You know that feeling you get after a good workout, when you've worked muscles you haven't used in months, and you get that tightness in your arms and legs that reminds you what it's like to really live? I love that. I really do.
Well, finals week is about as hellish as I might have expected. I'm still sick (yes, still; yes, the same cold I've been fighting for almost two weeks now; the symptoms are slightly altered, but essentially the same). I've tried everything: tea with honey, chicken noodle soup, orange juice, three different kinds of painkillers and cold medicines, sleeping upwards of 10 hours a night. Nothing is working. All I have to say is that this bugger damn well better have run its course by the time Christmas break starts or I'll be pissed.
Meantime, I'm stressed. I have a lot of time in the days now since I have no classes to go to, but I'm so under the weather that doing anything seems to take an inordinate amount of effort. And there's just so much material I have to review for these finals. I'm holding my head above water for the time being; I think I did really well on my essay test in Global Politics, and the physics reviewing is going well so far. Tomorrow will be devoted almost entirely to studying/reading/writing history in preparation for that final on Thursday. Then Friday's the big physics exam, followed by move-out. The landlord at the new apartment is letting us move our stuff into the basement this week; she even gave us the key to the basement so we can do it on our own time. She's a very cool lady. Little Sarah and I move in January 1st; my Sarita is moving in January 3rd after she gets back from Ghana, which is another story that I'll tell later.
This will likely be my last post for a few days, for two reasons: 1) I won't have much time to blog, since I'll be studying like mad crazy, and 2) I won't have anything interesting to blog about, since I'll be spending all my time studying like mad crazy. Pessimistic? Yeah. Reality? Probably so.
Devastation. There was a huge windstorm at Pigott a few days ago. Close to ten percent of the trees in big parts of the camp are down. 40 tent platforms were damaged in the storm. There's currently a tree on top of the Eco-Con building. As of the beginning of the weekend, there were no fewer than four downed trees completely blocking camp roads. But best (and worst) of all was the adult showerhouse. It's a brand new building, hardly a year old, and looks solidly built. A tree fell on it and sliced through the roof like butter. It went right through the center support beam and down eight or ten feet. Of course I was upset about my camp getting thrashed, but it was so cool to see the destruction caused by the weather. Nature is powerful.
Redemption. You'll either know who I'm talking about or not, and either way is fine. I heard the rumors about him long before I actually met him. When I did meet him, his personality seemed to fit what I'd heard, so I bought in. For a solid year I assumed that the rumors were true, and furthermore that they defined who he was. But one of his best friends is a really cool guy who I look up to, and I wondered if maybe I'd gotten him wrong. So I spent some time with him this weekend, and we had a long talk. Turns out, the rumors are true, but they're not the whole story. There's a lot more to him. What I found out is that he really is a good guy and I can sympathise with him, because he reminds me a little of myself.
Frustration. I ended up at my parents' house earlier today due to logistical issues. It's the third weekend in a row I've been in Edgewood, and Christmas break is in a week. My tough city girl facade is cracking. Anyhow, I managed to get in a fight with my brother, the kind that makes you want to not finish your dinner and storm off in a huff. He very nearly made me cry. For the sake of my dignity, I'm going to claim it was the lack of sleep making me irritible and emotionally susceptible. Later that night I was telling my mom about wanting to change my major, and she wasn't very positive about it. She told me I should quit leaving things behind. I started here intending to double major in history and Spanish. Now those are subjects I never want to see again. Mom went on for a good 20 minutes about how I should still minor in Spanish, despite my explanations of why the Spanish department here pisses me off. She means well, and I know she has my best interests at heart. But it wasn't what I needed to hear. I wanted her to tell me she knew all along I should have been an English major, but that she knew I had to figure it out for myself, like Glinda tells Dorothy at the end of The Wizard of Oz. And if she wore the sparkly pink dress and waved a silver sceptor around, that'd be cool too.
As most of you know, I've been fighting an uphill battle against my history class all quarter. I started school here excited to study history. I had no idea what I was going to do with it, but I figured that I could work that out later, that at least I'd have fun while earning my degree. Last quarter I had a history class I didn't really like, but I figured that was just because it was an upper level class and I wasn't ready for it. It was a difficult class, but the worst part was that I didn't yet have the sophisticated vocabulary and knowledge of concepts that the upperclassmen and the professor had. Well, in the class I have this quarter, that I call "How to be a history major, part 1," we learned all the background information. We learned a dozen basic theories of historical analysis; we learned the specialized vocabulary; we read piece after piece analyzing historical analysis. None of it excited me--none of it was even remotely interesting--yet I struggled on, figuring that once I understood the background that I would grow to like postmodern historical analysis. I kept on believing that when I got through this class, all the future history classes would suddenly be great.
Last night I was struggling through my final history paper. I was about 800 words into the 1000-word essay and running out of steam when I thought to myself, I hate this. And then it hit me all at once. This wasn't the same as normal past-deadline frustration, or even irritation at a paper topic I didn't like. This paper synthesized all the concepts from the class, and I hated everything about it. I hated the theories, I hated the analysis, I hated the postmodern aversion to high politics, I hated the blandness of the texts. I hated the way we were expected to dissect beautiful historical symbols and ideas, leaving clinically accurate facts devoid of any grace. And I realized in that moment that this was not what I wanted to spend the rest of college doing. In that one instant I also understood what it is that I do want to major in: English. It's perfect. I love to read, I write a mean essay, and my family's been calling me the grammar nazi for years. Actually, I'm not really sure why it is that I never considered majoring in English before. Last night it just came to me, all of this, in one instant. Divine inspiration? I'd like to think so. When I finished the paper, I logged on to the online course catalog. The first class for the English major, Intro to Brit Lit, is being offered by one professor next quarter. There was one opening left. I call it fate.
I am proud to report that I have more Brinkley pictures! Hee-yah! Take that, Chris. These are really great photos from summer 2002, courtesy of Pack 474 of Kent. Oh, and it was Congo Safari theme for the cubbies that year.
Full Album--these are really great photos, and I think it's worth the time to go through the album (41 photos), but I've picked out some highlights in case you don't agree.
And a bonus: this site, put up a year ago by someone who apparently goes to my school. He has a few really great classic photos (including one of the OA longhouse), and is also advertising the CD-Rom the Cascade Scout Reservation put out last year chock full of photos spanning the history of the camps. I'm on it, by the way. Cooking a dutch oven cobbler, I believe. I could really go for some cobbler right now.
Mmmmm...I'm so full of noodley goodness. Sarah and I just got back from dinner at Ginger Lime, a Vietnamese restaurant right by campus. I highly recommend it. Get the pho. A "regular" sized bowl of the beef noodle soup will only set you back $6, and you'll be full for hours. (Sarah barely made a dent in hers; I nearly finished mine. But I was famished when we got there.) The atmosphere is mellow, the people are friendly, it's everything a restaurant should be. Plus, you get to practice using your chopsticks, and laugh together about who's the worst at using them, which is a good time in and of itself. Though really, noodles in broth are about the toughest thing in the world to eat with chopsticks, so nobody will be a master at it.
I rode my bike today, for the first time since I pulled that muscle in my back. It felt good to get out and make my legs work. Of course, I almost got hit by a car, and I came home exhausted, but it's a good exhausted. When it starts staying daylight longer, I'm totally going to try riding my bike to work.
We finally got ResLife to cave. I don't know if it was our persistence or our politeness, or what, but they finally decided to "make an exception" for us. So we're moving into the apartment for sure. I'd be ecstatically happy right now if I wasn't so darn sick. It's just a cold, but it's a mean cold. I maintain that this is the virus my mom and brother had a week ago, but they had flu-like symptoms in addition to the uber-sore-throat and sinus headaches I'm having. I'm hoping that those are not yet to come. It's Hell Week, and I'm not liking being sick for it AGAIN. Plus we're out of Cup o'Noodle, and the Cave only has gross flavors (Truly gross, like Picante Beef. Does anybody actually eat Picante Beef Cup o'Noodle?) Bleah. But on the plus side, I have plenty of cough drops, Halls extra-strong honey-lemon flavor, and right now I'm on the good side of the painkillers cycle, so I'm feeling decent.
Today, the blog post shall be a confessional, for I have sinned a good deal lately. Except that I don't really believe in sin per se. You know what I mean.
Despite the fact that I have three papers to write this week, my greatest accomplishments of the day are painting my nails, making my bed, and re-learning how to fold paper cranes. I now have a full sized mama crane and three babies sitting on my printer.
While writing this post, I originally typed "re-learning how to tie paper cranes." Tie paper cranes??? The sad part is I didn't catch it until several minutes later.
Having exhausted all the new content in the two dozen or so blogs I read recently, as well as Slate and the Onion, I read archives in more than one blog. Seriously. I have no idea where entire hours of the day went, but it's a good bet they were in Jules's and Wil's archives.
We got our tests back in physics today. I got an 82, which I was over the moon about, but my prof had added up the points incorrectly, so at the top of the test was a red 92, which I knew I hadn't earned. So then I had the ethical issue of whether I tell him, so he can correct his gradebook or just count it as "bank error in your favor." I chose the former, thinking that the right moral decision would make me a better person and give me a sense of fulfillment. But I'm not sure that it has. I just feel kind of dumb. Input?
I'm no longer taking school seriously. I only have two more weeks to hold on until break, but I can't seem to make myself care. It's almost enough to make me want to take a break from school for a quarter or two to do something else, but I can't really see myself moving back in with my folks, and in order to stay in town I'd have to find a full-time job, which doesn't really sound like all that much fun. I guess I'm just a spoiled rich girl, used to having everything be easy. That's not really fair, but I wonder sometimes if I am too fortunate for my own good.
Surprise, surprise, ResLife didn't call us today. What is surprising is that I don't much care. Their plot to make leaving the dorms too much trouble is inching closer to success. It would be so simple to stay in the dorms...then I wouldn't have to move, wouldn't have to worry about fighting the system and still getting my papers written. It would also cost quite a bit more, and would essentially prevent us from moving out before June, because nobody will want to sign a three-month lease with us! Grr. Damn you, ResLife&Housing. Damn you to hell!
Because you can never have too much well-deserved Bush-bashing, and because my blog has been 100% politics free for some time now (because I was annoyed with politics, not because there wasn't anything going on; I'm very remiss in not having commented on Massachussetts' Supreme Court ruling on gay marriage), I give you this recently discovered gem of Flash animation, soundtracked by NOFX. Enjoy!
