Sunday, October 31, 2004

Blue Funk Week

It’s blue funk week. The week after a break is always rough. Having a paper due three days after a visit home isn't very helpful either. Don't professors understand that we are just coming back from seeing our friends and family for the first time? Can't they understand that longing and lament are the most common emotions after freshman realize the life they are missing out on, having left home and high school behind (hopefully)?

Oh well. Hell week is over. I can once again look forward to going home this weekend. Yay snowboarding!!!! It will be fun and exciting. And then I will be sad. And I will have the second draft of yet-another-paper-from-hell due. What a recipe for disaster!!

Some advice that my well-informed muse passed my way: If it’s blue funk week for you- get your biggest project out of the way. Exercise- sneak into the workout room after everyone has left to go party for the night. Or walk 20 minutes to get to your car, and then go on a nice, long relaxing drive in the country at high speeds, watching out for cows, sheeps, and farm equipment ~preferably with a radio that works.

Pray for me next week! That I survive yet another Blue Funk Hell Week, yes. But more so that I don't break something or fall off a lift this weekend at Copper Mountain Resort, in the good ole Rocky Mountains!



Saturday, October 30, 2004

NaNoWriMo

Yes everyone, it is National Novel Writing Month! Moreover, I will NOT be participating! I've got enough on my plate with school, trying to find a job {i.e. being persistent enough that the manager of the local Noodles and Company will finally hire me} work study, finding time to shower when no one else is in the bathroom, and avoiding everyone and their Grandma when I am about to drive my car off campus and over to that town which is shopping paradise for those poor deprived college girls in my section. They literally JUMP at the idea that the mysterious and distant doors of Wal-Mart, Target, Sam's Club, and the River Hills Mall (a seedy, silly excuse for a mall if you ask me) will be open to them for a limited time only - {about as long as I can baby-sit the shopping cart without losing my sanity.} I swear, if I ever have to spend 35 minutes in the makeup section at Target, I'm going to drive my tank of a 1981 Volvo through the dorm, and then NO one will be able to put on makeup or take a shower in the privacy of out modular bathrooms!

Therefore, this month, like every other month in my mundane little world will be Snail mail, Email, Essay, blog, and unread rant -writing month for me. Wish me luck!
Friday, October 29, 2004

Where is the fountain of youth?

A college student is known for three things: Drinking, pulling all-nighters, and having a crappy car.

I have a crappy car... My dad doesn't want me to bring the nice ones here, so I have the rusty one, which, I am sure will only rust more before I am done with Minnesota winters.

I don't drink. Somehow, the idea of becoming stupid for fun is... well... stupid. Granted, drunk people are fun to watch, which is why Friday night is the best night to people watch, cuz all the drunks are out, but I don't want them puking on my futon, thank you very much!

I am too old to pull all-nighters. I used to do them in high school. Then my math teacher yelled at me for falling asleep standing up in the back of class. {If we fell asleep at our desks, we had to stand up, the theory being you can't fall asleep as easily on your feet.} And still I pulled all-nighters anyways. But, like I said, I am too old. I am barely cognizant at 8 am anyways, and after staying awake all night, there is no hope. None at all.

Having said this, my paper is now turned in, and it is time for a nap. I must awake in an hour to take a field trip to the local trailer parks. 24k a year to paint pumpkins and tour trailer parks? Education isn't really what it seems!

My Pumpkin

This is my pumpkin. His name is David. {Yes, I have a penchant for naming things! I even got my roommate to name her computer!} I made him. ---Well, not really. Someone else planted him, and raised him, and harvested him, and sold him, and bought him. I just painted him. T'was an odd experience... However, living with 22 girls is an odd experience. Today, as I walked into the shower, I was confronted with a piece of underclothing that some lackadaisical young lady had left hanging from the hooks. What an unpleasant experience! At first, I thought, "Why even bother wearing anything?" Then I saw the cute little ladybug pattern, and I immediately thought of the infestation of biting ladybugs we had earlier this year. It is because of this that I am determined that girls are a little on the far side of cuckoo! ~~~Then there was the sign that miraculously appeared above the mirrors in both bathrooms over reading break... "Blow-drying your hair is NOT a quiet hours activity." Personally, I think that hairdryers are a nuisance and should be banned entirely. However, since all girls are dependant on hairdryers {something about not enjoying having their hair become icicles that tinkle merrily as they walk to class} it is unfortunate that quiet hours end at 7 am, instead of, say... 11am! Oh yeah, I was talking about my pumpkin! So, as a group-building and recreational activity, our section painted pumpkins... I'd never painted a pumpkin before. We always carve them at home. But I painted this one, albeit not very artistically, and glued feathers to his head. No, he does not have pigtails. It’s either male pattern balding gone wild, or he’s very scared being around all these girls. {Who wouldn’t be?}

Happy Halloween!



David, the Halloween pumkin, who is NOT wearing pigtails! Posted by Hello
Wednesday, October 20, 2004

Gee Brain, whaddaya want to do tonight?

Same thing we do every night, Pinky: Try to take over the world.

Speaking of taking over the world... Has anyone ever called Microsoft the "Evil Empire?"

I do. All the time. You bet I do!

I run Firefox and Navigator. Every day, I encounter yet another website that is only compatible with Internet Explorer. Most audio files online open through Windows Media Player, and many online games are only compatible with Internet Explorer.

This means I cannot play my favorite game: Zuma. It is most addicting! I can't buy books online, or even register for classes, since my school prefers Internet Explorer. I can't view the PowerPoint slides my professor has posted on his online syllabus. And I NEVER, EVER get pop up ads. What a price to pay. To me, it doesn't seem fair. The good ole WWW should be accessible to anyone and everyone through any and every browser or program available.

So now, I will go do my homework, since I cannot distract myself with addicting internet games or listen to online radio.

Spanish Phrase of the day: "Seguro canguro"

Literally, it means "Surely Kangaroo!" However, it translates as Okidokee Smokey, or something along those lines.

Friday, October 15, 2004

War: Its official!

My roommate and I have declared all out war on each other! Don't worry, Mom and Dad, we're doing it in a very friendly way. We had a conference about it last night, and everything!

I am from Colorado, and she is from Minnesota. Colorado is home to a rather temperate climate, and Minnesota has four seasons or climatic zones: Hot, Very Hot, Cold, And VERY VERY Cold. This week features "Cold" as Mother Nature's preferred means of torture. For me, this is sweatshirt weather. Everyone else is digging their winter coats out from the trunk of their cars. My roommate especially, like my Grandma, is ALWAYS cold.

Easily stated, my roommate can't sleep unless our room is about 80 degrees Fahrenheit. I prefer a sleeping atmosphere of about 65 degrees. I have a fluffy down quilt. I might as well be using it. After all, my mom bought it for me after I told her I'd be spending the next four winters of my life in Minnesota. And so, each time I walk in the room, I open the window and turn the fan on. When I leave, my roommate immediately turns off the fan, shuts the window, and closes the drapes. Since the heaters are always on in our building, the room heats up rapidly. As soon as I get back, the drapes go back, the window is opened, and the fan is on again.

There is no snow on the ground yet. It is still the middle of the month of October. This is gonna be a long winter!
Monday, October 11, 2004

Life's little lesson for October 11

Every day, one learns new things. School has nothing to do with this process of learning. Indeed, this daily learning corresponds more with the acquisition of wisdom than the retention of "book learning," as direct schooling is often called. My grandma, one of the wisest, most venerable people I know, actively tries to 'learn something new for the day," as she calls it. Me, I just get slapped in the face by little things that seem to be either very insignificant or overly obvious. Maybe someday I'll learn to look for things that make a difference or offer key insights into that generalization we call the human condition, but for now, I will share with you those things that manifested themselves upon my person today.

1. A person whom one values for their character, experience, or judgment can make or break the defining mood of a specific day with one sentence or comment in passing.

2. Those simple joys of life that are often refered to inspirational calendars and self-help books can often include rearranging your room with a hyperactive roommate instead of walking to the library on a nice day to renew a book you are in the middle of reading and enjoying thoroughly.

I have decided to name my towel "SULLY" after the fuzzy blue monster in the movie Monsters Inc. He is blue, shaggy, and leaves blue fuzzies all over me when I get out of the shower. I have used him for a month and washed him twice, to no avail.

Spanish phrase for the day: "Que pasa, calabaza"

Literally it translates into "what's happening, pumpkin" However, the intended meaning is similar to the "what's up, dawg" phenomenon in English.



Thursday, October 07, 2004

A Rollerblader's Rant on Minnesota Roads

First off, let me inform you that Minnesota is part of the Midwest, and the Midwest is nothing but farms, small farms, large farms, communities, and larger communities. There are a few cities, but we don't talk about those. Seriously, what can places like Chicago, Milwaukee, Minneapolis-St. Paul, and Omaha have going for them anyways?

In these small communities, people spend their time... Farming. Or hunting. Or fishing. Or driving semi-trailers around trying to make money and get out of town. Since all the people are either at home, or driving to one of the 5 big cities to get away from home, there isn't a whole lot to do IN the towns. Which means that for a person like me, who doesn't watch TV, or have a car with which to drive to other places, life is rather boring. Even with the addition of eight wheels to the bottom of my feet in the form of Bauer inline skates, no braking mechanisms attached, this hilly town provides little in the way of occupation or entertainment.

Being that the town is located on a hill, one big giant hill that forms one part of the boundary to the Minnesota River Valley, going home is quite exhausting, and going anywhere else is dangerous. Everything being downhill from my ever so humble abode, I skate down the middle of the roads, avoiding the perilous, randomly terminating sidewalks, hoping that each car will conveniently time its arrival at the stop sign as I zoom by, and that there will be no cars in the vicinity of the stop signs I am forced to run at my precarious speed. (How's that for a run-on sentence? he he) The roads, and sidewalks when there are any, are in pitiable condition. I am incapable of understanding how any child can have fun with or desire rollerblades for their own amusement. Minnesota winters are harsh. Snow falls and stays for months on end. Plows go through frequently and trucks sprinkle liberal amounts of sand, gravel, and salt over the roads. By spring, the paved roads resemble county dirt roads and the pavement underneath the gravel is in poor condition. After a few years, the roads are indeed in a deplorable condition. Street sweeping is of no avail. People are more inclined to buy new cars when theirs rust out. Conveniently, the tires and suspension go out at the same time, justifying all the more the purchase of a new Buick. (Though not all Midwesterners are old grannies, they all drive old granny cars.) There are no foreign cars here, so Detroit and its fellow American car conspirators reap in the profit and most likely encourage Midwesterners to sit on the John Deere and in front of the talking box instead of maintaining their roads, disappointing this naive Idiot from a town where roads are paved every five years, and taxpayer money is being spent on a nine year highway improvement plan.

A final thought... How ironic is it that the road most newly paved and in the best condition that I have yet found is outside the city limits?

Wednesday, October 06, 2004

Culture, Amusement, and Edification

Today is the second day of the Nobel Conference, a scientific symposium of sorts, attempting to explore various branches of science that are not generally a part of popular and common knowledge. This year's topic is "The Science of Aging." However, that is not relevant to this particular blog. While attempting to achieve many goals in the production of this conference, its sponsor also takes this opportunity to showcase its students through integrating of music and art into the scientific aspect of the lectures and dialogs. Various musical ensembles performed before the introduction of a speaker during the conference, and though many were in attendance, young and old alike, few of them really kept quiet and listened to the music. I was shocked and appalled. What kind of cultured person can take two or three days out of their work week to visit a conference dedicated to science, put on by a liberal arts school, and integrating an art exhibit and a classical concert, and NOT have the consideration to listen to 10 minutes of music?!

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

My Epiphany

Today, after checking my email about five times and finding that nothing had changed, I realized: You have to send emails to people in order to get some back. After informing most of my friends that I was not a big fan of forwards, the volume in my inbox decreased rapidly, much to my immediate gratification. However, the ammount of meaningful emails arriving did not increase. Somehow, I was not perturbed. Perhaps, it is becuase, at the point in my life, I was not experiencing the drastic change going to an out of state college can have on your life. Now that I am over a thousand miles from the place that I called "Home" for 18 years, I realize that one cannot preserve one's mental integrity without the links to the past that one maintains through personal contact and those people we indiscriminatly name as "friends." Thus, to avoid the irrational and easily explicable dissapointment that I have found in my email inbox today, I will sign off now, and write to my correspondants, who were probably similarly dissapointed at the lack of mail from me in thier inboxes over the past week. What's the point of saying you're a writer if you don't write?