Quote, passage, & poem from A Severe Mercy by Sheldon Vanauken, 'An Encounter With Light':

One day later there came the second intellectual breakthrough: it was the rather chilling realisation that I could not go back. In my old easy-going theism, I had regarded Christianity as a sort of faith tale; and I had neither accepted nor rejected Jesus, since I had never, in fact, encountered him. Now I had. The position was not, as I had been comfortably thinking all these months, merely a question of whether I was to accept the Messiah or not. It was a question of whether I was to accept Him - or reject. My God! There was a gap behind me, too. Perhaps the leap to acceptance was a horrifying gamble--but what of the leap to rejection? There might be no certainty that Christ was God--but, by God, there was no certainty that He was not. If I were to accept, I might and probably would face the thought through the years: 'Perhaps, after all, it's a lie; I've been had!' But if I were to reject, I would certainly face the haunting, terrible thought: 'Perhaps it's true--and I have rejected my God!'
This was not to be borne. I could not reject Jesus. There was only one thing to do, once I had seen the gap behind me. I turned away from it and flung myself over the gap towards Jesus.

THE GAP

Did Jesus live? And did he really say
The burning words that banish mortal fear?
And are they true? Just this is central, here
The Church must stand or fall. It's Christ we weigh.

All else is off the point: the Flood, the Day
Of Eden, or the Virgin Birth--Have done!
The Question is, did God send us the Son
Incarnate crying Love! Love is the Way!

Between the probable and proved there yawns
A gap. Afraid to jump, we stand absurd,
Then see behind us sink the ground and, worse
Our very standpoint crumbling.
Desperate dawns
Our only hope: to leap into the Word
That opens up the shuttered universe.

-----

I have been enjoying this book very much, so you should expect to see at least a few more quotes & such in the near future.

From The Silver Chair:

Most of the gang were there- Adela Pennyfather and Cholmondely Major, Edith Winterblott, "Spotty" Somer, Big Bannister and the two loathsome Garret twins. But suddenly they stopped. Their faces changed, and all the meanness, conceit, cruelty and sneakishness almost all disappeared in one single expression of terror. For they saw the wall fallen down, and a lion as large as a young elephant lying in the gap and three figures in glittering clothes with weapons in their hands rushing down upon them. For, with the strength of Aslan in them, Jill plied her crop on the girls and Caspian and Eustace plied the flats of their swords on the boys so well that in two minutes all the bullies were running like mad, crying out, “Murder! Fascists! Lions! It isn’t fair!”

So when one of my siblings torments me I cry "Murder! Fascists! Lions! It isn't fair!" (The last bit always gets me...!) It goes well with "I object to that remark very strongly."

I read Magician's Nephew yesterday (and have been quoting the venerable Bulldog as many times as possible since then--see title). Long and short of it is, I contracted stomach flu early this morning, so any recent events are bound to be gruesome, painful, or at best extremely dull. (I am feeling better, and expect to be nearly mended by tomorrow...with perhaps the exception of the blood vessels on my face. Mehh.)

Well, alright, if you want me to summarize my day, I shall: I listened to three sermons, slept several hours, drank two cups of black tea, ate half a package of saltine crackers and a cup of jello, cackled over too many old episodes of Beverly Hillbillies, and watched Prince Caspian. A very profitable day, as I'm sure you can tell.

Anyway, I found this little gem of a passage in the aforementioned work of literature, and I thought (rather than writing a post on regurgitation) I might share it with the rest of you.

Coming from the last chapter or somewhere thereabouts, when Aslan sends them home:

Both the children were looking up into the Lion's face as he spoke these words. And all at once (they never knew exactly how it happened) the face seemed to be a sea of tossing gold in which they were floating, and such a sweetness and power rolled about them and over them and entered them that they felt they had never really been happy or wise or good, or even alive and awake, before. And the memory of that moment stayed with them always, so that as long as they both lived, if ever they were sad or afraid or angry, the thought of all that golden goodness, and the feeling that it was still there, quite close, just round some corner or just behind some door, would come back and make them sure, deep down inside, that all was well.

Because all is well,
-I.S.

The next two weeks are Dead/Finals weeks, respectively, and I shall be slogging through whatever amount of material I need to learn for my exams/papers. Thus in all probability I will not have much time for blogging and will not blog. All of this, of course, rests on the D.V. factor, but at least keep your expectations lower than low... and in the meantime, enjoy the quote.

God bless,
Inky

I've been struggling a bit with letting that bit of Isaiah 64 swallow up the power of God to redeem... so I've been trying to balance that piece of truth with another that's in I Corinthians 15:56-58.

The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law. But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ.

Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.

I am very thankful for this. When I say I am nothing without Christ, it's not just a trite bit of Christian phraseology designed to prop up a sense of our neediness for Christ--because I can't seem to grasp any assurance that my life and what I am working at right now is going anywhere worthwhile apart from him.

I'm honestly too busy to post anything else, but since this is what's really going on I figure it counts.

But now, O LORD, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.

I don't post photos generally, but these are just too good to pass up. I was on my way out the door yesterday morning when I caught my younger sister at the sink, blissfully...well... let's just say we've finally figured out why it takes her so long to do the dishes.


...where did she get that?


...oh.


It crawled down her arm, back into the depths whence it came.


Yeah, those dishes are getting pretty clean! (Note the fabulous bedhead 'do).


Going for a record. Or something.


Caught in mid-pop!


"For the record, I've been this way the whole time...the other photos are just...cleverly photoshopped."

(Title selected because if they made colored pencils long enough to draw on the ceiling from one's bed, this little goofball would buy out every store in town.)

Dani told me my blog was boring because it was "all words." I disagree (that "all words" constitute "boring"...I will not be so vain as to deny that a blog filled with nothing but my words is boring...). So in the spirit of disagreeing with her, I'm doing exactly as she suggested--taking all the pictures off my camera that have been collecting for the last semester and posting all the ones that I like.


This is one of those "others" in the title. Mutti brought us this enormous cocoon and we hatched it in our old frog tank. The poor thing was limp and weak and I do doubt that it survived, but there was something beautiful about its frailty.


We found this guy in a tree one day. I was fascinated, but a certain matriarchal authority (I think that sounds more imposing than "mom") would not allow me to get any closer. This would be the enmity thang.


The loveliness of all the snakey coils...I've got chills.


Heads or tails?


The spirit of our garden: one in which the weeds grow so much more heartily than the flowers that we feel compelled to take pictures of their (the weeds') great beauty before we pull them.


Sunset.


Sunrise.


The essence of Fall: smudged with dead leaves and broken sticks.


So I've been in love with the way the light hits these trees in the morning pretty much since we moved here...


...which might be why I can't resist taking picture after picture...


...and sometimes you just have to step back to get another, bigger picture.


These last ones (sunrise and light on trees) were taken this morning, in case anyone's wondering. It's been a while since I went about with a coat over my pajamas and took sunrise pictures, but I resumed the habit this morning with much delight.


Love this road...with its badly-done city-commissioned patchwork and funny grooves and the way it practically melts and squishes under the feet in summer... best road in the world...but it doesn't go ever on and on; that's why there's a sign in front of our neighborhood saying "DEAD END." That means that the road isn't going to go on forever--in fact, the end is very, very near.

Like this.

DEAD END.

...only I'm talking about a post, not a road.

The title of today's post goes out to Miss RAS and the famed Comp I paper. I think we learned a good deal about a certain author on Saturday, didn't we?

By way of things-that-are-going-on, I'm trying to get an early start on my final paper for history (I'm trying to avoid all the tiresome politics and economy which I was forced to think about for the last paper. This time I am writing on Religion. Booyah.) I'm also dissecting passages of Greek in preparation for the final exam... and trying to find time to get all the Calculus principles that have been rushing at me of late ingrained in my brain. A somewhat futile attempt to stay with the winter retreat planning is always in the mix...somewhere...

The weather is gorgeous. There's something so satisfying about crawling into bed when the house is just a wee bit chilly...and it's such fun to shiver, even when one is not very cold. Makes one feel desperate and happy at the same time. As the venerable Jane Austen said, "They are much to be pitied who have not been given a taste for cold weather early in life." ...Well, she might have said "nature" instead of "cold weather." But she would have said the latter had she thought of it. Surely she would not have disagreed.

Moving on from that strange topic...

Books. He Knew He Was Right, by Anthony Trollope (the name makes me crack up every time I catch sight of the book cover); Wives and Daughters by Elizabeth Gaskell; The Picture of Dorian Grey by Oscar Wilde. I raided the forth floor of the U library a few weeks ago. Progress has not been immense, but it's still such fun to have them around.

I also borrowed some of Wilde's fairytales, but they were moralistic and not quite what one expects to see from Wilde. Some of them had bits of humor thrown here and there--the intellectual who tries his hand at romance and in the end goes back to his dusty tomes made Ruth and I feel quite satisfied--but the general attitude of "O little children! be good!" overwhelmed most of the humorous phraseology that Wilde can't escape even in morals. Hans Christian Anderson would have found his own writings apathetic in the face of these. Elsie Dinsmore would seem a heathen. I could go on.

Well, I'm off to vanquish the dragon of aorism and storm the castle of elision.

I know, I could just say "study Greek." But that would be dull.

-Mark Twain

...Yes, so the presidential debates have gotten me feeling rather anti-anything-politics. I'm taking rather fiendish glee in the Wall-Street-dilemma--not because I wish the economy to fail necessarily, but because these people have spent years and years bowing down to their wretched economic success, and watching it fall is...it gives one a sense of rightness, a sort of "your gods have ears but cannot hear" feeling. Perhaps Elijah felt similarly (although undoubtedly with more strength) when the prophets of Baal could not summon fire on Mount Carmel. Perhaps the state of America's economy has fallen asleep...

In better news, the weather is glorious, and by glorious I mean the temperature is dropping with the stock market! I am more unashamedly and uncomplicatedly happy about the former. Coldness--whether it is cold in the clear-and-crisp sense or cold in the blustery-and-turbulent sense--is awesome. My employer and I have decided that if a certain candidate wins (three guesses and the first two don't count) we'll go to Mexico for the winter and Canada for the summer (PEI. Booya.). I'm thinking of just packing up and heading off to Canada for...forever. Find someplace with moderate-leaning-towards-low levels of population, beautiful scenery (I should like to have the ocean relatively nearby), and lots of cold. Seems to me an ideal situation. (The one flaw in either of these plans being the undoubtedly seedy nature of both the Mexican and Canadian government...unfortunately, one cannot lower the levels of natural human corruption by merely changing locations. Watch The Village if you've got any doubts about that. Or rather, tell your two-year-old "no.")

I've got a 13 page history paper to write, and even though 'tisn't due 'till the end of this month I need to take five pages of something to my discussion leader within this week. Obviously, I don't have five pages of much of anything, though I've got lots of ideas and notes, so I think I shall be off to try and formulate something solid. Whatever that means.

Cheers.

I have gradually been coming to feel that the door is no longer shut and bolted. Was it my own frantic need that slammed it in my face? The time when there is nothing at all in your soul except a cry for help may be just the time when God can’t give it: you are like the drowning man who can’t be helped because he clutches and grabs. Perhaps your own reiterated cries deafen you to the voice you hoped to hear...

When I lay these questions before God I get no answer. But a rather special sort of "No answer." It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, "Peace, child; you don't understand."

-C.S. Lewis, 'A Grief Observed'

Plato wasn't right, of course, but one can only half-blame the chap because it surely feels that way much of the time.

It's odd, missing someone keenly and yet not knowing them very well. It's as if the memory of them is very sharp in your mind, but you know it's not the full picture of them that you got because you weren't around them long enough to get that full picture (and in a way a lot of the hurt comes from thinking about people who did have a more complete picture)--and yet that doesn't diminish in any way the vastness of the gulf that now hangs between you. You're missing something or someone, maybe because the person was such a constant that there's this hole, or because the person never got the chance to be a constant, but whatever the case... they're not there, and they never will be (again?), not in the way that you can comprehend at the time, and so you sit there and look at what seems to be infinity apart from them--and in a way it is infinity, because they've entered eternity and you, still not quite understanding or maybe even quite believing in the existence of the eternal, are left behind.

Thank God Plato didn't get it right--and I don't mean that lightly; really thank Him, because there actually is something--or rather, Someone--that swallows Death and its sting up.

I just can't comprehend Him right now. It seems the nearer death is, the nearer Christ comes, and the less I comprehend anything.

Then again, He never promised comprehension.

(I suppose the threat of that was removed long ago when He started being eternal. Yes, I'm being oxymoronic. Intentionally.)

I can't seem to end this satisfactorily, but I can't make myself delete it either. I have no nice-and-tidy summing up, no clever last line designed to make you chuckle throughout the day. My words seem unresolved and unnatural and insufficient.

It strikes me, then, that this post is a lot like death.

(And how much do I wish I had some Lewis with me, to absorb all my pathetic, philosophical eschewing.)

(Speaking of bated breath (below): the other day I was looking at amusing word-ish things just for the fun of it, and came across an article in which someone was correcting someone else's saying "baited breath" in favor of "bated breath," but then again remarking on how much more amusing the following is--if you consider the proper spelling "bated." Yes, this is an instance where my punstership comes to full front. The poem is called The Cruel Clever Cat, and it escapes my mind as to the author's particular name. Thomas, or something.)

Sally, having swallowed cheese,
Directs down holes the scented breeze,
Enticing thus with baited breath
Nice mice to an untimely death.

Actual usage of term "bated breath" found in post below, which was published roughly 30 seconds ago, but it didn't seem to work well with the randomness of this thing. Incongruous randomships, ya might say.

Today I declared my major. It was an event that struck me as being singularly anticlimactic. I sat down at my advisor's desk, and he told me kindly that I was in the wrong place but I could make it the right place shortly so I could stay and talk to him about these things anyway (I was very relieved. I really didn't want to visit the mean people who talk to undeclared undergraduates). Ah--that brings us to the point. See, freshmen--science majors, at least--can't declare a major until they have at least one semester's worth of credits. I gave my major in several of the silly forms they give you, but the computer didn't pick up on it and I didn't realize this was going on, so of course I went to the wrong advisor, but he was very reasonable and suggested that we talk first and then declare my major later.

I went into spasms of excitement. Okay, not spasms--it wasn't quite exciting-sounding enough for that--but still. It seemed like a momentous occasion enough, especially since they used such a wonderfully final and tremendous verb as declare.

We finished talking about next semester and bad chemistry professors (and I actually dropped that class...which I could talk on and on about why I did and how weird and relieved it's making me feel and how the only thing that keeps me from thinking I'm a lazy quitter is the fact that I wouldn't have done it if my dad hadn't said emphatically that I should...but I don't really want to talk about it much) and then he wrote all the stuff down and said he would tell me how to declare my major.

Bated breath...

I anticipated something along the lines of standing on the pinnacle of the Union or the Library or at least in front of the fountain and declaring on a loudspeaker, "BIOLOGICAL SCIENCES WITH A PRE-MED OPTIONS!"

Alas. Such high-set glories were not to be mine.

"You basically go up to the desk out there and say, 'Hi, I'd like to declare my major.'

Oh. So...basically I'm declaring something for only one person to hear?

Breath de-bating...

• Write a chemistry paper
• Finish Greek homework
• Work through Calculus problems
• Be thankful for a history exam gone well
• Set up an eye exam so I can replace my non-fitting glasses
  
• Glory in the goodness and greatness of my God instead of worrying away my life
  

I skipped Greek class today because I was freaked out over the history exam which would take place ten minutes after Greek class (did I not skip it), I was hungry, and my ear was being weird. Turned out Mr. E didn't hold class after all, so I was not hailed as a genius and I still have a chance to do those exercises in class.

Then, I went to chem class--very tired and sure I was going to snooze through it after my four hours of sleep last night--and sat around for fifteen minutes, at which point it became apparent that the substitute teacher had forgotten about the class and we were off scot-free. I came home, cleaned my room, watched a movie, put away some laundry that had been sitting around for forever and a day, took care of a few work-related things, and then sat back and wrote a to-do list. I couldn't think of anything else to blog about, so I posted it as an entry because there's nothing better to say...

Now I am sitting and being quiet, enjoying this nearly-exhausted state which I seem to be in perpetually but rarely have time to slow down and actually feel. It's rather nice knowing you shall sleep well tonight.

God bless...

Tacking this onto the end, here's a joke that was told during a Robotics brainstorming meeting.

A farmer and his hands were having trouble telling two cows apart. In an attempt to prevent this, they tagged them with different numbers. The method worked, and when one of their tags tore off it didn't matter much--they could still tell them apart. Then the other cow's tag tore off, and that idea didn't work anymore. They lopped off one of their tails to try and tell them apart, but the other one's tail got caught in a fence shortly thereafter and the problem resurfaced. Finally, the farmer had a bright idea: he could measure the cows and tell them apart by the size difference! With great satisfaction, that night the farmer announced to his hands: "Good news, boys--it worked! The red one's three inches taller than the white one!"

Unfortunately, while Frank Churchill could not be dictated to by a watch, I can. It is ten 'till eleven; I am resolved to type for ten more minutes and then hit 'Publish' and work on my Greek for seventeen minutes after that. I shall absorb three minutes walking to the library, stapling my Chemistry homework, and then arrive at Greek a few minutes past 11:20 am. I shall sit around for seven or eight minutes and revel in all the intellectual goofiness that naturally occurs in a Greek classroom before having to commit blackboard with my dubious exercises that all seem to involve armies and the sea and letters and smell strongly of grade school Latin (didn't I come to college...? Oh, yeah. When you start a subject it's the same no matter what. Silly me.)

The infamous Calculus exam went rather well. I was surprised by the relative simplicity of the problems involved, and thankfully was able to remember fairly accurately the way he wants us to present the problems. Now I am praying that this was not all a matter of self-deception. I am always overcome throughout the thirty minutes or so following any mathematics exam that I have been engaged for the past several weeks in playing a miserable joke on myself, one that involves convincing myself (mistakenly) that I can do the work and understand the concepts when I really can't. It passes once the next concern comes along, of course, and is nothing terribly deep--but still. It hasn't quite gone yet.

RAS just called. She's going to be here in a few minutes, so I shall probably get off a little before eleven after all... I really do need to finish that Greek assignment anyway, and it's by sheer "nice" Providence that I finished my Chemistry assignment before Calculus today.

I say "nice" Providence because I don't want to say "luck" and I don't want to say "good" Providence because that implies that I am interpreting the inherent nature of what God does, which I--being mortal, fallible, and dreadfully stupid--cannot do. So I say "nice" Providence because that is an on-the-surface, shallow term that conveys just how I perceive it. I do hope it doesn't strike anyone as heretical.

10:58 am. I shall leave you two--no, now it's one--minute early.

Adieu.

-Real Gone, Sheryl Crow

(Depressing, disgusting, and decidedly dumb post--that being the one from June SomethingthOrOther--is now the depressing, disgusting, decidedly dumb, and definitely deleted post. All applaud alliteration! ...'All applaud' as in 'all hail'...only...alliteratively.)_

Here I am, reveling in the insanity that is my life. No, that's not redundant with the blog title: while my personal insanity may come naturally, that does not necessarily mean that my life is insane--which it is--right now.

So I'm looking at what is potentially a very good year. I say "potentially" because I have the potential to make the most of a whole lot or to mess that "whole lot" up majorly. I've got some great classes with great people, only one teacher who I approach with a total state of dubiousness, and I have three of the best jobs in the entire world. I get to teach dance to a class of adults, who are the most fun students a person can ever ask for... that's honestly the high point of my week, perhaps only second to Sabbath and the college group meetings. Then there are lesser-high points (not low; just less high): Greek class is just slightly below dance, and that happens thrice a week. Going to the gym is always a high point. I always am much more ready to get into things after the gym.

I don't know if there are any low points. There are difficult points--mounds of Calculus homework; the exam (Calculus), quiz (Greek), and a homework assignment (Chemistry) due on Monday being just one example...not to mention the history assignment due tomorrow, the Greek exercises with which I must commit blackboard tomorrow, and a presentation I have for Tuesday... Oh, yeah, and the four-and-a-half hour chunk that I take out of my Fridays for dance doesn't help much. :P

I am thinking I will have to teach myself to study at night. I'm not very good at that; I get more done going to bed early and waking up in the wee hours of the morning, but I don't know if that will work out well with my job. I feel bad about waking up at 4 and turning on lights and possibly waking up my employer, whereas at home it was just my sisters and they could deal with it because they got too much sleep anyways (okay, so I'm not always that hard-hearted. At work, though, the rooms are pretty open, so if you turn on a light anywhere it affects just about anywhere else...) So my solution is to figure out how to study late into the night and deprive myself of sleep that way without consuming copious amounts of caffeine. (I wonder if that isn't impossible. We shall find out.)

Whoever you are, you must somehow watch the speech that Sarah Palin (As in, McCain-Palin '08) gave last night at the RNC. She's brilliant. I actually want McCain to win now. I mean, I always did, but mostly because I really don't want Obama to win. But I watch Ms. Palin and my feminist/Conservative side wants to pur with catlike contentment...and I want her in the White House as much or more as I didn't want Hillary there. Speaking of Hillary, I feel myself obliged to applaud her stellar performance and all her valiant and effective efforts towards paving the way for Alaska's Governor. I think the Dem's trump card (Obama being black) might have just been canceled out with the power of woman. Boo yah. The media won't see it that way, but whatev. Brilliant move on McCain's part in selecting a brilliant person. Enough of the politics. It was an awesome speech.

I shouldst go. I have work to do--calls to make, problems to scratch my head over, history terms to analyse, nouns to decline, chemistry to worry over... good stuff like that.

School's started.

Oh yeah.

I'll be keeping you posted.

(...hums innocently...)

I watched the presidential candidates' speeches last night, so the quote is (of course) in honor of that. It was rather ... discouraging. Obama is smooth. Hillary won't get out of the picture. McCain doesn't have a good enough campaign-strategy, and he seriously needs to learn public speaking skills.

I won't go all political on here, though, because that would be tedious.

I'm currently very tired and feeling a wee bit woozy. I haven't had a real meal today since breakfast, and the cup of coffee and handful of gummy worms (not eaten at the same time, thank you!) are not cutting it. Today just sort of went out of control. I took and passed my driving exam this morning (I didn't do it last weekend; we had to have the brakes and windshield fixed) and ever since then have been running about. I took D shoe shopping, which was quite...interesting. She's very indecisive but we made it through alright and then went to Wal-Mart...and I'm realizing how it's possible to spend all day running around doing things and never really get anything done. Driving takes too long.

For now, I'm just glad I passed the test and that there wasn't a build-up of phone calls at work while I was unexpectedly gone... I'm going to eat something substantial and do something useful. Maybe fold laundry.

Toodle-oo.

-I.S.

There's another quote for you to guess...I don't have time to say much else, though I guess I'll be able to babble about my graduation tomorrow or sometime in the future. For the moment, I'm hunting down random objects that allegedly represent my past. I'm thinking of wearing my old, hyper-dorky glasses. Whaddya think?

...yeah, I thought not too. But I'm probably putting them on the silly table, along with Anna Banana and a host of other things. I have an old map of the Shire to represent my devotion to Lord of the Rings, and a stethoscope/scrub top/name badge for that aspect of things... some school-related stuff, gloves and a picture for my Jane Austen plays, a Cowboys shirt because that's my college, and...other junk, mostly. I can't think of everything that's in there.

In my forage for Objects Representing My Past (fondly referred to as ORMP, which, when pronounced phonetically, is rather the sound I made as I hefted all the heavy Rubbermaid memory-tubs around and dug through them) I came across several "letters to myself," one for when I was sixteen (obviously that one was delayed in the post) and one for my seventeen-year-old persona. I opened them both. The 16-year-old was written when I was 14, and it was very strange. Very, very strange. The one to myself now (17) was not much better, although my sense of humor was more recognizable. I had written that one about a year ago. It contained sarcastic gems such as:

Please tell me you don't have a boyfriend. If you do, I doubt he's the love of your life, and you'd better dump him soon.

Rest easy, 16. Some things haven't changed.

There were some other similarities to my present self, such as my regular habit of starting with hopeless nostalgia/sentiment and then dashing it to the ground:

Sixteen isn't anything I expected she'd be. I hope you dodge my expectations too.

It was almost disturbingly personal in parts--like opening some forgotten person's mail written to some other person who doesn't exist....the correspondence of a dead person to a fictional one. Very odd. It made my dramatic/writer side shiver with delight, and I'm sure I'll be writing about something like that sometime... But first I think I'm going to write another "letter to the future": because I actually did manage to remind myself of some important things (the dumping of nonexistent boyfriends being one example), and it made for a really, really good laugh--neither being things I expected in my search for ORMPs.

I also found a magnificently vast collection of LotR movie frame shots, nicely laminated and all. That made me chuckle a bit, and Evelyn at least should remember/understand that...

Another quote from our mystery quoter, and I'll have to go:

"If you board the wrong train, it is no use running along the corridor in the other direction."

And finally, a final declaration:

I loathe eye makeup.

Sincerely,
Inky

Pogo is pretty awesome stuff. We have an old comic book of my dad's, and it's quite amusing. I've sat on the couch giggling over it for long periods of time. That's one of his more thoughtful moments up there.

Not much to report here; still don't feel a terrific post in the works. I spent five hours at a dance all-school recital dress rehearsal...it was only supposed to take three hours... so I'm very tired. And we're going and doing a dance for the half-time act at a pageant tonight, so it's not over. Blaahh. However, it is at the Seretean Center, which is pretty cool. Never danced there before, but I know the stage(s) are rather nice, so I'm looking forward to it anyway. And it is only one number, so it shouldn't be exhausting or anything.

Another nice thing is the fact that next Saturday I'm going to be performing several dances I've never performed on stage but always wanted to, and I'm really looking forward to it. Yaay. Any detail beyond that would be just plain tedious, so let's just leave it at "I'm really excited." That's better.

I worked again last night. I love my job. It's just...really fun and relaxing and there's nothing stressful or difficult about it. Sleeping is still a little hard, but I expect I'll get used to the different bed and surroundings and then it will be better.

I'm ready for a nap. So I shall be, as Walt Kelly (writer of Pogo) put it:

“In like a dimwit, out like a light.”

G'd afternoon!

-Ink

I log on.

I click on "new post."

I know I am here to write a "new post" by virtue of the fact that the button I just clicked said "New Post."

So I type a few sentences that state the obvious and really have no meaning or significant purpose.

And then... My brain is too clogged to think of anything else...I am going to go take a walk outside or something. Maybe jump on the trampoline. I've been meaning to write a good post for a day or two and every time I log on, there's just...nothing. There's always the thought that I have work tonight (Yaaay!) and tomorrow is an All-School (read: all day) dance practice and then a performance at a pageant in the evening, but expounding any further on that would be extremely dull. Kablah. So I leave you with a bit of Andy Griffith:

Barney: I'm surprised at you, Andy. They want people who have had musical training. Why, suppose they ask Rafe to do something he don't know? Rafe, if they asked you to sing a cappella, could you do it?
Rafe: No.
Andy: Hey, Barn, what if they was to ask you if you could sing a cappella. What would you do?
Barney: Why, I'd do it! [snapping fingers in rhythm] "A cappella, a cappella"... Well, I don't remember all the words.

From Bondage of the Will: At this point, Luther is criticizing the ineffectiveness of Erasmus' arguments and the way he frequently contradicts himself. Here he cites the source of his weak arguments and faulty reasoning: Erasmus simply doesn't care about the topic.

"A man who does not treat this question seriously and has no interest in the issue, whose mind is not on it and who finds it a boring and a chilling and a distasteful business, cannot help uttering absurdities and follies and contradictions all along the line; he argues his case like a man drunk or asleep, blurting out between snores 'Yes!' 'No!' as different voices sound upon his ears!

"This is why rhetoricians require passion in one who pleads a case. Much more does theology require passion, to make a man vigorous, and keen, and earnest, and prudent, and energetic."

[Luther, Bondage of the Will, Ch. IV: "Review of Erasmus' Arguments for Free Will"]

We watched The Brady Bunch tonight, and my favorite quote was not the title, but the following snatchet of dialogue:

(The parents have just invited all the kids along on their honeymoon...)

Bobby: What do you take on a honeymoon, anyway?
Greg: A girl, dummy!

~*~

That will be all for now. I am very tired, my feet are sore (four hours of dance. X_X) and I have the SAT at 7:45 a.m. in the City tomorrow. This week was finals week, and so I don't really feel very...prepared...if you know what I mean. Blah. Prayer always helps. =)

I shall write about last night's glorious picnic tomorrow, if I am not completely wiped out.

Do you know why I dislike in-class essays? It has nothing to do with the subject, the teacher, or the fact that blue books are wide ruled and prefer college ruled. See, when I write an essay or a paper, I generally get halfway through and then think of a better way of doing things. The better way is typically completely different from the original way. Even on in-class essay when the teacher gives us the topic beforehand and allows us to prepare an outline, I always think of a better idea when I'm three-quarters of the way through. At that point, it's too late. I don't think my #2 pencils have enough eraser to undo all that, and there's generally less than half of the time left.

So yesterday I just plugged my mental ears and ignored the little voice berating me, saying "there's a better way to do this!" I just stuck to my original outline. My Finals are gone, classes are done, and I'm really loving being at home. Today I'm going to send a bunch of faxes for work, go to the library for the National Day of Prayer event, and then do some stuff with JD & Co. for the Captain Thunderbolt film.

I was taking my JA final with the Latin 2 people, and they were talking about all of it and it just brought back memories... Their exam was exactly like the ones I had to take in Latin 3. I miss Latin. So I went and found the Latin translations of the quotes from the last post. It helps with all the nostalgia. =)

Both the quotes are from Virgil. The title quote is from Eclogues:

Cantantes licet usque (minus via laedit) eamus.

and the one at the end is from Aeneid:

Facilis descensus Averni:
noctes atque dies patet atri ianua Ditis;
sed revocare gradium superasque evadere ad auras.
hoc opus, hic labor est.

Last night was improv night with the college/high school kids. It really was a blast; Jonathan did a good job finding lots of different games, and everyone had a good time. It was such mayhem that I don't think I could produce an accurate account of it, although I'm sure if Miss Ev were there she would have gotten everything down... some of us have it, some of us don't. Ah well. I think someone got pictures, so I'll see if I can get them out.

We've been watching Andy Griffith recently...

Barney: The last big buy was my mom and dad's anniversary present.
Andy: What'd ya get 'em?
Barney: A septic tank.
Andy: For their anniversary?
Barney: They're awful hard to buy for. Besides, it was something they could use. They were really thrilled. It had two tons of concrete in it. All steel reinforced.
Andy: You're a fine son, Barn.
Barney: I try.

I need to go send those faxes now, but first things first:

WHITE RABBIT!!!

That's a quote from Virgil for your title--let's hear it for the classics! ...And now I sound like a TV announcer.

Note: I think I'm tired. I typed "here" instead of "hear" above, and I didn't notice it until I was previewing the post. Shockifications. /Note

So I've got 2/3 of my finals behind me, and I think I've done well enough to get the grade that I want in the classes. Biology and Math are behind me, for better or for worse, and so now I'm just focusing on the Austen final which takes place tomorrow. I studied collectively over dead week as much as I could and now I'm just studying as they come. I studied exclusively for math (as much time as there was, with an 8 am Monday exam) and then I moved on to biology exclusively and so finally I'm finishing my plans for the in-class essay on Emma. I am very happy to be rid of math and biology. They were great, the teachers were wonderful, it wasn't terribly stressful while I was doing it, but now that the weight's gone it's a lot more freeing than I thought it would be.

I did my trial run for the job, and it was really, really good. I thought I was supposed to be "proving" that I could do the job, but I guess the interview several weeks back was enough--she already considers me "employed" by her, which is really great. I'm just very excited about how well that opportunity is turning out. We wound up staying up really late because she had an unexpected friend visiting (who is a genius who seems to do everything, and they went to Russia together back in '75 and met Elizabeth Taylor...it's a pretty cool story; ask me about it sometime and I'll tell you) and didn't get my work done until almost midnight. She was really sweet and apologetic and kept saying "promise me you won't quit!" (I have absolutely no intention of even thinking about that...) It's just amazing how that's working out and I'm so thankful.

I also manipulated my fall schedule slightly so that I have back-to-back classes on MWF from 9:30am to 2:30pm (I think I originally had a two hour break in the middle somewhere) which means that hanging out time after Calculus on those days won't be much, MadSci. But on Tuesday I'll have plenty of time; Calc's my only Tuesday class. All I've got on Thursday is a Chem lab. I like having heavy class days and then free(ish) days for homework and other stuff. So far this is working out that way.

Brother C and Sister C had their glasses "upgraded" the other day. This is especially good news for Brother C. Poor kid...every time his upper body turned slightly face-down towards the ground, the rotten old pair (which was too small, too dirty, and quite bent out of shape) would drop right off his nose. I don't even know if they reached his ears. They actually went to get the glasses ordered a long time ago because he needed them and they took forever to come in, which was weird--they're normally so prompt. But anyway, he finally got his new pair of specs, and while on the surface they're not that drastic a change, those of us who have had to watch those things drop off again and again can sure tell the difference. However, I cannot say that the improvement in the quality of the glasses is helping him to remember to wear them any more. The cry of "Hey! You! Where are your glasses?!" followed by his responding sheepish shrug is still typical. We'll see if that doesn't change...

A slightly more drastic change in the scenery here is the appearance of the same ocular device on the face of Brother G. He is now a member of the nerd class of our family, which is rapidly outgrowing the non-nerd class (!!). The glasses do make Brother G look rather dapper and intellectual--that is, when he keeps the roguish grin off his face. Hmm. I really should start a family picture blog; I hate putting stuff up on here because it's rather too personal, but if it was a safe, secret link which could only be divulged among close acquaintances...we'll see.

In other news, I'm officially Self-Volunteered Director of the drama department for this year's VBS, which should be interesting. I've already got five or six of the Jr High girls hanging off of me begging to be a part of it... so it's upping my popularity over here! That's always a perk. ^_^

...I can't wait for tomorrow!!!

-Inky

It is easy to go down into Hell; night and day, the gates of dark Death stand wide; but to climb back again, to retrace one's steps to the upper air - there's the rub, the task.

Well, since I am still in the throes of pre-finals, and since someone complained about the gruesome nature of the last post's Doctor quote, I thought I'd throw out some non-gruesome (but very funny) quotes from the show when Tom Baker was the Doc. These are from The Revenge of the Cybermen. Most of them are Harry and Sarah, who I think a pretty hilarious combination of companions. I wish they'd do something similar with the current season.

Sarah and Harry are transported to a strange planet without the Doctor. Harry stops to speculate what he could do with a large chunk of gold he has found, and as they linger they are captured by the rather cheesily strange inhabitants:

Sarah: The Doctor will be worrying about us.
Harry: I'M worrying about us!

The planet whose inhabitants have captured them is made of gold. They are chained up and left to sit, awaiting their death sentence:

Harry: Sarah, these chains are solid gold!
Sarah: Harry, will you just shut up about your rotten gold?!
Harry: Maybe four karat by the looks of it...
Sarah: It's because of the gold we're in this mess!
Harry: I was just thinking...
Sarah: Well, don't!

They use a rock to bend the gold and try to get out of the chains...

Harry: The gold! It's flattening!
Sarah: So's my ankle!

Of course they eventually get the chains off, but are stopped by weird creatures with guns:

Harry: This looks like the end, Sarah.
Sarah: That's one thing about you, Harry: you never miss the obvious.

And finally, the Doctor shares his policy on ideas:

Doctor: I think my idea's better.
Crewman: What's your idea?
Doctor: I don't know yet. That's the problem with ideas. They only come a bit at a time.

I've been thinking a lot about time lately. I had Freshman Orientation on Monday, and so I was thinking about the next semester, and how I'd like to spend my time then. The future is usually what comes to mind when one thinks about time, but then one can't make decisions about the future unless one knows what one thinks of the present, and so one winds up thinking a lot about how one is spending one's time at the moment too...

So, anyway, Freshman Orientation: sitting around in a large room full of high school students, being told how great we are, trying not to be bored with having information thrown at me that I've already either heard before or figured out on my own, contemplating starting the Rock Kickers United Society with Sam, spending an hour and a half talking about what classes to enroll in only to find out that the ones I'm already enrolled in are just fine and I didn't have to really be there (and therefore miss biology on top of Jane Austen... and I wasn't expecting to miss both; they told me I wasn't going to have to miss biology, but then I found out I was, but I figured it would be worth it if it would get my enrollment straightened out, and then when the guy was supposed to sign the paper he barely even looked at my class list... reminds me of the adviser I saw last Christmas who just sort of waved me by and didn't even leave any records...) anyway, enough of the inattentions of advisers.

The long and short of it is, I'm signed up for all the classes I swore throughout high school that I'd never take in college because they're too hard, I hate the subject material, etc.--well, lo and behold, I'm actually looking forward to these. My classes for this fall are (in order of their occurence):

Calculus I
Elementary Statistics
Greek I
Chemistry I
Overview of American History

17 whopping hours. Whoop. (If I CLEP out of American History, it could go down to 14...probably not, though. I'd probably just add the Democracy In America class in its place.) They all happen on MWF, so those days are going to be pretty nasty. I only have a Calculus class on Tuesday and Chemistry lab on Thursday, so actually I'm going to have a pretty decent schedule, I think. I like having class-days and homework days, rather than class-and-homework-thrown-together-and-mushed-around days. Those are painful.

Gotta go... paper to write, pre-lab to finish. It's the last paper and the last pre-lab; I just turned in the last math assignment. I'm slightly stressed about finals--they're just so close!--but I'm also looking forward to being done.

"Tracked you down with this. This is my timey-wimey detector. Goes ding when there's stuff. Also, it can boil an egg at 30 paces. Whether you want it to or not, actually, so I've learned to stay away from hens. It's not pretty when they blow."

Guess who! ...literally, guess "Who"--that is, if you guessed Who with regards to the title, you would have been correct.

Not much in the way of "new" things going on here. I've been falling behind in a thousand things, trying to catch up in others, practicing my mad Freshman Comp skills, memorizing, evangelizing, singing, biologyizing, not writing a paper, trying to fill out forms, eating awesome Thai food, sitting by Theta Pond...

13/14 of my biology lab assignments are done. Over. Gone. Caput. If I were the sort to use phraseology like 'w00t,' I'd throw that in right about now. I am quite happy at the thought that next Thursday I shall have biology lab ne'er more. It was fun, but I'll be glad when it's gone. Also, 13/14 of my math assignments have gone in, and I'll turn in 3/4 writing assignments for Jane Austen next Friday. The end is near, my friends. =)

Truthfully, I don't know what I shall do with myself when school is over. My schedule will be so empty...devoid of any requirements or demands. Time shall not be an issue.

And if you believe that, I've got some ocean front property in Arizona to sell you--and I'll even throw in the Brooklyn Bridge for free.

(Paraphrasing a country song there...)

No, seriously, I shall look forward to being able to get all the little nuisances out of my way--wrapping up driving, high school, finding a day job, writing out plots that have been nagging me all semester, more tests--which I couldn't really focus on with school.

[abruptness]

I'm tired. I need to review some stuff before tomorrow. I'm going to get off now.

[/abruptness]

I realized I hadn't responded to several comments of Shadow's; I'm not really sure how to answer questions. I mean, do I comment on my own post? ...how do I know they'll see my answers, then? Do I write a response post? That seems rather pointless and boring... or do I go and leave a comment on your blog which has nothing to do with you and everything to do with moi? ...eh. I still do not know. I'll just tack a response-note on here.

1. My second job this summer will be staying nights with an elderly woman & assisting her as needed. It's a very simple, fun job and I'm really looking forward to it. It also allows me to go look for a part-time day job without burdening me, since I'm sleeping most of the time I'm "on the job" here.

2. I actually really like math exams too. They're so much simpler than homework assignments, because they're smaller in size and more focused. You can just waste all your effort away on these problems and you know exactly which ones will be graded (all of them) and exactly where your strengths and weaknesses are (you typically spend homework assignments figuring this out). Plus, there's just something fun about covering that page with lines and lines of numbers and computations and then having the little box at the bottom with the answer. And I deeply appreciate the way my math teacher believes multiple choice math questions are fundamentally evil. They are. (Algebra is better than trigonometry; I prefer solving for X to messing around with triangles...although solving for angles and sides is pretty cool too. I guess I'd just rather be solving for something...there's such great satisfaction in overcoming the challenge, as you indicated.)

Ehh. Response "note" was practically longer than post. Apologies and condolences to your deceased-from-boredom brains.

-Inkius

MS4, you are correct: the last post's title was by the venerable Ms. Austen.

I shall now give you lots of Robin Hood awesomeness: (some from second season, but shouldn't spoil anything really...) ...mostly because I can't think of anything better at the moment. A much more (or perhaps less) interesting post about real life is on its way shortly...or semi-shortly...or whatever.

~*~

A brilliantly sarcastic Sheriff:

"Yes, it's me. Do you really think I'd smile and let you take Sussex? A clue: no."

Sheriff: Marian sent a message.
Guy: What message?
Sheriff: Oh, um... "I'm not coming back, get over it, and for goodness' sake change your clothes once in a while."

"I'm not paying you now--now that the stiff has stepped off the stretcher."

~*~

From an episode where certain members of the gang are having superstitious fears (which of course turn out to be ridiculous), and some of them are slightly shaken while others remain skeptical...:

Allan: And another thing! My cousin definitely saw a man turn into a frog. He did! Just outside of Dorchester.
Will: I thought you said he was always drunk, your cousin.
Allan: Well, he is. But still...

~*~

And finally, general silliness.

Much: What do girls eat?
Djaq: Special girls' food.

Djaq: I have to be honest. And if I am being honest, I have to say that I do not love all of you in the same way.
Much: It's me isn't it? You love everyone but you don't love me. Brilliant.

Robin: The torches are on, but there is nobody home.
Allan: ...Kind of like Much!
Much: Very funny.

~*~

I have a math exam and a pre-lab to turn in tomorrow; this is all the post for tonight.

Love y'all,
Inky

--> "Never forget the outlaws!" <--

Guess who the quote-of-the-post comes from today? (Be it noted here that if you google it to find out, like dirty cheating scum, you will be on the receiving end of fifty lashes from a wet noodle. Internally. By your own consciences. Heed my warning.)

So I heard that I got the job today, and I'll probably be going in for a practice run a week from this weekend... I may have to cancel a dance thing (grumble...but I probably should anyway; it's dead week...I reeeeally don't want to, though...) anyway, that's definitely a praise. Now I just have to whip up an application and find meself a day job. I know it sounds like a whole lot of work this summer, but most of it takes place at night, and I think I'm going to have a ton of free time, which is great because I've had barely any this semester. I am at least hoping to do stuff with the Enid VBS and goof off at my house. And CLEP. Oh yes, we shall be doing CLEP. Speaking of CLEP, I've got the Freshman Comp test this Friday. >_< 90 problems in 90 minutes. Eeeyuuurrrsshhh. I shall be reading Strunk & White and doing other intolerably dull exercises until then. But it shall all be worth it--a semester or two of Freshman Comp-free class schedules. =)

Onwards...

I'm very glad to be done with the last Saturday. ACT in the morning and emceeing at/performing in a dance gig at Couch Park in the afternoon...it was fun, but I don't want to do it again. I think I did better this time 'round on the test, too; I was definitely less stressed with Science Reasoning. It all made sense and I wasn't so scrambled for time, although I think they should at least give us another five minutes on that section... and maybe thirty more seconds on the math section would have helped. I had to leave a problem blank because I figured it out right before she called time and didn't get the chance to fill in the bubble. I am very mad.

Anyway, I need to go make dinner and then study biology and catch up on some work. Thankfully my math's all done...it's due tomorrow, and the one question I didn't have done this morning she went over in class today...took the entire class period, so I'm glad I didn't have to work it on my own. =)

I'll be writing some of you emails soon...should probably call others of you... and if that wasn't a vague statement I don't know what is.

-Inky

L.A.'s changed a lot over the years
Since those brave gold rush pioneers
Came in their creaky covered wagons
Far as they could go, end of the line
Their dreams were yours, their dreams were mine
But in those dreams were hidden dragons.

Sunset Boulevard, frenzied boulevard
Swamped with every kind of false emotion.
Sunset Boulevard, brutal boulevard
Just like you, we'll wind up in the ocean.

She was sinking fast, I threw a rope
Now I have suits and she has hope.
It seemed an elegant solution.
One day this must end, it isn't real
Still I'll enjoy a hearty meal
Before tomorrow's execution.

Sunset Boulevard, ruthless boulevard
Destination for the stony-hearted
Sunset Boulevard, lethal boulevard
Everyone's forgotten how they started
Here on Sunset Boulevard...!

--excerpt of title song from the musical "Sunset Boulevard." There's something about the word imagery and the depressing clarity with which truth is presented that makes me love this part of the song (also because it's the part that doesn't contain anything terribly vulgar...)

My last post received some rather mixed results and I wasn't sure whether people got it or not, so I wanted to make sure everybody gets it and nobody is laboring under delusions of...well, delusional things. So, if you took me seriously, please look at the date of the last post and rest assured that I am most certainly not going to go into engineering of any size, form, or variety--nor would I decide to do so at the draw of a hat--I mean, drop of a hat. And if everyone did get it, please reassure me of the fact that I am very, very dense and let it rest at that.

Speaking of denseness, here's my blonde moment of the day: adding 2 grams of agarite to our gel mixture instead of .2 grams. So the denseness refers to two things: my head and the contents therein, and the resulting lead-like gel. I have never done that before and it was very mortifying indeed. But I blame it on the book. If it had said "0.2," as is proper, I would never have misread it. It just had to say ".2," and that was misleading. Anyone can overlook a period.

(Yeah, yeah, you just keep telling yourself that...if it makes you feel better...)

Le title probably seems rather strange. It's a quote from a parody I found a while back of Torchwood, a BBC show that's meant to accompany Doctor Who but is really rather worthless (or so I've heard). After the first five to eight seconds, when the Jack-Harkness-look-alike had done his little swagger walk and convinced the constable to let him into the crime scene by virtue of their being Torchwood ("the most famous secret agency!") and his own shiny teeth, it all became rather dubious in its humor and we stopped watching it. But seeing what I have of Capt. Jack from Doctor Who, and being none too impressed with the depth or quality of his character, I found that part rather funny.

And so, rather than impressing you all with the depth of my current state of being stressed out, I will honor you with some Doctor Who quotes--some of Jack's better moments. =)

A funny situation from Empty Child/Doctor Dances: Doctor Who is forced to admit to Capt. Jack (not the pirate) that his "sonic device" is a sonic screwdriver, which sounds much less macho than Jack's sonic blaster.

Jack: Who has a sonic screwdriver?!
The Doctor: I do!
Jack: ...Who looks at a screwdriver and thinks, 'Ooo, this could be a little more sonic!'?
The Doctor: What, you've never been bored? Never had a long night?... Never had a lot of cabinets to put up?

...from the same episode, after a banana has appeared through a long and laborious sequence of events and conversations the explanation of which will only serve to bore you...

The Doctor: Go! Go now! Don't drop the banana!
Jack: Why not?!
The Doctor: Good source of potassium.

...later, as they're locked in a room with no escape from evil dudes outside the door...

The Doctor: Assets!
Jack: Our assets? Well, I've got a banana, and in a pinch you could put up some shelves...

...so maybe they don't make sense. But I assure you, in their proper context, they're quite funny. Perhaps I should find something besides the good ol' Doc to quote. Any ideas?

Cheerio!
-Inky

I’ve had some time to think about this whole career/major thing recently, especially over spring break. It’s really quite a complicated business—one that often has me clutching my head and gasping for breath like a fish. But honestly—it’s not an easy business. Talking to people helps sometimes, but it mostly just confuses me more. So I think I’ve finally figured it out.

Here’s what I did:

I made a slip of paper for each career choice anyone has ever suggested to me. If more than one person has suggested or recommended a particular career, I put in that number of slips with that career. I figure that the first one I pull out of the hat will be a divine ordinance and therefore right. So I’ve got all my options in Ben’s old baseball cap—which he must have left home when he went to the C’s this morning— and I stuck in my hand and pulled out …

Engineering.

Okay, so I wasn’t willing to go through on my plan at first. Obviously this was some mistake or irony of providence—a sign, maybe, that this is not a good way to choose a major. But then I started thinking about it, and engineering really makes sense. I’ve always wanted a stable job, and a woman engineer has a really good chance for being hired quickly with good pay. I’ve found out recently I’ve got a good head for problems and math and such and I’m not averse to this kind of stuff. There are other reasons. I talked to my parents, and they agreed that it was a drastic change but probably for the best. I’ve looked at the options, and I’m thinking combustion engineering, but I haven’t really made up my mind about all that. This all just makes so much more sense than any of my previous plans! I’m super excited about it. What do y’all think?

But here's the coolest news: I saw a new, exclusive 4th Season Doctor Who preview/interview, and they said that they're giving the Daleks a new, better war cry:

"White Rabbit! WHITE RABBIT!"

-Inky

Ronald Reagan said that. And no, this isn't going to be a political post ranting against the evils of abortion. I just grabbed hold of that quote at some point last week and put it on a notepad which has been sitting on my computer for a while, and I decided to use it. It makes one think appropriately, I believe.

Anyway, things are moving at a whirlwind pace. I had a trig exam this morning, and it was quite like the last one--that is, the last one was an Algebra exam, so the content was nothing like. But the nights before both exams were both very similar: moaning and worrying and generally convincing myself that there's no way I understand these concepts nor am I able to apply them. When I got there and saw the eight relatively simple problems (one of those being a bonus), I felt as though my life has been written one anticlimax after another. She didn't even make us actually sketch a graph of sine or cosine; we just identified some major components in graphing. Inverse trig identities were not to be found.

Truly, I think studying only serves to bother up one's mind. I do not mean that studying itself is worthless, but rather that one has to know how to study and one rarely ever does.

The rest of my life is ridden with exams and dance performances with an occasional event outside of school or dance thrown in here or there. My biology exam is next Monday, a day after the youth retreat. I have the ACT on the morning of April 12 and a dance performance which I have to run that same afternoon. The week right before finals, I have two extra dance practices and a large, laborious performance--the Saturday after Finals I am taking the SAT. I have Orientation somewhere in there. On the desk next to me, there's a Psychology textbook which I got for a dollar on ABEbooks. I'm going to study that and CLEP out of the miserable subject. The Sociology text is on its way and I'm going for Freshman Comp I & II as well. I do not know how many hours I'll be allowed to test out of, but I may be studying some PolySci and American History too. And in a month or so, people tell me I'll be graduating high school...

I'm going to an informal interview later this evening for a summer job and hopefully one that will continue on throughout the school year. I'm really excited/nervous about it. It's an amazing opportunity--it just seems like a total God-send--and I really want it to work out! So tonight I'm going to meet the woman I'll potentially be working for... I expect it to go well, I am determined that it should go well, but I'm not the one who decides these things. Pray that God would bless this venture--or rather, that I would be able to rest in his will in contentment. It's easier to ask for prayer for blessing, but honestly I probably need the other one more.

I've got to get to some work. Be sure to leave a comment if you like; two if you don't.

Love,
Inky

The clocks change, 7:30 classes are really at 6:30, everything is miserable, and then...

Spring Break happens!

So I am looking forward to a week of spending inordinate amounts of time at home just working on home-ish stuff and not having to bother with real classes.

That is to say, if you pester me sufficiently, I'll send you something. =) Not really. But I do hope to write lots of emails and maybe do a bit of blogging.

And I wouldn't mind skyping a few girls who have yet to let me see their information...two names start with an 'E,' the third starts with an 'R'. Eer....

That's all I have to say for now.

Don't know how the title is relevant. It's a very cool line taken out of its very cool context in a very cool song from a very cool album done by two very cool people which my very cool mother got for me quite randomly (but still very cool).

Enough with the very cool.

Much as I would like to say that I am swinging the world by the tail, that denotes a certain carefree-ness which is pretty much nonexistent about this time of year. Exams, papers, driving, officer retreats, work--it's all crazy. Things are looking really good for this summer, though, and I'm thankful for that.

So I don't have much to say. I'm mostly burning time between now and when I have to go meet my father at the office. Today was supposed to be a killer day; math exam at 7:30 am immediately followed by rotten photosynthesis lab. The math exam went fine--only seven problems and extra credit, which wasn't hard but meant the questions were worth more...blah. But I'm 99% sure I got the extra credit one right, which is sweet. It was something that I'm really terrible at, and we had ten minutes left and I was about to give up, but I thought about it some more and scribbled some stuff on the paper, and then the light went on and I did it! I'm really excited about that. Extra credit always helps. =)

And then lab was great. We got a super good score on our last lab report, which gave us all a boost of motivation and we finished an hour early...the only thing I hate about that is if we get a rotten score, I'll feel very bad, because we had the time to improve. I would have liked to stay and make addition stuff, but no one else did, so ah well.

I'm very tired. I didn't go to CY last night; I was falling asleep all day yesterday, and with the exam today I just couldn't. I listened to music, half-watched Henry V with Beth and the boys, and half-studied for the exam. I had the most lovely ice cream at the Marble Slab yesterday: coffee with heath bar, and that gave me some energy to study. But I mostly listened to music.

...and now I'm just being random and rather mindless. 20 minutes 'till I have to go. I do wish I'd brought more than my lab manual...I wasn't expecting this much down time.

Maybe I'll sleep...

...500 pairs of pants!

Anyone want to guess whence my Bad Joke Of The Day comes? =) [To everyone who guesses "Doctor Who"--A clue: no. Many of my posts have involved him of late, but I doubt the good ol' doctor would sink so low. =P]

In the way of news, I'm sick with all parts of a head cold minus the actual congestion (which I had last month). I have a rotter of a sore throat and much stuff to do. But I'm done with exams.

To those who were confused about the previous post's "Corny" title; it's from a song describing the Iowan landscape by a comedian whose name escapes me at present, but I was using the abundant presence of corn to indicate the excessive corniness of the joke in the post. I guess that didn't really come across effectively. Ah well.

My biology professor's one chemistry-related joke:

Two hydrogen atoms are walking down a street. One of them stops and says, "I think I just dropped an electron!" The other one queries, "Are you sure?"

"Yes!" the first responds. "I'm positive!"

Yuk Yuk. Made me laugh. =D

That's all.

Unfortunately, the assembled hoards of Genghis Khan could get through my door if they were still around to try it. I really should get meself a nice, secure TARDIS.

Oh, yeah, guess where the title came from?...now that I've gone and given it away.

Well, I am taking a break from me own stressful studyings of Introductory Biology. I had a paper due last Monday, and a math exam yesterday, so I'm going through the rigours of the first round. My first paper wasn't anything to be praised (not bad, just...dry and lacking in pep and vigour), but it was that way last semester, and my writing abilities picked up after the first time, so I'm not much worried about it being this way all semester.

I don't care what spell-check says. I shall spell "rigour" and "vigour" with the u.

It's the biology exam that I have to look forward to, which means I have to purchase scantrons sometime Monday evening. Blast and bother. I hate going into the Union bookstore, because when I do I have to plan on not carrying a backpack or bag of substance thanks to their stupid "leave your bag at the door" policy which I consider to be ridden with naivety and idiocy. I am not going to leave my bag, with $100+ textbooks and sometimes my laptop--not to mention worthless notebooks and things which I can't afford to lose even though their dollar value isn't great--in a heap with everyone else's stuff and expect to find it when I get back. I think if they are going to require you to leave your stuff at the door, they should provide you with a decent, secure checking system.

Anyway, pet rant aside, I have a trip to the U-bookstore to look forward to, a day of regular classes, and then a common exam at 5:30 in the evening. Seriously, whoever decided that every biology exam was going to be on a Monday evening either didn't care about us poor students, or had malicious intent in the scheduling of said exams. Not quite sure how that schedule is going to work out tomorrow, but I guess it will somehow.

I did not study as much as I would have liked to today, however, because it was a convenient (more or less) day to do birthday present exchanges (clothes that didn't fit) and buy new shoes (my old ones are ratty and although there are no apparent holes, walking around in the slush provided a comfortable film of cold water on the bottom of my feet. Hum.). Which means I got to do my two most favorite activities in the whole wide world...

Clothes and shoe shopping! WOO-HOOO!

...bit o' sarcasm there for you, in case you didn't realize.

So I was going to go into the shopping trip in great detail, listing all the trials and woes, the aching feet, the tortuous colors and styles, the yakety-yaketing salesmen--

but I am super tired, and I have more studying, so I'll spare y'all. Some other time, some other shopping trip...may it never happen...

G'night.

My father and I noticed something odd as we were driving to school this morning. There was one of those magnetic-letter signs reading "MLK DAY: DON'T FORGET THE DREAM."

Of course, we immediately engaged in serious discussion. "MLK DAY", we decided, must be an abbreviated form of "MILK DAY." Obviously, whoever had put the sign up had lost all the "I" letters from the box, and just decided that us decent, logical human beings would figure it out for themselves.

That led us to the most baffling issue at hand: what on earth is "MILK DAY," why have we never heard of it before, and what does it have to do with a dream?

Then it struck us. Some poor employee, up at half past five in the morning, bleary-eyed and groggy, stumbling about with his little magnetic-letter-applier-thing, must have made a typo. With his bleary eyes and groggy head, he wouldn't have noticed it, and maybe no one had looked carefully enough at the sign since then to realize the mistake. We pulled over, strolled into the main office, and talked to the secretary.

After advising her of the situation, we told her the sign would make much more sense (even without the 'I') if it read:

MILK DAY: REMEMBER THE CREAM.

We'll be looking for the change on the sign tomorrow, because change is all part of the American cream.

Dream, I mean.

Note: this is not intended to malign said owner of said sign in any way; we are not entirely sure if said owner has any bleary-eyed employees, or if the secretary of said establishment is male or female. Also, no slander is intended against propagators of cream manufactured in America or the American dream (so-called).