Monday, February 28, 2011


My roommate's been missing for the past few days.  She's been coming around to get something and then immediately leaves.  She hasn't, as far as I can tell, been sleeping in her bed. 
I'm not sure how to interpret this.  On one hand, it could be that she is just crazy busy or has a new boyfriend or something.  On the other hand, it could be that she's angry at me and instead of talking to me, has just decided to leave.  (She has a sister nearby; maybe she's staying with her or at her place?) 
It's hard to know what Nina is thinking, as she is in and out so fast.  She has a set schedule during the week.  She's usually gone by nine in the morning.  This morning she came in the room at around ten, which, in all my time living with her, she's never done.  I was totally surprised to hear her come in.  (I was trying to sleep.  She seems to hate that I am such a fan of naps, although I've decided to nap only when she's gone.) 
I am enjoying getting full nights of sleep.  I had forgotten how satisfying uninterrupted sleep is. 

Sunday, February 27, 2011

Without Explanation

I had a dream a couple of nights ago that I was working in a very nice office, with all this beautiful wood paneling.  I was sitting at my desk, with a laptop open, playing a podcast, and I was looking through the drawers.  Inside were various medical tools, scalpels and the like.  I must work in a medical supply company? 
I think it's very strange to be dreaming about work.  And maybe a sign that I'm overworked, because don't normal people dream about sex or flying or being famous or something mundanely selfish?  I always dream about small moments without explanation. 

Friday, February 25, 2011

More Window Drama

Last week, I said some mean things to my roommate about the window situation, and then, it was fixed.  It was nice, and I was pleased I had finally gotten through to her.
Then it was open last night.  It was a nice week.  I already miss it. 
Everytime I think "Okay, now this drama is over," it comes up again.
I'm hoping she goes out and gets drunk tonight so she can't control anything. 

Thursday, February 24, 2011

The Origins of Steampunk

As I've mentioned before, I'm into steampunk.  I just came across this post from a fellow steampunker (if that's the correct term), talking about a research project he's been working on about the origins of steampunk.  He says that he's expanding the project, but that he needs help.  If anyone has any ideas, leave him a comment. 

Drinking Money

My roommate went out drinking last night. Who goes out drinking for five hours on a Wednesday night?
And where in God's name does she get the money for alcohol? I go out about once every two weeks and try to confine myself to fifteen dollars (though I sometimes manage to make it twenty.)

Wednesday, February 23, 2011


Alexander was training me with some new computer stuff.  Mostly, it went well.  I weirdly enjoy myself.  It makes me feel peaceful. 
Maybe a little too peaceful, since I screwed up and erased some data Alexander had taken care of.  And then, to make it worse, I couldn't figure out how to fix it (that's what this training is for.)  The good news is that it took me a while, but I figured it out.  I kept thinking he was going to show up and ask me what was taking so long.  I did eventually figure it out, and rushed over to make sure he knew I was done. 
He didn't say anything.  Hopefully he didn't notice?

Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Picture This

One of my friends pointed me to this picture.  I really approve of it. 

Monday, February 21, 2011

President's Day

The only lame thing about President's Day was that my roommate had the day off too.  Luckily, she was in and out for the first part of the day. 
Midway through the afternoon she came home and messed around in the bathroom.  I could hear the water running and various banging noises while I was working on some writing and watching tv. 
When I went in there later, I discovered she had bleached some of her clothes, which was why it smelled a particular way.
She sort of disappeared for a while, and I made another attempt at a bubble bath.  She kept coming in and out of the place, and I was so afriad she was going to burst into the bathroom.  After awhile, she decided to get on her computer to talk to someone.  It was a little awkward, but I got dressed in the bathroom and then went to dinner. 
So, no, I didn't really do anything for President's Day.

Sunday, February 20, 2011

Bursting my Bubble

One of the things I'm trying to make a better effort with these days is my stress level.  I've been pretty good, but I've been trying to schedule in various relaxing events. 
One of them are regular bubble baths.  I've been trying out this chamomile and lavender bubble bath.  I totally smell the chamomile but not the lavender. 
Anyway, I tried very hard to sit in the tub and read for an hour, but I kept getting cold, and I am loathe to run more hot water, as lots of water seems like a waste.  But I did, twice.  And was still cold. 
I knew why: I had stupidly left the window in the next room open, and it must have been colder outside than I realized.  A gust of air would come in under the door and lift the ceiling panels upwards, and then they'd come crashing down, rattling.  Sometimes it would be very loud.  As I sat there, I watched a bit of black fuzz come down from the ceiling panel and land gently on the floor. 
"That can't be good," I thought. 
I'm still on the fence if I am going to continue this experiment. 

Saturday, February 19, 2011

Rapid Change of Times

I went to Alexander to ask if I could be trained in a particular program.
"Not today. I have an art class."
My sense is that Alexander doesn't need an art class, but okay. We tried to schedule for Tuesday.
"12 o'clock," he said.
Then he paused. "Well, actually, I have something to do. 1:00."
Another pause. "1:30."
I snorted at him. "Well, I'm just trying to be realistic.
Oh, he thought I was annoyed. No, I just though his rapid change of times was funny. "It's fine, really." (What am I going to do about it anyway? Demand?)

Friday, February 18, 2011

A Red Card for the President

Certain friends of mine are totally obsessed with the Egyptian uprising, and I admit that I find myself occasionally perking up when I've heard anything about it.  I'm loving this little article about how censored books are coming back now that the previous regime is gone

Thursday, February 17, 2011

Novel Research

I've been knocking an idea for a novel around in my head for a while.  This afternoon, I sat down and started doing some research for it.  The research gave me all sorts of ideas for things for my characters to do.  I also got some ideas on what kind of setting I want to create.
I think that I am going to have to return to some old classics for some points of canonical reference.  I was thinking of maybe having a certain amount of illness, so I was thinking that maybe I would need to return to the early parts of Jane Eyre where Jane is living in that terrible "Christian" school.  And then I thought about returning to Wide Sargasso Sea, and then after that maybe the Anne of Green Gables novels. 
I've only decided on a few characters, but I know I want there to be a specific group of characters and have all sorts of dramatic things happen to them.  The one character I have decided on has personal motivations and I've already parsed out motivations other characters have concerning her. 
I don't think I'm going to have enough time to write this novel anytime soon, but doing the preliminary work for it is fun.  It sort of feels like day dreaming, only it's all about how I'm going to write something amazing and important.

Nir Rosin and Anderson Cooper

I enjoy a good, self-righteous takedown (back when I was still watching, it was what I loved about The Daily Show.)
Cooper is so my hero for taking this guy down, systematically, piece by piece, letting every lie get an individual tearing apart. Rosin says he's sorry, but watch how he fails to actually be sorry by getting defensive and nasty about it.
Rosin says that she is going to get all the attention because she is white and famous. He's right, but the tweets don't actually say this. They don't actually point out that as sad as Logan's assault was, millions of women are assulted and go unreported and heard. But the moment you make a judgement, personally, on Twitter, over who's rape deserves more coverage or sympathy, you are placing a judgement on what women's bodies are more valuable and worthy. That's not okay either.
I'm bothered by Rosin's implication in the second tweet that it would be fun for Cooper, who is out as a gay man, to be raped. Rape is not okay. Ever. And it's really not okay to think that the rape of those who are politically marginalized (including women and gay men).
As a final note: Cooper's laugh.  He's taking no prisoners!

Wednesday, February 16, 2011


Found this great site, which basically rates companies and their ability to make electronics conflict free.  I really wish I had seen this website before I made certain big purchases, but I like it all the same. 
I'll just going to have to remember it next time. 

Ropke Quote

Doing some reading today, I came across this great quote from Wilhelm Ropke: “The market economy is not everything. The supporters of the market economy do it the worst service by not observing its limits.”
I'm surprised to read this quote from someone famously a conservative, but to me that makes it all the more obvious that the market economy is not some God that people worship. 

Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Possible Sour Grapes

Alexander brought me grapes today.  It made me smile. 
I really hope he doesn't think that I am starving myself, since he sometimes asked if I ate lunch.  So, right after I was happy about the grapes, I realize maybe it wasn't necessarily a good things. 

Monday, February 14, 2011

Trying to Sleep

After the struggle to function, I finally gave in and took a nap.  After laying down for fifteen minutes, someone came into my room.  He was one of the maintenance guys.  I had put in a request the day before for a plug for my bathtub.  These guys usually take months for anything and now he had woken me up.  When I explain what I wanted he said he would be right back. 
Right back apparently means an hour.  I tried to go back to bed while I waited. 
Now I'm really tired.  Yuck. 

Forget This

One of the biggest reasons I hate this whole open window controversy is that I notice a distinct set of problems when I don't have enough sleep.  Nina doesn't see this because she isn't around, and it's part of the reason she's completely unfair. 
This morning, I left my bag somewhere.  It took me about four hours before I noticed it was gone.  I realized it was gone and then forgot again for another two hours before I finally went and got it.  It was sitting at the desk, waiting me, and I thanked the man there for keeping it.  I didn't have much of a panic because I realized it was probably safe, and even if it wasn't, there wasn't anything valuable in it. 
But what if I had left something valuable?  And it had gotten stolen? 
Later on in the day, I went to church, and I forgot to bring money.  It ended up being not a big deal, but it's not like me to forget things (and when I do, it's usually because of stress), and it's not like me to forget two different things within a few hours of each other. 
I don't think appealing to her will really work, but I wish it did. 

Breakfast this Morning

Preadad babbled at me again this morning.  "What?" I asked. 
"I said that I really needs these two minutes," she said, clear exasperated with me. 
Oh okay.  Mostly no one else misunderstands her too, so I don't feel too bad about it.  I had gotten the two minutes thing but not the importance of two minutes. 
When I got in line for breakfast behind Preadad, I noticed Ruth was in front of her.  Oh good, I thought.  I can have breakfast with her.  I watched as Preadad reached over Ruth's plate to grab things.  Something told me Ruth was going to mention how irritating that was. 
Which Ruth totally did. 
We chatted about librarians with egos and nasty men and bad roommates.  I still wasn't really up, but so far a nice breakfast.  (Preadad booked it out of there fast; what she possibly had time to eat I don't know.) 
Lavvy came up to me just as I was finishing up.  I told her not to bother moving.  As we were going back to our rooms, I noted that she had a sugar packet stuck to her shirt.  I almost said something to her, but there were two other girls with us, and I didn't want to embarrass her. 

Sunday, February 13, 2011

The Trouble with Mimi

At church today, I saw Mimi.  She was sitting way ahead of me.  I saw her before, at Thanksgiving, but I didn't draw attention to myself then either.  She was sitting alone, as I was.  She may have seen me pass by her when I went up to the altar.  I hope not, honestly, because I'd generally like just to stay out of her way. 
About three and a half hours later, I wandered into the laundry room.  There's a tv in one of the corners of the room, and I noted that Lady Gaga was on the screen, singing and dancing.  I stopped briefly to watch.  I was just going to watch what was probably a quick number and then leave the room. 
I heard someone say something indistinguishable behind me.  I turned around.  There was Mimi, standing there at the table in the center of the room, clothes on the table.  She scared me a little, since I didn't even notice her in the room. 
"What?" I asked.
"They're watching it in the other room," she said.  I stared blankly at her.  "You can watch it in here or you can watch it with the other girls, it doesn't matter to me."
It dawned on me that she was probably referring to a room down the hallway where people like to watch tv sometimes.  She was saying that they were watching the same program. 
"Thank you," I said, and walked out. 
I get the distinct impression that Mimi doesn't like me one bit.  I find her disagreeable, but I'd honestly just rather avoid her.  She's difficult to be around, and last week she apparently made Mary Kay cry.  I find that unacceptable, as Mary Kay is so terribly sweet. 

Claire's Birthday Dinner

I was talking to one of Claire's friends, named Chris.  He was telling me about his hometown, how everyone muttered and how he had taken up speaking fast but that he didn't really have an inbetween speaking speed. 
"You don't have to perform for me," I said, referencing the fact that he was an actor. 
"So just to be clear," I asked.  "Are you gay or straight?"
The other people at our end of the table heard us, and they went up in fits of laughter.  Both Vicki and Amanda admonished me for speaking to him like that. 
"She doesn't have a filter," Amanda said. 
I do too have a filter.  There are all sorts of things I don't say, and I suspect that people would be deeply scarred if they heard the majority of my thoughts.  In comparison with other people, who lack thoughts to say in the first place, sure, it looks like I am filterless.
I suspected that Chris wouldn't mind me asking, and he took it like it was totally normal.  "I wake up everyday asking myself the same question," he said. 
After a while, one of Claire's other friends came along.  He sat down at the table next to Chris and in front of me.  He was dressed as a hipster.  We chatted about the neighborhood and made fun of hipsters and how expensive the whole thing was.  As he was talking, his voice reminded me vaguely of someone's, and then it occurred to me that he sounded just like Kashif.  And then as we continued talking, I realized he didn't just have Kashif's voice but that same particular sweetness that I've only previously encountered in Kashif.  Too bad this young man was gay. 
He talked to me about singing, which he was apparently into, and about how everyone can sing, and about the business aspect of getting a job in singing.  He asked me what I did, and I said I was a poet. 
(As an aside, can I just say how impossibly hard I find the question of who I am or what I do?  I hate the idea of identifying myself as just one thing.  But at the same time, if allowed to, I would babble on forever about who I am and I suspect people still wouldn't know.) 
In any case, the young man was nice enough to be supportive, ask me who my favorite poets are (another question I dread and never seem to just have a good, truthful and concise answer to).  He told me he liked Sylvia Plath, and since I like her too, that got us both off and running.  We discussed the Bell Jar
He also was nice enough to make some suggestions for where I should go read my poetry.  He told me it was casual, and not to worry.  I really don't like to read my poetry; part of the reason I write is because of my aversion to performance. 
Maxwell had moved over to sit with us at that point, and he talked about his failed attempts at dating and how much he really wished he could be on Gossip Girl.  A lot of people probably wish they were on television shows, myself included, though Gossip Girl isn't the first one that comes to mind. 
Chris and I continued talking a bit.  He told me about how much he loved Joss Whedon, and guessing correctly, I asked if he liked Firefly.  (Shocker, he did.  When boys say they like Whedon, none of them mean they like Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel, what they mean is that they like Firefly.  Which would be fine but I wish they'd be more honest about it.)  He also said he liked Dr. Horrible
At this point, I mentioned to him that I wished someone would invite Whedon to work on Broadway, as I thought it would be interesting to see him work in a live audience setting, and this got the boy talking about a live production of Dr. Horrible he'd seen.  He went through everything with me, the actors, the singing, how Bad Horse was managed, how the lighting worked; it was very detailed and very boring, as I hadn't seen this live production.  (It was almost as bad as listening to Emily earlier that day rave about Darren Chris on Glee.) 
And then Chris mentioned he had a girlfriend. 
Oh Gods, why bother? I thought.  And I was a tad annoyed Claire had sat me with him with no indication that Chris wasn't single. 
Obviously, it was time to abandon ship. 
We talked a little more.  I asked him what it was like to work with Claire, and he said that she was his favorite person, and that of everyone he knew, he thought she was going to make it.  We chatted about superheros, particularly Spider-Man.  We ate our dinners, and Maxwell shared his chips with us.  (Good man.  There are few things I like better than food, and one of them happens to be free food.)  Then I went to the bathroom.  I made the move of leaving, but then was persuaded to stay, and sat at the other end of the table with Jenny, Tamara, and Ruth. 
Ruth was complaining bitterly to Tamara about school, who, possibly more bitter than Ruth about the whole thing, was whole heartedly agreeing with her.  We started talking about the waiter, who I've encountered a couple of times before at this place.  He is very talk, and somewhat built, with a little fat  on him.  But what I find extraordinary about him is his face, particularly his hair.  It's very dark and long, and in some guys, I find long hair very attractive, as with him.  He had the whole dark eyes thing to complete the look.  He looks very much like he should be playing in band, particularly bass or even maybe drums.  When we asked him last night, he said that he use to play football and that's all.
That's all, I thought.  Good Lord, you must be lying.  I can't imagine that he is only a former football player.  And, moreover, what the heck is he doing being a waiter at a restaurant?  Surely he must have some other goal.  I was hoping he would illuminate us as to that.  (Jenny joked later that he was an Amnesty International lawyer, which I would find totally acceptable, vaguely intriguing, and a surprising choice.) 
Then we decided to move on to our next place.  We walked down several blocks to a pub I had passed by multiple times but had never been in before. 

Saturday, February 12, 2011

The Return of Ruth

Today at lunch I was happy to discover that Ruth was back.  We had a good time chatting with one another. 
I told her that I had missed her very much.  "I talked about Bernie Maddow with the girls a couple of days ago, and they very politely listened," I said, pausing for effect.  "And then changed the subject." 
Ruth laughed.  "They must not realize what kind of clothes he designs."  This, in turn, made me laugh. 
"I think," she said, carrying on, "that being like this makes us unfit for general company.  I was hanging out with a bunch of history post-graduates, and the conversations revolved around things like Kennedy's Education Reforms." 
I don't know how much I would want to talk about that.  To be honest, I don't really know much about that. 
This got us talking about what some of our mutual friends do like, including the Bachelor.  "Doesn't anyone realize what a jerk he is?" Ruth asked. 
It's so good to have her back. 

Friday, February 11, 2011

Tripping Over Myself in Happiness

This afternoon, I was sitting on my computer, doing some writing.  Nina was in and out of the bathroom, doing various things. 
"I am going on a trip," she announced.  "I will arrive on Sunday." 
I paused for a moment.  It occurred to me this morning she might be going somewhere, just because a large bag appeared today at her desk, packed full of things, including her toiletries, which where on the top of the open bag. 
"Do you mean you'll be back here on Sunday?" I asked. 
Okay then, sounds good to me. 
Well, actually, it sounds better than good to me.  It sounds heavenly. 
The only sad thing is that it lands during Claire's birthday weekend.  We're all planning on going out tomorrow in celebration.  On a weekend like this, where I have guaranteed alone time, I would prefer to abuse it but staying in all weekend and enjoying the silence/lack. 
In any case, I'm very pleased with this turn of events. 

Marvin Gaye Sings the National Anthem

I don't really think of myself as a Marvin Gaye fan, but I got to say, this is the best national anthem I've ever heard, mostly because it doesn't sound like the actual national anthem at all.

Thursday, February 10, 2011

Waking Up Over and Over

Had some trouble sleeping this morning. You know that thing where you wake up and think you're awake, but it's just a dream? I did that about five or six times this morning. Several times I awoke to another dream in which I missed my alarm and was late. Worst dreams ever.  I've never done this before, and it was making me sick.  (I think it all happened in the span of less than two hours, though because I was dreaming, it's hard to know.) 

I Hate Editing My Own Work

Alexander came back to me some edits on something I wrote last week. I suspect he wants very much to treat me with kid gloves because he sees me as delicate (something that is partially my own fault, as I have endeavored to cover up my more bombastic characteristics). Part of me was all "he better make me feel bad" because that's the only way I'm going to learn. Then he did make me feel bad, and then I felt even worse for feeling bad in the first place. (I'm a mess, obviously.)
Like most writers, my problem is attachment. I get so attached to my work that I can't see it clearly. I'm like a someone in love: all I see is the piece, the good things, without any sense of reality.
Alexander beat me up somewhat badly (though this is nothing in comparison with some teachers, who actually want to make me cry. In public, is possible.)

Wednesday, February 9, 2011


"The Monk?" I asked.
"My friend loved that book, but no." 
I thought about Dan, who hated it.  He was the only person I knew who ever read it. 
"The Mysteries of Udolpho?"
"No.  The Castle of Otranto by, um..."
"Walpole," I said. 
"Yes!"  She paused.  "You know a lot about Victorian literature."
So much so I knew that what we were actually talking about was Gothic literature, though I let it pass. 
Her name is Lavvy, and she's new. 
It's a hard question. The answer is I haven't done much work on the subject but I'm interested. And I am trying to be modest. (Jimmy, influencing me like this.  I will cheerfully beat him to death for making me play down my strengths.)  But it's so complicated. I told her yes but told her I knew more on other topics.
What is it with here? Everyone acts like I'm a genius. I mean, yes, school is important to me, but I don't know that I'm above anyone else around here. Jimmy, Paul and Nate et al. all think highly of me, intellectually speaking, but Ashley, Natasha and Philip et al. do not. (Take a wild guess who I think highly of.)
But people here are always shocked that I know so much. Huh? This, I don't understand.  After years of no one thinking terribly well of me, and then moving to this, where so many people are impressed by me, I really don't know how to react.  I thought the majority of people were my level of intelligence, but maybe I just hung out with so many above average and frankly gifted people that I'd forgotten what average and normal look like. 
I'm still trying to think of a way around this.  If there is one, which I'm rapidly thinking there isn't. 

Tuesday, February 8, 2011

Dean's Mom's Younger Self

At work today I was reading when I had an idea for a poem, and then off I was, writing one instead of working on what I was meant to be doing.  This is becoming rather typical of me. 
It was mostly a work of nostalgia.  During the Superbowl a few days ago, I was thinking about when Dean and I went to a party together for it (this was back before I was a regular attendee at things at Casa Paul).  We had to walk on this giant sheet of ice to get there.  I remember slipping and sliding.  "Here Dear," Dean said, and he let me take his arm.  Dean says dear to me a lot, and it's one of those little things I like about him.  We had only recently become friends, but it was one of those friendships that immediately took off and it was like we knew each other. 
As we walked, I realized how much he sounded like another old friend, and it was strange, realizing that I was gravitating to the same types of people over and over again. 
And then I thought about when we were sitting in the cafeteria, talking about Doctor Who, when Dean turned suddenly and said "You look exactly like my Mom did when you were her age."  We were sitting with a bunch of other friends then, and Matt was all "Way to be creepy."  We decided as a group that Dean's current Mom had gone back in time to get her younger self, bring her younger self back to the present to watch Dean.  And, obviously, I was Dean's Mom's Younger Self. 
And then I thought about a dance I went to with that group of friends, and how much great music they played, especially techno.
So, basically, I was working off of nostalgia.  And not doing my real work. 

Interracial Relationships

I hate to admit that I am a romantic.  As a romantic, I'm interested in a wide variety of relationships.  And I'm interested in interracial relationships, so I was sad to hear that Halle Berry and her soon-to-be-ex-beau are divorcing, because this relationship, for a long time, was held up as a model. 
A lot of the stuff said in this article makes me really sad.  Mostly it's about everyone's bizarre assumptions surrounding interracial relationships. 
Everyone is about assumptions, it seems.  This depresses me deeply. 

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Superbowl Party

I spent the Superbowl at a party.  In years past, I would go hang out at Paul's place.  He'd usually have a huge party and I would always have a ton of fun. 
This year, Paul didn't have a party, so I guess I didn't miss anything.  So I went over to hang with some other friends this year. 
I guess what got me was how long the game felt this year.  And, like, boring.  Usually I have a great time watching the game, but after the halftime I lost all enthusiasm. 
Mimi was there, and she mostly talked about things that we totally random.  Amanda and I giggled a little about it.  Eventually Amanda got so bored with the game that she took a nap (and missed the Steelers getting another touchdown.) 
At the same time, I was chatting with Michael about the whole Af-Pak situation, which, I hate to say it, was way more interesting to me then the game. 
We were laughing at commercials when my Dad called me.  I don't know why my Dad was calling me when the Superbowl is clearly on, but I just ignored it.  I had sent him an email yesterday. 
Amanda woke up and we chatted about how few guys were here and how weird it was to not hear the deep bass sound of the guys or the popping sound of people opening up beers. 
This girl was at the party.  Like a lot of girls, she didn't know much about football.  I can sympathize, since when I'm around boys (especially certain boys) they make me feel bad, not even about not knowing the rules, but not every little things. 
But this girl asked if a team could win by one point.  Um...yes? 
Amanda said it best when she said it was an uneventful game and there weren't any good commercials. 
More than anything, going to this party and watching this game made me miss Paul.  If I was hanging with Paul, I'd be having a ball, but mostly I was just sort of disappointed. 

Saturday, February 5, 2011

Lunch with Sharon

Had lunch with some friends today, including Sharon.  I'm sort of on the fence about Sharon.  There's something about her that seems really nervous.  And she seems to struggle to understand what I'm saying.  I'm not sure if this is an issue of me or her, although mostly everyone else gets me. 
Sharon was talking about her brother, who she calls "retarded."  (I could hear Dan's disapproval ringing through my ears as she said that.)  She mentioned that her brother lives alone, but loves movies.  I mentioned maybe as a present she'd get him Netflix, since you only have to pay a monthly fee.  I think she misunderstood me, and thought that you had to pay for each individual movie.  I tried to explain that no, you just pay the fee and get as few or many movies as you want. 
There's something rather nervous about her.  She speaks fast, not to the point that I can't understand her, just in a way that makes me wonder if she feels she has to impress me. 
She told me that, unlike a lot of other girls my age, I'm actually interesting and smart.  It was a nice compliment, but I wonder if it makes her feel like she has to live up to some imaginary standard. 
Lately, several people have told me that I scare them or make them feel like they aren't measuring up, which I feel terrible about, because I generally don't intend to make anyone feel that way.  Occasionally, someone will tick me off and I will "pull rank" as it were, and lean on them slightly so they know I don't approve.  But if I keep someone around, generally that's because I like them. 

Write Psyche

Alexander had me working on some writing.  I got started, and I was chugging along.  Then he sent me this email with some guidelines ("Guidelines!?!!?," I thought.  "Why couldn't he say something about these before hand?") and they psyched me out.  When I can just write, I usually am fine, but when I have a word count, I really struggle.  I either write way too much or way too little, because the word count is itching at the back of my mind. 
I got it done, and Alexander actually would rather that I write more than less.  And I did.  And it'll probably be fine. 
I wish Alexander would give me some feedback.  Everyone around there treats me like I'm fragile, but honestly, I've had teachers try to make me cry when it comes to my writing; sending me an email with some miscellaneous thoughts wouldn't be a big deal. 

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Book Porn

Alexander gave me this huge book catelog today.  As I leafed through it, I realized how many of the books being advertised were things I would read.  Then it occurred to me: this catalog is like porn to me.  (Or, at the very least, a Victoria's Secret magazine.) 
I spent about a hour today making a big list of books I'd like to read. 

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Because I Don't Have Enough to Do

Reading this cute article about Korean dramas.  Ashley has mentioned in the past that she likes this, and now, I guess, reading this, I will one day have to try one.  You know, in that free time I have so much of. 

Point for Stupid

I've been wondering over the last few days if my roommate is stupid or mean. It's sometimes hard to tell with people, and often I've found people who blend various ratios of stupid to mean in their behavior. (In September, a young man asked me about a school I didn't get into to make me feel badly about myself, forgetting he himself was in his fifth year of schooling that was meant to last four. It was both mean (trying to make me feel badly for a recent failing) and stupid (forgetting that in comparison, he actually looked equal or worse, depending on your interpretation.))
In any case, last night Nina was doing her laundry. She mentioned to me that she realized she was warm because she was using a warm blanket and that if she wanted to be cooler she shouldn't use it or use a lighter blanket.
So, one point for stupid then.