Dorm livin' ain't no livin' at all. Bad food. No kitchen. Annoying hallmates who monger gossip about the non-annoying hallmate in the hospital. Hallmates who scream and yelp. Cubicle-like room. God awful rent contract. Ecchhh.

Bitching aside, last night was fun. Janelle invited us over to play the 90s game with her roommate and a friend of theirs. Tried Mike's Hard Lemonade for the first time -- it wasn't bad. I do likes the lemonade taste, and it's not too strong in the booze department. However, the 90s game tends to go on for way too long. Not recommended.

There's a big rant-ish post in my drafts file. So there's more a-coming, but I have a lot of work this weekend.

Oh, who wanted the postcard again? I know Soph was on there...Bai, were you the other one? Were there more? I lost track and then everything got deleted.

As I think I mentioned before, my cousin (link at right) is getting hitched in Phoenix next weekend. I get to ditch Dead Week weekend to go visit my family and watch Aaron marry a nice Scotsdale girl. The great this is I'll be seeing family I haven't seen in years, or have never met before. The not-so-great thing is that Dead Week is called Dead Week for a reason. I'm going to be scribbling paper drafts on the plane both ways. But hey, Arizona in the spring should be fun. Chances are, the food will be good too.

Still no decision on the honors college. German class was extra annoying today. I'll break it down: Our GTF lived in Germany for years. She was born there. The stupid frat boys in our class have been to Germany once. From the sound of it, they went on a high school trip. And yet they still argue with our GTF about the stupidest stuff -- and they think they're right! Today, they were pissing on about names of fruit. Did I mention how ridiculously incensed they get when things don't translate word for word? It's really frustrating. These dopes are prime examples of the little boys and girls at Uni that never grow up until they absolutely have to. If the world of academia is REALLY bitching over minutia, then screw being a professor. I'm going to be a bartender. With an M.A. in Romantic Poetry.

Why do I keep vacillating about the honors college? My lit professor is trying to talk me into staying -- I can't talk to anyone there without getting a pitch. She's a senior staff member and knows all of the loopholes and get-arounds, so she can help me avoid some required classes. If I petition her, I might be able to work out the schedule I gushed and oozed about yesterday and use the history and english classes to take care of two classes I would otherwise take from the honors college. Plus, the research project I'm working on will strengthen the deal because of the research paper they make students write in the spring term lit/history classes. It's really bureaucratic, though. This is only to get me in the clear for this year. After that, there are five colloquia I need to take, only two of which I can petition to substitute, a senior seminar and thesis...did I mention the required math? It really hurts my head to think of all of these courses that I MUST take in addition to english and art requirements. I did a rough sketch of recs, and it looks like I can do it all, but I will have very few classes of my choosing outside of my various obligatory classes. ARGGGGH.

And I wish I could bring this up with my lit professor without her telling me that she'd "hate to lose me" and that Prof. Lambelet (history guru from last term) told her to "look out" for me. Is this flattery? Is she playing to my ego? Is the honors college actually a good place for me? Can I distinguish myself academically without it? Can...will...if...I....

AAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

I hope the new comments work out because Haloscan is both nifty and user friendly. A vague goal of mine is to be able to do all this code business myself, but these little doodads and downloads make it so easy. Next on my to-do list for El Bloggo is to figure out what the hell trackback is and how I can use it to my amusement.

As we bear down on week 10 (currently, it's wednesday of week 8 -- just so's you semester folk are clear on this, we quarterlies have three ten week terms and a summer quarter), my work load remains managable. Perhaps that's because my classes are ENORMOUSLY EASY. Well, my German class is tough, but that's a matter of not being a lazy-ass and studying my vocabulary. My lit class is enjoyable, but it isn't a brain-buster. The prof is, as I've probably mentioned before, very cool in a sassy old lady sort of way. She carries a little fan -- one of those flip-out numbers -- which I happen to think is idiosyncratically classy. The other two classes aren't worth mentioning, nor are they worth the money I'm paying for them. My history prof, who is better suited to teaching high school (and you'll see why after I close these parenthesis), wants us to underline our thesis and topic sentences in our next paper. Out of sheer ennui, our class has lowered our collective standards to "having thesis problems" -- I might add that this is one of my Honors College classes. No one in the room respects the prof anymore (which is kind of a shame because she's clearly knowledgable, if a bit...clueless), and as such, a paper I forgot about until the night before it was due got an A+. It wasn't a great paper. It may have beena good paper, but I was too sleepy to tell the difference while I wrote it. I got the impression that I got a good grade because I had a thesis and I stuck to it while still more or less regurgitating the book and her lectures onto paper.

But enough bitching. So many cool things are on the horizon, I can hardly stand it. First, Kyle and I finish our finals on Tuesday of finals week. This means that the remainder of this week is ours to spend as we wish. This is awesome because we get to ditch the dorm early and trot around Portland for an extra 3 days. Portland for a week is great, but Portland for a week and a half is better, especially when spent at Roberta's place. Real food, funny and engaging host, great city...ahhhhh. Vacation -- cue the Gogos. In a more short term-y excitement, this week and next week are registration weeks for spring term classes. I have everything all planned out. Barring these classes filling up before my registration time (March 1 at 6pm -- everything gets frozen over the weekend), I'm going to drop the Honors College and fully pursue the English/Art thing. German continues, but I'm looking toward a special studies English class on "Nature in the 18th Century." Romantic poets! Blake (personal fave), Keats, Tennyson, Byron, Coleridge, the whole gang. If I get into this class, I will be ecstatic. Tack onto that a drawing class and American Radicalism in the history side of things, and you get one happy Erica. Next term is going to rock. I hope I didn't say that about this term...

Son of a...
Well, comments are broken. YET AGAIN. I'm switching to a different provider doohickey before things get worse.

EDIT: Let's see how well this works. Sadly, all previous comments are lost. Sorry.

Wow. From the NY Times, 10:42 EST (3 hours or so before I type now), this doozy.

In March 1999, German intelligence officials gave the Central Intelligence Agency the first name and telephone number of Marwan al-Shehhi, and asked the Americans to track him….

After the Germans passed the information on to the C.I.A., they did not hear from the Americans about the matter until after Sept. 11, a senior German intelligence official said. "There was no response" at the time, the official said. After receiving the tip, the C.I.A. decided that "Marwan" was probably an associate of Osama bin Laden, but never tracked him down, American officials say.

… The information concerning Mr. Shehhi, the man who took over the controls of United Airlines Flight 175, which flew into the south tower of the World Trade Center, came months earlier than well-documented tips ….

snip

An American official said: "The Germans did give us the name `Marwan' and a phone number, but we were unable to come up with anything. It was an unlisted phone number in the U.A.E., which he was known to use."

snip

Mr. Shehhi and Mr. Atta traveled to Afghanistan in 2000 to train at a Qaeda camp with several other Sept. 11 plotters. And after returning to Germany, Mr. Shehhi made an ominous reference to the World Trade Center to a Hamburg librarian, saying: "There will be thousands of dead. You will all think of me," German authorities said.

Now, I'm not sold on the "Bush planned 9-11" theory. It would take a truly evil man to do that -- evil in the sense that the word is meant. Evil on par with genocide, not euphemism. A tip like this merits presidential attention, especially in light of Shehhi's quote. Unfortunately, the article doesn't say whether or not this information got to Bush's desk. It does say that the CIA and FBI are under a good deal of scrutiny, but the president in blameless until it's shown that he got the memo. So I don't want to jump to conclusions, but the CIA and FBI are executive branches that report to El Presidente. Furthermore, I don't want to see blame pushed off onto the German intelligence if that's not were it's due. The 9-11 commission needs to figure all of this out because I can't take any more scapegoating. If the CIA is to blame, then let's do something. If it's the president, let's impeach him. If it's Germany, I don't know what to do there. I doubt it's Germany's fault, though, because all of this occured in 1999 -- when we were still chummy with "old" Europe because Clinton was at the helm. (Yes, I do think that Clinton was a good foreign diplomat. He was an excellent orator, too. And that budget surplus thing was nice, too. Naturally, this doesn't excuse any sort of personal affair, but isn't the key word there "personal"? Didn't Kennedy only get a slap on the wrist, if that? Anyway...) While I'd love to see this end up in Bush's lap (no propaganda can make this better -- it's too sick), chances are pretty fair that this was a CIA oversight. But I rant.

Got a Katieletter today. Made my day in so many ways.

I heart James Joyce.

This is cool. To summarize, Einstein's theory of a "dark energy" slowly pulling the universe apart is more or less correct. In 10 billion years or so, we'll get one of three things: A big rip, a big crunch, or the universe continues (no doubt waiting for a rip or crunch). The way it's looking, we're headed for a rip, as this "dark energy" (it sounds so Star Wars...) shreds the universe as we know it. Cool. I mean, it's fun to think about because I know I'm not going to be around, but someone at NASA will probably come up with a nifty animation of how all of everything will go kaputt.

Enough of Science Sunday. Last night, about a quarter of my hall went mini-golfing and bowling for free. Reasonably free, anyhow -- the University's res hall funding comes out of our pockets eventually, but we still didn't have to break out our wallets. It was fun, especially the mini-golf. Kyle and I bet a sundae on our outcome (Rothman wins!) and WAM Joel!, Jeremy the grad student, Megan, Kyle and I got bored with normal putt-putt rules and opted to swing all together (mini-golf CHAOS!!!) or kick our golf balls to the hole (mad, mad soccer skills right there). I got to know the names of some people on the Mystery Floor (2nd floor), which was cool. Most of them are still total non-entities, but hey.

I saw a guy in the dining hall that looked like David Martenson from Rogers Park. That was bizarre.

And now, for the homework.

"San Francisco Superior Court Judge Ronald Quidachay denied the request on the grounds that the conservative family values group, the Campaign for California Families, had not presented evidence showing that irreparable harm would be caused by allowing the weddings to continue." More here. Italics are my doing because that's what I've been saying all along. I just don't understand what the problem is. If John and Dave want to get hitched, they're not going to insist that straight men marry other straight men. That's ludicrous.

Oh, and this is worthy of note:

"JERUSALEM - Israel will tear down part of its controversial West Bank barrier on the eve of World Court hearings challenging its legality.

Workers will start dismantling an eight kilometre section of the barrier in the northern West Bank tomorrow after soldiers removed a watch-tower, cables and lighting from the area this morning." More here.

And there's the dose of current affairs for the day.

Designed to make you jealous: Kyle and I are going to see Modest Mouse in April. In Portland.

In other news, it's friday. Ahhhhhh.

It's official: First floor is where the proverbial "it" is at. Our RA lives there, and he's awesome. He's so awesome that he came all the way up to us mensches on the fourth floor to share cookies his mom made. Weird Art Major Joel (or WAM Joel! for short) (yes, with the exclamation point -- it fits him) and this guy named Charlie came with him; hallmates Marie and Megan joined us (Katharine and Sara too, for a bit) and it was a party. Rockin' out. Apparently, a good deal of first floor has some sort of insomnia or over-abundance of evening energy -- they all stay up until the wee hours wandering about Eugene or playing baseball with various items, etc. I need to spend more time on the first floor.

FUCKIN-- my hallmates of the more obnoxious caliber just got back from the basketball game. Last time I checked, we were behind by about 14 to Arizona. We probably lost. Anyhow, the pack of hyenas returned while I was typing the first paragraph, and one of my lovely, lovely peers let out a scream for no damn good reason at all. Loud. Jamie Lee Curtis in Halloween loud. Straight down our echo-y, Kafka-eqsue hall. I definitely need to spend more time on the first floor.

Let's see...news...news...hmm. Not a whole lot going down here, really. I got a C on a German quiz (circa Tuesday) because it covered pointless vocabulary. The test was earlier today; we'll see how that goes. To jump subjects entirely, I think I'm going to keep the blog decor as-is for now. And I swear I will scan pictures soon. I need to watermark them, though. It's incredibly egotistical of me to think that my amateurish snapshots would strike the fancy of online photo theives, but they're still my intellectual property, damn it! In fact, I think I'll get on that tonight. WAM Joel!, Marc, and Charlie inspired me to stay up late. I mean, I've been a pretty good girl for most of the year in terms of sleep. And if I want a shower, I'm going to have to wait anyway. More on the unspoken rules of group showers later...pictures to-NIGHT!

EDIT: Pictures as promised.


More here. My user name is ericarothman and the visitor's password is heyjude. Newest stuff is in batch 1. Older stuff is just...there.

Does anyone want a postcard?

Via Eppy (link at left), this is freaking hilarious.

Not too much of note going on, really. I'm trying to write everyday both on here and in a notebook, though sometimes one is at the behest of the other. I was talking to Kyle about this thing I have about writing (or not writing), and it boils down to this: I have always wanted to write in some form (hence journalism), but I have rarely believed that I can do write with success. Call it self-doubt, call it fear of rejection, call it whiny bitching...I just don't think that a grad school or magazine or publishing house or anything other than Blogger would take me. Please note that I'm rambling, not fishing for compliments. If I wanted my ego stroked, I'd start an argument in my J201 class. And win. Handily. It's cheap, but not below the belt cheap. Not stealing change from blind men cheap. Not frat-boy-baiting cheap. Not...well, yeah. Not those.

So I have this thing on my ear. I'd like to call it a sore, but it got infected and now it's a big, ugly derma-mofo. For the majority of today (it's gotten better since I threatened it with a Van Gogh-style piece of butchery), it's been throbbing to the point of near-tears. It's probably a zit gone wrong, but I'm not accustomed to acne HURTING LIKE A BIG, UGLY MOFO IN HEAT on the cartilagenous part of my ear. Kyle was putting up with my kvetching earlier, but I can image that mewling over a boil (no matter how big and ugly a mofo is it) is rather obnoxious. I've put a sock in it, and it's starting to feel better.

Moving away from my various lesions, I'm thinking about staying in Eugene for the summer. There's a job I can get with the University that involves very little effort and free room and board. Plus a weekly stipend. Hmmm...

The Triplets of Belleville = awesome. See it. It was hilarious and cute and absurd -- I laughed more in an hour and a half than I had during the previous week.

I just got back from a Literary Society meeting. We finally got around to weeding out the crap. I was expecting a higher caliber of writing, frankly, but there was still some good stuff there. I felt really embarrassed about one thing, though. All six editors put submissions in with the rest to get some feedback, and one of the poems I thought was not so hot turned out to be one of my fellow editors'. He's a nice guy, and I felt mean. Kyle and I were a little bit mocking (not too bad, or at least I hope not) -- thing was, everyone but us knew that it was his. Oh well. He took it easily. The poem was very Christian, and I think that triggered biases in Kyle and myself. Other than that, it was a lot of fun. There was some god awful poetry there. It rivals the majesty that is going on with El Kaz.

Short post today -- I'm tired and I need to call my dad. It's his birthday.

Last night, Kyle and I went to a late-night movie: "Miles Davis, Live in Munich." For a jazz fan like me, you'd think that would be a real treat. Nope. It was Miles in Munich in 1988, backed by the most fusion-pop, elevator-music, synthesized 80's stuff I've ever heard. Even A-ha can't compare to this. The moment I heard synthesized vox, I knew we were in for it, but I figured that Miles was trying to keep with the times and all, so we stayed. Sticking it out only made it worse. It remained bizarre. Davis was doing his jazzy thing, but his backers were completely 80's-ing it up. We left early, and couldn't get our money because we decided to "see if it got better." Oh well. For old-school jazz fans who think fusion is the worst thing that happened to jazz (except for Kenny G, but he doesn't count), this is NOT recommended. Tonight, we're going back to the Bijou to see "The Triplets of Belleville" -- an Oscar-nominated French cartoon. Hopefully that will be worth the dough.

For those of you who are wondering, neither Kyle nor I are "into" Valentine's day. It's overly-commercial and crass. Couples and potential couples don't need a designated day to be amorous. After all, isn't spontaneity part of keeping a relationship interesting? So while the Glenwood, Ambrosia, Cafe Xenon, and all of Eugene's other cute, romantic restaurants are packed to the gills with those a-wooing, we'll be polishing off hot and sour soup leftovers or eating at the dining hall, and then heading out for a French cartoon. Why waste the romance on an arbitrary day that we didn't choose? Of my own volition, I showered my love with affection on a random Saturday in January. I just don't understand what makes February 14 so special. It's the day before my dad's birthday -- that's something.

To change the subject a bit, a bunch of gay and lesbian couples got hitched in San Francisco thanks to their tricksy mayor. Gavin Newsom is the hero of the day. The New York Times has an article about the religious right's consequent hissy fit. I just want to slap them all and say, "Why does this even concern you?" Maybe they're pissed off because so far, gay marriages seem to last longer than straight ones. What's our divorce rate now? Fifty percent? Higher? Maybe the slogan should be "Legalize Gay Divorce" instead.

Rather than go the expensive and time-consuming route of taking a class in HTML, Perl, and so on, I've been using the library. Needless to say, there will be endless fiddling with layout and such. Blogger is pretty nifty. They take care of the hard part (perl and CGI stuff is way beyond me), and I get to make it pretty. So over the next few days (weeks?), I'll be less focused on content and more focused on aethetics. I'm learning a lot as I go. It's fun, in a very nerdy sort of way.

Today was really great. Well, there were a couple of hours that weren't so hot, but overall, a fine day. The sun was out, for one thing. Not a common occurence in a Eugene February, or so I'm told. A good day of sun is enough to carry me through whatever else -- I survived eighteen winters of Anchorage, after all. Oh! Oh! In my German class, I understood every bit of the dialogue our GTF presented. It was great; I felt that little language click go off, and everything made sense. Even when she rushed through the numbers (I still have a bit of trouble with my viers and fünfs). Ich verstehe der Deutsch!

Once again, I smell like toner. God bless darkrooms.

Massive link update. Format update pending.

Overheard today:
SOME GIRL:I can't believe I got a 79 on that paper!
SOME GUY: Yeah. Professor (So and So) is a total hard-ass. I worked all night and only got an 84.
GIRL: At least you got a B. My mom wrote, like, half of my paper and I STILL got a 79! And my mom is a very smart woman.
GUY: (mutters something)
GIRL: A 79. For all that work! This class fucking sucks.

I'd like to call that karma. My jaw hit the ground when I heard that. At an accredited university. I think UVa has the right idea (or had it when my grandpapa went there) with an honor code that all students sign, allowing their expulsion if they are caught cheating. Maybe I'm being too uptight about this, but what good does it do her, the professor, or the class if she's not writing her own goddamn paper? I mean, I cheated on math tests in high school once in a while, but that's not something I'd even consider at this level. Unbelievable.

Another hilarious spam: "If thong is wrong, send me to hell." I just died of laughter poisoning.

More later.

Hotmail's spam filters are treating me right, for once. Occasionally, something that I may want or need gets filtered to junk mail, but I periodically check it. I admit -- I check it for the hilarity as much as or more than the search and rescuing. Today's gems (subject lines only, I'm uber-virus/spyware paranoid*): "Pulsing Pole of Penile POW-AH!" "Check out these F.R.E.A.K.Y. D.I.C.K.S.!!!" and the ever-present "Georgia, you need a new mortgage." Of course, my favorite comes from the days at the Anchorage Daily News, subject to spam greater than most mortals can bear -- "Igor, got debt?" The sender? Someone named Grandville Istre. If that's not the name of a gated community or foreign race track (or both), I'll eat my hat. I don't think I'll be responding, as my penis is perfectly fine in its non-existence and porn isn't really my thing. Especially freak dicks. And as for Igor and Georgia, they gots the wrong number. Style points for the alliteration and spelling of POW-AH, however, are due. Speaking of spamola, this site is full of spam poetry.

Single-handedly, I stopped a really big rip in the knee of my well-lovededest jeans in its tracks. It was one of those holes that is positioned perfectly to rip a little more with every move I made. Now, it is frozen as a large, but stylish gap. How did I stop the destruction -- nay, the madness? Superglue, applied in a border around the rip inside and out. I'm a college-livin' genius. Maybe I should write a book of tips and such for po' students such as I a la Heloise. Maybe not. But I feel mighty accomplished.

The feeling of accomplishment (soaring further, as I've gotten all my reading done for the next two days in the wake of a history class cancellation) will hopefully overshadow the creeping doubts about college as a culture. When I see people I know walk by, I'll ask how they're doing, they'll ask the same and no one gets a response. The feigned interest bothers me. It's not across the board, but it makes me wonder. There's a sense of entitlement here, a feeling of "I'm better." Everything is steeped in this thought of degree = money. More money than one would make flipping burgers or cleaning hotel rooms. The selfishness transfers easily to social relations. I don't have a whole lot of friends here, and maybe that's a good thing. Shallowness is a cultural value. It's depressing. Hope comes from the people that listen as much as they talk, read over papers together, or undergo the torture of a German skit (heh -- I had the best part in that, bar none.) It's easy to get lost in loneliness and latch on to whoever is closest. That thought courtesy of Katie's latest piece -- which I enjoyed.

This is getting a bit consciousness-streamy, so I'll hold off for now. But posting once per day is the goal, so tune in next time. Today's post was brought to you by Superglue and well-ventilated rooms.

Kyle is trying to fix her naughty laptop (which has been freezing lately), and the re-install CD is making noises like a record being scratched. Vvvvwwwip! Vwip! Vwipipipip!

Now that the sound effects for the day are out of the way (as is the rhyme, apparently), the entry continues into my wide and varied academic flakiness. Despite some vacillating on the fact, I realized the other day that anything I can do with a journalism degree, I can probably also do with an english degree. I mean, they both prove that I'm literate, and an art minor is a feather in my cap in case I actually find a media outlet that will have me (and hasn't been devoured by Time-Warner, News corp, etc). Plus, I've been thinking about adding computer science to the mix as a minor. I mean, if it involves lots of math, it's out, but I'm definintely going to attempt to become a little more tech-savvy than I already am. I'm not really content to understand what to do with programs but not how they work. Not that I want to dive head-long into Java and C++ and Unix and all that other stuff. I hardly know the differences between them. But I would like to a) fix up my blog a little, b) know enough jargon to tap into some nerdy scholarships I found and c) market computer knowledge as a skill in my utility belt. Right next to "cash register literate" and "good with people." So I'm probably going to take a CIS class next term. And an english class, hopefully from Professor Ben Saunders, about whom I will wax admiringly throughout my stay at UO. This guy is COOL. And he's smart AND he has a British (Londoner) accent. He's my hero... Not that I'm enrolled in his class, but Kyle is -- I've tagged along, dorky as that is. Just a couple times. I've got to say again, this guy is COOL.

In other news, I'm ignoring a paper due Wednesday for my boring history class. I'll do it tomorrow. This class...the prof clearly just wants the books spat back at her. She's like my high school economics teacher. Except she's not a fat bastard who calls me a commie. And she has a brain. Okay, okay, so that wasn't a good comparison. But the class is sub-par.

Meanwhile, the food here still sucks.

Apparently, the old bloggaroo isn't enjoying this whole loading concept and comments are being odd. At least, that's how things appear on my computer. I'll be getting to the bottom of this.

The first batch of mail has gone out and should be arriving soon. Second batch is up to bat.

Can I do a journalism/english double major with an art minor and not die/run out of money and options? This merits further investigation.

Today was definitely strange. I woke up and went to German class as usual, then realized that the workbook, which we are supposed to fill out throughout the whole chapter, was due (we had a chapter test today). My workbook, however, was somewhere in my school junk pile -- completely untouched. I bought some time by asking to turn it in during my GTF's office hours and miraculously finished it in about an hour-fifteen. That got my heart racing for literature class, where my prof told us (on a huge tangent) that she'd met Charles Manson about two years before he started to get famous for that whole brainwashing people/murder/creepy family thing. She met him at a party when she was an undergrad (at UO, apparently) and went on a beer run with him. The kicker? He tried to recruit her, but she didn't bite. Upon returning to the party, she got out of there.

The funniest part was when this girl in my class had him confused with actor James Mason, "Oh, I LOVE Charles Manson!" Needless to say, that got her some funny looks.

I'll scan some pictures this weekend -- the shot of the Willamette street stumps is one of my favorites.

Oh, by the way, Bush is completely behind an anti-gay marriage amendment, as if there were any doubt. I'll hunt down the link. It's disgusting -- people are going to fall in line with him because of bigotry and because he's so insanely powerful. Canada, anyone?

This is a little bit stale, but it's ripped straight from the notebook, dated last Saturday.

Today when I showered, I smeared my face with apricot goo in part to keep the pimples away and in part because of something Areli said to me once. She told me that rubbing ground apricot pits on my face is as destructive as dragging broken glass across my pores. Pumice is more soothing, she said. This factoid came from one of her mother's vegetarian magazines, which had been really diappointing lately because it was full of Cosmo tips for granola-munchers who would never read Cosmo but would take the same advice if printed next to a butternut squash soup recipe. When she told me this, I had been using the stuff off and on for a few weeks. The bottle was nearly full. Maybe, I thought today, I want to scrape my face off.

Lately, I can't seem to grip what I am or want in any form or substance. If I could see myself inside-out, would I know any better?

Well, enough of that. My photo class is tonight, and I'm really excited again. I have a ton of negatives ready to be printed. On Monday, I shot a bunch of film and I can't wait to shoot more. Like I said, a cheap film-hook up would be REALLY nice. As soon as they're ready, I'll scan some and post links to them.

My J201 class is more of a chore than ever. I have no interest anymore. Journalism is dead to me. I'm stuck with it for the rest of the term, but after that I'm home free. Free as an English major. Ahhhh.

Holy CRAP. I just got a headache -- it came out of nowhere. Already wasn't feeling 100% marvelous, but enough whining.

I didn't think to get the link, but there's an online tribute to graffiti artists called the Wooster collection somewhere in internet space. It's really cool.

Things are normal, for the most part. I shot a couple rolls of film today. The weather has been pretty fair, so I'll probably shoot some more this week. A cheap film hook-up would be great right about now.

That's really all I've got. I have some reading to finish. And a German test on thursday.