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Saturday, September 13, 2003
Sometimes you need a little more Gordon.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:00 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 1:00 AM | shower me with attention
Friday, September 12, 2003
Today was a great day because we went to see Conan's 10th anniversary special at the Beacon Theatre and it was so funny that I believe I laughed my ass off. It was, yes, that's right: no-assed funny.
I guess I haven't been watching my Conan lately because, my god, he looks SCARY skinny now. But at the same time, well-muscled. In fact, kinda hot... but not that hot. I still think he's scary in person. So tall... such a big head...
Is it a coincidence that I spent the rest of the night talking about Big Bird? Because I did.
Anyway, I'm still bummed about John Ritter.
Yeah... I need to start blogging when I'm NOT so exhausted that I could fall asleep sitting up. God, I'm tired. None of this post coheres. Big Bird, Conan, John Ritter...
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:37 PM | shower me with attention
I guess I haven't been watching my Conan lately because, my god, he looks SCARY skinny now. But at the same time, well-muscled. In fact, kinda hot... but not that hot. I still think he's scary in person. So tall... such a big head...
Is it a coincidence that I spent the rest of the night talking about Big Bird? Because I did.
Anyway, I'm still bummed about John Ritter.
Yeah... I need to start blogging when I'm NOT so exhausted that I could fall asleep sitting up. God, I'm tired. None of this post coheres. Big Bird, Conan, John Ritter...
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:37 PM | shower me with attention
Aw, hell. Hell. They took Tripper.
John Ritter was simply awesome. I hope that eventually someone will point out that, at least earlier in his career, he was one of the stand-out physical comedians of the late 20th century.
And then Johnny Cash? What the hell??
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:38 AM | shower me with attention
John Ritter was simply awesome. I hope that eventually someone will point out that, at least earlier in his career, he was one of the stand-out physical comedians of the late 20th century.
And then Johnny Cash? What the hell??
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:38 AM | shower me with attention
Thursday, September 11, 2003
Today my Latin professor, when handing back my homework, told the class that they must show me the proper respect because I am from the family of the first emperor of Rome. I said, "Yes, please do" (pay me the proper respect, that is.)
He also pronounced my name Ock-tah-wee-uh, which of course I won't tolerate from anyone except Latin teachers.
By the way, my biggest problem in learning (to a certain degree, re-learning; I took it for a year and a half, the entire duration of my high school career) Latin is going to be the fact that I have a huge gap in knowledge about English word function. It's just one of those things I haven't studied formally, at least since junior high, and can't keep straight. Like in that song from 1776,
...I can't write with any style or proper etiquette
I don't know a participle from a predicate
I am just a simple cobbler from Connecticut...
(All true except the cobbler from Connecticut part.)
The problem is delineated nicely here:
> It's not only a lack of Latin grammar that causes a problem, rather a lack of
> English grammar. I don't have any idea how this has happened, but the
> secondary schools don't seem to be providing a good grounding in the
> syntax of our own language, so the students end up doing "double learning"
> - first how the grammatical concepts work in English, then again (and right
> away) in Latin. Not the best of situations to be sure.
If anyone would care to tutor me in Latin, I'll pay you in sexual favours and/or knitted garments. (Unless my mom-- who SHOULDN'T BE READING THIS, right?-- volunteers. I hope she wouldn't want the first payment option.)
(As an aside, I finally contacted my math teacher from the summer about the fact that my grade hasn't been entered yet. He said I got an A-. Yay!)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:32 PM | shower me with attention
He also pronounced my name Ock-tah-wee-uh, which of course I won't tolerate from anyone except Latin teachers.
By the way, my biggest problem in learning (to a certain degree, re-learning; I took it for a year and a half, the entire duration of my high school career) Latin is going to be the fact that I have a huge gap in knowledge about English word function. It's just one of those things I haven't studied formally, at least since junior high, and can't keep straight. Like in that song from 1776,
...I can't write with any style or proper etiquette
I don't know a participle from a predicate
I am just a simple cobbler from Connecticut...
(All true except the cobbler from Connecticut part.)
The problem is delineated nicely here:
> It's not only a lack of Latin grammar that causes a problem, rather a lack of
> English grammar. I don't have any idea how this has happened, but the
> secondary schools don't seem to be providing a good grounding in the
> syntax of our own language, so the students end up doing "double learning"
> - first how the grammatical concepts work in English, then again (and right
> away) in Latin. Not the best of situations to be sure.
If anyone would care to tutor me in Latin, I'll pay you in sexual favours and/or knitted garments. (Unless my mom-- who SHOULDN'T BE READING THIS, right?-- volunteers. I hope she wouldn't want the first payment option.)
(As an aside, I finally contacted my math teacher from the summer about the fact that my grade hasn't been entered yet. He said I got an A-. Yay!)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:32 PM | shower me with attention
Redemption for Amazon! I emailed customer service about being charged for 2-day shipping when the item wasn't ready for shipping yet, and Customer Service Guy emailed that he's refunding the shipping charges, although the charge was due to a misunderstanding on MY part. I beg to differ on that point, but nevertheless, I'm getting the ten bucks back.
For the future: never choose 2-day shipping. Let's all repeat this together.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:45 PM | shower me with attention
For the future: never choose 2-day shipping. Let's all repeat this together.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:45 PM | shower me with attention
Okay, world: what the heck is this and how do I get a copy??
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:40 PM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:40 PM | shower me with attention
Airport is so great... I can blog from bed when I'm really sleepy but afraid to shut my eyes and find out I can't sleep...
Before I do that (and do you notice that no matter how sleepy I am, I can still type?) I'm going to try and pitch a dream to my subconscious. My subconscious is kind of like Lorne Michaels. You have to be really confident when you're pitching an idea to it. So, subconscious, here's the dream I'd like to dream tonight, I hope you like it:
Me and Roscoe Orman (Gordon from Sesame Street) and Mindy Cohn (from The Facts of Life) and Marilla-as-played-by-Collen-Dewhurst are sitting under a big parachute. The kind that you used to throw up in the air and run under when you were in preschool. It's being held up my magic dream-means, and is kind of like a big, colourful tent over the four of us. There's a gymnasium floor beneath us. We're sitting in a circle. Mindy Cohn has an acoustic guitar and she's strumming a song and Gordon is singing while me and Marilla play Gin. I keep winning and Marilla gets kind of mad and it makes the rest of us laugh, and finally Marilla laughs too. Then we're all singing, singing so beautifully, such harmony. I think, "I didn't know Natalie could sing so well, I wonder if Mrs. Garrett knows?" The song is so beautiful that I start to cry and Gordon-from-Sesame-Street puts his arm around me and suddenly the parachute starts to float up to the ceiling and we're floating with it, floating up out of the gymnasium and Mindy's still strumming and we're still singing and Gordon has his arm around me and we float away over Central Park...
This is the dream I would like to have tonight please.
Good night.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:29 AM | shower me with attention
Before I do that (and do you notice that no matter how sleepy I am, I can still type?) I'm going to try and pitch a dream to my subconscious. My subconscious is kind of like Lorne Michaels. You have to be really confident when you're pitching an idea to it. So, subconscious, here's the dream I'd like to dream tonight, I hope you like it:
Me and Roscoe Orman (Gordon from Sesame Street) and Mindy Cohn (from The Facts of Life) and Marilla-as-played-by-Collen-Dewhurst are sitting under a big parachute. The kind that you used to throw up in the air and run under when you were in preschool. It's being held up my magic dream-means, and is kind of like a big, colourful tent over the four of us. There's a gymnasium floor beneath us. We're sitting in a circle. Mindy Cohn has an acoustic guitar and she's strumming a song and Gordon is singing while me and Marilla play Gin. I keep winning and Marilla gets kind of mad and it makes the rest of us laugh, and finally Marilla laughs too. Then we're all singing, singing so beautifully, such harmony. I think, "I didn't know Natalie could sing so well, I wonder if Mrs. Garrett knows?" The song is so beautiful that I start to cry and Gordon-from-Sesame-Street puts his arm around me and suddenly the parachute starts to float up to the ceiling and we're floating with it, floating up out of the gymnasium and Mindy's still strumming and we're still singing and Gordon has his arm around me and we float away over Central Park...
This is the dream I would like to have tonight please.
Good night.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:29 AM | shower me with attention
Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Although I understand the necessity for many people of talking, reflecting and remembering, I prefer to go with my repression-therapy approach with regards to tomorrow's anniversary:
The new research is rooted in part in the experience of Sept. 11, when swarms of therapists descended on New York City after the twin towers fell. There were, by some estimates, three shrinks for every victim, which is itself an image you might want to repress, the bearded, the beatnik, the softly empathic all gathered round the survivors urging talk talk talk. ''And what happened,'' says Richard Gist, a community psychologist and trauma researcher who, along with a growing number of colleagues, has become highly critical of these debriefing procedures, ''is some people got worse. They were either unhelped or retraumatized by our interventions.'' Gist, who is an associate professor at the University of Missouri and who has been on hand to help with disasters from the collapse of the Hyatt Regency pedestrian skywalks in Kansas City, Mo., in 1981 to the United Airlines crash in Sioux City, Iowa, in 1989, has had time to develop his thoughts regarding how, or how not, to help in times of terror. ''Basically, all these therapists run down to the scene, and there's a lot of grunting and groaning and encouraging people to review what they saw, and then the survivors get worse. I've been saying for years, 'Is it any surprise that if you keep leading people to the edge of a cliff they eventually fall over?''' (from the linked article, which is available only to NYTimes.com subscribers)
I just don't care to dwell on it. Sure, I could watch news coverage, read websites, look at horrible pictures, and work myself into a good, frothy mess, but why would I want to do that to myself?
Unfortunately, I'll largely be forced to spend the day experiencing others' bruise-pressing. In fact, my Latin professor promised that we'll spend tomorrow's class reading aloud a passage about remembering the dead.
Swell.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:13 PM | shower me with attention
The new research is rooted in part in the experience of Sept. 11, when swarms of therapists descended on New York City after the twin towers fell. There were, by some estimates, three shrinks for every victim, which is itself an image you might want to repress, the bearded, the beatnik, the softly empathic all gathered round the survivors urging talk talk talk. ''And what happened,'' says Richard Gist, a community psychologist and trauma researcher who, along with a growing number of colleagues, has become highly critical of these debriefing procedures, ''is some people got worse. They were either unhelped or retraumatized by our interventions.'' Gist, who is an associate professor at the University of Missouri and who has been on hand to help with disasters from the collapse of the Hyatt Regency pedestrian skywalks in Kansas City, Mo., in 1981 to the United Airlines crash in Sioux City, Iowa, in 1989, has had time to develop his thoughts regarding how, or how not, to help in times of terror. ''Basically, all these therapists run down to the scene, and there's a lot of grunting and groaning and encouraging people to review what they saw, and then the survivors get worse. I've been saying for years, 'Is it any surprise that if you keep leading people to the edge of a cliff they eventually fall over?''' (from the linked article, which is available only to NYTimes.com subscribers)
I just don't care to dwell on it. Sure, I could watch news coverage, read websites, look at horrible pictures, and work myself into a good, frothy mess, but why would I want to do that to myself?
Unfortunately, I'll largely be forced to spend the day experiencing others' bruise-pressing. In fact, my Latin professor promised that we'll spend tomorrow's class reading aloud a passage about remembering the dead.
Swell.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:13 PM | shower me with attention
Never, ever select the "2-day shipping" option from Amazon. I've used it twice and both times it has resulted in massive delays of my order. And my being charged the ten bucks anyway.
I had better get my Latin text book soon because I can't find any of the assignments past page 5 on the web.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:16 PM | shower me with attention
I had better get my Latin text book soon because I can't find any of the assignments past page 5 on the web.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 9:16 PM | shower me with attention
So. 400 grams of worsted-weight Finnish lambswool, nice and soft. Two skeins cream, two skeins beige. What the heck am I gonna make? It's not enough for a large project, but might make a couple smaller pieces that would do well as Christmas gifts. Only no one I know wears mittens, few wear hats, and scarves are boring. So boring. Maybe patterned scarves. But still, just the idea of a scarf puts me to sleep.
Kirsten wears sleeves and legwarmers, but the neutral colours aren't funky enough for her. Oh, if only I had about 20 more skeins, they're the perfect colours for the sweater that I want to make for Andrew. Damn, it'll take a lot of yarn to cover that boy.
Maybe if I found a really pretty hat-and-mitten pattern I could tempt someone with them. (By the by, I found a great free-knitting-patterns blog.)
What I'm doing, I guess, is collecting myself a stash. That's knittese for all of those balls of yarn that you buy "just because"-- they're so pretty, they're so soft, they're on sale, you had some extra cash, your parents were in Finland-- with no project in mind...
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:24 PM | shower me with attention
Kirsten wears sleeves and legwarmers, but the neutral colours aren't funky enough for her. Oh, if only I had about 20 more skeins, they're the perfect colours for the sweater that I want to make for Andrew. Damn, it'll take a lot of yarn to cover that boy.
Maybe if I found a really pretty hat-and-mitten pattern I could tempt someone with them. (By the by, I found a great free-knitting-patterns blog.)
What I'm doing, I guess, is collecting myself a stash. That's knittese for all of those balls of yarn that you buy "just because"-- they're so pretty, they're so soft, they're on sale, you had some extra cash, your parents were in Finland-- with no project in mind...
Why are you in Tavie's head? 5:24 PM | shower me with attention
CUTE!
Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:46 PM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:46 PM | shower me with attention
Harvest moon tonight. Don't forget to look.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:35 AM | shower me with attention
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:35 AM | shower me with attention
It seems absurd that I should enjoy doing Latin homework, but I am. I think it's because he wants it handwritten and this is the first handwritten homework I've done since high school. It's like playing school when you're a kid. And there is pleasure in discovering how much Latin I remember from high school. (Meaning any at all. It isn't much. Like, a word. Maybe two. And the fact that, say, declensions exist. But I enjoy it nonetheless.)
Or maybe it's because my name is Octavia and it's so easy to pretend that I am discipula in Roma antiqua.
(I don't refer to myself by that name often, so slurp it up.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:48 AM | shower me with attention
Or maybe it's because my name is Octavia and it's so easy to pretend that I am discipula in Roma antiqua.
(I don't refer to myself by that name often, so slurp it up.)
Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:48 AM | shower me with attention
Tuesday, September 09, 2003
My parents just got back from their European cruise and my mom gave me, among many other good things, a pickle in a can from Germany. It's a very good pickle, but there is pickle juice on my keyboard now.
Today I forgot to take my Gleemonex, so it was a bit of a dizzy day. But then it was okay. I had music class and Latin class. These are both classes that remind me of my Wasted Childhood Potential.
For example, today in music I was all happy because my professor started talking about The Red Violin, which is a great movie. But then the took out her own violin and started demonstrating it for us or whatever. I was pretty tuned out the whole class, because we were just learning more music notation and I already know how to read music. But the violin depressed me.
Violins always depress me a little bit. It's because I took violin lessons from age 4 until age 9, when I finally quit because I didn't like it much. I think perhaps I had a lot less aptitude at it than I had been led to believe... after five years they still hadn't moved me up to vibrato. In fact I was just learning vibrato when I quit.
Now that I think about it, I think the main reason I took violin (and piano) those years is because Adam (Andrew's brother and my contemporary) was also forced to take lessons (as well as theory and ensemble, both of us, every Wednesday for five years at Sunset Park School of Music). I think our mothers were engaged in some sort of tacit rivalry. We did all the same recitals. We were forced to practice daily. Supposedly, Adam was "better at piano" and I was "better at violin". Because one kid always has to be "better". Yeah, it was a total rivalry thing. And then when we were 9, Adam and Andrew moved away. So I guess there was no reason to force me to take lessons anymore, so I stopped.
But for years, besides having to practice and spend hours after school every Wednesday inside while the other kids played outside, I also got to dress up in pretty dresses, and play in front of people, and have people applaud, and get roses and be taken out for ice cream and generally be made to feel very special for playing these instruments.
So now, as an adult, having basically forgotten how torturous it was to practice-actice-actice, of course I am wistful and nostalgiac and depressed whenever I remember this "wasted potential" of mine. My violin, old Sigerson (that was my "grown-up violin", named by mom; I got to name my first violin, and I chose "Lisa", imaginative child that I was), rots bridgeless and stringless (and missing a peg) in a corner. Poor old Sigerson.
This music class is turning out to be more trouble than it's worth.
But really, today was a pretty positive day so I'm feeling good.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:07 PM | shower me with attention
Today I forgot to take my Gleemonex, so it was a bit of a dizzy day. But then it was okay. I had music class and Latin class. These are both classes that remind me of my Wasted Childhood Potential.
For example, today in music I was all happy because my professor started talking about The Red Violin, which is a great movie. But then the took out her own violin and started demonstrating it for us or whatever. I was pretty tuned out the whole class, because we were just learning more music notation and I already know how to read music. But the violin depressed me.
Violins always depress me a little bit. It's because I took violin lessons from age 4 until age 9, when I finally quit because I didn't like it much. I think perhaps I had a lot less aptitude at it than I had been led to believe... after five years they still hadn't moved me up to vibrato. In fact I was just learning vibrato when I quit.
Now that I think about it, I think the main reason I took violin (and piano) those years is because Adam (Andrew's brother and my contemporary) was also forced to take lessons (as well as theory and ensemble, both of us, every Wednesday for five years at Sunset Park School of Music). I think our mothers were engaged in some sort of tacit rivalry. We did all the same recitals. We were forced to practice daily. Supposedly, Adam was "better at piano" and I was "better at violin". Because one kid always has to be "better". Yeah, it was a total rivalry thing. And then when we were 9, Adam and Andrew moved away. So I guess there was no reason to force me to take lessons anymore, so I stopped.
But for years, besides having to practice and spend hours after school every Wednesday inside while the other kids played outside, I also got to dress up in pretty dresses, and play in front of people, and have people applaud, and get roses and be taken out for ice cream and generally be made to feel very special for playing these instruments.
So now, as an adult, having basically forgotten how torturous it was to practice-actice-actice, of course I am wistful and nostalgiac and depressed whenever I remember this "wasted potential" of mine. My violin, old Sigerson (that was my "grown-up violin", named by mom; I got to name my first violin, and I chose "Lisa", imaginative child that I was), rots bridgeless and stringless (and missing a peg) in a corner. Poor old Sigerson.
This music class is turning out to be more trouble than it's worth.
But really, today was a pretty positive day so I'm feeling good.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 10:07 PM | shower me with attention
I met this guy in the textbook line last week that I've seen in a few of my anthro classes. We started talking about our classes and it turned out that he was taking Intro to Prehistoric Archaeology, which I took last semester. He asked if I had the textbook he needed, and I glanced at his syllabus, saw the name of the author of the textbook I'd used, and said, "Sure, yeah, I'll sell it to you!"
I'm supposed to meet him in half an hour to give him the book. Problem is, it turns out that I'm pretty sure it's the wrong book.
So, I have to go show up at his class and tell him that I don't have the right book to sell him after all, whoops, sorry. That's awkward.
To punish myself, I'm going to carry the wrong book to school with me to show him that it's the wrong one. I know that this is a stupid thing to do, considering I have enough heavy books to carry, but I'm doing it anyway.
The next song I'm going to write will be called "The Masochism Rock".
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:44 PM | shower me with attention
I'm supposed to meet him in half an hour to give him the book. Problem is, it turns out that I'm pretty sure it's the wrong book.
So, I have to go show up at his class and tell him that I don't have the right book to sell him after all, whoops, sorry. That's awkward.
To punish myself, I'm going to carry the wrong book to school with me to show him that it's the wrong one. I know that this is a stupid thing to do, considering I have enough heavy books to carry, but I'm doing it anyway.
The next song I'm going to write will be called "The Masochism Rock".
Why are you in Tavie's head? 4:44 PM | shower me with attention
I ended up staying up until 6 am watching Chicago with my sister on my laptop in my bed.
Effectively ruining my nice, normal, jetlag-induced sleeping pattern.
Now, did you know that on HBO at midday, they play Middle-American-Housewife TV? They do. They just went straight from My Big Fat Greek Wedding to The First Wives' Club.
If I had a life, would that mean I would have more interesting observations to share? Is that what "having a life" means-- better blogging stories?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:30 PM | shower me with attention
Effectively ruining my nice, normal, jetlag-induced sleeping pattern.
Now, did you know that on HBO at midday, they play Middle-American-Housewife TV? They do. They just went straight from My Big Fat Greek Wedding to The First Wives' Club.
If I had a life, would that mean I would have more interesting observations to share? Is that what "having a life" means-- better blogging stories?
Why are you in Tavie's head? 2:30 PM | shower me with attention
A sad thing is when your One Great Talent isn't something that you can make a living from.
I am a really, really good Kids in the Hall fan. I do it well. I'm good at it. Where's the money, honey?
Shut up, shut up. Have you read your homework yet? Do you have a goddamn motherfucking life? Are these questions related? Is it just me or am I really tired? Well we're talking about me so it is, by necessity, going to be just me. I am really tired. Go read homework. Go go go. It's a race: brain versus eyelids. Eyelids may win. They have more active cells in them than brain. Ha ha. Shut up, shut up.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:34 AM | shower me with attention
I am a really, really good Kids in the Hall fan. I do it well. I'm good at it. Where's the money, honey?
Shut up, shut up. Have you read your homework yet? Do you have a goddamn motherfucking life? Are these questions related? Is it just me or am I really tired? Well we're talking about me so it is, by necessity, going to be just me. I am really tired. Go read homework. Go go go. It's a race: brain versus eyelids. Eyelids may win. They have more active cells in them than brain. Ha ha. Shut up, shut up.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:34 AM | shower me with attention
Monday, September 08, 2003
I'm going to write a song called "The My Professor Expects Four Papers a Week and She Wants Them One Working Day Ahead of Classtime Which Means Coming In On Your Days Off And She Doesn't Accept Emailed Assignments Blues":
Fuck you school I hate you
Fuck you school I hate you
Fuck you school I hate you
Bay baaaay Yeah Yeah Yeah
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:22 PM | shower me with attention
Fuck you school I hate you
Fuck you school I hate you
Fuck you school I hate you
Bay baaaay Yeah Yeah Yeah
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:22 PM | shower me with attention
Let me tell you what's great about this Airport card: Kirsten can be on the DSL doing her thing, and I don't even need to have it plugged in. I can be on this other person's network surfin' away. Thank you, Mystery Person.
By the way, Colour as Communication is a truly evil class full of papers that I'll have to write, museums I'll have to go to, art supplies I'll have to buy, and boring lectures I'll have to listen to.
Plus I'm fat.
Thank you everybody, don't forget to tip your waitresses.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:18 PM | shower me with attention
By the way, Colour as Communication is a truly evil class full of papers that I'll have to write, museums I'll have to go to, art supplies I'll have to buy, and boring lectures I'll have to listen to.
Plus I'm fat.
Thank you everybody, don't forget to tip your waitresses.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 11:18 PM | shower me with attention
So, that thing that erin and Gina took me to this weekend was an independent comics convention. I'm not a convention type of gal, nor am I really a comics type of gal. But it turned out to be pretty fun. The fun part, really, was that we got to spend time with goils Tara (whom I've seen a few times since last year) and Nicole (whom I hadn't seen since our trip to Vegas in May of last year). That was great.
I spent most of Saturday in the hotel room drudging through Marx and Engels and writing my reaction paper. It took a lot of coffee (yeah, I give up) to get through that, but I did it. Today we got up and spent an interminable midmorning at a pancake house trying to get breakfast. Then I actually purchased a comic book with my meagre fundage. It was by this guy, James Kochalka, whose art style was vaguely familiar in a way that made me think that perhaps erin has forced me to look at it in the past. As it turns out, the book is really very good. So I guess I may be a comics type of gal after all.
I'm home now, not looking forward to school tomorrow. I hope my art class, the first of which is tomorrow, won't be terribly expensive in the supples department. I have a sneaking suspicion that it will involve lots of paint. I'm very bad with paint. I picked this class because I needed SOMETHING that fit into my schedule and because I need credits, any credits, and as many as possible. But... what on earth does "Color as Communication" even mean?
Guess I'll find out tomorrow.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:11 AM | shower me with attention
I spent most of Saturday in the hotel room drudging through Marx and Engels and writing my reaction paper. It took a lot of coffee (yeah, I give up) to get through that, but I did it. Today we got up and spent an interminable midmorning at a pancake house trying to get breakfast. Then I actually purchased a comic book with my meagre fundage. It was by this guy, James Kochalka, whose art style was vaguely familiar in a way that made me think that perhaps erin has forced me to look at it in the past. As it turns out, the book is really very good. So I guess I may be a comics type of gal after all.
I'm home now, not looking forward to school tomorrow. I hope my art class, the first of which is tomorrow, won't be terribly expensive in the supples department. I have a sneaking suspicion that it will involve lots of paint. I'm very bad with paint. I picked this class because I needed SOMETHING that fit into my schedule and because I need credits, any credits, and as many as possible. But... what on earth does "Color as Communication" even mean?
Guess I'll find out tomorrow.
Why are you in Tavie's head? 12:11 AM | shower me with attention
Sunday, September 07, 2003
