Oh man, you guys. You guys. I totally want to dominate the world with y'all. (My evol plan, since I suppose I should mention it? Backrubs. I shall make everyone succumb to me, one by one. With backrubs. I once started an entire row of people sitting on the steps down the house in our mainstage, giving the person sitting in front of them a backrub. It was glorious.)

Also? I ATE A STRAWBERRY LAST NIGHT & HAVEN'T DIED YET. I've been allergic to strawberries for about twenty years. If I'm still not dead, I consider this a minor victory. I don't think I'll eat more than one strawberry at a time though. Color me paranoid. Or just hive-y. (I was a bit itchy last night. But I think it was bug bites, not hives. I hope.)

Mmm. Strawberries.

So, speaking of things that I love, and gakking from loads of people on my flist--

I love

giving backrubs. Blueberries. Cheesecake. Pineapple pizza from Papa John's. Plosives and clickatives. Alliteration. Weskits. Rolled-up shirtsleeves. Acoustic guitars. Harmonies. Green trees and blue skies and horizons stretching out as far as the eye can see while driving on the interstate. The breeze. Fireflies. The changing of the seasons. Baking with my mom. Walking arm-in-arm with my friends. Visiting with old friends. Snuggling. Illya Kuryakin doing gymnastics. The cast of Barney Miller. Big Finish audios. Parker and Hardison. Builds and undercuts. People who know their shit. Water. Underwater archaeology. The 1830s. Words. Sunlight. Going underground by myself in a hoist in solid dark while singing Sinead O'Conner songs. Simon and Garfunkel lyrics, and Dean Martin's voice, and the Smother Brothers singing "Chocolate," and the intense comfort of happy memories. My nephew. My new car. My old car. Roses. Puppies. Cats. Making babies giggle. Making other people giggle. Giggling. Connections. The network of people that I know across this small world. The Indiana Dunes. Gage Park. Forest Park. Lake Storey. Fireworks. County roads. New experiences.

Poll #1421681 inquiring minds
Open to: All, detailed results viewable to: All, participants: 34

Do you like cheese?

So. Those nuclear wessels.

What are *your* plans for world domination? (It's good to compare notes.)

Pie or death?

Sunday afternoons.

And so, ladies and gents, once again it is that time of year when I get sick. (One of those times of year.) Apparently. This particular stuffed-up nose and sore throat and general feeling of unwell I usually associate more with being sick than, say, allergies or something, anyway.

Woo.

The even jollier part of this is that I have a friend visiting tomorrow, in the midst of my usual class and work schedule. So I can pass the sickness on, as it was passed on to me! Double woo.

Am categorically not panicking about papers to be written and books to be read this semester. Ohhhh no. Am above all that and am utterly cool and competent under fire. Nor am I freaking out about the tiny fact that I don't have my committee set up. Neeeeeever, not me, nosiree.

Ha.

Look at your LJ "interests" list. If you have fewer than 50 interests, pick every fifth one. If you have between fifty and seventy-five interests, pick every seventh one. If you have over seventy-five interests, pick every tenth one. If you have fewer than ten, pick all of 'em. List them on your LJ, and tell everyone exactly what it is about these things that interests you so much.
( Read more... )

Salieri tagged me for an OTP meme. Therefore I had to obey. (Hey, she co-rules the universe with me. Only I don’t think either of us have been paying very close attention to our duties…)

But I don't tend to think of myself as having OTPs. Just characters I gravitate toward.

( That said, here are my five most recurrent/long-standing/favorite/etc OTPs: )

I should go to bed now. Ho-hum.

That was a word somebody wrote on his short essay concerning the significance of the Communist Manifesto.

I took one look at it yesterday, when perusing my essays, and dissolved into near-hysterical laughter.

nsempress believes the author of said gibberish (which is in no way related to *my* dialect of gibberish) fell asleep while writing, woke up, attempted to erase and write what he *really* meant, and fell asleep again. I'm half-inclined to believe her.

I have a new song. It roughly goes to the tune of "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" and consists of this single chorus, repeated as necessay:

"I hate essays!
I hate essays!
I hate essays;
I hate grading essays!"

Remember this song, ladies and gentlemen, when you find yourself with a stack of any size, of handwritten or typed papers, waiting paitently for you to assign numbers and/or letter grades, along with comments in red ink (which do *not* say "WTF??" no matter how many times you may wish to write that in the margins).

I think if I'm not careful I'm going to turn into a labor/working-class historian. Or a revolutionary. Except I hate all the romantic rhetoric and blood, so the revolutionary business is probably out of the question. Thank goodness.

Now if you'll excuse me I'm going to go back and discover how many members of my 101 western civ class are in fact part of the bourgeoisie and how many are secretly yearning to overthrow the capitalist system. I may have to befriend those people.

I had--gasp!--a free night, entirely to myself. mistressfox and I went to grocery store (my car still works! whoopee, yee haw, yay hey hurray! Maybe when the snow melts off it, it'll take away all the bird crap too), I read fanfic, listened to music, watched SG-1, and have done almost nothing constructive or related to Rep Term at all in the past four hours.

Whee.

I adore our old men professors at this school. I love to see two or three of them sitting at a table in the Giz--or, a whole swarm of them taking over two or three tables!--eating lunch and talking. What are they talking about? Politics, sports, the glory days of their youth? I have no freaking clue. I don't really care. It's just so fun to see them all there.

Chris, one of the Rep Termers, had to shave his beard off. Since then, he keeps catching me unawares by reminding me of Avon from B7. It's amusing/disturbing. Chris isn't quite that OTT. Not *quite*.

We're all getting stranger and stranger as the term continues. And according to KC and Allison, I cause giddiness and talkative-ness simply by my presence. I could say it's all part of my evil and cunning plan to, dare I say it, rule the world, but that would be a lie. I still think I should get dramaturgical hours for giving company members backrubs, but.

verdancy is one of the most adorably odd people I know.

( Case in point. In which kipper-crumpets are had and fuckin' huge rats don't tap-dance. )

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, VERDANCY! *and yet another massive snuggle orgy, 'cos you just can't get enough of 'em*

( Oh, and quiz gakked from kbk. *shrug* )

Um, yes. Am quite giddy at the moment. Also just had a Tom Baker moment. Or maybe it was a Paul McGann moment? I had the riotously brown curly hair thing going on anyway. And I keep reciting lines in a desperate last-ditch attempt to get them memorized, so I wander across campus intoning, "Shivering, I left the tents of Agamemnon to listen." And then go, "Crap" 'cos I can't remember how the next line goes.

New away message for IM: "The first thing a geek says upon coming to a new land or civilisation: Take me to your library."

And I'd tell you about the jammies song, but I'd like people to think I have *some* kind of sanity.

( In which there is bad language, probable heresy, dissing of a god or two, and an invasion of Poland. Not necessarily in that order. )

Ahhh, Galesburg, how I love thy autumn rains. On the other hand, I have to drive 3.5 hours to St. Louis in an hour. Rain rain, go away / little Sally wants to play...

troyswann is my goddess (well, she does co-rule the Universe with me). Everyone, bow down before troyswann and wear a boonie in her honour. Oh, and write her drabbles, because she deserves them.

Woo! When I get back to my computer, I can fiddle about and put up more icons! Because I have a paid account! Woo-hoo!

:D

Tomorrow, I brave St. Louis traffic to drive to the other side of Missouri. I want my mommy. If I'm not back at school by Tuesday, somebody please send out a search party...actually, no; I might just have holed up in Forest Park and be refusing to leave the museums.

Acrobat Reader hates me. Hotmail dislikes me intensely. The Mac computer in the student lounge in Old Main appears to have a vendatta against me.

Stupid computers.

( Questionnaire borrowed from warinbabylon, 'cos I have nothing better to do since the Mac is bent on destroying my life. Well, it's not really, but I'm still irritated. )