New Orleans was mind-blowingly amazing. There are about 3 rolls' worth of pictures that we are in the process of getting developed (yes, we did things the old-fashioned disposable camera way) and I will scan and upload them when they come in. Once that happens, I will be better able to tell you the 263498 stories that I have.
Mary's here visiting this week, which is pretty much the best thing ever. She's sleeping on an air mattress on my floor (i.e. taking up all the floor space in my room and making it impossible to walk- the mattress gets picked up the moment she awakens), sometimes going to my classes, sometimes going to Katie's, sometimes hanging out, taking many many trips to Northampton, and Katie is being so so wonderful and taking Mary to all sorts of other places while I go to my 189457 classes and other Things That I Do. I used to be booked solid from 10:30-5:30 every day- that's starting to become more like 10-midnight, and I'm cool with it cause it's (mostly) fun stuff. The Girl Who Fell Through A Hole In Her Sweater (the play I'm sound designing, non-hip-and-with-it kids) opens April 9, so this week is the last push for us designers to get everything done... I got cast yesterday in another play, Yackagdayou, Brateslayou (And Other Such Nonsense), which is about the most awesome group of old people ever- they've been friends since their childhood camp days, and they're these really radical communist types (but weren't ever really involved in the Party) and their stories are so amazing and we're trying our best to do them justice. I'm doing double duty as Elly and Ellie- I had a meeting with Ted (who is playing my husband Davie) yesterday and we called the real Elly and Davie to talk to them- they are hilarious and wonderful and amazing and have the most fun relationship and I am very excited to be portraying them. We're doing a read-through tonight, so that should be great fun.
In non-theater news, life is great, math is fun, linguistics class is not, Jew class is the best ever and I'm already trying to plan my final paper around how this guy is the queer Philip Roth, circa 1958. Because Jews=queers, as I explained in my Yiddish Lit final paper. I keep meaning to write about other things, but I can't avoid it.
Wednesday, March 28, 2007
Saturday, March 17, 2007
So I'm Off
I'm heading over to Katie's house now, so that we can get to Hartford tomorrow morning, from whence I will be flying to New Orleans. Pray that the weather continues to cooperate- a bunch of people have had flights canceled thanks to this blizzard, but things should be clear enough for tomorrow. I'll be in New Orleans all week, coming back on Saturday, spending Sat night at Katie's, and picking Mary up from the airport on Sunday the 25th so that even more exciting adventures may ensue. If you need me this coming week, call me, as my darling Clara is staying here to cure AIDS and muscular dystrophy via World Community Grid- your computer can save the world in its spare time, too, so you should join.
I haven't really eaten today because SAGA's closed for spring break, so I'm going to figure out where my comrade's padre is so we can get some dinner. See you in a week!
I haven't really eaten today because SAGA's closed for spring break, so I'm going to figure out where my comrade's padre is so we can get some dinner. See you in a week!
Friday, March 16, 2007
It's a Good Thing
I'm glad I'm getting out of here on Sunday, and that my flight's not tomorrow. This was taken from my window just now. You can't quite tell how heavy the snow is in this picture, but I will tell you that there was none on the ground at 11:00 this morning, and so, in 6 hours, we have a few solid inches out there. There is a road right in front of that line of trees. You can't see it anymore.
Tuesday, March 06, 2007
Sickness= More Blogging?
Probably.
I had the most amazing dream this afternoon while napping, one that I'm still convinced is true.
Every now and then I dream of flying. I wish it weren't so cliche, but there it is. And flying in my dreams is the most perfectly natural act. It's like swimming, really. You push off from the ground, start pulling yourself into the air with your arms. Once you get as high as you want, you can tread the air to stay there- just the lightest of movements keeps you afloat. Movement across the air is as simple as movement across a pool. In the air, everyone is graceful and life feels effortless.
I have these dreams very occasionally. Maybe 3 times in my life. But I remember them. Remember them well.
This one took place at Hampshire, in the springtime. Everything was green and the sun was warm. There had just been a great rain, and there was a giant puddle in a field behind EDH, much as there were giant puddles in my way the last time I walked over there (was it just last Friday?). I had left my bag in my class, started to leave with nothing, as I frequently do in dreams. I noticed, however, and returned to retrieve it. Whoever had closed the class had been kind enough to hang my bag on a hook outside the door, and I took it and exited again. Outside, I saw a group of friends, standing on the other side of the deep puddle-marsh. They waved to me, and I to them, and they beckoned me to join. I had no wish to tread across the deep water, however, and so I handed my bag to someone who was sitting nearby, and took flight. Taking to the sky was the sort of act that's remembered, a trick from earlier in life that makes things easier, but is somehow rarely used. Once I landed, those around me were summarily impressed- they had not ever seen anyone fly. I explained that it is not something everyone can do, but then someone in the group bounced into the air, and then another, and soon a good 3/4 of us were soaring and playing, amazed that Hampshire had managed to bring together exactly the sorts of people who were innately able to fly. I remembered my forgotten bag, flew back to retrieve it, and the dream ended.
When I awoke, I could barely breathe and I was racked with coughing. It was well below freezing outside, and had gotten dark.
I'm still pretty sure I can fly.
I had the most amazing dream this afternoon while napping, one that I'm still convinced is true.
Every now and then I dream of flying. I wish it weren't so cliche, but there it is. And flying in my dreams is the most perfectly natural act. It's like swimming, really. You push off from the ground, start pulling yourself into the air with your arms. Once you get as high as you want, you can tread the air to stay there- just the lightest of movements keeps you afloat. Movement across the air is as simple as movement across a pool. In the air, everyone is graceful and life feels effortless.
I have these dreams very occasionally. Maybe 3 times in my life. But I remember them. Remember them well.
This one took place at Hampshire, in the springtime. Everything was green and the sun was warm. There had just been a great rain, and there was a giant puddle in a field behind EDH, much as there were giant puddles in my way the last time I walked over there (was it just last Friday?). I had left my bag in my class, started to leave with nothing, as I frequently do in dreams. I noticed, however, and returned to retrieve it. Whoever had closed the class had been kind enough to hang my bag on a hook outside the door, and I took it and exited again. Outside, I saw a group of friends, standing on the other side of the deep puddle-marsh. They waved to me, and I to them, and they beckoned me to join. I had no wish to tread across the deep water, however, and so I handed my bag to someone who was sitting nearby, and took flight. Taking to the sky was the sort of act that's remembered, a trick from earlier in life that makes things easier, but is somehow rarely used. Once I landed, those around me were summarily impressed- they had not ever seen anyone fly. I explained that it is not something everyone can do, but then someone in the group bounced into the air, and then another, and soon a good 3/4 of us were soaring and playing, amazed that Hampshire had managed to bring together exactly the sorts of people who were innately able to fly. I remembered my forgotten bag, flew back to retrieve it, and the dream ended.
When I awoke, I could barely breathe and I was racked with coughing. It was well below freezing outside, and had gotten dark.
I'm still pretty sure I can fly.
This is what I've written on my wall recently. Just to give you a sense of where my head is. That's Pascal's triangle, calculated to the 21st row by hand, and 2 Philip Roth quotes, one written left-to-right and the other right-to-left. Because right-to-left felt more natural to me today.
That is all.
Monday, March 05, 2007
Children!
So on that Friday that I went on the Salem Adventure of Doom, in the morning before the SAoD, my theater design class went to visit some children and milk them of ideas so that we can design an awesome kids' play. And I know my mother loves pictures of children, so these are for you, Mom.
In other news, I am curled up in my death bed with the bird flu. Okay, not that extreme, but I had a crazy fever (and awesome fever dreams) last night, and I've been trying my hardest to cough up a lung today. Good thing Katie brings me orange juice and pizza and quesadillas (and good thing Heather is here with her car to drive Katie to get me these things) or I would be dead for real. Maybe I'll manage to go to class and work tomorrow, maybe not. I have at least written and submitted (via e-mail) the paper due in said class tomorrow, so I am Ahead. I hope.
Monday, February 26, 2007
Wait- what?
First, pictures from this lovely crazy weekend:
If you really insist, I have a long and crazy story to tell. I've told it many a time. It's best when Sarah and I tell it in tandem. It's probably even better (and highly inappropriate) when Joanna is added to that mix. I do plan on captioning those photos sometime, but today is Monday, which means I had yoga at 8:30, ate breakfast, went to Theater, ate lunch, walked so so far to student employment only to discover that it wasn't 1 yet so they weren't open (meaning I get to go again Wednesday- joy), sat in my room for 45 minutes and stared at the wall because I can't do much more, went to class at 2:30, got out of class at 5:45 (that's 25 minutes after I should), ate dinner, thought I was going to Yiddish but actually went to an audition (so I guess I'm in a play now since I have such an abundance of time? It's an awesome play about Yiddish though so I can't complain) and then Yiddish lasted until 9:30 (it was mostly stories and not language but they were awesome stories) (also I think I might go to Siberia this August) and now I am finally done with my day. So I'm going to make a big diagram of Pascal's triangle on my wall because it soothes me and I'm going to need soothing in the coming months.
UPDATE 10:45: captions done!
If you really insist, I have a long and crazy story to tell. I've told it many a time. It's best when Sarah and I tell it in tandem. It's probably even better (and highly inappropriate) when Joanna is added to that mix. I do plan on captioning those photos sometime, but today is Monday, which means I had yoga at 8:30, ate breakfast, went to Theater, ate lunch, walked so so far to student employment only to discover that it wasn't 1 yet so they weren't open (meaning I get to go again Wednesday- joy), sat in my room for 45 minutes and stared at the wall because I can't do much more, went to class at 2:30, got out of class at 5:45 (that's 25 minutes after I should), ate dinner, thought I was going to Yiddish but actually went to an audition (so I guess I'm in a play now since I have such an abundance of time? It's an awesome play about Yiddish though so I can't complain) and then Yiddish lasted until 9:30 (it was mostly stories and not language but they were awesome stories) (also I think I might go to Siberia this August) and now I am finally done with my day. So I'm going to make a big diagram of Pascal's triangle on my wall because it soothes me and I'm going to need soothing in the coming months.
UPDATE 10:45: captions done!
Friday, February 23, 2007
Whoa
On a whim, I'm sitting in a swankier-than-expected hotel in Salem, Massachusetts after the most eventful car ride possible. I've never been happier to see an interstate. I'm surprised how much I associate 95 with home. Salem is the cutest town ever, and we are beyond excited. There will be lots of pictures, I promise.
Wednesday, February 14, 2007
Snow Patrol
I got up early so I could be the first one to the snow today. To get out before the men come with their shovels and clear the walks. Before there are footprints crossing everywhere and you can't pick which path to follow.
I wasn't the very first one out. Someone was waiting at the bus stop when I went outside. The bus was running, the roads were plowed. One set of tire tracks led into the parking lot. I followed it as long as I could. I didn't want to break more snow than I had to. Reaching the edge of the parking lot, though, I had to create my own path.
Walking on snow that hasn't been walked on yet is like discovering a new world. You know, without a doubt, that no living thing has been there recently. The snow was still falling, hard flakes driven by the wind that stung my face when they hit. The snow held under my feet, not leaving me to sink to the ground. I watched it blow off the roof of the Book Center as I walked toward the garden. The apple trees there are my favorite on campus, all gnarled and twisted. The pond was covered, marked only by the reeds and rocks poking from the snow, otherwise indistinguishable from the ground around it.
I didn't walk very far into the garden. I hate breaking too much snow. I want to leave things undisturbed, let others enjoy them too. I retraced my steps back, only stepping where I had already left footprints. By now, the wind was full in my face and the snow was starting to blind me. The walk home seemed longer than it ever had before.
When I got back to Dakin, the crews were starting to shovel the stoop.
Friday, February 09, 2007
I Know You Miss Me
But I'm busy. I shall crunch my schedule from this week for you, and maybe you'll understand.
Monday, 5 Feb:
8:12- roll out of bed, pull on clothing
8:25- meet Katie, walk to RCC (halfway across campus)
8:30-Yoga
10:00- buy breakfast (instant oatmeal) at Bridge
10:15- run back to room, change clothes, grab stuff for class
10:22- hurry all the way across campus to EDH
10:30- Collaboration and Problem Solving (theater design) class
11:54- out of class, walk all the way across campus to SAGA for lunch
12:45ish- return to room, review homework for probability, relax
2:20- leave room, walk halfway across campus to Cole Science
2:23- arrive at class early to snag good seat
2:30- Probability
3:50- Class ends punctually, walk other half of campus to EDH
4:05- Mapping Jewish American Generations starts late
5:28- Mapping Jewish American Generations ends late, hurry across campus to SAGA for dinner in biting cold
6:20- return to room, grab stuff for Yiddish, walk short distance to FPH
6:30- Yiddish
7:58- truncated class ends due to only Debi, Nick and I being there
8:50- walk halfway across campus to Bridge
9:00- meeting about New Orleans trip (spring break, to gut houses and such), adjourned with conclusion that another meeting is needed
10:00- retire to Jack's room, eat pie, do crossword
11:00- Fake News
12:00- return to room, e-mail
12:20- sleep
Tuesday, 6 Feb:
9:04- awakened by phone call from Katie, who has to go to UMass to have her (infected) eye examined
9:43- shower, dress, prepare for class
10:23- hop, skip, jump to ASH
10:30- Child Language
11:59- return to room, wait for phone call update from Katie
1:17- Katie returns from Ordeal
1:22- go to lunch
2:05- walk to library, pick up movie for Jew screening, get crossword puzzle
2:31- read play for theater, crossword, do nothing of intense consequence
6:00- dinner
6:40- relax
6:55- walk to FPH bearing video
7:00- fiddle with projector
7:05- professor talks about television
7:08- begin movie
8:46- movie concludes, fiddle with projector, return to room
8:48- relax, e-mail
9:30- hall meeting
9:40- decide to go to Katie's room
9:45- write paper for Jew class
10:20- hang out
11:00- Fake News
12:11- sleep
Wednesday, 7 Feb
8:28- rise and shine, throw on clothing, walk halfway across campus to Aaron's office
8:55- talk to Aaron's secretary, realize that I missed a voicemail saying that he cannot meet with me this morning but would noon be okay, smile pleasantly
9:00- silent scream to empty campus in frozen air
9:09- sit in room, try to make oatmeal via kettle, fail once again
9:51- shower
10:18- walk all the way across campus to EDH
10:30- Collaboration and Problem Solving
11:40- become Sound Designer for class play
12:05- arrive at Aaron's office
12:08- Aaron arrives at Aaron's office, meeting ensues
12:30- leave Aaron's office, call Katie, lunch
1:56- return to room, breathe, print paper for Jew class, let Dulcey use printer
2:12- leave room, walk to library
2:15- post office
2:18- return movie
2:21- arrive at probability, snag good seat
2:30- Probability
3:50- Probability ends punctually, walk to Bridge, buy apple schorle, walk to EDH
4:00- Mapping Jewish American generations
5:22- Jew class ends slightly more punctually, walk across campus to dorm
5:30- SAGA, dinner
6:15- Katie's room, try to squeeze in an episode of Top Design on internet
7:25- walk to FPH
7:30- panel on Iraq war by 3 professors from the 5 colleges
8:15- panelists open to questions of varying skill and interest
9:20- panel ends, walk to library
9:25- arrive at meeting early, snag mediocre seats
9:30- meeting about New Orleans makes a few decisions but not many
9:59- library about to close, meeting adjourns, hurry back to Dakin
10:03- find lounge, begin search for Bravo
10:07- discover that many channels have been deleted from flipping on tv, fix, find Bravo (channel 57)
10:08- watch Top Design, feel complete
11:00- Fake News
12:05- collapse, sleep or something like it
Thursday, 8 Feb
9:56- awaken to alarm for first time in days
10:01- shower
10:23- walk to ASH
10:30- Child Language, look at pictures of babies
11:50- walk to SAGA, eat lunch
12:50- return to room
12:54- leave room, walk to Yiddish Book Center
12:59- meet with Nora
1:02- meet Aaron, confirm that I am working for 4 different departments at the same time (somehow)
1:09- meet with Randi, begin training
1:20- begin entering visitor book information into computer
2:30- move from Randi's computer to work-study computer
5:07- receive "where are you" text from Katie
5:13- leave work
5:17- return to room, gather laundry
5:24- begin laundry
5:53- go to SAGA, eat dinner
6:30- return to laundry room
7:59- complete laundry, run upstairs
8:02- commence cookie party with My Name Is Earl
8:30- The Office
8:55- get final load out of dryer
9:00- Scrubs
9:30- 30 Rock
10:00- Anderson Cooper 360 Mourns Anna Nicole Smith
10:30- The Sarah Silverman Show
11:00- Fake News
12:03- return to room, make bed
12:20- commence blogging
1:05- finally sleep
Monday, 5 Feb:
8:12- roll out of bed, pull on clothing
8:25- meet Katie, walk to RCC (halfway across campus)
8:30-Yoga
10:00- buy breakfast (instant oatmeal) at Bridge
10:15- run back to room, change clothes, grab stuff for class
10:22- hurry all the way across campus to EDH
10:30- Collaboration and Problem Solving (theater design) class
11:54- out of class, walk all the way across campus to SAGA for lunch
12:45ish- return to room, review homework for probability, relax
2:20- leave room, walk halfway across campus to Cole Science
2:23- arrive at class early to snag good seat
2:30- Probability
3:50- Class ends punctually, walk other half of campus to EDH
4:05- Mapping Jewish American Generations starts late
5:28- Mapping Jewish American Generations ends late, hurry across campus to SAGA for dinner in biting cold
6:20- return to room, grab stuff for Yiddish, walk short distance to FPH
6:30- Yiddish
7:58- truncated class ends due to only Debi, Nick and I being there
8:50- walk halfway across campus to Bridge
9:00- meeting about New Orleans trip (spring break, to gut houses and such), adjourned with conclusion that another meeting is needed
10:00- retire to Jack's room, eat pie, do crossword
11:00- Fake News
12:00- return to room, e-mail
12:20- sleep
Tuesday, 6 Feb:
9:04- awakened by phone call from Katie, who has to go to UMass to have her (infected) eye examined
9:43- shower, dress, prepare for class
10:23- hop, skip, jump to ASH
10:30- Child Language
11:59- return to room, wait for phone call update from Katie
1:17- Katie returns from Ordeal
1:22- go to lunch
2:05- walk to library, pick up movie for Jew screening, get crossword puzzle
2:31- read play for theater, crossword, do nothing of intense consequence
6:00- dinner
6:40- relax
6:55- walk to FPH bearing video
7:00- fiddle with projector
7:05- professor talks about television
7:08- begin movie
8:46- movie concludes, fiddle with projector, return to room
8:48- relax, e-mail
9:30- hall meeting
9:40- decide to go to Katie's room
9:45- write paper for Jew class
10:20- hang out
11:00- Fake News
12:11- sleep
Wednesday, 7 Feb
8:28- rise and shine, throw on clothing, walk halfway across campus to Aaron's office
8:55- talk to Aaron's secretary, realize that I missed a voicemail saying that he cannot meet with me this morning but would noon be okay, smile pleasantly
9:00- silent scream to empty campus in frozen air
9:09- sit in room, try to make oatmeal via kettle, fail once again
9:51- shower
10:18- walk all the way across campus to EDH
10:30- Collaboration and Problem Solving
11:40- become Sound Designer for class play
12:05- arrive at Aaron's office
12:08- Aaron arrives at Aaron's office, meeting ensues
12:30- leave Aaron's office, call Katie, lunch
1:56- return to room, breathe, print paper for Jew class, let Dulcey use printer
2:12- leave room, walk to library
2:15- post office
2:18- return movie
2:21- arrive at probability, snag good seat
2:30- Probability
3:50- Probability ends punctually, walk to Bridge, buy apple schorle, walk to EDH
4:00- Mapping Jewish American generations
5:22- Jew class ends slightly more punctually, walk across campus to dorm
5:30- SAGA, dinner
6:15- Katie's room, try to squeeze in an episode of Top Design on internet
7:25- walk to FPH
7:30- panel on Iraq war by 3 professors from the 5 colleges
8:15- panelists open to questions of varying skill and interest
9:20- panel ends, walk to library
9:25- arrive at meeting early, snag mediocre seats
9:30- meeting about New Orleans makes a few decisions but not many
9:59- library about to close, meeting adjourns, hurry back to Dakin
10:03- find lounge, begin search for Bravo
10:07- discover that many channels have been deleted from flipping on tv, fix, find Bravo (channel 57)
10:08- watch Top Design, feel complete
11:00- Fake News
12:05- collapse, sleep or something like it
Thursday, 8 Feb
9:56- awaken to alarm for first time in days
10:01- shower
10:23- walk to ASH
10:30- Child Language, look at pictures of babies
11:50- walk to SAGA, eat lunch
12:50- return to room
12:54- leave room, walk to Yiddish Book Center
12:59- meet with Nora
1:02- meet Aaron, confirm that I am working for 4 different departments at the same time (somehow)
1:09- meet with Randi, begin training
1:20- begin entering visitor book information into computer
2:30- move from Randi's computer to work-study computer
5:07- receive "where are you" text from Katie
5:13- leave work
5:17- return to room, gather laundry
5:24- begin laundry
5:53- go to SAGA, eat dinner
6:30- return to laundry room
7:59- complete laundry, run upstairs
8:02- commence cookie party with My Name Is Earl
8:30- The Office
8:55- get final load out of dryer
9:00- Scrubs
9:30- 30 Rock
10:00- Anderson Cooper 360 Mourns Anna Nicole Smith
10:30- The Sarah Silverman Show
11:00- Fake News
12:03- return to room, make bed
12:20- commence blogging
1:05- finally sleep
Thursday, January 18, 2007
Marzipan
I decided to begin eating my Milka Marzipan bar today, but I wanted to savor every single experience this chocolate bar offers. The crinkle of the foil as I unwrap it, the firm bar itself, caressing its sections with my fingers, that finest-on-earth smell of almonds and chocolate and sugar that makes my mouth water. I could just sit here and smell it forever.... carefully breaking one section off and wrapping the rest for later, holding the chocolate in my mouth as I type, nearly exploding as my saliva rushes up to greet the familiar taste, as the cocoa melts away and dissolves into my mouth. I nibble, wanting to make this moment last as long as I can, pulling away tiny layers of bittersweet chocolate before I reach the marzipan I so long for. I suck at the chocolate, afraid that biting will ruin everything, pulling the whole square into my mouth. Then it happens, the chocolate gives way to marzipan underneath and I close my eyes in ecstasy, carefully chewing that paste which makes my world go 'round.
Umbrella Chasing
Stepping off the bus at the University of Massachusetts's Amherst campus, I had little trouble finding the library, a 26-story brick tower standing above a long, still-unfrozen pond where the Canada geese who have been migrating much slower this winter were flocking, filling the air with their honks as I slipped through the automatic doors and moved to the elevator. A quick glance at the directory told me that I'd want the 11th floor, and I pushed the up button.
"Here they are, two North Americans, a man and a woman just over and just under forty, come to spend their lives in Mexico and already lost as they travel cross-country over the central plateaus." (Harriet Doerr, Stories for Ibarra)
I love libraries, always have. Because UMass's library is so huge, you can get lost much more easily. Another girl got out of the elevator on the same floor as me, but I didn't see her again, although I spent over an hour wandering the rows, carefully pulling the books I had listed, taking them to the desk where I had set up camp, casting off coat, scarf, hat, mittens, and then copied the first lines of each book down into my notebook, taking care not to miss a word, and not to read beyond the sentence I copied.
"As soon as the Ford Touring car crossed the St. Paul city limits on April 20, 1934 ("You Are Leaving St. Paul, Minn., Home of the Inlagd Sill Herring Festival, Please Visit Us Again!"), and passed into the great, square-upon-square expanse of the surrounding farmland, Bena jotted down the odometer reading with the golf pencil she kept in the ashtray: 5,434." (Heidi Julavit, The Mineral Palace)
My mind drifted back to the Girl with the Red Umbrella as I pondered my own first sentence. I knew she'd feature in my book. I knew that she'd come to represent the obsession that would drive my characters, who would start lingering in public spaces each time it rained, searching the crowds for that flash of color, unsure what to do should She appear again.
"A freakishly August-like afternoon in May of that year, Mark Singer stands overheated and spattered with light at the altar of the Episcopal church on Third, makes his vows to Olivia Stavros, turns and lifts the gauzy veil from her face." (David Long, The Falling Boy)
It was sunny today. The first such day in a while. Sunny, and bitterly cold. I spent a lot of time at bus stops, still learning the Wintersession schedule, which is infrequent and less convenient than usual. It makes me think about last year, waiting at the bus stop in the bitter cold, by myself. Maybe that's why I wanted to speak German so much today. I think my first novel should be in Yiddish.
"One afternoon, three years after the beginning of the new century, red dust that was once rich mountain soil quivers in the air." (Hari Kunzru, The Impressionist)
Katie read somewhere that people with attention disorders are more creative because they see the world as many disconnected parts and thus have an easier time combining the pieces to make something new. I've never had trouble focusing. I'm the most rational, logical person I know. I don't enter anything without careful consideration. Hence today's research. Rather than sitting down, letting a few words fly out, calling it the first sentence of my debut novel and being done with it, I decided to see how other authors began their foray into the literary world. I chose books I've never read, books I know nothing about. Many of the sentences intrigued me, offering me a whole story in their implications, laying a framework for what was sure to come.
"Some nights she still goes over every detail, beginning with the weather and proceeding to the drop of blood on the sheet- her quick wish for a man with straight white teeth and red lips- and then his arrival." (Elizabeth Hay, A Student of Weather)
I closed every book after reading the first sentence. Closed it, took it back to the shelf, replaced it among the hundreds of other volumes that I'll never open, never know. Hundreds of roads I'll not explore, hundreds of lives I'll never touch, hundreds of girls walking away from the mailbox, umbrellas swinging in unison with their singular gait.
"We used to stay in bed most of the weekend, Hugo and I, when we lived in the attic of a rambling house with pinnacles and gables, among chestnut trees, on the edge of a park in South London." (Nuala O'Faolain, My Dream of You)
A girl was reshelving books while I was working. I was embarrassed to put books back if she could see me. I feel like it's against library etiquette. They have one special shelf for the books you've picked up, as if you're not smart enough to put the number written on the spine back in order with all the others, as if PS3559.8715 R63 is a code that only the specially trained can decipher, and not simply a label to be put in numerical and alphabetical order with all the rest. When I had a book to replace on the aisle she was working on, I slipped it onto her little cart, hoping she wouldn't notice the sudden addition. I'm certain she did.
"You should have seen us when we had our act together, top of our game, toast of the town, walking and talking miracles and- you'd better believe it- the real American thing." (P. F. Kluge, Biggest Elvis)
My bus came at 5:25. I had hoped to catch the 4:45, but I'd only written down 7 or 8 sentences by that point, and I needed more time. I didn't find the 25 books I'd intended, but was forced to stop at 21. I spent at least 7 minutes waiting at the bus stop. Time for 1 or 2 more sentences. Time to figure out the winning formula. Time to determine if the most interesting titles really do lead to the most unassuming first sentences, with the plain titles pouring life and tension and interest into the space before that first period. Instead, I stood in the cold until I could return to Hampshire, eat dinner, go to Yiddish class, do all the things that continually keep me from writing.
"Mike always teased me about my memory, about how I could go back years and year to what people were wearing on a given occasion, right down to their jewelry or shoes." (Ann Packer, The Dive from Clausen's Pier)
I don't write fiction. I don't write poetry. I don't write plays or movies or stories or any of the other things that spring from the imagination. I write about the things that happen to me and that I cause to happen. I embellish to make it sound well, to make the sentences line up nicely on the page, to please whatever meager aesthetics I possess. Were I ever to write a novel (which would be nice to accomplish), it will have to arise from the things I have known. And so I return to the image that I've been carrying around, red umbrella, mailbox, antiques store, fog, mountains, feverish typing, cold, puddles, sleep, dreams. My first sentence.
"She'd never seen the antiques store on Pleasant Street open before, but, then again, she rarely walked this far from the center of town, and wouldn't have today if the mailman hadn't come so early, forcing her to walk to the post office to mail that letter, which had to arrive by Tuesday or everything would be ruined."
"Here they are, two North Americans, a man and a woman just over and just under forty, come to spend their lives in Mexico and already lost as they travel cross-country over the central plateaus." (Harriet Doerr, Stories for Ibarra)
I love libraries, always have. Because UMass's library is so huge, you can get lost much more easily. Another girl got out of the elevator on the same floor as me, but I didn't see her again, although I spent over an hour wandering the rows, carefully pulling the books I had listed, taking them to the desk where I had set up camp, casting off coat, scarf, hat, mittens, and then copied the first lines of each book down into my notebook, taking care not to miss a word, and not to read beyond the sentence I copied.
"As soon as the Ford Touring car crossed the St. Paul city limits on April 20, 1934 ("You Are Leaving St. Paul, Minn., Home of the Inlagd Sill Herring Festival, Please Visit Us Again!"), and passed into the great, square-upon-square expanse of the surrounding farmland, Bena jotted down the odometer reading with the golf pencil she kept in the ashtray: 5,434." (Heidi Julavit, The Mineral Palace)
My mind drifted back to the Girl with the Red Umbrella as I pondered my own first sentence. I knew she'd feature in my book. I knew that she'd come to represent the obsession that would drive my characters, who would start lingering in public spaces each time it rained, searching the crowds for that flash of color, unsure what to do should She appear again.
"A freakishly August-like afternoon in May of that year, Mark Singer stands overheated and spattered with light at the altar of the Episcopal church on Third, makes his vows to Olivia Stavros, turns and lifts the gauzy veil from her face." (David Long, The Falling Boy)
It was sunny today. The first such day in a while. Sunny, and bitterly cold. I spent a lot of time at bus stops, still learning the Wintersession schedule, which is infrequent and less convenient than usual. It makes me think about last year, waiting at the bus stop in the bitter cold, by myself. Maybe that's why I wanted to speak German so much today. I think my first novel should be in Yiddish.
"One afternoon, three years after the beginning of the new century, red dust that was once rich mountain soil quivers in the air." (Hari Kunzru, The Impressionist)
Katie read somewhere that people with attention disorders are more creative because they see the world as many disconnected parts and thus have an easier time combining the pieces to make something new. I've never had trouble focusing. I'm the most rational, logical person I know. I don't enter anything without careful consideration. Hence today's research. Rather than sitting down, letting a few words fly out, calling it the first sentence of my debut novel and being done with it, I decided to see how other authors began their foray into the literary world. I chose books I've never read, books I know nothing about. Many of the sentences intrigued me, offering me a whole story in their implications, laying a framework for what was sure to come.
"Some nights she still goes over every detail, beginning with the weather and proceeding to the drop of blood on the sheet- her quick wish for a man with straight white teeth and red lips- and then his arrival." (Elizabeth Hay, A Student of Weather)
I closed every book after reading the first sentence. Closed it, took it back to the shelf, replaced it among the hundreds of other volumes that I'll never open, never know. Hundreds of roads I'll not explore, hundreds of lives I'll never touch, hundreds of girls walking away from the mailbox, umbrellas swinging in unison with their singular gait.
"We used to stay in bed most of the weekend, Hugo and I, when we lived in the attic of a rambling house with pinnacles and gables, among chestnut trees, on the edge of a park in South London." (Nuala O'Faolain, My Dream of You)
A girl was reshelving books while I was working. I was embarrassed to put books back if she could see me. I feel like it's against library etiquette. They have one special shelf for the books you've picked up, as if you're not smart enough to put the number written on the spine back in order with all the others, as if PS3559.8715 R63 is a code that only the specially trained can decipher, and not simply a label to be put in numerical and alphabetical order with all the rest. When I had a book to replace on the aisle she was working on, I slipped it onto her little cart, hoping she wouldn't notice the sudden addition. I'm certain she did.
"You should have seen us when we had our act together, top of our game, toast of the town, walking and talking miracles and- you'd better believe it- the real American thing." (P. F. Kluge, Biggest Elvis)
My bus came at 5:25. I had hoped to catch the 4:45, but I'd only written down 7 or 8 sentences by that point, and I needed more time. I didn't find the 25 books I'd intended, but was forced to stop at 21. I spent at least 7 minutes waiting at the bus stop. Time for 1 or 2 more sentences. Time to figure out the winning formula. Time to determine if the most interesting titles really do lead to the most unassuming first sentences, with the plain titles pouring life and tension and interest into the space before that first period. Instead, I stood in the cold until I could return to Hampshire, eat dinner, go to Yiddish class, do all the things that continually keep me from writing.
"Mike always teased me about my memory, about how I could go back years and year to what people were wearing on a given occasion, right down to their jewelry or shoes." (Ann Packer, The Dive from Clausen's Pier)
I don't write fiction. I don't write poetry. I don't write plays or movies or stories or any of the other things that spring from the imagination. I write about the things that happen to me and that I cause to happen. I embellish to make it sound well, to make the sentences line up nicely on the page, to please whatever meager aesthetics I possess. Were I ever to write a novel (which would be nice to accomplish), it will have to arise from the things I have known. And so I return to the image that I've been carrying around, red umbrella, mailbox, antiques store, fog, mountains, feverish typing, cold, puddles, sleep, dreams. My first sentence.
"She'd never seen the antiques store on Pleasant Street open before, but, then again, she rarely walked this far from the center of town, and wouldn't have today if the mailman hadn't come so early, forcing her to walk to the post office to mail that letter, which had to arrive by Tuesday or everything would be ruined."
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Out of Order
Last night, I printed off 18 Out of Order signs. Today, I posted them around school, hoping to cause mass social breakdown and general mayhem. Tomorrow, I plan on taking pictures of whatever signs are still up.
Things I put an out of order sign on today:
1. The shower, just before I stepped into it to take a shower. (Later, Jack showed up, saw the sign and said "What! Not the good shower!" He knows that I am doing this prank today, but is still unsure if the shower works or not.)
2. Jack. At dinner, he ate the sign, which I think proves my point.
3. The bus stop.
4. Scotties's post office box.
5. The inside of an elevator at the library, over the button for the first floor. (I put it in when riding up. When I went to return down in the same elevator, someone had moved the sign away from the buttons. I replaced it.)
6. The outside of the other elevator on the third floor.
7. A container of napkins at the Bridge.
8. A bench in the middle of a field.
9. Somebody's bicycle parked outside of the Funky Party House.
10. The mirror in a bathroom inside the Funky Party House.
11. Alex's crock-pot. (It'll probably be a while before he finds this one.)
12. The television in the lounge of hall J3.
13. A sign pointing to the dining hall.
14. The chocolate milk dispenser in the dining hall.
15. Some graffiti on the outside of the dorms about how you shouldn't join the military, which has already been responded to with some paper signs about how graffiti is not cool.
16. An emergency phone.
17. A dish-rack in the bathroom of G2.
18. My hall's balcony door, on the outside coming in.
Things I put an out of order sign on today:
1. The shower, just before I stepped into it to take a shower. (Later, Jack showed up, saw the sign and said "What! Not the good shower!" He knows that I am doing this prank today, but is still unsure if the shower works or not.)
2. Jack. At dinner, he ate the sign, which I think proves my point.
3. The bus stop.
4. Scotties's post office box.
5. The inside of an elevator at the library, over the button for the first floor. (I put it in when riding up. When I went to return down in the same elevator, someone had moved the sign away from the buttons. I replaced it.)
6. The outside of the other elevator on the third floor.
7. A container of napkins at the Bridge.
8. A bench in the middle of a field.
9. Somebody's bicycle parked outside of the Funky Party House.
10. The mirror in a bathroom inside the Funky Party House.
11. Alex's crock-pot. (It'll probably be a while before he finds this one.)
12. The television in the lounge of hall J3.
13. A sign pointing to the dining hall.
14. The chocolate milk dispenser in the dining hall.
15. Some graffiti on the outside of the dorms about how you shouldn't join the military, which has already been responded to with some paper signs about how graffiti is not cool.
16. An emergency phone.
17. A dish-rack in the bathroom of G2.
18. My hall's balcony door, on the outside coming in.
What Providence, What Divine Intelligence
I'm wrapped up quite thoroughly in the process of Finding Myself and of learning Yiddish these days. I'm also busy trying to have strange adventures to make my friends wonder. In any case, expect a shift in the sorts of things you read here. Also, enjoy a few days worth of back-posts that have just been discovered by leading scholars.
Monday, January 15, 2007
My Rainbow World
I colored a map of the world today, color-coding it based on my feelings towards visiting various places. I'm not very discriminating when it comes to visiting things, really. I'm kind of restless, so, after coloring the few little green (places I've been) bits I could manage (and I'm selfish enough to divide my own country into states but nobody else's), I just kind of scribbled everything in with my yellow marker (places I'd like to visit). Except Brazil. I hate Brazil. And Uruguay is hardly worth my attention, so it's red too. (Everyone should go to Rio at some point, though, so I gave Rio a little purple dot) Then I felt kind of guilty at the monochromatism of the whole thing, so I decided that the very very northern regions of some areas could maybe be red too.And then I looked at it for a while, and decided that another level of information was in order. Yellow means "it would be cool if I went here at some point," sure, but I decided to add a purple layer for "these are places I am honestly interested in visiting, rather than just having an insatiable need for Newness." And then I started adding stripes to places that are somewhere between yellow and purple, and stripes to places I have been but should go again (I need to make a serious trip to Italy and France because I have only spent a few days in each of these places and there's a whole lot more to see. Ditto to Austria, except I need to see the cities and not the mountains next time I'm there.)
A lot of the purple turned kinda brownish over yellow, so I enhanced it with Adobe Photoshop Image-Editing Software.
Yes, Japan is red too. I don't have anything against Japan, but I have a whole lot against silly Americans who are obsessed with Japan and silly Japanese people who are obsessed with America. So my refusal to visit is sort of a collective "screw you" to those people, as is my general ignoring of Japanese culture.
Purging
Sometimes we hold on to things that we like long past their use to us, just because they make us smile. Today, looking in my sock drawer, I realized that I have a pair of socks that no longer have any heels. These socks are neon green, and each depicts a vampire playing the upright bass, and they have little non-slip music notes on the other side. They're thick, fuzzy on the inside, so warm, which is why they've been worn through- I wore them frequently last year on my long walks to school, their thickness keeping my toes from freezing as I trod through the snow. I've clung to them, certain that, even in their lack of a heel, they are still useful to me. They still make me smile. I feel Hallowe'enly festive when I put them on, although I usually forget to wear them on Hallowe'en.
But they're past their prime. Their time has come. I walked down the hall to the trash can, carefully spread them out from the tight ball I keep them in, and dropped them in, never to be seen again.
But they're past their prime. Their time has come. I walked down the hall to the trash can, carefully spread them out from the tight ball I keep them in, and dropped them in, never to be seen again.
Saturday, January 13, 2007
The Girl With the Red Umbrella
Today was a good day to find True Love, and so I set out to gaze at every person I encountered, hoping to find a special connection. For hours, wandering the streets of Northampton, (I was there to buy a birthday cake for Jack) I saw nothing of interest- the same sorts of people I always see, middle-aged parents, young ne'er-do-wells, the elderly, silly college girls. I spent hours wondering, what would I do when I saw my true love- how would I recognize him or her? Would music play? Would s/he glow? Would we make eye contact and be transported to some field of flowers?
But none of this happened. My errands completed, I returned to the bus stop, where I sat and mused on just what to do should I see my true love. Then I got distracted by my Hebrew-English dictionary, which of course always lives in my purse. As I flipped through it, Katie suddenly said "What if it's her?" I looked up. Standing at the mailbox, scant yards from me, She slipped a letter into the box. Well, she fumbled a bit with it, making a face when she finally got the mailbox to work. She was dressed in a long black coat, and, as I watched her, something in me paused. I wasn't sure what. She stepped back from the mailbox. She turned. Swinging by her side, a bright red umbrella. Bright red like the bag I carry. We matched almost, black coats, red accessories. She walked down the street. I followed her with my eyes to the antique store, a store whose hours are "by chance," according to the sign on the door. She went in. I wondered if I had enough time to jump up, run after her, ask her name, her age, anything. She came out of the antique store. She headed to the corner, pressed the button for the pedestrian crossing light. The light changed. She disappeared, red umbrella swinging at her side. I stared down the street until my bus came, my failure sinking in. I boarded the bus. I watched the fog embrace the mountains as I rode home. Once there, I stared out the window until Jack decided it was time to eat cake and watch Rammstein music videos. But the girl with the red umbrella haunted me. Around 11:30, Katie and I headed for Debi's birthday party at Mod 65, where I failed to find any sort of true love, although Megen and I had fun discussing uses for the lounge on the hall we plan to share next year, and I gave Noah my Heartstring and tried to trap Scottie under some fake mistletoe. When we'd had enough of Jello shots and awkward dancing, we I left that mod for the kosher mod, and I eventually walked back to my dorm in the rain, alone, thinking about a red umbrella and a girl who makes cute faces, and how we could have held hands and how she'd giggle when I said something funny. How we'd be extra-delicate about avoiding puddles, and then jump into a really big one just before we reached my door, just for the satisfaction of peeling sopping wet pants off before climbing into a warm bed.
But none of this happened. My errands completed, I returned to the bus stop, where I sat and mused on just what to do should I see my true love. Then I got distracted by my Hebrew-English dictionary, which of course always lives in my purse. As I flipped through it, Katie suddenly said "What if it's her?" I looked up. Standing at the mailbox, scant yards from me, She slipped a letter into the box. Well, she fumbled a bit with it, making a face when she finally got the mailbox to work. She was dressed in a long black coat, and, as I watched her, something in me paused. I wasn't sure what. She stepped back from the mailbox. She turned. Swinging by her side, a bright red umbrella. Bright red like the bag I carry. We matched almost, black coats, red accessories. She walked down the street. I followed her with my eyes to the antique store, a store whose hours are "by chance," according to the sign on the door. She went in. I wondered if I had enough time to jump up, run after her, ask her name, her age, anything. She came out of the antique store. She headed to the corner, pressed the button for the pedestrian crossing light. The light changed. She disappeared, red umbrella swinging at her side. I stared down the street until my bus came, my failure sinking in. I boarded the bus. I watched the fog embrace the mountains as I rode home. Once there, I stared out the window until Jack decided it was time to eat cake and watch Rammstein music videos. But the girl with the red umbrella haunted me. Around 11:30, Katie and I headed for Debi's birthday party at Mod 65, where I failed to find any sort of true love, although Megen and I had fun discussing uses for the lounge on the hall we plan to share next year, and I gave Noah my Heartstring and tried to trap Scottie under some fake mistletoe. When we'd had enough of Jello shots and awkward dancing, we I left that mod for the kosher mod, and I eventually walked back to my dorm in the rain, alone, thinking about a red umbrella and a girl who makes cute faces, and how we could have held hands and how she'd giggle when I said something funny. How we'd be extra-delicate about avoiding puddles, and then jump into a really big one just before we reached my door, just for the satisfaction of peeling sopping wet pants off before climbing into a warm bed.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
INSOMNIA
I just spent like 10 minutes brushing my teeth just because I don't want to be asleep yet. Fortunately, Emily is making my night better by finally having pictures from Debi's amazing Turkish party. I share because I care:
Wednesday, December 06, 2006
Dinner and Silly Hats!
So I went to an awesome dinner at the kosher mod on Saturday, and then Debi dragged a bunch of us to an awesome silly hats party afterwards, and then I didn't sleep for a really long time (which is entirely Alex's fault) and then I went shopping with Noah and Sarah and Katie and then we went to Debi's house and played dreidel and I won big ($1.64) and we watched the Frisco Kid (funny funny movie) and I got home at like 1:30 (damn you Debi and your tendency to make people stay at your apartment until all hours of the night) and I slept and slept and slept and woke up and met with Rachel about my paper (a few minutes late cause I overslept but it was Debi's fault) and thought about homework but got distracted by fixing my Turkish costume and I went to Spanish and I went to the Bridge and I went to my Yiddish movie and then I ran into Alex and we went over to the kosher mod to eat the quiche that Noah made and pick up Alex's bike and I gave Alex some Bonine because I just happened to have it and he needed it and then I honestly thought about homework but I didn't quite get to it. This morning I woke up at 8:30 because Alex and I decided to have a breakfast date so he could go to the doctor, and it snowed! We got happy at the snow (he less excited than me because he's from Minnesota and snow is not quite as special) and ended up eating breakfast for like 2 hours because then Katie showed up and then Jack and we only left because they had class and then Alex and I hung out for a while (did not do homework) until he had to go to the doctor and then I revised one paper before lunch and then we ate lunch and then Alex and I somehow made 3 hours disappear and have no idea how but it was time for me to go to the ERP lab and Erik hooked me up to a machine with electrodes and I did a fancy test of some sort or another and he read my brain waves and I made $10 and it was fun. Came back and talked to Katie and then Alex wanted dinner so we got dinner and then we decided it was really and truly time to do homework, and since we obviously get nothing done in my room, we went to the bridge, where we discovered free nachos and milkshakes. So we ate and drank and did very little homework (I got like 2 paragraphs of Spanish written in 3 hours, Alex got like 1 paragraph of English, I'm not sure how much Katie accomplished) and then it was time to get the chili going because Alex and I are making chili for my Spanish class tomorrow (it being the last class and thus fiesta) and then I went to Katie's room and Alex went somewhere else and somehow I accomplished in half an hour sans Alex exactly as much as I accomplished in 3 hours with Alex, which does not bode well for either of us learning much Spanish (we have Jan Term and Spring Spanish together). So I stole Sarah's exciting pictures to share and I need some sleep now.
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
Welcome To Hampshire Post-Thanksgiving!
My friends, it is final paper season at Hampshire College. For those of you who think a school lacking both tests and grades must be a rather pleasant place to be toward the end of the semester, you are all kinds of wrong. I present you these lovely pictures of Jack and Katie working on the myriad final projects and papers that must be completed, and evidence of my own work. 
In this picture, you will notice a very long color-coded list of notes on my wall. This is how I research things. Ideally, my wall would be a white board, and I could cover it with the various things I find in books and draw arrows and underline things and feel important. Instead, I make lists and try to pretend it’s enough. That list is for my WWWII paper, which is about Germans.
This picture shows an awful lot of books. These are the books I currently have out from the library, and I will give you a complete list, so that you may understand my life.
Left pile:
Ethnic Drag
A Traveler Disguised
Adventures in Yiddishland
Queer Jews
Between Men: English Literature and Male Homosocial Desire
Eros and Jews
The Collected Stories of Isaac Bashevis Singer
Queer Theory and the Jewish Question
Unheroic Conduct
People of the Body
Novel Gazing: Queer Readings in Fiction
(pile of papers is an article called Queer Yiddishkeit: Theory and Practice)
Another copy of the Collected Stories of Isaac Bashevis Singer because I got confused once
The paper at the bottom is my Yiddish syllabus
Right pile:
Hitler’s War and the Germans
Tagebuchblaetter (Diary pages)
Ich glaube an den Fuehrer (I believe in the Fuehrer)
My planner
Copies of the Dybbuk and God of Vengeance
Shiksa: the Gentile Woman in the Jewish World
Books and Bombs in Buenos Aires: Borges, Gerchenouff and Argentine-Jewish Writing
The Jewish Gauchos of the Pampas
Outwitting History
The Intelligent Woman’s Guide to Socialism and Capitalism
Notebooks from 2 classes
A really giant pile of things I either have read for Yiddish or need to read for Yiddish because the general homework doesn’t stop in the midst of writing a paper
Also I guess there’s a copy or two of the Omen cause they got mixed up in there
Sure, I love my life. I’m 5 pages into my 15 page Yiddish paper, and have used exactly 1/3 of the notes I took from all my research, so I’m confident, if I can only find the time to finish the paper (and the mental stability). My WWWII paper is at 7 pages and needs to be 10, so there’s some editing to do there, but not until after Thursday (when the draft of the Yiddish paper is due). I will get through because I actually have way less work than most people (due to very good planning on my part) but giant piles of books scare and excite me.
In this picture, you will notice a very long color-coded list of notes on my wall. This is how I research things. Ideally, my wall would be a white board, and I could cover it with the various things I find in books and draw arrows and underline things and feel important. Instead, I make lists and try to pretend it’s enough. That list is for my WWWII paper, which is about Germans.
This picture shows an awful lot of books. These are the books I currently have out from the library, and I will give you a complete list, so that you may understand my life.
Left pile:
Ethnic Drag
A Traveler Disguised
Adventures in Yiddishland
Queer Jews
Between Men: English Literature and Male Homosocial Desire
Eros and Jews
The Collected Stories of Isaac Bashevis Singer
Queer Theory and the Jewish Question
Unheroic Conduct
People of the Body
Novel Gazing: Queer Readings in Fiction
(pile of papers is an article called Queer Yiddishkeit: Theory and Practice)
Another copy of the Collected Stories of Isaac Bashevis Singer because I got confused once
The paper at the bottom is my Yiddish syllabus
Right pile:
Hitler’s War and the Germans
Tagebuchblaetter (Diary pages)
Ich glaube an den Fuehrer (I believe in the Fuehrer)
My planner
Copies of the Dybbuk and God of Vengeance
Shiksa: the Gentile Woman in the Jewish World
Books and Bombs in Buenos Aires: Borges, Gerchenouff and Argentine-Jewish Writing
The Jewish Gauchos of the Pampas
Outwitting History
The Intelligent Woman’s Guide to Socialism and Capitalism
Notebooks from 2 classes
A really giant pile of things I either have read for Yiddish or need to read for Yiddish because the general homework doesn’t stop in the midst of writing a paper
Also I guess there’s a copy or two of the Omen cause they got mixed up in there
Sure, I love my life. I’m 5 pages into my 15 page Yiddish paper, and have used exactly 1/3 of the notes I took from all my research, so I’m confident, if I can only find the time to finish the paper (and the mental stability). My WWWII paper is at 7 pages and needs to be 10, so there’s some editing to do there, but not until after Thursday (when the draft of the Yiddish paper is due). I will get through because I actually have way less work than most people (due to very good planning on my part) but giant piles of books scare and excite me.
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