BIG INHALE BIG EXHALE. I am in love with so many things. The bike ride I just took through Eugene left me wobbly from endorphins and whatever it was that woke up my lazy muscles. This town is fabulous. It had more theatres in three blocks than Anchorage has period. It has blocks open only to pedestrian traffic. It has alleys. My continuing obsession with alleys is on fire. Little sidestreets and backways are everywhere, invisible to auto traffic. Downtown, franchises are just as squeezed into small, old buildings as the local shops. There is little visible corporate dominion. A&W probably had to fight for that location as much as Cafe Xenon had to fight for its own.

Naturally, I'm in love with Kyle. Today was an inpromptu "Shower Kyle with Affection Day" -- all systems go on that. Thanks to the wonders of the internet, I can time my local activities with packages arriving. Still, she deserves far more...

Phoooo. I love adrenaline and endorphins and all that hormone-y goodness that's giving me this awesome boost. Forgot about that nice "I just exercised" feeling.

I'm head over heels for the Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys soundtrack, which took me forever to track down. And by track down, I mean search every record store I could find, then give up and order online. Online shopping gets a nod here, but not quite the level of love. In fact, all of these loves are gradiated. I think the hierarchy is pretty obvious.

The impending paper-writing isn't exactly a love thing, but I should probably do some outlining or something.

ADDED LATER: Chemistry is nearing the island of stability and I'm envious.

This is bizarrely hilarious.

So I have a paper to write and a paper to start this weekend, but no topic ideas for either. Something lackadaisical has crept into my work ethic and set up a pup tent. No motivation here. Kyle points out that it IS a friday night, but I've had weeks to come up with a topic for these suckas. Now she says to stop my whining. Which is just as well. I should. I actually have an idea or two for the one that is due on Tuesday -- for lit. The history paper remains elusive. That class is elusive. I get the impression that I'm doing well, but I don't have much of a grade outside of participation points and the project I did today. (Oy to the project, by the way.)

Zara, Bailey, Soph and Katie can all expect things in the mail reasonably soon. Bailey and Zara are long overdue anyhow.

Here's the latest on my academic confusion: I'm opting for an english major with an art minor. More on this as it develops.

UO beat "Cal" (which I now know means Berkeley -- thanks Meg) tonight. Yet the hall has not truly erupted in noise and revelry. Something must be amiss. Midterms, perhaps.

Watched "Shakespeare in Love" with parts of the English department tonight. That's a really cute movie. The sad ending doesn't seem quite so sad -- I'm not sure what to call that -- and it reminds me of some French movies that I've seen. The hero gets thwarted, but everyone's okay with it, including the hero.

I had my first open darkroom session today. Even though I didn't produce anything satisfactory (this isn't obnoxious modesty -- there were technical issues thwarting me), and I got a little bit frustrated with that, it was so great to be in a darkroom again. Totally detached from everything, doing only what I want to do. The instructor is really helpful and extremely knowledgable. I can see myself spending a lot more time in the craft center.

Meanwhile, back in reality, my history group has not been able to coalesce in any way. The whole mess ended with me volunteering to do a larger portion that I should have to ensure that things actually get done. No, idiot boy, we can't do this entirely online. No, we can't put this off until tomorrow. In case NO ONE HAD NOTICED, this project and presentation is due this friday. Some honors college this is.

And finally, I think I'm getting sick. But all of this is overshadowed by the developer fumes clinging to my fingertips, and all that they represent.

Pope + break-dancing = sheer comedy. The picture alone is to die for.

So there's a new email virus in town. Watch yourself. Known as "MyDoom," it is the fastest spreading e-mail worm ever, according to Network Associates, the Santa Clara, Calif.-based maker of McAfee Antivirus software. The company classified it as a "high alert," its most severe status level. Mydoom is wreaking havoc with businesses and home computer users, said Steven Sundermeier, product manager for Central Command, an anti-virus company in Medina, Ohio. Sundermeier said the worm is spreading fastest in the United States and Europe. The virus spreads in an e-mail message that looks like it was garbled during its journey to the recipient's in-box. The body text urges recipients to click on the attached file if the contents of the message are damaged or unreadable. The virus launches when the attachment is opened.

On the homefront, I'm still whirl-winded by doubts and such, but it's looking more and more like I'm going to scrap journalism in favor of something I legitimately enjoy, like literature, history or art. Or a double major. Or some minors. Something like that. And I plan to drop the honors college like a ton of moldy potatoes.

I SAW A RACCOON TODAY! They are so damn cute.

Precisely how much can I edit myself in a single day? Tell me, how many times will my three second filter kick in and tell me not to do or say something? Sometimes, like now, I'm about ready to scream at my little plan. The plan, in its best loose outline, is to become some sort of journalist at some sort of magazine, perhaps leading into an advanced degree and professorship in visual communication. But I don't feel like playing this game. I'm too caught up in the details -- credit counts, living quarters, people, people, people. Lately, I've been fluctuating between total immersion in the ivory tower's moat and jumping out with a big "fuck this!" I don't want the life of a scholar and the snooty stigma and/or intellectual enigma. Nor do I want to be a journalist and sell my soul to a media conglomerate. And joining up with some alternative grass roots rag sounds like a dead end. Fun for a while, maybe, but not a direction. The nagging thought of diverting into studies of literature and photography comes up, but where do I go from there? Journalism is the easiest way to combine writing and taking pictures, and that's ultimately what I want to do. The easiest path might not be the right one. In fact, it probably isn't. But...I...it...gah. Maybe counting on a direction at all is my problem.

Not related to current events, I swear:
I found this on a conservative blog I browsed through. It's part of one of General Patton's speeches, circa 1944. "Men, this stuff that some sources sling around about America wanting out of this war, not wanting to fight, is a crock of bullshit. Americans love to fight, traditionally. All real Americans love the sting and clash of battle. " Is this why I've been feeling so contentious, restless, and snappish lately? Because my inner revolutionary is itching to smack someone? It's not entirely impossible. Chances are, I've needed to smack someone for a long time. Physical fighting aside, maybe I need to stop surrounding myself with the most agreeable elements I can find. Stop burying myself in books and liberal outrage. The fight I need might involve part of me duking it out with other parts. That would explain this overwhelming desire to take up clove cigarettes (that and they smell good) and pick fights with my hallmates and bike through Mackenzie hall at top speed and enjoy myself at someone else's expense.

'Course, I'm just as much American as I am any other identity. Maybe the answer lies with militant papers and dissertations that slash the status quo to shreds. Or shave my head and wear too much flannel and dyke it up just to get in people's faces. Or start chewing granola like amphetamines and preach tree love. Or embrace my Hungarian roots with a big pot of goulash. Or become a first grade teaching copy of my mother. But I doubt it. I doubt all of these, except maybe the clove cigarettes bit.

Alienation has been the theme of the week. From inflammatory and embarrassing memes on the whiteboard in the bathroom to parental arggghhhs to the realization that I've gotten suckered into ranting all the time and not really posting on anything that is personal. Call the last one the influence of all the damn talking heads I've been reading. The second one? That's nothin' but the sweet sounds of my mother's thinly veiled criticism. She's worried that I'm not having enough fun -- failing to realize that I AM having fun. I'm just not having typical college fun. At the top of the list, well, I won't elaborate, but I'll chalk it up to the tempers and tensions of living in a dorm situation that drives so many to sheer immaturity. I'm trying so hard to not take cheap shots or lose my cool. SO HARD. In fact, I'm trying not to lose my cool in general.

Paradoxical supreme: If I try to make people happy with what I do, I go neurotic from the constant conflicts of interest and crises of conscience. Conversely, if I just say fuck 'em, I isolate myself and get lonely. Gauging from my experience so far, I've treaded the line just enough to make the parents of old friends to think I'm an independent spirit, but remain true to my neurosis. Must. Relax.

Mantra: People will think ill or well of me regardless of what I do, so I should do what I think is right.

Mantra: My mother is my mother. Not my guidance counselor. (If she were my guidance counselor, would I listen anyhow?)

Mantra: There's nothing wrong with not partying myself blind.

Mantra: I am an adult. Therefore, I can do whatever I want. Maybe I'll go to prison, but it's nice to know that my options are open.

Mantra: I will not be afraid to say what's on my mind.

Mantra: Insecurities are natural.

Mantra: Ommmm.....

Those folks of mine in Anchortown treat me so well when I'm off on my college adventure. They sent me cooking utensils, banana bread (mmmmm....) and my new glasses. Oddly, my last paycheck from Europa has yet to make an appearance. I'm going to call or email them or something. I wants me money.

In Regards to the State of the Union: If that smirking chimp gets re-elected for another term, I'm going to endeavor to spend as much of said term as possible overseas. And that's that.

I'm printing out the application for UO scholarships. Those cheap bastids better give me more money next year. They're GOUGING the out of state students like HELL. It's not our fault that Oregon is in the financial toilet -- although it makes moer sense to raise revenue through us and try to keep local students in-state with the cheapness. This best-of-both-worlds strategy works reasonably well in all states (except for Alaska -- the UA system is...dubious in places). It works best, however, in states with well-funded, reputable schools. Ones that give ALL students some hope of scholarship rewards.

And it's the biggest freaking bureaucracy. I hate this.

Ahh. Nothing like venting a little spleen to REALLY inspire one to blog. That, by the way, was sarcastic. I don't feel like making social contact. The latest in a stream of annoyances from my hallmates and various other external sources are beginning to wear on my sunny disposition. Not only do I not feel like making social contact, I don't feel like elaborating, either. Meh. I have a really busy day on Tuesdays, and souring toward the world as a whole doesn't usually help that sort of thing.

However, I will throw my two bits in about Iowa and the State of the Union and MMMMMMars (albeit quickly -- I have to leave for class soon). Iowa surprised us all, except maybe Edwards' campaign manager. Kerry and Edwards both played their cards well, and though it isn't a popular concept in the blogrolls (and maybe that's why I like it), I think a Kerry/Edwards ticket would kick some serious Bush. Dean and Clark didn't surprise me in the least. Part of my political barometer hinges on how well a candidate can deal with ludicrous media attacks -- or how well they can avoid accruing said attacks. I don't think it would be going out on a limb to say that Dean's fall was partly due to negative media influence, which only aggravated his foul, foul temper. Really, his temper was a draw for me. I'm not the coolest head out there. Clark is, in my view, too moderate to stand a chance. He's Republican Lite. Maybe the good old boys who grew disenchanted with Bush and the whole bleeding heart pack of liberals would go for him, but I'm not so sure. Gephardt, I think, is making the right choice. I'm waiting for Kucinich and Sharpton to follow suit.

State of the Union: blah blah Saddam Huessien blah blah blah blah Medicare blah blah blah blah sanctity of marriage (perhaps a Saddam-Sodom joke) blah blah blah blah freedom blah blah blah liberty blah blah blah blah I'm lying to you blah blah blah God Bless America.

Mars rover: It's the biggest news since...uh, guys? Guys? We're on ANOTHER PLANET! Would you mind, you know, paying attention and not shouting on about pie-in-the-sky crap about Moon Bases for Bush?

Now that the mystery and intrigue has died down a bit, I can get back to mundane things like my life and my rants. Although this little Jones issue raises the eternal internet dilemma: Do I really want the whole world to read my life? I'm still posting, so I guess I do. Call me a shameless exhibitionist. Or at least a show-off.

In other news, I'm considering a template shift. Altering the format of this blog experiment. It would give me something to do, and it can't hurt to be a little more net savvy. To that end, if anyone knows whether or not Movable Type is any good, give me a shout.

Shit-o-lux. The heater, a relic from the 50's, is making the weirdest noises ever produced by any member of the HVAC family. It was like a flatulent motorcycle gearing up a sheer cliff face. That was...frightening.

And for your edification and education: a rant.

WHY I AM ROOTING FOR THE PATRIOTS IN THE SUPER BOWL

It's quite simple. I don't want to have anything to do with the Carolinas. Granted that Bailey, one of my best friends from forever ago, was born in the Southern one, but I still would rather avoid the rest of that mess. Personally, I think Bailey and that whole Kitty Hawk thing are the ONLY worthwhile parts of the Carolina region. And now Bailey's in Florida, so really, they don't have anything but a broken down old biplane. Don't sell the bike shop, Orville.

Why, you may ask, do I so vehemently avoid both NC and SC? If you look in my closet back in Anchorage, you will see a politely folded, powder blue North Carolina sweatshirt. This shirt, as well as the nice-but-not-my-style-or-my-size sweater below it, are courtesy of my aunt and uncle who live in NC. In Podunksville Flats. Boonie County. Noth Caruhlyyyynuh. My uncle is the reason I can't stand the Carolinas. My aunt is cool, as is my current Carolinan cousin (as cool as a surly 14 year old girl can be...), but I cannot stand my uncle. He's loud, obnoxious, and grating. He's pigheaded and bullying. And now his team -- HIS team -- is going to the super bowl. So I say with all my lung-power and typing-power, "GO PATRIOTS!"

If Philly had won, then I'd've tossed a coin, or gone for the underdog, or figured out some vague system of loyalty. Gauging, for instance, the number of people I know or know of in Philly versus the number of people in New England. The college exodus sort of tilts that toward New England. Just to be contrary, though, I coulg pick up the Eagles banner. Doesn't matter. The Bears aren't in there, so I don't have too much loyalty in any camp. And the Cowboys or the Raiders aren't playing, so I can't root for whoever's up against them. I tend to be pretty arbitrary when Super Bowl Sunday rolls around.

But the Panthers had to show up, so I am no longer bipartisan. Go Patriots, and good night.

AN OPEN LETTER TO M.S. JONES OF ANCHORAGE

Thank you very much, but I'm a little puzzled as to your identity. I realize that if you are kind enough to send me these books, you probably mean no harm. I also realize that you are REALLY kind to send these books period. But I feel like I'm at a loss for any Joneses in my memory banks that I know personally. If you are reading, which seems to be the only way you would know what to purchase, please drop me a comment. I'd like to thank you properly.

Yours sincerely,
Erica

I just received a couple of packages from an "M.S. Jones" in Anchorage containing a significant number of books. A wonderful and thoughtful gift, to be sure. All of the items Jones sent me were on my little wishy list, too. But...who is M.S. Jones? The billing address is a PO box. This is really one of those speechless wow-moments, but...who is M.S. Jones? I'm afraid that I'm forgetting about someone important to me or my family -- just blanking on a friend of the family who has known me since the diaper days. Thing of it is, I don't know very many Joneses. There are a couple Joneses that work with my father, and some Joneses I know vaguely from school, but...no one who would send me over $50 in books. Not to mention, the question of how Jones got my address is a wee bit distressing. Not to look a gift horse in the mouth or anything, but I want to know who Jones is, so I can thank him or her and not be so confused about all of this.

So...yes. An evening of intrigue.

Edit: Until I find out who Jones is, the link to my Amazon wish list is coming down.

This has been circulating pretty widely, and I have to say it's disgusting. Look at what Karl "still a lying sack of crap" Rove said! To paraphrase: The media, particularly the newsmedia, has one job -- to sensationalize, hype, sell and even lie to keep people interested in what we tell them the truth is. Granted that this DID come from a gossip column, so it's got a license (more or less) to be unsubstantiated. But even if this is a gross manipulation by the librul mee-dee-uh to make Rove look bad, we, as the public and as media consumers, are being handled with safety gloves. The spirit of those remarks wafts around the White House like a halo of toxic by-products. Media corporations aren't blameless, either. Just watch the news or flip open a magazine. My journalism class (as candy-coated as FOX news, but with less blatant spin) calls it infotainment. I believe Homer Simpson coined that term. Or rather, I first heard the term from him. How's that for a sad state of media affairs?

The polar opposite of Jessica Lynch (or Jessica Lynch's media persona) is fighting for his dignity. Can anyone say they would be the same after seeing a mutilated corpse in the midst of a gun battle? What about his CO, telling him to "get his head out of his ass"? Where's the brotherhood of the army? I know for a fact that my reaction to combat would be at least of this magnitude, if not more so. The US military seems to be churning out an abnormal number of soldiers screwed by their system. Really makes me want to pledge MY allegiance.

Got a hair cut today. It's rather shorter than I would have wanted, but there's little I can do about it now. I'm in the process of starting a photo account, so I hope to have pictures of my relevant life soon. Maybe I'll scan some of the cutesy family shots of Dad, Mom, Adam and myself at the Grand Canyon, circa 1994. Erica at nine, Adam at four. Tune in next week, folks.

Oh, one more thing. Can ANYONE think of a Thursday song? Not just a song where Thursday is mentioned in a list of days, but a song with a more direct link to Thursday. Every song has a day except Thursday. Sunday Sunday, Manic Monday, Ruby Tuesday (or Tuesday Afternoon), "Wednesday morning at five O'clock...", It's Friday, I'm in Love, and the one for Saturday slips my mind. Saturday Night Live theme will stand in as a substitute. Areli and her dad's girlfriend foisted THAT doozy onto me, and I've been stumped since June. Help!

Another deviation from genuine news. Rather than emphasizing WHAT Howard Dean said in a recent Iowa caucus thang, the press chose to highlight HOW he said it. "Dean loses much-talked about temper" runs the headline (or something like that). And this is Reuters, for chrissakes! I'd expect this crap from FOX, but... "George Bush has done more to harm this county right here with unfunded mandates, standing up for corporations who take over the farmers' land, making it impossible for middle class people to make a real living, sending our kids to Iraq without telling us the truth first about why they went," Dean said.

"It's not the time to put up any of this 'love thy neighbour' stuff ... I love my neighbour, but I'll tell you I want THAT neighbour back in Crawford, Texas where he belongs."

After Ungerer [Dean's heckler] left the room trailed by reporters, Dean lambasted Bush for trying to cut overtime pay, calling it another reason he had "differed with the gentleman over here so vociferously."

"This is the president of the United States," he said. "I don't think that's being a good neighbour to ordinary working people."

His correct usage of the word "vociferously" is almost enough for my endorsement. Unlike Mr. "You have black people in Brazil, too?" President.

In Anchorage news, there is still no way to take a flattering photograph of Gov. Frank Murkowski. The man's chin is simply too flubbery. It seems that some legislators are finally waking up to the fact that a state that whose largest tax base (Anchorage) pays NO state taxes is in trouble. Gee whiz, guys.

Hopefully ending my little rant session, is the story on Paul O'Neill. Opting to show the White House what the word "candor" means, O'Neill said that when he sat on the National Security Council, he saw NO EVIDENCE of weapons of mass destruction in Iraq. I know I'm a little late on this story, but I think that it's interesting how the NZ Herald (obviously my favorite rag) phrased their lead-in, with the Bush administration "happily pouncing" on O'Neill. Pleasing to note that I'm not the only one who thinks the Bushies are a bunch of ravenous warhawks.

Right. Rant session complete. Commence other topics.

I started The Autobiography of Malcolm X as told to Alex Haley yesterday. I'm already about a quarter of the way through it and I cannot put it down. This man did more with sixteen years of his life (at this point, he's younger than I am and already he amazes me) than I could ever hope to accomplish. So far, this book gets three thumbs up. It's just so compelling. Kyle and I also embarked on the movie "Gandhi" last night. We're about halfway through it, and it's also really good. Ben Kingsley is the greatest Gandhi ever, except for, you know, the real one.

Interesting how people manage to link themselves online (pun sadly intended) and one person can so easily and serendipitously find another through mutual friends. Sometimes it gets frightening.

The airfares from Eugene to Phoenix just went down $70. God bless travelocity. My awesome cousin (first link, I believe) is getting hitched this spring and dead week be damned! I'm goin' to Arizona!

So Bush wants to send us to the moon, and subsequently Mars. That's great. Distract us further from the domestic trouble that he has caused. Get the American public to look up at the stars when looking across at our schools or health care facilities rot. Unite us under the banner of exploration as we sink into national debt. There's really no excuse for this tactic. This is a purely political manuever that the Dubious Dubya and Karl "lying sack of crap" Rove cooked up. No doubt called "Operation: Shiny Object" in White House circles.

Kyle and I met an uber-exuberant puppy yesterday on a walk.

Topic surfing, I know. I'm a little bit spacey today.

There's vomit in our bathroom (not mine). It needs to not be there. Ahhh, college.

More interesting stuff pending. Pending my doing something more interesting.

Mein Grossvater hat geschreibt mich in der Deutsch. Es ist sehr hübsch gewesen. Ich habe ihn (in der Deutsch) geschreibt. Wir habe das Wetter gesprocht.

My grandfather wrote me in German (via email). It was very cute. I have written him back (in German). We [mostly] talked about the weather.

I can't really focus this evening. Glad I don't have anything to do, really. Otherwise, I'd be very much in the counter-productive "ooh! distraction!" mode while not accomplishing a damn thing. But I don't have anything pressing to do, so...

US still a bunch of fatties, says the NZ Herald, but Europe is catching up. Except for France, because they smoke too much. Seriously, though: With the trendy "healthy lifestyle" schtick in full swing, you'd think that people would be more apt to trim down. Ah. I caught the catch just as I typed that out -- it's a TREND. You join a program or take a class for a couple months, shave off a layer or two, then it ends or you quit and it's a quick road back to Poundsville. Maybe I'm a little extra-sensitive about this because of the college culture, where looks are still pretty much everything (what the...I thought I was OUT of high school!). Or because I live across from the student rec/health center. Or because I live in the land of starch and blimpage, also known as the dining halls. The trendiness of exercise, though, is unrelated to the prevalence of fat Americans in my mind. Our culture, perhaps more than any other, emphasizes getting more for your money, effort or time. Really, just getting More. More food, clothes, sex, property...it's a shitstorm of consumerism and control complexes. The American Dream, you know, white picket fence and all that, is obsolete; the house isn't big enough, the land isn't worth enough and the fence isn't high enough. Now Europeans are getting fat too. Globalization, anyone? And while we're on the subject of globalization, why not send some of our supersized value combos with extra everything to people who are STARVING. Christ.

Who, by the way, would agree with me.

Please note the new link. If you haven't been to the hunger site yet, you still have time to repent. It's my browser's homepage now (though I may switch to the rainforest site) and it, or one of its sister sites, could be yours. I think it's the easiest way in the world to help other people. And for college bums with broadband internet, it takes less than a minute to hit all five sister organizations. So try it.

Eugene is giving Anchorage a serious run for the money in the "Most Ecclectic Weather" category. While old Anchor Townn has the extremes, sometimes varying up to 60 degrees in temperature on a single day (in the subzero region during winter, when people stop counting degrees and start counting frostbite wounds--think 4 or 5 years ago, guys), Eugene can't be beat for minimum elapsed time between weather shifts. Yesterday, it was so icy that some lily-livered Southerners could barely walk down the street without landing on the old ass-bones (this is not a jab at Meg, but the guy that was walking in front of me to Mackenzie -- he was all over the place, ground inclusive). Today, however, the sun is shining, it's a balmy 50 degrees out, and I ditched my coat after parting ways with Meg and my German class.

I'm off to shoot up a fallen tree (HUGE!) on the north side of the dance/PE building. Gerlinger hall. Great name. Trees like that just don't grow in Alaska. They're NEVER that big. And to see one felled by the ice is very sobering.

It also explains why trees like that just don't grow in Alaska.

If I'm trying to writein and fill a notebook a month, is that blog-inclusive or blog-exclusive? Probably exclusive.

I'm currently on break from reading the tales of triumph, adventure and adultery in Mort D'Arthur. I have a ways to go yet, and I've already been interrupted by a hall meeting, so I may as well pull out an update (or something akin to it). The meeting was pretty uneventful, except for the story Marc (the RA) told us at the end. So he and another RA are doing their rounds, and walked down a fire escape onto a floor, when lo! A naked guy bursts forth from the shower, holding a ferret for unknown reasons. Nude Dude spots the RAs and bolts, dropping the ferret, which races in front of him into a common area. Screaming ensues from the common area upon the entrance of both ferret and Nude Dude. The entrance of the ferret prompts a BB-gun toting, somewhat inebriated dolt to shout, "WEASEL!" and open fire. Three people got hit by BBs in the melee. Both Nude Dude and BB-dolt have been kicked out of the dorms and the university. The latter for the possession of a firearm; the former for the possession of a ferret. But the question is: Was he just washing his ferret, or what?

Erica's college recipe of the moment: Delicious Hot Beverage
Take one lemon and cut it in half. Squeeze the juice into a mug. Extract seeds and pitch 'em out. Fill mug to desired drinky-level with hot water. Top off with honey to taste and drink. Serves one or two, depending on how juicy your lemon is. How juicy is YOUR lemon?

No less confused or confounded by life, but uplifted by funny story, sumptuous beverage (which is good for colds, too), and the ever-lovely Kyle, who, to be overly and overtly sappy, makes every day wonderful with her very presence.

So I'm taking more or less the same schedule this term as I did last term. German, Literature, History, Journalism -- subjects I enjoy, but the honors college (them again!) ensure their place among my grievances by their limitings, stiflings, and mufflings. Don't worry, though. I'll bitch about other things too.

I'm even more unravelled about what I want to do with my university time here. It almost seems like I should have moved out and gone somewhere else to work or something, as opposed to diving into college ass over ears. Purposelessness in hardly my favorite feeling.

NPR is playing some twangy blues number that isn't relaxing me like the blues usually do. It's almost honky-tonk -- maybe that's it. My cowboy-intolerance is acting up. Is there a pill for that?

Does anyone have a link to the rover pictures? I really should be doing my German homework, but...the siren's song of the internet, she calls to me.

My open darkroom class starts on the 28th. I'm really excited; I haven't been in a darkroom since last summer with Mr. "annoying as all hell" Paulson. I have a roll of this crazy C-41 B&W film to develop. If it turns out well, I may keep using it. It's cheaper than T-Max and I can develop it anywhere. It's the poor man's black and white film, I guess. What will they come up with next?

Back in Eugene. Please forgive my typos -- I'm trying my hardest, but the flights and overall travel stress took it out of me in a big way. Just dropping a line. More later, and I'm still trying to figure out a way to post pictures for free somewhere. Soph, any ideas?