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In the beginning, it is always dark...
Sep. 4th, 2003 05:58 pmHmm. Haven't seen that movie in a while . . .
September, compared to August (boo, hiss) is always a good month for me, and due to god knows how long of being in school, has always signified that something new and different is beginning. Before I went to college, this was always ushered in by the smell of new notebooks and paper, and the obligatory superboring shopping trip for "school clothes." These days the signs of September are a bit more subtle, a couple of trees here and there jumping the gun and shedding leaves already, the smell of woodsmoke as people begin to fend off chilly nights, and the sweet lipped, swivel-hipped crop of dewy eyed froshlings inhabiting Smith, smiling at me as I bike furiously through campus on my way home. Damn, but this year's first years are tasty. And so young... I look at them and wonder if I was ever that young, even seven years ago when I started this whole college problem... Of course I remember thinking the same thing in high school when I'd see a class of second graders and think, damn, I was that tiny once upon a time, huh?
September's also a bit of a reminder that time and people are changing and flowing around me. I don't know how or where I constantly get this idea that things come to a standstill when I turn my back and that they will be exactly the same when I turn around. I find myself thinking about UNIS lately, wondering what's up there, if Ms. Knox is still grading high for finding sexual imagery in Madame Bovary and writing in stripteases and "real French kissing" into her productions of Shakespeare, or if her constant impersonations of a chimney have finally caught up with her. Sometimes I miss it there, as it probably was the last place I really knew who the hell I was, even if I wasn't happy with that all the time. Hmm. Still plan to stop by at some point, as I have some tapes in the Media Lab that I want to copy. Plays mostly, the ones I teched for. None of the ones I was actually in (cringe) except for The Wicked Lord and the Old Lady in 7th grade, and that's because that play was just friggin ridiculous. And it also features a teensy![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
harinezumi in a gi. :)
I had a quasi UNIS dream a couple of nights ago come to think of it. I was trying to get into this seminar type thing at the UN and I kept having to go though all of these security checks, and they kept trying to throw me out, and I'd have to stand there and explain that no, I really did belong there, I was just lost and didn't know where the hell the seminar was. Finally one of my old French teachers, Monsieur Basséne, whose favorite method of teasing me was to pronounce my name starting with whatever vowel sounds he could think of (Endee, Ondee, Indee, Aindee, Undee - you get the picture) happened to walk by and he was able to tell me where the flying fuck this seminar was, but he insisted on taking me to get some coffee, saying that I needed it after being harassed by so many security guards.
But I digress. September. New Beginnings. Blah blah de blah de blah.
I nipped into Smith's registrar's office to figure out what the first part of Step B is in the whole steal-underpants->?->profit cha cha of returning in the Spring is. Also picked up a course catelog, and am already mad about the fact that several of the classes I want to take aren't available next semester. Damn budget cuts. Probably this weekend will be devoted to girding my loins and plunging into the beurocratic purgatory that is Readmission Paperwork. Eep.
In other, non school related news, September also inaugurated several irritating price hikes. The PVTA is now a dollar year round per ride without a valid school ID. This is only a minor annoyance, as I still have one from UMass. Still. Ouch.
Smith has started charging for computer cluster printing. I'm shocked there wasn't any rioting.
My sandwich and chocolate chip cookie combination at Vermont Country Deli is no longer $6.66 meal of the beast. Very sad. On the other hand, very annoyed, since all of their prices have gone up. Not that I've been buying lunch that often anymore.
Had an amusing exchange with Bosslady outside of work as I was heading out today, where she asked me if I valued my brains. Not seeing where that was going I answered "Most days." She then asked me why I don't wear a bike helmet. I didn't really feel like getting into a whole discourse about risk right then, so I gave her the short short answer (yes, yes, really I do know better). Come to think of it I should have told her the story of the last time someone said something about my lack of helmet, but was being really obnoxious about it, and my reply was "I don't need a helmet - I'VE GOT JEEEEEEEEEEESUS!" She would have laughed. And told me to wear one anyway. :)
Beat the rain home, marvelling at the fact that my bike seat no longer squeaks, due to a liberal application of the office can of WD40. And as I was pedaling up the driveway, I made the acquaintance of the prettiest little hoppy toad you ever saw. Blessings come in all forms.
I dreamed it snowed last night, like a good six inches, and sundart woke me up to insist we go play in it right then before everyone woke up and we had to go to work or snowblow or something. So we did, and we had a snowball fight, and discovered that the snow covering the driveway made a really good Slip n Slide, so we were sliding down the driveway penguin style on our tummies over and over again before Clare (our downstairs neighbor) poked her head out the window to tell us we were being too loud and we were waking up her geraniums, and now they were making a terrific racket in her living room. As soon as she did that, all the snow melted and I woke up, realizing the racket made by the mad geraniums was actually my alarm clock.
Now to figure out what the fuck to make the rest of the ho(mo)s for dinner. Fuck it. I might just order pizza, as I'm so not up to cooking right now. bleh. Rather curl up and finish up the other smutty story I was working on, or start the only-somewhat-smutty story I've been procrastinating from starting all week. Not enough hours in my evenings, although lo and behold, another weekend is bearing down upon us at a fantastic clip. This living in fast-forward mode has really got to stop.
September, compared to August (boo, hiss) is always a good month for me, and due to god knows how long of being in school, has always signified that something new and different is beginning. Before I went to college, this was always ushered in by the smell of new notebooks and paper, and the obligatory superboring shopping trip for "school clothes." These days the signs of September are a bit more subtle, a couple of trees here and there jumping the gun and shedding leaves already, the smell of woodsmoke as people begin to fend off chilly nights, and the sweet lipped, swivel-hipped crop of dewy eyed froshlings inhabiting Smith, smiling at me as I bike furiously through campus on my way home. Damn, but this year's first years are tasty. And so young... I look at them and wonder if I was ever that young, even seven years ago when I started this whole college problem... Of course I remember thinking the same thing in high school when I'd see a class of second graders and think, damn, I was that tiny once upon a time, huh?
September's also a bit of a reminder that time and people are changing and flowing around me. I don't know how or where I constantly get this idea that things come to a standstill when I turn my back and that they will be exactly the same when I turn around. I find myself thinking about UNIS lately, wondering what's up there, if Ms. Knox is still grading high for finding sexual imagery in Madame Bovary and writing in stripteases and "real French kissing" into her productions of Shakespeare, or if her constant impersonations of a chimney have finally caught up with her. Sometimes I miss it there, as it probably was the last place I really knew who the hell I was, even if I wasn't happy with that all the time. Hmm. Still plan to stop by at some point, as I have some tapes in the Media Lab that I want to copy. Plays mostly, the ones I teched for. None of the ones I was actually in (cringe) except for The Wicked Lord and the Old Lady in 7th grade, and that's because that play was just friggin ridiculous. And it also features a teensy
harinezumi in a gi. :)I had a quasi UNIS dream a couple of nights ago come to think of it. I was trying to get into this seminar type thing at the UN and I kept having to go though all of these security checks, and they kept trying to throw me out, and I'd have to stand there and explain that no, I really did belong there, I was just lost and didn't know where the hell the seminar was. Finally one of my old French teachers, Monsieur Basséne, whose favorite method of teasing me was to pronounce my name starting with whatever vowel sounds he could think of (Endee, Ondee, Indee, Aindee, Undee - you get the picture) happened to walk by and he was able to tell me where the flying fuck this seminar was, but he insisted on taking me to get some coffee, saying that I needed it after being harassed by so many security guards.
But I digress. September. New Beginnings. Blah blah de blah de blah.
I nipped into Smith's registrar's office to figure out what the first part of Step B is in the whole steal-underpants->?->profit cha cha of returning in the Spring is. Also picked up a course catelog, and am already mad about the fact that several of the classes I want to take aren't available next semester. Damn budget cuts. Probably this weekend will be devoted to girding my loins and plunging into the beurocratic purgatory that is Readmission Paperwork. Eep.
In other, non school related news, September also inaugurated several irritating price hikes. The PVTA is now a dollar year round per ride without a valid school ID. This is only a minor annoyance, as I still have one from UMass. Still. Ouch.
Smith has started charging for computer cluster printing. I'm shocked there wasn't any rioting.
My sandwich and chocolate chip cookie combination at Vermont Country Deli is no longer $6.66 meal of the beast. Very sad. On the other hand, very annoyed, since all of their prices have gone up. Not that I've been buying lunch that often anymore.
Had an amusing exchange with Bosslady outside of work as I was heading out today, where she asked me if I valued my brains. Not seeing where that was going I answered "Most days." She then asked me why I don't wear a bike helmet. I didn't really feel like getting into a whole discourse about risk right then, so I gave her the short short answer (yes, yes, really I do know better). Come to think of it I should have told her the story of the last time someone said something about my lack of helmet, but was being really obnoxious about it, and my reply was "I don't need a helmet - I'VE GOT JEEEEEEEEEEESUS!" She would have laughed. And told me to wear one anyway. :)
Beat the rain home, marvelling at the fact that my bike seat no longer squeaks, due to a liberal application of the office can of WD40. And as I was pedaling up the driveway, I made the acquaintance of the prettiest little hoppy toad you ever saw. Blessings come in all forms.
I dreamed it snowed last night, like a good six inches, and sundart woke me up to insist we go play in it right then before everyone woke up and we had to go to work or snowblow or something. So we did, and we had a snowball fight, and discovered that the snow covering the driveway made a really good Slip n Slide, so we were sliding down the driveway penguin style on our tummies over and over again before Clare (our downstairs neighbor) poked her head out the window to tell us we were being too loud and we were waking up her geraniums, and now they were making a terrific racket in her living room. As soon as she did that, all the snow melted and I woke up, realizing the racket made by the mad geraniums was actually my alarm clock.
Now to figure out what the fuck to make the rest of the ho(mo)s for dinner. Fuck it. I might just order pizza, as I'm so not up to cooking right now. bleh. Rather curl up and finish up the other smutty story I was working on, or start the only-somewhat-smutty story I've been procrastinating from starting all week. Not enough hours in my evenings, although lo and behold, another weekend is bearing down upon us at a fantastic clip. This living in fast-forward mode has really got to stop.
