two bitses, please

So I want to join the rugby team really, really bad(ly? I think it's badly.) Let me lay it out on the line list style.

Pro:
-awesome, awesome people who I know I like
-physical activity -- given my metabolism and all the damn running they do, I'd be ripped by graduation
-from the sound of things, great parties
-away games = getting out of eugene

Con:
-I have no time.
subpoint -- I'd have to cut back hours at work (the dining hall -- no biggie, but less money.)
subpoint -- 20 credits + work + twice or thrice weekly practice + Saturday games = ?

I'm torn. I really want to go get my ass kicked and have fun. On the other hand, I don't want to die of busy-ness. This is hard. Y'all's thoughts?

In other news, halloween was amazing. John and I went as John Travolta/Vincent Vega and Uma Thurman/Mia Wallace from Pulp Fiction.

Weltverachtung weg!

My German lit class is kicking my ass less. Es gelingt mir! Ich gewinne! But let me back up. Mom always told me to keep my PMA (yes, that IS Positive Mental Attitude) in line -- there's some kitschy book floating around our basement about keeping the warm fuzzies close and the cold negative fuckers at bay. The thing's in cartoon form, illustrated by an Ed Emberley knock-off, and made a strong impression on me. Apparently it didn't have an overwhelming influence; I can't remember the title or author and I certainly have a hell of a time keeping my PMA even marginally intact. Lately our (more or less) weekly phone conversations have become PMA pep talks. There's a degree of mental toughness that I have yet to cultivate, so it's easy to get discouraged over the build-up of manageable annoyances and longer term woes.

The upshot: It's easier to feel sunny when I'm taking some pride in my scraped-together grade on the German miderm rather than looking at it grimly from the trenches. To say nothing of biking 8+ miles and getting my endorphins on.

Thing is, this goes in cycles, and they're often all too short. The blues strike, the coutner-blues strike, things level off, I get bored. Repeat. Mom says to be pro-active. Dad says he'll visit. They're both yes.

PS. The other blog is folding on account of 20 credits, 15 hours in the dining hall, darkroom, biking, and a partridge in a fucking pear tree. I's busy.

PS Jr. Comments are completely and utterly fixed, so start using them.

Adlai, Adlai, what do you say?

That's right. Sufjan concert tomorrow night. I'll learn once and for all how he pronounces that name of his. I've been going with the y-sounding j lately, and that seems to garner less scorn. Apparently the concerts are lushly orchestrated and whimsical in a blow-up Santa sorta way. I'm, needless to say, thoroughly stoked.

In other, significantly less exciting news, I'm likely changing my thesis topic. Feminist translation theory, though rich in dry, ivory towerish readings, isn't really my cup of tea. I'm looking to explore something in the cultural studies realm (see also: I have the chance to read comics or watch movies and be damned if I don't take it. Lolly, I may very well join your ranks. But no Ware for me, he's too much of a downer. Maybe translations of R. Crumb, if I still want to get my translation on.) Staring down the barrel of a thesis that I already know I'm not interested in makes for a bit of academic malaise. Out with the old.

Vermont was fantastic. Mountainous. Loving. Full. (and a little drunk)









The social life returns, albeit slowly. Hijinks are in the works. no major cooking adventures lately. Just chicken stock and a damn fine steak. over-n-out.