The truth comes out

"...he favors a pronunciation primer of, 'Shea as in Stadium, Bon as in Jovi.' "

French women don't have tact.

What to write? I'll detail some of this last week.

Good:
- Receiving Sees chocolates from my dad (I've linked in case you feel like sending me more)
- Picking up lots of holds from the public library (milk it, folks!)
- Seeing Low, Cowboy Curtis and the Olympic Hopefuls

I finished the pound of chocolates in two or three days; I haven't figured out how many Led Zeppelin tracks this equals. Happy Valentine's Day!

Low's performance was rockin', but the show was just OK. Lots of kiddies talking ('twas all-ages) doesn't add much to Sparhawk and Parker's harmonies. Also, I wasn't that impressed by Pedro the Lion. Am I missing something?

Bad:
- Finding out Thursday morning that Michael Chabon had appeared in St. Paul on WEDNESDAY NIGHT. Honestly, I still don't know how to pronounce the man's last name. Kate, gimme some help here...
- Learning Thursday that I had $20 in University library fines. I've been out of it lately.

Neither here nor there:
- On Wednesday in career planning we examined our Strong Interest Inventory test results. According to mine, my highest themes are:
1. Visual Arts & Design
2. Writing & Mass Communication
3. Culinary Arts ( a curveball!)
4. Office Management
5. Programming & Information Systems

The results also said that my interests are generally the same as female librarians' (68/70, as opposed to 22/70 for medical illustrators').

Basically, the results are calling me a tool. I found it disheartening that "Really cool person who like hangs around and wants to write or do writing-type stuff" wasn't in my top-5 list.

Dialogue snippet of the week:
Eden: Don't you see, we're like good copy editor /bad copy editor.
Vlad: What?
Eden: You know... like good cop/bad cop...?
Vlad: OK. I'm going to turn around and read now.

Purple Haze

I was just reminiscing today about the days when I didn't have to dress up in a black suit and high heels for interviews. My Manic Panic days were terrific. I was especially lucky because I had an experienced hair-colorist (the freshman on my floor!) dye my hair, and he even put lowlights of grape purple in with the violet color. I felt like a total goddess. At this same time, my friend Jonathan (who took this photo) had blue hair and my boyfriend Jon had magenta-red hair, so it was easy finding someone to sit with in the dining hall - we all looked like Trix! Even my mom liked it.

I miss those days, folks. Maybe when I'm eighty and gone totally gray I'll do it again. *That'll* shock the home.

Lent!

Ladies and gentlemen, it's time again for that tantalizing Christian season of self-reflection, discipline, and good works that is Lent. Now, I'm the kind of person who grew up Catholic and, although I increasingly reject the stringent and often discriminatory teachings of the Church, I just can't let go of the ritual. The "fire and brimstone," if you're Eddie Izzard.

So I like Lent. I go for it. I usually spring for a two-part system - one resolution to be a better human being, and one material restriction to remind myself not to be so indulgent. This year, per the first part, I'm going to try to be more generous: a little less judgmental, a little more willing to share my time and money and self. Hey, think of the bonuses possible if you come to happy hour with me. Ask for some of my onion rings! I'll hand 'em over! Along with my brewski, actually, because for the second part I'm foregoing alcohol for the forty days and forty nights.

That thud you just heard, by the way, was Eden falling to the ground in shock, because she's pretty sure I'm an alcoholic. Which I'm not, but I do enjoy a beer every now and again. I blame it on an Irish upbringing. So now, after a difficult day, I'm going to have to go home and ease into the evening with... friendly conversation. Or, God forbid, a refreshing glass of lemonade.

As Richard Russo's narrator said in Straight Man, "We do not want what is good for us."

That's why we need religion. Or a swift kick in the butt.

Eden dances merrily around the apartment Wednesday afternoon, singing, "I don't have to work tomorrow night! No work! Yeah-heah!" Bennett sticks his head out the door. "I wish my standards were as low as yours. Then I'd be happy all the time!" Eden nods enthusiastically, then continues singing.

It's the end of the school week, and what better way to celebrate then... post on your blog and teethe on saltines? Today's high was something like 46, so it's pretty hard to complain about anything. To do the weather justice, this morning I decided to take an hour-long walk, forgetting that I'd be walking to, from and to class again. But how many miles did I walk exactly?

A researcher in 2025 will read that sentence and jot down,
"Another obvious plea for pedometer sneakers."

The problem with walking around here is that there's no place to just happen by. I try to stay away from campus when I can, but a lot of the surrounding areas are grimy and industrial-looking. Yuuuuck! Sometimes I walk to a co-op that's a half-hour away, but it's getting old -- psyching yourself for the opportunity to buy organic produce feels kind of pathetic. Which reminds me, Valentine's Day is coming up. Expect a really long, indecipherable post that night.

And some really funny chase stories! But no promises. :^D

I'm going to do something else now, but take care, Kate & Co.

p.s. On copy editing: Last night I discovered that boss-man doesn't use instant messenger because he can't handle peoples' bad grammar. Holy shit!