Out Like This Fad

I have moved (thank you Robby, Charlie and Lila for your help! Best Christmas present ever.) I love it here. I even decorated.

Downside is that I'm all flavors of broke until my financial aid comes in in mid-January. Take me out and buy me things if you want. The way this affects you and I and our relationship primarily is that I am without internet access until then, because my laptop is busted (monitor is shot among other problems.) And I can't get a new one until I get some cash money. Or some check money.

Also, TCF doesn't exchange currency and therefore I'm going to curse their name with my dying breath.

There Was A Day In The Graveyard

I spent all of yesterday working on that distance learning class and I still have so much to do but I don't want to do it. I think at some point today I'm going to have to find my UK cell phones and my flat key that I accidentally took with me and take them to the UPS store to be mailed. Which also doesn't sound like a winning prospect. I have a headache and I haven't been sleeping well for weeks. These two things are probably related.

I'm still searching for jobs but not one place I've applied to has called me. I'm down in the dregs now applying for jobs I don't really want that don't really pay enough, just to have some sort of income. Unemployment is lame. You know what's also lame? Justin Timberlake is bringing sexy back, and he is singing about it in my head. Actually, that's probably why I have the headache.

I woke up in a bad mood and it hasn't gotten better. Ah, Christmas. Nothing like the holiday season to bring out the crankiness in even the most placid and even-tempered of us (me.) (Also the picture is what happens when you Google Image Search for the phrase "bad mood.")

You should call me and give me a job.

Runaway Train Never Coming Back, Wrong Way On A One-Way Track

You know what's really, ridiculously fun? The Nintendo Wii. Specifically boxing, tennis, and bowling on the Nintendo Wii. My arm hurts.

You know what's also fun? Watching COPS with someone who graduated from law school. There's a lot more shouting of "Fuck you, officer" than you'd think.

I am living the good life these days. If the good life involves sleeping on a luxurious couch and eating at Chipotle every day (which it does.) I had Belgian chocolates for breakfast while I made another desperate attempt to rectify my failures in this distance-learning class. I read two chapters but I got to the assignment page and I wanted to die, so I wrote you this letter and regretted eating chocolates instead.

Last night I had dinner with the usual gang (minus Chad, who at least had the decency to call me and tell me he couldn't make it--after I was already back home) at Little Tijuana's. I had a big banana split that I made Charlie help me with. Everyone else had some sort of Mexican cuisine that nobody was too thrilled about. The best thing about Little T's, besides the waitstaff who each look like an extra in a Mad Max remake, is that they provide you with crayons and butcher paper to draw on while you're dining. I would love to work there just to see what people come up with--it's the best kind of microcosmic social anthropology I can think of. Last night the six of us drew such varied images as Christmas trees, Hannukah candelabra, silverware, Satan, a Super Mario Bros. "Goomba" with boobs for eyes, a horrible car accident, an American flag with the pole stuck in an apple pie and a baseball flying by in the foreground, and a nativity scene where baby Jesus is holding a gun. Needless to say, a good time was had by all.

I hate distance learning.

Star Trek III Is A Surprisingly Good Movie

I came back! I'm in Uptown until the 22 when I am moving into the Chateau.

Flight home was long but fine.

I love Minnesota.

I'm So Tired Of People Thinking Binge Drinking Is The Apex of Life

I just finished packing (I think) because I'm leaving for the airport tomorrow at 8 AM. There's a lot of frenetic cleaning and packing and swearing and muttering and idle threats to people who can't hear them, so the Christmas spirit is in the air.

I went to the British Museum today and yes, I saw the Rosetta Stone. Also a bunch of Assyrian art that is inspiring. I love the Ancient Near East.

Leona won the finale of X Factor but Ray is still the cutest boy in the whole world. If he gets a record deal I will buy his album. Not so much hers, she sounds kind of the same as everyone else.

I'm not wearing my glasses right now and I have the eyestrain.

I'm coming home and I don't really know how to feel about it. I guess it would be different if I actually had a familiar home to come back to. Like you know when people have been away for a while and they get inside their front door and they kind of sigh and go "It's good to be home?" I don't have a front door. Not that I'd want to go back to any of my old homes. I just hate getting used to new places and it seems like that's all I ever do.

I'm so whingey. Gross, no. Screw the Brits, it's whiny whiny. I'm. So. Whiny.

Also, deep.

This Fog Is So Thick I Can't See My Own Cataracts

I decided that since I live in London for the next 36 hours or so, I might as well see a bit or two, so today I went to Westminster Abbey, Big Ben, and the Houses of Parliament. I only went into Westminster Abbey. It was beautiful. Then I went up to Oxford Circus and walked down to Picadilly Circus and looked at all the Christmas lights. But it gets dark here at 3 PM and my flash isn't working on my camera, so I gave up and came home. Then I talked to Robby for an hour and we both made what were possibly most tasteless jokes in the history of America. The more things change, the more they etc.

I am regaining possession of my old cell phone on the 18 (Monday.) Barring anything unforeseen. So feel free to give me a call sometime after that--I won't have much else going on, I think, besides moving (which I'm allegedly taking care of the 22.)

I have an Indian pop song in my head but I don't know the words.

I feel kind of bad about this whole study abroad thing. Not bad, exactly. It's just that a lot of people are like, 'this is so amazing, this changed my life.' And I don't feel like that at all. I mean, I'm glad I came, and it's been fun. But it's not exactly the first time I've been on my own in an unfamiliar environment, and frankly I didn't find London nearly challenging enough. So then when I talk to people who are like "Isn't it the most amazing thing ever?" I can't decide whether to lie or to say "Well, no. Sorry." Because it is amazing, I guess. I don't know, if I learned nothing else from my various health professionals over the years, I've learned that I'm not good at naming my feelings. ("How do you feel?" "I don't know, bad?" "Bad in what way?" "Um, you know how sometimes you feel good? Not that.") But I mean, coming to London made the whole Peace Corps decision easy, and if I hadn't been here I wouldn't have found the Master's program I really want. And it's not been bad. Just, I guess, not life-changing. Not more than anything else, which is to say most things in my life are life-changing because I'm never in the same place or doing the same thing for very long. I'm sure that's the problem.

I'm sure glad my skin broke out just before I'm coming home.

Who wants to go to the Aveda Institute and get a haircut with me soon?

Colin Meloy Can't Achieve Orgasm

The Decemberists are having a t-shirt design contest in association with Threadless. Look through the submissions, they're pretty much universally bad. Except the "Got Milk" one, if only because it obviously doesn't belong there.

I have to go donate a bunch of books to the CAPA library, go to the Sainsbury's to pick up some last minute items, and then go to Makenzi's Champagne Christmas party before going to the CAPA goodbye party and stuffing my face with more free food.

Also, last night's office Christmas party was really fun and we all got pretty knackered and there were lots of hugs and wine and Thai food. Good times.

I woke up with a horrible hangover at 6 AM.

I hate it when the wind whistles through the cracks in the facade.

I WOBBLES

I HATE BEING DRUNK ON THE TUBE

Whenever I Get Free Time I Apply For Jobs Online

I pretty much have parties for the next two days. Tonight is my office Christmas party, followed by another office Christmas party (this one at a posh Thai restaurant--I wish I hadn't eaten so much rice at lunch.) Then tomorrow night I'm going to Makenzi's for a Champagne Christmas celebration, and then the CAPA goodbye party at a trendy bar on Ken High Street. To celebrate, I bought a new scarf that has sparkly silver threads in it and hangs down to my knees. It cost me 2 pounds because Primark is ludicrously cheap. I also bought footless tights, this season's must-have apparently, that only cost 1 pound.

This whole thing is drawing to a close, you know.

I'm missing Mass at Westminster Abbey with Kassie and Courtney to go to my parties tonight and I'm sad. Well, not that sad.

I wanted to get all tarted up Christmas style tonight but I gave up and put on the same clothes I'm always wearing. Plus make-up and hair styling seemed really tiring so I didn't bother. So I'm not exactly the belle of the ball, but I have this scarf, and there will be free booze.

It's a nice feeling being done.

Seems Like The Classy Thing To Do Would Be Not To Mention It

I've basically stopped sleeping. I just roll around all night thinking how much happier I'd be if I were asleep. And then if I do manage to fall asleep, I have nightmares. I'm no psychiatrist, but I might be under a high level of stress.

Today I signed up for what has to be the last class I register for this semester. It's a class on working with families who are experiencing grief and loss. Seems like kind of a downer. It's 1 credit which is nice, A-F which is not. Also it's on Saturdays from 9:30-4:30. Only two Saturdays, which isn't bad for one credit. It's not like I'm giving up my Saturdays, either, because for all of the other ones I'm volunteering on Saturday mornings for the Children's Defense Fund, screening families for free healthcare and other social services. Pretty much you should expect to see me about as much next semester as you did this semester.

Anyway, the point is, I'm taking 17 credits next semester to make up for the fact that I'm slacking off with only 13 here. 17 credits translates into 7 classes (that Saturday class, a 1-credit learn-to-play-squash class, and 5 real classes.) And six days a week I have to be somewhere by 9:30 AM or earlier. I figured it might be nice to have a full schedule and not sit around wishing someone fun would call me. I'm giving up on counting on other people to be fun.

Also I just applied for a job I really want but won't get, because I think it's only for Journalism/Mass Communications majors. The ad for it was unclear. It's a research job that for some reason involves blogging. I thought, I bet I could make that happen.

I should be reading the study notes for Uncle Vanya (by Chekov! Chekov, that's his name. How could I forget Chekov? Maybe because I haven't slept in days.) I have a final in one hour. And then I'm done, done, done.

I Can't Stop This Feeling Deep Inside Of Me (Feels Like Failure)

On the agenda, in no particular order:

*Complete the last MAXSA assignment, which will likely be two pages of the words "This is such complete bullshit." Ending with "Screw Flanders." When all else fails, make a Simpsons reference that everyone can enjoy.

*Read The House of Barnarda Alba by Federico Garcia Lorca.

*Read Dancing at Lughnasa by Brian Friel.

*Read the SparkNotes for Uncle Vanya by some Russian whose name I can't remember. In case you were keeping track, this is in fact half a semester's worth of reading.

*Write the introduction, conclusion, and supplementary bits of my PELA paper, which is already 17 pages long and will only get longer and longer. I anticipate the introduction to be no less than four pages. I am long-winded. (Cf: everything you've ever known about me.)

Due date for all of this: Monday, December 11. Also known as "tomorrow."

I am an academic superstar.

*****

Reason #646 Why You've Always Hated Me:

I finished everything but Uncle Vanya. Which doesn't have to be done until Tuesday. Sure, my PELA conclusion is a little weak, but you know what? It's done. So, procrastinators everywhere, let's band together to shun the nonbelievers and proclaim "By God I can do a semester's worth of work in one weekend!" [cue KC and the Sunshine Band]

Sometimes I Hold My Breath For No Reason

Tonight was the X Factor semi-final. It was really, really...good. Everyone in the room, including me, is utterly in love with criminally young Ray, who croons Sinatra without the martinis and cigarettes and is generally the cutest boy in the whole world. He was up against Leona, who is going to win and deserves to win. She's gorgeous, she sings like a less diseased version of Mariah Carey but without all the showboating, and she outdistances the competition by a mile. Also Ben, a skinny guy who sings like Meat Loaf and should rethink his long hair. All of them all right, for different reasons, but obviously we were rooting against Ben. When the results show came on, they announced Leona would go through to the final, leaving just Ben and Ray. There was some tension in the air as X Factor dragged it out for as long as humanly possible...and then announced that Ray would be in the final. We all screamed out loud and Chris, who was sitting on Tory's bed, jumped for joy and his ass promptly broke through the slats supporting her mattress. She pulled him out of the hole and we took the mattress off, revealing that three of the crappy cheap wooden boards that were supporting her mattress had snapped clean in half. After some clean-up (Chris pulled the remains of the boards off the frame) we put the mattress back up, but I'll laugh pretty hard if it falls through onto Brittany's bed during the night.

And for your edification, below is a clip of X Factor featuring Ray singing My Way. He is the cutest thing in the world. And if you're Marie and you're reading this, fuck you. I love Ray.

Seventeen Pages Later You Realize I'm Narrating Your Life

I've been writing this PELA paper for so long that I think my eyes have actually crossed. And yet, I haven't come up with one single interesting thing to say.

I have until 4:30 PM on Monday to finish it, and it's already over 16 pages long. And I'm not nearly done. Oh no, my friends. I like to start a paper in the middle, so I have yet to write an introduction or a conclusion. I have no idea what to address in either so they'll probably be another 17 pages of incoherence and name-dropping. And pretention, a good solid dab of pretention. I used the term de rigueur without batting an eye.

Last night there was fighting. It wasn't my problem. There was also drinking but apparently the 5.5% alcohol-by-volume liter bottles just don't thrill me anymore as I drank one and a beer and I was still as cold sober as when I walked in the room. Which I don't get because some days two beers is enough to tip me over.

I sliced the back of my ankle off the other day in a shaving incident, and the gory red mass has started itching, which will be the text of the note they find pinned to my jacket when they discover my body on the District Line tracks at the back of this building.

I didn't mean to stop loving you, but I'm pretty sure I did.

Well, It Is What It Is

I have UB40's "Red Red Wine" stuck in my head and I'm going to put a bullet through my ear to remedy that.

Yesterday was my last day of work. I did nothing. To commemorate this occasion, Tory and I drank a lot of wine with Marie, and then went upstairs to celebrate Big Anthony's graduation. Which involved a lot more drinking, a spirited game of Sardines, and then a game of Capture the Flag which involved Freeze Tag rules, water pistols, and growing hostility. It was pretty exhausting.

I slept until 1 PM today. I'm going to be pretty much raped by Father Time when I have to get back on Central Standard Time.

For lunch I had a Sainsbury's brand stuffed crust pizza with double pepperoni. It tasted good but it made me feel gross. And tonight I have to drink again because the Texas kids are leaving. My liver thanks them.

Jesus in heaven, please come down and write this paper for me so I can go back to bed. Also, please bring back the ring I lost during a recon mission in Capture the Flag.* I liked that ring.


*Originally I typed Capture the Flab.

I'm The Only One At Work Today And I'm Not Using My Time Productively

I've got stress and I didn't make it to the step where you accept the things you cannot change. I somehow keep thinking it's a good idea to keep ignoring that distance-learning class I was supposed to have finished MONTHS ago. My grade is going to change to an F and I'm going to lose my special good-student status and I won't be able to get a good job after college and I'll end up living in a box because I can't live in a car because I can't drive. Speaking of which, unless my mom decides to reverse her lifelong policy of being selfish and uncaring I may end up living in a box anyway as I can't make the income requirement on my new apartment and I need someone to sign the form that says that they are financially supporting me. And that's exactly the kind of thing my mom likes to say "no" to--the thing where my whole life hinges on this one act that will have no consequences whatsoever. And then I end up getting shafted in some way or another. Like when I went back to college and after I'd already moved back here but before school started I asked her to co-sign on my student loan and she said "no" for no good reason even though it meant that I didn't have enough funding to pay my bills. And I ended up both signing on to a private loan with an outrageous interest rate and living absolutely hand-to-mouth for months until I found a job. So I'm very, very concerned that is going to be one of those times where she says "no" even though saying "no" basically condemns me to homelessness in Minnesota in winter because I don't have anywhere else to go. Because she doesn't really care one way or the other.

So, I have stress.

All I Need To Know I Learned In University, You Uneducated Twat

I don't want to alarm you or anything, but I've figured out that everyone sucks but us. So, you might want to keep that to yourself, because they wouldn't understand. They can't; they suck.

Last night our theatRE class went to see "Coram Boy" at the National Theatre. Coram Boy is why I go to the theatre even after disasters like "Drunk Enough To Say I Love You." The acting was spot-on, the story was engaging (if a little rushed at points), the characters were emotionally interesting, and the staging was SPECTACULAR. Seriously, at the act break they dug up a bunch of baby skeletons and then executed a guy onstage. Also there's a scene underwater. What's not to love? The show is intense, obviously, and emotional and it was just exactly what I am looking for in the theatre. I don't go to a show to have my beliefs challenged or to be taken outside my "comfort zone"--I like my comfort zone, that's why it's my comfort zone. I just go to be entertained for a couple hours and maybe see or hear something I haven't seen or heard before. Experience over substance, that's my motto.

Tomorrow night Makenzi and I are going to Westminster Abbey to see Handel's Messiah performed in time for Christmas. I haven't been to Westminster Abbey and I love classical music, so I'm pretty damned excited. Plus it's free.

As we speak my room in my new apartment is being painted and carpeted. I'm going to have to figure out how to move my stuff from Saint Paul and I don't have any ideas. I need to stop moving around so much. I probably will with this one, though. Cheap rent and a good location...All it needs is a local grocery store and I'd never leave. Well, as Mick assures us, you can't always get what you want, etc.

I have this problem where I get really excited for change and I stop paying attention to the present. I'm in London for 11 more days and mostly I spend my time planning for when I get back home. Searching for jobs, trying to figure out how to get around that one little (huge) snag in applying for my apartment, trying to figure out how the hell I'm going to get my stuff back to Dinkytown. It occupies both time and attention that if I were smarter or a better person I would be devoting to squeezing the last little bits of enjoyment out of London.

Of course, this would also be easier if I wasn't broker than a church mouse after a fire.

Listened To The Album: Still Unmoved. Please Advise.

I finally spoke with Charlie about the process of moving me into his empty room. Not only does it seem like it will work out, but it seems like a sort of paradise compared to the places I've been living for the past two years or so. He has actual couches. Couches! And clean carpet in my bedroom! And a shower that both stays hot and has actual water pressure! Every time I think about it, I want to cry. Charlie is my knight in shining something.

Not to mention that it's right in Dinkytown. No more almost getting hit by trains at 4 in the morning for me! I'll find some other way to almost get killed, I'm sure. Maybe muggings.

This is my last week of work and I'm kind of sad, but I applied for a new job today and I'd be pretty excited if I got it. It's a job as an Accounting Assistant for the Accounting department at the U. Pretty much it sounds like the only parts of my research job that I didn't hate so much that I felt like I was going to bleed out my ears every time I showed up. (Only towards the end, but it was a passionate feeling.) Sitting around entering documents into CUFS all day? Scanning things and contacting people via email? Yeah, I'm pretty sure I can do that, especially since it pays almost as well as my research job. I felt I was pretty qualified, since I've already completed the CUFS training that would be needed, which saves them time and money.

I have a headache for no real reason. Except that I was banging my head against the mantlepiece in PELA today every time that big-headed kid in the ill-fitting pants started talking. Aggravating. Oh, yes.

Shit, I have to write that PELA paper still.

This Train Is Ready To Depart, Please Mind The Closing Doors

My previous blog stands as a record of nearly every day in one year of my life. I can look back through it and say "This is where I met Robby" and "This is where I was in the hospital the third time" and "This is where I landed my dream job." (It didn't turn out to be, but that's definitely how I felt at the time.) This blog should be a record of my exciting times in London, but I think it just boils down to petty bitching. Maybe when I look back on it in a year I can say "Oh, this is where I blah blah blah" and be more excited. I guess when I was writing the last one I wasn't thinking "I'm sure gonna want to know this in a year!"

Yesterday I finally got out of Ken House for the first time since Thursday. I've discovered (well, I'm continually discovering) that without structure I tend to go crazy, and sometimes that means I don't leave the house for the whole weekend. During the week I'm fine, I'm great, I don't have panic attacks like I used to, but give me a day without deadlines and sometimes I won't get out of bed. I worry about this. But anyway, yesterday I ran out of food and I wanted some exercise, so I decided to skip the Sainsbury's and walk to the Tesco. I'd seen the Tesco in Earl's Court when I caught my bus to Belgium, so I knew the area and the general direction it was in. I walked up to the Earl's Court Tube station (my main reference point, always have a main reference point when you don't know where you're going, that's how you can find your way back) and walked down Earl's Court to the right. I hadn't been down that way in a long time (maybe never, I don't go to Earl's Court much) and I was pleased to discover an Oxfam shop not too far in. They had a coat I wanted but it didn't fit. They had about a million books I wanted also, but that's because I have a Book-Buying Problem. I didn't buy any because I'm living off of my food stipends (£40 a week) and I shouldn't spend my precious food money on books that I'm probably going to leave here in two weeks anyway. So I left the Oxfam shop and continued walking. About 400 miles down the road, I figured out that I guessed wrong about where the Tesco might be. I thought about where I'd been when I saw it and realized with shock and horror that it had to be on Warwick Road, which is on the other side of the Tube station. And I didn't know how to get back to Warwick Road. So I made the only feasible choice: I got lost. I wandered around and around and sang songs under my breath (as usual) and had a nice long think about some things. I don't generally panic when I get lost, because it happens so frequently. Eventually I stumbled onto Earl's Court again, cut through the Tube station (thank God for unlimited Oyster cards) and came out on Warwick Road, where to my utter lack of surprise, the Tesco was about two blocks away. The walk there took me more than an hour, the walk back took about 20 minutes. I'd like to credit my mother for this one; I get my laughably poor sense of direction from her. Once when I was in Girl Scouts we tried to drive up to a camp site together and after several hours we figured out that we had driven entirely off the map. And we had all the food. So when we arrived at the camp site much, much later in the night, I was not the most popular Scout, but I was the most well-fed.

I have Sunset Rubdown's "Jason Believes Me, You Can't Trust Your Dreams" in my head. It's a beautiful song. The part I'm stuck with is

"Hold on,
Ho-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-old on
You say you're gonna die
They say you're gonna come home."

Girl Fights Always End In A Chorus Of "No, I'M Sorry"

According to Yahoo!'s weather service, it's 12 degrees (F) and snowing at home.

I wish I actually lived someplace, instead of just having a series of places to store my stuff.

I wish I didn't keep getting lost in my own neighborhood and testing the limits of exactly how close I can come to getting hit by cars.

There was a secret on Postsecret that I would have written if I was better at mail. I guess that's the point, really.

Please, Spam Me, I'm Really Interested In Your Pyramid Scheme(s)

"Keli, have you started that paper yet?"
"No, I've been listening to Sunset Rubdown and staring at the internet. Oh, also I quit my job and then had a panic attack for about two hours. It's been a while since I was unemployed."

(Not that they were expecting me to come back. I got kind of vocal towards the end there.)

Oh my God, somebody please come write this paper for me?

Given that it's nearly 9 PM, I should go eat dinner soon. Because there will apparently be about 6 people sleeping in my room tonight, so I'm going to bed as late as possible. Because I'm not down with clown, and by the clown, I mean sharing a bedroom. Best metaphor ever.

Honk If You're Jesus

Some people have recurring dreams; I have dreams in a series. As in, they're not the same dream but they're the same thing. I've been having dreams for several years about volcanoes. Sometimes I'm trapped in the smoke and ash, sometimes I see the lava from afar, and sometimes I'm right in there running for my life. Last night I was right in there running for my life. I'm not a believer in Freud and his sex-is-the-core-of-all-life theories, but I'm starting to think I might have some repression issues to work out.

I'm making attempt number 2.0 to start my paper. Because I sat here for a good 12 hours yesterday and I didn't start. I don't really care enough to start writing. I'd rather sit around listening to music (right now it's Scissor Sisters, then on to Sunset Rubdown) and playing some mindless Flash game than sit around thinking about the financial resources of my jobs. I still have to figure out how to write up a portfolio for two jobs that covers the material that everyone else covers for one but in the same amount of space. I asked the instructor and he was like "Ok, write one entry, then write another one for the other job." Thanks, Jonty, that's very helpful and is sure to end with some sort of cohesive paper at the end. I have been seriously stressed about this class for a while but I sat down and had a chat with myself last night that basically consisted of "Grade stress will lead you to suicide. Getting a C in this class is not going to destroy your career." I have to have these chats with myself every semester. Did you ever see The Breakfast Club? I am Anthony Michael Hall.

This little pep-talk was bolstered by the fact that 1) I am getting an A in my art class, and 2) I am getting A+'s from both of my employee reviews, and that's 50% of my grade in PELA, so the other 50% that comes from the portfolio is not going to crush me.

I'd be pretty excited if the computers in here had earphone jacks. I can't conceive of a reason why one would make a computer without an earphone jack. My life would be remarkably different if I could turn the volume on on this thing. For instance, I wouldn't have to wait until the room clears out around 1 AM to put on Last.fm's Neighbor Radio. So Thank You, IBM, for ruining my life aurally.

I Will Not Have Dickens Quoted To Me In My Own Household

t is a particular and grating pet peeve of mine to try to watch something I am interested in in a room with people who are talking amongst themselves. It is an even more particular and enraging pet peeve of mine to try to watch something I am interested in in a room with people who criticize it from beginning to end. If you hate the show so much, why are you still in the room? Go away and let me watch Qi in peace! It's a rare day that I get to watch it, I don't need you next to me grumbling away about how it's not funny. Also your criticism was largely uninformed and frankly it didn't make me think much about your intelligence. You're a nice kid, but seriously, shut the fuck up when I'm watching TV or I'm going to stab you in the neck.

There's a reason why my blogs are all under the name "Shhh...TV."

*****

OK, I was so angry I forgot why I came in. See, I have very little of what passes for "a life"...as evidenced by my passion for Qi. So today instead of writing my paper, I screwed around on the internet and listened to Thom Yorke's solo album (Eraser) for nine hours straight. Nine tracks in a loop. I think I like it even more now than when I started.

I Go Where You Tell Me To On Horseshoes

Apparently one of the downfalls of the electronic age is that even though it seems that you have all the information in the world at your fingertips, when you try to search for something a little offbeat, like, say, a particular passage in the Jewish Publication Society's translation of the Tanakh, when you can't remember the book and you don't want to read the entire Nevi'im to find it, well you're just shit out of luck. Heaven forbid we try to expand our minds or our belief systems using the internet.

The passage is this, my favorite thing to come out of my Biblical prophecy class, which I intended to cite correctly but have been shut down:

"When the sweeping flood passes through
You shall be its victims.
It shall catch you every time it passes through,
It shall pass through every morning
Every day and every night.
And it shall be sheer horror
To grasp the message."

I have been listening to a lot of Thom Yorke lately and it seems prophetic in its own way, which is probably why I woke up thinking about this this morning.

Last night I went to that invitation-only thing at City Hall, a premiere of a documentary about violence against women. It was emotionally devastating, of course. Nearly everyone in the room was crying at some point or another. Then we came out and had free wine and everyone got a little cranked. All in all, a success, I'd say. There was a section of the film about female genital mutilation, and apparently a guy behind me was new to the concept, because every couple of minutes he muttered "Oh my God!" and made a little sobbing sound. Female genital mutilation is in fact horrible and disturbing and I'm always glad when someone else realizes that.

Also, I'm clearly going to have to go see The Vagina Monologues if I expect to maintain my credibility in this business.

I should be writing my PELA paper. I took a bunch of written materials from both of my jobs so that I could get a good start, but I apparently left the assignment guidlines upstairs so I can't start working until I go get them. And I'm not terribly inclined right now. It's due next Monday, which might be far enough in the future that I just can't get excited about it.

I don't want to do today. I need an understudy.