Aisle 23: French Philosophy (again, modern)
I have this paper due in my modern french philosophy tomorrow, and well yeah, no clue how to write it. The interesting thing is that the school will most likely be closed tomorrow, due to snow. So what the heck am I suppose to do? I might not be able to get to school to email the paper to the professor but I'm not sure I'll beable to write it out tonight. Also there may be no heat at my apartment, again. Why?
I'm going to splurge tomorrow and spend twenty bucks on the night. My friend is having her senior art show tomorrow, so I'm going to check it out with my ex-roommate and well, I shall need twenty bucks to partake in the festivities, that will most likely happen afterwards.
I need one more week, just one more.
Thursday, February 24
Monday, February 21
Aisle 6
Aisle 6: Bargin Insanity Asile
It is snowing outside. The school should be closed. Well it is closed, but the library's open. I'm the only student worker in at the moment, also the only circulation worker in the whole building. I leave in an hour. My brain is bubbling just like my stomach is. I've been in this institution for four years. Four years. Four years with the same job, with the same bull shit, some of the same clothes. I need to get out of here. I'm getting stir crazy. So close though. I am just a few months and several dozen pages from graduating with honors. I'm not sure I can make it. I'm not sure I'll survive outside of this place. Just about every one who graduated fromt the theatre department here has gone on to do diddly squat.
The stress is driving me to my breaking point, all I want to do is go out have dinner at the little indian place downtown and see a movie. Possibly go to a mall and take part in consumerism. I'm fine with that. Instead I'm here slaving over, well nothing at the moment. I'm just sitting here. I haven't done a lick of work today. Just sat here. Checked my mail and looked up recipes for tonight. Tonight's meal by the by is possibly chicken curry with home made poori. After work I'm going to pick up some groceries and a few aplications for jobs, like at the video store and what ever else strikes my fancy.
I feel lost. Like I'm on my own yet desperately need help from others to keep afloat. I haven't felt this way since my first semester in college. Fitting when you think about it. Leave as you came. Though I feel I'm a different person. Still every one gets the occasional pain of finding themselves adrift in life, from time to time. I'll feel better once spring starts up.
One thing is certain. I am going to need a long vacation after this semester. I just hope I can find a job that will allow me to still live in New Haven, when I graduate.
I've just heard from an old friend. She constantly amazes me with her ability to just pick up and move about the world, with little to no problem. Maybe one day I'll be able to do that. Hopefully soon.
It is snowing outside. The school should be closed. Well it is closed, but the library's open. I'm the only student worker in at the moment, also the only circulation worker in the whole building. I leave in an hour. My brain is bubbling just like my stomach is. I've been in this institution for four years. Four years. Four years with the same job, with the same bull shit, some of the same clothes. I need to get out of here. I'm getting stir crazy. So close though. I am just a few months and several dozen pages from graduating with honors. I'm not sure I can make it. I'm not sure I'll survive outside of this place. Just about every one who graduated fromt the theatre department here has gone on to do diddly squat.
The stress is driving me to my breaking point, all I want to do is go out have dinner at the little indian place downtown and see a movie. Possibly go to a mall and take part in consumerism. I'm fine with that. Instead I'm here slaving over, well nothing at the moment. I'm just sitting here. I haven't done a lick of work today. Just sat here. Checked my mail and looked up recipes for tonight. Tonight's meal by the by is possibly chicken curry with home made poori. After work I'm going to pick up some groceries and a few aplications for jobs, like at the video store and what ever else strikes my fancy.
I feel lost. Like I'm on my own yet desperately need help from others to keep afloat. I haven't felt this way since my first semester in college. Fitting when you think about it. Leave as you came. Though I feel I'm a different person. Still every one gets the occasional pain of finding themselves adrift in life, from time to time. I'll feel better once spring starts up.
One thing is certain. I am going to need a long vacation after this semester. I just hope I can find a job that will allow me to still live in New Haven, when I graduate.
I've just heard from an old friend. She constantly amazes me with her ability to just pick up and move about the world, with little to no problem. Maybe one day I'll be able to do that. Hopefully soon.
Sunday, February 20
Aisle 27
Aisle 27: The Best Seller/Stationary Asile
So I have decided never to say the phrase, "Can I help you?" while working at the circ. desk, the reserves section yeah, but not at circ. It's just that every time I ask some one that they just stare blankly and thrusts books towards me. What would they like me to do with these books? Check them in, check them out, eat them? It makes so little sense. The only time I get an answer from a patron it's in the form of "Yes" then the thrusting of the books. As if I can read their minds, or would want to if I had the ability, which I don't (by don't I mean don't to both, want to know and be able to).
That's pretty much what I get all day at the library, people thrusting books into my face. No chit chat, they just want their books and not be told they have a $243 library fine for not returning a book. I've tried to get into some form of conversation with a few patrons, a girl checked out a few Ionesco books and I gave a few pointers on some other books that might help. I've asked people what class they're taking that requiers them to check out a book on the sexual ethics of early pagan practices. But all I get are monosylabic responces or "I'm not reading this for fun, it's for a class." My all time favorite comment was from this guy (possibly a jock though I'm not sure and don't want to generalize) who was checking out four or five juvinile books. He flet it was nessecary to let me know he was checking these out for a class and not for personal reasons (couldn't understand what was wrong with that though, I mean Jumaji is a freakin' fantastic read). The patron then went on about how this is the first time he'd ever check out a book from any library since his freshman year in highschool (he was a college junior at this point if memoriy serves), he's justification for this was, "Every thing I've needed to learn I learned on t.v. So why would I need to read, you know?" All I could do was say, "Well what ever works for you, these are due back October 13th." I had to resist the urge to point out how wrong he was and at the same time the urge to laugh my head off.
I'm constantly surprised by the discrepencies in intellect at this school. I know it's a state university but honestly some times I wonder how these people graduated from high school, let alone get into a college. There are some rather smart people here, many of which are not in the honors college. Ah the honors college, that's something that disturbs me. First off let me just say that I truely believe in the "Imposter" syndrome (the idea that you feel that you aren't really worthy of being in the position you are in, ie I'm in the honors college yet I don't think I'm smart enough), I never would consider myself honors college material, despite the fact that I have made it through several honors, or higher level courses through out college and high school. I've always told people in the honors college that I'm possibly one of the less honorsie students, and I feel a bit of a phoney when I have to tell people not in the program that I'm part of it. Then I look at the people who are actually in the program. Now, again, many of them are indeed smart, and I am in awe of them, but there are quite a decent amount of people I have no clue as to how the heck they managed to get into this program. I keep on comparing the new students to those in my own class when we were at their level and I'm still shocked. They all have big sticks up their asses. Yes we complained about the work, being in honors ment doing about 20 pages of writing each week for each class, as well as reading over 100 pages a night for each class. For a freshman that's a heavy work load, but one does get use to it. And we would help those who needed help, and even lent a hand to the new people. I don't see that any more. I just see people who have an elitest demener to themselves. So how do I counteract this? I put them in their place, of course. I'm in a class, for example, about science writing and several students are complaining that the professor is making us write to familiar and when they get to writing their thesis they won't be able to keep a traditionally scholar like tone to their papers. I turned to the girl who was saying this and said, well that's the joy of writing a thesis. It's your topic and your project. You write however you want to write, and if you can make the thesis enjoyable to read by adding a touch of humanity to it then so much the better. Because really who wants to read sixty pages of description on the origin of the fork? I'd at least like to hear some amusing anecdotes on how the fork eventually evolved into the spork.
This thesis project is an UNDERGRADUATE thesis project, not a graduate one. And since it is such I feel we should be able to explore our topics in what ever fashion we would like. We have plenty of time in grad school to turn fully academic, why not get a chance with it now? Personally my thesis has the potential to be a bit more humorous than I'm letting it be, but I'm still letting some entertaining bits flow through.
So I have decided never to say the phrase, "Can I help you?" while working at the circ. desk, the reserves section yeah, but not at circ. It's just that every time I ask some one that they just stare blankly and thrusts books towards me. What would they like me to do with these books? Check them in, check them out, eat them? It makes so little sense. The only time I get an answer from a patron it's in the form of "Yes" then the thrusting of the books. As if I can read their minds, or would want to if I had the ability, which I don't (by don't I mean don't to both, want to know and be able to).
That's pretty much what I get all day at the library, people thrusting books into my face. No chit chat, they just want their books and not be told they have a $243 library fine for not returning a book. I've tried to get into some form of conversation with a few patrons, a girl checked out a few Ionesco books and I gave a few pointers on some other books that might help. I've asked people what class they're taking that requiers them to check out a book on the sexual ethics of early pagan practices. But all I get are monosylabic responces or "I'm not reading this for fun, it's for a class." My all time favorite comment was from this guy (possibly a jock though I'm not sure and don't want to generalize) who was checking out four or five juvinile books. He flet it was nessecary to let me know he was checking these out for a class and not for personal reasons (couldn't understand what was wrong with that though, I mean Jumaji is a freakin' fantastic read). The patron then went on about how this is the first time he'd ever check out a book from any library since his freshman year in highschool (he was a college junior at this point if memoriy serves), he's justification for this was, "Every thing I've needed to learn I learned on t.v. So why would I need to read, you know?" All I could do was say, "Well what ever works for you, these are due back October 13th." I had to resist the urge to point out how wrong he was and at the same time the urge to laugh my head off.
I'm constantly surprised by the discrepencies in intellect at this school. I know it's a state university but honestly some times I wonder how these people graduated from high school, let alone get into a college. There are some rather smart people here, many of which are not in the honors college. Ah the honors college, that's something that disturbs me. First off let me just say that I truely believe in the "Imposter" syndrome (the idea that you feel that you aren't really worthy of being in the position you are in, ie I'm in the honors college yet I don't think I'm smart enough), I never would consider myself honors college material, despite the fact that I have made it through several honors, or higher level courses through out college and high school. I've always told people in the honors college that I'm possibly one of the less honorsie students, and I feel a bit of a phoney when I have to tell people not in the program that I'm part of it. Then I look at the people who are actually in the program. Now, again, many of them are indeed smart, and I am in awe of them, but there are quite a decent amount of people I have no clue as to how the heck they managed to get into this program. I keep on comparing the new students to those in my own class when we were at their level and I'm still shocked. They all have big sticks up their asses. Yes we complained about the work, being in honors ment doing about 20 pages of writing each week for each class, as well as reading over 100 pages a night for each class. For a freshman that's a heavy work load, but one does get use to it. And we would help those who needed help, and even lent a hand to the new people. I don't see that any more. I just see people who have an elitest demener to themselves. So how do I counteract this? I put them in their place, of course. I'm in a class, for example, about science writing and several students are complaining that the professor is making us write to familiar and when they get to writing their thesis they won't be able to keep a traditionally scholar like tone to their papers. I turned to the girl who was saying this and said, well that's the joy of writing a thesis. It's your topic and your project. You write however you want to write, and if you can make the thesis enjoyable to read by adding a touch of humanity to it then so much the better. Because really who wants to read sixty pages of description on the origin of the fork? I'd at least like to hear some amusing anecdotes on how the fork eventually evolved into the spork.
This thesis project is an UNDERGRADUATE thesis project, not a graduate one. And since it is such I feel we should be able to explore our topics in what ever fashion we would like. We have plenty of time in grad school to turn fully academic, why not get a chance with it now? Personally my thesis has the potential to be a bit more humorous than I'm letting it be, but I'm still letting some entertaining bits flow through.
Tuesday, February 15
Aisle 34 and 3/4
Aisle 34 and 3/4: Bargin Music Bin
Current song in brain...
Where is my mind?~The Pixies
Ooooooh - stop
With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
But there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself
Where is my mind [3x]
Way out in the water
See it swimmin'
I was swimmin' in the
CarribeanAnimals were hiding behind the rock
Except the little fishBut they told me, he swears
Tryin' to talk to me to me to me
Where is my mind [3x]
Way out in the water
See it swimmin' ?
With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
If there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself
Where is my mind [3x]
Ooooh
With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Ooooh
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
OooohOoooh
Current song in brain...
Where is my mind?~The Pixies
Ooooooh - stop
With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
But there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself
Where is my mind [3x]
Way out in the water
See it swimmin'
I was swimmin' in the
CarribeanAnimals were hiding behind the rock
Except the little fishBut they told me, he swears
Tryin' to talk to me to me to me
Where is my mind [3x]
Way out in the water
See it swimmin' ?
With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
Your head will collapse
If there's nothing in it
And you'll ask yourself
Where is my mind [3x]
Ooooh
With your feet in the air and your head on the ground
Ooooh
Try this trick and spin it, yeah
OooohOoooh
Sunday, February 13
Aisle 10
Aisle 10: Soft Goods (tee hee)
Today soft goods relates to asses. Why? Because I need to rant about something, and for the most part asses are soft and would be found in the soft good department.
What do I have against the prosteriors of those around me? Nothing really. It is more that I have this need to rant about sweat pants. Sweat pants which have various words written on the ass of the wearer. WHY DO THAT?!? Ok so I'm guessing it's alright to stare at your ass if somethings written on it, right? But do I want to stare at your butt? Not really. Exspecially when written on your glutious-maximus are the letters S.C.S.U. Why are you acting as a rear ended billboard for our school? Are you proud that you go to a state school that consitantly hikes up tuition and lowers financial aid?
If you are going to have your ass writtten on why not make it something a bit more interesting than S.C.S.U. or BRATZ or even the enigmatic Dragon (is your butt scaley? Does it breath fire? If so I'd hate to imagine how much you spend on replacement ass lettered sweatpants). If your only reason to wear labled pants is so your behind will act as a focal point then why not just have "LOOK A BUTT!" written instead of Angel (Again is your ass heavenly? If it is then hi, how are you?).
And come to think of it, how embarassing (tee hee) that your friend is wearing the same pair of pink S.C.S.U. ass sweat pants.
(oh I said ass alot in this post...giggles abound!)
Today soft goods relates to asses. Why? Because I need to rant about something, and for the most part asses are soft and would be found in the soft good department.
What do I have against the prosteriors of those around me? Nothing really. It is more that I have this need to rant about sweat pants. Sweat pants which have various words written on the ass of the wearer. WHY DO THAT?!? Ok so I'm guessing it's alright to stare at your ass if somethings written on it, right? But do I want to stare at your butt? Not really. Exspecially when written on your glutious-maximus are the letters S.C.S.U. Why are you acting as a rear ended billboard for our school? Are you proud that you go to a state school that consitantly hikes up tuition and lowers financial aid?
If you are going to have your ass writtten on why not make it something a bit more interesting than S.C.S.U. or BRATZ or even the enigmatic Dragon (is your butt scaley? Does it breath fire? If so I'd hate to imagine how much you spend on replacement ass lettered sweatpants). If your only reason to wear labled pants is so your behind will act as a focal point then why not just have "LOOK A BUTT!" written instead of Angel (Again is your ass heavenly? If it is then hi, how are you?).
And come to think of it, how embarassing (tee hee) that your friend is wearing the same pair of pink S.C.S.U. ass sweat pants.
(oh I said ass alot in this post...giggles abound!)
Aisle 15
Aisle 15: The Lost Asile of the Abdura Islands
Day sixty-five. Found a letter wedged in between a grouping of three rocks, over by the ambula grove. I'm in the process of trying to decode the letter, however the hand writing is sloppy. I believe it to be some form of cry for help. The author of the text went to great lenghts to cover both sides of the paper in scrawl. What could it mean?
In other news my food supply has miraculously increased over night. I suspect there is some undiscovered tribe on this island that deems me worthy enough to keep me sustained. It is perplexing that I have yet to see any signs of these natives, though on clear days I can make out the faint sounds of some primitive music in the distance.
My attempts at making a raft seem hopeless, for every time I go to lash a ambula tree trunk to another I get this pain in a very remote part of my being. I feel this island has me under its spell, for I can no longer see any benefit to escaping back to the "modern and civilized" world. Perhaps if Suzie and Kayleb were still here I might give a more energenic attempt at leaving the island.
I'm begining to lose light. The days are going by so quickly. I must get the fire prepared before the night creatures of the island come out.
Day sixty-five. Found a letter wedged in between a grouping of three rocks, over by the ambula grove. I'm in the process of trying to decode the letter, however the hand writing is sloppy. I believe it to be some form of cry for help. The author of the text went to great lenghts to cover both sides of the paper in scrawl. What could it mean?
In other news my food supply has miraculously increased over night. I suspect there is some undiscovered tribe on this island that deems me worthy enough to keep me sustained. It is perplexing that I have yet to see any signs of these natives, though on clear days I can make out the faint sounds of some primitive music in the distance.
My attempts at making a raft seem hopeless, for every time I go to lash a ambula tree trunk to another I get this pain in a very remote part of my being. I feel this island has me under its spell, for I can no longer see any benefit to escaping back to the "modern and civilized" world. Perhaps if Suzie and Kayleb were still here I might give a more energenic attempt at leaving the island.
I'm begining to lose light. The days are going by so quickly. I must get the fire prepared before the night creatures of the island come out.
Thursday, February 10
Asile Two
Asile Two: http://www.weebls-stuff.com/toons/55/
Look at the mess in asile two. Asile two, that's where we saw the Rague! There's so much Rague!
Look at the mess in asile two. Asile two, that's where we saw the Rague! There's so much Rague!
Sunday, February 6
Asile 7
A return to Asile 7: Baking Needs
Rock on! I roasted a chicken!! It was tastey and it wasn't burnt. Moist and juicy, and now I have food for a few days. First chicken experience was a-ok! Now it's time to step it up a few notches and make more intense chicken! Chicken a la Southern Comfort!!! There must be a recipe, there simply must!
I think Tuesday I'll make a curry.
Rock on! I roasted a chicken!! It was tastey and it wasn't burnt. Moist and juicy, and now I have food for a few days. First chicken experience was a-ok! Now it's time to step it up a few notches and make more intense chicken! Chicken a la Southern Comfort!!! There must be a recipe, there simply must!
I think Tuesday I'll make a curry.
Saturday, February 5
Asile 34 and 3/4
Asile 34 and 3/4 the Bargin Music Bin
Did a first run of my show "Dead Air." Went kind of well had a lot to play, some stuff to talk about. Felt as good as when I was working at the other station. I don't know I just love three hour slots. So much music. So much opertunity to switch into several genres and cover a hell of alot of musical tastes.
I've noticed that my musical tastes have changed drastically through out the years. When I was in highschool I would only listen to either ska or punk rock (old punk rock), oh yeah and the Cure, how could I not? I eventually let more styles in and turned into one of those "Oh I like everything except country and rap." Which was so wrong, for I liked Johnny Cash and Ice T.
Once I hit college (and even to an extent the last half of senior year of high school) I started to get into indie music, Magnetic Fields, Moldy Peaches and the like. I also started to get into some hard core/emo. The emo lasted about a few seconds. How could I stand all that whining? I whined enough about being single I didn't want to have to hear it in my music. So I went back into ska to hide from the current music.
Then something odd happened. As I was working my second year as music director at WSIN I got a few CDs that I knew no one would ever play (at least no one at the station) and the bands were so different than anything I had previously listened to. Junior Seinor, Hidden Cameras, became lodged in my stereo and then came the day I heard Gogol Bordello for the first time and fell in love. Since then I've run around looking for bands on the fringe and going back to bands my sisters would listen to, I even tapped into the world music that my mom played on her radio show at WCNI.
I love music. All types. I've been to concerts for just about every genre I can think of and have only been disapointed by a few bands. I'm not fanatical about any one particular band, nor any one style of music. I'm not a scenester, though I know some people who are. I'm as punk as far as my attitude towards creating art goes but to lable me as a punk just doesn't fit any more. No lable fits, and that's fine by me.
Mix tapes are my poetry. A concert gives me life. I'd love to go out to a smokey jazz club and drink a martini, or go to a dive bar and drink a guiness as an art rock band blasts a cacophony of sounds out to the audience.
Did a first run of my show "Dead Air." Went kind of well had a lot to play, some stuff to talk about. Felt as good as when I was working at the other station. I don't know I just love three hour slots. So much music. So much opertunity to switch into several genres and cover a hell of alot of musical tastes.
I've noticed that my musical tastes have changed drastically through out the years. When I was in highschool I would only listen to either ska or punk rock (old punk rock), oh yeah and the Cure, how could I not? I eventually let more styles in and turned into one of those "Oh I like everything except country and rap." Which was so wrong, for I liked Johnny Cash and Ice T.
Once I hit college (and even to an extent the last half of senior year of high school) I started to get into indie music, Magnetic Fields, Moldy Peaches and the like. I also started to get into some hard core/emo. The emo lasted about a few seconds. How could I stand all that whining? I whined enough about being single I didn't want to have to hear it in my music. So I went back into ska to hide from the current music.
Then something odd happened. As I was working my second year as music director at WSIN I got a few CDs that I knew no one would ever play (at least no one at the station) and the bands were so different than anything I had previously listened to. Junior Seinor, Hidden Cameras, became lodged in my stereo and then came the day I heard Gogol Bordello for the first time and fell in love. Since then I've run around looking for bands on the fringe and going back to bands my sisters would listen to, I even tapped into the world music that my mom played on her radio show at WCNI.
I love music. All types. I've been to concerts for just about every genre I can think of and have only been disapointed by a few bands. I'm not fanatical about any one particular band, nor any one style of music. I'm not a scenester, though I know some people who are. I'm as punk as far as my attitude towards creating art goes but to lable me as a punk just doesn't fit any more. No lable fits, and that's fine by me.
Mix tapes are my poetry. A concert gives me life. I'd love to go out to a smokey jazz club and drink a martini, or go to a dive bar and drink a guiness as an art rock band blasts a cacophony of sounds out to the audience.
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