I’m listening to a song called “All My Little Words” by The Magnetic Fields. It was included on a CD I got last year at a “feting” (committment ceremony) I went to.
Anyway, it has the best line in it:
“Now that you’ve made me want to die,
You tell me that you’re unboyfriendable.
And I could make you pay and pay,
But I could never make you stay.”
First, I really like the word “unboyfriendable.” The second thing I like about these words is how well they encapsulate the angst of an uneven relationship.
And now, thanks to iTunes party shuffle, I’m listing to a lovely Mozart motet.
I had drinks last night with a friend of mine from college who is moving to a new city this weekend for a fellowship. Her new city is actually not that far from MY new city. We talked some about how cool our respective cities and how nice the summers are going to be.
And then she told me that she’s terrified of the winters. This from a girl who went to high school in Connecticut! It doesn’t seem to matter, thoughshe is really worried about coping with the cold!
Come to think of it, a lot of my future classmates are also terrified of the winters in that part of the countrysuch that they’re planning to pay hundreds of dollars more than we are to live in apartments that are super-close to campus, simply so they won’t have to venture out in the cold too much come winter.
So, am I missing something? Because I’m really not all that worried. Cold sucks, yes, but you bundle up and walk fast and get to where you’re going quickly. Or you take the bus instead of walking, or you call a cab if it’s really bad. Right?
Those of you who live in the tundra, tell meit’s not really so bad that I should be terrified, right? Assuming I have a warm coat and good boots and gloves, right? I’m starting to think I should be more worried than I am.
Thanks to teahouseblossom, I now have one more reason not to see War of the Worlds.
There’s no way I could sit through two-hours-plus of Tom without watching for him to open his mouth just enough for me to see the mutant tooth.
Apparently I forgot to post about thisit might have been because I received it right before the four hour drive from hellbut I finally received my Orientation packet. And this is what I learned:
Orientation starts on a Friday but all we have to do on Friday is register at Law School, letting them know we’re in town. This is, apparently, MANDATORY. Even though no other mandatory events will occur until Monday, we HAVE to be there Friday. (This is fine by me, but I could see problems for someone else.) If one doesn’t show up on Friday to register/check-in/pick up one’s stuff, one forfeits one’s seat. Ouch! Friday we also take pictures for thingsstudent ID cards, and maybe our facebook.
Saturday and Sunday are light and fun. (They’re trying to fool us into relaxing before the week starts.) We can participate in some community service activities and a kickball tournament! Oh, and there’s a breakfast with a panel called “Living with a Law Student.” I think Mr. Angst and I will go to that one. None of these events are mandatory, by the way.
So far it sounds kind of like camp, right? Hah. Monday morning, we report in for the official Welcome and…class. That’s right, we’ll be meeting all week with our Legal Writing sections. Sometime next month, we’ll be getting a reading assignment (and we’ll have to go BUY THE BOOK); during Orientation week, we’ll be assigned further reading. The sense I get is that there will be actual WRITING about this assignment, and certainly discussion of it. And lots of meeting with our section.
That week will be interspersed with other eventslunches, dinners with faculty, a mandatory reception with some law firm types, Bar Review, and even a baseball game. Those events, though, are a smokescreen. Because that whole thing about Orientation being kind of like camp? Yeah, not so much. Orientation being a lot like SCHOOL? Yeah, that sounds about right.
(Of course I am totally excited. Really!)
By the way, I just pissed off a coworker. Not really through any fault of my own (she’s having issues with a computer upgrade), but I tried to take control and show her what she couldn’t see, and she got upset.
Five weeks. Five weeks. Five weeks.
Update: Watching our IT help her makes me realize why I could never do tech support. I know more than he does about this particular problem, but he’s so much nicer about dealing with newbies. I’m too impatient and get too easily frustrated with luddites.
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith
I loved this book. Loved. Very excellent.
This book, apparently, is an American classic. And I see why. It is the story of a young girl, Francie, growing up in Brooklyn, child of the child of immigrants. They are poor but seeking greater things. The plot is not traditionalthis is not a typical story, with exposition, climax, and denoument. Rather, it is memoir-like, meandering. As Francie grows, the storytelling grows along with her. Her childhood is filled with the observations of a child; as she gets older, the writing reflects her age, becoming sharper, tighter, more adult.
One of the critical “characters” in this novel is Brooklyn, the Brooklyn of early 20th-century immigration, the Brooklyn of poor, working class men and women, the Brooklyn of Tammany Hall. It is lovingly, but fairly, treated by Smith. I think anyone whose family came to America at that time should pick up this book for no other reason than to feel these descriptions.