Snake Charmer/Wish I Could Give You More Than I Have

Sam's birthday is Sunday. He's doing well in math, but is disappointed because his snake won't move like the snake in Harry Potter; he wanted a pet to talk to him, not just be sleepy all the time.

I think he'll like his presents. Meghan made me promise to be home for her birthday. I'll have to skip philosophy, but I'm sure I can make the professor understand. If I get home in time, I can make Sam a birthday cake. A dirt cake should be simple enough, and he'll like the gummy worms. Plus everyone loves dirt cake. It's a matter of getting Molly to wash the flowerpots and buy the ingredients before I get there.

The day after my birthday, Gaimen is speaking at University of Chicago. If I wouldn't have to skip two classes and a workshop to get up there, I'd be all the fuck about hitting my favorite noodle place and seeing the lecture. Readings, an interview, $15, I could sleep at Aunt Sallie's in Evanston and wake early, driving back in time for my 12:30 philo. Grueling, but do-able. I must be insane for seriously contemplating this.

Mom seems, at least temporarily, fine with the lease, fine with the sublease/transfer possibilities. All is good on that front. It is an idea to be rationally considered. I give this university summer session and next fall (applications due something like November). If nothing works for me, bright lights, big city (if, of course, I get accepted). As much as I hated Stanford, I loved that week in Berkeley. Hard to get into... but impossible?

On the not merely academic side: What are your thoughts on feminist lit crit in the fresh Bay Area air, walks in Muir woods, working at that overpriced restaurant with the great sandwiches at Stinton Beach? I will embrace my stereotype and learn to backpack for days at a time, live in a co-op and go Marxist-Dworkin crazy. Or maybe be a Julie-recluse and be solitary, scholarly for a while. That highway from Muir Woods to Stinton Beach was ridiculous, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen- you ride the edge of the ridge forever, curving like my hair, and it's death-defying, and then there is the town and the jewel-blue bay and it's so unexpected you float with delight. Defy Magnetic Fields and never come back from San Francisco.

But I musn't be romantic. I must choose what to do logically, soberly. But I am restless, and for the first time in months, excited by the future.

Snake Charmer/Wish I Could Give You More Than I Have

Sam's birthday is Sunday. He's doing well in math, but is disappointed because his snake won't move like the snake in Harry Potter; he wanted a pet to talk to him, not just be sleepy all the time.

I think he'll like his presents. Meghan made me promise to be home for her birthday. I'll have to skip philosophy, but I'm sure I can make the professor understand. If I get home in time, I can make Sam a birthday cake. A dirt cake should be simple enough, and he'll like the gummy worms. Plus everyone loves dirt cake. It's a matter of getting Molly to wash the flowerpots and buy the ingredients before I get there.

The day after my birthday, Gaimen is speaking at University of Chicago. If I wouldn't have to skip two classes and a workshop to get up there, I'd be all the fuck about hitting my favorite noodle place and seeing the lecture. Readings, an interview, $15, I could sleep at Aunt Sallie's in Evanston and wake early, driving back in time for my 12:30 philo. Grueling, but do-able. I must be insane for seriously contemplating this.

Mom seems, at least temporarily, fine with the lease, fine with the sublease/transfer possibilities. All is good on that front. It is an idea to be rationally considered. I give this university summer session and next fall (applications due something like November). If nothing works for me, bright lights, big city (if, of course, I get accepted). As much as I hated Stanford, I loved that week in Berkeley. Hard to get into... but impossible?

On the not merely academic side: What are your thoughts on feminist lit crit in the fresh Bay Area air, walks in Muir woods, working at that overpriced restaurant with the great sandwiches at Stinton Beach? I will embrace my stereotype and learn to backpack for days at a time, live in a co-op and go Marxist-Dworkin crazy. Or maybe be a Julie-recluse and be solitary, scholarly for a while. That highway from Muir Woods to Stinton Beach was ridiculous, the most beautiful thing I've ever seen- you ride the edge of the ridge forever, curving like my hair, and it's death-defying, and then there is the town and the jewel-blue bay and it's so unexpected you float with delight. Defy Magnetic Fields and never come back from San Francisco.

But I musn't be romantic. I must choose what to do logically, soberly. But I am restless, and for the first time in months, excited by the future.

(no subject)

All moody for no good reason. I can feel myself being irritating. I've finished all my tests and am still anxious. If I'm wierd, as I have been being, my bad.

In good news, I aced that philo midterm hard. I was rushed on the essays, but still, I think I did well.

I need to find the energy to be nicer to people.

Have been trying to get to sleep, but can't. Just lay around thinking nothing good. Now I'm just rocking out to my new Bowie album, Never Let Me Down. Ho hum.

*edit*

Have discovered incredible lyrics on this CD!

"Glass Spider"

Up until one century ago there lived,
In the Zi Duang province of eastern country
A glass-like spider
Having devoured its prey it would drape the skeletons
over its web
In weeks creating a macabre
Shrine of remains
Its web was also unique in that it had many layers
Like floors in a building

At the top of this palace-like place, assembled with
almost apparent
Care, were tiny, shining objects, glass, beads, dew-drops
One could almost call it an altar
When the breeze blew
thru this construction
It produced sounds of wailing, crying
Tiny wails, tiny cries

The baby spiders would get scared and search frantically for their mother.
But the Glass Spider would have long gone, having known that the babies
Would survive somehow
on their own.
Oh-The Glass Spider had blue eyes almost like-a human's.
They shed tears at the wintered turn of the centuries.

What, David Bowie? Awesomeness is what.

(no subject)

All moody for no good reason. I can feel myself being irritating. I've finished all my tests and am still anxious. If I'm wierd, as I have been being, my bad.

In good news, I aced that philo midterm hard. I was rushed on the essays, but still, I think I did well.

I need to find the energy to be nicer to people.

Have been trying to get to sleep, but can't. Just lay around thinking nothing good. Now I'm just rocking out to my new Bowie album, Never Let Me Down. Ho hum.

*edit*

Have discovered incredible lyrics on this CD!

"Glass Spider"

Up until one century ago there lived,
In the Zi Duang province of eastern country
A glass-like spider
Having devoured its prey it would drape the skeletons
over its web
In weeks creating a macabre
Shrine of remains
Its web was also unique in that it had many layers
Like floors in a building

At the top of this palace-like place, assembled with
almost apparent
Care, were tiny, shining objects, glass, beads, dew-drops
One could almost call it an altar
When the breeze blew
thru this construction
It produced sounds of wailing, crying
Tiny wails, tiny cries

The baby spiders would get scared and search frantically for their mother.
But the Glass Spider would have long gone, having known that the babies
Would survive somehow
on their own.
Oh-The Glass Spider had blue eyes almost like-a human's.
They shed tears at the wintered turn of the centuries.

What, David Bowie? Awesomeness is what.