Friday, September 12, 2003
Thursday, September 11, 2003
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Meeting People
Have been meeting a lot of people, actually. Andrew who showed up at the first Ancient Studies Club meeting on Monday... I'm ostracizing him, and by ostracizing I mean going to his room and calling him a poopyhead. Yesterday we saw the tail hour of the Two Towers with Russel, his friend from across the hall, and cheered very loudly in all the right places. I'd forgotten how good that movie was. We went to fencing together, where he kept noting how different it was from wrestling. Lori was there too... there was a humongous group, and even though it was the second meeting most people hadn't gone the first time, so we did... en garde... advance... retreat.... lunge... again. Blah. Anyway, Andrew is the world's biggest Terry Goodkind fan, and wants to lend me Stone of Tears. I'm like, "No." But his Morrowind music is very atmospheric for Wizard's First Rule... partly because he has great speakers. He blasts the Pirate of the Caribbean soundtrack from his super powerful speakers, and the subwoofers make everything vibrate. He has to be careful though, because apparently he blew a speaker with that soundtrack, just having cranked it all the way up. The Pirates soundtrack is some great stuff. He has introduced me to Boogie Knights, a band that sings parody songs with a D&D slant.
He's sick though, quite possibly from eating pizza immediately before fencing, despite all of us warning him not to. Silly. So I couldn't really hang out with him today.
Alex and Shayne are some other random Gothesque people from my Archaeology class today. They're interested in fencing on Thursday.
Totally by accident, I ran into the room of Joe and John when I was looking for the source of the Star Spangled Banner played on the sax, which was audible all down the first floor hall. They weren't playing it, but Joe turns out to be like the president or something of Ancient Studies Club, and he recognized me from the first meeting, though I didn't talk to him there. He had a paper on witchcraft to write, but he was nice enough. Amusing things to note; he has a giant cardboard Tuvok in his room, which he uses as a coatrack... though I personally think it'd be creepy to have a giant Vulcan staring at me in my sleep. He's a great sci-fi/fantasy fan of course. A significant portion of his bookshelf is devoted to Robert Jordan. He also has nearly the entire Alexander the Great trilogy by Mary Renault, who I love to death. Alexander the Great is my favorite conqueror ever. He ownz j00. (I did my EE on him and read a biographies and a bunch of articles, have the Iron Maiden song about him, have watched a good deal of his anime series, and will totally watch the Baz Luhrman film about him when it comes out, despite Leonardo DiCaprio being in it). Joe has "Persian Boy" and "Funeral Games".... I have "Fire From Heaven," so if I bring that his collection will be complete. Mary Renault writes historical fiction, of course, not fantasy, but since me and Joe both are great phil-Hellenes, this is even better. And he's read "The King Must Die" and loves it. Score! He also reads Terry Pratchett, Larry Niven (whose Ringworld I've read) and Iain Banks, who I've never heard of.
John, his roomie... also a great Terry Goodkind fan. He reads more sci-fi than fantasy though... William Gibson, who I should read (In "Neuromancer" he invented the word cyberspace) and SM Stirling's "Conquistador." He likes war movies, but not war books, which is why he likes "The Sun Also Rises" but not "For Whom the Bell Tolls," and is reading "Heart of Darkness" because he worships "Apocalypse Now," which, as you know, is the Vietnam War movie based on HoD. He, less belligerently, likes Tenchi Muyo, and has a little stick figure dialogue taped to his door reading, "Why did the man like Japanese animation movies?" "I dunno." "Because he was overweight and had no friends." This cracks me up. John though actually is not overweight and does have friends. He has big stompy boots and wears black.
It seems that you can tell a lot about people by their possessions, because this blog post of mine seems to be one great inventory.
Have been meeting a lot of people, actually. Andrew who showed up at the first Ancient Studies Club meeting on Monday... I'm ostracizing him, and by ostracizing I mean going to his room and calling him a poopyhead. Yesterday we saw the tail hour of the Two Towers with Russel, his friend from across the hall, and cheered very loudly in all the right places. I'd forgotten how good that movie was. We went to fencing together, where he kept noting how different it was from wrestling. Lori was there too... there was a humongous group, and even though it was the second meeting most people hadn't gone the first time, so we did... en garde... advance... retreat.... lunge... again. Blah. Anyway, Andrew is the world's biggest Terry Goodkind fan, and wants to lend me Stone of Tears. I'm like, "No." But his Morrowind music is very atmospheric for Wizard's First Rule... partly because he has great speakers. He blasts the Pirate of the Caribbean soundtrack from his super powerful speakers, and the subwoofers make everything vibrate. He has to be careful though, because apparently he blew a speaker with that soundtrack, just having cranked it all the way up. The Pirates soundtrack is some great stuff. He has introduced me to Boogie Knights, a band that sings parody songs with a D&D slant.
He's sick though, quite possibly from eating pizza immediately before fencing, despite all of us warning him not to. Silly. So I couldn't really hang out with him today.
Alex and Shayne are some other random Gothesque people from my Archaeology class today. They're interested in fencing on Thursday.
Totally by accident, I ran into the room of Joe and John when I was looking for the source of the Star Spangled Banner played on the sax, which was audible all down the first floor hall. They weren't playing it, but Joe turns out to be like the president or something of Ancient Studies Club, and he recognized me from the first meeting, though I didn't talk to him there. He had a paper on witchcraft to write, but he was nice enough. Amusing things to note; he has a giant cardboard Tuvok in his room, which he uses as a coatrack... though I personally think it'd be creepy to have a giant Vulcan staring at me in my sleep. He's a great sci-fi/fantasy fan of course. A significant portion of his bookshelf is devoted to Robert Jordan. He also has nearly the entire Alexander the Great trilogy by Mary Renault, who I love to death. Alexander the Great is my favorite conqueror ever. He ownz j00. (I did my EE on him and read a biographies and a bunch of articles, have the Iron Maiden song about him, have watched a good deal of his anime series, and will totally watch the Baz Luhrman film about him when it comes out, despite Leonardo DiCaprio being in it). Joe has "Persian Boy" and "Funeral Games".... I have "Fire From Heaven," so if I bring that his collection will be complete. Mary Renault writes historical fiction, of course, not fantasy, but since me and Joe both are great phil-Hellenes, this is even better. And he's read "The King Must Die" and loves it. Score! He also reads Terry Pratchett, Larry Niven (whose Ringworld I've read) and Iain Banks, who I've never heard of.
John, his roomie... also a great Terry Goodkind fan. He reads more sci-fi than fantasy though... William Gibson, who I should read (In "Neuromancer" he invented the word cyberspace) and SM Stirling's "Conquistador." He likes war movies, but not war books, which is why he likes "The Sun Also Rises" but not "For Whom the Bell Tolls," and is reading "Heart of Darkness" because he worships "Apocalypse Now," which, as you know, is the Vietnam War movie based on HoD. He, less belligerently, likes Tenchi Muyo, and has a little stick figure dialogue taped to his door reading, "Why did the man like Japanese animation movies?" "I dunno." "Because he was overweight and had no friends." This cracks me up. John though actually is not overweight and does have friends. He has big stompy boots and wears black.
It seems that you can tell a lot about people by their possessions, because this blog post of mine seems to be one great inventory.
Tuesday, September 09, 2003
I woke up at 1 in the afternoon today, which is when my first class is, so I simply didn't go. I took a long walk, because I was mildly depressed and lonely. The thing about college is, you have loneliness with no privacy; loneliness with no solitude and crowds with no companionship, so it really is the worst of both worlds. Right now I am in some sort of transition and so am not attached to anyone (though I talk to people periodically)... not you who read this nor my family nor the people I am now with. I seem to go through life insulated. Also, I don't know what I am to do with the rest of it; I was reading Lauren's book for high school dropouts while she was talking to Janis on the phone over the weekend, and one thing that it said that made an impression on me was that people go to school because they "have" to, in preparation for some kind of abstract future, when really they can start doing what they want to be doing in life right now. (They used starting your own business, learning a language, getting a hobby, doing volunteer work and political activism as several examples) I don't know why I don't write right now because that's what I want to do; and I know I'm fairly good at it or at least as good as Terry Goodkind, though he will always sell better than me because he's a genius at those things called: plot and pacing. And Brian Clevinger dropped out of college to write 8 Bit Theater and now he's like ruler of a media empire... I don't plan on dropping out, but you know what I mean. Nobody every lost anything by starting their lives. In the meantime I am stuck taking classes like Principles of Accounting and Linear Algebra.
Usually when I am depressed and lonely I go outside, but here it's all Campus, which is like a glorified Costco parking lot, so there is no real Outside. It often feels as if I live within a ferro-concrete bunker. We have a Field, which is a rectangle of mown grass neatly clipped between sidewalks, which is a travesty, like perfectly good boys who join the military and shear their lovely tumbled locks away. So anyway, I tromped around the campus, where away from everything, close to the sports fields, the grass is unkempt because nobody bothers (we have a stadium but no football team), and where there are small groves of trees on hills and low hollows where the water collects and a thicket grows around it with blueberries (I think; I ate two, perhaps unwisely) and those white bell-shaped flowers which are purple deep inside. There's a creek that runs from somewhere to somewhere else, on the banks of which are tumbleface walls of concrete cakes and trash, and a tree that grows on the bank and stoops over the water like Ophelia's tree, turning leaves gold at the arch and bending down to meet a winding vine of orange flowers. The wind pushes at the leaves that are still green so that they swim in layers above your head. Over aways, I don't know where because I stopped keeping track of where I was walking, there is a picnic table that's green with moss and with one bench that's fallen off, under the shelter of a thin, drooping branches like a bower.
I walked off campus into the suburbs, with two-laned roads with no sidewalks, and pickup trucks, and houses with porches with patio chairs on them, and American flags and brick chimneys, and small steepled churches every block. High school kids in Metallica shirts say things loudly like, "Don't think Ah like Chinese people, do yew?" and "Ah don't like Japanese people." Though it really doesn't matter to me because I will never see them again and they are small enough for me to give them wedgies, when I was turning down the road and they were coming in the opposite direction I jaywalked across the street and turned around because they didn't seem like great people to encounter. It is otherwise a lovely neighborhood, and doesn't bother me too much. I think that if I lived in such a pretty place so squarely in Confederate country, that I would be angry too, with rap music and gangsters and immigrants and things that ruin my way of life among the black shutters and whitewashed walls.
UMBC is always visible, that big ghastly metal drum that is our library always in view if you look for it, like an orienting landmark. I went back on campus but was sidetracked by a small gravel road that meandered off away, and being how I am, I said (not aloud, dumbass) "Where does this road go?" and followed it as it switchbacked over hilly grass. I reached a wheat field leaping with grasshoppers, with a swathe cut through up a hill, and at the crown of it the wheat was shorn and there was a wooden frame lying upon the ground, and shallow holes dug in the dirt laid over with reeds. The wind was strong and around me panoramically I could see waving stalks and the woods that went blue in the distance and the school, and to my left, the points of two steeples far away.
I'm pretty sure it was not private property. There was no sign and no gate.
By the time I came back I was not depressed but contemplative, which inself is not a bad mood to be in.
If Lori is still upset with school I might take her there and if she is anything at all like me (and also, not afraid of insects) she might like it. I will walk with her if she wishes, but I will not be in a talking mood.
Usually when I am depressed and lonely I go outside, but here it's all Campus, which is like a glorified Costco parking lot, so there is no real Outside. It often feels as if I live within a ferro-concrete bunker. We have a Field, which is a rectangle of mown grass neatly clipped between sidewalks, which is a travesty, like perfectly good boys who join the military and shear their lovely tumbled locks away. So anyway, I tromped around the campus, where away from everything, close to the sports fields, the grass is unkempt because nobody bothers (we have a stadium but no football team), and where there are small groves of trees on hills and low hollows where the water collects and a thicket grows around it with blueberries (I think; I ate two, perhaps unwisely) and those white bell-shaped flowers which are purple deep inside. There's a creek that runs from somewhere to somewhere else, on the banks of which are tumbleface walls of concrete cakes and trash, and a tree that grows on the bank and stoops over the water like Ophelia's tree, turning leaves gold at the arch and bending down to meet a winding vine of orange flowers. The wind pushes at the leaves that are still green so that they swim in layers above your head. Over aways, I don't know where because I stopped keeping track of where I was walking, there is a picnic table that's green with moss and with one bench that's fallen off, under the shelter of a thin, drooping branches like a bower.
I walked off campus into the suburbs, with two-laned roads with no sidewalks, and pickup trucks, and houses with porches with patio chairs on them, and American flags and brick chimneys, and small steepled churches every block. High school kids in Metallica shirts say things loudly like, "Don't think Ah like Chinese people, do yew?" and "Ah don't like Japanese people." Though it really doesn't matter to me because I will never see them again and they are small enough for me to give them wedgies, when I was turning down the road and they were coming in the opposite direction I jaywalked across the street and turned around because they didn't seem like great people to encounter. It is otherwise a lovely neighborhood, and doesn't bother me too much. I think that if I lived in such a pretty place so squarely in Confederate country, that I would be angry too, with rap music and gangsters and immigrants and things that ruin my way of life among the black shutters and whitewashed walls.
UMBC is always visible, that big ghastly metal drum that is our library always in view if you look for it, like an orienting landmark. I went back on campus but was sidetracked by a small gravel road that meandered off away, and being how I am, I said (not aloud, dumbass) "Where does this road go?" and followed it as it switchbacked over hilly grass. I reached a wheat field leaping with grasshoppers, with a swathe cut through up a hill, and at the crown of it the wheat was shorn and there was a wooden frame lying upon the ground, and shallow holes dug in the dirt laid over with reeds. The wind was strong and around me panoramically I could see waving stalks and the woods that went blue in the distance and the school, and to my left, the points of two steeples far away.
I'm pretty sure it was not private property. There was no sign and no gate.
By the time I came back I was not depressed but contemplative, which inself is not a bad mood to be in.
If Lori is still upset with school I might take her there and if she is anything at all like me (and also, not afraid of insects) she might like it. I will walk with her if she wishes, but I will not be in a talking mood.
Monday, September 08, 2003
My parents are in Canada for a wedding, so I went home (thanks, Lori, for the drive!). Andrew D said it must suck to be at home and still not have homecooked meals, but actually the reason I went home is because I could visit Lauren and not feel guilty about spending the weekend with friends instead of family. It's not dreadful being home alone in an empty house- I missed the serenity and the little bubble of solitude and privacy.
On Saturday night I went to watch "Bowling For Columbine" with Lauren, at Caitlin's house. Met Caitlin... not Caitlin B the Face that Launched A Thousand Minivans, but another one, who was also disgustingly beautiful. She looked like a porcelain doll; I was afraid her boyfriend would like, tip her over and smash her or something. She had her boyfriend over, Jay, who succeeded in being much more hyper and random than I am. Much more random than I am. Imagine a large, hairy, Boedecker-esque character with a heart of gold and ADHD. At one point Caitlin tickled him madly, causing him to laugh hysterically in such a funny way that the rest of us couldn't stop laughing either. Everytime Caitlin tickled him, me and Lauren would burst out laughing as if we had some kind of telepathic connection. By the end of the night, Caitlin seemed very weary.
Anyway, "Bowling" was the most moving documentary ever. Of course, it was hardly an objective documentary, being that Michael Moore was deeply involved in it, and was obviously manipulating interviews and whatever to make his point, so it was really more like a movie. It really blurred the line between movie and documentary. Like "Adaptation" was a documentary masquerading as a movie... "Bowling" was a movie masquerading as a documentary. I'm not sure if I make sense. But anyway. We'll say that "Bowling" is as much a documentary as my blog is; the account of one person's experience, with certain parts embellished and emphasized for dramatic effect. But, taking its factuality with a grain of salt, "Bowling" is still beautifully made and emotionally powerful.
Went to Lauren's house, where we called Janis in Illinois to wish her happy birthday and talk out some Issues (but if Janis and Lauren want that to be put on the internet for anyone to read that's their prerogative). It was a strange three-way phone call that lasted for hours, which was weird because I was at Lauren's house in a different rom but still talking to her on the phone. I was in the same house with her, and Janis being halfway across the country, and yet on the phone with both of them who could tell? When I was in the same room with Lauren (she got a headset phone later so that she could join me in her room, instead of using the phone in the kitchen) it was like surround sound. I could hear her next to me and yet through the phone too.
You know what me and Janis will patent? A teleprompter for the blind. This brainstorming session stemmed from Lauren going up the stairs to make spaghetti while I remained in Lauren's room on the phone:
Me: Janis, I will now give you a play by play narrative of what Lauren is doing. Right now she is going up the stairs.
Janis: Is she wearing shoes?
Me: I don't know.
Janis: That's a pretty stupid play by play if you can't even tell me if she's wearing shoes.
Me: Well I can't see her going up the stairs, I can only hear her.
Janis: Well that still is pretty stupid. What kind of head of state would I be if I were president and invaded a country and was like, "I can't see that we've won, I can only hear our cries of victory and induce that we're winning"?
Me: Well what if you were a blind president? It wouldn't be extraordinarily incompetent to only hear the cries of victory, because you can't see anything.
Janis: It's weird how we've never had a blind president, yet nobody ever complains.
*insert obligatory joke about how much Bush is blind to*
Me: Well I think it'd be kind of limiting. You wouldn't be able to read the teleprompter...
And hence we came up with the design for a teleprompter for the blind... I think it's pretty cool, and is one of my (and Janis') totally random ideas that could actually turn out to be practical. Ok. Basically, a grid of little pegs could be programmed to rise and fall based on computer input. These pegs would punch raised Braille indentations in a hand-held conveyer belt of rubber-like material that would keep its shape. The belt would scroll under the blind person's fingers. Like an escalator, the belt would roll underneath a covering, which would flatten out the bumps again. We'd never build one ourselves because we aren't oh... electronical engineers, chemists specializing in synthetic materials, and computer scientists, but in theory, it could be made.
Why not just use earphones, you say? Well you could, but these babies could potentially also be used as palm pilots for the blind, or other such things that require text messaging. I'd think it's less intrusive. You could also maintain a conversation with someone while reading in Braille, which is something more difficult to do with earphones on. And have you ever tried to deliver a speech by ear? (As in someone telling you what to say as you're saying it) It's pretty hard, and even if you could do it there'd still be a time delay. (*silence* "My fellow Americans!" *silence* "We are a nation at war!" *silence* "But fear not!" *silence*) You see how that would be.
Something else: Lauren is cool. If you think about it, I've only really known her since late this summer, not particularly more than I know these random people at college. Yet there's something about having her as part of my Old Life that makes her feel like a "friend from high school" and keeps me from being lonely in a way that these people I am surrounded by can't.
It was supposedly a sleepover but we didn't sleep. We watched really cool Trigun musicals, and Escaflowne from 5 in the morning on Sunday until like 10. Esca... I don't know how I feel about it; it's very good but it doesn't feel like it did when I was watching it for the first time when I thought it was grippingly exciting, mindblowing and jaw-droppingly beautiful and the best thing on God's good earth. Perhaps it means that I've grown up, or been jaded. Or maybe it means nothing at all; different emotions will be caused by different viewings of just about everything.... things are always better or worse the first/second/third time you watch them and it all depends on your mood. I still enjoyed myself immensely but I've been an Esca fan for such a long time on the basis of maybe two or three episodes that I wouldn't know what I'd do if I suddenly discovered that Esca actually isn't all that good.
We got to make fun of Esca though, and Gaddes, a totally minor character (one of Alan Schezar's crewmembers on the airship Crusade) who looks EXACTLY like Wolfwood except given a sword and decked out in a puffy blouse and tunic, medieval style. Slashy implications galore: "Go to your room! I'll be joining you shortly!" being our main repeated joke.
Lauren's family got up in the morning and was kind of bewildered to find me, this random girl, in their house. When I went home, bewildered by the bright sunshine in conjuction with my lack of sleep (what happened to the night darkness? It's sleepy time, my brain said), I collapsed in my (mine!) bed and went to sleep.
It was really beautiful out. The weather is cool and fresh now, and the clouds are high in the sky and the moon near full.
When I went back to school, we had a floor meeting. I was introduced to some girls from Hong Kong, specifically because they were from Hong Kong. They didn't speak English perfectly but I refused to let myself lapse into the "Let's Speak the Native Language!" thing lest I appear patronizing. You could tell they were Hong Kong girls because of their feathered hair and bangs, which I have also. It's very amusing that you can tell who's from which part of China by their hairstyles; Beijing girls always have long hair pulled back in high ponytails. You know it's true.
I ate dinner and talked to some totally random people about what it would be like if cheese grew from trees.
On Saturday night I went to watch "Bowling For Columbine" with Lauren, at Caitlin's house. Met Caitlin... not Caitlin B the Face that Launched A Thousand Minivans, but another one, who was also disgustingly beautiful. She looked like a porcelain doll; I was afraid her boyfriend would like, tip her over and smash her or something. She had her boyfriend over, Jay, who succeeded in being much more hyper and random than I am. Much more random than I am. Imagine a large, hairy, Boedecker-esque character with a heart of gold and ADHD. At one point Caitlin tickled him madly, causing him to laugh hysterically in such a funny way that the rest of us couldn't stop laughing either. Everytime Caitlin tickled him, me and Lauren would burst out laughing as if we had some kind of telepathic connection. By the end of the night, Caitlin seemed very weary.
Anyway, "Bowling" was the most moving documentary ever. Of course, it was hardly an objective documentary, being that Michael Moore was deeply involved in it, and was obviously manipulating interviews and whatever to make his point, so it was really more like a movie. It really blurred the line between movie and documentary. Like "Adaptation" was a documentary masquerading as a movie... "Bowling" was a movie masquerading as a documentary. I'm not sure if I make sense. But anyway. We'll say that "Bowling" is as much a documentary as my blog is; the account of one person's experience, with certain parts embellished and emphasized for dramatic effect. But, taking its factuality with a grain of salt, "Bowling" is still beautifully made and emotionally powerful.
Went to Lauren's house, where we called Janis in Illinois to wish her happy birthday and talk out some Issues (but if Janis and Lauren want that to be put on the internet for anyone to read that's their prerogative). It was a strange three-way phone call that lasted for hours, which was weird because I was at Lauren's house in a different rom but still talking to her on the phone. I was in the same house with her, and Janis being halfway across the country, and yet on the phone with both of them who could tell? When I was in the same room with Lauren (she got a headset phone later so that she could join me in her room, instead of using the phone in the kitchen) it was like surround sound. I could hear her next to me and yet through the phone too.
You know what me and Janis will patent? A teleprompter for the blind. This brainstorming session stemmed from Lauren going up the stairs to make spaghetti while I remained in Lauren's room on the phone:
Me: Janis, I will now give you a play by play narrative of what Lauren is doing. Right now she is going up the stairs.
Janis: Is she wearing shoes?
Me: I don't know.
Janis: That's a pretty stupid play by play if you can't even tell me if she's wearing shoes.
Me: Well I can't see her going up the stairs, I can only hear her.
Janis: Well that still is pretty stupid. What kind of head of state would I be if I were president and invaded a country and was like, "I can't see that we've won, I can only hear our cries of victory and induce that we're winning"?
Me: Well what if you were a blind president? It wouldn't be extraordinarily incompetent to only hear the cries of victory, because you can't see anything.
Janis: It's weird how we've never had a blind president, yet nobody ever complains.
*insert obligatory joke about how much Bush is blind to*
Me: Well I think it'd be kind of limiting. You wouldn't be able to read the teleprompter...
And hence we came up with the design for a teleprompter for the blind... I think it's pretty cool, and is one of my (and Janis') totally random ideas that could actually turn out to be practical. Ok. Basically, a grid of little pegs could be programmed to rise and fall based on computer input. These pegs would punch raised Braille indentations in a hand-held conveyer belt of rubber-like material that would keep its shape. The belt would scroll under the blind person's fingers. Like an escalator, the belt would roll underneath a covering, which would flatten out the bumps again. We'd never build one ourselves because we aren't oh... electronical engineers, chemists specializing in synthetic materials, and computer scientists, but in theory, it could be made.
Why not just use earphones, you say? Well you could, but these babies could potentially also be used as palm pilots for the blind, or other such things that require text messaging. I'd think it's less intrusive. You could also maintain a conversation with someone while reading in Braille, which is something more difficult to do with earphones on. And have you ever tried to deliver a speech by ear? (As in someone telling you what to say as you're saying it) It's pretty hard, and even if you could do it there'd still be a time delay. (*silence* "My fellow Americans!" *silence* "We are a nation at war!" *silence* "But fear not!" *silence*) You see how that would be.
Something else: Lauren is cool. If you think about it, I've only really known her since late this summer, not particularly more than I know these random people at college. Yet there's something about having her as part of my Old Life that makes her feel like a "friend from high school" and keeps me from being lonely in a way that these people I am surrounded by can't.
It was supposedly a sleepover but we didn't sleep. We watched really cool Trigun musicals, and Escaflowne from 5 in the morning on Sunday until like 10. Esca... I don't know how I feel about it; it's very good but it doesn't feel like it did when I was watching it for the first time when I thought it was grippingly exciting, mindblowing and jaw-droppingly beautiful and the best thing on God's good earth. Perhaps it means that I've grown up, or been jaded. Or maybe it means nothing at all; different emotions will be caused by different viewings of just about everything.... things are always better or worse the first/second/third time you watch them and it all depends on your mood. I still enjoyed myself immensely but I've been an Esca fan for such a long time on the basis of maybe two or three episodes that I wouldn't know what I'd do if I suddenly discovered that Esca actually isn't all that good.
We got to make fun of Esca though, and Gaddes, a totally minor character (one of Alan Schezar's crewmembers on the airship Crusade) who looks EXACTLY like Wolfwood except given a sword and decked out in a puffy blouse and tunic, medieval style. Slashy implications galore: "Go to your room! I'll be joining you shortly!" being our main repeated joke.
Lauren's family got up in the morning and was kind of bewildered to find me, this random girl, in their house. When I went home, bewildered by the bright sunshine in conjuction with my lack of sleep (what happened to the night darkness? It's sleepy time, my brain said), I collapsed in my (mine!) bed and went to sleep.
It was really beautiful out. The weather is cool and fresh now, and the clouds are high in the sky and the moon near full.
When I went back to school, we had a floor meeting. I was introduced to some girls from Hong Kong, specifically because they were from Hong Kong. They didn't speak English perfectly but I refused to let myself lapse into the "Let's Speak the Native Language!" thing lest I appear patronizing. You could tell they were Hong Kong girls because of their feathered hair and bangs, which I have also. It's very amusing that you can tell who's from which part of China by their hairstyles; Beijing girls always have long hair pulled back in high ponytails. You know it's true.
I ate dinner and talked to some totally random people about what it would be like if cheese grew from trees.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)