"It wasn't funny 'ha ha,' it was more funny 'boo-hoo, that totally sucked.'"
So, I've had some ongoing drama with my landlady over the past few months. She evicted my roommate in the beginning of December for not paying her rent, and hasn't been able to find anyone else to take her place. (Fortunately, I live in Provo, Land of Weird Leases, and have a nice, specific contract making it so my rent hasn't changed; I just don't use the other bedroom at all.) She told me a few times that she had a crazy person or two who was going to move in, thus freaking me out and purposely messing with my head, but nothing ever happened. A few weeks ago, she threatened to come and stay in the other room while she unloaded/loaded stuff, as she's in the process of moving from Nevada to Virginia. I couldn't really object (the downside of Provo the Land of Weird Leases), and tonight, she showed up. With her dog. And her parrot.
She talks a ton; I've heard tonight about how her husband sticks their other bird's head in his mouth (
geek, anyone?), how her neighbor is a naturally negative person liable to keel over dead any moment, how the construction on I-15 is inconveniencing only her, how moving companies make an effort to destroy her china, how the people here at city hall are completely incompetent... I think I'll have to take notes of her babbling so putting up with all of this will at least give me funny stuff to blog about. Or something. She said she'd only be here for two days; any bets on how long it'll *actually* be?
"Compadres, it is imperative that we crush the freedom fighters before the start of the rainy season. And remember, a shiny new donkey for whomever
brings me the head of Colonel Montoya." Hung out with my parents tonight, after dropping my car off at the dealership in Salt Lake because it decided to suddenly not function. Made them watch
New York Doll, which they enjoyed. It's kinda funny - I'm always proud of my parents when they expand their horizons a bit. It's like the time I brought home the bearded, long-haired voluntarily homeless hippie I was dating; I wasn't sure how they'd react, but they ended up liking him. Thus...
- "Wag of the Finger": Belinda Margaret.
- "Tip of the Hat": my parents.
"Pad thai knows what it did."
So after finishing my semester from hell, I really needed to get out of Provo, so the Buddy and I went to Salt Lake to see
Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin at
Kilby, and it was incredible. One of the best shows I've ever been to. Despite the fact that there were never more than a dozen people in attendance, and the show ended with maybe 5 of us in the room, the band had a great energy. They were tight and together and just...
on. Their harmonies were great, their chord progression was incredible... They even switched instruments halfway through their set - the bass player became the drummer, drummer became rhythm guitar, rhythm guitarist started playing bass.
I ended up buying a couple of their CDs (which isn't half as good as they are live) and a t-shirt (watch for it in the Today's T-Shirt Series),
partly because I could tell they were one of those poor bands reaching the end of their tour. They were so cute, talking about how the band fund was down to $10, and this would get them to their next show in Denver. We talked about how they're from this town that's a mecca for the
Assemblies of God and how they just graduated from
Drury University, so we had the whole Mormon and just graduated comparison. The Buddy even had a conversation with John Robert, the rhythm guitarist-turned-bass player, about the temple. Anyway, my point is that it was good, in no small part because we're both done (the Buddy's actually graduating, whereas I should be graduating, but am taking fluff classes over the summer and graduating in August). We ended the evening by getting a late-night breakfast, which is where this picture o' the Buddy was taken.
Oh, how I love being done with my semester from hell.
"Perhaps Marie couldn’t bear to let someone else have all the fun of possession, or perhaps she was merely susceptible to the power of suggestion..."
It is finished.
"This is the last multiple choice question and credit will only be give to those who answer honestly in the negative. Are you thinking of
Schrodinger's cat right now? (Those who are not honest or answer positively will be reported to the Honor Code Office.)
A. Yes, I am thinking of Schrodinger's cat.
B. No, I am not thinking of Schrodinger's cat, and that is the honest truth."Took my last final this morning, picked up my last paper for philosophy on which I got
another perfect score (so, I guess that means I can only write good papers if they're 5-10 pages long...?), and picked up my last paper from my research seminar. Talked to my prof for a while when I picked it up, too, and she's gonna help me with my letter of intent and grad school apps in general during summer term.
Finals count: 3 down, 1 (the thesis) to go.
"Wait, why do I get the girly gun?"
So, ever since I started dabbling in hockey, I've gotten frustrated when boys go easy on me and treat me like a girl instead of a hockey player. Turns out, I guess that's what I needed. Tonight at practice we were running plays and, well... either I need to get a lot more aggressive ASAP, or I need to be okay with being a girl instead of a hockey player. I think not feeling bad for taking out another player would be a good place to start.
Is it a sin to hate a
nun?
"In the ratification, it became
manifest that the line of cleavage for and against the Constitution was between substantial personalty interests on the one hand..." I did stuff this weekend, I think, and I'd blog about it, but I hurt. Instead, I shall simply continue my countdown: two down, two to go, and end with a picture of what finals are doing to me:
Ugh.
"I once broke up with someone because he had nubby thumbs."
So I was sitting in my living room, studying for my final for my research seminar, when Pitt knocked on my door, and asked if she could crash here for the night. I said yes, and since my plans consisted of studying and perhaps showering at some point, I changed my plans. We went to dinner at
Magleby's Grill and Oyster Bar, which I hadn't been to since they moved from their old ghetto location behind Days Inn to their new "posh" location next to Williams-Sonoma at Riverwoods. Ended up getting filet mignon, which I ordered "on the rare side of medium rare" (aka medium in Chicago) and it was perfect. Nice to be completely satisfied with dinner.
Anyway, so after our sojourn to Magleby's, we stopped by Ben & Jerry's to pick up a pint of yummy fattening stuff, which we brought back to my house and devoured while we cackled at TLC's What Not To Wear. We also discussed our family (what's hanging out with a cousin unless family gossip is involved?), and our dating preferences, as we both have completely different types. And, apparently, we also have our own versions of dating-deal-killers, as she breaks up with people based on digit shape. Me, I just don't get into the relationship to begin in.
"Les poules couvent souvent au couvent."
One down, three to go. I'm starting to think that maybe this semester from hell might actually end.
"The blonde boy is a loser!"
Had hockey practice tonight, and per usual, I loved it. Kinda depresses me that it took me so long to discover the goodness of playing hockey. Anyway, so after a great practice, despite my gimpishness, I came home to my cousin
Pitt who was crashing at my apartment for the night. After a long post-hockey shower, I was in my room studying and Pitt was on the phone with her boyfriend when my cousin
Spence stopped by to bring me some jewelry I'd ordered from
his company, and the three of us ended up talking for a while and going on a Beto's run. Spence ended up crashing at my place too, as he had a review session this morning at 8 and knew he wouldn't get up for it if we didn't help him. I must say, I'm surprised how much I'm enjoying having a full apartment, rather than an empty one. Also, in case it wasn't clear, I love hockey.
"Jerry, just remember: it's not a lie if you believe it."
Due to the gimp boot I'm wearing right now, people keep asking me what happened to my foot, and I don't really have a good answer, so I've decided to make one up. Unfortunately, I don't have the brainpower left to finish my "fundamentally flawed" thesis right now, let alone come up with an interesting story; at this point, I think I'll just tell people that I went to Rock 'n Roll Heaven and I wasn't on the guest list. Anyone have something I could use that's NOT a movie quote?
"Our summer romances are in full bloom, and everybody, but everybody's, in love. But cousins, here's a great song from The Four Seasons."
"I need my Mommy, and dammit, I don't care who knows it."
The week of suckitude continues... I hurt my right foot/ankle sometime last week, and today it was swollen and painful enough that I went to the doctor. He's not sure if it's a stress fracture or just a tendonitis thing (the X-rays weren't conclusive... argh), but I get to wear this funky boot thing for the next four or five days to see if that makes any difference. Of all the weeks for my parents to go to Japan...
"That look like hockey to you? To me it looks like two monkeys trying to hump a football."
Had the first practice for my hockey league tonight, and I think I improved more in that single practice than I did during my entire class earlier this semester. Of the 35-40 people playing in the league only two of us are girls, so I felt pretty conspicuous, but as my skill level was somewhere in the middle of the pack, it wasn't too bad. At least one thing this week didn't inherently suck; kind of sad that trying to beat people up on a frozen surface was the best thing I've done in a while.
"Dave, there comes a time in every friendship when you have to say, 'I never liked you; get lost.'"
So, I'm not sure if my blog has made this clear, but I've been really really stressed out lately, and I'm not dealing with it terribly well. Last night I was working on this paper (a veritable masterpiece with the winner of a title of "In
E=mc^2, E stands for Everyone") and ended up having this long, painful, pointless argument with a friend that was just irrationally escalating until we did that angry hanging up thing. Or at least, I was pissed. As soon as we hung up, I burst into tears. And I just cried for quite a while. And I'm not a pretty crier - I was bawling, making those horrific wall-shaking noises that one makes when one *really* gets going.
The loud sobbing occurred from about 3:40-4:00 a.m. and I figured that the odds of my housemates hearing me were slim, especially since they're above me, and there's usually not that much noise transfer. However, Sweet DW was up, and heard me, so she called. Fortunately, by the time she called I'd mostly stopped crying and was in bed (decided I'd finish the paper in the morning, as I certainly wasn't going to finish it through my tears).
She was really concerned about me, and offered to come sing me Blackbird, just like Em used to make her do when we went camping as teenagers. I promised her I was gonna sleep for the next couple of hours so I'd be okay for a little while, and she was temporarily appeased. She checked on me repeatedly today, too, and while things still bite the big one, I think I'm slightly less stressed. To reference a conversation I recently had with a friend in Clovis, non-disposable friends are invaluable.
"This essay is fundamentally flawed..."
Got back the first draft of my thesis from my advisor today. The feedback was not good. The title is a direct quote from the comments he gave me, and is one of the NICER things he said. I think suicide might still be an option.
"She just stopped by to remind me that my life is an endless purgatory, interrupted by profound moments of misery."
I can't believe the Cubs swept the Cards, but got thrashed by the Reds today.
This week sucks.
"Do they serve an orthopedic function?"
Today has been... a day. I registered for this rookie hockey league I'm gonna be playing in, which is good. It's quite too bad that the rest of my day sucked. I've somehow hurt my right foot (sprain? hairline fracture? no idea), so I'm all gimpy, which sucks (although I fully intend to play hockey anyway). I'm so stressed out my body is more than a little out of whack; sleep has once again become optional. To top it all off, the power supply in the ol' desktop fried today, and I had a few hours of trying to not completely flip out while contemplating suicide.
Sweet DW has informed me that we'll be watching
With Honors as soon as the semester is over.
"Don't water the plants; they're plastic!"
Couple of things from today: first, while listening to the ol'
Launchcast at work today, I realized that my ability to mishear lyrics is truly remarkable. You know that song, "Not An Addict" by
K's Choice? Turns out they're *not* saying "I'm automatic" like I'd thought for the last decade. It's amazing what knowing the name of a song will do for your knowledge of the lyrics.
Also, I decided that despite my inability to keep alive anything green (there's a reason I don't have a garden despite my intense love of cooking with fresh herbs), I'm going to try to grow a flower. Got a pot and some soil while shopping with Em last night, and I picked some seeds based solely on the picture of the flower. Turns out, I got nicotiana, which The Buddy informed me is also called flowering tobacco. Apparently, it has no nicotine content so people don't smoke it, but I'm considering waiting to plant it until after I graduate. You never know what might be an issue for this place.
"You know Jules, there is the brink of insanity and then there is the abyss, which obviously you have fallen into!"
It's official; I'm crazy. Took a short nap today, during which I had a dream about good ol' Marie de l'Incarnation, the 17th-century Ursuline about whom I wrote my thesis. We were sitting on a log in some forest, talking, but the only part of our conversation that I recall is me asking, "So... the plague was wreaking havoc in Tours and a sister in your monastery died, but YOU are the one suffering the agonies of hell because God hasn't talked to you in a couple of weeks?"
I need to get out more.
"Yes, I failed. But the important thing is that I finished what I started and I didn't cheat."
At T minus 5 hours 18 minutes, I'm finally done (as in printed, stapled, and stuffed into my bag) with my first draft of "Marie de l'Incarnation: Visions and Verities" (yes, it's JUST a working title). I may graduate yet.
"I've seen her dehydrate, sir. It's pretty gross."
Sweet DW picked up my all-nighter survival kit for me (pack of Diet Dr Pepper, bag of peanut butter M&Ms, bag of original Skittles) and as I finally opened the Skittles, I discovered something both new and disgusting: strawberry ice cream-flavored Skittles, which is a travesty, as it's replaced regular strawberry (my favorite flavor). The strawberry ice cream Skittle starts out as pleasant as the normal strawberry, but then takes on this insipid, nausea-inducing essence. Mars, Inc., what HAVE you done to my sublime strawberry Skittles?
T minus 11 hours.
"All I do is dream of you the whole night through; with the dawn I still go on, dreaming of you."
Had another dream this morning. I dream a lot, but usually they're too random to be worth mentioning, or they're too inappropriate to write about. My dream from this morning, though, was interesting, as again, it surprised me. It started in this building that was supposedly on campus, but doesn't actually exist. I was walking out of my philosophy class past some faculty offices, when I saw the name of my last boyfriend on one of the doors. So I knock on his door and we have this a very awkward, tension-laden conversation, and he tells me that when he finished his bachelor's at CalPoly in philosophy (that part is actually true; I would assume he's graduated by now) he decided to get a PhD and teach in Utah, a place that he hates. The rest of the dream was pretty much just me running into him, or us hanging out, or whatever other interactions occurred. I can't figure out why I had a dream about him, considering that I don't usually think about him. What I'm really trying to figure out, though, is why on earth I spent an entire dream feeling as completely unsettled as I did in that one.
T minus 23 hours to turning in the first draft of my thesis.
"'I want to help you... George Washington'? Man, even your dreams are square."
So, I had this dream this morning. I was hanging out with my extended family, surrounded by my cousins and aunts and such, and in my dream, I was married and had, I think, two children, which was odd because as we all know, I'm supremely comfortable with my current single status and I'm not sure if I want children at all. Anyway, so in my dream I was sitting in this living room, and my aunts were taking care of the small children, one of whom was my daughter. The aunts had decided they would put all the little kids to bed while the rest of us waited, and as I sat on the floor, I watched them carry this incredibly beautiful blonde two-year-old, who was apparently my daughter, down the stairs behind me, and I was really bothered because I was missing an opportunity to tuck her into bed. So I decide I'll never again miss the chance to be with my child, and just as I'm about to tell my aunts that *I'm* tucking her in, I woke up. I can't figure out why I had this dream or what sparked it, but the fact that I had it at all surprises me. I'm also surprised that it was enough to make me think that I apparently *do* like the idea of having children.
"Yes - happiness isn't happiness without a violin-playing goat."
So tonight I canceled this sort-of-date and ended up not making any other plans in favor of pretending to do homework (which I never actually did), taking a VERY long shower, and then going to Borders, where I picked up a Flecktones CD I didn't have but *clearly* needed, and where I also picked up a copy of
Two for the Road for Sweet DW. While snagging that, I browsed through the foreign DVDs to see if they had any of the flicks on my Movies To Buy list, and... they had one.
Un chien andalou, which is this great surrealist film from 1929. The best part? It was on sale, which is more than we can say for Borders' pricing on
Ma vie en rose.
