. . . . . entries for 30.11.07 . . . . .
Ahaha. Christmas shopping is going pretty well.
. . . . . entries for 29.11.07 . . . . .
Where the hell have my headphones gone? Hmph.
I WONDER by my troth, what thou, and I
Did, till we lov'd? were we not wean'd till then?
But suck'd on countrey pleasures, childishly?
Or snorted we in the seaven sleepers den?
T'was so; But this, all pleasures fancies bee.
If ever any beauty I did see,
Which I desir'd, and got, t'was but a dreame of thee.
And now good morrow to our waking soules,
Which watch not one another out of feare;
For love, all love of other sights controules,
And makes one little roome, an every where.
Let sea-discoverers to new worlds have gone,
Let Maps to other, worlds on worlds have showne,
Let us possesse one world, each hath one, and is one.
My face in thine eye, thine in mine appeares,
And true plaine hearts doe in the faces rest,
Where can we finde two better hemispheares
Without sharpe North, without declining West?
What ever dyes, was not mixt equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none doe slacken, none can die.
. . . . . entries for 28.11.07 . . . . .
Irony: the first place I could find the essay-based honor blurb was not on a Princeton site, but here.
. . . . . entries for 27.11.07 . . . . .
There's a huge maple of some unusually pointy-leaved variety (or something) not far from the pair of gingkos. It still has the vast majority of its leaves, and they are brilliantly, impossibly red. If someone photographed or painted the tree, or took its color and used it on a shirt or nail polish or a car, it would be unreal. I'd feel no attraction to it. But there, the leaves still on the branches, it reminds me of the poem I wrote about the greenness of the pond one morning. It makes me believe in God, or in Nature. I am increasingly convinced that the two are the same thing. I like the name Nature better, which probably makes me a horrible, damnable pagan.
Nature, Mother Earth: we grew up too fast, and it was all your fault. I'm sorry. We're getting better. When you're less pissed off, if ever that happens, I'll have to ask you about some stuff.
. . . . . entries for 26.11.07 . . . . .
On the lawn outside the junior slums, the ginkgo trees have dropped a carpet of bright yellow leaves. They're very pretty, and I would like to roll around in them, if they were not so wet.
I noticed that earlier today. Now it's dark out (obviously) and there is a thick mist hanging over the entire campus. It's warm for late November - around 50 - and it feels like something should happen. I don't think anything will, though. Sigh.
I am at Princeton, I am I am. I try to use fewer verb "be"s these days, and it generally does not go well. Alas.
I do not blog, I suppose, because I'm always working, or actually doing things. Mrah.
Today, I meet my academic advisor. I have been mulling over potential majors, and I think I need to take a Woody Woo class to see whether or not I'd even like it. Likewise, I want to take PSY 101 in the coming spring or fall, and an English class sometime. I cannot find the environment-themed English class that once existed, which is sad.
. . . . . entries for 23.11.07 . . . . .
I am home from a) Princeton and b) Lexington. Just sent Frank and Connie back home from a night of curry and FFVIII on the Golden Calf and warmth from the lit fireplace. I wanted to keep Frank. A lot. But I couldn't. Which is sad.
Far from becoming more mature and independent as I grow older, I feel myself becoming more attached to individual people. I would not mind, so much, living such that I would think of and help individual people more than the great People abstraction. Maybe I should give up and be an English teacher.
I was thinking about death last night, because Cassie and I were talking about it (I do not know why) before going to sleep. I realized I don't really fear my own death, but the thought of those I love dying is perhaps the most painful thing there is. The personal conquest of death hardly matters - people still die. Someone died just now, probably someone I don't know and will never hear of.
It makes me think life is too short. Too short for almost everything.
. . . . . entries for 21.11.07 . . . . .
It's weird to be up this early.
Miniwheats, Earl Grey, and a train to catch in an hour and a half-ish. I will see most of you goofballs soon. :)
. . . . . entries for 19.11.07 . . . . .
Plea from a Cat Named Virtue is exactly what I needed.
. . . . . entries for 18.11.07 . . . . .
Princeton: a school that makes even the most arrogant, self-assured, and lazy students learn from their stupid mistakes. (Read: pretty much failed my ENV midterm. Let's not do that again, shall we?)
Update: I am alive, and reading, and writing, and putting off my problem set.
. . . . . entries for 13.11.07 . . . . .
In the event that I have kids, I will have to think long and hard about whether or not I want to bring them up in a faith. I was not brought up in a faith, not in any way that impressed upon me a value system or a set of stories, or introduced me to a particular community, or anything like that. Particularly in the case of Catholicism, the experience of the congregation itself can be bizarre, even scary, in my limited experience. Dogma does not agree with me on most any count encountered.
The thing about church is, to me, the aspect of study: the kids in HUM who were brought up Catholic, in particular, are already intimately familiar with scripture, and that's just such an incredible store of knowledge upon which to draw. I am especially jealous of the fellow who went to Regis for high school, who seems to know the New Testament backwards and forwards from his theology class sophomore year. Grrr. I wish I had been able to take a theology class.
Maybe it's the school thing, and not the church thing, which I will need to attend closely to.
In other news: A- on my second HUM paper. I will type some of Denis Feeney's comments here, because they're kind of. . . great.
"A frustrating essay in many ways, Erin!"
Uh oh.
"You have thought hard about these texts and your references to them on the whole show a good knowledge; you write with energy and crisp clarity, so that the paper is a pleasure to read."
Thanks Feeney. :D
. . . so the frustrating part must come next, right?
"Somehow, though, you seemed to paint yourself into a corner from the start by choosing to start with love as a defense mechanism against alienation or political tyranny."
DAMN IT, that's exactly what I was trying NOT to do. But I thought it worked. What's wrong?
"You can make this work pretty well for Antigone,"
My Antigone section was awful.
"but it's much harder to get off the ground for your other texts, for the reasons I've flagged in my marginal comments."
Haven't read those yet, but I think that's basically what pederasty IS, and I thought I made a reasonably good case for it. More later, after I read the comments.
"Keep the faith" is an amazing phrase.
. . . . . entries for 10.11.07 . . . . .
I believe we are currently dying a slow death on the field playing Yale. I was out watching the football game earlier, but it was too cold and we were losing and it's football, so I came back in. :P
Everyone think encouraging thoughts in Frank's direction today and tomorrow: this is his epic travel swim meet weekend. Viel Glück Frankpod!
. . . . . entries for 9.11.07 . . . . .
MINIWHEAT DANCE PARTY!?
. . . . . entries for 8.11.07 . . . . .
Damn it. It's Writing on the Environment or HUM part 2. . . not both. Damn it, damn it, damn it.
. . . . . entries for 7.11.07 . . . . .
Positive note: I don't actually need to have those graphs done until next week. Woooo. They'll be a mind break from constant Bible reading. :P
I believe this particular bout of lethargy is a sugar hangover. Cursed pound cake. Graaaar.
. . . . . entries for 6.11.07 . . . . .
Marcus ORLYus is the invention of Kelsey Brooks, who is amazing.
I like Marcus Aurelius - I like how this part of his writings consist entirely of giving credit where credit is due, and I see it, and I think of lessons I need to learn from Rusticus:
"The recognition that I needed to train and discipline my character.
Not to be sidetracked by my interest in rhetoric. Not to write treatises on abstract questions, or deliver moralizing little sermons, or compose imaginary descriptions of The Simple Life or The Man Who Lives Only for Others. To steer clear of oratory, poetry and belles lettres.
Not to dress up just to stroll around the house, or things like that. To write straightforward letters (like the one he sent my mother from Sinuessa). And to behave in a conciliatory way when people who have angered or annoyed us want to make up.
To read attentively - not to be satisfied with 'just getting the gist of it.' And not to fall for every smooth talker.
And for introducing me to Epictetus's lectures - and loaning me his own copy."
I was an hour late to my creative writing class tonight because I was napping. Good bloody grief. Didn't get in trouble, but. . . GOOD BLOODY GRIEF.
Also: I'm so proud of Barack Obama for appearing on SNL.
YAAAAAY A ON HUM MIDTERM!
Dr. Garg reminds me of Mrs. Hughes.
Marcus Aurelius and ENV data tonight. Woooo. . . no. . . not really. Blarg.
Dear blog,
I am sorry for neglecting you.
Right now I am MAD EARLY to HUM lecture, and Ronnie, our class overachiever, just walked in with her gorgeous card to Bob Fagles, and I am thinking of the three groups on facebook for Princetonians who feel grossly inadequate all the time. :P Oh well. I finished my paper, and it's decent. Ronnie approves of my idea to create a Norse mythology class as an upperclassman, and she says she had a rough time of this paper. I worry that my paper is *too* vague this time, perhaps, since I'm hearing of papers three pages too long, and mine is just long enough.
. . . oh well. :P Again.
My sleep deficit is absurd. Tonight there may be sleep, after Marcus Aurelius and lab graphs.
. . . . . entries for 4.11.07 . . . . .
Project Runway starts in ten days. AAAAH.
Okay, so facebook is not functioning well, and I have various aches about my person, and I am WICKED TIRED from waking up at 4 AM.
. . . . . entries for 3.11.07 . . . . .
Oh. . . the train situation does not look good.
. . . . . entries for 1.11.07 . . . . .
Interesting fact: I'm sort of blond sometimes.
This room of mine - what a strange place it has become. It was so familiar a matter of months ago; it was mine. Now I can think of at least three places I'd feel more at home, three beds I'd rather be in than one of these.
Cassie, Princeton, Frank: I miss you.
Chateau de Sherman smells like curry. Do you know WHY it smells like curry? Because I just cooked me some FREAKIN' CURRY, BITCHES!
. . . sorry. It just seemed like the right thing to say. :P
Curry was good. The parents, in their horrifyingly harmonious state, cleaned my room. It is still cluttered, but very orderly. There is also a horrifyingly large TV across the hall. And it is fall proper here. And Max appears to have forgotten who I am, and Brucie Jr. is turning orange. (Buddy has not changed at all.)
And my computer screen is really big, and my keyboard does not love my nails. Maybe I should cut them.
Aaaah. Leaving Rochester: one of those things you just pretend won't happen, until it has to, when all that hanging pretending drops like a brick on your face. Alas.
come home?
.:people:.
{ting}
she looks like the real thing
{mari}
out and about
[kelsey]
THIS IS AMERICA
{yianni}
stop being depressed
{alisa}
other
[shannon]
close and far
{frank}
islands where no islands should go
[cassie]
eating knowledge
{colin}
my dm
[emily]
shoulder to the wheel
[brian]
nostalgic for fantasy
[nicole]
industry insider
{elle}
angry enviro
[matt]
never heard of miyazaki
[pirate dan]
are you reading this?
[olga]
distracted
[messiah dan]
messiah/believer
{max}
approach focus
[natalie]
wait a minute
[susan]
solitude
{greg}
manbeargreg
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.:skin:.
turtles! turtles! by araglas
(heavily modified by yours truly)