Last Sunday I was in Edinburgh, last Saturday I was tooling around the Scottish highlands, failing to understand basic capitalization rules (capitolization? nah. capitalism! capitolism. shit). In 24 hours I will be in Prague. On Saturday I will be in Budapest. A year ago I was in Duluth. Last summer I was in South Dakota. Four years and two months ago I was in Taiwan. In a few weeks I will be everywhere. I am divided. I am doing homework for Wednesday but not for 11.5 hours from now.
“High school was the best of times, it was the time for crass literary references.”
I did not need to get wine drunk with the Chancellor tonight; everyone else had that covered. I hear Cindy is ill. That makes me sad. I am entirely booked up for hostels for spring break (minus 2 nights in London and one night in Oxford; I am open for change!). I think getting to Nice from Amsterdam two weeks from Saturday is possible, but I am going to need to figure out reservations. Halp!
Why can I not even finish one paper let alone three thousand words? That sentence was originally going other places.
Last night I dreamt I was in a train station. It occurs to me that these situations which are quite likely currently will be completely gone in only a few months. I never freaking sit in train stations in America. Anywho, I think I was with Maren on a bench when I saw two boys walk by. The whole thought process of “are they?” ran through my head, as it does in real life. Naturally they sat down next to me and started talking about gay things. I think I had a telepathic link to the one in a green hoodie with a trendy mullet. “Are you dating?” “No, we're partners–we hold hands.” The thing about just being “partners” and “holding hands” was so funny in the dream I wrote it down… in the dream. Lately I have been paying attention to my dream environments more, but I am unsure if my recollections are real or mere creations, filling in the gap once awake. The train station got dark and blurry on the edges, sort of like some scenes in Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind
none of these words will help me in my memoir. none of these words jumpstart my film paper. these words cannot be added to my wordcount for art and museums. i have been reduced to caring about numbers and not content. augh. i kinda think mr. fancy art and museums professor is going to give me a bad grade anyway. i don't feel like accurately citing my references, so i am setting up an ensurance trap. i will deserve whatever grade i get.
everyone is freaking out about homework. i had forgotten i have a big midterm on tuesday with roosy. oops.
Why cannot I not stick to propper grammar in these entries? That's wicked cool. I like that! Er, what?
Prague is probably not going to be any more whimsical this time around, is it? Ack. I have been hyperish lately (too much tea?). I have lost my CD player. Den Caney is a bitch, and by that I mean Steve should not have so many days off of work. Lacks ethos.
I get ethos, pathos, and logos for now. Modernism and post modernism are still not ingrained in me. Neither is the difference between modern and contemporary art. I am working on it. Who wants to talk about Duchamp and eroticism? eh? eh?
Leonard Cohen, you are not helping. I don't need you either. I need you. I don't need you.
It is going to be a long night. I need more small tasks to accomplish because papers are not going well. I do not think it has ever been this hard to write about myself before. Ha. I need to tell the story of ÅRHUS.
(I choose hostels based soley on names, sometimes even on names of nearby streets. I am staying at Villa St. Exuperay in Nice because of the Little Prince, which I thought was just a coincidence. The website is themed that way, it seems. Score! I am staying at some random place in Paris because it is near a street bearing Voltaire's name–I like Voltaire!)
“Look up at the sky, ask yourself, 'has the sheep eaten the flower? yes or no' and you'll see how everything changes.”
“A + B = C divided by X, therefore the sheep is necessarily and red and must die of scab!” (Candide is a retelling of Utopia which is a retelling of Republic. Insert time span here. 1984 is a retelling of… A Brave New World…. Anthem… The Giver… Goatse. Shit–actually, no, Goatse does fit. It's definitely anti-utopian.)