So, the weekend.
Here are a few lessons I learned.
1. Fashion, no matter how hideous, is always fresh, beautiful, and modern.
2. I can drive up to the Chicagoland area in under six hours.
3. Pigeons can detect the difference between a Picasso and a Monet.
4. Laura-Ann is a wonderful girl.
5. My current employer does not have a very friendly/flexible/reasonable/logical absentee policy.
6. Someone from MU has read my Blog. All of it. Every single page. (Identify yourself via guestbook...or else.)
7. Theo and I are going to have a one-bedroom apartment in Roger's Park with two beds, no smoking, hardwood floors, and (preferably) a balcony.
8. Vases can wear corsets.
9. I still cry hysterically every time I have to return to this place.
10. I may really be "depressed," in the non-pop-culture medical way.
11. I no longer have a roommate--only an echoing, barren room I call my own.
12. I love Theo.
I think that's it.
A record of the life and times of one brown shirt-wearing university student, struggling to escape his fear of intimacy, overcome his hunger for eternal supremacy in every aspect, and never have to write a description of his life like this again.
Monday, September 30, 2002
Thursday, September 26, 2002
Yes, yes.
I didn't tell anyone about this new fact of my future life, because I didn't want people (especially Erin) to think my decision to leave Missouri was based upon Theo (alone). But, he's alluded to it, so I might as well expound upon it: Theo and I are getting an apartment together next semester, ideally in Roger's Park. I didn't want to tell Erin, even though it was horribly hard since she's my closest confidant and I'm terribly thrilled about the idea, but I didn't want her assuming more than I think she already does. (I think I explained my reasons for leaving quite well to her at Denny's on Tuesday, and she agrees with my points.) So, that's that.
I have so much to do, and such little time to complete all of my necessary tasks. I have an entire page of listed-off chores in my notebook--I hope to achieve all of them by the weekend's end.
I really do enjoy French as a language.
I didn't tell anyone about this new fact of my future life, because I didn't want people (especially Erin) to think my decision to leave Missouri was based upon Theo (alone). But, he's alluded to it, so I might as well expound upon it: Theo and I are getting an apartment together next semester, ideally in Roger's Park. I didn't want to tell Erin, even though it was horribly hard since she's my closest confidant and I'm terribly thrilled about the idea, but I didn't want her assuming more than I think she already does. (I think I explained my reasons for leaving quite well to her at Denny's on Tuesday, and she agrees with my points.) So, that's that.
I have so much to do, and such little time to complete all of my necessary tasks. I have an entire page of listed-off chores in my notebook--I hope to achieve all of them by the weekend's end.
I really do enjoy French as a language.
Wednesday, September 25, 2002
And Theo can come visit me
If visiting means sitting on our couch together or cooking in our kitchen, why yes, I would be visiting you. Otherwise, it will take an act of (G)od or a grumpy admissions person to keep us from living together.
If visiting means sitting on our couch together or cooking in our kitchen, why yes, I would be visiting you. Otherwise, it will take an act of (G)od or a grumpy admissions person to keep us from living together.
As the autumn wind breezes through the slowly changing leaves, a surprising alteration to my routine may transpire: Christian is moving out.
He's trying to room with the guy across the hall from us because "[his] computer's coming, and it won't fit in our room." This means that he's figured out I'm queer and doesn't want me watching him undress or some other homophobic rationale.
I know I should be excited about this, but I'm not at all. First, I feel guilty because I feel like I pushed him out of the room with my homosexuality. I hate that people can't accept menial things like my being gay. It really isn't that big of a deal. You look like a battered-and-deep-fried Frankenstein, Christian. Get over it; I'm not attracted to you. This further proves to me that, as chldish as it may seem, nobody likes me/can get along with me/stand me. Also, i feel like i'm going to be missing out on the "essential life experience" of having a roommate. If i transfer to Chicago (which everyone seems to know about even though I only told Erin), i'll be living in an apartment with people/someone I already know.
Sigh.
This does mean that I'll be able to actually SLEEP sometimes. And I set my own sleeping schedule. And my room will smell better. And Theo can come visit me. And I'll have more room. I'm so torn about this.
I'l find out tomorrow if this is "fo sho" or not.
He's trying to room with the guy across the hall from us because "[his] computer's coming, and it won't fit in our room." This means that he's figured out I'm queer and doesn't want me watching him undress or some other homophobic rationale.
I know I should be excited about this, but I'm not at all. First, I feel guilty because I feel like I pushed him out of the room with my homosexuality. I hate that people can't accept menial things like my being gay. It really isn't that big of a deal. You look like a battered-and-deep-fried Frankenstein, Christian. Get over it; I'm not attracted to you. This further proves to me that, as chldish as it may seem, nobody likes me/can get along with me/stand me. Also, i feel like i'm going to be missing out on the "essential life experience" of having a roommate. If i transfer to Chicago (which everyone seems to know about even though I only told Erin), i'll be living in an apartment with people/someone I already know.
Sigh.
This does mean that I'll be able to actually SLEEP sometimes. And I set my own sleeping schedule. And my room will smell better. And Theo can come visit me. And I'll have more room. I'm so torn about this.
I'l find out tomorrow if this is "fo sho" or not.
Monday, September 23, 2002
Briefly...
It's 11:30, my clock. That's 30 minutes past "quiet time." My RA (whose room is next door) is blaring his video game and yukking it up loudly and obnoxiously with...you guessed it...my roommate! I need my goddamned fucking sleep you brainless imbeciles.
At least I don't have roommate issues like Sarah. I wouldn't want to be in her shoes.
It's 11:30, my clock. That's 30 minutes past "quiet time." My RA (whose room is next door) is blaring his video game and yukking it up loudly and obnoxiously with...you guessed it...my roommate! I need my goddamned fucking sleep you brainless imbeciles.
At least I don't have roommate issues like Sarah. I wouldn't want to be in her shoes.
I never realized how resentful Erin is towards me, in the aftermath of our failed relationships. She truly blames me for her love issues (which I won't go into grave detail about here; that's distasteful), and I suppose I never really considered that as a possibility. I mean, in this day and age, what girl hasn't or won't date a gay man? I didn't know I was totally queer back then...I still believed in that juvenile theory called "bisexuality." This just adds another layer of urine to the litterbox.
Oh my...that's a disgusting visual image.
Oh my...that's a disgusting visual image.
The remainder of the weekend was unexciting.
Theo and I saw "Mostly Martha," a German film about a (beautiful) chef's tribulations with her newly-orphaned neice, love life, career foibles, and middle-aged status on Saturday at CineArts. It was quite enjoyable. Even my aunt (who obviously didn't see the film with us) loved it, and she has a very well-trained cultural palate.
Sunday, my beautiful sister "confirmed her faith" at a church my family never goes to anymore (they've switched to a more contemporary church in Algonquin, as opposed to our original decaying middleground Lutheran church). Gratuituous food and family followed, to my dismay.
"How's school, Brian?"
"Oh, it's...interesting. It's not what I expected."
I had to take ten-minute breaks from the incessant fibbing, my head hurt so badly.
My "sister" (neighbour I practically grew up with and lived under the same roof as) commented on my Tiffany's ring. "Who gave you that?" she chided. "No one," I pathetically replied. "I bet you and your girlfriend have the same exact ring." Something like that, Kim.
Terrible session in philosophy. Charles, as I've learned his name is, may possibly be the stupidest living being I have ever encountered, next to cats and single-celled amoebas. They say there is no such thing as a stupid question, but I believe that dear Charles could very well prove that theory false. His hand is constantly waving in the air, as though he suddenly remembered to ask Oz for a brain. My instructor (Horray for TAs...natch) made some quip about how he thinks rights are overrated; he feels like Americans look at rights as some superpower and demonstrated this principle comically. Charles raises his hand and says (I wrote it down in my notebook, it was so humorously preposterous), "Have you ever read the Declaration of Indepenence, Mr. Berntsen?" "Yes, I have; actually, I had to memorize it in school about eight times, I think." "Well, in there, it says something about how we as Americans have certain unalienable rights. That's why we have laws." A deadpan expression washes over everyone's face. Me and this girl Stacy, who occupies most of my class time poking fun at this ratfaced po-dunk imbecile, just sort of look at each other in a "Did that really happen?" grimace. I need to get out of here.
Theo and I saw "Mostly Martha," a German film about a (beautiful) chef's tribulations with her newly-orphaned neice, love life, career foibles, and middle-aged status on Saturday at CineArts. It was quite enjoyable. Even my aunt (who obviously didn't see the film with us) loved it, and she has a very well-trained cultural palate.
Sunday, my beautiful sister "confirmed her faith" at a church my family never goes to anymore (they've switched to a more contemporary church in Algonquin, as opposed to our original decaying middleground Lutheran church). Gratuituous food and family followed, to my dismay.
"How's school, Brian?"
"Oh, it's...interesting. It's not what I expected."
I had to take ten-minute breaks from the incessant fibbing, my head hurt so badly.
My "sister" (neighbour I practically grew up with and lived under the same roof as) commented on my Tiffany's ring. "Who gave you that?" she chided. "No one," I pathetically replied. "I bet you and your girlfriend have the same exact ring." Something like that, Kim.
Terrible session in philosophy. Charles, as I've learned his name is, may possibly be the stupidest living being I have ever encountered, next to cats and single-celled amoebas. They say there is no such thing as a stupid question, but I believe that dear Charles could very well prove that theory false. His hand is constantly waving in the air, as though he suddenly remembered to ask Oz for a brain. My instructor (Horray for TAs...natch) made some quip about how he thinks rights are overrated; he feels like Americans look at rights as some superpower and demonstrated this principle comically. Charles raises his hand and says (I wrote it down in my notebook, it was so humorously preposterous), "Have you ever read the Declaration of Indepenence, Mr. Berntsen?" "Yes, I have; actually, I had to memorize it in school about eight times, I think." "Well, in there, it says something about how we as Americans have certain unalienable rights. That's why we have laws." A deadpan expression washes over everyone's face. Me and this girl Stacy, who occupies most of my class time poking fun at this ratfaced po-dunk imbecile, just sort of look at each other in a "Did that really happen?" grimace. I need to get out of here.
Saturday, September 21, 2002
The trip home was quite eventful, in a decidedly negative way.
I was pulled over by a police officer unseen for going 86 MPH in a 65 speed zone. Oops.
Fortunately, that speeding and a newfound route allowed Erin, Jen and I to arrive home in about six hours. Which is pretty good considering the police incident and whatnot.
Theo and I watched "Breakfast at Tiffany's" last night. I'm really preoccupied with the inflection people had in their voices in films made before 1960. What is it about their tone of speech ? It's almost British. I do wish people spoke like that again. somewhere in the world. I want to study this in college--early 20th century accents. Audrey Hepburn is gorgeous.
I was pulled over by a police officer unseen for going 86 MPH in a 65 speed zone. Oops.
Fortunately, that speeding and a newfound route allowed Erin, Jen and I to arrive home in about six hours. Which is pretty good considering the police incident and whatnot.
Theo and I watched "Breakfast at Tiffany's" last night. I'm really preoccupied with the inflection people had in their voices in films made before 1960. What is it about their tone of speech ? It's almost British. I do wish people spoke like that again. somewhere in the world. I want to study this in college--early 20th century accents. Audrey Hepburn is gorgeous.
Friday, September 20, 2002
I'll be home-bound in about three hours' time, after eating, packing, and taking an Astronomy test. I'm incredibly pleased to finally be returning home.
A disturbing, disgusting revelation has been made about the communal use of my computer. I really shouldn't talk about it. It's sick. Very sick.
My sister has a date tonight with a short, pudgy annoying boy I knew from show choir. I don't know why; she's absolutely gorgeous and can do so much better. What's wrong with Pat, Liz? He's much more interesting and fun. As Erin said, "Everyone establishes their legacy freshman year. If she stars dating losers now, she'll never have a date with a ho popular boy." So true.
Erin's always angry with me. I think it's displaced resentment towards me for her always having to "babysit" me. Oh well. Only a few more months left, Erin. Then you're free.
A disturbing, disgusting revelation has been made about the communal use of my computer. I really shouldn't talk about it. It's sick. Very sick.
My sister has a date tonight with a short, pudgy annoying boy I knew from show choir. I don't know why; she's absolutely gorgeous and can do so much better. What's wrong with Pat, Liz? He's much more interesting and fun. As Erin said, "Everyone establishes their legacy freshman year. If she stars dating losers now, she'll never have a date with a ho popular boy." So true.
Erin's always angry with me. I think it's displaced resentment towards me for her always having to "babysit" me. Oh well. Only a few more months left, Erin. Then you're free.
Thursday, September 19, 2002
Well, now my blog is almost back to normal--I just have to add a few links and things, and we'll be back on track. Thanks to Theo for his help.
I think I really am just a spoiled five-year-old, who doesn't want to share.
I walked in to my room after taking a shower. Christian's sitting there, listening to his Aerosmith CD (...), reading my copy of David Sedaris' "Me talk pretty one day." "One of my friends told me this was a really good book," he said. Taking my books without permission now? I'm so confused. Then, his CD kept skipping (like always) in my computer's CD player (Sidebar: My CDs never skip when I'm listening to them...his always do), and he says, "We HAVE to do something about this CD player." As if he was the one who shelled out $1200 for the computer! As if he and I are a married couple, and the dishwasher's on the fritz, he criticises MY computer's ability to play his CDs and expects me to do something about it. If I wasn't so shocked/pissed/appalled/nauseous, I would have said, "Well, if you have a problem with MY computer, why don't you bring a stereo down, or better yet, your OWN computer?" But I just said, "Hmm."
Should I be upset about this or not? I don't know.
Trip home in T minus 27 hours.
I think I really am just a spoiled five-year-old, who doesn't want to share.
I walked in to my room after taking a shower. Christian's sitting there, listening to his Aerosmith CD (...), reading my copy of David Sedaris' "Me talk pretty one day." "One of my friends told me this was a really good book," he said. Taking my books without permission now? I'm so confused. Then, his CD kept skipping (like always) in my computer's CD player (Sidebar: My CDs never skip when I'm listening to them...his always do), and he says, "We HAVE to do something about this CD player." As if he was the one who shelled out $1200 for the computer! As if he and I are a married couple, and the dishwasher's on the fritz, he criticises MY computer's ability to play his CDs and expects me to do something about it. If I wasn't so shocked/pissed/appalled/nauseous, I would have said, "Well, if you have a problem with MY computer, why don't you bring a stereo down, or better yet, your OWN computer?" But I just said, "Hmm."
Should I be upset about this or not? I don't know.
Trip home in T minus 27 hours.
Wednesday, September 18, 2002
Tuesday, September 17, 2002
Monday, September 16, 2002
Anyways...
My weekend was terrible. I'm ill and I didn't do much.
I've found that sleep is my only sanctuary away from this bordello of idiocy. I my dreams, I can go to places unknown and places familiar; I can meet new people and visit with dear comrades. Unfortunately, Christian shifts so bloody much in his bed. His inhales are whistling, smacking upsweeps of breath; his exhales are frustrated sighs. Always.
More about Christian.
When we first met, he laid down two rules: We weren't supposed to have sex on each other's beds (I'm not from Missouri so I couldn't understand how that would even be a plausible activity), and that we were supposed to ask before we used each other's belongings. Well, yesterday, in my absence, Christ himself watched my copy of Face/Off on my DVD player and took some of my cold/flu medicine. I cannot deal with this. AND THEN...the old issues, like cutting some belt up and then leaving the refuse on my bed, and putting his things on my chair, while he has a perfectly good, perfectly empty chair mere centimeters away from him. Are my qualms unreasonable, prissy, or a balanced combination of the latter and former?
I deleted my post about Nick's disgust with my sex life. It wasn't very well written.
My weekend was terrible. I'm ill and I didn't do much.
I've found that sleep is my only sanctuary away from this bordello of idiocy. I my dreams, I can go to places unknown and places familiar; I can meet new people and visit with dear comrades. Unfortunately, Christian shifts so bloody much in his bed. His inhales are whistling, smacking upsweeps of breath; his exhales are frustrated sighs. Always.
More about Christian.
When we first met, he laid down two rules: We weren't supposed to have sex on each other's beds (I'm not from Missouri so I couldn't understand how that would even be a plausible activity), and that we were supposed to ask before we used each other's belongings. Well, yesterday, in my absence, Christ himself watched my copy of Face/Off on my DVD player and took some of my cold/flu medicine. I cannot deal with this. AND THEN...the old issues, like cutting some belt up and then leaving the refuse on my bed, and putting his things on my chair, while he has a perfectly good, perfectly empty chair mere centimeters away from him. Are my qualms unreasonable, prissy, or a balanced combination of the latter and former?
I deleted my post about Nick's disgust with my sex life. It wasn't very well written.
Friday, September 13, 2002
Thursday, September 12, 2002
Last night was interesting.
Erin and I, along with some other people who are Erin's friends but not really mine (surprise, surprise) went to what we thought was going to be a September 11 vigil. Instead, to my great excitement, it was a "NO more victims" protest. It was very fun--as if we all hopped into some Missouri-bred time machine and hopped back in time to the Vietnam era. In fact, one girl, Sarah, stormed away after approximately .5 seconds, hissing, "What the fuck is this? Vietnam again?" Whatever. I liked it, and will be joining some liberal left-wing protest organizations in the next few weeks. If my work schedule will allow.
I hate having a job.
I think Christian reads this for some reason. I get paranoid like that. It would make sense though. He's been very withdrawn towards me lately. I don't know what's going on.
I should find out today or tomorrow if I'm allowed to be a real college student, i.e. live on campus.
Prognosis:
Chance I'll get on campus housing this week: 4%
Chance I won't: 95%
Chance I'll be able to transfer out of here within the next 2 hours: <1%
Chance my life sucks: 102.79%
Erin and I, along with some other people who are Erin's friends but not really mine (surprise, surprise) went to what we thought was going to be a September 11 vigil. Instead, to my great excitement, it was a "NO more victims" protest. It was very fun--as if we all hopped into some Missouri-bred time machine and hopped back in time to the Vietnam era. In fact, one girl, Sarah, stormed away after approximately .5 seconds, hissing, "What the fuck is this? Vietnam again?" Whatever. I liked it, and will be joining some liberal left-wing protest organizations in the next few weeks. If my work schedule will allow.
I hate having a job.
I think Christian reads this for some reason. I get paranoid like that. It would make sense though. He's been very withdrawn towards me lately. I don't know what's going on.
I should find out today or tomorrow if I'm allowed to be a real college student, i.e. live on campus.
Prognosis:
Chance I'll get on campus housing this week: 4%
Chance I won't: 95%
Chance I'll be able to transfer out of here within the next 2 hours: <1%
Chance my life sucks: 102.79%
Wednesday, September 11, 2002
Yesterday, I THOUGHT I posted a long and detailed report about how depressed I am here, and how I feel guilty that everyone else loves their college experience thus far and how I fear looking like an unsatisfiable twat. Unfortunately, it clearly didn't make it up here. So, enough of that. I'm not really in the mood right to talk about just how depressed I am.
Welcome to Republican country, everybody. There are senior citizen men dressed in three-piece suits walking around campus everywhere (at leasttwenty of them) handing out lime green-bound copies of the New Testament. Yesterday, Sarah was asked by someone if she knew where Jesus was. (My reply would have been, "I have him locked in my wine cellar...DUH.") In my seemingly-liberal philo. class today, this HICK HICK HICK who happens to live in my hall said that he's disappointed with "liberal media" and their "misguided" image of George W. Bush. When I said under my breath (but still very audible) "Yes, that's because members of this so-called liberal media are actually intelligent," I was the proud recipient of several dirty, shocked looks. Horray for supporting me beliefs.
Happy September 11th everyone!
(Does it not seem like today is treated by many as a pseudo-Halloween or New Year's Eve? Everyone's wearing their "I'm patri-like-otic" costumes, asking everyone what they're doing tonight to "celebrate," and paying close attention to what time it is.)
(Didn't mean to be insensitive.)
Welcome to Republican country, everybody. There are senior citizen men dressed in three-piece suits walking around campus everywhere (at leasttwenty of them) handing out lime green-bound copies of the New Testament. Yesterday, Sarah was asked by someone if she knew where Jesus was. (My reply would have been, "I have him locked in my wine cellar...DUH.") In my seemingly-liberal philo. class today, this HICK HICK HICK who happens to live in my hall said that he's disappointed with "liberal media" and their "misguided" image of George W. Bush. When I said under my breath (but still very audible) "Yes, that's because members of this so-called liberal media are actually intelligent," I was the proud recipient of several dirty, shocked looks. Horray for supporting me beliefs.
Happy September 11th everyone!
(Does it not seem like today is treated by many as a pseudo-Halloween or New Year's Eve? Everyone's wearing their "I'm patri-like-otic" costumes, asking everyone what they're doing tonight to "celebrate," and paying close attention to what time it is.)
(Didn't mean to be insensitive.)
Monday, September 09, 2002
Hello all--it certainly has been a pleasant break from recording the happenstances of my life here.
I spent the weekend at home--well, not really at home, but within a fifty-mile radius of home. My father and I had a long conversation when I returned home Friday night (After seeing Cyndi at Denny's with Erin), I picked out new glasses on saturday (black plastic-framed Armani specks), went to the bank, and purchased a pair of jeans from Diesel (they're really tight and have a zipper that's literally as long as the width of a Post-It note) with Theo.
Theo and I saw "Possession" on Saturday night. It wasn't very pleasant. It was a run-of-the-mill big-name production studio big-name celebrity film masquerading as a chic arthouse word-of-mouth flick. Theo was disappointed that I was disappointed, but we made amends later that evening. Let's just say--wow.
Sunday, I went to brunch with my nuclear family and grandparents and attempted to find a pair of shoes at two seperate malls, with no luck.
But, as the charcoal clouds parted, I found a beautiful pair of Diesel semi-formal tan shoes today with Sarah. Sarah is a fellow Mizzoulian who hails from a bumble-f town in Oklahoma. She's great.
Tonight, I'm going to the National Youth Rights Association meeting, hosted by none other than ambiguous brad, and later seeing "The Good Girl." No, I don't see homework fitting into that schedule. Which is probably not good, since I performed very poorly on my astronomy quiz on Friday--as did the rest of the class.
That's all.
I spent the weekend at home--well, not really at home, but within a fifty-mile radius of home. My father and I had a long conversation when I returned home Friday night (After seeing Cyndi at Denny's with Erin), I picked out new glasses on saturday (black plastic-framed Armani specks), went to the bank, and purchased a pair of jeans from Diesel (they're really tight and have a zipper that's literally as long as the width of a Post-It note) with Theo.
Theo and I saw "Possession" on Saturday night. It wasn't very pleasant. It was a run-of-the-mill big-name production studio big-name celebrity film masquerading as a chic arthouse word-of-mouth flick. Theo was disappointed that I was disappointed, but we made amends later that evening. Let's just say--wow.
Sunday, I went to brunch with my nuclear family and grandparents and attempted to find a pair of shoes at two seperate malls, with no luck.
But, as the charcoal clouds parted, I found a beautiful pair of Diesel semi-formal tan shoes today with Sarah. Sarah is a fellow Mizzoulian who hails from a bumble-f town in Oklahoma. She's great.
Tonight, I'm going to the National Youth Rights Association meeting, hosted by none other than ambiguous brad, and later seeing "The Good Girl." No, I don't see homework fitting into that schedule. Which is probably not good, since I performed very poorly on my astronomy quiz on Friday--as did the rest of the class.
That's all.
Wednesday, September 04, 2002
Tuesday, September 03, 2002
Final straw--he lays his DIRTY fucking army clothing on my BED. GET OUT OF MY GODDAMN ROOM.
I'm really really TRYING to get along. I've been good these past two weeks. But, as the slogan for the show goes, "...when people stop being nice, and start getting real."
I don't know how to be real without being a nuclear-warhead of a manbitch.
I'm really really TRYING to get along. I've been good these past two weeks. But, as the slogan for the show goes, "...when people stop being nice, and start getting real."
I don't know how to be real without being a nuclear-warhead of a manbitch.
Alright. First, one of three dryers ate seventy-five of my cents in the sketchy laundry room at Hillcrest. Meaning, there's only one real working dryer in this godforsaken building. What.
While at work today, a woman from some Christian bible worship group at Mizzou talked my ear off at the register and wants me to go to her meetings. I can't just say no. Not that I'm going or anything, but still.
Speaking of...how does one go about telling one's roommate to not walk on my carpet, sit in my chair, spill on MY DESK, use my computer, and the like?
Oy. Speaking of...
While at work today, a woman from some Christian bible worship group at Mizzou talked my ear off at the register and wants me to go to her meetings. I can't just say no. Not that I'm going or anything, but still.
Speaking of...how does one go about telling one's roommate to not walk on my carpet, sit in my chair, spill on MY DESK, use my computer, and the like?
Oy. Speaking of...
Monday, September 02, 2002
Her post to my guestbook reminded me of a high point of my weekend--Kim called me. I was pleased to take a break from the computer and "chat" with her about her exploits at ND. Apparently, she's inviting Condoleeza Rice to speak at Notre Dame this year, in honour of ND's anniversary of women present at the university. What, not Britney Spears or Anna Nicole?
So, the weekend unfortunately came to a close. I just dropped Theo off at the "train station" in St. Louis. Get this--their old, beautiful, expansive train station has been turned into a shopping center, and their current "station" is nothing more than a 20x20' closet.
We had a pretty good weekend. While Erin had "the worst night," Theo and I enjoyed each other's presence(s) on the trip from St. Louis to Columbia. Saturday, I napped, to Theo's dismay, and we later walked around town and saw "Simone," the new Al Pacino film. Very un-Al. Sunday, more walking around town ensued and a LOT more "Donkey Kong" was played, until the late hours of the night. Today, we drove back to Nelly's hometown, and stopped at a dilapidated discount stip mall on the way, to pick me up some girl's jeans (my first pair! I'm a four!) and other assorted inexpensive things.
I really miss him, but am pleased to know I'll be home again in four days.
Otherwise, nothing to report.
Oh, except this--I despise driving in Missouri. It's really unsafe, and that's a minor, MINOR reason for me not staying here. Every time, it seems, I drive on MO's main expressway, 70, there is a horrific accident. On Friday, Erin, Nice 'n Cool and I witnessed a muilt-vehicle collision which involved trucks beng ripped apart, fire, smoke and more smoke. Today, I was mere moments away from involving myself in a horrific accient on the same deadly street--about 100 yards in front of me, I could see billowing smoke everywhere. As I approached and was stopped by this fire, I saw it was a pickup truck, which was still very very ignited. More waiting. It was a long day.
Oh, and I didn't get Hero in the musical here. Ironically enough, I was cast as a Plebian slave--I just couldn't take the irony, of being this director's slave and kissing ass to further establish myself in Mizzou's weak, WEAK theatre department. (Pronounced "they-ate-r") So, I dropped. The production will be horrible anyways, inevetably.
We had a pretty good weekend. While Erin had "the worst night," Theo and I enjoyed each other's presence(s) on the trip from St. Louis to Columbia. Saturday, I napped, to Theo's dismay, and we later walked around town and saw "Simone," the new Al Pacino film. Very un-Al. Sunday, more walking around town ensued and a LOT more "Donkey Kong" was played, until the late hours of the night. Today, we drove back to Nelly's hometown, and stopped at a dilapidated discount stip mall on the way, to pick me up some girl's jeans (my first pair! I'm a four!) and other assorted inexpensive things.
I really miss him, but am pleased to know I'll be home again in four days.
Otherwise, nothing to report.
Oh, except this--I despise driving in Missouri. It's really unsafe, and that's a minor, MINOR reason for me not staying here. Every time, it seems, I drive on MO's main expressway, 70, there is a horrific accident. On Friday, Erin, Nice 'n Cool and I witnessed a muilt-vehicle collision which involved trucks beng ripped apart, fire, smoke and more smoke. Today, I was mere moments away from involving myself in a horrific accient on the same deadly street--about 100 yards in front of me, I could see billowing smoke everywhere. As I approached and was stopped by this fire, I saw it was a pickup truck, which was still very very ignited. More waiting. It was a long day.
Oh, and I didn't get Hero in the musical here. Ironically enough, I was cast as a Plebian slave--I just couldn't take the irony, of being this director's slave and kissing ass to further establish myself in Mizzou's weak, WEAK theatre department. (Pronounced "they-ate-r") So, I dropped. The production will be horrible anyways, inevetably.