Saturday, December 11, 2010

Could Use Some Cheering

Today. What is there to say about today? At work I thought I was being helpful when I donated the clothes in the back of the van to DI (after reading that someone loaded them and then the donation center was closed). Turns out the clothes for donation were donated, and the stuff in the back of the van was t-shirts for us to do a service project. Seriously? What are the odds?! How often do clothing donations get donated--without notation--and new clothes appear in bags in the same place--again, without notation? I can't help but feel responsible, because I'm the one who made the mistake. At the same time, I don't feel entirely to blame. Blech.

Then, after that high note, I came to my parents house after work and saw the newspaper on the table. Not unusual. Yay for the Brian David Mitchell conviction that takes up 3/4 of the page...and then I see another headline. "8 arrested in online prostitution sting" (you might find the article here). Not only does it have that attention-grabbing headline, it has mugshots of the individuals. Who is first? Only my high school ASL teacher, and quite possibly one of the most influential people during that time in my life. I cannot help but to think of his family, how it will jeopardize his career, and how--more than anything--I feel so deceived because I believed in him, I trusted in him, and then to see this...I pity him.

In other, more positive/exciting news...while I was driving home I passed Santa Claus--in full regalia--driving a red Ford truck. He waved kindly. I'm not sure if that's just because he's nice, or if it means good things for Christmas this year (hehe). Also, I've officially started working on Adam's Christmas present and I'm super-duper excited for it! I would put samples up as a teaser for the final product, but since he reads the blog there will be no ruining of surprises.

Tuesday, December 7, 2010

Bad Writing JuJu

There is something about being forced to write that sucks all the fun out of it. Like reading a book. Chances are good that reading it without being required to somehow make it better. For instance, I really like to write. In fact, I would like to do it more often. And yet I find myself stuck in this finals week conundrum. I have papers to write that I cannot sit down and force myself to get down on paper.

Today I made the most valiant effort so far. I went to the library, found a table near a jack so my laptop wouldn't die, set out all my study materials: notebook, the good pen, research, water, iPod with the "Writing Music" playlist set, and sat down to write. About four sentences into my introductory paragraph a startling thought happened upon my little brain. I didn't have the book I was analyzing. I didn't have the anthology I was drawing the theory from. I had absolutely nothing I needed!

No worries, I thought, I can save this. I can start writing my other paper, yeah. I've already been functioning with that theory today, I'll just start writing that, no wait. I need the anthology for that, too.

To quote one of my favorite songs from Beaches, "And the sigh...that issued forth from [Chelsea's] mouth was so loud that it was mistaken by some to be the early onset of the Siroccan Winds which would often roll through the Schwarzwald with a vengeance!"

Still bent on being productive I spent an hour writing one heck of a kick-a introductory paragraph and outlining the rest of the essay. And it was there, somewhere amidst the rather useless, but pointedly so, scratching of my pen that I lost my oomph.

That's right, my oomph. That burst of motivation to work and be successful, and to complete the projects. The oomph got died. If I even began to try to write now I would be drooling my way through page ten of my notebook before I could get three words down. There's something so drab about writing in the academe. It's just so droll. Although, strange-and-slightly-warped-high-point, I do get to insert a bit of necrophilia into my analysis of Othello, so that's fun.

Oh, oh, best part of the day! So we had this presentation for my critical literature and theory class. We were to pick a theory and an artifact (read: book, song, movie, etc.) and analyse the artifact using the theory. Initially the groups were to be between 4-5 people (some ended up with six and there was one with only two). Well the two were initially in our group, but decided to break off when we would not concede to do a more serious song (we had firmly settled on "Show Me the Meaning of Being Lonely" by the Backstreet Boys). Come presentation day we are to take ten minutes per group to share our ideas. There were six groups total. Theoretically this should take us 60 minutes. Theoretically.

We ended up being last. Who came before us? None other than the traitorous two, who also chose to use the same theory and a song for their artifact. All of the other groups had gone over on time. We were now one hour and thirty minutes into the presentations. What did the group of two do? They took fifteen minutes! FIFTEEN! Not only did this only leave us three minutes to do our presentation, one of our group members had a final immediately following this one. So what did we do? In GameSpeak: PWNED (pronounced "pont" and, as is visible, misplaced the "p" for the "o" in "owned) them.

The class, and the professor, loved us. With good reason. We. Were. Brilliant. And we did it all in seven minutes.