Why I'm a lazy fool:

Three job applications, all due tomorrow, are sitting on my desk. Not complete.
Homework
I spent last night taping a broom to a ceiling and playing hall diplomat because of aforementioned taping. Also: watching Family Guy and Futurama. God Bless adult swim, which, as much as I love 'em, isn't enough of a reason to justify buying an idiot box.
I'm procrastinating like a mofo in heat. Bad habits all over again.
It's the first week of the term, so everything goes into the "I'll do it later" sort of jive.

In other news, last night was hilarious with the brooms and exchange students and antics and whatnot. OH! ANCHORAGE OUTRAGE: There are fliers around campus for a little indie-looking gig. Who's the artist? Matt fuckin' Hopper, Anchorage's ego-driven, self-proclaimed rock star. This guy is so whiny, so quinessentially "emo" (hate that term, and a good deal of that music), and so pompous...gragrrr. It leaves me speechless. Needless to say, I'm not going.

Today was the first day of drawring in my drawring class. The assignment was to complete 30 drawings by the end of class. I didn't budget my time too well, but I came up with some reasonable stuff. Even though there are some snooty arr-teests in there, I think I'll have fun with the class. The prof is very cool; we discussed crossing media, and how drawing skills could be helpful or interesting in photography in terms of photoshop and darkroom processes.

Scanned stuff forthcoming.

We got back from Portland yesterday, and I'll spare you the blow by blow account right here. I'll scan and post it from the sketchbook I wrote and doodled in there later. That may take a while and might not be worth the effort. It's just my little travelogue with pictures and such. Not to mention I'll be editing it for content, you bet your Photoshop I will. Some items will be funnyish removed from context, which is just as well because I don't want to share the context with all three of the people who read this thing.

So instead of my Portlanding, you get the first day of spring term! Gorgeous day, I might add in that special gloating tone I save for comparing Eugene weather to Anchorage weather. My German class is not only sans frat boys, but it's smaller than last term by about a third. I have the same GTF, Maria, as I did last term, and she's her usual perky, Teutonic self. On a related note, first floor has some new students (two Steves and a Simon), one of whom is from Germany (he's the Simon). Interestingly, this gives them two Steves and two Joels, and both pairs are roommates. Marie, my kitty-corner neighbor, got a new roommate from Korea, whose name (this is edited is Jee-Hai) Then Troll invaded the conversation and all was lost. Lost! Back to my classes, though. On Mondays and Wednesdays I go for five hours straight, although that wasn't the case today. The next hour is an english class I'm taking with Kyle that covers representing nature in the 18th century. Mmmm...Wordsworths. Yes, that's plural. William and his doting sister, Dorothy. The professor is a bit school marmish, but, to coin a stolen line that applies so aptly to many things (my mother inclusive), when life gives you a school marm, make school marmalade.

I love that one, and it definitely deserves a line break. After that class -- my first upper-division class ever! -- I have my three hour drawring class. (For Bailey!) The prof seems endearingly anal. He's the artist who is clearly tired of dealing with business majors in drawing classes, and he wears red hi-tops. So far so good. Tomorrow I have my astronomy class, which will probably be huge and easy. But I'm really geared up for it in a grinning, juvenile way because Kyle, Roberta (Portland connection) and I went to OMSI* for their Star Party. That wasn't as glamorous/childish as it sounds; it was a smattering of amateur astronomers sharing their telescopes with whoever showed up. Apparently, in order to earn one's stripes as a gazer of stars, one must take on these lists of celestial bodies and spot all the items on the list. The guy I spoke to had the pin for a French guy's list...I think the name was Massier. Something like that.

Sara from across the hall distractifies me. I think I'm gone for now. Sketch pages forthcoming, though censored.



*Oregon Museum of Science and Industry aka Really Damn Cool Place

Howdy from Portland! For some reason, it's sunny, but I'm certainly not complaining. I've already done quite a lot: wandering around downtown, wandering around in Hawthorne, marching in a HUGE crowd in an anti-war protest, making cookies, sitting in a communist cafe...you know, Portlandy things. I'm finally unwinding a little. More later, Kyle and I are babysitting a cool kid at the library.

Good:
Kyle is feeling better
I'm done with my finals (I need to turn in papers, but that's all she wrote -- so to speak)
I'm leaving for Portland in 14 hours
Had a great eat session at Grab and Go with Marie, Sara and Katharine.
I'm finally not being a grumpy pain in the butt
Did I mention the Portland thing?

So I'm leaving soon. Posting will be very, very slim, as I'm not taking my computer. Happy Spring, yo.

PS. I had the worst Danish ever for breakfast today. With every bite I could hear a collective groan from Copenhagen.

My brain and I are at odds right now. I need to do my take-home final (I know, it's awesome) for my Lit class ASAP. I also need to photocopy an obituary and type up my notes for the Warner papers project. The old braineroo has decided to conveniently forget these things, instead opting to distract me with (in no particular order or preference) food, blogging, reading, writing, studying for other finals, messing around with my camera, going for walks, cruising the 'net, messing around with my other camera, visiting first floor, making tea, sitting in the sun distinctly NOT getting things accomplished, wishing I had some biscuits, talking to Aaron while he's stoned, contemplating my sudden affinity for the Naked brand of juice, reading the comics, fussing over Kyle (who is feeling better, but isn't entirely herself again), talking to hallmates, going to Ben and Jerry's, composing haikus about feet in my head, calling people I haven't spoken to in a while, trying madly to figure out what I'm going to do this summer, playing with magnetic poetry, half-assedly shifting the recycling pile, and, of course, procrastinating. Yeah. Needless to say, I haven't been as productive as I'd originally planned. If I used my day planner, my day would be planned thusly:

10:00 -- wake my ass up
10:30-11:15ish -- eat
11:15-noon: make myself presentable, brush up on german vocab, gather studystuffs to meet Will at Espresso Roma for a study session.
Noon-1 or 2ish: Study with Will.
1 or 2ish - 4:00 -- study history.
4:00 -- Timberline meeting
After Timberline: eat

after that: type up warner notes and do lit final.
Sleep, probably around 11.

What a joke. Here's how it all went down:

10:15ish -- woke my ass up, fussed over Kyle
11:00ish -- ate
Just before noon: hurried out of carson to meet Will because I'd gotten caught up in a lively conversation with Parker and his roomie, John.
noon -- noon:45: studied with Will. Drank coffee. Will left to do his Shakespeare paper, and we figured the material was pretty well covered.
Spent some time at Roma with Kyle. then we went back and laid in the sun doing and not doing studystuffs. This went on until 4ish.
4ish -- went to the timberline meeting, which got cancelled. But we didn't know that until we waited there for 20 minutes.
I lost track of what went on here. Not studying. Some summer job hunting. Some chatting with Areli. Other stuff too, but I don't really remember. It's hazy.
We ate.
And now I'm typing this. Time to actually work -- 9:09 pm. Good call, brain, you stupid bastard. Why can't you be more like the liver?

I inherited worrying from my mother. My dad gets worked up, agitated, anal, and assholish, but worried is a mom thing. Kyle's stomach is hurting with no real explanation. (Wouldn't it be great if one's body DID explain this stuff? Hi, it's Uterus. I'm going to be cramping in about an hour and a half. Why don't you take some Midol to nip that in the bud, eh? Or: Colon here. Don't worry about me. I'm just having some trouble with that crap food you got at the dining hall. Nothing serious. Shout out to the liver! LIVA FO' LIFE!)

Clearly, I am tired and wired.

Digital camera batteries may be a gigantic rip-off. I discovered that I can use four AA's instead of two massively expensive digi-cam batteries and save el dinero. I invested in some rechargable bat'ries yesterday. As such, a sudden influx of pictures. I'll post them, but I want to make a banner or something out of some of the good ones. I also want to get pictures of all of my friends and likable hallmates, more for my purposes, but posts-a-poppin'.

Wow. De-gen-er-a-ting. Ting!

It bears repeating that first floor rocks the house.

At this point, I really wish I were more spiritual than I am. I wish I could believe in something bigger than myself that we all belong to. My substitute for religion is a muddled structure based on optimism and love; when I get depressed or overwhelmed or lose my momentum, it's difficult to keep that tenuous card castle that is my faith from blowing away. I don't want to say that religion and spirituality are cop-outs -- they aren't. They're integral parts of billions of lives. Mine included. I simply don't have the spiritual stamina to keep my chin up when Carrie has cancer and my cousin is ill with who knows what.

It's difficult to enjoy the satisfaction of finishing papers and the termination of the term. I can't say I've known Carrie long or in significant depth, but the beauty of the Steller community is such that I didn't have to. Before I met Carrie, I knew all about her. I cheered when she went to Florida because they have an excellent music school, again, before I met her -- news from Areli, mostly. Now I'm not sure what to think. Am I allowed to be this way?

And I wish to god that I could get the image of my coz, sitting in his room doing nothing with a forlorn scowl on his face -- doctor's orders.

I've been feeling so awful lately on top of all of this. Old befuddlements are coming back again, and despite their name, they're no good. They're draining. They're depressing.

I caught myself wanting to go back to Anchorage the other day. Thing is, I don't. I want to go back to the state DDF tournament or Solstice, but not Anchorage. I'm not sure I can go back to Anchorage.

Ahhh. My J201 paper is finally finished. I am essentially finished with that class; the curtain closes when I turn in my pape tomorrow and play a cute little game of Stump the Prof, asking my prof and GTF questions about the media for extra credit. If it's anything like the J201 poetry slam (ho-boy...), class will be short. And I will laugh all the way to the used bookstore. They'll pay cash, even if the book isn't worth it. It's not worth a handful of beans. I would honestly take a fist full of legumes over John Vivian's The Media of Mass Communication. So glad this class is nearly over.

I didn't blog on it earlier, and I'm probably not going to blog on it much because it's breeching someone else's privacy as opposed to my own. But I found out over the weekend that my cousin (remaining unnamed, of course) is in poor health. He has epilepsy, or something like it, but that is such a difficult disease to diagnose and treat. Epilepsy and epilepsy-like conditions are often extremely hard to distinguish. My cousin, who is 7 months older than I to the day, has something like epilepsy, and his seizures have been increasing. A neurologist told him to drop his classes (he's studying anthropology at UAA) and move out of his dorm. He's under orders to stay calm and take it easy. Thing is, all the stuff he enjoys (Japanese anime, drum and bass techno, track and field -- specifically sprints) is designed to get his heart rate going. I understand that this calmness edict is temporary, but I don't want my coz to be rendered vegetable-ish because of what the doctors say. Just had to get that out. It's been on my mind. I've known the guy for as long as I've been alive. He's nutty, sure, but I don't want him to be unhappy in any way. Some of my earliest memories involve running around in our grandparents backyard with him, playing some nonsense about Tom and Jerry (our favorite of all the moldering videos our grandparents let us watch -- the rest were musicals like The Wizard of Oz and Meet Me in St. Louis) or kickball. Oh, and we'd always mess with the neighbors' funky lawn ornaments. Canada geese, of all things.

Lo! I procrastinate like the mighty oak!



Errr...yes. So, general update. The wedding was, as I mentioned, lovely. There's no marriage on the horizon for me, but this was the sort of ceremony I'd like to have. Very relaxed, original vows, outdoors, and small. Small is good. I met some Rothmans for the first time, too. My great uncle Frank, a former professor and dean at Brown, was a riot. The weather was beautiful and I got back in time to write papers and put on a German skit. Weatherly speaking, Eugene is having a nice little sunny spell. It feels like spring to the Oregonians, and it feels like July to me. Ahhh. And as soon as I develop pictures, I have some nice family shots I'll put up, more for storage purposes than anything else, but if you're interested, I haven't changed the guest password. My cousin and his wife were so happy, and I have a couple of my immediate family, my aunt dancing, etc. Oh. Heh. Thanks to the obligatory wine, (Rothmans drink wine. If I don't acquire this skill by 21, I'm no longer family. That's just how we rationalize it is.) I actually got out onto the dance floor. The dance-phobia may yet vanish. Maybe.

I'm putting off a couple of papers right now; they're more or less under control, but that doesn't change the fact that I should be doing something else. Yeah. Should.

This term is almost over, thankfully. After this, I have no intentions of enduring classes that bore me. Speaking to a professor of my cousin's (who in a strange sort of way got him and his wife together) gave me the resolve to not put up with any garbage the honors college and various pre-recs put me through, but to maintain everything on my plate until it becomes clear that something MUST go. This guy, a photography guru no less, was clearly a good mentor to have (and a good dancer to boot -- he and my aunt actually jitterbugged.) His advice will be stashed away with everyone else's, though. The last thing I need is ANOTHER set of two bitses thrown into my line of fire.

My literature final is a TAKE HOME FINAL. Beautiful.

UPDATE: I'm almost done with one of my papers, so a break is necessary. Positive reinforcement and all.

Fifteen minutes later...I just wrote a tirade about how dorms make girls into third graders (with more beer), and that prospective suitors should be aware of this, but it was way too crass. It got away from me and took me to a point where I was either a total prude or a total hypocrite. Not wanting to be either, I deleted. Now I'm sort of at square one again. I suppose I could still try to rant about the puffery and showing-off that just went on in our hallway, but now the topic seems stale.

Speaking of hypocrites, Salon.com did a thing about Marty Beckerman and he got panned by readers in a follow-up. In truth, it was a terrible interview, and I know Marty is more articulate than that, but I do agree with some of the reader's comments about his content. He appeals to prudery by saying that kids are having too much sex, booze, tobacco, debauchery, and fun. Gee, a generation of young people experimenting with sex and substances...how unheard of! Does anyone see the irony in the fact that he is published by MTV? He didn't exactly score points with me by implicitly comparing himself to Fitzgerald and Ellis, nor by stating flat-out that his purpose at that point was the naked ambition of being a 21 year old published writer. I promise I'll never spout my Marty-spleen again, but I'd like to conclude with the fact that I can't respect him because he used being an asshole to springboard himself to success. And now the topic will never again come up on my blog because any and all further thoughts are just rationalizations of my jealousy. Damn that published little...

Back in one piece, although I don't feel that way. Discombobulated is the word for me right about now. More on the trip later, but I have only two things to say: The wedding was a truly beautiful ceremony. (and) I have sunburn. Pigment! ROCK ON!

sleep now.

Not only do I hate air travel because I have an awful fear of flying, I also hate air travel because it involves so damn much WAITING. In airports. Airports are designed to be the worst places to wait ever. They provide the most essential things (for a price), but it's all so sterile. Especially post 9/11. Safety scissors society. It makes me uncomfortable, and lately tends to cause lots of coffee drinking on my part. I'm not sure why -- usually, I'm not so gonzo on the coffee. Although Espresso Roma makes a mean cup. Mmm. The thought of Espresso Roma and its fabulous selection of pastries sidetracked me. This place rocks. I worked at a cafe/bakery for almost 2 years, and if I can find pastries that don't make me want to jump off a bridge or vomit then I'm doing pretty well. These are delicious. Nothing like the mass-produced Europa mumbo-jumbo. Wow. I digressed quite a bit there.

Back to the wedding, though. My cousin is one of my biggest heroes, and has been since forever. If he were getting married in Siberia, I would go. At this point, travel anxiety and parental crap is getting to me, so I'm trying to balance out the cons with some major upsides. Mostly non-nuclear family related upsides. Although my mother did offer to take me clothes shopping, which is usually an ungodly ordeal (Adam, if you're reading, feel free to back me up on this)...but I'm beginning to get a little more raggedy around the edges than usual. The cheap college student instinct kicked in when she made her pitch: "Free pants? Sweet!"

In the meantime, I have little else to offer y'all with the bloggity. I won't post again, in all reality, until Monday or Tuesday. So take care, and feel free to use the comments thread to rant, rave and roast.

I began the last post with "I'm getting really sick of the news." Now it's just the getting really sick part that applies. Waking up this morning was a chore. I couldn't swallow for a while -- that was unpleasant. I've been fighting a sore throat and related head coldy things all day, and of course, today is the day the uterus decides to go terrorist on the rest of me. Thanks to a hefty dose of vitamins, sudofed, and ibuprofen, things were under control for a bit (and it was SUNNY!) However, the magic of the pills is wearing off, which just makes me bitchy. I'd take another pill cocktail, but I'm afraid that the sudofed will keep me up all night. Since I'm voluntarily avoiding the pain killers, I really have no right to complain. Okie dokie. Health rant over. And I'll save the additional "I don't want to travel while I'm sick boo hoo" for some other time. The whining in my head is enough for me, and probably everyone else.

On the completely awesome side of things, I got all of the classes that I wanted. The physics class filled up before I could get to it, so I put the back-up science credit (astronomy, which is apparently interesting and easy -- and relevant! Mars was leaky!) in there instead. Everything worked out wonderfully, as I'm hardly crying about not taking physics. I gots my 10:00 german to start the day, then Nature in the 18th C (with Kyle! we're taking a class together!), and three hours of drawing. This is going to be awesome.

You may (or may not) notice that there aren't any honors college classes in that schedule. I'm going to take a break from that and see what happens.

My bonehead J201 class is drawing to a close, and it's really too bad that the GTF didn't get as much lecture time as the Prof. I know that's how it goes, but the professor was a windbag, and the GTF was cool. They passed back the second round of papers today, and Seth (the GTF) pulled me aside and told me my paper made him mad. I didn't say anything -- who knows how to react to that? I must have looked apprehensive; he quickly said that it was because he had to look up a word while reading my paper. This easily made my day. Later, out of curiosity, I emailed him, asking what the word was. The reply: "you would ask me that. :)

sitting here in the law library, exhausted and brain-dead from hours of writing, I can't remember. But I think it began with an "a." I could tell you if I saw the paper again..." This guy is a much better speaker than our professor, who tends to bluster. oh well.

Dubious academic triumph: The honors college put me on the "Director's list" -- equivalent to the Dean's list, I guess. Thing is, I don't care. Again: oh well.

I'm getting really sick of the news. Another day, another country invaded. What, we're up to three for this administration alone? Another day, another absolute SHOCKER that this fundamentalist country doesn't want gays getting married! Another day, another horse race election story. Another day, another revocation of our civil liberties. Then there's the litany of pundits that I once listened to (or heckled) -- they've lost significance to me now because they're just nit-picking over news carcasses. Maybe I'm embracing jadedness, but I don't have the energy to chase down every outrage the mill churns out. I didn't even watch the Oscars. I worked on my Christopher Marlowe paper. I'm not sure if this means I'm losing my curiosity and zeal, or if I'm just getting swamped. Pretty sure it's the latter, but we'll see.

My trip to Arizona looms. Suddenly, I'm not at all looking forward to it. Going to see my family means I'll have to deal with my family, and at this point, even a call home depresses me. My parents and I don't know how to deal with each other. It's awkward, and inevitably falls to the old patterns that drove me insane in the first place. The worst part is that right now, my life is in complete limbo. I don't know what I'll be doing three months from now. I have no home (not in Anchorage, and certainly not this dorm), just a hometown. Every vapid asshole in my classes undermines my sense of accomplishment. (The degree I get will be the same degree handed to Jack McAsshat and Tiffany Paidfor come 2007. This is why I'm considering staying in the honors college. It's so sad, but I want elitist distinction. There. I said it.) ARGHHHH. I'm disconnected, self-absorbed and full of contradictions.

On the plus side, I register in 30 minutes.