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Post by fico on Nov 14, 2003 14:56:23 GMT -5
11.14.o3
Fri. 1:45pm. I'm almost done being sick. The Writing Center went on a trip to Hershey, which will be spoken of later. Back from it, I had two days of frantically trying to catch up, and then I got sick. Turns out, I've got tonsillitus. I got it so bad, I could feel my gland in my throat, because it swelled so much. It was really hard to swallow for a while, because one of my tonsils was so inflamed. This did not help my lack of wanting to eat.
But I've been eating really well. I just want real food for once. The caf is all grease and nasty stuff. I want vegetables that still have vitamins and pasta that isn't overcooked and a knife that actually cuts any meat I happen to have. Real food. Even when I go out to eat, I can't get real food; it's still all nasty. Even the salads don't feel real, and they're not greasy at all. I don't know what's up, but I'm really looking forward to Thanksgiving.
I'll be going to Madison for Thanksgiving. Chandra and I are spending it together. I visited her a while ago. I don't know if I said that. She's so lonely. For serious, she's so lonely. That was the main reason I agreed to go, was just because I don't think that's good for her at all.
But anyway, about my sickness. I'm really happy that I'm almost done, especially since it's the weekend. Hopefully, I'll be able to catch up on everything I'm behind in. (ehem. *quietly ignores the fact that he has Greek homework due in just over an hour, and he hasn't started it yet*)
Registration was on Wednesday, so I know my classes for next semester. Well, I kind of do. The situation is awkward right now. I'll update when I know what's going on.
I'm sorry I've sort of stopped posting in here. I've sort of stopped doing a lot of things I used to, and I'm trying to figure out why. Part of it has been that I've just been busy. Other parts are that I'm changing, and I know I am, and I don't know how yet. Anyway, I'll keep an eye on myself and see what's up.
I'm also sorry this post-after-so-long is so short, but I really ought to do that Greek homework, and I've procrastinated a lot today.
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Post by fico on Nov 15, 2003 14:11:13 GMT -5
11.15.o3
Sat. 12:59pm. I shouldn't be writing this. I should be writing a revision that I have to talk about in an hour and a half which I've barely started. I'll get to it soon, I promise. But first, I have to talk about the concert I went to last night.
I got in late, and this guy was singing, and it was really gorgeous. I mean, the way he was singing was just gorgeous. He was very... he was very into his music. I didn't particularly like most of the stuff he sang, really only that song that I was late getting into. But you could tell that he liked what he was doing, and I really liked that about him.
So the reason I went was because [John] wanted me to check out Brenda Weiler, this folky person he thought I would like. So I went, and she was really good. She was the type of artist you could just sit and let the music wash over you, rather than concentrate on what she was trying to say. Or you could interact with her and really listen to the lyrics, and that was just as good.
I kept getting distracted from her concert because I kept having these internal realizations and ideas and epiphanies. I have to create something again. I realized I haven't created something for fun in months. I haven't practiced guitar in months, literally, months plural. A friend said a while ago that she hadn't practiced guitar in a long while, and I wondered how she could ever let that happen, because I couldn't go through more than three days without practicing. Then I got to college, and I just don't have time to, really. I mean, if I were more efficient and if I could just finish my stuff faster, I would have time. But I'm getting so drained that things are taking me longer to do than they used to. So yeah, no guitar for me until Christmas, probably.
I got two good ideas for songs. They really are good. I even have a couple lines for each of them. And I think I can pull them off and not have them suck. I'm excited about that. Way excited. I have to find time to write them before I get un-excited about my ideas.
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I should write an e-mail to my dad this weekend. I don't know if I'll be able to though, because I'm trying to finish catching up in all my classes (almost there!), and Rue is supposed to call. But I really think it's about time my dad heard from me again. It's been about two weeks I think since I last wrote? Not sure. Maybe I'll wait until Wednesday morning to write, 'cause then more stuff will have happened.
Thank you for tuning in. This has been your Gen-entry of the day.
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Post by fico on Dec 11, 2003 19:54:43 GMT -5
12.11.o3
GRAVITY IS NOTHING TO ME / I'M MOVING AT THE SPEED OF SOUND
Thurs. 6:28pm. WARNING: this is a short entry, because I don't have time to make a real one.
Blah. I've been busy. Majorly busy. And I probably shouldn't be taking the time to do this, but I feel bad about how rarely I post.
Anyway, I have almost finished my fall semester. It sounds so weird to say that. I've really only got finals and final-drafts left. (Two of my classes don't require a test, but they do require a lot of writing to be handed in by a certain day.)
Gen's list of things to do before Thursday (in no particular order):
PHYSICS
--study test 1, test 2, test 3, Chap 10, Chap 11, and Chap 12.
GREEK
--study chapters 1a through 8b. (1a - 1b - 2a - 2b - 3a - 3b - 4a - 4b - 5a - 5b - 6a - 6b - 7a - 7b - 8a - 8b)
HEBREW BIBLE --study new stuff, study basics of older stuff.
CULTURAL STUDIES --Exploratory texts on movie (Malena) and book (Pride and Prejudice)
--Complete Commonplace Book1
--Revise Basho essay, off-campus walk essay, on-campus walk essay
TOPICS
--Post four more times: #19, #20, #21, #22
--Commentary on posting experience
--Junior/Senior consultant2
--Orchid form commentary 3
--Revise mini-essay
So, yeah. I'm kind of busy. I've also got to think of and get a good present by then (a friend of mine has a birthday in three days), and try to think of presents for other people for Christmas and things.
So tomorrow is the first day of finals. I've got my Hebrew Bible final at 2:00. I haven't started studying yet. But it's really cool. From 10:00-11:30 tonight, there's the late-night breakfast. We can go to the caf for a meal of pancakes and such, and our professors serve us the food, and it generally just seems like a good time. It's supposed to make sure the kids get a study break and stuff like that. I'm looking forward to it.
Happy note to end with: I'm hanging out with [Revvie] a lot. She and I really get along. Anyway, she's a chemistry major. And her professor for one of her classes has them posting on a web-forum for part of the class. He posted up a quizilla test "Which Biological Molecule are You? and said what his was. So Revvie took the test and got DNA.
Historical background to put everything in context: Revvie and I are both friends with John. He's a really dry and sarcastic kind of guy. (Revvie and I are just sarcastic.) And he started calling me "Revvie-Light" a while back, though he's dropped it by now. The idea was that it was a take-off of "Bud-Light". I'm like the watered down version of Revvie, 'cause I've picked up a lot of her habits and speech-patterns. So keep in mind that I'm kind of the less-potent-Revvie.
I thought it was hilarious that a bunch of chemistry-geeks were taking a molecule-test, so I took it too... I ended up getting mRNA4 as my molecule. (You are mRNA. You're brilliant, full of important, interesting information and you're a great friend to the people you care about. You may have sides to you that no one understands. But while you understand more than most people, you're only half-there most of the time.) Revvie and I laughed about that for a little whlie before we had to get back to homework.
But anyway, I'm really curious what some of you guys are. (Really, this is just my clever scheme to see who reads my journal. Whoa subtle arts of detection. )
p.s. i'll be revising that list i've got of things-to-do as i complete them. just for fun.
_____________________________ 1. A Commonplace Book is a journal of quotations, kind of. You basically write down anything interesting that you read or hear. You also include definitions of words you don't know.
2. We had to do a project where we chose a junior or a senior and had a lot of meetings and discussions with them. We had to write an essay about what those talks were about. I already wrote mine (though it really sucks), but I haven't typed or submitted it yet.
3. In the Writing Center, we fill out these things called Orchid forms. Basically, the forms give a run-down of what the conference was about. It asks questions about what was discussed and how, who was involved, etc. We've had to enter these forms (they're written on paper) into the database (on a computer), so we've read a lot of other people's forms. We're supposed to write an essay on what we learned from reading them, patterns we've noticed, etc.
4. Basic run-down for people who either don't know about DNA/mRNA or forgot since they had the class: DNA is what makes up our bodies, they always call it our "blue-print". mRNA is the stuff that you have originally, and then this copier-thing rund down mRNA and patches things together until you've got a complete DNA strand. Basically, mRNA is half of DNA. [/size]
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Post by Rue on Dec 12, 2003 11:31:52 GMT -5
Look! *grins*
"You are glucose. People feed off of you. You are sweet, caring, and a source of energy for everyone around you. You can inspire others with your creativity and depth, and you can keep people alive when in times of famine. People love you...or at least the way you taste."
That professor is a smart dude...
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Calantha
Resident
starman waiting in the sky
Posts: 623
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Post by Calantha on Dec 12, 2003 15:40:43 GMT -5
Psst...I can never resist a quiz...I got glucose as well Rue. Oh, I liked the quiz by the way, made me rack my brain about old bio notes later on. *mumbles something about a quiz addiction*
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Post by KoNeko on Dec 13, 2003 9:09:33 GMT -5
Pssst, Jox, would I read your journal? I got mRNA as well! Those quiz questions are hilarious...
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Post by Rue on Dec 13, 2003 14:17:59 GMT -5
Hey, my roommate just took the quiz and she got:
"You are an enzyme. You are powerful, dark, variable, and can change many things at your whim...even when they're not supposed to be changed. Bad you. You can be dangerous or wonderful; it's your choice."
(Don't worry; she's wonderful. Today she was talking about how we should have an effigy burning with underwear to scare off the prospees 'cause it's a Discovery Day and all these kids who might want to come here are touring the campus. )
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Post by fico on Jan 1, 2004 8:42:52 GMT -5
1.1.o4
AND IF I COULD YOU KNOW I WOULD JUST HOLD YOUR HAND AND YOU'D UNDERSTAND
thurs. 8:20am. i've discovered a new habit of mine that i need to change. i've started about three or four entries for this journal (some of those starts were substantial paragraphs in length), but i haven't managed to post one yet. one time i forgot, another time i just hit one of those feelings where actually writing out the text was too much at the time, another time i got distracted by a friend who said she was sad, etc. i thought i would come home for winter break and be posting again. but something's up. i dunno.
we've all sort of agreed that trapdoor and glenmore are basically mini-essay-sites. i mean, we go on these long explanations of different things, trying to explain a concept or idea. that was always my favorite part of posting. it's so cliche, but i'm kind of essay-burned-out. normally, i would simply accept that explanation because i think it's true. the problem is, that i've gone around looking for "interesting" conversation since i've been home. i can't figure out why i don't just read up on it on trapdoor and post in the midst of a bunch of ideas, rather than try to start my own idea with only one person at a time.
i sometimes go through phases of extreme anti-social-ness. (a friend and i slept through halloween this year. we were both being anti-social. and we fell asleep rather than go to the very-cool-sounding party that we had both been invited to. (i was going to make out with one of the hostesses, because it said on the invitation that you had free entry if you did. i think that would have been hilarious.) but neither of us cared.) basically, the phase consists of a period of time (never known one to be longer than twenty-four hours, but i occasionally have almost-anti-social feelings for up to a month after a strong period) in which i like to see almost no one, if anyone. it's best to find someone you can be anti-social with. that way, you can both go through this time-period of not really talking at all, really just being with each other so that you have an excuse not to be with anyone else. and it's really great when you find someone with the scope to realise that sometimes you want to be anti-social when s/he doesn't, so then they leave you alone then also. it's just that sometimes people are too much work, and you need a break. like there's this kid i know. [adams] is an interesting character. she's super-hyper, and i don't have her entirely figured out. but i do know that she's entirely dependent on human interaction. (or if not dependent, then she values it almost to the point of dependency.) i like adams, really i do. she's just so much sometimes. and she sometimes has trouble understanding that other people just need quiet and space and time sometimes. but she and i get along anyway. it's just that sometimes talking to people makes me feel almost physically ill. it's just like i so don't want to do it, i feel almost sick.
honestly, it's not as bad as that sounds. it's not super-sickness or anything. it's just that taste you get in the back of your throat, like when you don't brush your teeth one night and then sleep too late (or way too little) the next day. i get that (rarely, but sometimes) when talking to people. and unless i've got a pretty full stomach, it makes me feel mildly sick.
anyway, the point of the matter is that i've been trying to make myself post more, but i'm currently in withdrawl from certain people. i did this when i first got to college. i was still posting, and i didn't talk to too many people at school for a little bit. so now i'm home, and i'm totally on a different brain-wave than i used to be. i just feel horrible because i thought i was going to post like mad once i got on break, make sure i still knew everyone, blah de blah. *shrug* i dunno.[/size]
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Post by fico on Jan 1, 2004 8:53:05 GMT -5
8:48am. so i re-thought about what i just wrote, and i decided it was stupid of me to end so pessimistically. so. there's this guy at college, a professor, who asked me to write an essay for class. (actually, i had to write a lot of essays for his class. ) and one of them turned out to be really good. (i mean, i wrote a lot of crap ones, so don't think i'm tooting my own horn. *currently ignores the use of cliche due to the time of morning and the lack of sleep the night before*) so i'm going to post it up, 'cause i think some people will like it, and because i'm proud of it, and all that jazz. give me comments if you want, i like having them. and keep in mind that i'm planning on revising it some more, so it's not the "final draft" or anything yet.
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Post by fico on Jan 1, 2004 8:58:02 GMT -5
inner self revealed silence in composition transform into me
I’m alone in my room, which is a good thing. The door is locked, which never happens. I hope my roommate won’t come back any time soon, which is stupid because she said she wouldn’t. Under such circumstances, I worry anyway.
The bandage is tightly wrapped, new. I’ll never be able to re-create that perfection, that absolute lack of disrepair. But this seems like it might be the point. We start out fresh, no mistakes, no blunders, no mishaps. And as we wander along, stumbling through our learning, we develop a sense of what creates those snags in the cloth, those holes, those inconsistencies in the way the material has stretched. It doesn’t matter that we can’t change the way we work. Despite our frustration with our inability to change, what we can build ourselves on is the knowledge of the process of our learning.
I unclip the three clasps and drop them in my top drawer. They will not be needed. Safety pins nearby, I set about wrapping, creating my new image to pass off as “me”, whoever that is. At this point, I’m not sure I have a defined persona. It must be there somewhere, I’m not insubstantial gas, a blue ball of intelligence hovering at nose-level. But I haven’t pin-pointed my current self. I can see who I’ve been for years past--the realizations born of so many hours spent on introspection.
My room was yellow. I would turn off all my lights, open all the windows, and lie down on my floor with only a pair of pants and maybe some socks, the friged air creating divots of gooseflesh up and down my exposed arms. My back was always to my windows. I could lean my head back and back and back and look at stars glistening.
I’ve attended a church camp since the age of eleven. Last summer was my final year there. I had to tell my friends I was no longer Christian. I spent months worrying about what camp would be like. Eventually, I couldn’t worry anymore because I was there. I had to tell them I wasn’t Christian because I knew I wouldn’t be returning to camp anymore, but I couldn’t “betray” their trust again by telling them I had been bisexual for over a year. And I certainly couldn’t tell them I had been considering transgenderism as a possible way of life.
Which is why my door is now locked, and my Ace bandage is now secure. Spiffy pants skim down my legs, black shoes adorn my feet, a dress shirt, tie, and vest cover everything the bandage didn’t manage to. My hair is cut and gelled. I hope I pass this off as well as I’m trying to.
A friend told me how transparent freshmen are. They wander around, thinking the face-value defense mechanisms they developed to get them through high school will actually work in college, too. You learn much more in college than just how to express yourself well and find the derivatives of complex equations. Most people also learn how to live in society without putting too much of themselves on display. They learn how to protect what is most important to themselves. The same friend told me I wasn’t transparent, and that was a lot of why she liked me.
The difference I’ve noticed between myself and a lot of high school seniors is our ways of showing confidence. It’s the difference between telling people you’re confident and just acting in a way that conveys the same thought. Don’t tell people what you are, and they’ll be more likely to tell you later.
I’m not about to proclaim that I’m a guy today. I hope people pick it up for themselves. Despite my careful precautions—my many safety pins, multiple layers, the most convincing “natural” air of masculine confidence I can hope to maintain—I fear I’ve established myself too well as Gen-the-girl. Embedded in ourselves by the age of two is a sense of gender-of-myself. By the age of four, we not only know our own genders and have a somewhat timid grasp of how to start displaying that gender, but we have also become relatively adept at noticing the societal clues dropped by our social comrades, defining their genders. As we grow older, we gain more experience and knowledge, moving away from “short hair equals boy” to “short hair in these certain styles means boy”. I’ve never managed to see myself as Gen-the-girl, but I seriously doubt my own ability to transform an absence-of-girl into a presence-of-boy.
For good measure, and because it’s one of the more masculine articles of clothing I own, I also don my suede jacket. I look myself in the mirror and take a couple preparatory breaths. Looking at the clock, I realize I’ve spent more time getting ready than I had meant to. A change in your portrayal of yourself can be deeply stressing, and often time-consuming.
step softly through life change comes at every moment transcend myself here
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Post by fico on Jan 1, 2004 9:00:59 GMT -5
Outside, the air is cold. I hope it stays that way, knowing my suede will warm me quite soon enough. My shoes go clunk clunk along the cement of the sidewalk. I experiment briefly with the different tones my shoes are capable of creating. Depending on the emphasis I place on separate parts of my shoes, and the angle with which I strike them, different sounds emerge.
My trousers scrape softly against me. The fabric on my skin is noticeable, but not unenjoyable. I can feel individual spirals, one corner, an edge.
I’m an experienced city-walker. Years of going to church in Trenton have accustomed me to a rapid pace. Unless I choose to, I rarely stand still, waiting for lights to change or cars to pass. I’m worried I’m late, and so I choose not to stand still. I approach First Ave. and cross the street perpendicular to it. Walking, I pass Mercy Hospital, sculptures, a parking garage that makes me feel as though I should be tipping over. I have the directions memorized; they weren’t difficult. I turn onto Third Street, keeping up my pace.
I read in a book once about a certain “Highlander’s Lope”. I grew up in a Hungarian-based culture. My father came from Hungary when he was only fifteen or sixteen. As I grew up, my family attended the Hungarian Reformed Church of Trenton, we applied our skills to bettering the American-Hungarian Civic Association, we associated ourselves with other Hungarians from across half the country or more. With the hindsight given me now, I suppose I might have taken my father’s strong sense of Hungarian culture for granted.
Scotland, on the other hand, was a mystery, and I was addicted to mysteries. My mother’s Scottish heritage was only hinted at throughout my childhood, and so I researched it myelf. I wished to emulate all of Scotland I could agree with. And so I researched the country and the culture, developed an inner view of what it “must” be like. During my Scotland-phase, I controlled my walking until I had built my stride into what I thought must be a “Highlander’s Lope”—a stride that could cover miles without tiring the walker out. And I suppose it worked. My steady clip carries me relatively quickly from one place to the next, and at the end I’m maybe a little thirsty, depending on the weather. Thus, the fact that I don’t know how far along Third Street to travel before reaching my destination doesn’t worry me.
I pass a building, outside of which a girl talks on a cell-phone. She looks like she just got out of basketball practice. Farther along, a group of two children are running through a gutter, stirring up as many leaves as their tiny, rubber-shod feet can manage. They look up at me, bright eyes staring out of dark skin. I feel like Trenton. The sense of a city, dirty but not completely filthy—a naïve view. Small children entertaining themselves as best they can, a social barrier of age and race and distrust separating us. I always felt those social boundaries somewhere low in me. The absence of trust is what I always miss, but I wonder how I can miss it if I never remember trust truly being there.
The children look down again, shy, shout and jump into the leaves one at a time. One is noticeably larger than the other, probably a sibling. The smaller follows everything the larger one does, and I remember a time when I couldn’t shake my sisters from my side. One followed me because she liked me, the other followed me because I found it annoying. Both of them were incomparably horrible to have tagging along, especially when I wanted to do the more “dangerous” things I knew of, without their being able to tattle to my parents. I would have to spend half an hour or so doubling back through the fields, woods and backyards in my neighborhood before properly shaking either of them off. To my left, the older child doesn’t seem to mind the younger’s existence, might even appreciate it.
leaves dangle from wood waver around, fall to earth quietly dispersed
Across the street from the leaf-jumpers is a basketball hoop, walled off from drivers by concrete poles. Three children are playing a game, possibly a form of HORSE or PIG. I refuse to listen in, deference to the privacy inherent to living. The boy makes a shot and the two girls groan in disbelief. I smile at the recollection of past games I’ve played.
I’ve passed the children. At my feet are some chips from a poker-set—blue and white. I resolve to pick one up on the way back, if I notice them. Most people don’t look down nearly as much as you would think. I’ve tried to work on a head-up mentality, a projection of Gen-as-male. As we grow from the age of two and after, we pick up the habits of those mentoring and caring for us. We obtain a slew of knowledge, never explicitly stated, which dictates how we act in relation to one another. I have made a conscious effort to make eye-contact without defiance. Defiance can easily be misinterpreted for defensiveness, which conveys weakness. In my case, the interpretation would be accurate. Most men have learned they have the right to make eye-contact with anyone they please, the domination of the opposite gender at work every day. I haven’t convinced myself yet that I can look anyone in the eye if I want to. Culture has instilled enough attitudes of docility in me to create a need for explicit dictation of my actions. Luckily, I haven’t seen anyone on my route except the children, who seemed more interested in playing than in noticing the stranger walking through their neighborhood. And when I arrive at CSPS, I find myself in the company of people I know, people I relate to and feel on par with.
the gondola ride ripple of water across my lone consciousness
The steps creak as I climb them, moving slowly so my chunky shoes don’t clunk too loudly. At the ticket-desk is a friend, dressed beautifully but completely out-of-place. Dangling earrings, a form-fitting dress in a dark pastel of indigo. We’re attending a folk-rock show of die-hard feminists and gay women. I’m disconcerted by the abrupt change in my interpretations of the concert. I had expected spiked hair and band t-shirts, lesbians and multiple piercings. I had expected my friend to come as a man. But she is incomprehensible unless she chooses to explain herself, so I don’t bother asking. I tell her about my walk instead.
musical fanfare paper me through with volume create emotion
so, and yeah. i'm actually not sure which version this is, exactly. but i know i still want to work on a couple parts, especially now that i don't have to fulfill any requirements for class.
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Post by En Sylvan on Jan 6, 2004 18:10:24 GMT -5
I dig it. Did you revise?
*cackles obscurely and is flattered sideways*
Oh, and one more thing:
...that gets one big arched eyebrow
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Post by fico on Jan 16, 2004 11:50:39 GMT -5
1.16.04
WE GET HIGH IN BACKSEATS OF CARS / WE BREAK INTO MOBILE HOMES
Fri. 10:41am. Dude. So I had this talk with [Dr. Denim] when I got back from break. (He's the guy that I wrote the essay for.) I had to submit the essay in a portfolio with three other pieces. Man, I'm not even lying: he wants me to try to get some published. That's, like, major-mundo-huge-Dr.Denim compliment right there. He wants me to try to publish it in this thing called Colere. It's this thing that Coe publishes, and writers mail in from everywhere. He, like, thought I actually had a chance of being published. I dunno. I don't know if it's actually as big as I'm making out. I'm actually more excited about the fact that he wanted me to try, rather than the fact that I might end up published at the end of it all. So, anyway. Help with this essay (the one posted above) would be really good, 'cause I think I'm going to try to get it into Colere, and I have to get it in by the end of January.
Yeah, I revised some. But it'll take me a little while to find the latest revision. (Some of my stuff is saved in e-mail, and some of it is on my F-drive, so I've got to find it.) Glad you liked it. Dr.Denim and I were talking about how it might make it stronger to take out the middle and last bits. (It's sort of hard to see the segments with the haiku. It's seperated by preparing for the walk, walking, and arriving at CSPS.) We were thinking of maybe trying to take out the last two sections and then adding a little more onto the first segment. Because I like the last two, but I wrote them partly to fulfill requirements and partly because I like them. But I'm not sure if they actually add to the piece of not, you know? Thoughts?
... Why a big raised eyebrow? I don't think it fits perfectly, but I see some resemblences in a big way, and I never really expect them to be perfect anyway.
...Time for class.
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Post by Rue on Jan 16, 2004 22:34:58 GMT -5
I don't know... if someone told me "People should definitely drink more of you every day." I would totally have a big arched eyebrow. Even though I can't arch an eyebrow on command, it would do it itself.
Okay, about the essay. The last two sections feel a bit weird because they don't have multiple topics inside them. Like, in your first two sections you would switch from one topic to a memory to a result of that experience to another topic, etc. And the last two felt more orderly because they were shorter and more focused on only one thing each. I noticed the difference in feeling, but only mentioned it because you mentioned the last two. Like, maybe at the end of the walk and everything, you'd want it to feel more concluded and organized, but I sort of sensed that you still wanted it to be mysterious and that even at the end, things weren't really resolved...
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Post by fico on Jan 29, 2004 13:54:28 GMT -5
1.29.04
YOU DON'T SEEM TO UNDERSTAND, I'M NOT WHO YOU THINK I AM / YOU DON'T SEEM TO UNDERSTAND, I'VE THOUGHT THIS OUT ALL THAT I CAN
Thurs. 12:41pm. This is a pissed-off Gen. Want to see it again? *points*
Fucking follow-orders people piss me off. So, yeah. I'm petitioning to take extra course credit, right? Okay. Now, my GPA is nothing to brag about, but it's not bad either. It's high enough to be in the Honors Program, so they shouldn't have a problem with it. And further to that, I have completed my lab-science credit. (Even with Honors, I'm required to take a lab credit in order to graduate.) I passed the class with a C+, and I've gotten good grades in the rest of my classes. Like I said, I don't have a GPA worth bragging about. But I'm definitely doing well enough, considering that it's my first year, I took completely unrelated courses last semester, and I took fucking Physics.
So, and yeah. They denied me before, based on GPA alone. So I got Dr. Denim to write a new thing recommending me (Dr. Demin is my advisor, and you need to have your advisor's signature whenever you do anything out of the ordinary concerning your credits), and I even got the chair of the English department to write a letter of recommendation. I mean, what more do they want from me? Oh, right, I was supposed to ace Physics.
So I talked to Dr. Denim again. And I talked to the English Chair again. And we're going to try another tack for getting me credit for the classes.
What the petitions committee doesn't seem to understand is that I grew up with Rue. And if you weren't stubborn, you didn't get anything you wanted. Do you think I should tell them who they're up against? [insert angel-face smiley here]
Meh. Okay, so I'm not about to go bitch them out or anything. But I am getting credit for the courses, and I am taking all the courses I want to. The whole point of college is that you're in control of your own education. And the whole point of the petitions committee is that they assess every situation carefully, and they weigh all the variables. This time, when I was denied, they said that I would have a chance later to raise my GPA, and I could re-petition then. They said they don't have enough facts to make a decision that doesn't concern my GPA.
The thing that really pisses me off is just that they are reducing my entire person to a single number.
Worst Case Scenario: I go through the whole semester and re-petition about a week and a half before finals. I tell them I've taken the classes for the entire semester, I get a note from each of my professors telling the committee how I've done in all their classes, and then I politely ask permission to claim credit for the work I've done.
...*hopes it won't come to that*
p.s. wrote about last night in the concerts thread on trapdoor. it was a good night.
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