contentment

I think yesterday was the most perfect day I've had in quite some time. I was kept busy for pretty much the duration, but it wasn't a rushed kind of busy, and almost everything I did was new or interesting or otherwise not boring and required.

I had classes in the morning, which were fairly unremarkable, except that I managed not to fall asleep in World Music, which was nice. Then there was lunch and an hour's break and I was off to work until four.

At four, I went to the Caxton Club reading in Old Main. I'd never been to a CC event before, but I'd meant to on numerous occasions, and the reader at this particular one was Cyn Kitchen. I was in her Beginning Fiction Writing class last year and loved it, so I figured now was a good opportunity to actually make it to the event. I was very glad I did—she's a wonderful writer, and great to listen to.

Then it was home for dinner and then back to Old Main at six for a discussion about what it means to be an environmentalist. It was part of the Environmental Awareness Week and sponsored by the Philosophy Club, another organization by which I've always been vaguely intrigued but never actually got around to checking out a meeting. I enjoyed the discussion immensely, and even contributed a bit in the latter half, which I hadn't expected to do.

After that, I headed upstairs for the weekly movie for American Studies. This week's selection was a pair of one-hour documentaries about the Black Power movement; I watched the first one, but decided to leave at before the second, partially because I was slightly bored and afraid of falling asleep, but mostly because I just really really wanted to go to ballroom. (I'll still have to get the second documentary from the library and watch it this weekend, but that's okay, because it's much easier to stay awake and attentive watching in my own living room in the mid-afternoon than in a dark classroom.)

Ballroom was, as always, grand. I haven't gotten to go to many of the Thursday night practices this term (because of the movies), and it was encouraging to see the healthy number of people (and especially leaders) in attendance. And of course, the other nice part of going on Thursdays is that I get to practice my leading, which I'm growing to enjoy quite a bit at times.

After ballroom, I was kind of wanting to go to Jazz Night at McGillacuddy's, and at first nobody really seemed into it, but then Tony and Allison decided they wanted to go, so the three of us headed over and hung out there for awhile. Then we came back and I sat in the living room and chatted with Tasha and Sara and Dan for a bit, until I fell asleep in the bean bag chair and Sara woke me up and made me go to bed. It was, all in all, a very full and interesting day, and I wish I had more days like that, but alas, homework seems so often to render such things impossible.

Damn you, Doublemint!

I have been scouring the vast interwebs off and on for the past three hours for a particular Doublemint Gum commercial, and it's driving me bat-shit insane. I remember it from when I was fairly little; the only lyrics I could remember initially were the last few lines: Double your pleasure, double your fun, that's the statement of the great mint in Doublemint gum. For awhile I thought I was nuts, but Google finally reaffirmed my sanity with this hit, confirming that, if I was hallucinating the ad, at least it was a shared hallucination.

If anybody else remembers this, or better yet can find a clip somewhere online, I'd greatly appreciate hearing about it before I go completely mad. As I said, I was pretty young at the time (think early 90s). And FYI, It's not this one, this one, this one, or this one, and most certainly not this one.

And no, I really do not have a life. We've established this.

The moose is on the loose!

The Knox ballroom moose, that is. I guess you kinda had to be there...

Anyway, the competition Saturday at U of I was strange and horrific and wonderful in various ways, much like last year. There are a number of things about which I could complain (east coast swing is NOT best danced to jive music, thank you very much!), and a number of other things about which I could rave (the dancing M.C.!), but I've neither the time nor the energy at this point, and it probably wouldn't be very interesting or coherent to anyone who wasn't there anyway.

Our team as a whole made a decent showing, especially for being a small team from a tiny school, which was nice. As for me personally, I led three dances and followed in five others, so I felt comfortably occupied throughout the day. I'm sure my leading of the foxtrot was abominable, and I felt kind of bad for Katie, the dear, whose following skills I put to the test. I also was not the most brilliant leader in E.C. swing (advanced group, yikes!), but Jen is a doll and we both agreed that we were just out there to have fun, which we did. And honestly, even though we didn't place, I do feel like I did quite well for having very limited experience with swing leading, even successfully throwing in a move I'd picked up only moments before going on the floor.

Elisa and I made finals in beginner E.C. swing (she led), in group A (the "good" group, to put it quite bluntly and not very accurately), and ended up taking 5th, which made me very happy. Even more exciting, Chrissy and I made finals in cha-cha (with me leading!) and took 6th, which was pretty much the best thing ever. Don even complimented us on our cha-cha-ing, which pleased me greatly, because I often don't feel like I do much that's particularly compliment-worthy in ballroom, and I also feel like Don doesn't generally give undeserved compliments.

And I can't forget to mention that we had Greek food for lunch and Indian for dinner. And don't forget the Moonstruck Café. These are, of course, the important parts of any ballroom competition.

Success!

I must say, there is nothing quite like the adrenaline rush one gets by printing off a paper fifteen minutes before it's due, only to realize that the printer's out of ink and one must make a mad dash across campus to Founders to print it off and then to Old Main to turn it in, and accomplishing all this in only seven minutes. God love bicycles.

And now I can sit here and bask in the lovely post-midterm glow, brooding contentedly about the meaning of life on this rainy Wednesday afternoon. Glorious.

so much information...

It all started with a Google search for a slightly more in-depth definition of "periphrasis," because for once, dictionary.com's terseness just wasn't enough.

It ended up being a multi-hour jaunt through Wikipedia, learning more than I ever needed to know about rhetorical devices, speech impediments, and autism spectrum disorders.

It is for situations like this that I both love and hate Wikipedia, in fairly equal measures. I got no studying done, nor did I begin my midterm paper that's due on Wednesday. However, I did find out that there is a name for the way I don't say my 's'es quite properly—it is a (slight) lateral lisp. Fascinating.

malaria

So, there was a blood drive today. I signed up for it a few weeks ago, and then I was a little worried, because I had to get that tetanus shot and I wasn't sure if that would disqualify me from donating.

Well, turns out a tetanus shot is okay (as long as you don't show any symptoms, which I didn't), but my trip to Costa Rica in March is not, and I shouldn't have been allowed to donate when I did in May. The reason they didn't catch it was because both the places I stayed are not malaria-risk areas. However, we traveled by land through malaria-risk areas, which the lady then didn't ask about, and I didn't think to say. So, I'm ineligible until next March.

On the one hand, I understand the need for rules like this, and the fact that they can't make any exceptions, etc., etc. On the other hand, we drove straight through, in a closed car with the windows up. I can say with 100% certainty that I did not get any mosquito bites during the journey. It's a bit frustrating.

Ah well. Guess the vampires at the Red Cross will have to wait a bit for my malaria-tainted blood.

a declaration

As of the end of fall term, I will have achieved junior status. This means I have to declare my major before the end of term.

There's really no question of what to declare; I've known for awhile now that I want to do creative writing. But putting it on paper makes it so official. I'm not some aimless first year wandering through my classes anymore; I've got a purpose and a goal.

In some ways, that thought is very pleasant. It does have a certain sadness to it, though.

My mind is wracked by ambivalence.