mi querida, buenos aires

2005-02-26 / 8:20 p.m.

I doubt who it was will ever make their way back here....
but if you're the one who came across this page searching "nordin bar caballito" you should definitely tell me who you are.

�qui�n buscaba para el bar nordin en caballito? �Deje un mensaje y d�game quien usted sea!

so, uh, I heard you got really drunk

2005-02-26 / 1:36 p.m.

I wish I would have spent more time sleeping today, but lamentably, I've been plugging away at my philosophy paper instead. I'm not one to be a baby about paper writing, but it's ardous work when one doesn't know what the hell she's talking about. The future looks at least somewhat brighter now; after a conference with the professor (who thankfully tore the paper to shreads and offered some constructive advice), and a discussion with keef about how personal identity was a lot like kix cereal (it made a lot more sense than that, I'm just dumbing it down for you plebs), I feel like I can at least not know what I'm talking about in style.

Anyway, so I was taking a break from working on this junk, and thought about a conversation I had with Hillary last night. She directed me to this link on EK's LJ which transcribes a discussion that apparently went on via facebook about Tanner C. (my superchristian high school boyfriend who's in the christian frat at tech) getting absurdly drunk, passing out, ending up in the hospital, etc. Apparently, there was suspicion of foul play in the form of someone slipping his a Roofie, but it turned out that he wasn't drugged at all--just laboring under a BAC of .26. ouch. So in a fit of not wanting to work on this paper anymore, it seemed like a good idea to IM him. Don't ask me why I do the things I do, I don't know. That's really all there is to say. I was going to post parts of the conversation, but I'm beginning to see now that they really aren't all that funny.

Anyway, I guess it's time to work on this paper more. Off to the library I think. chau.

Lift your head up a little bit, sweetie (you have a little bit of a double chin there)

2005-02-25 / 1:32 p.m.

Yesterday was supremely shitty. The first reason is that my new computer has serious issues. I won�t bother detailing its symptoms, but it pretty much amounts to having to set aside the time to have some dude come here and replace the entire motherboard.. Fuck you, Dell. I am never again buying anything from you. Do you know what a pain in the ass this is for someone living in a dorm?! Also: I somehow managed to have ordered the wrong CD drive (one without a burner). This is fucking ridiculous. But this is horribly boring stuff for an entry to be made out of.

The other big contributor to yesterday being shitty is more entertaining--I went to get my picture made. A word to the wise before we begin: the next person that says anything about my dimples is getting a punch to the face (i-d-i-t-o-t-h). I feel like I�m kind of getting to a point where I�m not quite so annoying about hating my physical appearance, but going to the photographer tends remind one of all the reasons she hated your face and body in the first place. An hour of trying to angle myself to hide flaws and discussing the merits of soft focus and low lighting made me want to strangle myself. Added bonus: all the pictures were retarded�.and why no one told me that my hair was doing some funky thing is beyond me. Anyway, thank god it�s over now. What a pain in the ass that was. Since they were inexpensive photos, my mom ordered a bunch�including ones where my smile is comically large, to the point that I could be snarling. I sense that once I get the prints, that one will be o�er on the right in the �best imitation of myself� box.

Today I rang the bell. It�s a thing at The College that you get to ring the big bell on top of main hall once you get a job or accepted to school. I achieved my goal of getting carried off the ground by the pull of the rope.

Oh, the ironing!

2005-02-20 / 9:00 p.m.

Okay kids. I�m taking a little break. My brain is tired. It�s been one of those evenings where you sit down, work a bit on a paper, and after making decent progress realize that your original thesis isn�t really any good. Raise your hand if you�re ready to be graduated. Oh, speaking of, anyone in the immediate vicinity should perk up their ears at noon on Friday. Yours truly is going to be ringing the living fuck out of the bell in Main�s tower.

I suppose there are a handful of you I haven�t inflicted my newest good news upon yet�my program coordinator from UGA called to tell me that they were impressed with my file, and were going to nominate me for one of the college-subsidized assistantships in addition to the program assistantships I initially applied for. Yay! In the event that I am awarded one, a small loan or working a few hours a week at a second job would be enough to sustain me (albeit modestly) in an apartment OF MY OWN. Frickin� sweet. I don�t want to get my hopes up, but, um, they are. Not having to share a kitchen, a living space, or a bathroom. Possibly having a small gym within walking distance, possibly having a pool, possibly having my kitty cat. The possibility of cooking breakfast in the nude at 7:00 am while singing my favorite Ben Folds tunes�oops, I�ve said too much, but you get the point. At this point in my life, if I�m not seriously dating it or caring for it as a pet, I don�t want to live with it.

Saturday morning I met with my philosophy professor to talk about the paper I�m working on. Yes, that isn�t a mistake�I meant Saturday, he comes in on Saturdays, how great is that?! Initially intimidating, but ultimately great. Things started off kind of scary: once he realized I was sick, he had me roll my chair out into the hall of the philosophy suite and talk to him from outside the door of his office. And, honestly, he had a point�he�s an old guy dealing with too many physical ailments as it is, and really wants to avoid contracting anything else. After a few minutes, I was able to let go of some of my paralyzing anxiety of the man and just talk with him, and it was very helpful. He gave me good suggestions on what to do with the paper, and complimented my writing. Please know that this man is critical of writing, doesn�t bullshit, and doesn�t seem to throw around compliments terribly lightly�I was very flattered.

Roger came this weekend, and we celebrated something akin to Valentine�s Day. This included hanging out, going out to eat some Thai food, Playing Smash Bros., and watching Pulp Fiction over Gin and Lemonade (the gin was my little gift to him). It�s good that I�m not the type to wax schmoopy in my journal, because I could write tomes on that boy and how awesome he is, but I won�t. Ironically enough for someone who talks as much as I do, I lost my voice sumthin� terrible while he was here. I was hoarse when he arrived at TheCollege, and by the time I fell asleep, I was communicating in a croaky whisper. Why doesn�t this happen during the school week, so that I can milk it for what it�s worth?

man, I can�t believe no one posted their madlib on the comments thingie.