What insecurity is this?

I don't understand why I care so much. Why I want so much to please other people. And I've come to the conclusion that it can't be what they think of me . . . omission is rarely recognized. If I smile at someone & greet them cheerily, maybe shake their hand, they'd think well of me - & probably not even miss the hug I didn't give them.

I'm going back to TC today to see And Then There Were None. Basically Ten Little Indians. And what theatre department hasn't performed this show? In fact, about ten years ago, TC did it. But that's Mr. B. Anyway, I could go to see the show tonight & everyone would be happy to see me & talk about what's been going on. I don't have to go back & video tape it Saturday night just so I can give copies to the cast members & director who usually try so hard every year to scrape up a copy & almost never can. But I am. And today, as I walk up to the school full of people I know & people I don't, there is no real need for me to stop by Dunkin' Doughnuts & pick up 3 dozen doughnuts for the cast & crew. In fact, I'll be dropping them off with Mr. B., & they probably won't even know they're from me. And if he lets them know, only half of them even know who I am.

I don't understand my intense drive to please people. It's been an asset & a pain in the asset, but it'll always be there . . .

A day in the Theatre Major's life

I love the Center for the Arts. I love the people in it. I love the chemistry. I love the fact that someone is a theatre major is an excuse for so many oddities.

A few guys went strolling down the hall singing a beautifully harmonized Goodbye, My Coney Island Baby & they had a wonderful bass (I LOVE good basses).

A gentleman walked up behind someone at the box office, took the back of her head & recognizing the cue, she took control & there was stage combat fun that in any other building would call the attention of everyone around them.

Eric, with a few minutes in between classes, took the seat next to me as I was reading & held an imaginary wheel in front of him. I proceeded to drop my book in shock & scold, "Honey, slow down." Lindsay approached, we pulled over to pick her up & she asked where we were going. I said we were heading for "the clinic" & when she asked why, Eric & I in perfect unison, responded with, "We're getting an abortion." Which shocked the hell out of me, because I had a reason - I was reading a book about abortion . . . I guess the clinic tipped him off . . .

Love it.

Just a few seconds

There were a few seconds which rank right up there with the coolest in my life when I honestly though that Fresca glowed in the dark.

But really, the bottle was just next to my charging laptop which has a little green light on the side & when it hit the liquid in the Fresca bottle, it just lit up the whole thing. But the lights turned off, & I saw glow, I was pretty damn impressed.

That was nifty.

Bad Jokes

At lunch we had a discussion ABOUT bad jokes. Which led to the telling of many bad jokes. And I don't mean bad like, "What do you call a fish with no eyes - a fsh." (By the way, that joke actually makes people laugh if you do the sound effect right) I mean bad jokes like the offensive ones. So if you're easily offended, STOP READING NOW.

First we started with dead baby jokes.

What's red & yellow & squirming on the floor?
An inside out baby.

What's green & blue & at the bottom of the pool?
A baby with slashed floaties.

What's green & blue & floats at the top of the pool?
Floaties with slashed baby.

What's worse than finding 100 dead babies in a dumpster?
Finding one dead baby in 100 dumpsters.

What's red & white & at the top of a flagpole?
A baby that got shot out of a snow-blower.

How many babies does it take to paint a room?
Depends on how hard you throw them.

What's red & silver & running through the walls?
A baby with forks stuck in it. (WTF?)

What's funnier than a dead baby?
A dead baby in a clown costume.

What do you get a dead baby for Christmas?
A dead puppy.

And it went on like that. He just rattled them off. Then there were the racist jokes

What do you call 30 white men running down a hill? An avalanche.
What do you call 30 black men running down a hill? A mudslide.
What do you call 30 Mexican men running down a hill? A jail break.

Copper wire was invented by two jews fighting over a penny.

And more in that vein as well . . . then I decided to tell my joke that I'm never proud to tell, but that makes me chuckle every time without fail . . .

What's the opposite of Christopher Reeve? Christopher Walken.

I'll bring the world of surveys over here . . .

1. Name and middle name?
Ripley Morgan

2. What holiday is your birthday closest to?
How funny you should ask . . . Thanksgiving.

3. Favorite flavored Pie?
Flavoured? Umm . . . Pumpkin pie, I guess.

4. Does it bother you when someone says they will call you and they don't?
I hate the telephone & use it as little as possible, so no.

5. Are you allergic to anything?
No. Not that I know of.

6. Who was the last person that you kissed?
Um . . . never been kissed . . . although in a friendly way, that would be my bird. In a human way, that would be my mom. :)

7. When was the last time you went swimming?
August. And involuntarily might I add. Can't stand swimming. I don't like the water.

8. Do you like cheesecake?
Oh, yess.

9. How many of the U.S. states have you lived in?
One.

10. Have you traveled outside the country?
No.

11. Do you keep a planner or calendar with daily events?
No.

12. Does anyone like you?
Like a crush? Doubtful.

13. Do you have any strange pets?
No . . . unless one thinks a bird is strange.

14. What is your dream car?
cerulean mustang convertible.

15. What did you do today?
Read "How I Learned to Drive" & went to classes.

16. Are you bipolar?
No.

17. What is the main ringtone on your cell?
In the Islands it's a virgin mobile tone. kinda relaxing. LOL

18. Where would you want to go on a first date?
IDK . . . a show I guess. I really don't know though.

19. When is the last time you were hugged?
maybe a month ago . . .u

20. Has anyone ever sang or played for you personally?
HA! Yesterday, Jay went & got a bunch of vocalists to sing happy birthday to me. :)

21. How important is romance?
Pretty Important

22. Have you ever bungee jumped?
No.

23. Have you ever been white water rafting?
No, but I plan to.

24. Has anyone ten years older than you ever hit on you?
Yes. And at a wedding no less. We left prematurely.

25. Are you a cavity free kid?
Yes.

28. What is your favorite song at the moment?
I don't know.

29. What was the last movie you watched?
Hide & Seek.

30. Where was the last house you went besides your house?
My father's house.

31. Have you ever seriously vandalized someone elses property?
No.

32. Have you ever been punched?
Yes.

33. Whats the first thing you notice about the opposite sex?
If they have glasses. I don't know why. I don't find glasses or lack thereof particularly attractive . . . I just tend to notice.

34. Can you open a beer bottle with a body part other than your hand?
. . . nnno . . .


35. What do you usually order from Olive Garden?
I don't eat at olive garden.

36. Say something totally random about yourself?
I have a crush on the character Hodges in CSI. NO IDEA WHY. And it's a shame I had to get a crush on the guy with like the smallest part in the show.

37. Do you have an mp3 player?
Yes.

38. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?
I've been told I look like Bebe Newirth . . . but been told more often that I look like Idina Menzel.

39. Do you have freckles?
No.

40. Are you comfortable with your height?
Yes.

41. Do you love someone?
Not in a romantic way, but a few people, yes.

42. How tall are you?
5'7"

43. Do you speak any other language other than English?
No . . . working on French, but I haven't had a lot of time lately.

44. How do you like your steak cooked?
RARE. Big time.

45. Has anyone you were really close to passed away?
Not REALLY close to . . . yet. *knocks on nearby wodden object*

46. Do you watch MTV?
No.

47. What is something that really annoys you?
The sound of the television when I'm not watching. ANd sometimes when i am (I watch wheel of fortune on mute)

49. What is the best thing in your refrigerator right now?
A head of lettuce.

50. When is the last time you had professional pictures taken?
Junior year pictures.

51. Do you have a crush on someone?
Yes.

52. Does that person like you back?
Dunno.

53. Do you drive when you go on long trips?
Yes. Especially since I need hours. :)

54. Whats the latest you have ever stayed out?
idk . . .10 maybe.

55. Have you ever thought that you were honestly going to die?
Yes.

56. Were you ever rushed by an ambulance into the emergency room?
Yes.

57. Have you broken a bone or had stitches?
Little of both. :)

58. Anyone on your mind right now?
Yes . . . aforementioned crush.

59. What color is your hair?
brown.

60. What did you do last night?
Opened presents.

61. What pissed you off last?
Reading "How I learned to Drive." Uncle Peck really was a sick fuck.

62. Any regrets?
Oh, plenty.

63. Who did you last go to dinner with?
Lindsay.

64. Who last kissed you?
No one.

65. What is your faorite color?
Blue or grey.

66. Anyone ever threaten to kill you?
Not seriously, but yes.

67. Favorite thing to do in the summer?
Stay inside.

68. Your last conquered fear?
Crowds . . . every now & then there's a bit of conquering for some events . . . the initial fear, however, doesn't seem to go away.

69. If you could change one thing what would it be?
My past.

70. What did you think of the survey?
Eh, gave me something to fill a post

I Love This . . . if you haven't read it before, read it now.

Man Of Steel, Woman of Kleenex

He's faster than a speeding bullet. He's more powerful than a locomotive. He's able to leap tall buildings at a single bound. Why can't he get a girl?

At the ripe old age of thirty-one (*Superman first appeared in Action Comics, June 1938*), Kal-El (alias Superman, alias Clark Kent) is still unmarried. Almost certainly he is still a virgin. This is a serious matter. The species itself is in danger!

An unwed Superman is a mobile Superman. Thus it has been alleged that those who chronicle the Man of Steel's adventures are responsible for his condition. But the cartoonists are not to blame.

Nor is Superman handicapped by psychological problems.

Granted that the poor oaf is not entirely sane. How could he be? He is an orphan, a refugee, and an alien. His homeland no longer exists in any form, save for gigatons upon gigatons of dangerous, prettily colored rocks.

As a child and young adult, Kal-El must have been hard put to find an adequate father-figure. What human could control his antisocial behavior? What human would dare try to punish him? His actual, highly social behavior during this period indicates an inhuman self-restraint.

What wonder if Superman drifted gradually into schizophrenia? Torn between his human and kryptonian identities, he chose to be both, keeping his split personalities rigidly separate. A psychotic desperation is evident in his defense of his "secret identity."

But Superman's sex problems are strictly physiological, and quite real.

The purpose of this article is to point out some medical drawbacks to being a kryptonian among human beings, and to suggest possible solutions. The kryptonian humanoid must not be allowed to go the way of the pterodactyl and the passenger pigeon.

---

I

What turns on a kryptonian?

Superman is an alien, an extraterrestrial. His humanoid frame is doubtless the result of parallel evolution, as the marsupials of Australia resemble their mammalian counterparts. A specific niche in the ecology calls for a certain shape, a certain size, certain capabilities, certain eating habits.

Be not deceived by appearances. Superman is no relative to homo sapiens.

What arouses Kal-El's mating urge? Did kryptonian women carry some subtle mating cue at appropriate times of the year? Whatever it is, Lois Lane probably didn't have it. We may speculate that she smells wrong, less like a kryptonian woman than like a terrestrial monkey. A mating between Superman and Lois Lane would feel like sodomy-and would be, of course, by church and common law.

---

II

Assume a mating between Superman and a human woman designated LL for convenience.

Either Superman has gone completely schizo and believes himself to be Clark Kent; or he knows what he's doing, but no longer gives a damn. Thirty-one years is a long time. For Superman it has been even longer. He has X-ray vision; he knows just what he's missing. (*One should not think of Superman as a Peeping Tom. A biological ability must be used. As a child Superman may never have known that things had surfaces, until he learned to suppress his X-ray vision. If millions of people tend shamelessly to wear clothing with no lead in the weave, that is hardly Superman's fault.*)

The problem is this. Electroencephalograms taken of men and women during sexual intercourse show that orgasm resembles "a kind of pleasurable epileptic attack." One loses control over one's muscles.

Superman has been known to leave his fingerprints in steel and in hardened concrete, accidentally. What would he do to the woman in his arms during what amounts to an epileptic fit?

---

III

Consider the driving urge between a man and a woman, the monomaniacal urge to achieve greater and greater penetration. Remember also that we are dealing with kryptonian muscles.

Superman would literally crush LL's body in his arms, while simultaneously ripping her open from crotch to sternum, gutting her like a trout.

---

IV

Lastly, he'd blow off the top of her head.

Ejaculation of semen is entirely involuntary in the human male, and in all other forms of terrestrial life. It would be unreasonable to assume otherwise for a kryptonian. But with kryptonian muscles behind it, Kal-El's semen would emerge with the muzzle velocity of a machine gun bullet. (*One can imagine that the Kent home in Smallville was riddled with holes during Superboy's puberty. And why did Lana Lang never notice that?*)

In view of the foregoing, normal sex is impossible between LL and Superman.

Artificial insemination may give us better results.

---

V

First we must collect the semen. The globules will emerge at transsonic speeds. Superman must first ejaculate, then fly frantically after the stuff to catch it in a test tube. We assume that he is on the Moon, both for privacy and to prevent the semen from exploding into vapor on hitting the air at such speeds.

He can catch the semen, of course, before it evaporates in vacuum. He's faster than a speeding bullet.

But can he keep it?

All known forms of kryptonian life have superpowers. The same must hold true of living kryptonian sperm. We may reasonably assume that kryptonian sperm are vulnerable only to starvation and to green kryptonite; that they can travel with equal ease through water, air, vacuum, glass, brick, boiling steel, solid steel, liquid helium, or the core of a star; and that they are capable of translight velocities.

What kind of a test tube will hold such beasties?

Kryptonian sperm and their unusual powers will give us further trouble. For the moment we will assume (because we must) that they tend to stay in the seminal fluid, which tends to stay in a simple glass tube. Thus Superman and LL can perform artificial insemination.

At least there will be another generation of kryptonians.

Or will there?

---

VI

A ripened but unfertilized egg leaves LL's ovary, begins its voyage down her Fallopian tube.

Some time later, tens of millions of sperm, released from a test tube, begin their own voyage up LL's Fallopian tube.

The magic moment approaches...

Can human breed with kryptonian? Do we even use the same genetic code? On the face of it, LL could more easily breed with an ear of corn than with Kal-El. But coincidence does happen. If the genes match...

One sperm arrives before the others. It penetrates the egg, forms a lump on it's surface, the cell wall now thickens to prevent other sperm From entering. Within the now-fertilized egg, changes take place...

And ten million kryptonian sperm arrive slightly late.

Were they human sperm, they would be out of luck. But these tiny blind things are more powerful than a locomotive. A thickened cell wall won't stop them. They will *all* enter the egg, obliterating it entirely in an orgy of microscopic gang rape. So much for artificial insemination.

But LL's problems are just beginning.

---

VII

Within her body there are still tens of millions of frustrated kryptonian sperm. The single egg is now too diffuse to be a target. The sperm scatter.

They scatter without regard to what is in their path. They leave curved channels, microscopically small. Presently all will have found their way to the open air.

That leaves LL with several million microscopic perforations all leading deep into her abdomen. Most of the channels will intersect one or more loops of intestine.

Peritonitis is inevitable. LL becomes desperately ill.

Meanwhile, tens of millions of sperm swarm in the air over Metropolis.

---

VIII

This is more serious than it looks.

Consider: these sperm are virtually indestructible. Within days or weeks they will die for lack of nourishment. Meanwhile they cannot be affected by heat, cold, vacuum, toxins, or anything short of green kryptonite. (*And other forms of kryptonite. For instance, there are chunks of red kryptonite that make giants of kryptonians. Imagine ten million earthworm size spermatozoa swarming over a Metropolis beach, diving to fertilize the beach balls... but I digress.*) There they are, minuscule but dangerous; for each has supernormal powers.

Metropolis is shaken by tiny sonic booms. Wormholes, charred by meteoric heat, sprout magically in all kinds of things: plate glass, masonry, antique ceramics, electric mixers, wood, household pets, and citizens. Some of the sperm will crack lightspeed. The Metropolis night comes alive with a network of narrow, eerie blue lines of Cherenkov radiation.

And women whom Superman has never met find themselves in a delicate condition.

Consider: LL won't get pregnant because there were too many of the blind mindless beasts. But whenever one sperm approaches an unfertilized human egg in its panic flight, it will attack.

How close is close enough? A few centimeters? Are sperm attracted by chemical cues? It seems likely. Metropolis had a population of millions; and kryptonian sperm could travel a long and crooked path, billions of miles, before it gives up and dies.

Several thousand blessed events seem not unlikely. (*If the pubescent Superboy plays with himself, we have the same problem over Smallville.*)

Several thousand lawsuits would follow. Not that Superman can't afford to pay. There's a trick where you squeeze a lump of coal into its allotropic diamond form...

---

IX

The above analysis gives us part of the answer. In our experiment in artificial insemination, we must use a single sperm. This presents no difficulty. Superman may use his microscopic vision and a pair of tiny tweezers to pluck a sperm from the swarm.

---

X

In its eagerness the single sperm may crash through LL's abdomen at transsonic speeds, wreaking havoc. Is there any way to slow it down?

There is. We can expose it to gold kryptonite.

Gold kryptonite, we remember, robs a kryptonian of all of his supernormal powers, permanently. Were we to expose Superman himself to gold kryptonite, we would solve all his sex problems, but he would be Clark Kent forever. We may regard this solution as somewhat drastic.

But we can expose the test tube of seminal fluid to gold kryptonite, then use standard techniques for artificial insemination.

By any of these methods we can get LL pregnant, without killing her. Are we out of the woods yet?

---

XI

Though exposed to gold kryptonite, the sperm still carries kryptonian genes. If these are recessive, then LL carries a developing human foetus. There will be no more Supermen; but at least we need not worry about the mother's health.

But if some or all of the kryptonian genes are dominant...

Can the infant use his X-ray vision before birth? After all, with such a power he can probably see through his own closed eyelids. That would leave LL sterile. If the kid starts using heat vision, things get even worse.

But when he starts to kick, it's all over. He will kick his way out into open air, killing himself and his mother.

---

XII

Is there a solution?

There are several. Each has drawbacks.

We can make LL wear a kryptonite (*For our purposes, all forms of kryptonite are available in unlimited quantities. It has been estimated, from the startling tonnage of kryptonite fallen to Earth since the explosion of Krypton, that the planet must have outweighed our entire solar system. Doubtless the "planet" Krypton was a cooling black dwarf star, one of a binary pair, the other member being a red giant.*) belt around her waist. But too little kryptonite may allow the child to damage her, while too much may damage or kill the child. Intermediate amounts may do both! And there is no safe way to experiment.

A better solution is to find a host-mother.

We have not yet considered the existence of a Supergirl. (*She can't mate with Superman because she's his first cousin. And only a cad would suggest differently.*) She could carry the child without harm. But Supergirl has a secret identity, and her secret identity is no more married than Supergirl herself. If she turned up pregnant, she would probably be thrown out of school.

A better solution may be to implant the growing foetus in Superman himself. There are places in a man's abdomen where a foetus could draw adequate nourishment, growing as a parasite, and where it would not cause undue harm to surrounding organs. Presumably Clark Kent can take a leave of absence more easily than Supergirl's schoolgirl alter ego.

When the time comes, the child would be removed by Caesarian section. It would have to be removed early, but there would be no problem with incubators as long as it was fed. I leave the problem of cutting through Superman's invulnerable skin as an exercise for the alert reader.

The mind boggles at the image of a pregnant Superman cruising the skies of Metropolis. Batman would refuse to be seen with him; strange new jokes would circulate the prisons...and the race of Krypton would be safe at last.

Birthday Spirit

I have a spot in the Center for the Arts where I sit when I'm not in class. When Jay (the theatre department chair) found out that it was my birthday, he went & got a group of vocalists & brought them over to sing Happy Birthday to me. Gotta love Jay.

My birthday gifts were a luxuriously soft robe & a Towson University hoodie. Sybil gave me a $100 visa gift card.


I'm watching the Big Bang Theory. If you don't know it, you NEED to watch it. That is, if you're a geek like me. It's AWESOME

"Oh gravity thou art a heartless bitch"

A Slow Start to my Birthday

With the internet, there's notification everywhere. Myspace, facebook, message boards, what have you. Half the planet knows it's my birthday today. My mother is the only one who has brought it up. I got a "Happy Birthday" early this morning, made my way to school & haven't heard anything since. I keep checking the date . . .

Usually, I'm not too upset when this kind of thing happens on my birthday - but it's kind of a big one . . . 18 is big . . . right? I'm an adult now . . . (& frighteningly enough, I feel no different)

Not a word from anyone . . . even people I know for a fact know it's my birthday. A friend told me to meet her so she could give me a cheesecake for my birthday, but didn't say the words, "Happy Birthday." My father emailed me this morning with a bunch of tasks he wanted me to do. Not a word about my birthday.

I had lunch in the Glen Dining Hall for lunch today & I just LOVE the sign they had up explaining why all the plates & utensils were plastic today:

"The dish machine booster heater has blown up. Paper products will be used until it can be repaired. We apologize for any inconvenience. Thank You."

Half & Half

I had a little bit of both today. that would be the good & the bad. My father's standard yelling was a must, but I DID come home today & here I lie in my almost comfy bed - er . . . sofa - happy as a very content clam. But that's just a spoiler to my day, letting the world know I survived without ripping out my own heart & force-feeding it to the wretched people I had to spend this weekend with.

Since bad cannot exist without good, my father sure has his moments. We laughed inappropriately during the church service (c'mon I had to inherit some of his rudeness) that we were only attending because Tara was a big part of it.

Then we all went to breakfast & my father got the stupidest idea I've ever heard in my life. Not because it would never work, but because it was just stupid. He thought it would be endlessly amusing to shake the half & half until half of it (the cream half) turned into butter. Excuse me, but what the hell? Who DOES that? Well, it caught on & the five of us sat there shaking the creamer & hiding it when the waitress walked by & making inappropriate breakfast table jokes about how wrong it looked to shake it under the table. My father & I were the only ones who kept shaking after we left & into the afternoon. He got way too excited when I got a chunk in mine. It was pretty funny.

Then I came here to an empty house & while I've been feeling very alone, I still dissolved into tears of relief when I put down my bags in my home.

I'm home.

A Very Happy Unbirthday to Me!

Thank God I don't have to spend my birthday here . . . but while I'm here, there was a bit of a celebration in recognition & to frame the tradition of gift giving on such an occasion. The two girls, Tara & Maggie are under the impression that I am a girl . . . which in the biological sense is true . . . but I always get jewelry or handbags from them. A hideous orange shawl with random gold threads for accent. This year, Maggie got me a diamond & topaz ring. Very pretty. Not something I'll go through the trouble of wearing too often . . . I always feel bad when I get gifts I know I won't make too much use out of . . . people put thought & money into these things & gratitude is all they're good for. Tara got me opal earrings. I wear earrings . . . they're usually on the quirky side as opposed to pretty . . . but this is one of those things that the concept of gifts is really great for. They're very nice, I'll wear them, I'll enjoy having them. But I wouldn't buy them.

Flynn got my a cheap plastic gaudy picture frame. But I can't blame him. He could care less about my existence. And isn't really connected to me closely enough to want to spend anything more than a nickel on me. And this frame looked like it cost $1 . . . so I got pretty nice treatment from him.

My father got me video editing software. Kickass. Right now we're having issues with it . . . won't recognize the video I've been dying to make into a DVD for a while. So we're trying to work with that . . . we have a theory . . . & we won't know if it will work until it's finished doing what it's doing . . . which should be some ridiculously long time from now . . . so I came to post . . .

Can't wait to go home tomorrow.

Leftovers

Ah, the morning after.

Despite the famous effects of turkey, I drifted off on a bunk beneath a sick child breathing stiltedly (which for the record, I have been quoted saying is the most disgusting sound humans have ever known) around 11 PM & woke up at 7 AM with a full bladder. After I had been up for a few minutes, my father took me out with him to get the car fixed. We dropped off the car & walked to Wal-Mart. On black Friday . . .

Luckily, the crowds were minimal (for black Friday) & we wandered around, not really shopping - just wasting time. My father's birthday was on the 9th, so I had gotten him a gift & was giving him the gift this weekend. He'd already had it. So I had him pick out a movie & he did & I bought it for him. But once I had something in my hands, I was hopeless. I grabbed a bird treat for Niles. It is after all the season of thanksgiving. He should have a feast of nice fattening seeds. Then I grabbed little decorative bags for the candy Brian & my mother & I make traditionally every year. Every year, my mother complains that I go too deep into it, & spend too much time & money on presentation. So the few extra dollars for bags & icing, I'll spend from my own wallet & when she's not looking. And the few extra hours of work that I put into it, I'll do after she's gone to bed. She feels recruited I guess . . .

Then we went into the book section & my father left to go clean his glasses in the bathroom which turned out to be closed for cleaning & after waiting a considerable amount of time, he started yelling about what kind of slack ass takes more than half an hour to clean a damn bathroom. I don't know if he was trying to get someone's attention about it or if he doesn't know how loud he gets . . . anyway, he left me in the book section. Oops. I took a moment for self examination, realizing that I have knitting to do, other reading to do, schoolwork to do, & a world of other things. I have no time for ANOTHER book. So, with that in mind, I only got two books. One of which I started when we returned to the mechanic's & really hits the ground running. It's called "The Doctor's Wife" & the picture on the cover was what attracted me to it on the shelf, the description of "psychological thriller" by the Boston Globe was what made me pick it up & read the back & I read a few lines & was sold. I also got The Cell by Stephen King. Simply because it looked nifty, I haven't read it, & I trust the author not to disappoint.

So, back at my father's house, I count the hours . . . tomorrow we'll be celebrating my birthday (that is on Monday) & Sunday, we'll go see Tara lead the church service & by the time that is over & we settle here for a bit, I'll be headed home . . . then i have to finish those elevations for design class . . .

But at least in the face of all this, I've resolved to take a vacation from my diet. Yumm . . . pumpkin pie. Sweet potatoes. Mashed potatoes. And corn. I wasn't allowed to have corn on the diet . . . odd . . . but I had some last night . . .

Ugh.

Umm . . . I just saw a bowflex commercial, advertising "the body of your dreams." I don't know about anyone else, but I am NOT dreaming about guys with comic book hero cuts that almost take away from their humanity. My first crush as a child was Lumiere. That's right, the candlestick. That's got to say something about my taste in guys (which I've learned is a little different than . . . ummm . . . everyone else's). I think it's a personality thing . . . anyone so vain as to make themselves look like that is too insecure. Or arrogant . . . oddly enough, both sides of that spectrum fit. And anyone who honestly does enough to make themselves look like that without trying is gonna wear me out.

In case you can't tell, I put a lot of thought into this. Probably because I have so much spare time due to never having been in a relationship. Go figure.

Thanksgiving is turning out to be not so bad. I just need to learn not to be so thin-skinned. My father managed to find a way to insult my weight as it WAS since I've lost twenty pounds. And it somehow STILL got to me. I don't know why his opinion should matter so much to me . . .

I've been keeping myself together by hanging with Maggie & making her smile. She lives here. She needs it.

Happy Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving everyone. I'm watching the parade & all the musical numbered spliced in from broadway shows . . . the stage hands may be on strike, but that jazz hands are in it for the long haul.

Enjoy your thanksgiving everyone!

I'm Lonely

I do not feel at home here at my father's house. No one is online. Everyone is with their families for the Thanksgiving holiday & here I sit in a house brimming with painful memories, trying to blend into the background. I am out of contact with my friends who all have plans for the holiday. My mother is off to New Jersey in the morning to have a fabulous dinner with Brian's family - a wonderful bunch. I feel more at home with them than I do here . . . but I'm spending Christmas with them . . . & since my father can't have me for Christmas, he insists I be here for Thanksgiving.

I've been here for two hours & already, I am filled with a sadness I haven't known for a while now . . . & filled with a discomfort that is causing me physical pain. My stomach writhes & I think I'm coming very close to a migraine (& NOTHING helps my migraines except sleep & time).

Monday, I'm turning 18. I don't think I'll be coming back here any time soon. When my father finally let me leave, nothing legal changed. Legally, he still has custody. And he has dangled that threat over me regarding everything from grades to being left home alone. I know I could tell authorities that when I lived with him, he was abusive - but that was trouble we didn't want to go through & anger we didn't want to evoke from him. Monday, custody means nothing. All this time, I've felt an obligation to go with my father every time he told me to. I think I'll exercise some power next time.

Oh, & by the way . . . I got 4 inches cut off of my hair the other day & not a soul noticed. Not even my father.

I'm feeling terribly unloved.

Seven Things

a. Link to the person that tagged you and post the rules on your blog.
http://lemonade-and-kidneys.blogspot.com/

b. Share 7 random and or weird things about yourself.

c. Tag 7 random people participating in nablopomo at the end of your post and include links to their blogs.
I know no one . . . want to pick this up? Anyone? Going once, going twice . . .

d. Let each person know that they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
Hey - reading this? You've been tagged. Deal. ;)


Okay. Seven bits of randomness . . . I'll try to make them interesting.

1. My middle name is Morgan - it's a joke. Morgan means "born by the sea." I was a C-section. Get it?

2. I don't register thirst. I have to remind myself to drink during the day so I don't die.

3. I've died onstage three times. I've died offstage twice.

4. When I was born, the doctors were using an ambu bag to get me to breathe & popped my lung. They had to put me in a tank with pure oxygen being pumped into it til it healed.

5. My memory is such that once my director found out what I could do, he had me memorize the telltale heart in 4 days to perform as part of a halloween program. The performance was 16 minutes in length.

6. I'm descended from French royalty.

7. I'm a violent sleeper - I thrash & occasionally wake up with bruises or scratches.

Ah, the quiet . . .

Not for long though . . . Today is - as far as I'm concerned - my ONE day off this week. No more classes until Monday, sure. But this evening, I'm going to my father's house. Then I stay there until Sunday evening. I'll be trying to occupy myself with my knitting as often as possible . . . which will probably get me through a lot of knitting without me really thinking about it. So I guess technically, this is a good thing. The I'll come back here & watch the Simpsons which will be a Sideshow Bob episode featuring Kelsey Grammer as Sidshow Bob (as always) & David hyde Pierce & John Mohoney as Sideshow Bob's brother & father. Apparently they were all in town when KG was doing My Fair Lady, JM was doing Prelude to a Kiss, & DHP was doing Spamalot. So they went & recorded an Simpsons episode together.

The other night, Dusty came inching toward my salmon dinner & I was on the floor because Niles was in a little playpen thing I bought for him (that I don't think he particularly likes). SO Dusty tries many angles to get at me while I flail free limbs in his general direction keeping him at bay while I eat. Then he tries an angle that puts him right near Niles & I looked up just in time to see the cat - who barely notices the bird - get bitten on the nose by a determined little cockatiel who knows a predator when he sees one. Poor Dusty backed away, surprised & stopped trying to get my salmon.

God, I'm tired.

I'm afraid to fall asleep here because I may not wake up before my mother gets here . . . so I'm trying to occupy myself until she does. Everyone is off campus for vacation. They all hit the road as soon as their last class ended. So the place is deserted & my mother's running late. And I STILL haven't slept. I hear that after 72 hours of sleep deprivation, you qualify as clinically insane. So at ten to two, I dragged my clinically insane corpse of a body to Script Analysis class with a drink from Starbucks with 3 shots of espresso in it, in hopes to stay conscious for the entire class. I handed in my paper & we got into groups to work on some funky character map thing . . . that wound up looking like a really nifty city up on the white board with all the different colours. I giggled obnoxiously for a bit in tired stupor, much to the amusement of my group members. After my group went, I was gone so fast I don't remember the beginnings of dozing off. Someone shook me awake at the end of class proclaiming that I was an incredibly heavy sleeper (apparently, shaking me was by no means the first tactic to wake me). I stayed for a bit to officially apologize to the professor who was absolutely understanding because he & I talked yesterday (I didn't have him for a class, but he passed by me) about how I hadn't slept since Friday. Today before class he asked if I had gotten rest & I told him the heart wrenching tale of how I printed out my paper, closed the document without saving it, looked up MLA format for the title page & found that there isn't supposed to be a title page, just a heading at the top of the first page. And so for four lines of heading, I had to RETYPE the paper. I'm kind of an idiot.

So he was more than forgiving & thanked me for acknowledging it & apologizing for it. Although, he said he didn't notice because I always look so pensive - but I rarely bury my head in my chest to think . . . LOL

I was so tired (especially having JUST been asleep for 15 minutes) that I was shaking & I wanted to go crash on the couch out in front of the box office where I usually sit. But a few of my friends insisted that I eat - which I hadn't done all day - & took me to the dining hall, where in my state, I giggled at every new Christmas carol that came on over the speakers.

I'M SO TIRED. But my mother's coming soon . . . hopefully . . . then I shall go home & sleep until Thanksgiving. Maybe I'll sleep until my birthday. My father can have me over unconscious. Hey! I think I just solved my problem. No cheating on the diet, no temptation to do so, no digs at my figure from my father, & when I wake up, I'll be 18!!

Wish me a good night's sleep. And I wish everyone a marvelous holiday.

Creating for Godot

Oh god. After working on getting my stuff together for all my different class, I haven't slept since Friday night. as I speak, my last paper is inching from the printer. A paper for Script Analysis about how one would go about putting on a production of Waiting for Godot that would tear down predispositions & popular theories realting to who/what Godot is & forcing each audience memeber to come to their own personal conclusions.

My thoughts come out so condensed thatI'm always fleshing out papers & I sat adding extra words & deeper explanations of views until I reached the ABSOLUTE minimum. There was ONE word on the last line of the last page. Then I looked up MLA format & found out that you're not supposed to have a title page, you're supposed to just head the paper on the first page. So I am officially over the minimum requirement as 6 lines spilled over onto another page. Bravo, me. Now, if you don't mind, it's 10 am, my class is at 2pm, I haven't slept in three days, so . . .

zzzZZZzzzZZZzzzZZZzzz . . . .

Compulsion

First, before I complain about my situation, I must tell this story. My mother told me about this & it's just so charming. My mother was sitting at work, which happens to be relatively close to the light rail & occassionally she'll hear the magnified voices announcing the stop. The other day she heard what she was sure was the light rail megaphone voice. He said, "Hey, baby." Then she heard a female voice say, "Hey, hey." She turned around to look out the window & saw two light rails passing each other.

Against my better judgement, I am posting in my blog instead of writing my paper. But I have hit a road block. My mother is still at work, I am still in the hallway of the Center for the Arts & my laptop won't open the damn PDF files that I need to access to write & cite my paper!!! So, I'm stopping by for an update.

I got the papers done by their deadlines (so far) & have not even touched the design paper (although, that'll be the easiest of all & isn't due til the 10th). So I got pretty much everything done - but I have not slept since Friday night. It's MONDAY people. And that clarification is not for the time I've gone without sleep, but for the fact that it's a MONDAY! I feel bad enough on a Monday, I don't need to be so tired I'm giggling at gloves. And I still have to write my Script Analysis paper . . . which will be very difficult. Leave it to me to come up with complicated paper topics. And THEN leave it to me to sum up my views in two paragraphs & realize I have to stretch it to 5 pages.

So hopefully I'll get to sleep tonight . . . but I'm a slow & distracted worker. Cross your fingers for me.

OH MY GOD!!

Man oh man. I must be some weird sort of hybrid creature. Cause normally, you're a certain type of person & you click with that type of person. And your interests generally mesh. Cause you're the same type. Occasionally, there are subsets. Only some of the theatre people play D&D. That sort of thing. But apparently, I'm from different worlds. Every now & then, football really becomes interesting to the point where in any office building with middle-aged men with beer-bellies would be buzzing with excitement the next day. And I never hear a word. No one in my circle cares about football. But there was tonight the most bazaar almost-end to a football game ever.

If you didn't see it, the score fluctuated throughout the entire game (it was Ravens Vs. Browns) & when the score was 27 to 17 Browns, the Ravens managed to get a field goal, & with 26 seconds left, they got a touchdown & the extra point. Then, with THREE SECONDS LEFT, Cleveland attempted a field goal & the ball bounced off the left of the upright, & bounced off of the back bar back into the field of play. The Ravens LEFT THE FIELD, went to the locker rooms & started getting out of their uniforms before they decided to call the field goal GOOD & it went into overtime.

Then we lost. Damn. 4 losses in a row for the Ravens. That just sucks. But man oh man, that was incredible. People are gonna be talking tomorrow . . .

Still to Come

This weekend gets more & more packed as time goes by . . . because we realize that some things take longer than we expected. So, for the rest of this evening & for tomorrow (& if I can swing by Starbucks, probably quite a bit of time in between) this is what's on the to-do list.

1. Clean out my bag. I can't find anything in there.
2. KNIT
3. 2 page paper for acting class
4. 7 page paper for script analysis
5. 2 page paper for Philosophy
6. Writing, learning, & rehearsing a scene for acting class
7. Knit some more
8. Christmas shopping
9. Cut my hair (we're taking off about 4 inches)
10. Read Fortenbras & Joe Turner's Come & Gone
11. Get Niles a new perch - he chewed right through one of them.
12. Knit a little more
13. Give the cat a bath (should be fun)
14. Write up that damn design critique - although that can wait, & probably will
15.Wrap my father's birthday present
16.Make more of those mini-quiche things
17. Vacuum pack the meat, onions, & peppers
18. Knit
19. Check to see if my heart is still beating
20. Collapse

Holy F**k

Unwinding

Friday night. I'll never be able to see it as so many others seem to. Party night. Nope. Not me. I just want to unwind - relax, knowing that I've got two days ahead of me where, if I don't want to, I don't have to leave the house. And in some rare cases - I don't have to leave my bed (or rather - couch). Gotta love it. So, one of the flaws of sleeping downstairs is that if I want to get to sleep at 9, & my mother wants to hang around & watch more TV, I've got no choice. I have a few favourite TV shows, but other than that, I don't particularly like the television - the quality of the sound that comes from it gets to me somehow . . . it's kind of hard to describe, but I have to mute it during commercials - drives me nuts if it's on & I'm not engrossed.

One of the shows my mother watches is Ghost Whisperer. That show annoys me to no end, because I kind of like the concept & the plots grab me sometimes if I have to watch it, but I'm not particularly fond of the leading girl's acting & the way she passes on messages ticks me off. I understand that for television to be interesting, you can't just repeat the same thing over & over, but she does NOT accurately convey the messages from the ghosts to the people she's talking to. She changes the words around, sticks her own opinion in there & rewords things in a way that could change the meaning. If my dead family wants to talk to me, I want to know EXACTLY what they're saying.

And by the way, another of my mother's shows is Boston Legal, which I cannot watch. The camera-work actually gives me a headache. Have you noticed that? It's an interesting choice, they have the camera doing what our eyes do . . . it doesn't cut, it moves from person to person, it zooms in out out on little details, it follows people's hands, their gestures. It's an artistic choice, but I can't stand it.

So, I'm really embracing the unwindyness of Friday night . . . but I've got papers to write, plays to read, & a scene to write, learn, & rehearse. Oh yeah, & lots of knitting. My mother & Brian will be out shopping for people I'm knitting for.

The TV JUST got turned off . . . & the rest is silence.

Good night all.

Thought for the Day

Here's a thought for the day . . . I spent quite a bit of time this morning pondering this from the comfort of my bed.

Is the conscience a catalyst, a result, or an obstruction of Free Will?

Catalyst - The fact that we have a conscience could be what allows us to have free will - because without a conscience, free will would create chaos.

Result - If we have free will, we may choose that we don't want to do something because it is wrong. Conscience & free will are both logical creatures . . . our awareness of our free will could create the conscience. Guilt is a product of awareness.

Obstruction - We are smart enough to know when we want something. Fortunately (or unfortunately) we also know what it right & what is wrong. Our conscience may keep us from doing something that we want to do - that takes away from free will.

Can it be more than one? Can it be all three?

Book Meme

So I've been hanging around for a while here . . . I gave myself a little publicity on my myspace, but I doubt many people read this . . . I just pretend I have an audience . . . makes me feel important. But what makes me feel more important is discovering a meme (can't really say I was tagged . . . I was kind of standing in the middle of the field during a game of tag & didn't move when IT came a'runnin'.) BOOKS!!! I'm not a big reader, but I have my favoured authors. Childish though they may be . . . Piers Anthony is a favourite of mine, but most of his critics call his books childish & dumbed down. He had a learning disability as a child & I admire that he's managed to write as much as he has. Childish or not. I recommend "A Spell For Chameleon" if you're looking for a fast read. His plots are fascinating & they are filled with amusing little puns - because his books (in the Xanth series) are placed in a land of magic. And so they haven't developed much - because they've had no need to. Or rather, they've developed in different ways. No technology . . .

Anyway, here's the skeleton of the meme with my answers . . .

Total number of books I own:

Many, many, many. We have a library upstairs that when I moved in with my mother displayed old roses & pictures & things I'd made her as a child. I thought I'd only take up one shelf, but with her books & mine put together, there's no more room for displaying things. It's a real library now.

Last book I read:

Largo Desolato. I'd read it a while ago, but we wound up having to read it for Script Analysis class. I rarely get to read for recreation anymore. We had an interesting class the other day where we analyzed the action of the individual scenes & designed a roller coaster with turns & loops & corkscrews & drops based on the motion of the plot. My group went second & we started the precedent of acting out the roller coaster . . . after that, things got incredibly amusing.

Last book I bought:

I guess that would have to be Centaur Aisle . . . the next in the Xanth series. I'm moving oh so slowly & not so steadily through that series because I don't have time . . . but when I hit the end of one of the books, I jump on the next one pretty quickly.

5 Meaningful Books

1. Illusions By Richard Bach. Read it. In the first few chapters I felt very comfortable with the characters & felt that I was very much where they were. They accepted each other without knowing each other & it actually reflected what I feel I do when I go into a book. And the subject matter is fascinating & it's a very fast read. It is not considered to be of literary merit, but I think it is a wonderful piece of literature. I tried to insist my mother read it & there was a tag line on the cover that was something along the lines of 'the adventures of a wandering messiah' & my mother was put off because of the religious focus, but I didn't think of it as religious at all when I read it . . . & I may have been put off as well . . . A chliched metaphorical statement is brought back to its literal roots. Don't judge a book by its cover.

2. The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. Get out & read the book NOW!! I just went to a cattle call audition a while ago . . . they have started shooting the movie already!!! Peter Jackson is directing. It's going to be good! But not as good as the book, so hurry up & go read that. It's pretty emotionally jarring, but if you can push your way past the first chapter you should be fine.

3. Waiting for Godot by Samuel Beckett. It takes on new meaning every time you read it & that's the kind of book/play that really survives the test of time. You can think you have it all figured out & read it a year later & you'll have a new idea about everything. It's worth buying, reading, putting down for a long while, & then reading again.

4. Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen. An old favourite. I was just watching the movie the other day - you know the 6 hour long monstrosity - & looking up from my knitting with irritation every now & then because I can still remember when they skip a line that was in the book.

5. The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde. Gotta love Oscar Wilde. And that book is one of few that makes me laugh out loud. I did a scene from it for an exam a few years ago. Another favourite that I go back to & skim from time to time. Not lately though . . . I've gotta get back to reading before I forget how!

I know you said only five, but I have to tack on Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery" I was thinking of it the other day in regard to the stage hand strike. The point of the story is that we are blinded by tradition. We do things simply because we have always done them & we do not stop to question their morality because they are part of our lives. And it came up in my little head the other day because the producers were trying to remove rules that had lost practicality over time. And the beef is over the pay cut that their removal would cause. Also, it was a favourite performance of mine. I was in it about 4 years ago as Tessie Hutchinson. It was the first time someone called my performance phenomenal.

Okay . . . the rules as I understand them are to tag five bloggers. I don't really get any comments & don't know anyone who has a blogspot (apart from those of us who wrote our novels on here - but even I forgot about that until I signed up here & it said, "Hey, you can start a new blog if you want, but a Glimpse of Insanity is still floating around out there" & I doubt anyone uses theirs anymore) so anyone who reads this, pick it up . . . because I feel so alone!!!! Let me know if you read me. :)

The Stage Hand Strike

I may not be popular for my opinion, but I DO NOT support the stage hands. Negotiations were to edit rules in the contract that were old & had outgrown practicality. I'm sorry they'll have to adjust to live with $100,000 a year instead of $200,000 a year, but by my math, unless they pay $5,000 a month for rent, they'll be fine.

I find it contradictory that they should waste money coming in - the last figure I heard was $17 million a day - in protesting a drop in salary. What do you say, folks? Should we take the damages out of their salary every month until it's paid off?

And what about the people who've saved up for God knows how long to finally make it to NYC from wherever & see a Broadway show?

They do a lot for the shows & deserve respect, but they're losing mine. One illusion that people who strike seem to be under is that the power is all theirs. But a show could not go on in the actors went on strike. Or the musicians. Or the choreographers. Or even the audience. It's a team effort. Everyone is extremely important & everyone works very hard & everyone gets paid what they get paid (Even the audience who enjoys rather than works has . . . a negative salary) & we can't have this kind of nonsense in a magical place like Broadway every time someone decides they're getting a raw deal - compared to what they want or compared to what they used to get. Try comparing it to the winos on the street. Or the guy whose dream is to work on Broadway but waits tables now in two different restaurants just to pay the rent.

I say the students in the theatre department of Towson University go up to NYC for a week of strenuous training & run the damn shows. So that people haven't wasted hundreds in going to New York for shows that aren't running, so that money can keep coming in while the stage hands work out their beef & so that we can gain experience, make connections, & see how professional theatre works. Because anyone committed enough & who comes in bulk numbers could ease the pain being felt by this strike. They got together to cause chaos on Broadway, I'm sure if enough people banded together they could run Broadway. It's been done.

Recent Odditites

THE ODDITIES
The two nights I was home alone, I had the weirdest dreams . . . if you know me, you know my dreams are usually more morbid than odd . . . one was trying desperately to communicate with a person on the other side of a tunnel to get a message across before a bomb on my side went off.
The other was me waiting in this world that was all green & beautiful. green trees, green grass, everything was beautiful & lush. Between tree roots, I could see a swirl of orange. And if I kneeled down & dove headfirst into the orange swirl, I dove into an orange world. Dead grass, orange leaves hanging loosely onto the branches of trees & between the tree roots was the green world. It was the strangest feeling to dive headfirst - positioning myself upside down - & finding myself right side up in the other world.
And then I swam through very VERY cold water to collect shrimp next to an iceberg. But they were endangered or something, so it was illegal . . . so even though I was freezing, I had to rush before I got caught.

Here's an odd state of mind that I discover every now & then. You know when you think about a word too much, it loses meaning? Do that with your name. When you lose the meaning, you lose your identity to other humans for a minute & it gives sort of a primal feeling - like you're still an animal . . . new . . . unidentified. It's very interesting . . . if you hit it right, if you reach that state of mind, man oh man, you'll know it.

THE ANIMALS OF THE HOUSE
Simon (the creature somewhere between a rat & a raccoon that was living in our floor/ceiling that we decided to name Simon) has either died or left us. I haven't heard him scraping about & he hasn't woken me up with his constant chewing for quite some time. Dusty proved useless in the whole ordeal. He never even became curious about the scratching (of course, he remains frightened of the hamster & the bird). And we never could coax Simon out with the bait in our humane trap with the brand name "Havahart" . . . isn't that cute?
Niles often slicks his crest back & moves to bite at my mouth when I sing & we thought that was pretty funny . . . it was this running joke that he hated the sound of my voice. He'd sit on my shoulder & refuse to leave me - as long as I shut the hell up. But we discovered as I turned my head & smiled in his direction that he likes my teeth. For a minute, we thought it was a grooming thing & my mother realized it before I did. She roared with laughter in her realization & said, "Oh my God, he wants one!!" And that's what we decided. Because he tries everything to get it. He's gentle when he grooms, like with my hair, but he's definitely trying to snatch one of my teeth. I stopped smiling at him when he really hurt my gums with his sharp little beak.
Paul is as timid as ever. And I must admit - as cruel as it sounds - I get such a kick out of when I reach in to take him out for some exercise, he backs onto his hind legs & holds his front legs up in front of his face recoiling in utter horror & I can just hear him saying, "Oh God NO! Spare me!!" He hasn't learned yet that hamsters aren't on the South Beach Diet . . .

Productivity in Bulk

I was lucky enough to have the house to myself this past weekend. I don't work well with other people around. I tend to focus on THEM. And if they leave the room to go do something on their own - I'm lonely. But I only get lonely if they're right there leaving me alone . . . not when I've got no choice about being alone. So shoot me, I'm weird.

So without my mother in the house - she was off to spend Saturday in Philly & Sunday with Brian watching the Eagles game & the Ravens game - I had the house at my disposal. And any self-respecting college student would call up Jimmy with the fake I.D. & Michael with the kickass sound system & Chris who's in a band & have a huge party with drinking & loud obnoxious music & do a mad cleanup the next day around all the people still passed out on the floor. But I just don't have the drive.

So instead, after we saw "The Last Schwartz" on Friday night - & let me just say that it was the worst student directed performance so far; the blocking was awful, although having been called back for the lead, I saw who GOT the lead & the casting was very well done. I could not have done that kind of justice to that part. So after that, my mother dropped me off & left. I went straight to bed after a few painkillers (my wisdom teeth - or rather, lack thereof - still ache in the evenings) & woke up Saturday around 6 AM. I procrastinated a bit, thinking about a few of the things I had to do & then I cleaned until 8:30. I always feel good about getting up early & realizing how much I've gotten done before most people wake up on a Saturday morning.

Then I put The Simpsons in & hit play all & started knitting. When the episodes stopped, I played them all with commentary. Then I moved to Fraiser & played all the episodes on whichever random disc I decided to put in. Then I did Buffy. Then Quantum Leap. By the end of the day I'd made a scarf & a half. The end of the day was pretty late . . . 10, I think. And that's usually what I define as the end of the day, so I stopped knitting . . . & worked on schoolwork. I put together a paper proposal for Script Analysis & started an outline for a design paper. Then I did some design research on Fortenbras (we're designing the show) & passed out after I sent off the paper proposal to David for approval.

Sunday I woke up a little later at 7:30 because I'd been up so late & put in a Weird Al music video DVD & started knitting. Then I put in Pride & Prejudice which was a glorious six hours of background noise while I curled up in a quiet world of clicking knitting needles. At Three I stopped to eat. Then I knitted until my mother came home with various musical soundtracks for background noise. Singing loudly. My mother came home to see me lying on the couch right where she left me (I've been sleeping on the couch lately - actually . . . for a few months . . . is that still "lately?") & she saw the three finished scarves & the one I was just starting & was happy & impressed. I had quite the productive weekend.

But I'd better have many more if I expect to be able to deal with Christmas. Three scarves down (And today, I've made it two-thirds of the way through a fourth by knitting between classes) eight to go . . . & I still have to finish that afghan which is not even close to being halfway done . . . Yipe.

But the way I see it - this next weekend, I'll get at least another scarf done (on top of this one) I daren't expect another mammothly productive weekend like this one (umm . . . was that a word?) so that's 5 out of 11. For Thanksgiving weekend, I'll be with my father, so I'll try to stay occupied at all times - so that will have me knitting quite a bit & add in scattered hours of the weekdays, I should probably have two more by the end of that weekend - making 7 out of 11. Four more - that's not too scary. I'll have that many by the 17th when the semester ends & I'll be home all day everyday until the day before Christmas when we head to NJ - when all scarves PLUS the afghan have to be done.

I can do that . . . right? *gulps*

Car Trouble

So for the past few days, we've heard a clunk in the rear of the car. Sometimes when we brake, sometimes when we turn, sometimes fairly randomly. So the car was taken in today to Bobby, our mechanic & the good news is that the car is getting fixed, so we won't die. The bad news is we'll have to make some budget cuts & with Christmas coming up, we may have to stop eating for a few months. Or we could buy Park Place with the gamble that maybe someone will land there . . . maybe build a few houses when money starts coming in . . .

The clunk was due to the ball joints being loose. BAD NEWS if they break when driving. So that's necessary. $600.

The radiator is starting to leak. Bobby said to hold off on the antifreeze if we were going to get that done later . . . so we're doing that now. $350.

The CV Boots (drive axle) don't need to get fixed right now, but they're leaking, & need to be watched. That'll be $300.

The two rear tires are looking bad, but Brad (one of Bobby's guys) is going to keep an eye out for tire sales for us so we can save a few bucks. But that'll be about $200.

So, the $600 & $350 jobs that we're getting done now plus the oil change we went in there for in the first place, should put us at about $1,000. With $500 worth of work to look forward to.

And all this with Christmas on its merry way.

Christopher Reeve

"So many of our dreams at first seem impossible, then they seem improbable, and then, when we summon the will, they soon become inevitable."

-Christopher Reeve

Plato

"Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle"

-Plato

Chuck Palahniuk

"None of me is original. I am the combined effort of everybody I've ever known."

- Chuck Palahniuk

Michael Crichton

"I am certain there is too much certainty in the world"

- Michael Crichton

James Thurber

"Well, if I called the wrong number, why did you answer the phone?"

- James Thurber

William James

"A great many people think they are thinking when they are really rearranging their prejudices."

-William James

Shakespeare

"A wretched soul, bruised with adversity, we bid be quiet when we hear it cry; But were we burdened with like weight of pain, As much or more we should ourselves complain."



-Shakespeare

David Hyde Pierce

"Don't you always feel bad when they take away one of the spoons? It's like you ordered wrong."

-David Hyde Pierce

Chekov

"If there is a gun hanging on the wall in the first act, it must fire in the last."

-Chekov