Only The Bear Has Time For Shenanigans

I’m working in the Humanities building tonight, turning on my cell phone light whenever I have to enter the dark hallways to get a drink.

There is pop art on the wall; four framed pictures put together spell out “damn everything but the circus.”

Indeed.

There have been few shenanigans this weekend, unfortunately, as I’m strapping in for the busiest few weeks of my life.  I did, however, do some ill-advised climbing (location undisclosed) that may have left me bruised and sore.  Entirely worth it to get to the top, however.

I was convinced to run for/ran for/won the position of Head Copy Editor at UMM’s newspaper, the University Register.  Not my ideal spot, but a spot I think I’ll enjoy that entails minimal all-nighters in the UR office.  Plus, I get my own office.  When have I ever had my own office?  Never!

In closing, here is a video a friend showed me in the MCSA office this evening.  It was shot by his uncle, who also plays the role of the green-booted bear-warner:

Note: The fun begins at 1:40.

 

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We All Want to Change the World

My history professor played this video in class yesterday afternoon:

And then, shaking his head at the Bieber and Gaga fans in the room, he said, “There are some of us who believe that history ended in 1970 when the Beatles broke up.”

 

Friday Night

Dance Ensemble had their first performance of the weekend this evening.  I arrived for my Higbies shift during intermission, ducking beneath glittering arms and flinching away from heavily-lined eyes, hardly recognizing my friends amongst the intimidating dancers.

Behind the counter, Olivia was glad to see me.  Her forehead shone with sweat, and her sleeves were rolled up.  As soon as the line broke, she bolted, grabbing her backpack and apologizing as she vaulted the low gate.

I watched her retreating figure for a moment, and then reluctantly turned to the first customer in line.  He wanted a mocha.

“No specialty drinks during intermission, sir.  I’m sorry.”

The man frowned, considering his options on the sign behind me.

“I’ll have a mango smoothie, then.”

“That’s a specialty drink.”

He gave me a withering stare and walked away, proceeding to spend the next five minutes bad-mouthing me to his wife, who seemed terribly embarrassed about the entire situation.  Her face might have been even more flushed had she known I could hear everything they said.

Using his starched elbows to push his way through the crowd surrounding the counter, the Student Activities director, Dave, came around to stand next to me.  He claimed sanctuary, taking deep breaths of aquanet-free air.

“I’m on drama duty tonight,” Dave explained.

“Drama duty?  You mean backstage?”

“Yeah.  Apparently some dancers aren’t happy with their choreographers right now.”

“Oh man.”

We stood in silence for a few more minutes, me awkwardly leaning against the pastry case, Dave scanning the horde for signs of rebellion.

When the lights flickered, signaling the end of intermission, he turned to me again: “Call me if you see any bitch slapping.”

“Will do.”

Like Nancy Drew

Thursday has come through once again.

I had an epiphany in statistics this morning, which meant that I gasped and reeled back in my chair and ignored the stares of my peers.  And then I looked to the heavens with the glorious realization that Tuesday’s midterm may leave me alive after all.  Because, my friends, I understand confidence intervals.  And p-values.  And how to write conclusions without assuming you know more than you actually do.

It’s a miraculous thing, especially coming from the girl who frequently struggles with basic arithmetic.

Next was Gender and Sexuality in Literature of the American Tropics, which I’ve come to enjoy immensely.  We finished reading “Down These Mean Streets” last night, and did a sort of wrap-up in class today.  And I had a heck of a lot to say.  I may have been a bit annoying, actually, but the ideas just kept coming: homosexuality as being portrayed as institutionalized at Comstock, Christianity as both creating opportunities and limiting them, the fact that ‘heart’ in the book is ironically externalized instead of internalized…

Here’s one of the things I love about being an English major:

There’s a moment, whenever you read a piece of literature, when suddenly all of the content falls away, and you’re left with historical context, form, literary theory, etc.  And you begin to see the work not as a mere story, but as a conglomeration of elements put together just so to create many greater truths.  It’s a Nancy Drew when she solves a mystery and rides off in her baby blue convertible sort of feeling.

And I can’t think anything better.

People Who Should Not Be Drawing Giraffes

While I appreciate life blogs, food blogs, fashion blogs (sort of), and news blogs, I think the blogs I enjoy reading the most are the uncategorized blogs.  The blogs that exist, seemingly, to bring random topics to the internet, but that really exist to remind us all that no matter how bad things get, no matter how many GOPs pull out, or how many unsuspecting teenagers are forced over to Facebook Timeline, there will always be minor (and major) celebrities willing to draw giraffes on cocktail napkins.

And there will always be people willing to blog about it.

Joshua Preston, cofounder of G.D.B.P.W.S.N.B.D.G., is a friend of mine, but that’s not why I’m plugging his blog.  I’m plugging it because we need more poorly drawn giraffes in the world.

And fewer GOP candidates (my feelings, not his).

Here’s the link.  Check it out:

Giraffes Drawn By People Who Should Not Be Drawing Giraffes

 

Here’s What’s Happening

Here’s what’s happening:

1.  I’m desperately trying to figure out what to do with my summer.  So far I have research that will last until the end of July, a few hours of an office job that will last until the end of June, and a solar systems class that could potentially kick my butt (but that would get rid of my very last gen. ed.).  But I don’t have an official job that will earn me a decent amount of money.  And this, for a girl who’s planning on graduate school, is problematic.  I’ve had two interviews so far, one for groundskeeping and one for a crazy job that would entail peddling gas cards to various local businesses.  I didn’t get either position, which I guess is good as neither of them sounded like they were up my alley, but still.  I think my only option may be to beg for a library position.  I just want to get this all straightened out because I have bigger fish to fry right now (see below).

2.  I have six papers to write before the end of the semester.  The semester ends on May 11th.  I also have two large final exams to take.  I also have a presentation to put together.  I also have to do basic things, like eat, sleep, and attempt social interaction.

3.  As my Politics and Film class is two hours long, we traditionally have a ten minute break after the first hour.  During said break this evening, half the class (led by the professor, I might add) went into an informational session that was taking place down the hall, and stole leftover pizza.  And cookies.  And no one stopped us.

4.  My second short story for Advanced Fiction Writing has progressed exactly a paragraph.  It’s about cannibalism in space.  And when/if I ever get a large chunk of time during which to sit down and write it, I will be absolutely thrilled.