IA. German youth resistance to the Nazis. First choice. Condolences to people who have to redraw.. Rob, with his oh so popular topics of Mustafa Kemal, Vidkun Quisling and Nazi Norway, and the Soviet Purge Trials. (He was rather bewildered by this.) And congratulations to Hank who got the amusing "The Role of Iceland in World War II."

Our English orals were quite catastrophic today, being inhabited by Willis and Frank (two boys who don't talk), to the point where Ms. Barret asked (tactfully) if anyone would like to join the discussion group. I do feel sorry for Willis though because he seems to have some strange discussion-phobia thing going on- common sense would dictate that when a teacher asked you, "Would you like to comment on (such and such)" you'd at the least decline the offer, instead of sitting in mute silence for a few minutes. Maybe it's just really hard for him; he was going through the same discussion anxiety in physics today that I was going through in physics on Tuesday. The discussions are a lot harder than presentations because you can't really prepare what you're going to say ahead of time; it's like your own private seminar hell, or like someone's pitching baseballs at you for 45 minutes straight and you have to scramble to catch each one, or like balancing a pitcher of water on your head.

You know what? I still can't spell "incandescant." E... Angie.. e...

Gaaaarrrrrrr....

Apparently I have left Alex's copy of Room of One's Own at F. Scott Fitzgerald, and he is now entitled to my copy of ROOO unless he'd like me to buy a new one for him that's the same edition. My own copy is brand spanking new anyways, but it's just not the same.

I also owe Ranwa $6.

I feel like such a leech.

Acting is not such a great an art relative to reacting, that amazing ability of good actors to stand there with appropriate expressions on their faces while their co-stars are emoting. Anyone with decent hamming abilities can shout in anger or cry in despair, but it takes great(er) acting ability form an expression of utmost terror or the profoundest sympathy all while never saying so much as a word.

I have finally gotten my cummerbund and shirt for concert choir. Through some miracle, the first one (both shirt and cummerbund) I tried on actually fit, saving me the embarrassment of needing to order things in extra large.

At least we have no bow ties this year.

On the Top Ten Most Recently Updated Blogs:

Nick, the Irrepressible Bastard.

Congratulations! I've yet to see a peer on the list up till now.

Ideas rejected by medieval romance novelists:

Ivan Hou: The story of Sir "I Kirr You, Blian de Bois-Guirbelt! " Wilfred of Ivan Hou, the Chinese Saxon. God, just the prospect of a Chinese man named "Wilfred"...

Shuck n' Jive-n'-Ho: A medieval ethnic epic comedy about a young ghetto knight and the honey who loved him, and the mysterious man only known as the fun-loving, carousing Black Knight... wait. That already does exist. Please shoot me.

Wilfred's Game: the sci-fi adventure of a genius boy who is sent to a space station where he trains for knighthood in a zero-gravity jousting room and inspires loyalty and comaderie among his fellows. Written by the famed Sir Walter Scott Card. Hoo-ah. Oh, and he also battles aliens known as Buggers, which is much more profane because this is an English novel. Featuring a stirring rendition of "Jews in Space" by Isaac of York.

Ivan's Hoe: A Communist tract featuring Robin Hood and romanticizing the simple agrarian ways of medieval England. Oh yeah, and Russians. Lots of Russians. Ivanhoe becomes an unwitting agent of the Man, as, in the name of Richard the Lion-Hearted, he misreads the name "Plantagenet" as "Plant-a-Genet," resulting in the deaths of many a rodent stifled in the mud, hence exposing the academic snobbery and callous treatment of the proletariat, represented as rodents, by the elitist aristocarcy.

Um.

I think that this can be classified as one of those, "She is delirious and knows not of what she speaks" type blog entries.

Concert Choir rehearsal was a major waste of time.. spent most of the time sitting around in the lobby with other CC people while the other groups were rehearsing in the auditorium. Talked to Andrew about what he looks for in a girl, and he apparently looks for a carbon copy of himself, but female. Figures. Alex confided later that he thought Andrew was lying but I didn't see any reason why he would be or anything weird about the response. We spent our time bemoaning the lack of food, and making Jen squeak.

I need sheet music, because I spent most of the actual rehearsal time not knowing what to sing and just burning up under the stage lights.

Concert choir is so sucky, myself included. (Sopranos are distracting and have all the melodies and need to be strangled.) It's rather discouraging, because I joined for the social aspects, but it turns out that mostly everyone I know is in Madrigals anyways, meaning that I have different music, different rehearsal days, and I can't even join in with people when they're spontaneously singing in physics. (start rant here) We have to wear the stupidest outfits, we stay at rehearsal the longest, and suck donkey balls to boot (musically, not literally). (/end rant here)

"Paul and His Hens" was stuck in my head. Goddamn clucking..

cluck cluck cluck cluck....

Make it stop!!!

King Kong (which I saw on tv last Friday) is not a movie that ages well, though it is, admittedly, funny.

A stegosaurus is charging us! Let's shoot it!
Death by brachiosaurus! (I find all the scenes of men being chased and eaten by a large, water-based, lumbering herbivore to be quite amusing. What is this, stop-motion Jurassic Park?)

I was hoping that any day now the people hoping to save Anne would wake up, thwap themselves and go, "Damn, she's so not worth this." I mean.. let's see... the whole rescue expedition gets killed except Jack... the tribal village is destroyed and many people stepped on and .. eaten.. by King Kong (ah, the indiscrimant dietery habits of monsters)... New York is ravished, people in train cars get crushed inside the cars, planes get swatted down.. I mean.. and for one dumb blond screaming actress. (This is honestly all she does for the whole movie. Scream herself hoarse.. okay, and faint. Why on Earth Kong wants her, I can't even imagine. After half an hour of dragging her through the island jungle, musn't he be thinking, "Can't I get a goddamn minute of peace and quiet??") And it's not like Jack didn't know it was going to happen too. It's like, "Oh, let's take away the ONLY thing that's keeping King Kong placated!"

Being taken care of and adored by a giant gorilla. It doesn't seem to be a half bad life in any case, though one might begin missing human company.. but she could most likely stand to wait a while until the next screaming chick is tied to a pair of pillars and abducted. Besides, you deal with people every day.. but placing yourself in the care of adoring gorillas is a once in a lifetime experience. Jane Goodall spent years digging this type of thing.

Maybe it's a fetish or something.

I feel sorry for Kong, man. All he wanted was a friend...

It's also rather violent. I didn't know old movies could get this violent. The way the T-Rex dies.. ironic (live by the tooth, die by the tooth), but rather painful. (Let us say.. dislocated jaw). People falling off buildings and going splat, being eaten by Kong, being crushed under his feet. It's a bit bizarre.