Rembrandt : Toothpaste :: Van Gogh : Cutting Your Own Damn Ear Off
No journalism class today, so I'm taking the opportunity to get my thoughts in order before my day starts.
Thoughts.
Ok.
Ok.
Oh, who am I kidding, I'm going to fix my major cards, grab something to eat, come back and watch baseball.
Actually, I've got quite a bit of work to do this week - a test on Thursday, need to talk to my Macroevolution prof about possible projects, my journalism prof about possible projects . . . and my Ecology prof about possible projects . . . oh jesus christ I'm screwed unless I get my head on my shoulders. I can write papers like no one's business, but when it comes to experimental design (Ecology), presentations (Ecology and Macro), and a series of interviews requiring actual interaction with people (journalism), I'm not quite as comfy.
I guess the moral of the story is to screw comfy and sit on the damn tack. Or something like that.
I've also got to start applying for more jobs - I got a little discouraged after nothing came out of this last round, so I've been avoiding them. I've got to get back on track there. And find me a 9-5. Or two. I'm actually looking forward to getting out of college and working forty, fifty, sixty hour weeks, as weird as that sounds. Essentially, I need the change of pace. And I find I work better with that motivation too.
Mike Hunter's new song sounds good - ask him for it.
I really can't stop with my ESPN criticism - I actually like Chris Berman; he's amusing broadcasting football, and he's better broadcasting baseball, but he's really got to stop with the idiotic nicknames (like Melvin "Mora mora" Mora - and that's one of the better ones). He makes them up faster than George Bush. And they're dumber too.
I realized yesterday that I had spent the weekend, two sunny, 60 degree, clear days in which frisbees were out and clothes were off, inside downloading and then listening to Nine Inch Nails. That made me feel warm and fuzzy in a nihilistic kind of way.
Hee hee. Nihilism.
Speaking of warm and fuzzy, does this story make my adolescence disturbed, or merely irreverent/borderline racist?
For some reason or another (I think we were bored in Spanish class), my friends and I decided that the answer to the pseudo-riddle "Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear / Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair / If Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair / Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't really fuzzy, wuzzy?" was that Fuzzy Wuzzy was a black man. Maybe we had just saw Pulp Fiction or something. I don't know.
No, I think we were just horrible children. Please don't stop talking to me.
I want a Guiness. But not now. Must focus on day ahead.
Thoughts.
Ok.
Ok.
Oh, who am I kidding, I'm going to fix my major cards, grab something to eat, come back and watch baseball.
Actually, I've got quite a bit of work to do this week - a test on Thursday, need to talk to my Macroevolution prof about possible projects, my journalism prof about possible projects . . . and my Ecology prof about possible projects . . . oh jesus christ I'm screwed unless I get my head on my shoulders. I can write papers like no one's business, but when it comes to experimental design (Ecology), presentations (Ecology and Macro), and a series of interviews requiring actual interaction with people (journalism), I'm not quite as comfy.
I guess the moral of the story is to screw comfy and sit on the damn tack. Or something like that.
I've also got to start applying for more jobs - I got a little discouraged after nothing came out of this last round, so I've been avoiding them. I've got to get back on track there. And find me a 9-5. Or two. I'm actually looking forward to getting out of college and working forty, fifty, sixty hour weeks, as weird as that sounds. Essentially, I need the change of pace. And I find I work better with that motivation too.
Mike Hunter's new song sounds good - ask him for it.
I really can't stop with my ESPN criticism - I actually like Chris Berman; he's amusing broadcasting football, and he's better broadcasting baseball, but he's really got to stop with the idiotic nicknames (like Melvin "Mora mora" Mora - and that's one of the better ones). He makes them up faster than George Bush. And they're dumber too.
I realized yesterday that I had spent the weekend, two sunny, 60 degree, clear days in which frisbees were out and clothes were off, inside downloading and then listening to Nine Inch Nails. That made me feel warm and fuzzy in a nihilistic kind of way.
Hee hee. Nihilism.
Speaking of warm and fuzzy, does this story make my adolescence disturbed, or merely irreverent/borderline racist?
For some reason or another (I think we were bored in Spanish class), my friends and I decided that the answer to the pseudo-riddle "Fuzzy Wuzzy was a bear / Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair / If Fuzzy Wuzzy had no hair / Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn't really fuzzy, wuzzy?" was that Fuzzy Wuzzy was a black man. Maybe we had just saw Pulp Fiction or something. I don't know.
No, I think we were just horrible children. Please don't stop talking to me.
I want a Guiness. But not now. Must focus on day ahead.
posted by Satchmo | 9:54 AM
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