Bloglet, the gentleman's mock turtle soup -- Moss made it sweeter than myrrh ash and dhoup
This physics teacher dude is seriously something else. There must be about a hundred students in the class, but he made every one of us send him an email with our thoughts and questions, not to mention a page-long survey of our academic history. About an hour after I sent mine off (I just had a couple sentences about how I flunked physics in High School but intend to straighten up and work hard this time around), I get this:
"You're much older, so many pitfalls into which the young stumble are now, I hope, unthinkable! Post bacs almost always do very well . . . there is now some purpose in studying . . . to learn! (It's too bad our culture stresses everything BUT knowledge!) It also appears that you went to St. John's or something similar. Physics certainly asks some of the most persistent questions in the history of Homo sapiens, so that should appeal to you. Unfortunately, it DOES take a great deal of patience before one can start to consider scientifically meaningful answers! This course will help in that."
Damn damn damn! I'd have to be a total ungrateful schlub if I didn't pay attention and give myself over, no grousing or twiddling. This guy is for real.
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(1)
02:49:31 PM,Tuesday 3 September 2002
I decided to put my free time where my mouth is and checked out The Sorrows of Young Werther from the library. So far it's charming, if (as I expected) a little effusive. The funniest part up to where I've read, though, is when Werther and Lotte (his unrequited squeeze) are looking out the window at a thunderstorm... their hearts are pounding, they're flushed and rapturous, "her eyes fill with tears; she laid her hand on mine and said," (wait for it...) "'Klopstock!'" {starts snerfling} Ok, making liberal allowances for the inherent dorkiness of the German language, I mean... Klopstock?! Apparently the guy wrote an ode about a thunderstorm, so it wasn't as nonsensical as it might seem but, honestly, two less romantic syllables I find it very hard to conjure. Even if you didn't get a Klopstockian Nose-Fly as a present from your brother when you were a little kid. Heh heh.
Anyway, it's in the happy I'm-in-love-la-la-la stage right now, so it's pretty tolerable. I'm dreading the angstlich (points, Moss?) bits that are right around the corner though. Glurgh.
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11:18:59 AM,Tuesday 3 September 2002
I had a delightfully incriminating time last night. And that is all I am going to say about that.
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(5)
11:23:55 PM,Monday 2 September 2002
I miss talking with y'all on AIM. I miss Johnnychats. {sigh} Maybe after I've weaned myself away from this bastard thing and can be trusted not to spend 12 hours on it at a stretch every time I get the chance, I'll be able to get back online without the guilt pangs. Then I'll talk to y'all again and life will be better. Did you read that thing on Hard's blog's comments about Fairy Food, though? I wonder. It's true, in a way, but that doesn't mean it's not better than nothing. I've got a new address. It's:
I've got a new phone number too, but I can't remember it. I'll post it when I've got it handy. I think they should bring back telephone numbers with exchange names. Numbers are impossible to memorize, and words are so much easier. Why is that? Is it because words automatically call several associations to mind, while numbers are more... colorless? But some people can remember numbers very easily. How do they do it?
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(2)
05:23:42 AM,Sunday 1 September 2002
The snozzberries taste like snozzberries!
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04:48:07 AM,Sunday 1 September 2002
T.I.A.I.L.W:Camilla, the buffly badass from The Aeneid. Rawr!
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(3)
03:29:43 AM,Sunday 1 September 2002
How do I ask my barber for a haircut that's neither spikey nor poufy but partable/slick-backable, neat, and fit for a good old-fashioned (lover) boy? Is "short back and sides sufficient"? So far I've never been able to get one exactly right, but maybe that's 'cause my head is too corkscrewy.
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(1)
12:27:39 AM,Saturday 31 August 2002
The WBJC DJ-Man is such a damn, damn lovely fellow. He's sweet and courteous even when people call in to request revolting stuff like Bolero, which I, personally, would have responded to with a volley of hysterical screams. In fact, I did respond to it with a volley of hysterical screams. But not on the air. Which is why I'm not the DJ. But I asked him for Tatiana Troyanos's Parto, Parto, and, while he didn't have it, he had Dame Janet's, (awww!) which is damn well nearly as good, and he talked very prettily about it with me and he even mentioned the clarinetist's name when it was over. Now that's class, yo.
I went out shopping for food and other domestic goods with my roommate today. She is indeed, as I've thought from the first, a cool and interesting chica. She reads books like "The 7 Habits Of Highly Effective" etc., but today I went looking for something light to read in my spare time and wound up buying a book on grammar, so I don't really have the right to look down my nose. We might have a third roommate named Rose from Kenya, but we haven't met her yet, so who knows.
I've been spending gobwads of money on books and things and then ripping all the paper and plastic and boxes open with fanatical glee as soon as I get them home. Obviously part of the reason for so much superfluous packaging in nearly everything you can buy is because it's so pleasant to take it apart, but do you think it's rooted in some ancient Simian past? Like, I enjoy peeling the cellophane off CDs so much because it reminds me dimly of when I was sitting in the forest stripping the husks off roots and grasses, about to receive the primal gift of bellytimber? Hum.
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(3)
10:41:10 PM,Friday 30 August 2002
See, I've got two opposing forces working at me, one worse than the other. All this summer, I trained myself to go directly back to my room right after class, because the internet was there. I justified it by saying to myself that I would study, free from the distractions of the World, but, no, I was just a junkie. Now, strangely enough, I've still got that retreat-and-burrow impulse (habituation's a funny thing; I'm not normally a shrinking violet), and the internet mindsuck is as strong as ever, but now they're at odds with each other. For the first time since middle school, I don't have an internet connection in my room. I could find the dial-up number or get the maintenance men to fix the ethernet connection in the kitchen and then snake a cable in, but so far I've resisted the urge. The last two nights I put my room in order, listened to music, studied (I've got this new scheme, see... I read my textbook into this tape recorder and then I play it back while I'm going to sleep. Subliminalicious.), read some Clerihews, even ironed my shirts and did some pushups.
I'd almost forgotten the sensation of being alone in my own room. I didn't have a 'net connection in Bigfork, but I always had at least one roommate. When I was a kid, I used to stay in my room for great long stretches of time, reading, making up games, putting on plays for myself... but I hadn't done anything like that for the longest time. Because whenever I'm near a computer connected to the 'net, I sink my entire mind into it until all the time is gone and I've got to leave or sleep. I've been on this computer in the library for ten and a half hours. I haven't eaten anything today. It's not catastrophic, because I don't have any homework tomorrow, but plainly if I keep up like this I'll end up the way I did at St. John's: fine in class when it comes to spot translations or off-the-cuff talk, or anything that depends on what can be read in the bathtub, but wasted and quiet when it gets technical, because I haven't done the problems or worked through the diagrams.
Thing is, it didn't matter so much at St. John's; you can talk your way through most classes if you know when to speak and when to shut up and look thoughtful. It would have been better for me if I had worked harder, but my grades didn't suffer so much. Here, I'll just flunk. It doesn't matter how much attention I pay in class; I've got to memorize things and polish my algebra and all sorts of damn time-consuming things that can't be grabbed easily out of the air. I've never done it before. I'll never do it if I don't stop wasting all my time on the web. My only chance is to stay in that little boxy room and try to remember what it was like to be a little kid without a computer.
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(5)
07:43:57 PM,Thursday 29 August 2002
I want an original Clerihew. Please.
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(15)
03:42:55 PM,Thursday 29 August 2002
Wanted he to stab me, he was looking like a food-pad?
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01:18:28 PM,Thursday 29 August 2002
T.I.A.I.L.W.: Hermione Granger. (I'm not a sicko! She's a year older than me!) Because I need to freaking study!!!
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(3)
11:35:29 AM,Thursday 29 August 2002
I get to play bass crumhorn, and alto shawm! Whee!
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(2)
11:29:15 AM,Thursday 29 August 2002
T.I.A.I.L.W.: Aline Nistad.
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07:52:37 PM,Wednesday 28 August 2002
So-So Omen: There's a yellowjacket on my backpack, trying to eat my "Show Tunes Made Me Gay" button. On the one hand, I like yellowjackets, 'cause they're pretty. On the other hand, I can't open my backpack now 'cause I'm afraid it'll wake him from his reverie and start him off a-killin' everyone in the library. What should I do?
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(4)
01:16:32 PM,Wednesday 28 August 2002
So there's this guy, right? And he wrote books about G. K. Chesterton and Gilbert and Sullivan and some famous Church guy, and maybe some poems too, which is all pretty cool, y'know? But... but! His name. Is: Michael Ffinch. I want to find his last remaining descendents and marry into their family so bad.
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(6)
01:14:03 PM,Wednesday 28 August 2002
Good Omen: it's raining outside, and it's warm. One of those lovely Maryland phenomena.
Bad Omen: I lost my lab goggles somehow. But I bought new ones for $5. They're knobbly and green and they make me look like a hobgoblin.
So-So Omen: I've had the hiccups twice today already.
Good Omen: my physics professor, Dr. Chen, is this hyper-organized hardcore guy. He's all about honor and diligence and he thinks physics is subversive because it makes you think when, before, you only assumed. I used to resent teachers that gave me lots of drudge work, because I'd never do it and I'd get a worse grade than I would have if it hadn't been assigned. But things are not as they once were. I've got that down solid. Gulp. From now on, I'm grateful for anything they give me, 'cause it's something to catch on to in the middle of all this whirlygigging.
Bad Omen: for the first time in my life, I won't be able to carry all my books around in my backpack wherever I go. They're too heavy and huge. This makes me sad, but it's probably for the best.
Good Omen: my organic chemistry professor, Dr. Wingrove, is this beautiful old hippie dude who wears tie-dyed grateful dead shirts, tie-dyed shorts, black socks, and birkenstocks every day. He's got gentle eyes and he loves the subject. It's not going to be a cutthroat class; just a rich, compacted, intense one. But there's no lab 'til next week, so I'm free 'til five, skipperdee.
Bad Omen: there are too many freakin' people swarming around. I mean, admittedly most of them look good-natured and some of them are positively, er, riveting, but damnit... I'd been used to having the whole place to myself, excepting the odd Drum Major or Hasid here and there. Aw, I really do like it. It's exciting, all these people who I've never seen. I've met a few already who seem to be excellent sorts. But it's strange. So this one isn't really a bad omen. Just a startling one.
Good Omen: my roommate is hardcore smart and very nice. She's a Junior, majoring in (glurk!) International Business, a debating champion on full scholarship, and a generally cool and cheerful chick. We're probably gonna get a third roommate, too, so the rent'll go down, which suits me. I like my new room. It's got walls that jut out peculiarly, and that nearly makes up for the white walls and beige carpet. I've got plenty of things to put all over the walls anyhow. Everything is low to the floor and comfortable -- I got a wonderful night's sleep just on a sheet over the carpet with dyne and pillow -- and my new alarm clock is several factors of ten less annoying than the old one though, to my relief, it still woke me up no problem.
I don't know how much this-all makes for fascinating bloggage, but I've been confused lately about that anyway; see, personally, I've always liked the intimate snooping details. I dig reading the intimate second-to-second blogs. I know that ain't true for a lot of people, though; they think it's tedious. It's weird that I feel some vague obligation to the blogmass to keep whatever I write interesting... on my old bloglet, which nobody ever read, I just put cryptic sentences down and when I re-read it, I get tiny little flashes of pleasure as they remind me of one memory or another, but I realize that it was a useless and silly thing for anyone who wasn't in my head. But this blog, since it's read by so many people, erp... obviously anyone can skip it whenever it gets dull, and I sure wouldn't take it personally, but if the whole thing, day after day, is nothing but dull stuff that nobody but me wants to read, I mean... that's a disgrace to the noble mettle of the SJC blogmass, innit? Trouble is, I can't tell, always, what's dull and what's not, and I don't want to pander to some imaginary adoring public either, 'cause that would make for a godawful blog, I know. Huh. What do y'all think?
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(12)
12:25:18 PM,Wednesday 28 August 2002
Good Omen: when I left, the radio had just finished playing a suite from Der Rosenkavalier. Yay!
Bad Omen: my pants came out of the wash with 'orrible white schmutz ground into 'em. Ew. Speaking of schmutz, I can't stand not knowing Yiddish anymore. I was listening to this tape of Jewish Jokes, and the guy would tell them first in Yiddish and then with an English translation after every line of the set-up, but when he got to the punchline, arrrgh, it was always something ineffable and untranslatable and he'd just say it in Yiddish and leave me in agony. Arrgh!
So-So Omen: before I went to sleep last night, I had all these cartoons playing in my mind's eye, and I wasn't controlling them at all. They were just little snippets in the style of the Doctor Snuggles or Blackstar or something like that, but they didn't have any sense to them. One image followed after another, and I didn't seem to have any conscious control over it. They were right in the center of my field of vision when my eyes were closed (they disappeared when I opened them), but I had to... metaphorically, like, squint... to see them. Like I didn't have my glasses on, so the picture was too small and far away to be seen clearly, even though the outlines were sharp enough. I've had geometrical shapes dance in front of my eyes before, but never full-color animations. It was kind of cool.
I've got three classes today -- Physics from 9:00 to 10:00, Organic Chemistry from 11:00 to 4:00, and Early Music Ensemble from 5:00 to 6:00 -- and I'm a little dopey and hazy, but all in all... not bad.
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(3)
08:39:26 AM,Wednesday 28 August 2002
Halloo! I'm in the lobby of the Burkshire using their complimentary internet thingie. Never before have I been relieved after getting to the end of BLT. Good work, little bloglings. (`8
I really should go upstairs and eat something and shower and arrange objects in ornamental patterns and stuff, and I will, but... floog-monkeys, it was good to take in the blogmass in one gullet-searing gulp.
I met a very hoopy guy named Chris on the bus. He goes to Shimer College, which I'd never heard of. For shame. It sounds like a good thing to keep in mind for people who would make glorious Johnnies but, for whatever reason, can't or won't go to SJC and don't dig the religious alternatives neither.
I also met a Turkish graduate student in political science at Johns Hopkins on the bus. Nice fellow.
Oh, and I won credits from Nerve by writing a winning haiku! Don't bother going to look. It's just the same thing I've been whinging about on my blog 'til you're all heartily sick of it all. But hey, free credits. Whee!
My roommate is (I think) named Baya (the Tamara girl flaked out, apparently), and she's from Mongolia. Slicka-woo.
Um. I am most content.
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(8)
09:19:52 PM,Tuesday 27 August 2002
I ate lamb chops and bought school supplies. Tremendously satisfying, the both of 'em. Yes yes.
I also saw Henry IV part 1 last week, and it was very nice except the Welsh guy was so not Welsh it hurt. But other than that it was a marvelous thing, considering it was Montana and it was Free and I was full of Potato Salad.
And I went to the wedding of my mom's friend's son. The theme, according to one of the ten boys-from-West-Hollywood put in charge, was "Nouveau-Moderne Moroccan Cowboy". Um. But it meant fluffy pillows and kickass party favors and the best cous-cous I've ever eaten, so I ain't complaining nohow.
And I finally got my flask engraved, and I gave my brother Six String Samurai for his birthday. We watched it last night. He's into post-apocalyptic wastelands and surf music, so I think he dug it.
All this itineratin'... fooey. The trouble is, I don't know if anything deep or complex or colorful has really been running through my mind all summer. I've just been taking things in on a light and airy level for a while, which isn't so terrible, but I don't wanna keep like this forever. I've decided to regiment my life out to the hour; the endless stretch of open time method didn't seem to work too well, so we'll see if this works, or if I can even stick to it. I still don't know if I'll have internet in my room. I'm sort of desperately hoping I won't, 'cause I don't think I'll have the willpower to resist it if I do... guh. I dunno. Neti netiti.
Now I'm ripping CDs and fiddling with my school supplies. I sure got no complaints.
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(6)
12:39:24 AM,Friday 23 August 2002
