I just... I have this story. I want to tell my story

I can't remember whether or not Michael gets mad about posting between his end of the year posts. I've decided to post anyway, since I've only posted once this month.

So I was considering posting about some other crap that's been happening lately, but it basically revolves around me not having enough money and/or time for certain things and being bad at other things. It's not really that interesting, and I have no real spin on it to make it so.

I went with the Comstocks and Saralyn to see the remake of The Day the Earth Stood Still today, and I think it is a perfect example for my argument in favor of the validity of remakes. It got panned in reviews, but I think the fact that one of the reviews includes the phrase "Dumber and dorkier than the dumbest dork you know" sort of invalidates anything the author might say about, well, anything. It contained many nods to the original, but clearly had its own artistic vision and message. An new message is probably the most valid reason for remaking anything. Using an concept to do something new, or making the original message more accessable to a modern audience both give the movie industry a real and human purpose. The movie purist's prejudiced hatred of remakes has always baffled me, because a remake can still be it's own movie. Naturally, there are exceptions, such as Steve Martin's attempt at the Pink Panther series, which is less "Hey, I like that idea, but let's run with that concept and do something new," and more "I loved those movies! I wish I were in them! Wait, I'm rich, I'll do it myself!" I've sort of got away from my point, though, which is that the new TDtESS clearly keeps the spirit of the original, and even Dave and Jonah Comstock, both of whom came in expecting and ready to hate the movie utterly, walked out pleasantly surprised, and that has to count for something.

Oh, as an after thought, Keanu Reeves was, as usual, Keanu Reeves, but type casting really works for him, and I still stand by my argument that he was the perfect villain in Much Ado About Nothing. No one cares that other people are typecast for their talent in a particularly intense or energetic role that is essentially them playing themselves, but everyone says Keanu Reeves can't act just because he's always cast as these stoic, more or less emotionless characters. It works. Sometimes that's what you need, and a number of actors get flack for what is more or less the responsibility of directors, casting or otherwise.

Friends. Couple. Married. Scientist. Rocks.

In Which There Are Words

Alright Compendium, I need to get this out. I'm told by Nate and Marten that Michael "considered it a snub" when I Facebook-replied that I wasn't coming to Sunday's con-thing to which I wasn't invited. That's great. Imagine how I felt when I had to find out from Facebook's Newsfeed of all things that all of you were getting together to do the things that we always do when we're home and no one had invited me or even told me about it. Talk about snubbed. The defense I heard was that everyone knew I was going to be in Bloomington and therefore didn't bother to invite me, but I think that's bullshit. Every time we do these things we first try to find a time that works for everyone, and we do that by telling everyone what's going on. And even if that wasn't possible, if I'd known the slightest thing about this gathering I might have amended my plans so I could be around. I wasn't even in Bloomington at that point, I was in Indy, and if I'd been asked I would have seriously considered cutting my time with Saralyn a little short to come down. I've done it before, because believe it or not, spending time with you guys over break is important to me almost as much as seeing Saralyn is.
Perhaps I would be more understanding, but to tell you the truth the treatment I got the last time we got together, especially from Michael, was enough to make me expect the worst. There is a point where a joke stops being funny and fake-mean becomes so regular and relentless it's indistinguishable from real-mean, and y'all found it at Thanksgiving, and to follow it up with this makes me wonder if you're all just so insensitive that you're oblivious or if I did something to make you really dislike me. Either way, I'm done being Compendium's punching bag. If you all want me on the blog, and as your friend, start treating me like one. Otherwise, I'm happy to leave.
This doesn't apply to all of you equally, so if you think I'm being too harsh to you you're probably right and I apologize. But it's not all Michael, or I wouldn't have posted it on the blog.

Friends. Couple. Married. Scientist. Rocks.

It is better that you were too stupid to carry out instructions

When they said car bull shit comes in threes, they lied.

I'm home, finally. I assure you, getting here was no small effort. So you remember how I crashed my girlfriend's car? Okay, so maybe you don't since I didn't post about that. So, the weekend before thanksgiving break, I was taking Claire to my house to meet the folks and have a relaxing weekend sort of thing. Unfortunately, Columbus is a shitty place to drive, and I rear-ended an SUV with her Ford Contour while trying to change lanes. Now the court is trying to pin a speeding ticket to me, but that's another pile of crap that I'll get to later. Claire was awesome about it, and did not throw me off the bridge or anything. Wait, I should tell you why I was driving Claire's car to my house: my clutch cable snapped, and I couldn't fix it without my dad's help. The plan was to bring my dad back with us, we'd fix my car, he'd drive my car home, and Claire would drop me off at my house on her way to Chicago to do Thanksgiving with one of her EKO sisters. Anyway, I totaled her car and she didn't kill me, which probably by itself makes her the best girlfriend ever. So we waited at an awesome bar and billiards place and got an inspiring speech about how lucky I am from an anonymous black woman ("See? Your woman happy, you should be happy") while we waited for a friend to pick us up and bring us back to Wooster. I was then sentenced to be the official EKO chaufer, a fair ruling which mostly entailed driving Claire and Tori around, usually to get starbucks.
Because we are busy college students, we never had time to go back to Columbus and take everything out of Claire's car. I suggested that Claire fly out of Indianapolis to go home to California, and we could just stop at Columbus on the way. We tried to leave on Thursday, but not 20 miles out of Wooster do we get stopped for speeding. I was driving 67 in a 60 zone, but luckily, the cop was charmed by my car. He said he only really stopped us because the car was wiggling back and forth, and I told him that it could be it was so full of stuff. He just gave us a warning, and we were on a merry way. For about 5 miles. At that point, my tire went flat. I was able to change the tire fairly quickly on account of being a manly and capable individual. Unfortunately, the spare was also flat. Crazy, right? I mean, what good is a spare tire if there's no air in it? Anyway, I called AAA and got towed to all manner of(read: 2) places to get the right size tire, and, about 6 hours after we left, we were back in Wooster. We decided to try again the next morning, rather than pull in to Indy at midnight.
The drive to Columbus went surprisingly well, and we were transfering stuff from Claire's totaled car to my not-totaled car when Claire asked me to ask them about removing the after-market stereo and sub-woofer(heh, 'woofer'). I walked from the car to the body shop and asked, and the ford guy asked if it was authorized by the insurance company, so I walked from the body shop and asked Claire. She said yes, so I walked back to the body shop and the ford guy said what's the insurance agent's name? Since they could get in trouble for letting us take it, he had to double check, so we called, were put on hold, told to call this person, who told us to call someone else, were put on hold again, and had to call Claire's mother before we determined we could take the stereo. This whole thing puts us back by about 2 hours, and my car was way low to the ground again, but we made it anyway.

In my next post, since I am being called to rake leaves: An invalid ticket, Jury Duty, Auditions, ACTF and possibly more.

Friends. Couple. Married. Scientist. Rocks.

In which Jonah ponders heroic employment

So maybe someone can help me with this. It's a Heroes question. It occurred to me while Nate and Petey Petrelli were trekking through the jungle and Peter's all like "You're a senator, I'm a nurse" and I thought, 'You haven't been a nurse since the first season.' And then it occurred to me. No one in Heroes has a real job at this point except Nathan. What do the rest of them do for money? Hiro and Ando walked out on their job in the first season and haven't been back since, Peter just putzes around, even Suresh quit his taxi driver job. Granted now most of them either work for the company or for Pinehurst but honestly, those are companies that don't actually do anything - at least not anything that brings in an income. And they probably cost a lot to run. And the guy who could turn things to gold is dead. In this economy, how do the Heroes stay in business? And has Claire like quit school now? Did she graduate? I guess the point I'm trying to make here is that the show started out about normal people who had superpowers, but now they're just people who have superpowers. They're mysteriously jobless (or independently wealthy) and spend all their time fighting evil, just like regular superheroes.

Friends. Couple. Married. Scientist. Rocks.

YOU DRUNK I'M THINK, DON'T YOU?

As promised, my entry of debauchery.

(Return of the Jedi is on right now. It just got to the part where Leia slowly sees the Ewok.)

So, I wasn't going to do anything for Halloween, but I got talked into going to a Halloween party. I went as a person who didn't know she was going to a Halloween party until about an hour before she left. It was okay, except that drunk people kept harassing me to hit on a guy, which was uncomfortable. I didn't do it. They did persuade me to stay longer than I wanted to, but Kimberly rescued me by taking me back to play with the cat.

But the weekend after Thanksgiving I went to a party which was actually fun, and the fact that I enjoyed this more just shows you how dorky I really am: it was an Irish dancing potluck dinner. I brought fruit. And then we (a bunch of the first years and Amity) learned some Irish dancing. Two of the first year girls had taken lessons, and they taught us some Irish group dances, which was really fun, especially after I realized that it was basically how they dance for fun in Jane Austen. I'm pretty sure that they actually often did Irish dances back then. Amity and I started quoting Pride and Prejudice, because we were the most awesome people there. I got along better with the other first years than I usually do-- it's not that they're not perfectly nice, but they don't as a rule quite share my sense of humor, I guess-- so I was glad Amity was there. I totally want to do it again.

A couple of weeks ago, I had just turned in my first paper, and I felt like being social. So I went out to the party for a guy I'd just met passing his special fields. A whole ton of people were there. I let Amity buy my first drink, and then I unwisely let it slip that I'd never really been drunk before. They very insidiously set about remedying that. I had about two and a half rum and cokes and a pretty large shot of whiskey. Everything went swimmingly until about twenty minutes after the shot. I wasn't drunk enough to forget the evening, but I did the next morning look back on it thinking, "Did I really say that?" I tentatively agreed to learn belly dancing and kickboxing, and I quoted Keats, and I flirted a lot more openly than I ever have before. About twenty minutes after the shot of whiskey, I kept going, "This is so weird," because it felt like I had been spinning around in circles for a long time when I had not been doing so at all. I was taken to a second location by my friend Ann to get food. I had fries and ate them, I was repeatedly told, very slowly. Then Ann took me home. I turned on the TV and fell asleep on the couch.

I have since been apologized to by several people for not going to the diner with me and giving me a shot without realizing that I have, like, zero tolerance. It's weird because I think I drank more the time I ended up just tipsy, but I guess I had more to eat then. Anyway, the next morning I had my first hangover, which consisted mostly of just feeling vaguely naseous and fatigued all day.

But I managed to get over it in time to bake Arley a cake for her birthday. She makes cake for everyone, so I thought it would be nice to overcome my fear of the oven and make a cake for her; it turned out really well, I think. Everyone who ate it liked it.

Wow. This entry contains mention of Irish dancing, drunkenness, and cake. That's quite a range.

I might as well add that I accomplished the following non-academic goals over break

1) saw all the people I wanted to see
2) saw all the movies I wanted to see
3) ate at Steak'n'Shake
4) had meatloaf
5) found midrise jeans in the juniors section (Miracle!)
6) got along with my family
7) went to church

It was a break well-spent.

Friends. Couple. Married. Scientist. Rocks.

Cil oisel chantent

I have been meaning to post all break, but I apparently just suck at doing anything that is not my Prosem report or translating Old French. ALL OF THE OLD FRENCH OMG.

But I had a great, albeit short, break, and I have new clothes and a new coat and things to post about as soon as I get back from shopping at Meijer. I'm actually in the computer lab of the English Building right now, where I have been doing group Old French translation. I had to use my key to get into the building for the first time, which made me feel important (I have keys becaue I am faculty!). Also, it is snowing.

More to follow in a post which will include drunken exploits.

Friends. Couple. Married. Scientist. Rocks.

In which Jonah is writing a paper, if it takes all day

I have absolutely nothing (interesting) to blog about.
I wrote a Junior I.S. It's about Poetry and Prose and Donald Barthelme and John Ashbery and Robert Hass and it's 27 pages long, and I wrote the last 12 of those in one night which was, consequently, my first legit all-nighter of the year.
I definitely learned some lessons for the next time around (I have to write another one next semester because I'm a double major). For one thing, "do your whole bibliography and cite all your sources last" is a good strategy for a five page paper with six sources, and a really bad strategy for a 27-page paper with 20+ sources. Ok, that's all I can think of right now. So I learned one thing. I mean, I could say I learned a valuable lesson about procrastination, but that would be a bold-faced lie. Or possibly a bald-faced lie. I don't really know which is correct. Prorastination is not something I can learn my way out of. But the citation thing, that should really help a lot next semester.
And this, this is the most interesting thing I can conceive of to blog about. Rather than ramble on for what I judge to be an appropriate post-length and bore everyone I'll quit while I'm ahead.

Friends. Couple. Married. Scientist. Rocks.

Marten enters the tribunal hall. It is empty. As Marten goes to investigate, the hall's ceiling retracts to reveal a blimp in the sky, which promptly explodes. A figure parachutes down, landing in the middle of the hall.

"I'm Michael Bay and I demand things to - Damn it! Where is everybody?"

Marten: I was wondering the same thing...

Bay: I've been parachuting down here every day for the last 20 days. The first time I figured they just changed the meeting time and nobody bothered to tell Michael Bay. But they still haven't met. This is so NOT AWESOME. I'm charging every one of these blimps to Michael Christie.

Marten: Why to Michael?

Bay: *shrugs*

Marten: I wonder where the tribunal could possibly be.

(Meanwhile, in a dark basement, the tribunal is tied to chairs and blindfolded. Mysterious robed figures surround them. One, a petite figure who wasn't in the last revolutionary scene, is wailing on Nick Heidfeld with a shillelagh.)

Mysterious figure with shillelagh: And this is for making us post twice a month even when we're really busy and have grad school! And this is for threatening us with aliens! And this is for depriving the zombie cast of RENT! of two of their leads!

Mysterious figure who is actually Jonah: Damn, Erin! You've got a lot of rage.

Erin (suddenly very calm): I just pretend they're some of my students.

Mysterious figure 3 (from the last post): I... know the feeling. (Producing his own shillelagh and hitting Samuel L. Jackson) KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!

(Samuel L. Jackson suddenly stands up, ripping off the rope that holds him in the chair and vaporizing his blindfold with the sheer intensity of his stare)
Jackson: Enough is Enough! I've had it with these motherfucking shillelaghs in this motherfucking basement! It's time to open some windows!

Mysterious figure 2: But the basement doesn't have any windows.

Samuel L. Jackson: Then it's time to get out of this basement. Now turn some lights on, take off those stupid robes, and somebody tell me just what the hell this is all about.

Jonah (as everyone instantly complies): Yes, Mr. L. Jackson sir.

(The mysterious figures remove their robes to reveal Erin, Jonah, Nathan, and the three figures from the last post, in numerical order, Laurence Fishburne, Thomas, and William Shatner.)

Erin (tentatively, as she unties Helen Mirren): We have... some demands.

Nathan: We want leniency in the posting requirements.

Jackson: Fair enough.

Nathan: And a renegotiation of the contract with Lrrr and Ndnd. It's a conflict of interest if they keep being guaranteed meals.

Jackson: I don't want to be the one to tell them they're not guaranteed meals, but maybe we can work something out. What about the rest of you?

Jonah: I demand immediate cessation of the traditional mocking of Jonah.

Mirren: Does everyone want that, or is it just him?

(Silence)

Mirren: The mocking stays in.

Heidfield: Jonas ist ein armer Revolutionär des Piss, und er riecht wie einer auch.

(Applause)

Fishburne: I want to be in charge of the Tribunal!

Jackson: Pfft. Please.

Thomas: I have no particular demands!

Jackson: Granted.

Shatner: I just want people to love me again.

Jackson: There's not really anything I can do about that, Bill.

Shatner: Can I... get a hug?

(Uncomfortable silence until Thomas finally hugs William Shatner)

Jackson: And what about you, still wearing the robe?

(The final robed figure steps forward and reveals himself to be none other than Michael. Oooh, bet you didn't see that one coming)

Michael: I'm tired of writing you guys EVERY SINGLE MONTH. Maybe you could only meet if someone doesn't complete the posting requirements.

Jackson: Alright. Let's get upstairs and make some proclamations.

(The entire party climbs up a single flight of stairs to find themselves in the tribunal's chamber)

Marten (to Michael Bay): You never thought to check the basement?

Marshal of the Court: Oyez! Oyez! Oyez! All persons having business before the Honorable, the Tribunal of Justice of Compendium of Stupidity, are admonished to draw near and give their attention, for the Court is now sitting. God save the Compendium and this Honorable Court!

Samuel L. Jackson: (gavelling in) I hereby call this meeting of the tribunal to order. Be it resolved that first time post offenders will and offenders in extenuating circumstances will not be fed to Lrrr or Ndnd, that said aliens will be guaranteed by this court no meals, undead or otherwise, and that from henceforth the tribunal shall meet only in the event of pressing business, though Michael Bay shall continue to give his award for awesomest post if he so chooses.

(Cheers erupt from the crowd)

Michael Bay: (Bleary eyed) I'm Michael Bay (yawn) I demand things to be awesome. And this month the awesomest post was: Zzzzzzzzzzz.

(Michael bay falls asleep in the back of courtroom as everyone else tiptoes off)

Erin: Wait! What about my writ of certiori? Am I off the hook?



Erin: Whatever.


Friends. Couple. Married. Scientist. Rocks.

In which a problem that is not really a problem is described, but not fully solved

So I have this roommate...
I'm sure I've talked about him before. Not nearly as much as he talks about me on his blog, though, and I figure turnabout is fair play. Plus I'm ninety percent sure he doesn't know this blog exists. See, my roommate has been dating this girl for like a year and a half now. It's a long distance relationship and he, being the easy-going guy that he is, offered very early on to give her a free pass at other guys, effectively making there's an open relationship. She declined. Until a few weeks ago.
After she finally called him on it, he decided not to tell anyone, on the basis that if he started saying he was in an open relationship, certain people would think he'd just been hitting on them for a long time, and he didn't want to come off as a dick. So he didn't tell anyone. Which, as I pointed out, kind of defeats the purpose. Somehow, this fact got back to the girlfriend, who responded with something like "If you really don't think love and sex are connected, go fool around with some girl." So she gave him an ultimatum - make out with someone else before Thanksgiving break, or you won't be making out with me,"
Now, as our friend Tom pointed out, most guys would kill for that ultimatum. Not my roommate. Every time we suggest a friend of ours or a method for solving this problem, he rejects for some reason, usually along the lines of "it would make things awkward" or "I'd be taking advantage of her," Perfectly valid reasons, but it still left us in a predicament. So at breakfast today, Tom and I were discussing this with my roommate. As Tom explained the finer points of going to the frat dorm and hitting on drunk girls, I went over to a table a few tables away where my friend Kendra was sitting by herself.
"Kendra? I have a question,"
"Yes?"
"How would you feel about making out with Chalkey? You know, hypothetically,"
"I... wouldn't be opposed to it,"
"Say, some time in the next four days?"
"Wait a minute, what? I thought this was hypothetical,"
"It is. sort of. So you wouldn't be opposed to it?"
"No, I don't think I would,"
I walked back to the table and sat down.
"Kendra's game," I said non nonchalantly.
Chalkey got the most priceless look on his face, and just looked around. He was very insistant that he wasn't going to just hook up with some random girl, but then Tom was all "isn't that the point?"
Later, Kendra went back to the table and asked what the hell was going on, at which point Tom was obliged to explain it to her while Chalkey glared at me. But, on the way back, Chalkey asked me if Kendra had actually flat out said yes or no, which I consider a good sign.
You see, somehow, it's turned into a competition now. If Chalkey doesn't make out with anyone, nobody wins. If I find him his girl, I win, and if he goes the drunk chick route, Tom definitely wins. Fun times, right?

Friends. Couple. Married. Scientist. Rocks.

I never knew until now, but I always wanted that!

I didn't follow my usual title scheme for a very important reason. Michael will tell you that he wants it, but I am going to tell you that I WANT IT SO MUCH MORE THAN HE DOES. This is what happens when we both watch tv at the same time, but I totally wanted it first. I've loved dinosaurs longer, and have actually dug for dinosaur bones. Sure, it was in the playground at Brook Park Elementary School, but it's the spirit of the activity that's important. And that is why I will win the duel that resulted from the following conversation:

"Michael" (8:42:48 PM): Marten!

"Michael" (8:42:55 PM): I found my Christmas present!

Pinball jedi 42 (8:42:57 PM): MICHAEL!

Pinball jedi 42 (8:43:00 PM): SO DID I!

"Michael" (8:43:00 PM): http://www.hasbrotoyshop.com/ProductsByBrand.htm?BR=485&ID=22405

Pinball jedi 42 (8:43:02 PM): http://www.amazon.com/Playskool-Kota-My-Triceratops-Dinosaur/dp/B0016H1OPQ/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=toys-and-games&qid=1226972535&sr=8-1

Pinball jedi 42 (8:43:04 PM): NO!

Pinball jedi 42 (8:43:06 PM): I WANTED IT FIRST!

"Michael" (8:43:09 PM): ME FIRST!

Pinball jedi 42 (8:43:13 PM): NOOOOOO!

Pinball jedi 42 (8:43:14 PM): MINE!

Pinball jedi 42 (8:43:22 PM): I GOT SO MUCH MORE EXCITED THAN YOU!

"Michael" (8:47:24 PM): NO!

"Michael" (8:47:26 PM): MINE!

"Michael" (8:47:55 PM): You can have Fisher Price Elmo Live!

Pinball jedi 42 (8:48:20 PM): NO

Pinball jedi 42 (8:48:24 PM): I want dinosaur

"Michael" (8:48:30 PM): MY DINOSAUR!

Pinball jedi 42 (8:48:32 PM): I want Kota the Triceratops

Pinball jedi 42 (8:48:38 PM): I want it more than you

"Michael" (8:48:39 PM): MY KOTA THE TRICERATOPS!

Pinball jedi 42 (8:48:49 PM): I will fight you, Michael

"Michael" (8:49:00 PM): I CHALLENGE YOU TO A DUEL!

"Michael" (8:49:18 PM): KOTA WILL BE MINE!

Pinball jedi 42 (8:52:27 PM): Very well. We shall duel on the eve of the Third Annual Pre-Thanksgiving Movie Night

"Michael" (8:52:53 PM): EXCELLENT! FETCH MY DERRINGERS!

I apologize to the rest of Compendium for the collateral damage that will almost certainly result from this epic battle, but I must have Kota.

Meanwhile, my free-fall of procrastination, while ended with smooth landings on the halloween (Vampire hunter, prop based, put together in two hours, looked awesome) and the Shakespeare(Read as King Lear, sort of wished I read like Hugo Weaving, but was awesome anyway) fronts, I've sort of fallen on my face with my artist as entrepreneur class. I don't think I ever recovered from the time I missed from being suspended. And now it seems like assignments keep getting piled on, and so my life has taken on a weird sort of dichotemy. I'm having a great time with friends here, whenever I hang out with Nathan and Jonah and Amanda, things are terrific with Claire, I'm actually bonding with the rest of my department for once what with the communing with spirits on a ouija board with Nina, Allison and Owen, and just generally having an awesome time with every part of my life that isn't class. I'm ready for Thanksgiving break, only not really. I'm ready to be done with the major assignments, but I'm not actually ready to turn them in.

Friends. Couple. Married. Scientist. Rocks.

OH MY GOD YOU JUST SAID THAT!

I voted, it was kinda cool. I sort of wish that I voted in Indiana, since it turned out to actually be important. As it is, though, since Ohio's race got pretty narrow at the end, my vote probably actually got counted. The board of elections or whatever it is that you register with spelled my name wrong on my voter registration card, so I had to cast a provisional ballot. Yay, Obama, and all that. I'm watching the Daily Show, and these clips of all the celebrations after the election make me think of a coke commercial. I also like the south park conspiracy that Obama and McCain were working together to get access to the emergency tunnel from the oval office in order to finish a diamond heist. I'm also with Erin on the awesome hologram technology thing. There is, however, something that I'm more excited about.

He's Back.
It could be a matter of national importance.
Could it still be nothing if you hear it twice?
Friends. Couple. Married. Scientist. Rocks.
Shiny shiny little rocks...
Let's rest next to this large plant.
IT IS THE WAITING THAT IS DIFFICULT

Next, when I feel like posting it, my awesomeness at procrastination of such things as Halloween and Shakespeare.

Don't try to rationalize the viking.

A New Hope

After tonight, there is no doubt about it, the world is moving forward. CNN chose to display this in more ways than one. You may think that I will be addressing one of them, but you all know how I feel about that and are probably just about as overwhelmed as I am. I may be livejournaling by the end of the night. No, I'm going to talk about the other sign of progress seen tonight.

In the midst of all the hope and change, you may have failed to notice… WE ARE LIVING IN A SCIENCE FICTION MOVIE!

Recently, I put some thought into how to describe certain Star Wars technologies. The comlink? It’s… basically a cell phone. One you always have to have on speakerphone. Like my phone right now, actually. The datapad? As I understand it, it’s like a cross between a BlackBerry and a Kindle. Undeniably, these examples taken into account, The Future Is Here.

But communicating by hologram? I thought that was something that would actually not really be possible. I mean, Magical Fake Technology, right?

WRONG! Because tonight, CNN communicated with Chicago by hologram. No, for real. There were life-sized people projected live with slight blue auras around them. No matter how many times I see it, I can’t believe it. I cannot. Believe it. I would have to actually be in that studio to be convinced that they weren’t just pulling some fancy deceptive CGI.

And if I were there… well, I’d have been skipping and running around in circles all over the place, going “Eee hee hee hee!” Wouldn’t you? “Come on, say it! Saaay iiiiit!” “*Sigh.* Help me Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hope.” “Heeeeeeee!”

Guys, there is a holodeck that projects life-size real-time color holograms in Chicago and another one at CNN. We are thisclose to HoloNetNews: Earth.

Now, the question is, how fast can we spread this new technology? How quickly can we make it a norm? To the point, how soon can I get a holodeck? Will you get me one for Christmas? It would be the best gift in the world.

ETA: LOOKIT! WAAAAANT!

Don't try to rationalize the viking.

That day we read no more.

In this post I am going to talk about both the awesome side and the horrible side of academia and a career therein. Join me, won't you?

First, the horrible side. My. Students. SUCK. About half of my class is composed of asshats. But there is a ringleader-- let us call him Snowflake. This is the history of the Snowflake Debacle. Snowflake has come to think a lot of himself over the years; in his own eyes, he is the specialest snowflake in the whole wide world. Hence the nickname. From day one he has been pushing me with this attitude-- "I clearly do not respect you at all, but how can you not find me utterly adorable? I am oh so charming!" He's routinely talking during lectures and surfing his computer and so on during class. When the students got so bad that I had to take a beginning of class to lay out my participation requirements, even though these were rules in the syllabus, Snowflake was concerned enough to send me an email (a few days later), questioning these policies that had been in place all semester and actually suggesting to me that I stop cold calling students (a radical classroom procedure, I know!) since they clearly aren't answering because they don't know the answer. FOR REAL. I sent him a reply liberally quoting the syllabus and considered the matter settled. He didn't change his behavior, but whatever.

Then he got his resume back, and while he had one of the better grades in the class, he came to my office (a handful of them did, but he was the worst) loudly complaining. Then he sent me another douchey email about it. Then he sent me another douchey email asking to see my breakdown of the participation grades. I don't want to go into any more detail here, and I may in fact edit this, but... GAH! I so much wanted to send his ass to the program director, and the program director wanted it just as badly, but every time I suggested that Snowflake go to the director, he was basically like, "No, I think I'll just keep on harrassing you. That seems to be working well."

Finally, he basically set up for himself another meeting with me in my office. I refused this meeting. But his group had a scheduled meeting with me that day anyway, and afterward he wanted to talk for a second. He apologized if I was offended by his conduct. Not apologized for his conduct, mind you. And I wish that I could say that I went off on him. I wish that I had told him that his behavior has been uacceptable, given him the reasons, and told him to improve ASAP or he would not only fail my class but get fired from his job for being a douchebag. But I didn't. Somehow in face-to-face meetings with these kids I always get uncomfortable and basically roll over. In this one, I did manage to say, "You need to work on the tone of your emails. You need to show respect to me as your teacher." And I know he knows what he did. But when he's standing there denying that he does... I don't know what to do.

The funny thing is, everyone I tell about him is outraged on my behalf, and everyone in the offices who hear him speak to me immediately know that he is an asshole. So at least I know I'm not wrong about him. And since everyone tells me I'm more lenient than they would have been with the grading, I know I'm not wrong about that, either.

However, I am waaaay behind on my grading, and it's apparently panicking my class, and I do have to have a meeting with the director about that on Monday. So... I'm really nervous about that. Like, really. It's kind of the last thing I need right now, not that it's not justified. Just... ugh.

But! I get to TA for a lit class next semester instead! I know this is going to be challenging, too, but at this point I am beyond happy to get out of BTW, at least for a while. Knowledge of this reprieve was the only thing that got me through the day that six students came to my office to talk to me about their resume grades.

But this past week has been a good reminder of why I love academia. My university hosted a Translating the Middle Ages conference, and although setting aside time on my two busiest days was initially a pain in the ass, I went to several of the sessions, and was really glad I did. They were really interesting, and we had a couple of pretty prominent speakers. And then this past Tuesday evening, as part of the conference events, there was a reading and talk by Robert Pinsky and W.S. Merwin aboutu their translations of Inferno and Purgatorio, respectively. WOW. Pinsky is the poet laureate, by the way, and Merwin a) translated Sir Gawain and the Green Knight and b) knew Sylvia Plath and Ezra Pound. Their reading was amazing. It was chilling and moving and I almost started crying at the end. I hope to post more about this on my livejournal. And then their talk about the art of translation was really insightful and thoughtful. I loved it. I was totally talked into skipping my Theory lecture to go, and it was beyond worth it. I am so glad I went-- this is the kind of event you remember for a while. Just... wow.

Tonight I was roped into going to a Halloween party, and it was awkward. I'll post more about that later. But anyway, I thought I was going to be able to post earlier before I was convinced to go, so... there's that. And then they wouldn't let me leave.

Don't try to rationalize the viking.

Parley! I invoke the Right of Parley!

Writ of centiorari! Writ of centiorari! Grad school is HARD, yo!

So, my birthday was the 12th. It was an okay birthday, just not as good as it could have been had I actually been with the people I wanted to be with. I did manage not to have to do any work that day. And I was home for the first half of the day. My birthday is also my granddad's birthday (and my grandparents' anniversary), so I was home, because he turned 90. That was cool; we all went out to dinner and I got the fourth season of The Office.

I spent a large chunk of the day riding in the car with my mom, and I was really sleepy because I'd had a hard time getting to sleep the night before, but I didn't want to spend my birthday sleeping... it was a conundrum. We got back to Illinois. and it turned out that my birthday this year fell on the day before Canadian Thanksgiving. My Canadian roommate couldn't go home for Canadian Thanksgiving, so she and I went to another girl's house to celebrate Canadian Thanksgiving.

I've never celebrated Canadian Thanksgiving before, but it was great, even if only in that we got to eat real food. Usually there would be turkey, but we had chicken instead, and potatoes. It was really good. And then we watched a BBC adaptation of the first half of Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere. So... that was interesting, I"m sure, both as a birthday for me and as a Thanksgiving for Arley.

So, yeah, it was a good birthday, but I really missed my Hanover friends and you guys and I kept thinking how much better it could have been. We did have a party for me a week after my birthday. It was probably a pretty lame party, but I was just glad that a handful of people came. The invitations went out at the last minute. It was more a party in honor of the cake that Arley made in honor of my birthday than anything else. She made me a cake version of Seeley Booth (in his Shirtless!Booth form) wishing me a happy birthday in Old English. And it was really delicious. I took pictures-- both Before and After pictures. It looked like Gormogon had gotten to him or something.

I was glad that the party wasn't a very big to-do, because it was almost more a hindrance than anything else. Though I did want my cake. Grad school is stressing me out hugely. A LOT. I've been okay for most of this week simply by convincing myself to be Zen about it, but overall I am freaking out the majority of the time. I'm freaking out when I'm not working, and when I am working, which is the majority of the time, I am also freaking out on a kind of mental back-burner. I'm still glad I came to grad school, but I've definitely had the "What the hell am I doing here?" moments. A lot of them. Like, every day the week before last.

So, please don't feed me to Lrrr. I'll cry.

Don't try to rationalize the viking.

In which Nathan is tired and completely insane

Stage Managing and I do not get along, for a number of reasons. First off, stage managing is all about organization - I am the least organized person I know. Secondly, stage management requires you to do be very self-motivated as far as getting stuff done goes. Normally, I am fairly good at that, but I'm too busy now - anytime when I don't have a specific thing to be doing, I'm doing homework or I'm too brain-dead to function. I never think to, say, make a tech schedule or finish the contact list. Once this show is over, no more SMing for me. I gave it the Old college try, literally.
This is probably a very bad year to try and write a ffty thousand word novel in a month, but I feel I have to try anyway. Perhaps it will somehow work to keep me sane. Probably not. Probably it will get left by the wayside two weeks in. Probably when I'm working on the two English papers I have due the same day. But I'm going to try anyway. I feel like if I'm this busy already, it can't gt much worse. Or I'm just a masochist. Either way, I'm going for it.
I am currently dressed as Sokka, from Avatar: The Last Airbender. There will be pictures up on facebook in few days I think, I think it came out well. Of course Bridget and Emily's Sokka and Toph are much more professional looking, but they got help from their mothers. The only thing my mom did for me was to thread the showing machine. So I'm proud of my outfit. And going around in a silly outfit all day makes me happy, which is something I need now.
Sorry I'm not posting more. This tends to fall by the wayside in my rare moments of free time as well. But at least I shan't be fed to Lrr.
I am working on making myself over to look more like Emily Bronte. Kylie has hoop skirts I can borrow, so I'll let you know how that goes.
Don't try to rationalize the viking.

2038: Last of the Original Star Wars cast dies.

I'm glad we finally have a new poll. I hear it's part of a series, and am duly excited.

I am currently studying for a midterm for an intro history course. It's giving me more trouble than it probably should be, but on account having never really paid attention in the class, I'm having problems fitting the fact that I know this shit into the format of an exam. I also have several distractions. My favorite comes in the form of Avatar/movie trailer dubs. It's kind of sad; some of these trailers make me want to see the movies more than the real versions. If any of you only click one of those, click "versions," it's the Quantum of Solace trailer with Zuko as Bond. It's pretty awesome.

Living in a single is lonely. People should visit me more often. Although, the more people I talk to, the better I feel about the social implications of my situation. Just last night, four of the other theatre majors told me how ridiculous they thought the school acted and how even if I acted rashly, there is as much fault on her side as there is on mine and for me to get this much shit on me is unfair. It is important to note that these four theatre majors are women. Audrey also told me that during the meeting where Jonah told everyone what was up, they talked about getting a security officer for the Pokemon Tournament so I could still play. It brought me lots of warm fuzzies. Everyone's just been so awesome since I've got back and I feel much better about how everything's going down. Still waiting on the word from the President on whether or not Gen and I can trade places, or at least whether or not I can come back and visit Yost.

Don't try to rationalize the viking.

Oops. I just accidentally poored out AAAAALL of your dish detergent.

I decided to delete my old post. Partially because I wrote it in anger, partially because I didn't have all the facts, but mostly because it makes me out not knowing what I did was wrong. I still maintain that I was dealt with disproportionately, and, as Jonah put it, security had the attitude of "why use a scalpel when you can use a chainsaw."
I want to apologize to everyone that I didn't talk to immediately, everyone who supported me and just wanted to know what was happening and if I was alright. I am so grateful to the handful of friends that stuck with me through this, whether it was a phone call or an IM to see if I was okay, or if it was just waiting for my side of the story before jumping to conclusions.
I also want to apologize to Gen, and not because it got me suspended for five days, caused me to miss rehearsals, classes and exams, and lost me lots of money and at least 9 hours of work. I’m sorry I slapped her because it was the wrong way to go about expressing how I felt. I thought it would resonate with how she'd treated me in the past, but I was wrong. All I can do is apologize. I know that she won't see this, and I can't tell her anything because I'm not allowed, but I might as well let everyone else know how I feel.

Don't try to rationalize the viking.

This special post was brought to you in Arial font to increase the cathartic effect.

You don't want her candy, son. It's dumb candy. It'll make you stupid

Since the school wouldn't pay for a hotel, and still wouldn't let me just stay in my room, I went home on Tuesday night. I wrote my statement for my hearing, had Lara cut my hair, watched a high school concert that was mostly crappy. Today I drove back to school, and had my hearing. I think it went well, but I have no real parameters for evaluation. Afterward, I was told that I was still suspended, and I don't actually get to know what the result of the hearing is until 4. pm, that is, not in three hours. Right now I'm in a super 8 motel. I've missed 5 classes, at least 10 hours of work, I have no money. I'm not going to be compensated for this at all, and I'll probably be punished more.
Funny story, Claire took me out for dinner since I'm out of money. I, being the only boy in the world who wants to share his comical baby pictures, bring along the photo album that my mom put together for my senior open house stuff forever ago. The waitress sees it and says "Oh, are those your kids?" Awkward and hilarious, yet kind of eerie, considering my mom was only 2 years older than we are when I was born. Still, while technically old enough to have kids, I'm pretty sure I'm not old enough to be looking at them in a photo album.

Don't try to rationalize the viking.

In which Jonah deplores the state of the American education system

I had a terrific break. Went to IU, didn't do homework, rode a horse, big fun. But I want to tell you a story from this weekend. It's not a happy story. It is a sad, sad story of woe and now I've sort of built it up more than I ought to. On the other hand, it's not a very long story so I thought maybe I should pad it a little here at the beginning.
Anyway, while I was in Kirkwood, which is a little village in Bloomington next to the IU campus, Saralyn and I realized we needed some books. In particular, I still needed a copy of "Shirley" for my Bronte class. Well the first bookstore didn't have the book but it did have seperate sections for new fiction and classic literature.
The second bookstore was not the sort of bookstore one would expect to find Brontes in. It was not musty and full of old volumes on wooden shelves. It was full of new-looking books and computer-typed labels and dorm-room shelving units. But still when I didn't see so much as a Jane Eyre in the fiction section I did ask the girl at the counter (an IU student by the looks of her, and with English textbooks in front of her) if she could check the computer for me. Her reaction was not promising.

Girl: By who?
Me: Charlotte Bronte.
Girl: Is that B-R-O-N-T-E?
Me (deciding not to mention the umlaut): Yep
Girl: Looks like the only thing we have by Bronte is Jane Ire.
(Yes, she pronounced it "ire." Without a touch of sarcasm or irony. As if she'd never seen the title before.)
Girl: Oh, and Wuthering Heights. Oh wait, that's a different Bronte.
(Eye-roll)
Girl: Anyway, the only copy of Jane Ire we have is over by graphic novels.
Saralyn (As utterly horrified as I am): Well maybe we should get going.
Me: Just a sec, I want to check something out (under my breath as we turn away) I cannot leave without seeing Jane Ire: The Graphic Novel.

Unfortunately, it just turned out to be an illustrated edition of Jane Eyre, the text of the book with Tim Burton-esque gothy pictures interspersed. Amusing, but I was hoping for full-on graphic novel treatment, with word-bubbles and everything.
Anyway, I'm pretty much never going to set foot in that bookstore again, since it single-handedly destroyed my faith in the American education system. Eat it Lrrr!

Don't try to rationalize the viking.

In which Nathan takes a break

This is a weird break.

I was just reading my cousin's blog entry about her first break home from school, and remembering feeling exactly the same way then, and thinking about how I feel now, which is completely different. For one thing, I've never felt guilty about a break before.
Yes. Guilty. Because I have so much work to do on getting the props done for this show which goes in to tech in less than a week that I should be back at school doing that. If I succeed in getting all of this done in time, it's going to be a miracle. But if I don't, then the professors who trusted me with this responsibility are never going to trust me again. So I'm praying for a miracle, but mentally preparing myself for a week of ridiculously hard work, because classes don't stop when you have something like this going on (in fact, they have an annoying tendency to get harder.) So when I get back from school is going to be a shitty couple of weeks. But when they're over, it's going to be so nice. So nice.
My entire schedule right now seems to be obsessed which Gender roles. This is, of course, to be expected from the Charlotte Bronte class, but not quite as much from Shakespeare, my FYS, and Screenwriting. Yes, even screenwriting. By the way, I finished my ten page film short and I'm toying with the idea of putting it on my other blog. Would any of you want to read it if I did? It's about Magic cards. It went over quite well in my (mostly not nerdy) class, which was quite a relief. The final draft is due when I get back, but I'm afraid if the finished screenplay is like a Jenga tower, and if I move one block it will collapse. But I suppose I am going to have to take that risk at some point.

Don't try to rationalize the viking.

In which Jonah laments directionlessly (think of it as a return to the old days of the blog)

I'm skipping a class right now. I have every good reason to skip it except actually having something else to do right now, so as a result I'm feeling guilty. I mean, the whole class is going to be devoted to discussing reading I didn't remotely do, so it will only serve to ruin the ending of a good novel for me, and it's my first time missing said class all semester, and I e-mailed in the paper that was due. I guess I feel bad because I'm not sure why I skipped. Or maybe it just bums me out to be all alone in my house and room.
I've spent every free moment of my Thursday trying to contact Marten, whom I intended to visit last night but got home from newspaper too late. I would use this time to go and see him but I don't think it's quite enough time since I'm not entirely sure where the house is and am likely to get lost. But tomorrow morning I have to leave for Indy and I won't see him until after break. I feel like a really lousy friend. (Marten if you read this, give me a call). Secondary to worrying about Marten I have some worries about the effect all this will have on the program.
Meanwhile, everything demands my attention: classes, newspaper, the Pulliam Fellowship, Junior I.S., impending Halloween (I very much doubt I'll actually make my costume). And things with Saralyn, though getting better, are not as good as they have been before (people who don't know that story should feel free to ask but I've ultimately decided it's too personal for the internet.) And all this shit, even though it's not my shit per se, is still a little bit too much. And I hadn't realized how much Marten keeps me sane.
Here's hoping this break will contribute to that end. If only I didn't have to read half a book, write a paper and work on the application during the course of it.


Don't try to rationalize the viking.

A dark room. Cloaked figures are meeting together immediately after the Tribunal of Justice ruling. They do not remove their hoods.

Mysterious figure 1: (In a deep, oddly familiar voice) Did you see that? They got the Comstocks!

Mysterious figure 2: This time they've gone too far! This is it, the time to strike! Viva le blog revolution! Welcome to Fred!

MF 3: What on... earth are you... talking about?

MF 2: Sorry, that just slipped out. But seriously we should act now to save Jonah and Nathan. After all, we've already had a blog war and a blog renaissance. A blog revolution was overdue.

MF 1: But how do we save them? They're already in Lrrr and Ndnd's hungry clutches.

MF 4: (stepping out of the shadows and removing his hood to dramatically reveal Jonah) Not quite.

MF 3: But... how?

Jonah: You remember a while back when the zombie cast of Rent made a special appearance on the blog? Well I hired them again, then Nathan and I dressed zombie Mark and Roger up in our clothes, covered up their decaying flesh with lots of stage makeup, and sprayed them with Febreeze. It was the dolled up zombies you saw being devoured on T.V. and Lrrr's only comment was that we "tasted a bit stale."

MF 2: So now what do we do? What's the next step to oppose the tyrannical two-post mandate of the Tribunal of Injustice?

MF 5 (stepping out of the shadows and doing exactly the same dramatic reveal, only this time ultimately being Nathan, and also he's wearing a Che-esque beret): We do what we've always done. We post. We post from the shadows. We post without warning. We let them know that they can devour our flesh, but they can't silence our voices. They can quench the unlives of our zombie dopplegangers, but they can't quench the fires in our hearts! For Compendium!

All: For Compendium!

Nathan: And some day, when they least expect it, we shall strike.

I like dullness, sir. It expects nothing of me.

Since, even as I type this, I'm not really sure what I'm going to post about, it is going to be a bit scattered.

First, I'm going to talk about Mika, who made a cameo in my last entry. Mika is the prettiest kitty on the whole block (by which I mean that she is much prettier than Diva Pussy [actual name of cat], a cat of the same breed who lives downstairs). She likes to cuddle, too. She sleeps on my bed most of the time, now, I think because my bed is soft and because I keep more cat-like hours. Here is a breakdown of Mika's likes and dislikes.

Likes: water from the sink (infinitely superior to water in a bowl, apparently), playing with fake mice (especially the ones that are still in the box), licking the faces of those she loves (I have gotten kitten tongue burn on more than one occasion), laying on paper (I... don't know why), and laptops (becuase they are warm and sound like her).

Dislikes: when you leave, Diva Pussy (again, real name of the cat downstairs), laptops (because they take your attention away from her).

Actually, a day after I got my laptop back, finally, with its new hard drive, Mika stretched her paw across my keyboard, and when I tried to pry it off, she took the "B" key with her. It took me a long time to get it back on. If it hadn't worked, despite all her cuteness, I might never have forgiven her. I need that key for recapping! I recap a show called Bones with characters named Booth and Brennan! She works with bones and writes books! Sometimes there is blood, and I say, "Blech!" You get it.

Also, when Mika is feeling particularly affectionate, she will pet you. She strokes your arm or whatever with her paw. Because, you know, she likes it, so why shouldn't we? It is the sweetest thing.

Other than Mika, I am completely overwhelmed. It's taking me forever to find my balance and figure out my schedule, etc. Grad school is hard. I keep asking myself whether I really belong here, and the answer I keep coming up with is, "It had better be." So, I'm going to just have to keep plugging away.

I got to go home over the weekend, which was nice. I got to see my family, eat cake, and not work for a while. It was lovely. Now I'm back, and it's time to plunge back in. I'm working on it. And I'm talking to other people who are telling me to chill out. So... we'll see.

In other news, The Clone Wars series starts on Friday, and I'm looking forward to it in a strange, silly way.

All's well that ends well, unless you ask my door, I suppose.

It should be noted that both nathan and I posted in such a way that they appear before Ike: part III, and the Tribunal of Justice should acknowledge those posts accordingly.

All's well that ends well, unless you ask my door, I suppose.

Vampires have risen from the dead, the grave, and the crypt, but have never managed it from the cat.

So, I have my practice kitty now. Her name is Mika and she is delightful.

The night she arrived was an exciting night, not just because of the cat, but because as I was sitting, watching TV in the living room, something flew into the room and started flying around and around in circles.

First, I thought, "AAAH! A BIRD!" And then, ".... The cockamouse?" And then, "Oh, shit. Is that a bat?" So, I ducked out of the room, saying, "Oh, holy shit!" At which Arley inquired, "What?" "There's a... bird, or a... bat flying in circles around the room?" She came to the doorway and determined that it was, indeed, a bat. So we retreated into her bedroom to figure out what to do.

Ultimately, we decided to take the course of action of calling Arley's mom. Her mom advised us to put on hats and shoes and shoo the bat out the door with a broom. I had to make do with putting a plastic bag, and then a handkerchief, over my head. But by the time we left Arley's room, the bat had shoved itself up in the corner over the frame of the apartment door. We realized that, no matter what we did, the bat had nowhere to fly but at us. Still, we got the broom out of the closet and I poked at the bat. Once. Quickly. It got angry and hissed, but it didn't move.

We reconvened in Arley's room to formulate a new plan. This plan: call some boys. So we called some male friends of Arley's, who shortly came over and decided to modify our original plan. They tried poking the bat with the broom. They then tried sweeping the bat out of the corner into the dustpan. Then they tried to sweep the bat into a box. And then they tried attaching the box (the box my hairdryer came in, may it rest in peace) to the handle of the Swiffer mop, and the dustpam to the handle of the broom, and I don't even know what they were doing at that point because I had shut myself in Arley's room with the cat. I decided to redirect my efforts toward looking up the phone number of Animal Control.

We tried to call our landladies about five times to no avail, so finally we did get a guy from Wild Animal Control to come out. It took probably over an hour for him to come, so during the wait Arley and I hung out in her room and worried about how long the bat had been there and whether we had rabies now. Because I never actually saw the bat come in, and in the confusion I'm not even sure whether it came in through the attic door or the window.

Finally, the Wild Animal Control guy came, put on a glove, and grabbed the bat out of the corner. He then put it in a box and sent it off to be tested for rabies, which it did not have. Of course, I had to call Animal Control to find that out. Apparently the usual policy is that if they don't call within two days it's fine, but the guy encouraged us to make sure.

So, in conclusion, I am not a vampire, and you do not need to organize the Compendium of Stupidity Erin Chandler Memorial Celebrity Pro-Am Fun Run Race for the Cure.

One post down, one to go.

All's well that ends well, unless you ask my door, I suppose.

In which school hits its stride and impedes blogging

What can I say nearly into October? My school year so far has been on the stressful side. The biggest problem is my Junior I.S. class, which is supposed to be all about preparing me to write my Junior I.S. paper, but we spend so much time doing other stuff for that class I hardly have time to work on said paper. It's kind of ridiculous. I have to have four spec pages of I.S. due on Friday, and I don't know what my texts are. I thought I had two of the five, but when I e-mailed Prof. Bourne to ask for ideas on other texts he raised some good objections to one of the two I'd already decided on. So I need to hit the library tomorrow night and then write, and I have so many other things to do, because the second, third, and fourth biggest problems are... my other classes. Because as much as I feel privileged to read everything the Bronte Sisters ever wrote, it turns out that that takes a lot of time, and then the newspaper still exists, as does Common Grounds.
I guess the point is I'm even busier than even I'm accustomed to being. And the complication for this is that the application for the Pulliam Fellowship, which is an insanely awesome paid internship with the Indianapolis Star, is due in one month. And I'm so stressed about it, not because I don't like my chances (they're pretty good) but because it's such an amazing opportunity that if I don't get it I'll hate myself. Oh, and I have to learn to drive by this summer to get the fellowship. So that's the short version of why I haven't blogged. There's a second part of the reason, too, but I'll have to blog that later.

All's well that ends well, unless you ask my door, I suppose.

She was a PERSON, not a bundle of experience points!

I keep thinking about posting and I keep not doing it. Once I was going to post about philosophy, which has gotten a bit amusing. I'll try and remember the things I was going to say about that. It mostly had to do with Wittgenstein's Tractatus, which has a bunch of fun things to say. One of my favorites is premise 3.25: There is one and only one complete analysis of a sentence. It's hilarious, makes me think of Phillipy, and is pretty much a big "Screw you" to literary analysts everywhere. Turns out language is just like math and a sentence can only mean one thing. Other gems include 4. A sentence that makes sense is a thought, 2.72 A picture cannot depict its form of representation; it can only show it, and 3.032 It is as impossible to say something that contradicts logic as is is to draw a figure that contradicts the laws of space or to specify the coordinates of a non-existant point. Escher, of course, does the first one all the time.
Something that's been simultaneously bothering and amusing me about philosophy lately is that it has a tendency to disprove the exceedingly obvious, like the possibility of movement, of change, or of communication. It seems like you have to figure out how normal things are possible before you can think about bigger things. I have to prove that I exist before I can prove that the conception of my imaginary dungeons and dragons world can have any meaning. I really want to bring that up in my understanding language class at some point, because one problem we can't get away from is deriving significant meaning or truth from sentences about fictional objects. This is what role-playing is pretty much all about, an entirely shared fictional world. I might make a more in-depth post about this on untitled, if I can work out exactly what I'm trying to say. Either way, I'm falling asleep in class less often.

All's well that ends well, unless you ask my door, I suppose.

In which Nathan is in charge of way too many things

So what it comes to is, I am not a fan of responsibility. This seems to be the semester for being in way over my head. At production meetings for Flea, I usually just sit their staring blankly at the wall and mutter something vague and non-committal when asked for a progress report. Or so it seems to me. Apparently I seemed quite put together to the Stage Mangagers, but they might just have been saying that to make me feel better. Either way, I'm way behind where I need to be on props, and I'm really worried that I'm not going to get them done and no one will ever want to give me responsibility again.

The Dance concert is actually better, because as Stage Manager I have a lot less to actually do - I just have to keep other people organized. I don't really know what I'm doing at all, but apparently that's kind of to be expected in the fall dance concert. It's a training ground for just about everyone involved.

The TAing job is similar. I lead my first discussion on Tuesday - I never knew silence to be so nerve-wracking. Not only did my questions go out of my head, my ability to read went with them, denying me access to0 the questions I had written out. And my students new I was completely striking out. Eventually, I managed to start a discussion, but it was a terrifying couple of minutes until I did.

The Scene shop is interesting. My new boss thinks very highly of me, and seems to be giving me a fair amount of responsibility and autonomy. This is good, but also bad, because I don't always 100% know what I'm doing. But I'm certainly learning faster than I would be playing it safe, and I think maybe I needed that. Also, I got to weld, which was fun. Gotta love heating pieces of metal until they melt and resolidify as one piece. And you get to wear a cool mask and sparks fly everywhere. So, in short, welding is awesome.

All's well that ends well, unless you ask my door, I suppose.

The reverse Bel-Air only works once, so make it something unforgettable.

I think my favorite quote from the silliness that's going on in the next room is "I HATE THWOMPS!" closely followed by "I always lose the P-wings before I get this far." Other gems concern how you can jump on anything with boots and how many one-ups there are in the average level. I'm worried about myself, because I think I might actually be growing out of video games. I don't can't even play any incarnation of super smash brothers for more than an hour or so, sometimes even less. It's probably a good thing. I just find more interesting yet equally dorky things to do.
I've got a new campaign in mind, and I'm really enjoying creating characters for my players to interact with. I'm not so great with the world building, but I imagine it will sort of come together. There's a girl in the group who is completely new to D&D and is very excited about that, and it makes me really excited by proxy.
I wore a corset today. I am afraid to admit that I actually kind of enjoyed it. I was ridiculous, and felt invited to be even more ridiculous because I was a guy in a corset, and therefore allowed. It didn't hurt that much, and after I took it off, I felt all wobbly. I should probably mention that it was for a sight gag in the play, which is a French farce.
I broke up with Gen last night. I'm not going to talk about that any further, because I don't really want to. Most of you knew already, anyway.
Those last two points are in no way connected. Really.

All's well that ends well, unless you ask my door, I suppose.

In which Marten is running out of time, and steals a title scheme

I have just returned from Pittsburgh where I spent the weekend with Gen and her family. It was a pretty good time; much food was eaten, many shuttlecocks were lost in a tree, political talk was avoided, and the passive voice was generally over-used. It really was kind of scary whenever anyone started saying anything remotely political, though, because Gen's entire family, and everyone attached enough to it to be invited to this cook-out that happened, is incredibly right-wing. I don't really know enough about anything to really defend anything, so I just kind of sat silently while my left-friends were shamelessly bashed about. It wasn't even usually some sort of issue being tossed around, just a lot of insulting things flung to the left. Meh. I guess Gen probably feels the same way here a lot of the time. Still, I had a lot of fun throwing darts, losing at pool, entertaining small children, and playing with Gen's father's guitars. I also took home a lot of cookies of assorted type and flavor.

I have been cast in a show, the auditions for which both Nathan and Jonah chickened out. I have a tiny role, "Concierge" and male understudy. The second part worries me some what, since there are nine male roles, and this may mean I need to learn all of them in case any one male drops out or gets sick, or possibly gets hit by a meteor. I'm not terribly worried, since I generally know the entire show halfway through rehearsals no matter what I'm doing for it, but it will be nice to know exactly what "male understudy" entails when I get to the read-through tonight. For all I know, there could be a special performance in which I do all the male parts by myself while the female understudy plays all the female parts with me, which could be kind of fun, but I'd like to be ready for it all the same.

I feel as though there could be something else for me to share, but I can't think of what it could be. It's entirely possible that it's D&D related, but most of you only kind of care about that, so I'll let it pass.

All's well that ends well, unless you ask my door, I suppose.

In which Jane Eyre is interpreted wrong

I had some class schedule issues. Classes were rescheduled, waitlisted, shuffled around and now I have way more syllabi than I need. But the final result is that "Contemporary Dance History" has been replaced with "The Bronte Sisters".
So I've been reading Jane Eyre. And I came across some amusing images. Basically, what it comes down to is that 1. its really funny to take language that is clearly meant in a figurative sense and instead take it literally and 2. sometimes the meaning of a word changes over time and hilarity ensues as a result. Example of the first:

"During the intervening period I had no time to nurse chimeras; and I believe I was as active and gay as anybody—Adèle excepted. "

For some reason I had this immediate image of Jane actually nursing a chimera - that is to say, tending to a three headed mythological creature. And that's not the most disturbing meaning of the word nursing I could have chosen...

Example of the second: "I regarded her, of course, with special interest. First, I wished to see whether her appearance accorded with Mrs. Fairfax’s description; secondly, whether it at all resembled the fancy miniature I had painted of her; and thirdly—it will out!— whether it were such as I should fancy likely to suit Mr. Rochester’s taste."

Now I know want "painting a miniature" means in nineteenth century terms, but my mind instantly jumped to D & D Miniatures - Jane sitting at her hobby table, painting a little hard plastic Blanche Ingram on a little round base. Maybe setting it up next to her Space Marines.

That silliness aside, I'm really enjoying Jane Eyre, even if songs from the Musical keep popping into my head every chapter. I do wish I had a little more time to read it, though. Chunks of reading this large makes what might be an enjoyable experience into a chore.

Jellybeans are just little nuggets of cynicism.

In which Jonah uses poetry to avoid work

At The College of Wooster, all English Majors are automatically part of an English Majors' club called the Avant Gardeners. (get it? I love puns). I was picked randomly as Avant Gardener of the week, and I wanted to share with all of you my bio, which is rather silly.
So in lieu of a second legitimate post for the month of August, presenting my bio for Avant Gardener of the week (you might want to skim this first):

Jonah Comstock is a pretty cool guy,
Double majoring in English and Philosophy.
He has some insane ideas
of becoming a journalist.

Double majoring in English and Philosophy?
That’s probably not the best way
of becoming a journalist.
But it seemed more fun than a state school.

That’s probably not the best way
to introduce Jonah Comstock,
but it seemed more fun than a state school
on a Friday night!

To introduce Jonah Comstock,
A pantoum seems more appropriate.
On a Friday night,
Jonah can often be found at Common Grounds.

A pantoum seems more appropriate
because Jonah is a fairly silly person.
Jonah can often be found at Common Grounds
which, by the way, is awesome.

Because Jonah is a fairly silly person,
Jonah Comstock is a pretty cool guy,
which, by the way, is awesome.
He has some insane ideas.


Jellybeans are just little nuggets of cynicism.

It's not enough to bash in heads; you've got to bash in minds.

"Dr. Horrible" counts as a movie, right?

Well, both of my computers have been more or less broken for the past week. My laptop being the "more broken," as it turns out it needs a new hard drive. My desktop just needed a new wireless adaptor. Which I got last night just as Best Buy was closing. And lo, internet returned, and instant messaging was plentiful, and emails were answered in a timely manner, and there was much rejoicing throughout the land, amen.

It's really surprising how simply being without the internet can make you feel so much more cut off from everything in a new place than you would otherwise feel. I missed everybody so much.

Had I not been without internet at home, these are some of the blog entries you might have seen:

"Well, I suck considerably more than everyone else in my orientation, but my ethics assignment kicks ass and now everybody wants to use it. So, yay!"

"I RODE THE BUS I AM AWESOME!" (I really wanted to do an entry that said just that.)

"I really, really don't think I can teach. And I have been sucked into a marathon of 'Murder, She Wrote.' Jessica Fletcher is having trouble teaching, too. Primarily because she's also having to solve a murder, though. I don't think I'll have to solve a murder."

But I'm sure what you all really want to know about is my first day of teaching. Well. Have I got a story for you!

So, I noticed the day before I was supposed to teach for the first time that both of my classrooms weren't listed online. You see, I'm supposed to teach in a computer classroom in the English Building on Mondays and in a traditional classroom (well, except that it has no clock and a skeleton in the corner, whom I have mentally named Chuck) in the Speech and Hearing Sciences Building (or Secret Hall Somewhere, as I called it before anyone could figure out what SHS stood for). But my computer classroom wasn't online. So, even though I didn't have anything until 1:00 that day, I got to campus at about 10 to try to get this sorted out. The woman in charge of such things told me she would fix it and that I should just go to the SHS classroom for that day. Fortunately, I had backup computer-free plans for class. I spend the rest of the day hanging around, making copies, going to my Old French class (which was great, although I now understand the anger my Old English class felt toward me for already knowing German), going to lunch with the medievalists.

3:30 rolls around and I've suited up, I'm wearing my big-girl shoes, I'm ready to walk in to my class right on time. Only when I do, there's nobody in there but two old ladies and a note on the board saying that my class has been moved to the room it was originally supposed to be in. So I run (in heels) down the block to the English building, to the computer room. But there's nobody in there, either, except some confused professor who thought he was supposed to have class there also. I then run to the office of the Woman in Charge of Such Things, gasping, "I don't know where my class is! I don't know where to go!" She told me to go back to the SHS room, wait about fifteen minutes, and if nobody showed up, to just go home. I ran back down the block again. These were seven of the most stressful minutes of my life. I kept thinking, "SERIOUSLY? IS THIS SERIOUSLY HAPPENING ON MY FIRST DAY OF TEACHING EVER?"

I got back to the SHS room, and there were people in it. I burst in the room: "Is this [my class name]? Section [my section number]?" They nod. "YES. Okay. I was going to wear the jacket and look all professional for you guys, but I've just run between two buildings twice. Welcome to [my class]." It was... quite an entrance. And the rest of the time I was all sweaty and gross. But... nothing terrible happened. Whatever catastrophe I was trying to mentally prepare myself for all week never came. It was not great, but okay. I ended up taking the class on a field trip down the block to my office at the end of class to show them where it is. For the first day of school, they were all right, even though I was all frazzled and didn't really know what to "teach" them since it was the intro day. I was all torn between being too informal and treating them like they were stupid. But I made it through.

I have determined that my relationship with my students is not going to be a symbiotic one. It is going to be an epic struggle. And I want to WIN. I by God want to make the little bastards learn something. I've taken to calling them The Little Buggers or The Little Bastards in my head, even though this is totally unmerited as many of them are bigger than I am, and the majority are probably of legitimate birth. And, you know, they're not a bad class. They participate. There's a slight problem in that they're all business-major kids, and a lot of them are frat boys and such-- the kind of people I really couldn't stand in undergrad, and it's hard to shake the feeling that they're all secretly laughing at me behind my back because of this. But I definitely have one thing up on them: I possess the grade book.

But Wednesday's class went much better. Despite the face that I almost missed it AGAIN, though not by such a narrow margin, because I'd taken my laptop to the repair place and the website LIED about the bus schedule. But I made it back with about a half hour of leeway. I made sure that I had time-consuming activities, including one that involved writing, and I had a long lecture, and I was super-organized. So, it worked. I felt really good about Wednesday's class. And that night I got the internet back.

It was a good day.

Jellybeans are just little nuggets of cynicism.

The title creature in "A One-Eyed, One-Horned Flying Purple People Eater" is...

A one-eyed, one-horned purple creature that flies and eats people	1 (11%)
An otherwise undescribed creature that eats one-eyed, one-horned flying purple people	1 (11%)
A one-eyed, one-horned creature that eats flying purple people	2 (22%)
Marten	5 (55%)

Jellybeans are just little nuggets of cynicism.

In which Nathan hopes it will all work out.

This month went by really fast. If I's realized it was so late, I probably would have posted earlier. A lot has happened, though. Some of it interesting, most of it not so much.
I'm working on this whole KCACTF design competition thing still. Until this morning I was going to do an environmentalist Dr. Faustus, but now it looks like I might do Faustus with robots instead. Unless my professors are all "robots? really?" in which case I might go back, or try and mix the two. But I think I like the robot idea a lot. It's a much better metaphor for Faustus's bargain and the loss of his soul, though I'm not sure I like the moral as much. I'm kind of pro-computers, and I'm afraid this will come off as "COMPUTERS ARE EVIL". We'll have to see.
Tomorrow is my first official day as a Teaching Apprentice. I've already met my students though, and they seem like a pretty cool bunch. Except one who's a lunatic. I'm a little worried about her. She's trying to double major in Archeology and Neuroscience. And she can talk continuously for an entire twenty minute advising session, thereby preventing the person who was supposed to be advising from getting a word in edgewise. We're gonna have to work on that in class discussions. Fortunately I don't have to lead a discussion for a few weeks. I'm really concerned about the concept of me as a teacher. I'm not responsible or organized enough. Hopefully it'll work out.
I think that's my mantra for pretty much this entire year. Hopefully it'll work out. Every new responsibility I've taken on that I'm afraid of screwing up, every shifting social situation, every change in my relationship to the world, I can just add that phrase on to the end and it sums up my feelings on the matter. Either I'll come out of this year a much better prepared and well-rounded person, or I'll burn out, drop out of school, and become a homeless drug addict.
Speaking of drug addicts, I'm very excited about living in the chem free program. The first few days of living here have been really nice, and I'm looking forward to getting to know all these really cool people even better. I feel like the whole house thing is part of the college experience I've been missing out on living in dorms all the time. Though I'm sure I'll miss the social scene of the dorms a little. It'll work out though. Otherwise, there's always drugs.

Jellybeans are just little nuggets of cynicism.

"Well, I fear things I don't understand." "What? Why?" "I Don't KNOW!"

So I went home then came back home again, and I suppose I should tell you about the intervening events. Time spent in Indy had variable productivity. I basically started lazily moving things out of my room, throwing lots of old stuff away, packing other things into boxes, and generally getting ready for the point in the coming years at which I will no longer be coming back there to live. There was a garage sale involved wherein I made a small bit of cash and accidentally sold a bunch of books which may or may not be worth hundreds of dollars for $15. My justification: the guy was really annoying and that's the price of making it someone else's problem. I decided that making it someone else's problem was the purpose of having a garage sale anyway. Any money made is merely a bonus on top of whatever space you cleared out and however many things about which you need no longer worry, and spending it on explosives to use on whatever you didn't sell would be completely justified.
Another thing I did with my time is a handful of D&D. GenCon was fairly successful for me, I managed to sell my magic and pokemon cards and the remainder of my warhammer models. Thank you, Nathan, for your assistance in these transactions. I also ran an adventure with a bunch of people completely new to D&D, and they all seemed to enjoy it, so I'm rather proud of my ability to assemble an adventure. Jonah and I just purchased a bunch of miniatures this morning to add to the mini's we had Nate get for us at GenCon. Just a moment ago I was pondering about why the warforged(who bears an uncanny resemblance to Dr. Doom) is wearing pants. He's basically a robot, why does he wear pants? I guess it's kind of like the Discworld golem Gladys wearing a dress, despite not technically even having a gender.
So I'm back at school. The room isn't a total disaster, but it could certainly use work when I feel motivated to organize it. I really like the general set-up I worked out for it, but there are alternate versions that we may have to fall back on. We'll have to see how we live. Common Grounds itself needs a lot of work before it can officially open tomorrow night, but it's nothing that can't be done in the time we've got.
Jellybeans are just little nuggets of cynicism.

The title creature in "A One-Eyed, One-Horned Flying Purple People Eater" is...

A one-eyed, one-horned purple creature that flies and eats people	1 (11%)
An otherwise undescribed creature that eats one-eyed, one-horned flying purple people	1 (11%)
A one-eyed, one-horned creature that eats flying purple people	2 (22%)
Marten	5 (55%)