EDCP exam took less than 25 minutes. I am made of awesome.

Also, did get hands on camera, so have been taking pictures of my day. I even got a few shots of our answer to ceiling cat. I should have the pictures (and my commentaries) up tomorrow.

Finally read Good Omens; oh, I am in love with Neil Gaiman. That's all I really have to say about that. (Corrugated iron and fish! Gay as a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide! Flaming Bentley! Ok, done now.)

Also watch both Mrs. Henderson Presents and Dirty Dancing simultaneously with the 'rents (don't ask...). The former is hilarious, plus it has naked people, so that's always fun. The latter I still haven't seen straight through, but I'm closer. It must also be noted that I'm rather pathetic, since Dirty Dancing makes me whimpery. Yes, I'm very silly.

There were other things I was going to say, but I've forgotten. Ah, well.

( Another Music Meme! )

The fuck, iTunes?

Ok, it's time for bed.

So apparently I'm just not a fan of absurdism. Just finished reading Beckett's Endgame and I want to rip out my eyes. I have no idea what Casey's going to quiz us on.

ANTH240 exam will not be cumulative, at least, so that's nice to know. Just have 113 this afternoon, and then I'm done with classes for the semester. The (theatre) department banquet is tonight, so after class I get to Nair my legs and let C straighten my hair and do my make-up. As much as getting dressed up and being presentable is fun, I'm not really looking forward to it. I just hope I can grab a table with people I know. It would suck to be stuck there with no one I know.

Version 3.5 of the study plan is to work on the bibliography tonight after the banquet, and then spend Friday researching and finishing that stupid paper. Saturday will be faking ANTH notes. Sunday will be reading the Aeneid, studying the ANTH notes, and dinner for Mother's Day. Monday evening I'll study for the CLAS exam, but then the rest of the week will be devoted to the actual exams and writing the second 113 paper. I can do it!

Also finished the Buddha and bonsai cross stitch, but I'm not counting it as done until it's framed and hanging on Mum's wall at work. I'd already decided to give it to her, but it was merely happy coincidence that I finished it so close to Mother's Day. I'm going to frame it after exams, and then I'll start the wizard and dragon one. Oh, and triannamaxwell, you'd said something about a sewing machine. If I give you the supplies and talk you through how to do it, could you help me turn a few of my finished patterns into pillows?

A meme and then off to class. I'll probably catch up on some of those things I've been meaning to post tonight between class and the banquet.

( Life Experiences (yeah, sorry, kind of silly) )

So it's definitely a good sign for a performance project when not only notes the professor has about your rehearsal are the ones that your group had already made amongst itself. And, better yet, she's letting us lead the class in a warm-up before the exam to get everyone to wake up. After the A- on the paper for that class, I'm rather optimistic about my final grade.

Still haven't gotten any work done on the first 113 paper. I don't know why I'm having so much trouble settling down and just doing it. I'm considering another change of plans and devoting Friday to the paper, Saturday to ANTH, Sunday to CLAS and ANTH, and then the week to 113.

Need you guys' advice on something. Starbucks just started a partnership with iTunes, which means that I got a free playlist (of random shit, haven't listened to it yet), and a free song of my choice. Suggestions? I have until mid-June to use the keycode. Also with that, I have a special site that lets me get a discount on Apple stuff, including iPods and big things. It's something I'm allowed to share with family and friends, so let me know if you're planning on buying stuff and I can send you a link.

A dump of fun links and things, and then I'm going to maybe devote some time to the damned bibliography of evil.

The Creation, if God were a programmer. Really amusing.

Linked to that, the awesomeness that is Mr. Deity. Not to be taken seriously, but really fucking funny.

Also stumbled across this, dun remember how. All-American Rejects' video for the song "Dirty Little Secret", which uses some of the PostSecret secrets. Video's not really related to the song, but it's still kind of cool.

The Letter Project: this guy writes real personalized letters to people if you give him your name and address. Looks interesting. I like getting mail.

That's all for now. Yanno, I should probably organize this randomness dump, maybe do it on some kind of schedule or something. *shrugs* Who knows?

Still need to rehash Remix/Redux and do a first 101 days update on Mission 101, but I'll get to those later.

Second exam done. I can breathe again.

Now, on to Remix editing!

I think this one is self-explanatory. There will be another one later today.

Theme for English B, Langston Hughes
The instructor said,

Go home and write
a page tonight.
And let that page come out of you--
Then, it will be true.

I wonder if it's that simple?
I am twenty-two, colored, born in Winston-Salem.
I went to school there, then Durham, then here
to this college on the hill above Harlem.
I am the only colored student in my class.
The steps from the hill lead down into Harlem,
through a park, then I cross St. Nicholas,
Eighth Avenue, Seventh, and I come to the Y,
the Harlem Branch Y, where I take the elevator
up to my room, sit down, and write this page:

It's not easy to know what is true for you or me
at twenty-two, my age. But I guess I'm what
I feel and see and hear, Harlem, I hear you:
hear you, hear me--we two--you, me, talk on this page.
(I hear New York, too.) Me--who?
Well, I like to eat, sleep, drink, and be in love.
I like to work, read, learn, and understand life.
I like a pipe for a Christmas present,
or records--Bessie, bop, or Bach.
I guess being colored doesn't make me not like
the same things other folks like who are other races.
So will my page be colored that I write?

Being me, it will not be white.
But it will be
a part of you, instructor.
You are white--
yet a part of me, as I am a part of you.
That's American.
Sometimes perhaps you don't want to be a part of me.
Nor do I often want to be a part of you.
But we are, that's true!
As I learn from you,
I guess you learn from me--
although you're older--and white--
and somewhat more free.

This is my page for English B.

...when you start it with a nervous breakdown in your therapist's office.

Welcome to Netu Hell, everyone.

Design, Robert Frost
I found a dimpled spider, fat and white,
On a white heal-all, holding up a moth
Like a white piece of rigid satin cloth--
Assorted characters of death and blight
Mixed ready to begin the morning right,
Like the ingredients of a witches' broth--
A snow-drop spider, a flower like a froth,
And dead wings carried like a paper kite.

What had that flower to do with being white,
The wayside blue and innocent heal-all?
What brought the kindred spider to that height,
Then steered the white moth thither in the night?
What but design of darkness to appall?--
If design govern in a thing so small.

Dear God, I'm an idiot.

Need food, then I must needs dive head-first into this studying thing.

WANTED
Melayne's Motivation to Work and Self-Control
REWARD OFFERED

Ugh.

Eight lectures' worth of notes. Four pages of terms to define. Three-four Greek plays to read.

And the Remix needs editing.

And I just want to go back to bed.

(Happy Easter, everyone who celebrates.)

Swear to God, Emily Dickinson would love angsty-emo-teenager!poetry. (And why all the dashes?)

I'm Nobody! Who are you?, Emily Dickinson
I'm Nobody! Who are you?
Are you – Nobody – too?
Then there's a pair of us?
Don't tell! they'd advertise – you know!

How dreary – to be – Somebody!
How public – like a Frog –
To tell one's name – the livelong June –
To an admiring Bog!

[spazzing about exams]

[spazzing about Remix]

[more spazzing about exams]

[something pithy about my utter lack of motivation to work]

[plan to do something that will most likely fall through]

[pithy comment about poem]

the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls, e.e.cummings
the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls
are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds
(also, with the church's protestant blessings
daughters, unscented shapeless spirited)
they believe in Christ and Longfellow,both dead,
are invariably interested in so many things-
at the present writing one still finds
delighted fingers knitting for the is it Poles?
perhaps. While permanent faces coyly bandy
scandal of Mrs. N and Professor D
....the Cambridge ladies do not care,above
Cambridge if sometimes in its box of
sky lavender and cornerless, the
moon rattles like a fragment of angry candy

This is not going to be a good weekend. Eugh.

Dear Mum, yelling at me about my grades is not useful. Stop. kthxbye

There will be a spastic, whiny emo post sometime this weekend. Feel free to ignore it.

One and a half poems today, because I had to share the programmer poem copperbadge put up today.

I like the first part best, I just think the whole thing is too long. (Note, some of the lines are indented, but I can't trick LJ into doing them that way.)

I Sing the Body Electric, Walt Whitman
1
I sing the body electric,
The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them,
They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them,
And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the charge of the soul.

Was it doubted that those who corrupt their own bodies conceal themselves?
And if those who defile the living are as bad as they who defile the dead?
And if the body does not do fully as much as the soul? And if the body
were not the soul, what is the soul?

( the rest gets cut, natch )

A final thought: Tropicana Peach Papaya Juice Drink (contains 5% juice) tastes like neither peach nor papaya. Discuss.

Mother Courage is a singularly depressing play. I'm still not a Brecht fan, and I hate his choice of structure, but I dislike him a little less now. (I'd really love to see Kattrin's thoughts on things.)

And oh dear, but I've figured out how to do Under the Gaslight as a J/D AU fic. I know velvetcherri wants be to write it, but if two other people goad me on, I'll do it.

I have so much homework tonight: essay on Mother Courage; essay comparing Antigone and Women of Trachis; eight lecture's worth of ANTH notes. This doesn't include the exams on Tuesday and Wednesday, plus the bibliography due sometime next week that I only have like a quarter of the sources for. I'm so dead.

And now the poem I picked for today is creepily fitting.

Because I could not stop for Death, Emily Dickinson
Because I could not stop for Death –
He kindly stopped for me –
The Carriage held but just Ourselves –
And Immortality.

We slowly drove – He knew no haste
And I had put away
My labor and my leisure too,
For His Civility –

We passed the School, where Children strove
At Recess – in the Ring –
We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –
We passed the Setting Sun –

Or rather – He passed us –
The Dews drew quivering and chill –
For only Gossamer, my Gown –
My Tippet – only Tulle –

We paused before a House that seemed
A Swelling of the Ground –
The Roof was scarcely visible –
The Cornice – in the Ground –

Since then – 'tis Centuries – and yet
Feels shorter than the Day
I first surmised the Horses' Heads
Were toward Eternity –