Most garishly illustrated by my current attire: red sweatpants and a pastel mint EHOS t-shirt, the sorts of contradictions that I generally try to avoid. An old teacher of mine once told me that, and I took it as a compliment. I still do, although it often confounds people who don't know me very well.
Random Aside: Nutella was on sale 2 for 1 at Genuardi's today...imagine, if you will, the strength of will necessary for me not to buy more to add to the collection. Oh, you will.
Anyway, the same teacher who found my charming personality an oxymoron has been instrumental (I believe) in facilitating the phonecall I just received today from the HR guy at Cape Henry, telling be obliquely that they want me to teach there next year. In light of the veritable SCANDAL of resignations that have happened in the past week, I'm highly dubious that I'd want to be teaching there next year, but the possibility of saving an assload of money by living at home is quite encouraging. I might even be able to fund my own jaunt to Barcelona next summer instead of asking for it for graduation. That's hot.
I'm feeling very conflicted towards the Cape as of late, and not sure what to do about that, if anything.
But enough of that. Today has been a day which showcased my rather ecclectic (to use the dreaded buzzword) personality:
1. after work I picked up a gi-normous package from 95 Howe Street, thouroughly perplexed at what my crazy sister sent me. I love my crazy sister. The contents of said container were a thesis survival kit assembled of different random objects, all of which pertained in some way to me. The box included, and this is by no means an all inclusive list
-a clove of garlic
-the newest issue of Cosmo
-the nasty eyeshadow that we both got in our stocking at Christmas
-a magic 8 ball ("whose use increases dramatically with the addition of alcohol")
-peppermint patties
-a grocery shopping list
-pictures of exotic...greens i.e. kale, napa cabbage
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, my sister has put me in a box.
2. As I left the grocery store (without the Nutella, sadly enough), I felt a little surge of pride for my little Fiametta, as I have dubbed the van, passing by one of her flakier, rustier siblings. It happens every time I see one of the 1989-1995 Dodge Caravans with defective primer. I *can* be an artsy person sometimes, although it's often half-assed.
3. When I got home, I finished writing a paper about communist montage cinema, read the first three chapters of the ridiculously formulaic Norah Roberts romance novel that I got Alex for Christmas, which she thoughfully re-gifted to me today (as I hoped she would eventually, hee hee), ate some sushi for dinner after a quick workout, and then plan on writing a paper on Freud and Frankenstein.
Sometimes I really love my life =). Now if only that translated into a *job* for next year...