I woke up this morning and I had six papers due Tuesday. It was all right, I had a plan. I had two papers done already, I had outlines for two more on my laptop, I had scheduled out when, how, where I would get all my other homework and testing (yes I also have a test Friday) done. I got up, I went to work, I got that much closer to finishing a paper. And then I went to class and now I have seven papers due Tuesday. Don't you just have to love the humanities?
So between my party weekend--who knew turning 23 was so eventful--last week and the academic craziness this week, I have very little to say. That is unless you want a treatise on: painterly vs. linear lighting in Franco Zeffirelli's Hamlet; whether nudity is art or pornography in Shakespearen contexts; whose conceptualization of masculinity in Hamlet best fits Renaissance gender ideals; moral proximity in relation to A Midsummer Night's Dream; something Art Historyish connecting Michelangelo's David, Vermere's Allegory of Painting, and Van Gogh's Starry Night; Michael Freid's lecture at BYU; or something we have talked about in my religion class. If you are keep me posted and I'll be happy to oblige. Actually that's a lie, I can't post anything related to my Shakespeare midterm until after Tuesday.
Happy Midterm Season!
Thursday, November 13, 2008
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
I'm an Aunty
Serious props to my sisters for having perfectly corresponding families (I really want to say symmetrical, but it's really more the opposite of that. What's the word for that?). It makes it easier to remember how many nieces and nephews I have.
Something There
There's something sweet
And almost kind
But it was mean and it was coarse and unrefined
And now it's dear,
I'm so unsure,
I wonder why I didn't see it there before.
New and a bit alarming.
Who'd have ever thought that this could be?
True that there's no Prince Charming,
But there's something in it that I simply didn't see.
Granted, these lyrics are altered to suit my purposes, but they seem to aptly describe the phenomenon. The second grade, or about 1992 for those of you who don't judge your time according to my schooling, was a year that brought a lot of changes into my life. We moved to Fairfax, VA, I got to start walking to school (which was kind of cool at first), and the first time I had two teachers at school--they were experimenting new teaching methods on us. Also I made applesauce, hatched chicks, and kept crickets. But one of the most lasting changes from that year is that since that time I have been unable to eat vegetable pizza, jelly beans, and pumpkin pie. The vegetable pizza I can pin down to a specific, unfortunate, event that I was actually able to overcome some years ago. I still can't stand jelly beans, and to be honest I don't miss them at all. The pumpkin pie has caused me problems over the years, however. For one, my family, is a multiple pie family at Thanksgiving--the two most popular are banana cream and pumpkin. Since I don't like the latter, it is generally my philosophy that those who like both (pretty much everyone else in my family) should polish it off before they break into my favorite kind. But I'm seldom so lucky. Then last year I was genuinely concerned about offending whatever family I ended up spending Thanksgiving with by not eating their pumpkin pie. In fact, my companion, who was not even American was completely shocked that I didn't like this traditional holiday favorite. The puzzling thing for me has always been that I quite like other pumpkin desserts: pumpkin bread, pumpkin bars, and pumpkin cookies. But recently I've had several experiences with pumpkin pie that have begun to convert me. I'm still not entirely sure, but looks like I may be eating something this November 27 that I haven't done for 16 years.
And almost kind
But it was mean and it was coarse and unrefined
And now it's dear,
I'm so unsure,
I wonder why I didn't see it there before.
New and a bit alarming.
Who'd have ever thought that this could be?
True that there's no Prince Charming,
But there's something in it that I simply didn't see.
Granted, these lyrics are altered to suit my purposes, but they seem to aptly describe the phenomenon. The second grade, or about 1992 for those of you who don't judge your time according to my schooling, was a year that brought a lot of changes into my life. We moved to Fairfax, VA, I got to start walking to school (which was kind of cool at first), and the first time I had two teachers at school--they were experimenting new teaching methods on us. Also I made applesauce, hatched chicks, and kept crickets. But one of the most lasting changes from that year is that since that time I have been unable to eat vegetable pizza, jelly beans, and pumpkin pie. The vegetable pizza I can pin down to a specific, unfortunate, event that I was actually able to overcome some years ago. I still can't stand jelly beans, and to be honest I don't miss them at all. The pumpkin pie has caused me problems over the years, however. For one, my family, is a multiple pie family at Thanksgiving--the two most popular are banana cream and pumpkin. Since I don't like the latter, it is generally my philosophy that those who like both (pretty much everyone else in my family) should polish it off before they break into my favorite kind. But I'm seldom so lucky. Then last year I was genuinely concerned about offending whatever family I ended up spending Thanksgiving with by not eating their pumpkin pie. In fact, my companion, who was not even American was completely shocked that I didn't like this traditional holiday favorite. The puzzling thing for me has always been that I quite like other pumpkin desserts: pumpkin bread, pumpkin bars, and pumpkin cookies. But recently I've had several experiences with pumpkin pie that have begun to convert me. I'm still not entirely sure, but looks like I may be eating something this November 27 that I haven't done for 16 years.
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