Dear Harriet Walter,
Here are 3 bits of dialogue from today.
1. I walked through the cafeteria door and joined the lunch line directly behind former Navy boy Dane.
"Ruby," he said.
"Dane," I said.
"It's Tuesday. Do you know what that means?"
I thought about it. Tuesday. Three classes for me today? Bible exam study session this evening? Beginning of the school week for most of us? I shook my head at him.
Dane turned his lunch tray sideways, as he would hold a guitar, and began banging on it with his empty blue cup and loudly singing, "Goooooodbye, Ruuuby Tuuuesday, who could hang a name on you?"
Ah yes.
2. I stood on the steps outside the main classroom building, getting a breath of fresh air after my first of three classes in a row. (The first had been Bible and it would be followed by Literature and Philosophy. The class had been our third session covering the Psalms and Professor Mine Enemy had proceeded at a rapid pace almost the whole way through, owing to the fact that we needed to finish up that book today and he had lots of connections to make and information to cram into our heads, and despite the fact that he was sick today and had been hoarse to a degree that was almost painful to listen to.) Brielle and Danielle stood on the steps with me, and Danielle was expressing concern for Brielle's health, as Brielle is also sick.
Communications Professor (Comprof?) passed us on the stairs and overheard some of this concern. "Is she ok?" he asked.
"I have bronchitis a little bit," said Brielle. "I'm getting better."
"Oh, yeah, seems like so many people have that lately," said Comprof. "My son's got it, too, my one-year-old son. I'm trying really hard not to get it."
"Aww, that's too bad [for him]," said Danielle.
"Gotta stay away from these bronchitis people!" Comprof joked to Professor Mine Enemy as PME passed us, descending the stairs.
"What are you talking about?" said Professor Mine Enemy in a ghastly death-croak.
Brielle, Danielle and I exploded with laughter. Comprof gave an only half-joking cry of horror. Professor Mine Enemy grinned and continued on to the offices.
3. Dr. Mac, having just dismissed us from Philosophy (critical thinking), turned to his four- or six-year-old son (not sure which one it was), who had been writing on the whiteboard during the last few minutes and distracting us all in the best possible way.
"Mount," he said, correcting his boy's spelling. "With a U. 'Zeus lived on Mount Olympus.' That's moont you've got there." Having thus pronounced, he erased the top half of the second O of Moont Olympus.
His boy did not seem bothered.
Showing posts with label just things. Show all posts
Showing posts with label just things. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
ocean goldfish headscarf dog
Dear Harriet Walter,
In lieu of words, here are some pictures from Christmas break.
Now for an orange and homework. But not at the same time.
In lieu of words, here are some pictures from Christmas break.
 |
| Mumsy (right) and me. |
 |
| Exceedingly fat goldfish thing we saw at our local pet store. |
 |
| Mumsy decided that it would be funny to take a picture of me because I had fallen asleep on the couch with a scarf on my head. |
 |
| Daddy with poodle Lucy. |
Sunday, January 8, 2012
we're a bit close, yes
Dear Harriet Walter,
Last day of vacation! I must pack tonight and tomorrow afternoon fly back to SoCal, where classes will start on Tuesday. This last stretch of break would have been better without an ugly cold knocking me flat, but at least I was on my own bed once again (laid out on the kitchen floor every night for lack of space in the apartment, the plastic mattress-protecting case betraying itself underneath the sheets every time I moved).
Here is a short and incomplete list of things I have done with my mother lately, both from our time in Oregon and in Idaho.
Now back to work until the summer, I suppose.
Last day of vacation! I must pack tonight and tomorrow afternoon fly back to SoCal, where classes will start on Tuesday. This last stretch of break would have been better without an ugly cold knocking me flat, but at least I was on my own bed once again (laid out on the kitchen floor every night for lack of space in the apartment, the plastic mattress-protecting case betraying itself underneath the sheets every time I moved).
Here is a short and incomplete list of things I have done with my mother lately, both from our time in Oregon and in Idaho.
- watched movies (including two Thin Man movies, Lawrence of Arabia, and Tangled) and television shows (Sherlock Holmes starring our beloved Jeremy Brett, BBC Sherlock, Dorothy L Sayers Mysteries: Have His Carcase starring you, and Pride and Prejudice 1995, most of these with my father involved as well)
- had heartfelt Talks while snuggling
- shopped for clothes
- shopped for groceries
- shopped for shoes (because regrettable things have happened to my sneakers at college)
- played Scrabble
- made lovely collages on our new folders for school (while playing Scrabble)
- gone to church (both at our church in Oregon and at the church my parents have liked best in their Idaho town so far, which I was very interested to see, it's nondenominational and not very liturgical at all but is very entertaining and seems to be full of quality folks)
- taken dogs on walks (in Oregon, while Best Friend and family were gone for Christmas weekend and I had the care of my dog which they're fostering and their own dog)
- shopped for more clothes
- baked cookies
- baked more cookies
- looked at silly pictures of Dr Mac on Facebook (well, I made her sit with me)
- talked and talked and talked about everything
- read books or parts of books (Persuasion by Jane Austen, and also A Little Princess by Frances Hodgson Burnett because I was sick and couldn't handle much)
- hung out with my Auntlet and also, too briefly, Friend Bethany
- slept in forever every day
- drawn nice, ugly pictures with my new highlighters
- mended my pants
- ???
Now back to work until the summer, I suppose.
Monday, December 19, 2011
pears and freedom are delicious
Dear Harriet Walter,
Two things.
One, sometimes it is necessary to eat at pear at midnight because sometimes midnight may be the hour of that pear's perfected ripeness, the fleeting peak between crunch and squish. As if one bought a rock at the supermarket and kept it in a basket in the kitchen for days, and one carefully watched over it until at last, late one night, a light came from it and it magically hatched into one's own true love (who could never have possibly fit inside it but hey magic). And one's own true love said, "My darling, you and I must spend this hour together and you must end me at the close of it, or else I shall turn into a slimy frog and die within a few days, rotting before your eyes, never having loved. You would not do that to me." So of course one would spend the hour together with one's own love, sitting on the carpet, holding hands and resting against each other and gazing at the lights on the Christmas tree, dreaming up hopes not subject to reason, before the time ended and one ate him and devoured his flesh right down to the bones, delicately wiped one's lips with a napkin and tossed his spine into the compost bin, silently thanking him for the time spent together. Isn't it the better way?
Two, I was thinking about catching up on a television show I hadn't watched since I went to college but then I thought "no of course I can't I don't have time" then I remembered that I'm on vacation and have absolutely no homework to do and no classes to go to
HA
Two things.
One, sometimes it is necessary to eat at pear at midnight because sometimes midnight may be the hour of that pear's perfected ripeness, the fleeting peak between crunch and squish. As if one bought a rock at the supermarket and kept it in a basket in the kitchen for days, and one carefully watched over it until at last, late one night, a light came from it and it magically hatched into one's own true love (who could never have possibly fit inside it but hey magic). And one's own true love said, "My darling, you and I must spend this hour together and you must end me at the close of it, or else I shall turn into a slimy frog and die within a few days, rotting before your eyes, never having loved. You would not do that to me." So of course one would spend the hour together with one's own love, sitting on the carpet, holding hands and resting against each other and gazing at the lights on the Christmas tree, dreaming up hopes not subject to reason, before the time ended and one ate him and devoured his flesh right down to the bones, delicately wiped one's lips with a napkin and tossed his spine into the compost bin, silently thanking him for the time spent together. Isn't it the better way?
Two, I was thinking about catching up on a television show I hadn't watched since I went to college but then I thought "no of course I can't I don't have time" then I remembered that I'm on vacation and have absolutely no homework to do and no classes to go to
HA
Sunday, December 4, 2011
from chicken to cockatoo
Dear Harriet Walter,
I would like a bow tie. A bow tie would not be unwelcome to me.
Also Krista and I were supposed to be writing papers or something but we dyed my hair again instead
and it was kind of slimy and workable in the application process (before the stuff got washed out) so Krista got all like wheeee
Also I found out that the new math professor with the same last name as PME who I mentioned before is actually PME's son.
(Oh.)
theoretically that possibility should have occurred to me
also looking at PME Junior's facebook page it's all like "degree in aerospace engineering" and "U.S. Air Force Academy" and "U.S. Air Force research engineer"
That family
I would like a bow tie. A bow tie would not be unwelcome to me.
 |
| Also not unwelcome would be a Matt Smith in a bow tie. |
and it was kind of slimy and workable in the application process (before the stuff got washed out) so Krista got all like wheeee
 |
| this is my slimy platinum mohawk whee hair |
(Oh.)
theoretically that possibility should have occurred to me
also looking at PME Junior's facebook page it's all like "degree in aerospace engineering" and "U.S. Air Force Academy" and "U.S. Air Force research engineer"
That family
Sunday, November 27, 2011
also, mattresses
Dear Harriet Walter,
You know what's awesome?
Fred Astaire's spats are awesome.
My ridiculous dog is awesome.
Matt Smith's hair is awesome.
Frosted brownies are awesome.
Getting out of the shower the day after a blondey hair-dyeing (which turned out a little more bright yellow than expected), all ruffly-like, and having one's Krista burst out laughing and be like "Ruby, you look like a little chicken!" is awesome.
And now I need a new word.
You know what's awesome?
Fred Astaire's spats are awesome.
My ridiculous dog is awesome.
Matt Smith's hair is awesome.
Frosted brownies are awesome.
Getting out of the shower the day after a blondey hair-dyeing (which turned out a little more bright yellow than expected), all ruffly-like, and having one's Krista burst out laughing and be like "Ruby, you look like a little chicken!" is awesome.
 |
| I have no regrets. |
And now I need a new word.
Friday, November 25, 2011
any day I get my head showered by someone else is a good day
Dear Harriet Walter,
whoa
whoa
hey
like when did I get so self-absorbed?
(Been reading over email correspondences from last summer and then my blog as it stands now.)
I suppose when one is changing and growing, one has to keep an eye on the directions of one's growth.
And my life is really seriously interesting right now. To me.
In other news, that was an extremely different Thanksgiving day. An excellent one. Never been apart from my family on Thanksgiving before. I am learning so much from hanging out with juniors. Today was full of card games and turkey and sparkling cider and lounging about reading J. Peterman catalogs and playing with dogs and and hair dye and sugar cookies and confessions under blankets and drawing and listening to my ladies express frustrations about frustrating Boys. Everything is interesting.
whoa
whoa
hey
like when did I get so self-absorbed?
(Been reading over email correspondences from last summer and then my blog as it stands now.)
I suppose when one is changing and growing, one has to keep an eye on the directions of one's growth.
And my life is really seriously interesting right now. To me.
 |
| Here is a picture that is a picture of you and not a picture of me. Although I'm off-campus and so can only screencap from youtube and not my dvds. |
In other news, that was an extremely different Thanksgiving day. An excellent one. Never been apart from my family on Thanksgiving before. I am learning so much from hanging out with juniors. Today was full of card games and turkey and sparkling cider and lounging about reading J. Peterman catalogs and playing with dogs and and hair dye and sugar cookies and confessions under blankets and drawing and listening to my ladies express frustrations about frustrating Boys. Everything is interesting.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
buttons and mocha
Dear Harriet Walter,
I had a brief debate with Dr Mac today about whether the penultimate button on a man's dress shirt would be the second from the top or second from the bottom.
On further consideration, I think any opinion would stem from the direction one began buttoning one's shirt and that he and I must button from opposite ends.
Anyway here are a couple pictures of Best Friend and me from when she visited my college a couple weeks ago, taken by Upperclassman Shelli, who we spent a lovely afternoon with downtown.
Speaking of fashion, the weather has gotten slightly colder lately (now that it's late October and is probably all wet and freezing and orange back home), which means that scarves and leggings are showing up on girls and grubby jackets are showing up on guys and Professor Mine Enemy has moved from the warmer weather's ever-so-slightly not-quite-the-thing short-sleeved dress shirts (with ties, of course) to long-sleeved dress shirts, which is such a subtle yet enormous improvement I cannot even faithfully articulate it. I am well pleased altogether.
I had a brief debate with Dr Mac today about whether the penultimate button on a man's dress shirt would be the second from the top or second from the bottom.
On further consideration, I think any opinion would stem from the direction one began buttoning one's shirt and that he and I must button from opposite ends.
Anyway here are a couple pictures of Best Friend and me from when she visited my college a couple weeks ago, taken by Upperclassman Shelli, who we spent a lovely afternoon with downtown.
 |
| At a cafe in Mission Station. Best Friend (on left) had tea and a croissant, I had an iced mocha and a lemon bar, Shelli had Mexican hot chocolate in that there mug. These are important things. |
 |
| and near LA City Hall. |
 |
| and this is from the contra-dancing studio we went to. |
Thursday, October 13, 2011
midterm week
Dear Harriet Walter,
Oh lands. I used to think I was clever. I admit that now. These past few years, I had good discussions with my parents and mentors about literature and history and theology and poetry and philosophy. I got good grades. I had close middle-aged friends who were charmed by me, I was used to talking about interesting, mature things with intelligent middle-aged people. I made people laugh with my wordplay. I thought I was on my way to becoming a Proper Intellectual.
College has revealed to me that my intellect is not gazelle-like in its grace and speed. Academically speaking, I am in fact a grubby, dirty little three-legged kitten with many fleas and only one eye.
The odd thing is, I care more about how this is perceived by some than others. I'm proud when I do well for Math Professor because I have been shedding my mathematical fleas and doing better and he's lately become quite happy with my progress - being a dirty three-legged kitten is fine because I started from rock-bottom and have been improving, and he is a kind handler of kittens. I can handle Dr Mac seeing me as not brighter than average; I can't think of a good simile for him, but maybe he's like an intellectual bear. I respect him very very much, but his intellect comes across as being built on a normal person who's quite smart. Being a dim kitten is fine with him because he's approachable and understands dim wits and hurried writing and the struggles of students. In a way, I suppose he requires his students to work hard without expecting brilliance matching his own.
Professor Mine Enemy, on the other hand, is a saber-toothed tiger whose brain operates on a Higher Level. I'm not sure he understands how dumbness works. After his class yesterday, I paced furiously around campus, occasionally stomping, occasionally tearing at my hair, occasionally muttering, "I hate not being clever I hate not being clever I hate not being clever." This three-legged kitten wants to be able to totter up to the great, looming saber-toothed tiger and say, "Look at me! Look at me! I'm clever! I'm clever! I can brain, too! Just like you!"
Except that that is only wishful thinking.
Oh lands. I used to think I was clever. I admit that now. These past few years, I had good discussions with my parents and mentors about literature and history and theology and poetry and philosophy. I got good grades. I had close middle-aged friends who were charmed by me, I was used to talking about interesting, mature things with intelligent middle-aged people. I made people laugh with my wordplay. I thought I was on my way to becoming a Proper Intellectual.
College has revealed to me that my intellect is not gazelle-like in its grace and speed. Academically speaking, I am in fact a grubby, dirty little three-legged kitten with many fleas and only one eye.
The odd thing is, I care more about how this is perceived by some than others. I'm proud when I do well for Math Professor because I have been shedding my mathematical fleas and doing better and he's lately become quite happy with my progress - being a dirty three-legged kitten is fine because I started from rock-bottom and have been improving, and he is a kind handler of kittens. I can handle Dr Mac seeing me as not brighter than average; I can't think of a good simile for him, but maybe he's like an intellectual bear. I respect him very very much, but his intellect comes across as being built on a normal person who's quite smart. Being a dim kitten is fine with him because he's approachable and understands dim wits and hurried writing and the struggles of students. In a way, I suppose he requires his students to work hard without expecting brilliance matching his own.
Professor Mine Enemy, on the other hand, is a saber-toothed tiger whose brain operates on a Higher Level. I'm not sure he understands how dumbness works. After his class yesterday, I paced furiously around campus, occasionally stomping, occasionally tearing at my hair, occasionally muttering, "I hate not being clever I hate not being clever I hate not being clever." This three-legged kitten wants to be able to totter up to the great, looming saber-toothed tiger and say, "Look at me! Look at me! I'm clever! I'm clever! I can brain, too! Just like you!"
Except that that is only wishful thinking.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
bullet lists are totally a substitute for coherence
Dear Harriet Walter,
THINGS:
Speaking of watching L&O:UK, I never saw the episode after the one which ended with a certain person getting shot (fatally?) in a drive-by. I wonder how that turned out.
Now I am going to do a bit of math and watch Merlin because Merlin is back and I need me some campy goodness.
THINGS:
- I have overcome my deathly fear of people I know in real life reading my writing enough to give the url of this blog to my Auntlet today. Hello, Auntlet L.!
- I am super super excited about this Saturday. I think I mentioned it before. Several of us students are getting taken on a hike up to the Hollywood sign, out to lunch at In-N-Out and then to Amoeba Records and possibly to a coffeeshop. Apparently it's annual, although my school only moved to its Pasadena location at the beginning of last year. Most of my favorite people are going, and because it's Professor Mine Enemy's thing I am going to get to meet Mrs Professor Mine Enemy, who is coming along and who is somebody I have wondered about.
- Dr Mac has learned how to tie a bowtie recently. It looked quite nice on him, although he said he felt naked with no necktie and with his buttons exposed like that.
- I bought pink-and-white animal cookies at the shops today. I am content.
- I love Pasadena and Los Angeles. Why on earth did I ever consider going to college in Iowa? I mean I'm sure Dordt College is a perfectly excellent and unimpeachable college itself - both of Best Friend's parents graduated from there, and they turned out ok - but Iowa versus Los Angeles? The Midwest versus SoCal? Cows and cornfields versus one of the major cultural and economic centers of the world? Yeah, I think I made the right choice. (The third college-option was too expensive. And also not far enough from home.)
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| Pasadena City Hall, which I see regularly. Photo via Wikimedia Commons. |
- It rained all day yesterday. It was awesome.
- My grades are ok so far. They may plummet after my history midterm next week.
- My parents have finally set up Skype, so we video-called each other on Monday night when I was supposed to be doing math homework. Skyping is a good thing.
- I can do the basic steps and turns for the two-step and the waltz now. Education!
- I need to start studying somewhere I don't have access to the toys and thingums my Auntlet has sent to me.
- My mother has started up another blog. Two more, actually, but right now I'm going to link to the first. (No she has not written more in the very first blog she started up. I am hoping that with the less-structured style she's taken up for her newest 'un she will feel more free to piffle and thus write more.) I asked her if I could link to it, because I love my mumsy's writing, and she said yes so here is the link: Patter From Lavender Flat. It's written for an audience of her close friends and family so certain names, locations and situations will not be explained. If she writes in it, it will be Quality Stuff!
- One of the least awesome things about college is the fact that I don't have time to hunt down and watch things with you in them. I always intended to make this blog at least vaguely Harriet Walter-relevant (Walterelevant?), but now everything is all about me all the time. Blah. (At least I got my fix while I could watch Law & Order UK.) So, for the sake of cheerings-up and bright green dresses, let's have a couple of screencaps from one of my favorite movies.
Speaking of watching L&O:UK, I never saw the episode after the one which ended with a certain person getting shot (fatally?) in a drive-by. I wonder how that turned out.
Now I am going to do a bit of math and watch Merlin because Merlin is back and I need me some campy goodness.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
he would.
Dear Harriet Walter,
I had the theme from Lawrence of Arabia stuck in my head last night and all of today. What did I do about it?
The scene: one of my classrooms, early this afternoon. It is time for my philosophy/theology class with Dr Mac. Professor Mine Enemy is clearing out his things after teaching the Tuesday/Thursday section of his BTS111 class (I'm in Wednesday/Friday). Dr Mac has not yet arrived. The BTS students are gathering their things to leave and chattering, the philosophy students are finding seats and chattering. Loudly. Jim is eating a late lunch from a to-go box. I go and sit near the front, and raise my hand and wave it about at Professor Mine Enemy.
"Hey, I have a question," I call out.
"What? You weren't in my class today, you don't get to ask me questions," he says, grinning.
"Fine, I won't. No, seriously, one quick question."
"Okay, but I do need to get out of here."
"Have you ever ridden a camel?"
"Yes. It's awkward and uncomfortable."
"That's...that really makes me happy."
"Why? Why do you ask?"
"I don't know, it's just cool. And sometimes when I look at you, the theme from Lawrence of Arabia starts playing in my head."
"...You're kidding me.That's weird!"
"I know!"
It's probably just because he's always teaching us about the Middle East.
(Note that the above transcription is incomplete.)
I'm not sure why it's so much more fun to draw stick-camels than it is to write history papers, but it is.
I had the theme from Lawrence of Arabia stuck in my head last night and all of today. What did I do about it?
The scene: one of my classrooms, early this afternoon. It is time for my philosophy/theology class with Dr Mac. Professor Mine Enemy is clearing out his things after teaching the Tuesday/Thursday section of his BTS111 class (I'm in Wednesday/Friday). Dr Mac has not yet arrived. The BTS students are gathering their things to leave and chattering, the philosophy students are finding seats and chattering. Loudly. Jim is eating a late lunch from a to-go box. I go and sit near the front, and raise my hand and wave it about at Professor Mine Enemy.
"Hey, I have a question," I call out.
"What? You weren't in my class today, you don't get to ask me questions," he says, grinning.
"Fine, I won't. No, seriously, one quick question."
"Okay, but I do need to get out of here."
"Have you ever ridden a camel?"
"Yes. It's awkward and uncomfortable."
"That's...that really makes me happy."
"Why? Why do you ask?"
"I don't know, it's just cool. And sometimes when I look at you, the theme from Lawrence of Arabia starts playing in my head."
"...You're kidding me.That's weird!"
"I know!"
It's probably just because he's always teaching us about the Middle East.
 |
| What riding a camel looks like. |
(Note that the above transcription is incomplete.)
I'm not sure why it's so much more fun to draw stick-camels than it is to write history papers, but it is.
academic theology is so hipster
Dear Harriet Walter,
It's rather tiresome to write history and Bible papers when one's writing program is theologically illiterate. Microsoft Word is trying to tell me that "theogony" is not a word (and now so is Blogger! A red underline there before me as I write this! I am disappointed!), nor, it says, is "protevangelium", although, to be fair, the latter word isn't even in the regular dictionary. It's fine with "theophany" and "theosophy", though. (Blogger doesn't like "theophany". Well, that's ok, neither did the ancient Israelites.)
In other news, I miss my dog. He is the best dog of all the dogs. Here are three pictures of him.
Yeah, no one can ever be really sure what he's looking at. I love him anyway.
It's rather tiresome to write history and Bible papers when one's writing program is theologically illiterate. Microsoft Word is trying to tell me that "theogony" is not a word (and now so is Blogger! A red underline there before me as I write this! I am disappointed!), nor, it says, is "protevangelium", although, to be fair, the latter word isn't even in the regular dictionary. It's fine with "theophany" and "theosophy", though. (Blogger doesn't like "theophany". Well, that's ok, neither did the ancient Israelites.)
In other news, I miss my dog. He is the best dog of all the dogs. Here are three pictures of him.
 |
| Zis mah baaayyyybehhh. |
Yeah, no one can ever be really sure what he's looking at. I love him anyway.
Friday, September 30, 2011
guess who's going to a liberal arts college
Dear Harriet Walter,
One thing I was not expecting from college was the whole thing about everybody - including the boys - randomly singing Phantom of the Opera together. Sometimes with Freshman Danielle on piano.
Also, glancing over the last couple of posts, I feel like I should probably note that I do in fact have more than one professor. Shocking, I know. Let's briefly talk about my professors. I haven't come up with names for them yet, I'll do that later.
I have four professors for my five classes. I like them all. In no particular order, they are:
Oh frogs. Bedtime. Immediately. Why am I blogging. Gah.
*Last Wednesday, Freshman Danielle and I were in his class, and Danielle was trying to give her thoughts/feedback on something P.M.E. was talking about, and though he listened very politely, she trailed off with a smattering of "um"s and something like an "erm, nevermind".
"No, go on," said PME.
"I can't talk while you're looking at me," blurted Danielle. "It's really scary, I feel like such an idiot." She laughed weakly. Danielle, it is worth noting, is beautiful and loud and 6'2" and probably the most popular girl on campus. Danielle can talk in any situation.
"What? I'm not that scary!" protested PME with an exasperated laugh which implied volumes of similar past experiences with intimidated students. I badly wanted to snort loudly or give an obvious hoot at this, but I was too scared of drawing his attention.
One thing I was not expecting from college was the whole thing about everybody - including the boys - randomly singing Phantom of the Opera together. Sometimes with Freshman Danielle on piano.
Also, glancing over the last couple of posts, I feel like I should probably note that I do in fact have more than one professor. Shocking, I know. Let's briefly talk about my professors. I haven't come up with names for them yet, I'll do that later.
I have four professors for my five classes. I like them all. In no particular order, they are:
- Dr Mac. I will call him that because it doesn't actually name (full) names and because that is just who he is. Dr Mac is the Humanities guy around here. I'm in one of his ancient history/civilizations classes - I forget its full title - and his philosophy/theology class. He's kind of the college's show-professor, as he's not only one of the major Characters in the community, but I'm pretty sure visiting prospective-students and parents-thereof are usually made to sit in on his classes. He's youngish and handsome and brilliant and funny. Very, very droll. Great hair. Homeschools his three small boy-children, some of whom we see fairly often on campus. I'm quite fond of him.
- Communications Professor. I'm in his public speaking class this semester. He's in his late thirties, heavyish, very nice, very energetic and approachable. Not especially organized sometimes. History of working in the film industry (hey there, Los Angeles!) but now married with small children.
- Professor Mine Enemy. Teacher of Biblical and Theological Studies. I'm in his first-half-of-the-Old Testament class. Also one of the major Characters in this college. Actually a "Dr", not a "Prof.", but Doctor Mine Enemy doesn't have the same ring to it. Older. Sandy hair, glasses, scruffiness, possesses Parisian neckties. Aside from the usual line-up of B.A., M.A., another M.A., Ph.D. etc, has also studied in Europe and lived/studied in Israel. Married, three grown offspring and one grandinfant. Does not fully understand how terrifying some of us find him and his mind.* Obviously having a good time whenever teaching, perhaps especially in the face of maudlin freshman suffering. His brain is like a supernova made of diamonds and fire.
- Math/Business Professor. Adjunct. I'm in his remedial algebra class. Older, paternal. Kind. Patient with mathematical obtuseness. Good at explaining things. Enthusiastic about his work. Don't know much about his personal life yet.
Oh frogs. Bedtime. Immediately. Why am I blogging. Gah.
*Last Wednesday, Freshman Danielle and I were in his class, and Danielle was trying to give her thoughts/feedback on something P.M.E. was talking about, and though he listened very politely, she trailed off with a smattering of "um"s and something like an "erm, nevermind".
"No, go on," said PME.
"I can't talk while you're looking at me," blurted Danielle. "It's really scary, I feel like such an idiot." She laughed weakly. Danielle, it is worth noting, is beautiful and loud and 6'2" and probably the most popular girl on campus. Danielle can talk in any situation.
"What? I'm not that scary!" protested PME with an exasperated laugh which implied volumes of similar past experiences with intimidated students. I badly wanted to snort loudly or give an obvious hoot at this, but I was too scared of drawing his attention.
Friday, September 23, 2011
left to our own devices
Dear Harriet Walter,
I know I already posted today but a happy thought hit me just now.
Everybody is off bowling tonight, dressed as either hippies or preps, an event organized by the student senate. I chose not to go because I didn't see myself going. Fellow freshmen Patrick and Jim also chose not to go.
I finished my allotted homework earlier than expected and so treated myself to finally starting the latest Mary Russell mystery. (Fab so far.) When I was done for the time being, I went back into my room, leaving the door open, and went under my desk to put the book back on the desk-shelf.
"Hey, who's in there?" called out the voice of Jim.
"Just me," I said, emerging to put my travel pillow back on my desk chair and my cell phone on my desk. Jim and Patrick had been around earlier, when I was in the lounge reading and they were knocking on the doors of the empty girls' rooms for the sake of noise.
"Oh, it's Ruby. Hey, don't go in your bathroom." A stern eye and a pointing finger were directed at me through the crack of the open door jamb.
"But I need to wash my hands."
"Oh, you can go in the bathroom to wash your hands, that's ok."
"Glad to hear it."
I finished putting my things away and walked down the hall, where I found the two boys busily drawing on the mirrors of the girls' bathroom with dry-erase markers.
It was as I was washing my hands and looking at a doodle of a purple, mustachioed octopus wearing a top hat and monocle (and saying, "good aftermorn!") that the happy thought hit me.
"I have a fake mustache just like that one," I said. "I took mustaches with me to college, like a sensible person." I don't think the boys heard me; they were too busy snorting over one of their new creations.
After washing my hands, I walked back to my room, but heard the words "Does it work on here?", then stopped and half-turned before going in.
"Don't draw on the walls," I called out.
"We won't!" echoed back.
"Or the stalls. Or the floors."
"Too late!" cried Patrick cheerily.
I went into my room, closed the door and finally opened up the long-sealed package of fake mustaches my mother had bought for me back home.
I know I already posted today but a happy thought hit me just now.
Everybody is off bowling tonight, dressed as either hippies or preps, an event organized by the student senate. I chose not to go because I didn't see myself going. Fellow freshmen Patrick and Jim also chose not to go.
I finished my allotted homework earlier than expected and so treated myself to finally starting the latest Mary Russell mystery. (Fab so far.) When I was done for the time being, I went back into my room, leaving the door open, and went under my desk to put the book back on the desk-shelf.
"Hey, who's in there?" called out the voice of Jim.
"Just me," I said, emerging to put my travel pillow back on my desk chair and my cell phone on my desk. Jim and Patrick had been around earlier, when I was in the lounge reading and they were knocking on the doors of the empty girls' rooms for the sake of noise.
"Oh, it's Ruby. Hey, don't go in your bathroom." A stern eye and a pointing finger were directed at me through the crack of the open door jamb.
"But I need to wash my hands."
"Oh, you can go in the bathroom to wash your hands, that's ok."
"Glad to hear it."
I finished putting my things away and walked down the hall, where I found the two boys busily drawing on the mirrors of the girls' bathroom with dry-erase markers.
It was as I was washing my hands and looking at a doodle of a purple, mustachioed octopus wearing a top hat and monocle (and saying, "good aftermorn!") that the happy thought hit me.
"I have a fake mustache just like that one," I said. "I took mustaches with me to college, like a sensible person." I don't think the boys heard me; they were too busy snorting over one of their new creations.
After washing my hands, I walked back to my room, but heard the words "Does it work on here?", then stopped and half-turned before going in.
"Don't draw on the walls," I called out.
"We won't!" echoed back.
"Or the stalls. Or the floors."
"Too late!" cried Patrick cheerily.
I went into my room, closed the door and finally opened up the long-sealed package of fake mustaches my mother had bought for me back home.
"'Hey Ruby!'" said Jim in monotone from outside my door as he read from the post-it note stuck to the aforementioned door, "'I love you! If you need to talk, you know where I am! Love, Danielle.'"
"Oh," I said, "have you changed your name, Jim?"
"Yes."
"I like it, it suits you."
"Thank you."
"Hey, man, are we still gonna watch Inception?" said Patrick.
this post is longer than six long things at a funeral
Dear Harriet Walter,
At last, this week is done! The first exam I had was a Bible exam on Wednesday (Professor Mine Enemy's class; he's the Associate Professor of Biblical and Theological Studies at this college and I'm in his general first-half-of-the-Old Testament class), which was predictably difficult. And P.M.E. was obviously amused by our wailing and gnashing of teeth, damn him. I think I did pretty well, though.
The second exam was for my remedial algebra class on Thursday morning. Did I ever mention that my math class normally starts at 7:55am? The test started at 7:30am, which is just straight-up vulgar. I didn't manage to finish all 90 questions. Still waiting to hear if I passed that.
The third exam was for my public speaking class, and started ten minutes after I was done with my math exam. This was not a big deal, though, as we weren't giving actual speeches or anything, just doing a normal papery test. I did well.
I AM GLAD TO BE DONE WITH THIS WEEK IS ALL
Now this weekend I have to revise my tribute speech for public speaking class and start practicing it before delivering it on Tuesday or Thursday, start writing a paper for Old Testament class, catch up on reading for History class and start thinking about my next paper for that and do a frig-ton of math homework.
On a completely different note, I think the clearest and simplest difference between a Christian and a non-Christian might be the way they react to being given a free Bible. I go to a Christian college, see, and during chapel this morning our guest speaker (who is a different person every week) was somebody who - if I remember correctly - had been involved in the original marketing of the ESV (English Standard Version) Bible, which is a pretty commonly used edition on this campus, and he brought a few boxes of lovely, supple, engraved-faux-leather-with-gold-edges ESV Value Thinline Editions to give to us students for free. We were all totally thrilled like "SWEEEET, FREE BIBLES!" I chose a brown one and I love mine and appreciate getting it very much. But if I was a nonbeliever, somebody trying to foist a Bible on me would be super annoying and I would be irritated at them trying to tell me how to live my life and so on.
Professor Mine Enemy had to go and murder my joy, however. He was in chapel that morning too, and I have his class right after lunch which is right after chapel, and in that class he made clear to us that we were not allowed to take our new, super-light ESVs to his Bible class but had to keep bringing our ESV Study Bibles for reference as usual. Have you ever seen an ESV Study Bible? They're different from the ones we got today, those are just the straight-up Bible with nothing added. ESV Study Bibles are the ones with a million billion trillion notes and maps and things. Their pages are so thin you can read the other side easily but nevertheless they weigh a ton. They are actual factual bricks. I use mine as a bookend to prop up my very very heavy collection of textbooks. I was so hoping I wouldn't have to lug mine to his class anymore! But no. Damn him.
To be fair, that was a really good class he taught today. Much too exciting for a Friday afternoon, but good nonetheless.
TOO MUCH BLATHER, TIME FOR A LIST
Things I am looking forward to in October:
STILL TOO MUCH BLATHER, HERE IS A PICTURE
AND ANOTHER PICTURE BECAUSE THAT WAS A LOT OF TEXT
i think being forced to write clearly and concisely on essay questions and papers is making me take out my natural piffle-mindedness on my poor unprepared blog and my long-suffering mother, i'm going to stop writing now
At last, this week is done! The first exam I had was a Bible exam on Wednesday (Professor Mine Enemy's class; he's the Associate Professor of Biblical and Theological Studies at this college and I'm in his general first-half-of-the-Old Testament class), which was predictably difficult. And P.M.E. was obviously amused by our wailing and gnashing of teeth, damn him. I think I did pretty well, though.
The second exam was for my remedial algebra class on Thursday morning. Did I ever mention that my math class normally starts at 7:55am? The test started at 7:30am, which is just straight-up vulgar. I didn't manage to finish all 90 questions. Still waiting to hear if I passed that.
The third exam was for my public speaking class, and started ten minutes after I was done with my math exam. This was not a big deal, though, as we weren't giving actual speeches or anything, just doing a normal papery test. I did well.
I AM GLAD TO BE DONE WITH THIS WEEK IS ALL
Now this weekend I have to revise my tribute speech for public speaking class and start practicing it before delivering it on Tuesday or Thursday, start writing a paper for Old Testament class, catch up on reading for History class and start thinking about my next paper for that and do a frig-ton of math homework.
On a completely different note, I think the clearest and simplest difference between a Christian and a non-Christian might be the way they react to being given a free Bible. I go to a Christian college, see, and during chapel this morning our guest speaker (who is a different person every week) was somebody who - if I remember correctly - had been involved in the original marketing of the ESV (English Standard Version) Bible, which is a pretty commonly used edition on this campus, and he brought a few boxes of lovely, supple, engraved-faux-leather-with-gold-edges ESV Value Thinline Editions to give to us students for free. We were all totally thrilled like "SWEEEET, FREE BIBLES!" I chose a brown one and I love mine and appreciate getting it very much. But if I was a nonbeliever, somebody trying to foist a Bible on me would be super annoying and I would be irritated at them trying to tell me how to live my life and so on.
Professor Mine Enemy had to go and murder my joy, however. He was in chapel that morning too, and I have his class right after lunch which is right after chapel, and in that class he made clear to us that we were not allowed to take our new, super-light ESVs to his Bible class but had to keep bringing our ESV Study Bibles for reference as usual. Have you ever seen an ESV Study Bible? They're different from the ones we got today, those are just the straight-up Bible with nothing added. ESV Study Bibles are the ones with a million billion trillion notes and maps and things. Their pages are so thin you can read the other side easily but nevertheless they weigh a ton. They are actual factual bricks. I use mine as a bookend to prop up my very very heavy collection of textbooks. I was so hoping I wouldn't have to lug mine to his class anymore! But no. Damn him.
To be fair, that was a really good class he taught today. Much too exciting for a Friday afternoon, but good nonetheless.
TOO MUCH BLATHER, TIME FOR A LIST
Things I am looking forward to in October:
- October 8th Professor Mine Enemy is taking any students who are interested on a hike up to/around the Hollywood Sign and then driving us to Amoeba Records. I am excited for various reasons.
- October 14th-15th is one of the campus visit weekends, and because Best Friend is a high school senior now and looking at colleges, she is visiting my college to look at it and therefore she is also staying with Roommate Courtney and me. I am going to see her again! It will be exceedingly excellent.
- I believe that on the night of the 15th the dance club (which I am in) is going out to a contra-dance studio to learn a spot of contra-dancing. Don't know if Best Friend will still be here or not, but if she is she will not object to going out dancing on a Saturday night. I am looking forward to this.
- Sometime the week after that, Best Friend's father is flying down to my campus and is taking me out for lunch. He's not coming down specifically to take me out to lunch, he's on the board of directors or trustees or something and has to go to meetings or whatever. He's actually the reason I'm here, as I would never have heard about this college if he hadn't suggested it when I was looking at colleges.
STILL TOO MUCH BLATHER, HERE IS A PICTURE
 |
| Some of my classmates and me next to a piece of the Berlin Wall. |
AND ANOTHER PICTURE BECAUSE THAT WAS A LOT OF TEXT
 |
| L to R: me, roommate courtney, freshman sheilla, also my posture is not always that bad |
i think being forced to write clearly and concisely on essay questions and papers is making me take out my natural piffle-mindedness on my poor unprepared blog and my long-suffering mother, i'm going to stop writing now
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
fierce!
Dear Harriet Walter,
Here is a quote, which I found relevant to my life, from an excerpt of Airs, Waters, Places, a thing about the effects geography and climate have on societies which was probably written by a disciple of Hippocrates:
Emphasis mine.
Three exams to do this week! Let me die. Well, no; let me be fierce.
Pictures from life soon, I think. In the meantime, philosophy/theology class.
Post-class PS: We watched the first half of The Truman Show instead of talking. Such an awesome class. I should be studying for my tests now, but I decided to screw around with my blog layout instead. (I was never going to be that kind of college student and yet here we are.) It's blue now. It has a picture of me taken at the Reagan Library and Museum last Saturday in the Air Force One exhibit thing. Doesn't it look perfectly hideous? So amateur, and I can't adjust the size or font of the blog description. Oh well. The brown was getting on my nerves. This, at least, is brighter. I'll make it yellow and white soon or something.
Here is a quote, which I found relevant to my life, from an excerpt of Airs, Waters, Places, a thing about the effects geography and climate have on societies which was probably written by a disciple of Hippocrates:
"A variable climate produces a nature which is coupled with a fierce, hot-headed and discordant temperament, for frequent fears cause a fierce attitude of mind whereas quietness and calm dull the wits."
Emphasis mine.
Three exams to do this week! Let me die. Well, no; let me be fierce.
Pictures from life soon, I think. In the meantime, philosophy/theology class.
Post-class PS: We watched the first half of The Truman Show instead of talking. Such an awesome class. I should be studying for my tests now, but I decided to screw around with my blog layout instead. (I was never going to be that kind of college student and yet here we are.) It's blue now. It has a picture of me taken at the Reagan Library and Museum last Saturday in the Air Force One exhibit thing. Doesn't it look perfectly hideous? So amateur, and I can't adjust the size or font of the blog description. Oh well. The brown was getting on my nerves. This, at least, is brighter. I'll make it yellow and white soon or something.
Friday, September 16, 2011
I blame sugar cones and my professor for everything
Dear Harriet Walter,
I will have been in college for exactly one full month next Monday!
I also run a gamut of emotions regularly. I can go from utter despondence and sitting on the floor weeping over the phone to my mom to giddy spinning in chairs to exhaustion and emotional dead zones to being high on sugar and brain-buzzingness while listening to Elvis, all within less than 24 hours.
It's still weird having a Fresh Start. None of these college people have known me very long; they all know my name, but it's still new to them when I'm being me or expressing myself in my own ways. My family will just ignore me or sometimes smile pityingly whenever I'm off doing something dumb, so I'm used to people being used to me, if that makes any sense, but here it's apparently an unusual thing to start spinning rapidly down the dorm hallway, get disoriented and smack into a wall, say "hi, wall!" and go beaming and skipping off. (I'd just gotten back from my first proper swing-dance lesson - the dance club meeting last week was just official non-dancey business - and I'd had chocolate ice cream on a sugar cone after dinner, what the frig else was I going to be doing?)
In other news, I'm horribly behind on math, I have to write an outline for my first speech for public speaking class, Professor Mine Enemy continues to be both intimidating and to have the most exciting brain in the world, my Auntlet sent me another package and this one was full of shirts and shoes and jewelry and other odds and ends, Mother has been sending me small weekly packages full of tasty snacking-things, everything is awesome right now and in three or fours hours' time it will probably all be horrible.
(Also, I bought the book of The Scarlet Pimpernel online. Immediately after seeing the shockingly late estimated arrival date, an idiotic little voice inside me said hey, this book is old and well loved, it is probably on Project Gutenberg, I could read the first couple of chapters online just to keep myself going. The book arrived last Tuesday, I think. I had finished reading it two weeks before.)
(ALSO ROOMMATE COURTNEY AND R.A. AUGUST HAVE ACTUALLY BOTH READ IT WHICH MAKES ME HAPPY)
*Edit: I forgot to add that there is absolutely no feeling in the world like being comfortably settled in one's bed and accomplishments at the end of a long day and on the far side of drifting off to sleep when it occurs to one that one did not thoroughly read one's history paper through before submitting it online and it might still have editorial comments which one might have forgotten to remove before submitting it.
Oh my lands it was like the floor under my bunk bed disappeared and I plunged down into a pit of ice water. That is how bad that moment was.
Thankfully I checked the document the next day and my fears were unfounded! The paper wasn't especially good, but it had no parenthetical notes to self saying to rewrite the thesis statement, at least.
I will have been in college for exactly one full month next Monday!
I also run a gamut of emotions regularly. I can go from utter despondence and sitting on the floor weeping over the phone to my mom to giddy spinning in chairs to exhaustion and emotional dead zones to being high on sugar and brain-buzzingness while listening to Elvis, all within less than 24 hours.
It's still weird having a Fresh Start. None of these college people have known me very long; they all know my name, but it's still new to them when I'm being me or expressing myself in my own ways. My family will just ignore me or sometimes smile pityingly whenever I'm off doing something dumb, so I'm used to people being used to me, if that makes any sense, but here it's apparently an unusual thing to start spinning rapidly down the dorm hallway, get disoriented and smack into a wall, say "hi, wall!" and go beaming and skipping off. (I'd just gotten back from my first proper swing-dance lesson - the dance club meeting last week was just official non-dancey business - and I'd had chocolate ice cream on a sugar cone after dinner, what the frig else was I going to be doing?)
In other news, I'm horribly behind on math, I have to write an outline for my first speech for public speaking class, Professor Mine Enemy continues to be both intimidating and to have the most exciting brain in the world, my Auntlet sent me another package and this one was full of shirts and shoes and jewelry and other odds and ends, Mother has been sending me small weekly packages full of tasty snacking-things, everything is awesome right now and in three or fours hours' time it will probably all be horrible.
(Also, I bought the book of The Scarlet Pimpernel online. Immediately after seeing the shockingly late estimated arrival date, an idiotic little voice inside me said hey, this book is old and well loved, it is probably on Project Gutenberg, I could read the first couple of chapters online just to keep myself going. The book arrived last Tuesday, I think. I had finished reading it two weeks before.)
(ALSO ROOMMATE COURTNEY AND R.A. AUGUST HAVE ACTUALLY BOTH READ IT WHICH MAKES ME HAPPY)
*Edit: I forgot to add that there is absolutely no feeling in the world like being comfortably settled in one's bed and accomplishments at the end of a long day and on the far side of drifting off to sleep when it occurs to one that one did not thoroughly read one's history paper through before submitting it online and it might still have editorial comments which one might have forgotten to remove before submitting it.
Oh my lands it was like the floor under my bunk bed disappeared and I plunged down into a pit of ice water. That is how bad that moment was.
Thankfully I checked the document the next day and my fears were unfounded! The paper wasn't especially good, but it had no parenthetical notes to self saying to rewrite the thesis statement, at least.
Monday, September 12, 2011
my life is basically a Greek tragedy
Dear Harriet Walter,
Lately I have taken to mentally listing all of my problems (which are rapidly increasing in number and panic-inducement-potential) and adding the phrase "- and I feel fine!" at the end. Actually feeling less and less over the past few days. "Fine" is a positive word for it.
Two general, non-homework-related problems have arisen since I've been here at college. One is a puzzling and bizarre little internal emotional kerfuffle which occupies my thoughts a good chunk of all of the time and which was not a problem I expected from college even to the point of being aware of it as a possibility, and the other is the state of my feet. My feet just keep getting more and more damaged the longer I'm shuffling around in flip-flops all the time. They're not only dirty but bruised, blistered, sunburned and now scraped and oozing yellow goo. What joy.
Now, back to math.
(Damn everything.)
Lately I have taken to mentally listing all of my problems (which are rapidly increasing in number and panic-inducement-potential) and adding the phrase "- and I feel fine!" at the end. Actually feeling less and less over the past few days. "Fine" is a positive word for it.
Two general, non-homework-related problems have arisen since I've been here at college. One is a puzzling and bizarre little internal emotional kerfuffle which occupies my thoughts a good chunk of all of the time and which was not a problem I expected from college even to the point of being aware of it as a possibility, and the other is the state of my feet. My feet just keep getting more and more damaged the longer I'm shuffling around in flip-flops all the time. They're not only dirty but bruised, blistered, sunburned and now scraped and oozing yellow goo. What joy.
Now, back to math.
(Damn everything.)
Friday, September 9, 2011
I just like bullet lists ok
Dear Harriet Walter,
Here is a list of things that are making me unhappy today:
And here is a list of things that are making me happy today:
Overall it could all be worse!
(why am I blogging instead of studying why why why whyyy, because it helps me put things in order that's why, but I have so much to dooooo aaaagh)
Here is a list of things that are making me unhappy today:
- I got an hour less sleep than I intended to get.
- I have to write my first history paper by Wednesday and do not feel the least bit confident in my paper-writin' skills. I also have to pick a topic-person for my tribute speech for public speaking class and start working on that.
- I have to study math like crazy and it takes me too long to do.
- I need more time to do things in.
- I miss my mom.
And here is a list of things that are making me happy today:
- I look nice. I've got on black shorts, a well-fitted red polo shirt and a skinny black necktie.
- I had the foresight to get two cookies at lunch. I'm always hungry after classes are done. I spent the whole of my last class thinking "there is a soft delicious chocolate chip cookie waiting for me in my messenger bag".
- Campus Beach Day is tomorrow. (Small school = we can get all of us onto a beach no problem.)
- Professor Mine Enemy was wearing a panda tie.
- Professor Mine Enemy had us do a quick quiz of five questions, but was six minutes late to class due to printer difficulties, leaving me just enough time to review the textbook chapter summaries. I got everything on the quiz right! (I'm homeschooled, okay, I've never had quizzes before, it's all new to me)
- I feel much less intimidated by Professor Mine Enemy today. Not only because of the endearing tie and the quiz success, but also this is because after class was done and I had got my books in order (one must always have one's bag ready to flee with whenever taking risks), I went up and asked him an intelligent question about a thing and he answered cheerfully and talked with me about it a bit and everything was ok. (He couldn't give me specific details on what I wanted to know about, but a general answer worked fine for me. The important bit was the encounter, not the knowledge.)
- I've signed up to join the ballroom dance club and our first meeting is this afternoon.
- This evening I'm going to go to see Laurie R King at a book signing for her latest Mary Russell mystery. (I have grown up on those books.) I am excited.
Overall it could all be worse!
(why am I blogging instead of studying why why why whyyy, because it helps me put things in order that's why, but I have so much to dooooo aaaagh)
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
there is one grand thing
Dear Harriet Walter,
Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, baked beans, damn, damn and damn.
(Math 100. Remedial algebra class. Didn't study math enough in high school, scored badly on math bit of SAT.)
Damn.
Anyway, just for kicks, here is a picture of me at La Plaza in Los Angeles taken last Saturday as I was being taught the history of the city along with most of my freshman class and a few upperclassmen. I had a squinty face but I like the lighting. (Photo by Roommate Courtney, who is very good.)
Cannot wait to get my own camera. Also, extra notes:
...and she also sent me:
(post-class PS: the title of this post is from my notes on the word "monists", which I learned today in my philosophy/theology class)
Damn. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, damn, baked beans, damn, damn and damn.
(Math 100. Remedial algebra class. Didn't study math enough in high school, scored badly on math bit of SAT.)
Damn.
Anyway, just for kicks, here is a picture of me at La Plaza in Los Angeles taken last Saturday as I was being taught the history of the city along with most of my freshman class and a few upperclassmen. I had a squinty face but I like the lighting. (Photo by Roommate Courtney, who is very good.)
 |
| L to R: Mr B the director of student activies, Freshman Luke, me. |
Cannot wait to get my own camera. Also, extra notes:
- Mother and I have begun abbreviating "The Scarlet Pimpernel" to "Spimper" for ease of texting. It amuses.
- My Auntlet sent me - wait, have I talked about my Auntlet? She's an older woman who is one of my very best friends for life, she's not an actual aunt but I've known her since I was nine years old and within the past year or two we've become very close friends, she's the most extraordinary woman and she absolutely adores me and I literally am not even sure why - anyway my Auntlet sent me a care package containing a stuffed carrot toy/pillow thing with a happy face and arms and legs and his green leafery is boxer shorts so he's kind of upside-down and so hard to describe so here's a webcam picture:
...and she also sent me:
- one fancy kaleidoscope with three color-stick-things which one sticks into the kaleidoscope,
- one tiny toy bird thing which one can stick into things and
- two wooden tops which look either like apples or acorns, I'm not sure, but probably just mutant apples because they're red and green.
- (Mother sent me a care package full of snacks and junk food. Thanks, Mom, I love the gummy dinosaurs!)
- I believe my Auntlet is also sending me a memory-foam mattress pad, orange Christmas lights for my dorm room and new clothes, because she's just amazing like that. She's like my fairy godmother, personal Santa Claus, Daddy-Long-Legs, cheerleader, number 1 fan, antiqueing buddy and therapist rolled into a great big beautiful mess of love and support. And why does she love me so much, anyway?! She sees right through me and understands me and loves what she sees and I don't even feel like I've deliberately revealed much of my self to her but I don't need to because she gets me and it's very alarming and unsettling because I'm a very private person and thought I was more mysterious and obscure than that augh. BLESSINGS AND GREAT FORTUNE ARE WEIRD BASICALLY
(post-class PS: the title of this post is from my notes on the word "monists", which I learned today in my philosophy/theology class)
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