i like some mighty weird things....

I love poetry class!

Take words and twist them—
Make their meanings yours—
Decide their fate benevolently.
“Spiral” will recall spring;
Whereas “winter” will be warm
And lightly moistly damp.
Painted lands with altered words
May appear a minor wrong
Like cacti in plots of jell-O
But as long as they float on multilayered glass,
Words can come and go as you like.

In other news,

I tried to eat meat today for lunch. All the way home, I told myself I would eat a yummy turkey sandwich when I finally reached the haven of Shingle Paradise. I got home and took out all the ingredients. The turkey did not look appetizing. "Self," I said, "what you really want is ham." So out came the ham. The ham looked even less delicious. It smelled like ham and it looked like ham. "Self," I said. "Quit kidding yourself and get out the cheese and tomatoes." Needless to say, this advice was heeded.

Statement of nonvegetarianism.

I am not a vegetarian. I like dishes with meat in them. I eat meat practically every day (not completely by choice, but that's another story). However, I don't usually eat meat for lunch and I am a staunch advocate of the one-vegetarian-dinner-a-week (two on a good week) rule. Thus I have earned an undeserved reputation for being a detester of DAIHC (Dead Animals Intended for Human Consumption). Contrary to this popular opinion, I find that DAIHC can be delicious in appropriate doses, and furthermore, is a vital compotent of a healthy diet. Like chocolate, it should be eaten four to seven times a week for optimal performance.

updating just for the sake of updating...pitiful, I know

Although I didn't drive a Miata or drift around a parking lot, break was not all that bad. I made sweet potatoes from scratch which was quite fun. I hung with some of my gal pals that I miss terribly, and I saw Casino Royale with friends gal and otherwise. I actually really liked it, although he had a little too much fun with women if you know what I mean. Plus, it's always sad to see cars die.

One thing I didn't really do is homework (minus reading 100 pages of a book about Emily Dickinson, which really should have been 200 pages plus another book). Therefore I have several things I need to be returning to right now, and very little time to update my blog.

Ciao!

Thanksgiving break is in two days...

....and I intend to have some fun!

(When Sara discovers a new way to waste time on google, everyone benefits! At least everyone who clicks on her links...)

a Thursday...

Pumpkin ice cream. Mmmmmmmmm...

Tonight I had dinner at Earhart with many other people from CORPs. A grand time was had by all as far as I could tell. The feast whet my appetite for some real Thanksgiving food, that is, Thanksgiving food prepared by my mother. No one can beat her pie crust. However, I must say the dorm version was fun and I owe a great hardy thanks to Stephen Paul Roberts.

Tomorrow is Mia's birthday. She will be 21 and the sherry in our fridge will finally be legal. Did I just type that out loud? Oops. My bad.

As I am currently being assaulted by my sister, I believe this is a good stopping point for this post.

olfactory appendage vs. concrete

This Friday my nose made the acquaintance of the sidewalk by Northwestern Avenue. It was not an amicable introduction. My nose suffered the most from this encounter while the sidewalk seems utterly unaffected.

A third party in this incident, my bike, was slightly affected. However, its crooked handlebars were straightened out by the Amazing Ross Cerbus (haven't you missed his presence on this blog?) who happened to be walking by while I was bleeding bright red blood all over the unsympathetic sidewalk.

Signs of the meeting are declining, thankfully. The blue bruise across the bridge of my nose has faded, only to be replaced by a big red scab. I hope none of my freckles under it disappear. That would be just tragic since I am rather attached to them. This whole ordeal should be teaching me to be less vain about my looks, however.

MAA

I hear the first step is admitting that you have a problem. I seem to have an addiction. All well and good; we shall now see if I can manage to act against my addiction. However, we won't be able to tell whether I am cured for several months. Let me explain...

It all begins when I wait for my advisor to come out of her office in Beering Hall and call my name. I have a tendency to collect yellow sheets from the big file drawers located conveniently near the chairs I am supposed to sit in and wait patiently. This is probably the first step in my addiction.

These sheets have many interesting things on them. Verrrry interesting things, like lists of classes...that I want to take...that would fill that hole in my junior year...and senior year...and next semester...

Musings like these lead to the fulfillment of my addiction: I walk into my advisor's office and announce, "I want to add another minor!"

I know. I did it again. I am incapable of walking into that office and restraining myself. I've done it for the last three semesters. If I keep doing it, I will be in school forever. As it is, however, I still have a few random holes in my schedule for my senior year, and a reasonable schedule of no more than 18 credits per semester for the rest of my college career.

And a brand, spanking new Religious Studies minor.

(The title stands for Minor Adders Anonymous, by the way.)

a poem for Andrew (don't worry; you won't gag)

Tomorrow Andrew will sit down to take the GRE
He will pick up his pencil and think of me
No, you dork! You need to focus!
Look at the question: two plus three.

My, this is easy, Andrew will think to himself
“Five” he will confidently write
But as he looks around he realizes that by mistake
He has wandered into Math for El Ed, what an oversight!

He must dodge Mia’s flying projectile
As to his trusty green bike he will race
He will become a blur in the crowd,
A look of grim determination on his face.

A blur of speed, a blur of might, a blur which will
Flatten an innocent pedestrian walking
To her poetry class in a dream world,
Obliviously dreaming and conjugating and rhyming.

To his dismay Andrew will have to stop to scrape her up
When he notices her eyes are blue like skies
That predict a thunderstorm in the near future.
Everything else from Andrew’s brain flies.

“Sara!” he will exclaim with joy
“Andrew!” she will exclaim back
(Only, of course, in a more feminine way)
Melodious chimes will issue from the clock.

“Blimey! I’m late for the GRE!”
Now Andrew’s exclamation lacks luster
As he hops on his bike once more
And rides off with all the strength he can muster.

Into the classroom he will dash
The gears inside his brain will turn
His pencil will fill in little dots
Information and answers and formulas will churn.

The small black dots that speckle his sheet
Will remind him of pupils of eyes
Blue eyes, to be exact, and dreamily he will gaze
Out the window at the somewhat stormy skies.

A squeak of a chair, a scrape of a pencil
Will bring Andrew back to that place,
Hurriedly he will finish the problem
And the GRE he will ace.

Sophomore Says She Had 'One of Those Moments'

A Purdue student in the College of Liberal Arts said she realized the bliss small events can create while she was waiting for an English class to commence.

"Dude, I totally had one of those moments," said Sara Young, a sophomore. "It started when I was eating an English muffin" in a Heavilon Hall classroom.

Young said she was pleasantly surprised to find that her English muffin, which a roommate had brought her earlier in the day, had been toasted.

"I was already happy because I was thinking how nice it is to have roommates who help you out when you realize you have an extra class today and will starve before you get home," Young said. "And then I made a marvelous discovery [that the muffin had been toasted]."

Young's roommate, Kara Wegener, a senior (!) in the College of Liberal Arts, provided the toasted food.

"I never would have thought of doing that if she had called me begging for an English muffin and cheese," Young said. "It just made my day."

"Then I was randomly flipping through my poetry book and I came across this frickin' awesome poem," Young said.

Young said that although she usually "immensely enjoys" poetry class, the poems discussed in her class today were "tedious." However, she said she entertained herself by writing a rough draft of a blog entry.

Professor Daniel Morris, who taught the class, said he was "mildly shocked to think that anyone could use the word 'tedious'" to describe the class.

"I confess I sometimes ramble," Morris said. "But when that happens I try to stop myself and call on this girl Sara whether or not she has her hand up. She always has interesting insights."

Morris denied playing favorites.

I'm cold

Nothing is comparable to a fuzzy, warm fleece blanket.

Or a cup of steaming apple cider.

Or the sound that occurs right after you turn the thermostat up two degrees.