Light at the end of the tunnel

The insomniatic manifestations return!

I am filled with both delight and despair.

Tommorrow I have to wake up at seven a.m. so I can log into Viking Web and sign up for next semester's classes. If I get into all the ones I want, I will be taking Differential Equations (MAT 304), Differential Geometry (MAT 420), World Religions (REL 100), and Introduction to the Physical World ( PHY 101).

As surprising as it is, I actually have graduation in sight pretty easily. After this semester it turns out I need twelve more classes. So if I take four this spring, four next fall, and four again next spring then I'll be a college graduate. I don't even have to worry about taking a class this summer! (I may take a class at Dalton anyway, because I am strange like that.) Well, it's easy in theory anyway, I still have to manage to pass the classes in question...but I don't think there will be a serious problem, as long as I don't get too cocky. How invigorating it is to hear this, that the 1st stage in my progression from college student to college professor is almost complete... it's like there's a light at the end of the tunnel, and even though there is a longer, darker tunnel past this one, there's still that light there. It's decently motivating, and I'm getting excited about the classes I get to take, as I seem to have progressed to some more interesting math courses... though I also seem to be regressing in my humanties and social science electives, hence the freshman theatre class I ended up with this semester... But ah well. I think I'm probably decently rounded out in those areas, and a little more of the basics to pad around my corners won't kill me. And World Religions will probably be decently interesting, provided everyone is (alert, alert, warning, transition into hippie pinko commie mode imminent) reasonable and tolerant and open to discussion. At least it's not being taught by Waskey. That man was the reason I never took a philosophy class at Dalton. It wouldn't have been worth the time or money.

YAWP

I am currently eating cereal out of the box and drinking milk out of the carton.


I AM A BARBARIAN.

I filled up the car today because the Shell next to exit 353 on I-75 had gas at 2.49 a gallon, and my heart skipped a beat when I saw the sign. I bought a cloak and a leaf style clasp for my hobbit costume that I'm wearing to the party on Friday night (though I decided not to bring Sting... I think it's just inviting disaster). I should be working on my proofs...as usual...but I am not...as usual...

My sister somehow managed to get seven cakes for her birthday. SEVEN. CAKES.

I don't know how she does it! I always tell myself that I'm not going to fall for her fiendish plans, but somehow things never go exactly as I plan...like, she'll come up to me and say, "Paula, take me to the store," and I'll reply, "no, I'm not taking you to the store, you can drive yourself," and then fifteen minutes later I find myself behind the wheel of the car, suddenly waking up from a hypnotic trance, realizing the position I am in, hysterically wondering to myself how did this happen? as she puts the radio on her station or slips in one of her CD's. Or, occasionally while I was living at home, I'd wake up late, furiously throwing together clothes and my books and searching the house wildly, futilely for a certain pair of shoes...and give up on them, settling instead for another pair. Later that evening, she'd waltz in with the shoes on her feet. "I asked you this morning, and you said yes," she'd say, and I'd blurt, "Of course I said yes, I was asleep, you could have asked me for my immortal soul and I'd still've said yes!" but of course that's exactly why she asked me then.

All in all it makes me very relieved that she's usually on my side, because cakes, shoes, and mysterious powers of persuasion besides (maybe because), she's probably my best friend in the entire world.

Admitting there is a correlation between the current stage of my menstrual cycle and whether or not I am in kind of a depressed mood is like admitting that I am sometimes wrong about stuff. It may be true, but I'm not going to admit it anytime soon.

Adventures of an All-Female Dorm

Currently there are two girls, one at either end of the hall, both on cellphones, both sorting through what sounds like "boyfriend problems", very loudly, at 12:30 a.m. the night before Monday classes...

...and people wonder why sometimes I don't get along with other girls.

One name left and we start on Greek characters

Hurricane Vince developed up from nowhere in the last like, twelve hours, and is bound for Portugal.

PORTUGAL.

WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH NATURE?!?!

Physicist Phriday

Baron Ernest Rutherford
(1871 - 1937 )


"In science there is only physics; all the rest is stamp collecting."

So, uh, is there a Mrs. Christ?

So I went and saw Godspell tonight, as it was being produced by the theatre company here on campus...it was actually really good. Really really entertaining. The thing that makes Godspell it's that it all comes down to how the ensemble works with each other, and how each individual interprets everything... but the problem I always find with it is that they always find this young, handsome, hilarious, earnest, talented, charismatic guy to play Jesus...which I guess is the point, and the most effective way to get the message of the musical across, but damn if I don't spend the whole time going "I am not attracted to the Messiah, I am not attracted to the Messiah, I'm not attracted to the Messiah." And I guess that's not really a problem of the play so much as a problem of me. But anyway, Jesus was totally hot.

If I had a nickel for every damn dime I'd have half the time.

I should be typing out my proofs because I need to slip them into Ron's office before the science building closes...but what can I say? I am nothing if not an expert of putting things off a ridiculously dangerous amount of time. I am dreading getting the first part of that test back...it did not go well. It's kind of hazy seeing as how I was under the weather at the time...but I'm pretty sure it did not go well.

Mom, Dad and Elizabeth are coming down on Thursday to see the theatre here perform Godspell, and I'm supposed to be reserving tickets but it is proving harder than anticipated to get a call through to the office there...

I had an absolutely terrifying dream last night; it's been a really long time I had a truly scary one. I don't remember how it started or what it entailed, but there is an image burned into my mind, and that's the image of my Granma Vi , emaciated and sick-looking, hovering above the ground, empty glowing pits where her eyes should be, the voice erupting from her throat unlike her quiet brogue, unlike anything I ever experienced. I remember hysterical screaming and diving for cover, I remember skin splitting open, and I remember waking up and lying there thinking 'a dream, a dream, a dream', unable to move or speak or go back to sleep from the terror.

But in less disturbing news, I made an 89 on my last theatre test! Is it depressing at all that I'm disappointed with that grade?