morningcrafter

After a tumultuous day (9:30 Latin and work until my 6PM radio show) I rushed to the library to print off over 50 pages of reading for two of my classes. Despite the fact that we have purchased text books, every class seems to think it necessary to drain our printing accounts. But that’s fine. In another of my classes, the assigned text, Paul De Man’s Blindness and Insight, is out of print. Despite being privy to this knowledge, the professor chose to leave the assigned reading days at the beginning of the semester, hardly giving us time to acquire the text. I had other things on my mind (i.e. my grandfather’s death) and therefore didn’t order the book as quickly as I should have (that day).

Upon realizing that I wouldn’t have my book in time and that a reading journal was due tomorrow on this text, I facebook messaged everyone in the class and finally got a kind soul to lend it to me. I was, however, the third person to ask her to borrow it, so I was forced to negotiate a time with a stranger to pick up the book. He decided that he would be finished with the reading at 11:30PM sharp and that I could not be early or late picking it up.

So I sit down and read 35 pages of Balzac’s “Adieu” with which I’m at the same time infatuated, horrified, and giddy to read from a feminist perspective. I finish that promptly at 11:20 and begin wrapping up to brave the elements. It is currently 16 degrees in KV (2 degrees with wind chill) and I didn’t think driving on these questionable roads would be wise, but that walking should be fine. This was silly. I began walking somewhat aimlessly to this stranger’s house to pick up this elusive book, wearing mittens and a scarf wrapped around my face, headphones as earmuffs, and trying to feel confident about my academic dedication. I arrive at the house and the book is shoved in my face accompanied by “Enjoy this psychotic reading,” promptly followed by a door slam.

I start walking back and the wind is now blowing in my face. My face reacts by crying uncontrollably. As I walk further I become acutely aware of the fact that I had forgotten to put tights on under my jeans. I couldn’t help but invoke the images from Balzac of the dedicated French braving the Russian snow in the name of their country. No, I wasn’t eating my own horse or making a raft and watching my countrymen die, but it was fucking cold! Nevertheless, I made it home where I enlisted kitty’s help thawing my thighs.

THE END & GOODNIGHT

That’s what I’m running on. Steeeeeeeeeeam. Run, running all the time.

Honestly I haven’t slept like a real person in literal months. Last night I fell asleep at 6:30PM and woke up at 12:30AM. My last class gets out at 6 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which cuts sharply into my nap time. This nap was actually like a full night’s rest, so I stayed up until 6:45AM doing a wretched Latin translation and staring at the wall. The wall was cool, but this Latin class is going to kill me.

Which leads me to something sort of interesting:

Spring 2010 Classes

MWF

• LATN 251 – Intermediate Latin II

Straight translation, no romance. No grammar or vocab, just learning by immersion into ancient literature. My grades have gotten progressively worse each semester (LATN 150 – A, LATN 151 – B, LATN 250 – C) and I really can’t afford for that progression to continue. Cupid and Psyche is a great story and I enjoy the content, but expecting us to learn new concepts within a dead language by simply throwing archaic texts at us seems a little unrealistic. Others have survived it and I will too, but not without great difficulty.

TTh

• ENG 398 – Contemporary Literary Criticism

Already promising, the first class consisted of an overview and a  titillating lecture. I feel a new professor crush coming on. His references and word choice were spot-on. We’ll be reading out of an anthology (not my fave) but it seems like everything we read will be pertinent and interesting. Although he’s the third professor to essentially discourage me from becoming a professor, no one can stop my ambitions.

• CLAS 363 – Women and Gender in Antiquity

This course is with my old Latin professor who I’d like to think appreciates my quirky inquisitive questions and enthusiasm, but thinks of me as a bit of an idiot. This was true in Latin, certainly. I hit a wall last semester and slowly slid down that wall for about a month. This class, however, is full of people who know nothing of Women and Gender Studies, feminism, or literary theory, which means that I have a huge edge on the rest of the class. It’s technically a classics class, but I don’t see why I wouldn’t be able to apply that knowledge here. It’s a liberal arts school, c’mon. We love interdisciplinary bullshit.

• ENG 405 – Feminist Criticism

This class is reading/writing intensive, but interesting. It’s a small class so discussions will be undoubtedly personal. Thus far we’ve all talked about our families and the one obligatory “I’m not even a feminist” girl identified herself. Should be a riot.

In summary: I’ll be reading and writing constantly. So excited!

On Saturday, January 9, I turned 21.

The event had been hyped in my mind for years as the last great milestone of my life, and many of my friends have been rubbing their hands together in anticipation for months. Friday at midnight I walked in the Dukum and was greeted by a few friendly faces and enthusiasm. This was so ideal because they made a big deal out of it. They were obnoxious. It was overblown and silly, like I always imagined. The next night, however, was a mix of good and bad, beginning with a lovely dinner and ending in silliness at my house until 6:30 AM. I essentially waited at the bar for everyone to show up and 3-5 people did. We went to Dukum and then WrongDaddy’s, but eventually (13 shots later) deciding to ditch that. A few people came to my house to crash a non-existent party they had invented in their minds, and then upon realizing that there was no party, stuck around.

This was all silly, but I decided that I have birthday weeks not single days. The people who were still not back from Christmas break encouraged me that they would take me out Thursday evening, but I won’t be here.

My grandpa died the day after my birthday and I’ll be leaving Thursday after my last class (6 PM ugh). My dad will drive up here, pick me up, and drive me back for the funeral on Friday and I’ll return Saturday. My mother seems to be concerned that I won’t have the appropriate funeral attire, but she’s forgotten about my impeccable sense of decorum, clearly. I have just the thing, and I’ll be there and be respectful because it’s monumentally more important that I be a granddaughter to my family than a drunkard in a bar this weekend. I have the rest of my life for the latter.

A real shame that I don’t have anything positive to say anymore. I’m going to try to conjure up some positive points. Just bear with me while I get these few things off of my chest:

THE BAD

Here are some things that have been getting me down. They’re easy for me to list because I’m constantly thinking of them.

Grandpa

My grandpa has been in the hospital since the 27th of December. The fall on Christmas caused some trauma to his already filling lungs. The doctor assured us that needle aspirations were outdated and not done any longer, let him suffer and lay in the hospital for three days, then a different doctor, the one who told my  mother that she didn’t have breast cancer and that there was no reason to “ruin a perfectly good breast”, performed a needle aspiration after hours of pleading with him to come to the hospital and do the damn thing. He put it off for five hours, perhaps waiting for him to die, and then removed three pints of bloody fluid. I suppose I didn’t understand how much fluid that was until I went into his room after the procedure and saw more blood than I can view at once while standing and promptly fell into a chair. Since then he improved greatly, then declined again. He was recently moved into a nursing home, the same one where my great grandmother stayed. He will be there for an undetermined period of time.

Frozen Pipes

This is the most obvious of my problems. The pipes in my house have been frozen for the past 4 days. This means that I have to use the Kum N Go bathroom to poop, cannot shower, cannot do my dishes (I’m out of bowls now and have to stop eating Indian food), and can’t make any food item that requires water. I’ve been using a single water bottle for Regina’s water, brushing my teeth, and other necessities. Meanwhile, my maintenance man says “We’re doing everything we can” even though I know he only started working on it today, when he realized that one of the pipes actually burst, so this will be more of a project than he had anticipated.

Substance Abuse

The broken pipes have generally got me down and there are very few people back in Kirksville. The people here are at a loss for things to do so video games, movies, alcohol and other more illegal substances have been called into action. We’ve all just stayed in a bizarre stupor with nothing to wake up to besides frigid temperatures and our own dirty apartments. This leads to sadness and then more substance abuse.

People

Or better put, the lack of people. Certain people aren’t worth hanging around. This a lesson learned and relearned and relearned and relearned.

Poverty

I’m fucking poor. So I can’t buy food I want to eat or the booze I would like to drink. Simple as that.

THE GOOD

These things are a bit more difficult to conjure because I have trouble allowing them to enter into my mind when I’m upset about the things mentioned above. I’m trying my best to focus on these for the rest of break.

Skins

I finished seasons 1-3 of Skins over break and it was a fine idea. I might even say it was worth breaking my anti-TV stance. The episodes are beautiful and ridiculous with way more action happening in 45 minutes than will happen to me in 45 years. These 15-18 year old kids are running around on drugs I’ve never heard of, fucking their friends and (almost) their sisters, surviving injuries, ruining each other’s lives, and generally causing mayhem. Meanwhile, the parents lead surprisingly active personal lives themselves, all seeming to be wealthy and blessed with lots of free time. I have yet to decide if watching merely gives me an excuse to behave poorly when I say to myself, “God, this is so tame, they would totally do this on Skins, and they’re in high school!” or makes me feel guilty for my bad deeds, like, “This isn’t Skins. You can’t run around doing crazy shit and expect everyone to like you in the end. You’re gonna end up like Katie, and you don’t even have a twin to take your exams!” I guess I have until the fourth season to decide that.

My Upcoming Birthday

My 21st birthday is Saturday. I was excited and have been for about five years, so I really don’t know what to feel now that it’s so near. I feel a combination of things, but above all, I’m afraid I’ll die. I get a bit out of hand, and sitting at a bar with free drinks being thrown my way, I just don’t what I’ll do. Friends: please watch out for me. My dearest friend Cathy is planning my birthday for me and if you’re a friend of mine you’ve already been invited, I’m sure.

Spring Semester

Given that I survive my birthday, I have the cherriest of spring semester schedules:

• Contemporary Lit Crit
• Feminist Criticism
• Women and Gender in Antiquity
• Intermediate Latin II
• Library Studies
• Intro to Computer Science

That shit will be awesome and it will finish up my major and minor requirements, leaving only two LSPs and my senior seminar to complete within the next two semesters.

Christmas Gifts

They were awesome. I described them earlier.

Cats

They are still awesome. I have photo evidence. I will post it at a later date when my internet allows such things.

Things were bittersweet, per usual.

I awoke to a cute stocking full of socks. Now, many people might be upset about this, but my mother knows EXACTLY what I like (most of the time) and got me a lot of socks. Here’s a rundown of my stocking:

• 7 pairs of Betsey Johnson socks
• 2 pairs of Betsey tights
• a pair of fucking sweet gloves
• black and white tweedish knee-highs
• Burberry style knee-highs
• An owl pouch

She’s a doll. Additionally, I got

• a Betsey Johnson pea coat (trend, anyone?)
• the pair of beautiful Doc Marten boots I’d been lusting after
• a Nikon S570 from my father
• a  clear umbrella with red trim from UO
• the McSweeney’s “Going Out” Recession Bundle

We ordinarily have my grandparents and uncle over for Christmas morning where we open our gifts and eat my mom’s breakfast casserole, then travel over to Grandma’s for lunch and presents there, but due to the weather and my grandpa’s health, we just had our little three person Christmas here. That was fine and lovely, but then we drove to Grandma’s with casserole, and started getting things ready.

If you want to get sad and/or bored, read this spiel about my grandfather:

My grandpa has grown quite fragile in his old age and has macular degeneration. He sits close enough to the TV that his knees touch the entertainment center and he falls asleep in that chair everyday. I bought him a nice ergonomic cane with the discount I had at the pharmacy for which I briefly worked. Today as we were getting ready to say the prayer, my dad asked if we could wait for grandpa who hadn’t made it to the table. My grandma, who is quite tired of caring for her husband, said “Is he asleep?” and rolled her eyes. I turned to see how he was doing and he was making his way to the kitchen so I turned back to say “He’s coming, okay?” when I heard a crash and saw that he had fallen into the other chair in the living room. This was all like a scene from a poorly scripted movie as my mother yelped “Daddy?!” and everyone rushed into help him. I just stood there and shuffled my feet, not wanting to get in the way, but not wanting to appear apathetic. He came to the table after assuring us that he was fine (and he was,  just a nasty bruise on his side). He and everyone at the table was shaky and uncomfortable and everyone’s voice quivered except for my grandma’s. She was just pissed off that he had caused a scene. She gave him a pitied look and asked him if he had stood up for a minute before walking like the doctor had suggested. Of course he had not, so she essentially blamed him for his own fall.

After this we opened gifts. My uncle got me a hat box full of food I hate, tea I may like, and regifted Starbucks and HyVee gift cards. Additionally he got me an old yogurt maker from the 60’s: possibly the sorriest excuse for a gift I’ve received. It smelled like an antique mall and had the word “KITCHEN” written in big red marker on the top. My grandma got me some loose Earl Grey, two flashlights and a trash bag “in case you get stranded in the snow. You’ll die if you don’t have that trash bag,” and an iPod Nano.

For those of you who know me well, you know why this insults me. I’m fiercely anti-iPod and if my family knew me or ever listened to anything I said they would know this too. When I sent my mom my wishlist I emphasized the fact that I only wanted the Iriver P7 and no other PMPs. When my mom and grandma got to Best Buy, however, that didn’t matter because the salesman assured them that what I wanted was a bad mp3  player that I wouldn’t know how to use. Because I’m an idiot and don’t know what I want or how to use an electronic device. They believed him even though I had told my mom repeatedly that I didn’t like the way iPods required proprietary cords and software, that I hated iTunes, that I didn’t agree with the way everyone catered to them and made cases for their products and none of the other better players.

I felt ill when I opened the iPod and immediately felt like a shitty granddaughter. Any decent, less picky person would be happy to have a 16gb Nano. It’s probably a great player. I might even like it if I gave it a try. But I have all of these silly pre-disposed ideas of what I will and won’t buy into, Mac products being in the “won’t” category. Unlike previous big gifts I’ve received, I looked at the iPod, mustered up the most sincere “Thanks, Grandma!” I could, and put it back in the bag. I didn’t open it and immediately try it out like usual. I didn’t stop everything to show the family how cool the new device I received was. I just carefully put it back in the bag with its gift receipt, knowing that the next day I would have to drive through the snow and ice to Springfield in order to return it for a Sony Walkman with the same specs, which still would not be what I had my heart set on all fucking season.

I’m a baby. What can I say? It really isn’t surprising, considering the 32 year age gap between me and the second youngest member of my family. I’m an only child, niece, and grand-child. Destined to be bossy, selfish, and ill-adjusted. Still, I’m ashamed of my behavior. Maybe I shouldn’t be, considering what a royal bitch my grandma can often be.

Quote of the evening:

“I have trouble getting rid of old things. Look at this blue willow china. And this dining set. And your grandpa.”

. . . Let’s hope for a happier Easter.

I’m not into the whole “This is what my life is like [insert overtly personal and possibly offensive details here]” blog posts, so I’m not going to write one. But I certainly could.

Fuckers is crazee.

In other news, I’m making the most baller playlist for my Christmas show tomorrow. You must listen. Tuesday 6-8 PM. Next semester I’ll have the same show but unfortunately without the lovely Cathy Hayward on Mondays, same time. Here are some key tracks from my playlist:

The Long Blondes – Christmas Is Canceled

This is a great track and it rhymes ridiculous and Christmas. That’s perfect.

The Knife – Christmas Reindeer

The Knife made a Christmas song?! Yes. And it’s seven minutes long. A little repetitive, but that voice could sing me any old bullshit and I’d love it.

Jill Sobule – Merry Christmas from the Family

The family to which she refers is an alcoholic but cheerful crew. The chorus (I guess that’s what that is) discusses a trip to the store for tampons, cigarettes, and booze. I like.

Zooey Deschanel and Leon Redbone – Baby It’s Cold Outside

An old favorite of mine, this song makes me all giddy about the holidays. I don’t know why the blatantly creepy implication of the sultry older Leon Redbone taking advantage of a resistant and good natured Zooey Deschanel cheers me so, but it does. I bet it’s the bangs.

Ludacris – Ludacrismas

Last but certainfuckingly not least is Ludacris’s Christmas track. I know it’s technically not a female artist but the sample features a woman and he mentions jingle bell rock . . . that is totally applicable.

Enjoy, and listen to our show for a secret track. It may or may not be Lady Gaga related.

(SPOILER ALERT: LADY GAGA CHRISTMAS TRACK.)

I haven’t blogged in awhile and for that I am not sorry.

A week ago I was in the SUB trying to find the best outlet for my laptop. I picked the wrong one, tried to plug it in and it slid off of the table and crashed into a chair, shattering the LCD screen (model #LP154WX5-TLA1).

Clearly I was devastated, but my hard drive was in tact, so I couldn’t cry too hard. If I had chosen to get it fixed by a professional it would have been around $300, which would never happen. If I had purchased the screen itself from Sony, it would have been $229. BUT, I realized after some research that it was just an LG screen commonly used in Dells and IBMs and that it wasn’t necessary to buy it from Sony. And because this part didn’t hold the Sony prestige I thought it did, I could get it off of ebay for $90, shipping included.

The screen arrived and I installed it all by myself using my incredible skillz. It works perfectly after a quick trip to Ace Hardware where I kind man sold me a precision screw driver. Beautiful.

I’ve been ridiculous and into chemicals for the past few weeks and tonight is no different. Except it is because I’m learning to knit from my magistra (the Socrates to my Plato) @kaileyburger who blogs here.

We’ve both decided that this has been the best night of our lives, but you already know that if you follow us on twitter.

Regina Brief:

Still cute.

Still in <3.