Guilt and Innocence: A daily primer

Apple, Apple, Orange, Elephant?

Okay, so there are no apples or elephants involved in this weeks column, but this is my blog; I can title the posts whatever I want.

Sometimes, when it comes time to come up with an idea for my column I find myself at a complete loss. In these times I am sometimes forced to write about Kansas, or really tedious, but stupid congressional matters.

Other times, some company or person does something really, really stupid and makes my job as a columnist about ten times easier. This is one of those times.

Read it. I think it's a masterpiece of column writing.

The Column: ‘Orange’ you glad you can trademark the rainbow?.

Also, I had nothing to do with the punny headline, I swear.

Book #8: A Room of One's Own

And since, I couldn't sleep last night, after I finished Lullaby, I decided to start A Room of One's Own by Virginia Woolf, which is my next required book for Humanities. I had no intentions of finishing the book, even though it's a mere 115 pages, since it was about 2:30 a.m. when I started to read. However, by the time I started to feel a little bit sleepy, I was already on page eighty, so I decided to persevere and finish the whole book.

I think this is the first time in the history of humanities when I had a book finished before lecture. An amazing feat, if you ask me.

Of course, I think A Room of One's Own is quite possibly the most straight forward, easy to read book so far in the Humanities Sequence. Woolf's tone is conversational and there's no deep symbolism or philosophies to comprehend. Really, all Woolf is saying is that for women to be productive and to create they need a steady salary and a room of one's own.

Furthermore, I think I really enjoyed reading the novel. I was interested in what Woolf was saying and the style was so conversational that I absolutely breezed through the pages. I'm almost encouraged to start reading Mrs. Dalloway, which I have lying around here somewhere, but I think that A Room of One's Own has tricked me into thinking that all of Woolf's works must be easy reads.

Still, A Room of One's Own is definitely a quick, semi-intellectual read, if you're in the market for such a book.

Book #7: Lullaby

I've already read Lullaby (by Chuck Palahniuk, for those poor unaware souls out there before) but after getting that package from chuck I decided I needed to read more than just one story, so I started reading Lullaby again.

I think Lullaby is my second favorite of Chuck's books. I think I pick favorites from his books based on the themes. I like the themes of religion in Survivor and I think that's what makes it my favorite, and the themes relating to the power of words in Lullaby are what draws me to that book.

Regardless, I'd forgotten how easy it is to read Chuck's books. I pick one up and it seems almost as soon as I've started, I'm done again. Perhaps I should read more of them here, as it seems so hard to get any pleasure reading done when I have so much to read for classes.

Mario Post-It Note Mural

I am such a nerd.

An Interview with Jim Wallis of "God's Politics"

I'm aware I'm breaking some blogging rule about no more than one post involving religion a week or something, but I'm on a roll.

From Alternet: AlterNet: On God's Side, "Jim Wallis talks about 'God's Politics' and values – by which Wallis doesn't mean hate, greed, and war-mongering."

I can't remember if I first read about this book on Slate, or saw Wallis' interview on the Daily Show, but even though I have yet to read the book (I loathe purchasing hardcovers, even if I had the time for recreational reading), I am completely in awe of this man. He seems to have the most level headed, respectable, tempered idea of the ideal balance between faith and politics in public discourse.

Honestly, this man just seems to have the best ideas about both. I really can't wait to read this book.

Bush's campaign against Jesus.

Okay, I just can't resist posting this. It's too funny:

Mad Magazine: W's campaign against Jesus..

Flaming Chalice? Not so much.

Sometimes I think I forget just how different Columbia, MO is from Lakewood. Maybe it's not the places themselves, entirely, but just the difference in the make-up of people. Maybe I put more effort into finding similar-minded people at home. Maybe here I'm just too grateful to have anyone I have something in common with around, even if we can see things so differently.

It just struck me last night, how placid I've become about faith and politics. I don't wield either as much of a weapon anymore, but as something I know and I'm semi-reluctant to share. See, Katie and I decided we wanted to go to Hitt Street, as usual, but we've become spoiled, so we went to see if Barry would drive us there.

Of course, he was wrapped up in his new computer game of choice, so we had to beg a little. We used the, "But, Barry, you wouldn't want to make us walk across campus, in the dark, alone at night" excuse, and then Katie bursts out with, "What Would Jesus Do?" I was caught completely off-guard, because in my mind, some things are just better left untouched. Regardless, finally, Barry agrees to drive us, but for some reason, no one quite drops the WWJD, thing, which I had tried to deflect into some historical inaccuracy.

So, we get to Hitt Street and we're walking through some twisty back hall of the Pershing Area commons and I have no idea where were going, and, to tell me to keep going straight, Barry says something along the lines of, "Be straight, not gay," and in response I just kind of give him this look which I hope to mean, "You're not being very funny." Then Rachel says something about that not being tolerant, and Katie, because I'm now convinced she has a death wish, says, "Yeah, what would jesus do?" Barry starts to say something, but I, in mortal fear have reached my limit of sensitive topics and proclaim that we are done with talking about what jesus would do and we're going to talk about something else.

But truthfully, the extreme non-confrontation about religion is something entirely new for me. I used to be the feisty one who would just not let sleeping dogs lie, but now for some reason I'd just rather not talk about it. Even that night, when I was talking to Barry and Delmar kind of cornered me about creationism, I didn't even try to argue. I remember just thinking that I wanted the whole conversation to be over.

It seems backwards, because I love talking about religion. I love discussing it and poking at its intricacies and reading about it. I seriously considered being a UU minister at some point, but here I just want to stand to the side. Maybe I just sense that people are too emotionally involved here, or that I am too drastically outnumbered to pick any real fights with anyone, but sometimes I wonder if maybe I'm not losing bits of my faith and myself because I am so quiet.

If I'm being silent, am I really just being a traitor to my faith? Or have I just learned to be more tolerant? I can't tell the difference.

Britain's Parents Want Ban on Cartoon Cereals

Link: 'Cut cartoon food promotion ploy'

A bunch of British parents are saying that the find it too hard to say no to their kids when there are cartoon characters on cereal boxes. Furthermore, they believe this is something the cereal companies or the government should be doing something about.

Is it just me, or have parents forgotten how to parent? I don't remember my parents having a hard time telling me or my sister, "No," when we asked for something we shouldn't have or they didn't want to buy is. Well, unless it was books; I could always get books out of them.

Still, are kids so spoiled and parents so ineffective that the government, here and abroad, needs to mandate everything? First television, now cereals.

Come on! Someone step up to the plate and take some responsibility.

Book #6: A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man

Reading James Joyce is a curious experiment.

Although this is the second time in two years I have worked my way through the labyrinth of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, and even though both of those times I read the book for class, I still find myself missing things. Someone will bring something up and my reaction is, "What? When did that happen?"

Perhaps, it's all a part of Joyce's evil plan to trap us all into eternally reading his books. The thing is, the first time I read Portrait, I hated it. I hated stream-of-conciousness and I hated Joyce's pompousness and Irishness.

However, this time in reading it, I felt like the book hated me. Joyce's style makes it feel like I'm being kept in the dark on an inside joke. The language is so dense that I can barely get a sense of what's going on. But, still, I think I liked the book.

Or, maybe, I would like the book if it would just let me in on its secret.

Score: Joyce: 2 Kim: 0.

The Texan in the Library

I like the fairy tale idea that the President is reading I am Charlotte Simmons.

Okay, maybe it's all one big public relations move, but seriously, just the idea that the president might be reading Wolfe's novel makes the next four years a little more bearable for me.

I mean, he may screw us over on every last piece of policy, but at least he can pick one good book.

Saying Farewell to Fear and Loathing: Hunter S. Thompson passes away at 65

For once, I didn't hear about this online. I was actually sitting down at lunch, yesterday, in my temporary state of grace before I check my e-mail for updates about the world, when Graft mentioned that some author died. I inquired further, only semi-curious, and he said, "Thompson or something, I think?"

"Hunter S. Thompson?" I asked.

Turns out I was right and a bit shocked.

Hunter S. Thompson, 65, Author, Commits Suicide

For one thing, he's not that old. He was only sixty-five and as of last year was still publishing articles. Furthermore, this is the first time an author's death really struck me. I remember being a little bit disappointed when Douglas Adams died a few years ago, but I suppose I wasn't expecting anything more from him.

When Arthur Miller died earlier this month, I was half-surprised to hear he was still alive.

The thing is, as far as the authors I'm familiar with, this is the first time I can recall being truly cognizant of one of them moving from the group of living authors I admire, to the ones who have passed away.

Furthermore, I think its clear that I admired Thompson's work more than some others. After all, the name of this blog itself came from a quote from The Great Shark Hunt. Thompson was so distinctive to me. He seemed to be one of the last individual voices.

The first thing I was reminded of was my sophomore year in High School when my friend Rob, who absolutely admired Thompson, came to school one weekend in an ecstatic glee after visiting Thompson's "fortified compound" in Aspen. "You guys," he yelled, "I got shot at by Hunter S. Thompson!"

In retrospect, the whole incident seems a bit sadder, now.

Kansas is a Lousy Place to Live..

...and other things you already knew.

I'm really not a fan of my column this week, but I'm giving in and posting it here anyway. Maybe this brief moment of embarrassment will convince me not to write inferior columns in the future. Somehow, I suspect not.

The column: There’s always room for more in Kansas.

Welcome to the Party

I think I'm inept at being there for people when they need me. It's not that I don't try; I do. It just seems that I never know what to say and I never know how to comfort them. I'm not even very good at hugs. Physical contact has always been a grey area for me.

This weekend feels like a bad dream. Saturday, Katie dragged me out of bed to go Downtown to rent a movie for her Spanish class. It was a Sex and the City free weekend and at some point that evening we ended up hanging out in Erika and Olivia's room. We watched Return to Me and part of Ray before deciding to go the Music Cafe to hear some band that was playing. Without me actually agreeing to go at all, I ended up in a skirt that wasn't mine and wearing heels because they were the only shoes I could wear without socks.

The Music Cafe was interesting. I couldn't lose myself in music in the ways I usually can, mostly because the bands were pretty subpar, but it was an enjoyable enough time. We almost convinced Dave to go buy a drink because the X's on his hands indicating his minor status had worn off, but as usual, he was being all talk and no action.

Afterwards, Erika, Katie, and I decided we wanted to go to Steak and Shake, but we couldn't find anyone with a car who wanted to either loan it to us or drive us there. At some point we ended up on the 2nd floor hanging out with Frank and the various engineering boys of the 2nd floor. We were just about to go to Steak and Shake with Paul and his various acquaintance when Frank called Erika and told her that he was waiting outside if we wanted to come hang out at his place. So, we ended up going to Frank's house instead which I felt a bit guilty about.

Frank's involved sitting around watching Dodgeball and drinking. Drinking too much on a too empty stomach. I don't even think I had that much, but soon I was very drunk and a little bit later I was very sick. I don't remember a lot about the night. Just weird cut off moments that seem insignificant.

However, the next day, not only was I sick, but I was suffering from a severe case of drinker's remorse. I have ambivalent feelings about drinking in general, but that whole night seems so out of character and so me at the same time. The sheer randomness of the timing of everything and the excesses are so typically me. Regardless, I don't think I'll be drinking more anytime soon.

No, not right now. I have better things to do.

Burning the candle, when the wind allows

". . . and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes 'Awww!'"
-Jack Kerouac, On the Road

My father once told me he thought I must be bipolar because one day I would be raving at the world and the next I would wrap myself in this cocoon of darkness and sullenness that no one could penetrate.

Sometimes, I think he must have been right about something. I exhaust the people around me, but I personally never tire. That night, when we drove to Laramie and I hadn't slept the night before, that night as the hours I'd been awake crept into thirty and past that towards forty, I remember lying in bed with energy, some energy coming from the fumes of calories, and still being ready for something to stimulate me.

Sleep never comes easily for me. One by one the people around me retire but I find myself with always something more to say. I always have another idea to explore and if you could just let me...if you could feel the way I sometimes burn inside...

Tonight, for example, the girls, and by the girls almost all of us: Katie, Jessica, Kim, Maxine, Erika, Olivia and I, went to see the Vagina Monologues that the Women's center was putting on. The performance was exhilarating and only rarely did I find myself getting lost in distraction or boredom. Never have I seen so much estrogen and energy stirring in a room, almost to the point where there was something electric, maybe at moments, but never quite that stirring.

Then afterwards, still running on the energy of words, I hung out with Barry and his friend Rachel from SMS. Drinking coffee and ruminating on the nature of music, the topics of nerds, and watching internet films embodying that nerdyness (Red vs. Blue, if you must know), I was having fun. Even with someone I had never met I felt a little bit of that old ease, but they had to sleep as they were going to St. Louis the next morning.

So I moved on the suitemates room where they were finishing the final moments of School of Rock. Afterwards, those of us with the touches of insomnia, being Erika, Katie, and I, headed to the dirty diner, which finally was open. I had some pancakes and then we moved on to indulging habits that shouldn't be indulged. We wandered around campus and I, being the night person I am, rambled about anything and everything, "let that which truly does not matter slide," and it was nice. It was the ease of just being and not having to do something that I spend so much time waiting for.

Finally, Katie reached her limit and retired and I headed to Erika and Olivia's room where I jsut went. Fueled by so many chemicals in my body, caffeine and the adrenaline of late night and others, I ranted and ranted about everything and my mind never stopped, never eased for a second, until I began to realize that maybe they were a bit tired and I decided to excuse myself.

But nights like tonight are the nights I wait for and cherish. I need nothing more than the raging river of thought to keep me content and satisfied. I don't want to get dressed up and go out. I want to sit down and tell you what I think about life, the universe, and everything. However, sometimes I catch on that I may be just so intense sometimes. I realize that when I get started I never even complete a thought because everything branches out into this vast experience of life and everything reminds me of something else. Connections are drawn in the air and I begin to run out of breath.

Still, I wonder if I will ever find the person who can keep up with me. I told Erika and Katie tonight that I am high-maintenance in the emotional sense. It's not so much that I need constant attention; I don't. It's more that I feel things so deeply that I will wear out most people's energy. Emotions run deep with in me and I recognize that for most people they stop somewhere, but I have yet to find the person that wears me out.

I can't remember the last time I went to bed because I was drained of energy, rather than just tired because I was bored. I can't remember the last time I was the one who wanted to leave, who wanted to go to sleep first.

Where are the people who let their minds run the way I let mine? Where are the people who cherish the intoxicating energy of the night and early morning? When will I find the one who can keep up with my frantic pace?

The ones who are mad, mad, mad...

Buying Playboy for the Articles Redeux

Sometimes I manage to be a good student and I get things done by a reasonable time of evening. Then there are the nights when it's 11:33 p.m. and I haven't started to write a humanities paper that's due in less than twelve hours. This is one of those nights.

Still, I'm not feeling the stirrings of motivation.

Last night, in honor of my receiving that wonderful package from Chuck, I decided I would make a pilgrimage to Hitt Street Market to obtain the March issue of Playboy which includes Chuck Palahniuk's short story "Punch Drunk."

Of course, Katie was the necessary Catholic accomplice and Barry served as transportation. (How many people can claim they've purchased porn in the presence of their CA?) I was hoping, since we went about midnight, that Hitt street would be relatively deserted. This was not so much the case. There were a good five or ten people milling around. I want to say that I was completely shameless about this endeavor, but the truth is I think I was blushing before we'd even gotten inside Hitt Street.

I procrastinated by milling around and looking at pastry items before I finally got up the nerve to approach the magazine rack and pick up the magazine, tastefully wrapped in shrink wrap. Of course, Barry and Katie at this point continued to wander around Hitt Street at this point, adding to my embarrassment.

Purchasing was relatively painless until the cashier asked if I would like a bag, to which I sheepishly replied, "Yes, please," which caused Barry and Katie to burst out laughing which made me that much more embarrassed.

For some reason, I can talk about the dirtiest things you can think of and not bat an eyelash but actually having to purchase pornography, even if it's only Playboy, just makes me blush.

Since the roommate was sleeping by this time, I went to Barry's room with Katie to devour the story, while ignoring the rest of the magazine. However, Katie, being the curious Catholic that she is, insisted on looking at the rest of the magazine. Then Barry wanted to see it, which made for an awkward moment or two, but this is the price I pay for appreciating Chuck's work.

The story was good, but not one of my favorites. It was worth the five dollars and the embarrassment, regardless.

Why I Love Chuck Palahniuk

What was a hard, somewhat lonely Valentine's day has turned into one of the best in my memory, though admittedly this all occurred somewhat after the fact.

At some point today, Jessica told me there was a package slip in our mailbox with my name on it. However, since I wasn't expecting a package, I was in no hurry to run down and pick it up, so I figured I would just get it on the way back from dinner.

So, I go to pick up Mystery Package X and Alison, who was working at the desk at time jokingly remarks, "It's from Chuck Palahniuk." Only, I look down to the return address label to see that it is from Chuck Palahniuk. Of course, Alison thought is was a joke, since I had kept the fact that I had written him a letter in November rather quiet, as I felt like somewhat of a nerd.

Anyway, I brought the package upstairs and opened it to find a box filled with tinsel and the following things:
2 Unusually Shaped Erasers
1 Bouncy Ball
2 Miniature Snickers
1 Mini Whitman's Sampler
1 Package of Relighting Birthday Candles
1 Rubber Duck
1 Set of Mini Valentine's Stamps
1 Fake Vomit Novelty
1 Yellow Lamb Puppet (My Power Lamb, as it were)

And the two most important items:
A copy of Fight Club inscribed: "Relax and let the Lamb and Stones work for you," with a signed packet of sunflower seeds and a temporary tattoo stuck inside.
A handmade necklace with various semi-precious stones, as well as beads spelling out "To Kim Adams From Chucky P."

All of this was accompanied by a personalized letter, which explained the various healing properties of the stone in the necklace and included some encouragement. At the bottom of the letter was written, "Happy Valentine's Day."

In all truthfulness, I nearly cried. I know this is what Chuck does for everyone who writes him (or in this case everyone who wrote him during the month of November), but it still means a lot to know that even though there are thousands upon thousands of people who read his books and probably hundreds who write him letters, he will still devote the time to show them that they are appreciated.

I mean, I remember the first time I really fell in love with a book was when I read On the Road by Jack Kerouac, because I felt so sad at the time and that book seemed to illustrate for me that the world could be just as sad for someone else, that I wasn't alone.

However, reading Chuck's books, I got the same feeling, that there was someone else out there who understood the way I felt about things, but the difference between Kerouac's books and Chuck's, the difference that made Chuck my favorite author, is the way his books feel like a conversation. His books feel like sitting down to your closest friends telling you a story. They have that sort of intimacy. It's Chuck's books I want to share with the world, because even though they have their nihilistic, apocalyptic, atheistic moments, they're actually quite cozy reads. The stories are insane, the character more so, but the sentiment, the sentiment feels like home.

Bush Calls to Extend Patriot Act.

I'm so tired of this game..

Durring the formal swearing in of troture-lauding Attorney General Gonzales, Bush decided to rub some salt on the wound by remarking, "To protect the American people, Congress must promptly renew all provisions of the Patriot Act this year."

I had problems with the Patriot Act from the very moment of its conception, but to a degree I understood that in the game of politics when something as earthshattering as 9/11 happens, you sometimes have to fight fire with fire. I figured that as long as sensitivities were running high there was no way anyone was going to stand up to the Patriot Act regardless of the fact it's a vile piece of legislation.

Now, since it's been over three years since 9/11, I was hoping that the government could view the Patriot Act with a more scrutinizing eye and realize that the lmitis it places on civil liberties are unconstitutional and unnecessary, in addition to being most ineffective when it comes to the purpose of fighting terrorism.

As the ACLU remarked, "The president and the attorney general must realize that security and liberty are not - and cannot be - mutually exclusive."

Yes, and they must realize it soon.

Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

The trailer for The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is on Amazon.com, today.

I have to admit that I've been anxiously awaiting news about this movie. The Hitchhiker's Guide... has always been one of my favorite books and I was excited to see a movie adaptation. "Was" being the key word. After watching that trailer I'm extremely aprehensive. However, I will not give up hope. After all, John Malkovich has a role, and if anyone can save a movie, it's John Malkovich.

I'm not going to worry about it anymore.

I don't usually have a problem with Valentine's Day. It's not my favorite holiday by any means, but it's always seemed like this holiday I would enjoy if I had the right person to share it with. I enjoy the cute things about it too, like giving valentines to your friends, but today I just couldn't take it. Today, I wanted to be home. I wanted my family and my dog. I wanted the friends I know I can count on, not the friends I think I can.

The thing is I don't trust easily and I never trust perfectly.

I'm so tired, I've been pushed too close to the brink all day and I just don't want to be this person. I don't want to be the grumpy single. I don't care. I decided a while ago that things will work out when there supposed to work out and that there is nothing wrong with being single now or for a long time to come.

"Good things come to those who wait."

Still, all I wanted today was a call from my parents or a card in the mail. Something to remind me that at least I'll have my family to get me through the lonely times. But I guess we were never a close family and I always pushed them away, so what can I be expecting?

So, I'll just wait, because that's what I'm good at it.

Speaking of governing pants...

Because what the government needs to be doing is legislating fashion.

Happy Valentine's Day

Because if you haven't already gotten a My Little Pony valentine from me, you probbably live in another state, I offer you: The Onion Love Coupons.

Have a happy V-day.

Are we evolving into creationists?

This New York Times editorial, God and Evolution, suggests that perhaps the belief in a higher being increases our chances of survival from an evolutionary perspective.

Kristof writes, "Imagine if, as a cosmic joke, humans have gradually evolved to leave many of us doubting evolution."

While I find this most amusing for the irony of the situation, from my experience it has always seemed that there are some people who naturally need religion in their life in some form and some who don't. Truthfully, if this weren't the case I could never have seen the Unitarian Universalist church coming about. For us, we need some sort of spirituality, something to ease that gnawing need for knowledge of something beyond the material world, but we don't fit into the structures of normal churches.

However, I found it hard to believe that a belief in God something that is favored by the process of evolution. But if that's the case it means bad news for Democrats. We're not the most god-fearing bunch.

The Government In Your Pants

Another Friday passes and there's another column for your reading pleasure.

Medicare’s money shouldn’t enhance Viagra

I suppose these things happen.

This has been a rather weird, wasted weekend.

Wasted, because I have been sleeping late into the afternoon for no apparent reason. Getting out of bed just doesn't seem worth it on these weekends.

Weird, because people are so complicated. I suppose we've gotten to that point in relationships that drama is inevitable, but I feel so unprepared.

Friday, we rented the rest of Season two of Sex and the City and proceeded to almost watch both disks in one sitting, but finally Kim and I protested, and you know when even I am tired of sex and the city, it's too much. Then I went and hung out with Erika and Olivia, which was fun and different. We made ridiculous e-vite invitations because we could.

Saturday we finished off the Sex and the City and then Erika and I took a trip to Wal-Mart in John Howe's car. I bought myself some food and we picked up the candy Maxine and Erika needed to finish their val-o-grams. We stopped by the new Macaroni Grill and were going to sit down and have some cheesecake and coffee, but at eight thirty at night the wait was still an hour and a half, so we decided to get our cheesecake to go. We came back and watched Fight Club because I had been craving the movie since brushing my teeth that morning and thinking, "I suppose these things happen." (I guess technically I had been brushing my teeth that afternoon.)

This semester seems so blah. I think, if possible, we've been staying in even more than we did last semester and, truthfully, there's hardly any work to keep me occupied. Not that I necessarily mind the lack of homework, but when time is strained it usually feels more valuable. And so it goes.

Behold the Power of Satire (and Digital Video)

I don't know who made this and I don't know where it came from, but it is the most amusing perhaps slightly eerily dead-right political satire I've seen in a long time. It's not even just making fun of Bush or the conservatives, this is some good equal-opportunity satire.

I know it's just some thrown together spliced video and sound clips, but I like it.

Oh, satire how I appreciate thee.

Veggie Vibrators?

For those of you who don't know me, you may not realize that I have no shame. Well, I have no shame, so I feel I must link to this:

VegSexShop.com :: Vegan Condoms, Lube, Dental Dams, Gloves, & Adult Novelties (Link probably not safe for work, or the Mark Twain computer lab where I am currently sitting, but, like I said, I have no shame.)

Somethings are just too hilarious. Next time I'm in the market for a vibrator I'll have to keep that site in mind. (Oh, don't worry yourselves, I only kid.)

Laissez les bons temps rouler

I think this afternoon has reaffirmed my faith in Karma. Despite the utter tediousness and abounding annoyances of last week, I am feeling much better. I visited the only Starbucks in Columbia, called and found out that my precious laptop should be in my hands sometime tomorrow (hopefully with my hard-drive restored), got an A on my first Humanities paper and I bought a HyVee king cake, which would be the first real King Cake I've had since I moved from New Orleans six years ago. In other words, happiness is in plentiful supply and Karma is still in working order. In fact I've been so upbeat that I've been cha-chaing around the dorm, which according to Alison, looks something more like prancing, but at this moment few things are going to get me down.

Also, I did manage to briefly escape the dorm this weekend. Saturday night I went to a party with Paul. It was his friend Scott's birthday (or Scotti Gras, as it was so ingeniously called) and a fairly small gathering. There were only twenty or so people present at any one time, and of those people I had only met one before. However, Patrick was donning a stunning pair of pink heels, although a bit tipsy. I didn't end up drinking, because once faced with the option, I just didn't really care, but I had a good time and was grateful just to get out of the dorm.

I spent Sunday hanging out with Alison behind the desk working on our marathon Spanish workbook assignment before we headed off to a lightly attended meeting of Ballroom Dancing, as the Superbowl was also going on. However, dance class was the highlight of the week as usual and miraculously I actually ended up with someone not quite so tall. Then, you know, floor government meeting, communist revolution, two hours of the history channel, for a typical Sunday night.

______ is a four letter word.

This has been the longest week.

It's been one of those weeks where all these little things build and build upon themselves until you're driving yourself completely insane. For example, I still don't have a computer, I still haven't resolved what's resulted in a nervous breakdown, still haven't found a job, and to put the icing on the cake I've been practically abandoned to my own devices this weekend.

None of those things are even mildly worth being upset over, but the mass accumulation of all of these things has just set me on the edge. In fact, the only highlight of this week I can recall is when Katie and I made the executive decision not to go to J-1100 and instead decided to sit in Mark Twain, watch Garden State, and then proceed to Panera and buy a bunch of bagels. Well, the Spring-like weather was nice, too.

However, I'm ready to get my laptop back and I'm ready for this week, including this boring uneventful weekend to be over and done with. It's time for something a little less tedious than this.

Book #5: Trainspotting

I was little apprehensive when I started to read Trainspotting because before beginning it all I had heard about the book was that no one could get through it because the Scottish dialect the book is written in made it completely unintelligible for most.

However, after maybe two or three pages, I was flying through the Scottish slang. Maybe  it's because I grew up in the Cajun south, one of the few places where one can still encounter a true dialect from time to time, but dialect in books just doesn't phase me. I flew through A Clockwork Orange, and I barely blink when I encounter passages written in dialects in other novels, so what is for many Trainspotting's major downfall didn't phase me one bit.

Having said that, I'm still not saying that Trainspotting lives up to its own hype. Its billed as this amazing novel that "deserves to sell more copies than the Bible," but I just don't see it. There are some moving moments and the book is by no means bad or unenjoyable, but it's not stunning either. It's another interesting escape into a world full of drugs I'll never experience firsthand, but not, for me at least, much more than that.

My recommendation, if dialect doesn't phase you, pick it up and give it read, but if dialect is something you have to struggle through, it's okay to pass this one by.

See the Spectacle: Bush does something right

So, it's that time of the week, again. Yes, my friends it's time once again to read my weekly column in The Maneater. This is an especially astonishing column because I say something nice about our president. Yes, it seems that for once, our bumbling president did something I agree with. So click below and whitness the spectacle, showing for a limited time only.

The Maneater - Don’t like what you see? Turn off your TV.

Groundhog Day

This week has been rather mediocre so far, mostly due to my freaking out about what should be nothing. Twice. Thankfully, I have the coolest CA ever, who keeps my ice cream in his freezer and lets me freak out at two in the morning on a tuesday.

Continuing with the theme of things kind of sucking, I went to see A Very Long Engagement at the Ragtag last night, but the projector freaked out about thirty minutes before the ending so I have no idea what happened. I got my money back, which is good because I probably shouldn't have been spending it anyway, but I would much rather have seen the last half hour of the movie. Also, I think I am an inferior person when I am broke. Normally I wouldn't have bothered to take the refund because I really like the Ragtag, but at this point I need that six dollars until I  get my refund check.

I took a three hour nap instead of going to my slightly optional statistics lecture and now I feel a little dead to the world.

Tonight's Groundhog Day on Groundhog Day, though, so maybe excessive amounts of popcorn and chocolate combined with a Bill Murray movie will cheer me up.