she was a january girl
Friday, February 25, 2005
03:55 p.m.

A week ago, I left for Minnesota and The Big Gay Conference. I attended registration, lunch on your own, and supper on your own. In the five years since I last went to MBLGTACC in Saint Cloud, I've pretty much outgrown all the sessions. John was completely right when he said we were the most attractive delegation there. At any rate, it's the last MBLGTACC I'll go to (knock wood.

So, now I am sick. It seems like everyone except John has gotten sick. Immunity must come with the business school. I've been grubbing about my place and Jen's, feeling "doozy," drinking Sprite, and watching musicals. Being sick sucks because I can't concentrate enough to read and it hurts to walk around. Plus, I always feel kind of sweaty-gross, even if I just took a shower. Fevers are not pleasant. Jen and I have a mini-break planned this weekend, so I need to start feeling better so that I can enjoy our trip.

I finally finished watched Harry Potter & The Chamber of Secrets after about 2 months of trying. Now it's on to the Prisoner of Azkaban. My viola goal for this semester is to successfully play Hedwig's Theme. We'll see how that goes. I remember a lot more that I thought I did, though I still sound frightful.

I think I need to go lie down again.

driving in my saab, on my way to Ireland
it's been a long time, it's been a long time
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
09:47 a.m.

I am up. And, I might add, already back from my 2-hour seminar. It was a stellar class, wherein we discussed how folks are chosen for religious leadership and whether the criteria might include psychological "weirdness." Guest Professor? A+. Waking up when it's dark out to see Guest Professor? D-. Of course, I don't like to throw off the delicate balance of The Medication Cycle so I didn't take my morning drug cocktail until after seminar. Colette in an academic situation sans Ritalin? Yuck.

I got Tori Amos' new album, The Beekeeper, this weekend. I am newly addicted to the song "Ireland" because it is somewhat upbeat and involves driving. Tori Amos occupies a very specific space in my heart, a place that I don't always appreciate. She is weird, I must admit. However, when I meet folks who appreciate Tori, I know they will be fast friends.

Valentine's Day. I received several valentines, mostly from people with whom I work. My grandma and girlfriend also sent me cards. This morning, shuffling home after seminar, I found a red carnation in my mailbox! I love V-Day hearts/pink/red. However, the holiday itself doesn't really appeal to me. Most of my girlfriends have had February birthdays and compounded with mine on January 28th, Valentine's Day is just burnout on the present-giving. Of course, there is part of me that wishes, when passing the front desk covered in fancy FTD bouquets, that someone sent me flowers. But then... I'd have to keep the flowers watered and we just know I'd have gross dessicated flower carcasses in my room right up until Spring Break.

Well. I don't have class until the Count's lecture on Slovakian Jews at 1pm, so it's off to my starry, flannelly bed to cuddle with Panda until lunchtime.

since i met you
this small town hasn't got room
for my big feelings
Sunday, February 6, 2005
07:12 p.m.

Yesterday, I took the bus out to Westgate to hang about the toystore, the bookstore, and craft market. I went to Puffin's to pick up a kite and moon over the new Playmobil. They had a fabulous Valentine display up and I ended up buying some little trinkets and candy. Of course, I bought my favorite sort of candy (non-pareil blackberry/ raspberry gummies) and made myself feel quite ill. I spent the rest of the evening complaining and lying on the couch. Today, I feel better, but still not really up to being active.

Jen played her violin for me the other day; it was wonderful. As previously noted, all of the women with whom I've had serious relationships play violin. So does my mother. I have a violinist cousin who goes to a music conservatory as well. I was born with next to no musical talent, despite a ballet dancer for a dad and a violinist for a mom. Somehow, I made it through years of ballet despite this obvious detriment. As a middle-schooler, I was selected for a prestigious concert choir, probably based on the fact that I know how music works on paper, if not in actuality. I like to sing in church and around the house, but again, I'm horrid at it. At 3 years, I asked to play cello when I saw a girl at Montessori playing. My parents readily complied and shuttled me off to lessons until I was 9- when I switched to viola and started middle school. I stopped playing a few years later; my mom took my viola away because I wouldn't practice. I'd purposefully leave my viola at home when I had lessons at school (or at school when I needed to practice at home). I never learned to tune very well, but I knew my bowing technique! (Thanks Suzuki!)

So, now, I'm thinking of playing again. Not seriously, obviously. It's been almost a decade since I played, so I probably remember nothing. Plausibly, I can afford private lessons and if I stay in school next year, I could play in orchestra or something. It's just a musing at this point; I'm hardly disciplined enough to play.

So yeah. Next year? No clue. Lately, I've been seriously considering taking another year here just for fun. I have a double major in Religious Studies and Anthro, but if I graduate this semester, I will be 4 credits shy of my RS degree. I'll have my certificate, but not a BA, in Religious Studies. I am absolutely sure I'll delay grad school until Fall '06, but I don't know what I'll do next year. At this point, I'm seriously considering staying here through the fall semester of this year and spending the spring of 2006 in Europe with family friends.

I definitely did not adequately prepare for growing up. Yikes.

if you would tell me i'm the only one that you love
life could be a dream sweetheart
Friday, February 4, 2005
06:20 p.m.

Friday comes with a great weekend-y feeling (even though I technically finish my week on Thursdays at 2:15), especially when the weather is grand. This afternoon, when I finally left Jen's apartment, it was almost 50 degrees! Of course, that meant that everything was melty. As I rode my bike to the BLC, the 80 Bus passed me, coating me, the Safe Zone bag, my bag, and my red shoes with thick, creamy, latte-colored mud. YUCK! Once I arrived at the BLC, I took off my shoes- my socks were so muddy that I could see the criss-cross mudlines from my shoes! One of the housefellows lent me some sweatpants and C sat with me while I attempted to wipe my bag clean. Blehhh!

Last night, my mentor and her husband took me and Jen out for dinner at Biaggi's. It was fun to see them again; they gave me a fleece we got at REI last November and meant to return in favor of the blue Mountain Hardwear one. I had my favorite entrée, but I was caught off-guard when the waitress asked what I wanted and forgot to say 'NO GOAT CHEESE ANYWHERE NEAR MY FOOD!' I utterly loathe goat cheese.

For some reason, dating Jen has made me realize that I'm a fairly picky eater. Here are a few things I will not eat/drink: whole or 2% milk, eggs (unless cooked by George's GF Renée, with basil and cheese), any animal that lived in the water, eggplants (Thai or otherwise), pork, lamb, veal, string beans, goat cheese (goat milk is okay), tvarog, kefir, chicken livers, kidney, cilantro, Fritos, sushi, or rhubarb. I love eating and have gained nearly 20 pounds since Jen arrived. Lately, I have been eating pesto, pierogies, and pistachio ice cream with great gusto.

So. I turned 22 last Friday. Jen hosted a little "party" for me and baked a carrot cake. There was Truth or Dare (which would be more aptly called DGS Interrogates with Meaningful Questions) and Spin the Bottle. Things ended around midnight when we took Jen to the hospital because she was so drunked she was breathing oddly and puking everywhere. At the hospital, I got a little badge for being her parter (Code E on the hospital computer) and listened to a police officer ask a man questions about driving into a tree. The guy broke his feet and they had swelled up- he tried to convince the police officer that he had gout to escape being ticketed! Hah!

You know what? Some people are absolutely wretched even when they are gorgeous.

See the marketplace in old Algiers
Send me photographs and souvenirs
Thursday, February 3, 2005
12:44 p.m.

Letters are among my favorite things in the world. I love writing letters and making stationery (and buying stationery...). As such, I adore Nick Bantock's Griffin and Sabine series. The six books are a series of correspondence between two couples, none of whom you are ever precisely sure actually exist. I had my birthday last week (more on that later) and the generous gifts of Diana and Eric (a.k.a. darling husband) allowed me to buy the absolutely gorgeous boxed set of the first trilogy. Whee! Since then, I've forced not only Jen, but also Laura The Everlasting Crush and Flaggheim (one of my profs) to entertain reading them.

Oddly enough, I've lost track of time again (funny that...) and must cut this entry short to run off to my lecture w/ the Count Khazanov.