Fucking arboreal rodents ripped a scone-sized hole in our kitchen screen this morning and stole one of my crispety glazed pastries. This now marks the second intra-apartment squirrel incident, one of too many here on Haverford's campus. Those little fuckers, along wtih the multitude of rabbits out back, have no shame, no healthy fear of humans, and apparently nothing better to do than to break into our second story windows. We throw things at them to try and establish the *true* order of the foodchain, but to no avail. We're omnivores, dammit! Doesn't that count for anything anymore? The world has gone mad.
I baked up a storm today, pretending that I don't have work to do, and that my Spanish thesis is going to materialize out of nowhere, that I'll be able to snatch a topic out of the mists of formlessness and indecision. The grand plan is to leave the biscotti for the interview and my caramel-ginger cookies all laid out in a row, with the windows cracked juuuuust enough for the bushy-tailed bastards to smell them, but not get in. When I get back from photo tomorow morning, I want to look up from the path and see a row of buck teeth chattering in drooling mouths, just wishing they could eat my baked goods.
Mmmmwwaaahahahahahahha. [evil laugh]
Maybe I just didn't get enough sleep last night.
If, on a winter's night a traveler outside the town of Malbork, leaning from a steep slope without fear of wind or vertigo, looks down into the gathering shadow...on the carpet of leaves illuminated by the moon around an empty grave, what story there awaits its end? -italo calvino
Monday, September 29, 2003
Sunday, September 28, 2003
Sunday Morning Scones
An astute observer present in the apartment this morning remarked "who the hell just gets up in the morning and says 'I'm going to bake something'?" Well, to that I'd say, um, me.
It was just one of those mornings when I needed to breakfast on something warm and crispy, but soft and steamy inside. The smell of toasting oats early-ish (10:30...not bad) is something that inherently deactivates whatever sort of negativity might surface on Sunday, the consummate "work" day of the college student. Last week at the Italian market, I'd treated myself to last month's issue of Cooks' Illustrated magazine. Their recipe for Toasted Oat Scones looked delectable, so I thought I'd better try it.
Waking up and not having the entire day mapped out in hour or half-hour blocks is liberating, a small pleasure that I realized on Saturday afternoon, when I returned home from my weekly trip to the farmers' market with the best fresh mozzarella that I've had in ages, and a whole monkfish fillet. Warm afternoon sunlight streamed lazily in through the kitchen window on my happily photosynthesizing basil plant, also illuminating the sink full of last week's dirty dishes. As many people know, I've never been one to keep an orderly household; my room tends towards entropy, and endlessly vacillates between various degrees of disorder. Doing the dishes has NEVER been my strong point, although it's one of the things that I've been working to change (over the past several years, hee hee). So I thought to myself, I'm going to clean the kitchen.
It was in need of a serious cleansing. My knives need to be sharpened, which, incidentally is a most diverting activity; how many girls do you know that can properly use a sharpening steel? I put my receipts away, washed all of the dishes, and wiped down the sink before I even started on dinner. It felt so good to have a clean counter to work on, these little activities that I take for granted usually. Hell, I even did the dishes from dinner before we started the movie! I was a maniac.
Lately I haven't even had the time to cook dinner, let alone clean up after it, so the luxury of having free time (even if I did use it to do the dishes) made me happy. That, and opening up the refrigerator to see shelves stacked with green asparagus, papery-thin prosciutto cut by surly deli workers, new cheeses in their butcher paper wrapping, and a chilly bottle of Pellegrino instead of 2 eggs, a stick of margerine, and 3 tortillas (the contents of the fridge on Thursday) had an ameliorating effect on my psyche. Our freezer is still mysteriously dripping water at inopportune times, flooding the bottom of the fridge and ruining its contents, but at least there's stuff in there to get soaked, right? The floor is kind of gross, and there's the mystery stuff from past occupants stuck behind the stove, but I'd say we're doing okay at the moment.
I was tired this weekend, tired of running around purposelessly. If occupying myself with bread crumb-covered plates and lemon dishwashing liquid for an hour is enough to make me feel as though I've actually accomplished something tangible amidst the all too academic existence that I lead during the week, then that counts as a good thing for me. That said, I still hate the dishpan hands.
It was just one of those mornings when I needed to breakfast on something warm and crispy, but soft and steamy inside. The smell of toasting oats early-ish (10:30...not bad) is something that inherently deactivates whatever sort of negativity might surface on Sunday, the consummate "work" day of the college student. Last week at the Italian market, I'd treated myself to last month's issue of Cooks' Illustrated magazine. Their recipe for Toasted Oat Scones looked delectable, so I thought I'd better try it.
Waking up and not having the entire day mapped out in hour or half-hour blocks is liberating, a small pleasure that I realized on Saturday afternoon, when I returned home from my weekly trip to the farmers' market with the best fresh mozzarella that I've had in ages, and a whole monkfish fillet. Warm afternoon sunlight streamed lazily in through the kitchen window on my happily photosynthesizing basil plant, also illuminating the sink full of last week's dirty dishes. As many people know, I've never been one to keep an orderly household; my room tends towards entropy, and endlessly vacillates between various degrees of disorder. Doing the dishes has NEVER been my strong point, although it's one of the things that I've been working to change (over the past several years, hee hee). So I thought to myself, I'm going to clean the kitchen.
It was in need of a serious cleansing. My knives need to be sharpened, which, incidentally is a most diverting activity; how many girls do you know that can properly use a sharpening steel? I put my receipts away, washed all of the dishes, and wiped down the sink before I even started on dinner. It felt so good to have a clean counter to work on, these little activities that I take for granted usually. Hell, I even did the dishes from dinner before we started the movie! I was a maniac.
Lately I haven't even had the time to cook dinner, let alone clean up after it, so the luxury of having free time (even if I did use it to do the dishes) made me happy. That, and opening up the refrigerator to see shelves stacked with green asparagus, papery-thin prosciutto cut by surly deli workers, new cheeses in their butcher paper wrapping, and a chilly bottle of Pellegrino instead of 2 eggs, a stick of margerine, and 3 tortillas (the contents of the fridge on Thursday) had an ameliorating effect on my psyche. Our freezer is still mysteriously dripping water at inopportune times, flooding the bottom of the fridge and ruining its contents, but at least there's stuff in there to get soaked, right? The floor is kind of gross, and there's the mystery stuff from past occupants stuck behind the stove, but I'd say we're doing okay at the moment.
I was tired this weekend, tired of running around purposelessly. If occupying myself with bread crumb-covered plates and lemon dishwashing liquid for an hour is enough to make me feel as though I've actually accomplished something tangible amidst the all too academic existence that I lead during the week, then that counts as a good thing for me. That said, I still hate the dishpan hands.
Saturday, September 27, 2003
Guilty Pleasures
It's been a while since I've posted, mainly due to to me actually having things to *do* at work, and therefore not being left alone to screw around on the internet. I've finally started to get caught up on my work that I blew off to finish the Watson, and now that it's turned in, I'm left with a bit of a loss. Not that I have loads of free time or anything crazy like that, but it's just a very different "no-impending-deadlines-hanging-over-one's-head" feeling.
Also, it means that (yes, I know this leads to trouble) I've had more time to just sit and think about things. It has come to my attention that I do not feel guilty about several things that I thought I might, and the things about which I do feel slightly culpable were unexpected.
Things that are NOT weighing heavily on my mind
1. the fact that I'm not playing soccer anymore (at least not for Haverford). yep, that's right, not missing it a bit. i feel like i should be more overwraught about this.
2. last night, in a fit of girly-ness, Klu and I watched "The Princess Diaries" on dvd. Including all the special features. It's good....I swear!
3. Haverford's social scene blows; I mean is really abysmal, and I just haven't had the energy/time to try and convince people to go off campus with me. At the moment, I'm to worried about reading literary theory to give a shit, but it's going to come back to haunt me later.
3a. caveat: I do feel bad that I haven't yet been to even ONE of the super cool bars in Old City, but it's kind of hard to go bar-hopping alone, and I don't have a 'wingman,' as they say.
So that's about it. Life moves on slowly, and my computer printouts of readings are piling up around my bed, couch, and desk, so I think that it's about time I do something to remedy the veritable forest of looseleaf papers fluttering about. It's finally the weekend, and time to work.
It's been a while since I've posted, mainly due to to me actually having things to *do* at work, and therefore not being left alone to screw around on the internet. I've finally started to get caught up on my work that I blew off to finish the Watson, and now that it's turned in, I'm left with a bit of a loss. Not that I have loads of free time or anything crazy like that, but it's just a very different "no-impending-deadlines-hanging-over-one's-head" feeling.
Also, it means that (yes, I know this leads to trouble) I've had more time to just sit and think about things. It has come to my attention that I do not feel guilty about several things that I thought I might, and the things about which I do feel slightly culpable were unexpected.
Things that are NOT weighing heavily on my mind
1. the fact that I'm not playing soccer anymore (at least not for Haverford). yep, that's right, not missing it a bit. i feel like i should be more overwraught about this.
2. last night, in a fit of girly-ness, Klu and I watched "The Princess Diaries" on dvd. Including all the special features. It's good....I swear!
3. Haverford's social scene blows; I mean is really abysmal, and I just haven't had the energy/time to try and convince people to go off campus with me. At the moment, I'm to worried about reading literary theory to give a shit, but it's going to come back to haunt me later.
3a. caveat: I do feel bad that I haven't yet been to even ONE of the super cool bars in Old City, but it's kind of hard to go bar-hopping alone, and I don't have a 'wingman,' as they say.
So that's about it. Life moves on slowly, and my computer printouts of readings are piling up around my bed, couch, and desk, so I think that it's about time I do something to remedy the veritable forest of looseleaf papers fluttering about. It's finally the weekend, and time to work.
Tuesday, September 23, 2003
Not with a bang, but a whimper
Lots of whining going on lately from apartment 14. The sinus infection continues to kick advil's ass, which makes me sad, but hopefully my T-cells are going to get into gear. I'm loading up on vitamin C in the meantime. The "three day birthday extravaganza" didn't turn out in exactly the way that we expected it, but as far as birthdays go, it was one of the better ones that I've had. And hey--the nice thing about taking it easy on Saturday night was that I was all set to work on the Watson Sunday morning. I *would* have liked to have been hit on for my birthday, but come on now people, this is Haverford.
One last whine, and then I'm done, I swear. The whole two theses thing is pissing me off, but I meekly submit to those wiser than I (aka, Heads of Departments, the college demigods) and shall indeed write both of them. The roommate helped me brainstorm last night, which was invaluable, so hopefully by the time class rolls around tomorrow night, i'll be able to have a coherent idea to present
Now for more uplifting commentary: there were parts of this weekend that were fantastic. Really exemplary.
Part the first: had really great Indian food on Friday night with some of the girls, followed by movie night (Matchstick Men) at the old theater. Sure, I was ready to fall asleep standing up at 9:30, but we had fun.
Secondly: finally made it to the Italian Market, 9th St., South Philly. Splurged on cooking supplies, skipped the first half of the lame ass Study Abroad conference at U-Penn, and hung out with decent Haverfordians. Good times.
Thing Number 3: I played soccer for the first time in about 10 months, on a real grass field, 11 v. 11.
I can't even fully describe how good it felt, along with a few butterflies, to carry my cleats up to Featherbed field, stop by my friends' softball game to cheer them on for a while, and then stroll through the late summer afternoon sun to the soccer pitch.
Laced up the muddied, slightly crusty boots, knotted the laces twice, and shook out my stiff legs a bit while I shot the shit with my new intramural teammates. Then, as the kangaroo leather made contact with that slightly vinyl-coated bubble of air and synthetic fibers, crushing down the soft green grass beneath, everything rollling as one movement, I knew what I missed. Someone asked me if I missed soccer. "Haverford soccer, Not a bit. But this? This I've missed so much." Being out on the field, scraping my knee trying to get a cross off, and having enough adrenaline to want to sprint somewhere, that's euphoric.
Plus, several underclassmen (yes, I do mean underclassmen, as in boys) were sufficiently awestruck by my soccer skills, and the fact that they'd never noticed who the hell I was before. I tend to go unnoticed, so when they're all like "what year are you?!?" It's fun to tell them I'm a senior.
Lastly: I love the Sunday paper. The New York Times in particular, but in general, the concept of taking an hour or two on a Sunay afternoon (say, after a trip to the yuppie grocery store for expensive cheese and a sourdough boule) to just sit and read about what's going on in the world, whilst sipping on freshly brewed coffee. That's a good thing too.
...and before I go, life is a little more settled. Watson got in to Haverford, so that's out of my hands now. I felt a little nauseous turning in the damn thing, since I've been working on it for so long, but I can only hope for the best now. School presses on, and hopefully I'll get my first paycheck soon so that I can go out on the town. Whenever I'm through obsessing about not having theses topics, that is.
One last whine, and then I'm done, I swear. The whole two theses thing is pissing me off, but I meekly submit to those wiser than I (aka, Heads of Departments, the college demigods) and shall indeed write both of them. The roommate helped me brainstorm last night, which was invaluable, so hopefully by the time class rolls around tomorrow night, i'll be able to have a coherent idea to present
Now for more uplifting commentary: there were parts of this weekend that were fantastic. Really exemplary.
Part the first: had really great Indian food on Friday night with some of the girls, followed by movie night (Matchstick Men) at the old theater. Sure, I was ready to fall asleep standing up at 9:30, but we had fun.
Secondly: finally made it to the Italian Market, 9th St., South Philly. Splurged on cooking supplies, skipped the first half of the lame ass Study Abroad conference at U-Penn, and hung out with decent Haverfordians. Good times.
Thing Number 3: I played soccer for the first time in about 10 months, on a real grass field, 11 v. 11.
I can't even fully describe how good it felt, along with a few butterflies, to carry my cleats up to Featherbed field, stop by my friends' softball game to cheer them on for a while, and then stroll through the late summer afternoon sun to the soccer pitch.
Laced up the muddied, slightly crusty boots, knotted the laces twice, and shook out my stiff legs a bit while I shot the shit with my new intramural teammates. Then, as the kangaroo leather made contact with that slightly vinyl-coated bubble of air and synthetic fibers, crushing down the soft green grass beneath, everything rollling as one movement, I knew what I missed. Someone asked me if I missed soccer. "Haverford soccer, Not a bit. But this? This I've missed so much." Being out on the field, scraping my knee trying to get a cross off, and having enough adrenaline to want to sprint somewhere, that's euphoric.
Plus, several underclassmen (yes, I do mean underclassmen, as in boys) were sufficiently awestruck by my soccer skills, and the fact that they'd never noticed who the hell I was before. I tend to go unnoticed, so when they're all like "what year are you?!?" It's fun to tell them I'm a senior.
Lastly: I love the Sunday paper. The New York Times in particular, but in general, the concept of taking an hour or two on a Sunay afternoon (say, after a trip to the yuppie grocery store for expensive cheese and a sourdough boule) to just sit and read about what's going on in the world, whilst sipping on freshly brewed coffee. That's a good thing too.
...and before I go, life is a little more settled. Watson got in to Haverford, so that's out of my hands now. I felt a little nauseous turning in the damn thing, since I've been working on it for so long, but I can only hope for the best now. School presses on, and hopefully I'll get my first paycheck soon so that I can go out on the town. Whenever I'm through obsessing about not having theses topics, that is.
Thursday, September 18, 2003
Isabel is a Bitch
So apparently MSNBC is on "the Strip" reporting live through the hurricane, Waterside is under water, and I wouldn't doubt that Norfolk is a veritable miasma. Talked to the padres last night, and my dad bought a brand new flashlight/lantern/am-fm radio thingie in preparation. Personally, I think that hurricane season is just an excuse to buy gadgets and have a run on bottled water in the grocery store. Except this year, for the first time in about a decade (at least as long as I've been living in Va Beach), it's for real.
It's odd to see the big hurricane force wind swaths cover Cape Henry and the Tidewater area on the NOAA website (and very very cool, in my opinion, although I have been informed ["Nerd alert! Nerd alert!" according to Mandi] that it is quite dorky to harbor such sentiments), and to hear my dad tell me that he and our neighbors had parked all the cars in the middle of the cul-de-sac yesterday so that they wouldn't get blown over by trees.
Personally, I don't mind all that much having Isabel steal the thunder (ha, unintentional meteorological puns!) from my big b-day; the photo critique didn't go all so horribly, and while having the tutorial group read Borges on a Thursday afternoon looked to be more painful than drawing blood, it's been a relatively calm, uneventful day. This makes me happy, because the people that I care about sent greetings my way, and a few of them pleasantly surprising to boot. My ever-industrious and solicitous roommate has been an ass-kicking party planner this week, and despite her hesitancy to immerse herself in the Haver-social world again, is (i dare say) enjoying it.
My parents even found time amidst disaster planning to send out a package to me containing several amusing gifts, all of which remind me why I love my weird, random family. One of said objects is a ceramic cat that is hollow, with a hole in its head, and magnet affixed to the back. Said chotchke of ambiguous functionality made me laugh, because it exemplifies every care package I've ever got from my well-meaning mother. Kaitlyn, in a fit of genius, discovered by reading the bottom that its ostensible purpose is that of a "flower holder." I swear, I NEVER would have figured that out.
The other gift in the box, this one from my dad, is a bottle opener. Now, this wouldn't ordinarily be so funny, but my sister and I have for literally years mocked my father for the non-functionality of said corkscrew, which he keeps around solely based on the fact that he bought it in France in the 1960's during his tour of duty in Europe. When I opened the Fed-Ex box, I busted out laughing and might have actually said out loud "that bastard." Fortunately, after conversing telephonically with male parental unit, he informed me that not only is the gaudily bright blue and purple metal object designed slighty differently than the one that we have at home, but engraved on the side (as I noted earlier) is "made in Italy," which is cute, because Dad knows how I have an irrational fondness for imported culinary products. I'll probably refuse to throw it out when my (hypothetical) children mock me for its outdatedness.
I [heart] my family.
It's odd to see the big hurricane force wind swaths cover Cape Henry and the Tidewater area on the NOAA website (and very very cool, in my opinion, although I have been informed ["Nerd alert! Nerd alert!" according to Mandi] that it is quite dorky to harbor such sentiments), and to hear my dad tell me that he and our neighbors had parked all the cars in the middle of the cul-de-sac yesterday so that they wouldn't get blown over by trees.
Personally, I don't mind all that much having Isabel steal the thunder (ha, unintentional meteorological puns!) from my big b-day; the photo critique didn't go all so horribly, and while having the tutorial group read Borges on a Thursday afternoon looked to be more painful than drawing blood, it's been a relatively calm, uneventful day. This makes me happy, because the people that I care about sent greetings my way, and a few of them pleasantly surprising to boot. My ever-industrious and solicitous roommate has been an ass-kicking party planner this week, and despite her hesitancy to immerse herself in the Haver-social world again, is (i dare say) enjoying it.
My parents even found time amidst disaster planning to send out a package to me containing several amusing gifts, all of which remind me why I love my weird, random family. One of said objects is a ceramic cat that is hollow, with a hole in its head, and magnet affixed to the back. Said chotchke of ambiguous functionality made me laugh, because it exemplifies every care package I've ever got from my well-meaning mother. Kaitlyn, in a fit of genius, discovered by reading the bottom that its ostensible purpose is that of a "flower holder." I swear, I NEVER would have figured that out.
The other gift in the box, this one from my dad, is a bottle opener. Now, this wouldn't ordinarily be so funny, but my sister and I have for literally years mocked my father for the non-functionality of said corkscrew, which he keeps around solely based on the fact that he bought it in France in the 1960's during his tour of duty in Europe. When I opened the Fed-Ex box, I busted out laughing and might have actually said out loud "that bastard." Fortunately, after conversing telephonically with male parental unit, he informed me that not only is the gaudily bright blue and purple metal object designed slighty differently than the one that we have at home, but engraved on the side (as I noted earlier) is "made in Italy," which is cute, because Dad knows how I have an irrational fondness for imported culinary products. I'll probably refuse to throw it out when my (hypothetical) children mock me for its outdatedness.
I [heart] my family.
El Cumple
Well, I've decided that it's true; the world is indeed conspiring against me. The brainless non-functional idiots in my photo class were clogging up the darkroom for 6 hours this evening, so immediately AFTER I was informed that I will be writing not one, but TWO (yes, that's 2, dos, due, two) theses this year by my CompLit advisor, I had to wait another 3 before I could finish my prints that are due in, oh, 7 hours. Let's just say that there was a brief period of freak out-age.
Now that I've gotten that out of the way, it's finally Thursday, and I'm no longer 'not yet one and twenty.' Had a chat with my dad tonight just to make sure that they don't get blown to bits by Isabel, but you know how these things go; it's probaly going to head back out to sea and not bother anyone. I also, after spending a good 2.5 hours inhaling D-76 developer (most likely happily feeding the strep-throat bacteria I'm currently cultivating around my tonsils), received several *unexpected* happy birthday IM's, which was pleasant. I was hoping that someone would send me some sort of electronic shout-out to counter my current irritation with anything resembling academic life, and hearing from one person in particular turned the corners of mouth slightly upward. It's nice when old friends remember that sort of crap sometimes.
So it's now 1:11 am, on September 18th, and it's way past my bedtime from September 17th. I choose not to think about all the shit that I've got to do this weekend, not to worry about the dreaded fellowship committee, and how my thesis advisor thinks I'm an incompetent idiot. None of it can be that important, right?
Well, I've decided that it's true; the world is indeed conspiring against me. The brainless non-functional idiots in my photo class were clogging up the darkroom for 6 hours this evening, so immediately AFTER I was informed that I will be writing not one, but TWO (yes, that's 2, dos, due, two) theses this year by my CompLit advisor, I had to wait another 3 before I could finish my prints that are due in, oh, 7 hours. Let's just say that there was a brief period of freak out-age.
Now that I've gotten that out of the way, it's finally Thursday, and I'm no longer 'not yet one and twenty.' Had a chat with my dad tonight just to make sure that they don't get blown to bits by Isabel, but you know how these things go; it's probaly going to head back out to sea and not bother anyone. I also, after spending a good 2.5 hours inhaling D-76 developer (most likely happily feeding the strep-throat bacteria I'm currently cultivating around my tonsils), received several *unexpected* happy birthday IM's, which was pleasant. I was hoping that someone would send me some sort of electronic shout-out to counter my current irritation with anything resembling academic life, and hearing from one person in particular turned the corners of mouth slightly upward. It's nice when old friends remember that sort of crap sometimes.
So it's now 1:11 am, on September 18th, and it's way past my bedtime from September 17th. I choose not to think about all the shit that I've got to do this weekend, not to worry about the dreaded fellowship committee, and how my thesis advisor thinks I'm an incompetent idiot. None of it can be that important, right?
Tuesday, September 16, 2003
Dates and Deadlines
Yay for posting at work, eh?
It's a beautiful day today, finally. Rain and more rain in store for the East Coast; I went to the NOAA website to check up on Isabella, and yesterday it was headed straight for Va Beach. Luckily it's starting to turn a little south, so Tidewater might miss out on the brunt of the storm. I wish I were at home for hurricane season...it's always interesting.
In the meantime, life goes on here, rather quickly. A little too quickly as far as I'm concerned, because all sorts of important dates are getting nearer. My lovely roommate and assorted friends are organizing a 3 day long 'Thea turns 21 extravaganza' starting on the 18th, which confounds me a little. No shit, I really didn't realize that I had that many acquaintances and random friends at Haverford; it's nice to be reminded that there are some people out in the world who care about your presence. I forget that at times, especially during the dehumanizing process of fellowship application and all that bullshit. Taking into account my 3-4 year string of shitty birthdays (me always ending up in pajamas and tears by about 8:00 or 9:00 pm for one silly reason or another), I don't want to get my hopes up with expectations of good times, but I can't help but be a little bit excited about it. If I get my photo assignment done, the Watson polished, and my work for next week started [aka perform the impossible task of staying dilligent] it should be a kick ass weekend (as those kids are known to say).
Haven't had any graded work yet, so of course academically speaking I'm in a good mood, and my internship in Philly starts up again after a 9 month hiatus. It will be fun to be back in Old City on Friday afternoons; gives me a bit of stability, even if it does take a huge chunk of time out of my schedule.
Well, I probably shouldn't be wasting any more time writing here, when there's so much more writing to be done for other things...back to the grind =)
It's a beautiful day today, finally. Rain and more rain in store for the East Coast; I went to the NOAA website to check up on Isabella, and yesterday it was headed straight for Va Beach. Luckily it's starting to turn a little south, so Tidewater might miss out on the brunt of the storm. I wish I were at home for hurricane season...it's always interesting.
In the meantime, life goes on here, rather quickly. A little too quickly as far as I'm concerned, because all sorts of important dates are getting nearer. My lovely roommate and assorted friends are organizing a 3 day long 'Thea turns 21 extravaganza' starting on the 18th, which confounds me a little. No shit, I really didn't realize that I had that many acquaintances and random friends at Haverford; it's nice to be reminded that there are some people out in the world who care about your presence. I forget that at times, especially during the dehumanizing process of fellowship application and all that bullshit. Taking into account my 3-4 year string of shitty birthdays (me always ending up in pajamas and tears by about 8:00 or 9:00 pm for one silly reason or another), I don't want to get my hopes up with expectations of good times, but I can't help but be a little bit excited about it. If I get my photo assignment done, the Watson polished, and my work for next week started [aka perform the impossible task of staying dilligent] it should be a kick ass weekend (as those kids are known to say).
Haven't had any graded work yet, so of course academically speaking I'm in a good mood, and my internship in Philly starts up again after a 9 month hiatus. It will be fun to be back in Old City on Friday afternoons; gives me a bit of stability, even if it does take a huge chunk of time out of my schedule.
Well, I probably shouldn't be wasting any more time writing here, when there's so much more writing to be done for other things...back to the grind =)
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