Tuesday, January 29, 2008
I mean it. I'm sorry, but I have to concentrate on Tech week for this play I'm in.
Yeah...but I promise I'll have LOTS to say when this is all over (and I really mean that, too, I'm keeping a list.*)
But for now, buh bye.
*Yeah, I just admitted, once again, that I am a total nerd.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Anyway. People use 'pit' in lots of strange ways. The pit of my stomach. The bottomless pit. Brad Pitt. The pit of a fruit.
That's about it.
So, who wants to know what classes I'm taking this semester?!?!
- Film 388: Major Filmmakers: Antonioni and Bergman
- Theater 262: Costume Design I
- Music 902: Voice lessons
- Physical Education 050: Principles of Fitness and Wellness
- Math 104: Statistical Methods
- First Year Seminar 250: Wearing the Uniform
Wow...I ranked them without even noticing. My favorite is one, and my least favorite...well, you get the idea. Anyway, they're great. And there's not much more I can say in case my professors are on the prowl.
I must say that my Antonioni and Bergman class is quite possibly the most dynamic, heart-racingly thrilling class I've taken. This is probably due to the fact that it's an elective, so everyone who's taking it wants to...take it. We saw The Seventh Seal last week (a chick flick about furry little LA water park animals...only not...) and L'avventura (which is, like, fashion conscious and more like The Rules of the Game than anything I've seen before).
Yeah, so...watch them. But I'd def recommend The Seventh Seal, especially if you're a Woody Allen fan. Then you must watch the latter's Love and Death.
More on classes later...I have to apply for summer internships.
Oh, but first...I titled this blog because I didn't remember writing a Blood Will be Spilt part I, but the little thingy that fills in your words for you when you type did.
I hope you know what I'm talking about.
Quote of the day:
Jarred (my director): So, as you can see, this script still has a lot of kinks I need to work out.
Me: Yeah, it's pretty kinky.
Saturday, January 19, 2008
And as much as I really want to stop writing right now, and possibly as much as you want me to stop writing right now, I really must continue or give in to that mountain of poisonous lasagna that some call homework.
Oh, yeah, I'd like to thank Anthony for his delightfully serious guest blog. THE REST OF YOU SHOULD ALL BE ASHAMED!!! Especially you,
Kim, as I have reason to believe you have not read my blog in weeks. And if that is indeed the case, that last sentence was pointless, but, you know...
PEOPLE! GUEST BLOG! Maybe if you guys write enough shit I won't have to try to be funny ever again.
So I can have a more diverse selection of writings for people's browsing pleasure. Especially in this voluptuous digital age.
Yes, voluptuous. Thought it was a stupid adjective last time, too, didn't you?
Here's a list of things on my desk (I'm really getting desperate, can you tell?):
- Shampoo (Did you know shampoo comes from the Hindi fasdfpoje;loikhjfoijuramampanaluke? Not really, but it comes from the Hindi something or other.
- Conditioner!!! (one bottle, from the English 'to condition'.)
- A book called Brooklyn.
- A notebook for class
- twelve folders, of different colors and featuring different kittens.
- A protein drink (in a glass, not just in lake form on my desk)
- A box of contact stuff
- A hairbrush
- A cellphone (turned off, so I can isolate myself in the hopes of getting stuff done. Pretty unlikely, seeing as I spent the last two hours taking a nap and am likely to spend the next two...collecting tea strainers.
- a hair dryer
- a picture of Monet.
- A picture of my eldest cat. (try to guess where I already mentioned this!)
- post-its, upside down.
- ipod charger
- Ricola wrapper, empty (like my heart)
- Shampoo bottle #2, full (like my stomach)
- Bulletin board
- Tissue box devoid of tissues, now used as temporary housing for dirty dishes.
- Lavender pillow.
I saw The Little Mermaid with Anthony and Lauren last night. I haven't seen it since I was about 8, but I still think it strange that I managed to forget the scene where Ursula like, turns into a giant bobo doll and makes the waves move with her giant trident.
Heh. More on that later.
P.S. spell check tried to make me change bobo to boob. Wouldn't be the wrong choice, really, considering the context.
P.P.S. Please comment with a list of whatever's on YOUR desk.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
No, the topic of today's post is an observation of culture - or lack thereof. Some will remember a few months back, when Newsweek magazine did a cover article on Amazon.com. More specifically, the subject was Amazon’s newest device that was about to be unleashed unto world – the Kindle, the company’s version of the eBook. In bold, red letters on the front of the magazine, ominous words stared back at me, challenging the very foundations of the reality I knew: Reinventing the Book.
Truly, this has to be the greatest insight into contemporary Western life as we know it. And what a cruel, despicable observation it is! Think of it. We live in a society where the most basic, tangible foundation of knowledge, the written page, is under siege for “improvement.” How does one improve the perfect invention ever to grace the face of this earth? Its design is flawless; it requires no handbook to operate; it’s extremely easy to store; it’s the original ultraportable device; not to mention that it has made possible for the common man to access knowledge, the greatest treasure in all of history.
But now, we are told that this timeless object is in dire need of revamping. The insidious tentacles of the technological age have reached the last bastion of a long-forgotten way of life. We go to the supermarket, get some lettuce, tomatoes and other vegetables, go home and make ourselves a nice salad in the middle of December. But think of a time not too long ago – not a few hundred years past – when our ancestors had to harvest their own crops, keep their own livestock, survive by the plow and hammer. Now, the computers and airplanes, the light bulb and the motorcar, and a slew of other shiny metal contraptions are things that we consider to be normal necessities. In our lust for comfort, we have sacrificed what it truly means to be a part of this world.
The rape of the book by the digital age is the crowning achievement, in my mind, of our time. It is the final conquest that needed to be made, the final convenience, for the rabble of society to fully forget what they have lost. Now we can sit in our Starbucks, sipping on our grande peppermint cappuccinos with skim milk, listening to our iPods, watching Hondas and Toyotas speed past, and read Vanity Fair from our eBooks.
It’s disgusting. This fetish with the latest, newest, most cutting-edge materialistic trends is undeniably the root of many of society’s ills. The mantra is, “Whoever has the most toys, wins.” Our fascination with the question, “What shall I do today to buy more shit?” needs to be overcome by the infinitely more important question of, “What shall I do today to help my fellow man?”
Ayn Rand, in her magnum opus Atlas Shrugged, observed that the world was in need of selfishness to overcome the orgy of self-sacrifice. Now, I believe, the opposite is true.
Goddess help us.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
And how can you contest that?
In that light, watching Ingmar Bergman's The Seventh Seal was one of the fun things I've done since 2007.
Saturday, January 12, 2008
Then I saw the couch.
Had it always been this gray? My first thought echoed through my mind and hinted at a path of luminescent hilarity. I leaned closer and began peering. Yes, it was distinctly gray. Though originally as colorful as the English garden on which it was modeled, it now bears more of a resemblance to a bulging eye bag. My peering continued. The decaying flap of skin that was once the skirt of the chair is certainly a veritable shade of dust that even the shag-carpeted 70s would have considered passe. I peered at the couch and it peered back at me. We had a bona fide peering contest. Then I brushed my hand against its quivering, wrinkled surface and came away with a strip of cat fur that sat vertically in my hand like an anorexic Brownstone. I rolled it vigorously between my fingertips, wondering what would become of me. What would become of us all?
End of Part I (ie I'm frickin hungry and don't want to finish this crap right now)
Monday, January 7, 2008
- Dried fruit: apples, pineapples, and mangoes (the latter of which I had to take back to the store because they contained sulfur dioxide or some shit like that)
- Silent Cinema book (thanks, Anthony!)
- Datebook (which is surprisingly full considering I feel like nothing is going on in my life)
- Wednesday, January 9th!!! (of which only a select few Muhlenbergers know the significance)
- Flaky ears (apparently the shampoo at the hair salon gave me something akin to a chemical burn)
- Lack of sleep (from pillow friction against said flaky ears)
- Chocolate-covered blueberries (they speak for themselves)
- Maddie (once in person, once in my dreams)
- Love Actually