams began.
They escalated until beautiful Oyate Hall echoed with the sounds of people dying, or fleeing in terror. I thought someone had pulled out a gun, I thought someone had seen a ghost, I thought the very worst.
But nope. It was all part of the music.
Apparently blood-curdling screams are very in right now.
As I surreptitiously tried to wipe off the tears that were threatening to fall out of my eyes, I noticed two little girls who were sitting a few rows in front of me. They looked about as frightened as I felt. They were clinging to their father with saucer eyes and mussed hair and probably asking him why were people screaming?
I wondered that myself as I tried to rub the goosebumps off of my arms.
I think I'm going to go hide under the covers now.
I attended my first Symphonic Winds concert this afternoon. It was lovely, really, and as I was floating along on the music, exclaiming (privately) at the beauty of Oyate and the beauty of the nonsubzero day outside, the screams began.
They escalated until beautiful Oyate Hall echoed with the sounds of people dying, or fleeing in terror. I thought someone had pulled out a gun, I thought someone had seen a ghost, I thought the very worst.
But nope. It was all part of the music.
Apparently blood-curdling screams are very in right now.
As I surreptitiously tried to wipe off the tears that were threatening to fall out of my eyes, I noticed two little girls who were sitting a few rows in front of me. They looked about as frightened as I felt. They were clinging to their father with saucer eyes and mussed hair and probably asking him why were people screaming?
I wondered that myself as I tried to rub the goosebumps off of my arms.
I think I'm going to go hide under the covers now.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Holly and the Clue to the Half Mast Flag
It's a busy day for me: 2 meetings, 2 different shifts for 2 different jobs, plus class and Pickleball club (later).
But in the midst of all the above activities, I've been wandering around campus asking random people if they know why our flag's at half mast.
I asked the ladies in the Social Science Office. They didn't know, but they did help me Google it (to no avail).
I asked Yehia at the Info. Desk. He didn't know, but he checked the log for me (nothing).
I asked Elizabeth, who was tabling. She didn't know, but she told me to hurry up (I was almost late for my meeting).
I asked my roommate, but she told me she had been planning to ask me the same question.
All of this is very mysterious, and frankly disconcerting. After all, the point of a half mast flag is that Americans look up at it and remember something, and pay their respects. If we don't know what we're supposed to be remembering, then it defeats the purpose of the entire situation.
I hope I'll be able to get back to you soon with an answer to this Thursday mystery of mine. As I type, I'm getting ready to drive off in my (new, of course) blue convertible with my attractive boyfriend Ned, and my good friends Bess (plump and pretty) and George (athletic and dark-haired). We'll surely have everything solved by page 200.
But in the midst of all the above activities, I've been wandering around campus asking random people if they know why our flag's at half mast.
I asked the ladies in the Social Science Office. They didn't know, but they did help me Google it (to no avail).
I asked Yehia at the Info. Desk. He didn't know, but he checked the log for me (nothing).
I asked Elizabeth, who was tabling. She didn't know, but she told me to hurry up (I was almost late for my meeting).
I asked my roommate, but she told me she had been planning to ask me the same question.
All of this is very mysterious, and frankly disconcerting. After all, the point of a half mast flag is that Americans look up at it and remember something, and pay their respects. If we don't know what we're supposed to be remembering, then it defeats the purpose of the entire situation.
I hope I'll be able to get back to you soon with an answer to this Thursday mystery of mine. As I type, I'm getting ready to drive off in my (new, of course) blue convertible with my attractive boyfriend Ned, and my good friends Bess (plump and pretty) and George (athletic and dark-haired). We'll surely have everything solved by page 200.
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