A Warning

I’m sitting in the MCSA office right now, discussing White Russians, and generally avoiding the five papers that are looming over my head.

I also want to issue a general warning for the upcoming two weeks:

I have five papers to write, two finals to sit, five senior seminars to attend, several shifts to work, several friends to say goodbye to, and an apartment to clean/pack up.  I also need ample time for nostalgia.  You know, “this is the last time I’ll leave Morris for the summer knowing I’ll be back in the Fall.”

The point is, don’t expect a lot from me post-wise until school is over.  It is one of my summer goals to bring you higher quality posts on a daily basis, but until then, bear with me.


Science Building Again

No Mamma Mia post tonight.  Probably tomorrow, though.

I’m currently in the bowels of the Science Building, finishing up a presentation for tomorrow, and trying to stay awake.

I spent the first twenty minutes of the bus ride (back to Morris) working on my PowerPoint, and then promptly slept for the next two and a half hours.

I’ve been groggy ever since, and am looking forward to my bed and to even more sleep.  Maybe this is my body preparing for the grueling two weeks ahead.

Five papers, one presentation, and two finals to go.

Mamma Mia

Tonight, taking a break from paper writing and stats calculations and tuna salad (which I make often because it’s easy and can be eaten on toast), I will be driving to the Twin Cities with my lovely mother to see Mamma Mia at the Orpheum.

We will be dressing up, we will be eating dinner (advised by the Star Tribune’s Taste Section) on the town, and the event will be heavily documented by me and my point-and-shoot.

Expect evidence tomorrow.


I’m Here Til Thursday

Yes, I missed a day, but here’s the excuse: I’ve been in the University Register office since 6:30.  Seven hours.  Copy editing.

To be fair, however, me and the team have done more than copy edit.  We’ve discussed the merits of the Oxford Comma.  We’ve discussed the former Disney Channel show Fillmore (Remember, ’90s kids?).  We’ve made an ominously long and unbearably awesome bucket list for next year.  We’ve stolen a stuffed fish from the Assistant to the Editor in Chief and held it for ransom.

And now, surrounded by spilled bags of popcorn, piles of yellowing newspapers, sleep-deprived teenagers, and the random Al Franken campaign poster, I’m experiencing, for the first time, what it feels like to wait around for writers to submit their damn articles.

While I wait, I’ll show you some pictures of my shady new office:

Note the framed photograph of an unidentified man on the windowsill. Nadine, the graduating HCE, claims she was last person to know who the man is, and she's forgotten. Unsettling, at best.

Artsy ceiling shot. I couldn't resist.

Lofty Aspirations

It’s a beautiful thing, really; I have no stats to do, no history, no honors.  I only have a fiction story to finish, and all night with which to finish it.

This will probably be my third night in a row with only a few hours of sleep, but honestly, if I’m going to stay up for anything, I’m going to stay up to write this story.

I’m going to see it through to the end, as they say, and then if what I have in the morning is crap, at least it will be crap that I believed in intensely while I wrote it.

Although I don’t know what that says about me.  That I believe in crap?

No, here’s what I believe:

“From things that have happened and from things that you know and all those you cannot know, you make something through your invention that is not a representation but a whole new thing truer than anything true and alive, and you make it alive, and if you make it well enough, you give it immortality.  That is why you write, and for no other reason.”

Well…that’s the aspiration, anyway.  I’m not quite at Mr. Fitzgerald’s level, admittedly.

The Small Town Theater

Stats midterm tomorrow.

American Tropics Lit. essay outline due tomorrow.

I may be pulling my first legitimate all-nighter of the year.

Also, I have watched this trailer at least three times a day for the past few days, and while I will certainly find a way to see it come July 25th, it’s unfortunate that movies like this don’t come to small-town theaters.  Because small-town folks obviously can’t appreciate the low-budget quirkiness that is an Indie Film.  No, give us Transformers 3.  Give us The Lucky One.  Give us anything and everything with Nicholas Cage, and we’ll be perfectly happy.  We’ll even leave our pitchforks outside the theater.