tomahawks

Well, that was very magical, indeed. I was typing along, a paragraph or two into what was going to be this post, when I apparently swept my thumb across the mousepad of this laptop, highlighted everything, and deleted it. All at once. All before my eyes, but if I had've blinked, I would've missed it.

I was just saying how I've begun the write-the-paper-the-day-it-is-due routine. I have a 750-word first draft of a personal narrative due today. That's not such a big deal. But tonight (or when I get finished with my narrative), I have to write my first draft of the BarbCobb paper. That is a big deal. I finally got an okay on my thesis, but it looks more like a thesis paragraph rather than a thesis statement. I'm not even sure I remember what my original intent was.

There's nothing quite so exciting as talk of a book club. And there has been talk. And the first title is 1984, which I've not read and would like to. But when? When on earth will I be able to do it? I can barely get through what I've got as it is. This is a sad situation, ladies.

Okay, so I'm not really sure how, but I just found a pretty funny website. It's called Am I Right, and there is a section of misheard lyrics of songs. Of course, I went straight to John Mayer, and the first one I read had me doing that unstoppable-laugh-that-you-laugh-when-you're-not-supposed-to-be-laughing. The real lyric from "83" is "Oh make me a red cape / I wanna be Superman," but the person heard "Oh make me a rat cage / I wanna be Superman." That struck me as so hilarious--and still does as I write it. And the funny part is that it is very likely that that person thought he was saying that. You can't half understand what he's saying if you don't already know the lyrics. And so I felt it was only right to submit the two misheard John Mayer lyrics that came to mind.

I honestly thought this is what he said:
"Now we're tired by the fire" for "Now we're tired, battered fighters" - "Split-Screen Sadness"

And there is nothing quite like Lesli's:
"Your footsteps are tomahawks" for "Your footsteps are down the hall" - "Come Back to Bed"

Lesli's need to go ahead and make up the lyrics she doesn't know reminded me of the "Miss Independent" situation where she said "No longer need to be the misses" for "No longer need to be defensive." So I went to see if that lyric had been misheard, and indeed, it had. The best one that made me laugh as much as the rat cage was "No longer need to be the biscuit."

Sorry, sorry. I will quit boring you with all this. I'm just trying to avoid working on my narrative.

real quick here

I've just a few minutes before -- No, I lie. I don't have a few minutes of anything. I have class at 5:00. Tessa wants to go by the coffee shop beforehand, so that means we're leaving at 4:30. And it's 4:00ish now. And I still have to look over and sort out some stuff for class. What on earth am I doing?

I guess I just wanted to say that today has been better than yesterday. And yesterday didn't end up so bad.

Last night before I went to bed, I made that thing that you might have seen if you checked my blog anywhere between 11:45 last night and, I don't know, 10:00 this morning. I tried to be all creative with the quote that's on Into the Wardrobe again. It didn't work out so good. But I really like the quote. It's from The Screwtape Letters. Mind you, this is a senior demon that advises his nephew on the tricks of the winning-souls-for-satan trade talking here. "Our Enemy" is God.

"Be not deceived, Wormwood, our case is never more in jeopardy than when a human, no longer desiring but still intending to do Our Enemy's will, looks round upon a universe where every trace of Him seems to have vanished, and asks why he has been forsaken, and still obeys."

Screwtape, The Screwtape Letters, C. S. Lewis

petty grievances

So much for that continuance of lovely weather that I'd hoped for. But it's okay. I have a place in my heart for gloomy, misty days like this, too.

Today hasn't been my favorite day in all my life. Philosophy was okay, but I realized that my discussion board post pretty much completely missed Plato's point. In advanced comp, I came to the conclusion that I can't write a thesis. But at least BarbCobb pushed back the due date for the first draft to Friday. Women's lit sometimes gets on my nerves--just because it can. And the Spanish quiz probably won't be the most successful thing I've ever done. Way to go, Super Homework Queen. You done real good this time.

Oh, and let's talk about the forty million people who flooded the Curris Center today. Ten thousand other students have to eat lunch too. And at least one of them has to do it, study, and be back in class in an hour. That means you and your little name-tags need to quit thinking you're cool because you're eating college food and get out of my way.

Sorry, I'm just a little disgruntled today. Don't worry. It'll pass.

Maybe tomorrow will be better. But let's look at it this way: Today's not over with yet. It still has time to redeem itself. And it's possible that I'm the one needing the redeeming, huh?

who knew it was super bowl sunday?

I have been Super Homework Queen this weekend. (That's right. Not just a royal ruler, but a royal ruler will hero powers.) And the sad part is that I'm still not done. But that's okay. This sense of accomplishment drives me on. I only have to study for a Spanish quiz and email BarbCobb a revised thesis for my paper. The Spanish is no big deal. I just don't know how I feel about nailing down a thesis prior to even writing the paper. But here's to decision making, right? Surely it'll help.

Most of this homework I've done, I had to do somewhere else because the internet and all those stinkin' name-that-tune challenge you Xanga kids are throwing at me keeps me from accomplishing much. Really. Earlier today, I sat down to look at SparkNotes to see if the section of Republic I planned to read pertained to the question I needed to answer. Note that I didn't have any intention of copping out and just reading the SparkNotes. Anyway, I thought, Before I do that, lemme check those survey things out first because, hey, that's more fun. Ooh, look. Something shiny. A brand new list of twenty-five songs from Holly... Fifteen minutes later, I'd completely forgotten about looking at the SparkNotes and was still confused about what I was supposed to read for philosophy.

So I had to get out of here. Yesterday and today, I went to Starbucks to do my reading. That means I've spent something like five hours and too much money on Venti Caramel Macchiatos in that place. By the way, I was a big girl yesterday and could hold my Venti, aside from the fact I was soon unable to focus on the words on the page of the book I was reading. But today, I barely made it. I'll save my money for special occasions. But anyway, I've come to really love that place. No wonder most of the civilized United States is obsessed with it.

What will they drag out next to scare off the birds? Canons? For the past couple weeks, the scene around this neck of Murray's woods has looked like a scene from a Hitchcock film. And from the sound of it, various groups of people--or maybe it's the same group--have attempted to rid the place of the birds, but it hasn't worked. I'm not so sure what's so special about the six or eight trees behind this corner of Brentwood, but at least once a day there are probably five thousand of them hanging out on the limbs and screaming like crazy. The gunfire, the fireworks, and the bombs, some of which I think are stink bombs, have not done the trick. Now it sounds like someone's trying out his pellet gun. Good luck with that, sonny.

On a much more lovely note, hasn't this weather been awesome? With all the recuperating (AKA sleeping) I've been doing, I haven't been out enjoying it much, but now I feel much better. I hope it hangs around a bit this week.

my buddy rob

Rob just called. It's his 22nd birthday, and he's having a moving-in party at his new apartment in Newburgh. He asked me to come, but obviously, I can't. I'm down here in Murray. As I could tell, he was drunk. But he promised me that he wasn't getting out. He's just going to sit there and watch his big-screen television, which made me feel better, of course. Then he wanted me to come to his Super Bowl party tomorrow night. I guess he was pretty darn drunk because he forgot that I'm at school again, but when I reminded him, he wanted me to tell Lyle hi. Of course, I don't know Lyle. I don't even know Rob. He had the wrong number.