OK, so LASERS is no longer a temptation, but someone at this row of study seats smells really, really good. I want find out who it is and make them sit next to me as some sort of aromatherapy.
In other news, when did college become the new high school? This weekend has been so much drama. Just among my few close friends here (6 or 7 people) there are: fights over friends, competition over boys (spurred by the fight over friends), 'I can't be friends with you because you like some other boy more than me,' snapped tendons, grandparents going into a home, crazy-emotional family problems, an eating disorder or two, excessive drinking, debt, depression, drug abuse, leading on boyfriends/girlfriends, sex, lack of sex, roommate drama, unrequited love, and epileptic fits. (And no, most of the above do not apply to me.) And these are the nice, sane kids. I chose friends who weren't crazy for a reason!
It's not usually like this; it's just the last week or so has been outrageous. The library is a good escape, as is laughter. Nothing like saying, 'hey, you want to go where those flashing lights are and have a fit?' to an epileptic to cheer you up.
Alright, two papers for Wednesday, so I get to ignore that craziness for a few days while I live in the library and drink cartons of orange juice.
Monday 18 February 2008
Sunday 17 February 2008
N.B. Reading is hard.
It is difficult to concentrate on 19th century scientific ideology, no matter how interesting it might be, when there is a book on a shelf just nearby entitled LASERS. Powell, Wallace, and Darwin would up their appeal if they talked about lasers and explosions more and old fish bones less.
PS I'm actually enjoying the reading this week. Weird, I know. And I've resisted LASERS for now.
PS I'm actually enjoying the reading this week. Weird, I know. And I've resisted LASERS for now.
Friday 15 February 2008
Home Away from Home
A month later and I'm still not writing much. I made any number of excuses as I pushed it off, particularly utilizing the one about printing my own film. 'See, I want to write about my time in Israel, but I want to do it with the accompanying photos, and since I'm developing and printing them myself, it will just have to wait. What a shame.'
So yes, I've been doing the developing and printing and it's been really fun and rewarding. And we all know there's nothing lovelier than a girl all bleary-eyed from hours in the darkroom smelling like chemicals. When I come up with something good, I'll put it on Flickr and mention it here. It is good fun. Also, in the 'how to do this and not die' sessions (hint: don't drink the chemicals and don't light anything on fire), I made good friends with Dom/Crocodile Boy (I know way too many people named Dom here, so Croc-Boy will have to do). It's nice having company in the darkroom; it makes it harder to accidentally lock yourself out and there's someone else to blame if your prints come out wonky.
Aside from printing, my excuse as been work. Lots of it. Lots of reading and writing and skimming and scribbling and obsessive FaceBook checking and god knows how many bathroom breaks because man, that is one tough chapter, I'D BETTER GO PEE. I have yet to break my 15-hours-straight record, but I had 16 1/2 earlier this week. There was an hour and a half when I had to go to a meeting, seeing as I'm technically secretary of one of the Jewish organizations on campus. Or something.
What I noticed at that meeting is when I spend so much time on my own in the library, I forget how to interact with people. I make jokes about John Ruskin's architectural views and Baden Powell's religious dynamism, but nobody gets them. So I resort to the lowest common denominator for a college student -- stupid, childish, dirty jokes, or ones about drugs or alcohol. Um, don't say them in front of the rabbi. So then I feel even sillier. Even when I'm with close friends, it takes me a good half hour to really feel at ease again.
What I need to do is make more friends at the library. I'm already on the way: one librarian in the Lower RadCam told me I ought to just bring a sleeping bag and save myself the trouble of going home. OK, when a Bod librarian knows you by name, you have a problem.
Just going to have to be a better balance some time. Not to-day though; my books are all in the 24-hour library as I type.
With love and voices.
So yes, I've been doing the developing and printing and it's been really fun and rewarding. And we all know there's nothing lovelier than a girl all bleary-eyed from hours in the darkroom smelling like chemicals. When I come up with something good, I'll put it on Flickr and mention it here. It is good fun. Also, in the 'how to do this and not die' sessions (hint: don't drink the chemicals and don't light anything on fire), I made good friends with Dom/Crocodile Boy (I know way too many people named Dom here, so Croc-Boy will have to do). It's nice having company in the darkroom; it makes it harder to accidentally lock yourself out and there's someone else to blame if your prints come out wonky.
Aside from printing, my excuse as been work. Lots of it. Lots of reading and writing and skimming and scribbling and obsessive FaceBook checking and god knows how many bathroom breaks because man, that is one tough chapter, I'D BETTER GO PEE. I have yet to break my 15-hours-straight record, but I had 16 1/2 earlier this week. There was an hour and a half when I had to go to a meeting, seeing as I'm technically secretary of one of the Jewish organizations on campus. Or something.
What I noticed at that meeting is when I spend so much time on my own in the library, I forget how to interact with people. I make jokes about John Ruskin's architectural views and Baden Powell's religious dynamism, but nobody gets them. So I resort to the lowest common denominator for a college student -- stupid, childish, dirty jokes, or ones about drugs or alcohol. Um, don't say them in front of the rabbi. So then I feel even sillier. Even when I'm with close friends, it takes me a good half hour to really feel at ease again.
What I need to do is make more friends at the library. I'm already on the way: one librarian in the Lower RadCam told me I ought to just bring a sleeping bag and save myself the trouble of going home. OK, when a Bod librarian knows you by name, you have a problem.
Just going to have to be a better balance some time. Not to-day though; my books are all in the 24-hour library as I type.
With love and voices.
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