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Bizarre Development: Am college graduate! So freaky! Wore the cap and gown, marched through campus, the whole nine. Have moved back home to ponder my marvelous lack of a job or set career path. I'm trying to be Zen and believe that everything will work out, while internally freaking out.

Actually, the truth is, I'm still so much enjoying the not having to write papers/go to classes thing, along with the not having to scrape together my every last dime to go to the grocery store now that the graduation gifts have come in, that the post-graduate panic has yet to set in.

It will all work out! Right? Right. Right!

In other news: The Orlando Cat is out of The Bag. I was planning on telling the Parental Units that I was going down to Orlando with Annie just for the heck of it. Post-college fun trip for me, pre-Ranger School trip for her. Wild wacky adventures! In...Orlando! Because that's where all the wild and crazy young adults go on vacation.

Anyway, I've been skating around the issue of why, exactly, we chose Orlando on the weekend of the 27th in July until today when after hours of intense questioning (read: a thirty second exchange in our air conditioned kitchen) it was discovered that,

Mom: Is NSYNC in Orlando? Are you going down there to see NSYNC?

Me: I'm not saying anything!

Mom: You girls should have a good time.

I wish I could be a cool young twenty-something and not be obsessed with JC's every movement and not, you know, be going down to the other side of the Continental United States to watch him play a basketball game. Am so very pathetic.

Speaking of The Patheticness of Jess: Went to a used bookstore yesterday and stocked up on cheesy young adult books. Love them SO MUCH! Just finished In Real Life I'm Just Kate, a compelling novel about a seventeen year old girl who is forced to take a role on a soap opera after her actor father loses his job so that the family won't lose their house. Drama! Intrigue! Angst! Big, big fun. The book was dedicated to Denise Alexander, Genie Francis, and Anthony Geary, among others. Those who know who those three are will know why I had to check the book out.

Am now torn about which new purchase I should read next. One option: Save The Last Dance For Me, a book based on -- get this -- DIRTY DANCING! I could not BELIEVE it when I found it! I was alternately ecstatic (Dude! Further adventures in the Dirty Dancing Universe!) and angry because dude, how could I have missed these when I was nine and obsessed with the movie? Then I looked them over and now I suspect they were only sold in Canada, the U.K., and the like, and so I was less disappointed in my former self for not finding it earlier. The other option? You Can Never Go Home Again, chosen because of its tag line: "He's hot, he's wild...and he's dead." So, which will it be? The tale of a girl with an attic haunted by a 1950s smartmouthed biker? Or further adventures in the Dirty Dancing universe?

Just opened up the Dirty Dancing book and the decision is made: Baby's back at Kellerman's? Her parents have broken up?? Zee drama!! Must read more.

Maybe it would be easier for me to find a job/career if I let my taste in literature advance beyond a sixth grade reading level. But then again, if reading bad young adult novels from the early/mid 1980s is wrong, I don't want to be right!
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Tomorrow's my last day of classes of my college career. Then just two take-home exams and I graduate! So freaky!

I keep getting all sentimental. Today I was on break from my sociology class and wandered into the classroom next door and peered in, got all choked up because it was where I'd had a lot of my history classes. I stood there in the middle of the room, looked at the board and the chairs and the lectern and was all "I may never see this again," spinning around to look at the room from all angles ("There's my seat from my class on the Sixties," etc.). Ah, memories.

And then I looked around one more time and realized that of course I would see this room again because it was the room I have my women's history class in every Tuesday and Thursday, including tomorrow morning. So then I got all embarrassed and ran next door and just sat at my desk until break was over, afraid I'd do more stupid things, possibly with audiences.

In other news: My room is truly mind-blowing in its messiness. I want to go to bed but there's so much crap there that the energy it would take to clear it off and climb up there is really rather intimidating. My method of room maintenance has become crap rearrangement with no actual cleaning. Am Gross Disgusting Person!

Must go read about Elizabeth Cady Stanton. I know you're all jealous. Don't hide it.
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It takes a special kind of moron to lock him or herself out on his/her apartment balcony twice in the space of a few weeks. A moron like me.

Well, not just me. It was a team effort -- Annie was there for both incidents, but at least she was drunk the first time when she was the one who slammed the door. Tonight it was me, stone-cold sober, who shut the door behind us with a flourish swiftly followed by open-mouthed horror when I realized that none of my keys worked in the locked door. Horror!

Blessedly, Jen came back after we'd been out there only an hour or so, and we did have NSYNC to discuss and Diet Coke to drink, so it was ok. Mind you, my can of Diet Coke was my third or fourth of the night, so there was some concern over potential bodily function emergencies, but Jen returned in time. (Thank God)

But really! How does one person DO such a thing?? I shouldn't be allowed out of the house without careful supervision. The balcony isn't even safe from the idiocy of Jessica! There is no safe haven from my moronicness!

Look at that! Moronicness. I don't even think that's a word!

Speaking of moronicness, it's a good thing I'm graduating and, therefore, my sessions tutoring the professor from China are almost over since she's getting to areas of English I don't fully understand and therefore can't come close to explaining. How does one use the subjunctive? I don't even know what the subjunctive is! Why do some words have articles and some don't? No idea! I'm helpful with simple things, like when she comes in and asks me about the big white fabric building in front of the library ("tent"), but beyond that? Not so much.

Stupid! Me!

Jun. 1st, 2001 02:08 am
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So I went to the registrar on Tuesday, all jazzed and confident in my classes selection, first in line for classes for the first time ever (cause I'm going to be a Big Bad Senior next year), only to discover that one of my classes has been canceled! Dammit!

The worst part was that it was listed as canceled on one of the handouts we got with the Fall 2001 schedule, and I would have known of the cancellation had I looked at the stupid sheet. I felt like a huge dumbass. I was totally that kid in elementary school who always lost points for not following directions. Anyway, , I sat there next to the irate registrar lady (and I guess I'd be irate too if I had to deal with idiot college students like myself) and picked out another class, but I think I want to switch it. But I don't know what to. And I have to do it tomorrow or wait until the fall and have to do the whole hunt-down-signatures-thing.

I think I'll get in bed with the fall schedule and pick something. Something without a writing requirement, though. Ooh, maybe another women's studies class.

Decisions, decisions . . .

Oh, on a less Jess-is-a-Spaz note, saw two fab movies in the last few days. One, The Kid (or Disney's The Kid, whateva), with Bruce Willis, was just so sweet. I completely fell in love with it. And the other, Keeping the Faith, cracked me up! Love Ben Stiller! And Ed Norton! I really, really got a kick out of it, which surprised me since I hadn't heard that many good things about it. To be honest, I hadn't heard much of anything about it. It was a perfect semi-sappy, funny, romantic comedy with a twist. (He's a Rabbi! He's a Priest! They're best friends -- and they're in love with the same girl! Wackiness ensues.)

Later homies --
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Have been by advisor's office twice already today, and am gearing up for a third trip. I hate pre-registering. Hate it. I always forget about it till the last minute and end up desperately hunting someone down to sign my form.

Hate it with a particular passion this term because it forces me to consider next year, my senior year, and the undergraduate thesis that goes with it. In order to graduate I have to write a 60-80 page thesis, and then do an oral defense. Ugh ugh. I'm very scared. Happy thoughts, though. I will do fine. Must remember the power of positive thinking.

Day has been underwhelming thus far. Started off by oversleeping because I had set my alarm for PM instead of AM (dumbass me), and had to back out of a commitment because of it. The president of cocoa house had asked me (at about 1AM last night) to drive to a developing place a half hour away to get slide film developed. And sit and wait while it got done. I was decidedly not thrilled. Perhaps I subconsciously set my alarm incorrectly so that I wouldn't have to do it. We may never know.

All I do in this thing is whine about cocoa house. So why don't I continue? :) Our awards banquet is Wednesday, and we discovered over the weekend that the college double-booked the on campus space and we're being booted out. Stupid Reslife gets the space. Hate reslife already! Hate it more now! Argh! So I spent most of yesterday calling up off-campus places and having the following conversation:

Banquet Place: Good afternoon, thank you for calling [Insert Banquet Place Name].

Me: Hi. [Insert poorly expressed, rambly sob story about evil college kicking us out]

BP: (sympathetic) That's awful.

Me: I know. So, I was wondering -- is there any chance you'd have banquet space for seventy people on Wednesday?

BP: (disbelieving) This Wednesday?

Me: Yes. Oh, and also, we can only pay $650 because that's how much it cost on campus, and that's the amount we're approved for. So we might have to ask you to donate some services.


Me: Maybe $700?

Needless to say, the local eateries aren't exactly clamoring to have us. Oh well. We're hoping the student forum will move and let us host the banquet thingy where they usually hold their meetings.

Oops, gotta go. Time to stalk Professor F. some more.

One piece!

May. 27th, 2001 12:06 am
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I'm back from Washington and (as the subject line indicates) in one piece! Very exciting.

It was odd to be on a field trippish thing in college. The last time I went on an excursion with a large group of people was high school, when they still kind of herded you around like sheep. This time, not so much. Our professor guide person ended up letting three quarters of the group get on the wrong Metro Line at the airport, which made for an adventurous couple stops where we all tried to figure out where the Hell we were and how, exactly, we were to get to the Holocaust Museum. We made it in the end arrived a whopping hour and a half before the museum opened, which we spent standing against the wall of the museum in the rain. Random security guy kept walking by us screaming at us to stay in single file or he would (and I quote)"be your worst nightmare if you don't!" It was kind of bizarre. Because rarely, if ever, would I describe my worst nightmare to be an over zealous museum security guy.

Anyhoot, the museum was good, as was lunch, and the rest of the day. My legs and feet were very, very tired, though, due to all the walking and the fact that I had given them a whopping workout last night with the hike thing. I think my muscles are in shock.

Anyway, I fear I'm going to keel over dead asleep right here at the keyboard, so I'll end this journal entry now.
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For all of you out there who have been biting your nails, unable to focus all day ("Did she get it done? Did she? I HAVE TO KNOW!"), I did end up getting my paper written by class this afternoon. I ended up having to mess with the font to make sure it was long enough, but it got done with zero minutes to spare. I ended up running out the door at the time class was starting and actually really ran part of the way across campus. Which is kind of momentous. I rarely, if ever, run, unless you count when I'm being juvenille (racing friends for shotgun, chasing a four year old around a backyard) -- it's not often that I run for desire to get somewhere I need to be quickly. In my jaunt across campus, I discovered several things:

(1) Running with a backpack is difficult.

(2) I am incredibly out of shape (well, knew that already, but it reinforced it).

(3) I suck at it.

I'm glad that I'm not required to do it more often. Though I should be more active. Oh well.

Watched Ed and The West Wing tonight, enjoyed both. Ed is cute and The West Wing was moving. I got all sappy and teary several times. Love that show! I'm also sad that it was the finale, though I'll get to catch up on repeats.

Isn't this fascinating stuff? I'm going to end this before I cause all readers to fall into a boredom-induced coma. Later!


May. 16th, 2001 03:03 am
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Just went downstairs to get my little Diet Pepsi (which I had really jazzed myself up for -- such is the sorry state of my life), only to discover the door to the lounge where the soda machine lives decidedly closed. Dammit.

See, normally I'd just walk in. Maybe knock. But last week a friend came in and told me a horror story about how a friend of hers did the same thing at another lounge in the building only to walk in on a couple mid-coitus. Now I'm skittish about bursting into any closed-door lounge. Bastards! I want my soda.

Anyway, on a lighter note: I called to make a hair appointment the other day, and when trying to arrange a time my hairdresser told me to come in fifteen minutes earlier than the time I'd asked for because (and I quote from my often-inaccurate about specifics but generally good about gist memory) "I've got someone coming in after you and I want to make sure I give you a full forty-five minutes." My first reaction was -- Is my hair *that* bad? Are my friends, family, and acquaintances calling her up, telling her that it has just gone too far -- that she had to do something, and that when I came in, she would need to set aside extra time because I would need a massive overhaul? I mean, okay, so it's been a while (three months! eek!), but it's not like I've got roots growing out. I'm too wimpy to dye my hair.

Anyway. Am going to go work on paper, despite lack of carbonated beverage. NOW!


May. 11th, 2001 04:48 pm
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Presentation is over, praise God (to quote odd high school religion teacher)! It's a wonderful feeling. Stress is vanished. Embarrassment at a minimum. Brain is, for now, sufficiently able to block any "Should've said" thought processes. Very enjoyable.

I'm currently reading the Bridget Jones sequel and I fear it's coming through in these journal entries. oh well. Are subjects really *that* important to sentences?

Must think of Mother's Day gifts for mother and grandmother. Both are impossibly difficult to shop for. Also, must drag brother to mall with me, as he has yet to buy our mother a birthday present, and I refuse to let him just sign off on my card and gift again. He's been doing that since I was twelve, and I'm drawing the line.

Not that my mom really cares. He's a good kid and I guess that's the best Mother's Day/Birthday present a parent (or a sister) could ask for. I think it's just that he'll be going to college soon and will be semi-grown up and I won't be able to boss him around anymore, so I'm kind of desperately looking for ways to do it now. But I'm a nice sister, really I am. Most of the time.

Well, I'm off to finish Bridget Jones. That book is mad addictive.
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I waited far too long to do laundry, and am now faced with a decidedly limited supply of clothing to choose from for my presentation thingy today. Especially limited is my bra selection, so that I'm left wearing The Most Uncomfortable One, dammit. It got caught in the dryer once and something now pokes me in the side whenever I wear it. Dammit. But it's either that one or the one with the straps that won't stay up, and due to my limited shirt supply, I think I must wear a sleeveless shirt. Hence the uncomfortable (but strapless) bra.

Isn't this fascinating?

So, Professor moderating talk e-mailed me questions she may fire at me today, which is (a) good, because I can prepare, and (b) bad, because now I can envision perfectly my utter failure when faced with questions.

Moderator: Jessica, could you please explain the feminist influences that may have led to Betty Friedan's writing The Feminine Mystique?

Me: To be quite honest, I couldn't. Next?

The thing is, I know the answers, it's just that I've never been good with the whole verbal-under-pressure thing.

Must stop whining about this. Right. Now.


On the up side, Gilmore Girls last night was decidedly adorable, and I've successfully gotten my roommate addicted to it (she's also, happily, displaying some interest in Angel -- woo!). Also, said roommate left me a gift today in honor of my presentation (candy -- she knows me well!), along with a note addressed "To My Favorite Democratic and Feminist Friend", which I enjoyed. What's really funny was that I signed on and got an e-mail from my aunt who called me her niece the political/femenist activist, and said that she was living vicariously through me. Since I feared she had gone over to the Dark Side (Republicanism. Kidding, to all those Republicans out there! Haha! Funny!) since marrying her stock broker husband, it was nice to see that she's still a feminist at her core.

Anyway, must go finish getting dressed. Later, all.
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So, tomorrow I have to present my paper in front of many people I don't know and some people I do and whose opinions I value. My near-paralyzing fear of public speaking is rearing its ugly head again as I prepare (or, to be more accurate, spend massive amounts of time online instead of preparing), and I'm trying to squash it by not listening.

Also, they put the wrong year on my little nametag and in the booklet thingy, which, for some reason, bothers me. I'm a Junior! Not a Sophomore! Junior! Only one year left! Almost done! Though part of me wishes I could go back to being a Sophomore so that the spectre of Real Life would be further off.

Anyway. Am not thinking about Education and the Feminine Ideal in The Feminine Mystique. Instead, am going to think about Angel. Or Buffy. Or perhaps I'll watch Monday's Roswell, still on tape and unviewed.

Decisions, decisions. For now, I'm just going to continue consuming massive quantities of Reeses Pieces and killing time online before I have to go to work.
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Got my midterm from last week back -- the one I thought I had bombed -- and found out that I got an A minus! Booyeah! I'm excited. It's always a nice surprise to do better than you had expected. Man, this is so cool. I spent most of the past couple days figuring out how, if I got a C on this midterm, I could hike my average up to a high B by the end of the class, but now I don't have to worry so much. Very exciting.

Also, I have nothing to do tonight, which is very exciting. No meetings, no tutoring, no social obligations -- it's very nice. I can just bum out around here, watch the West Wing, and generally be a slacker. Good times. Really, I'm such an exciting person.

Perhaps I'll work on my resume tonight. That's what I should do. Probably won't, though. I'm going to try to have a stress-free evening. No thoughts of life plans! No thoughts of paper presentation on Friday! Only happy, lazy thoughts!

Ooh, and dinner thoughts. Almost time to go. It's cheese lasagna night, which makes me very happy.

Slight confession: every time I fill out this little extra-info thing at the bottom of this journal-filler-outer thing, I feel like I should quickly change CDs or Winamp playlist files so that my dorky music taste will not be revealed. But I must be my true self! I enjoy Michael Jackson's Billie Jean! I sometimes get teary during Wind Beneath My Wings! James Taylor rocks my world!

Off to do another e-mail check before dinner. Later, all.
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Because half-assed would be too generous a description of my research proposal. There is much suckage in them thar five pages. Oh well. It's only ten percent of my grade, I keep reminding myself. Ten percent. I can totally make that up.

On antoher note: my roommate rocks. The rockage that is my roommate is truly remarkable. Really, someone should write songs about her.

Late for class!
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Woo! The budget is complete! All 21 pages of it. (okay, so like nine pages of it is the club roster and our Constitution, but the rest of it involved actual work) Life is good.

I now have to write up my research proposal for my seminar -- James Madison and the Bill of Rights: Political Move or Ideological Shift? Exciting stuff!

Will probably be back later with more procrastinaty blather.
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If my monitor can comprehend what I'm typing, I hereby order it to obey my subject line! It's dying, slowly, growing dimmer and dimmer by the day. Does anyone know what monitors go for nowadays? The one I've got now is a Compaq MV400. I'd kill for a laptop, but my finances won't stand for it. Maybe someone will come into some wealth and give me a super-extravagant birthday present come June 11. Wouldn't that be nice?

So, the housing lottery is over. Woo! We got an apartment with four singles, which is mad cool, since we're all going to be writing a thesis, and it'll be nice to have our own space. Even though the bedrooms are kind of small. But my own room! Exciting! Very cool.

I have a bigass headache, so I'm going to go self-medicate and then haul butt over to the dining hall.
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I have Dumbass Chemistry in twenty minutes, have yet to dry my hair, and what am I doing? Playing with livejournal.

It's evil! Addictively evil! The worst kind.

Long day ahead. I hate long days. The up side of said long day: by the end of it, I'll have a living space for next year. Housing lottery is at 4:30 -- woo! May not get a single as I had hoped, but I will definitely get an apartment, which is cool, even if I do have to share a room. My roommate's really cool anyway, so it's no big deal.

Watched Roswell last night and my reaction: eh. Kind of stopped caring. Not good.

Ooh! Must go! Will be late for class and get dirty look from professor, which I hate!
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Check it out, emluv, right in the little "Friends" part of my user profile. I'm excited.

I shouldn't be writing this as I have class in, oh, forty minutes, and haven't done any of today's reading. And I have a midterm on Wednesday. Ah! I suck.

And yes, you read correctly: a midterm. I'm at one of those wacky trimester schools, so while the rest of the world is taking finals, I'm only just reaching halftime. Big fun.

I am now contemplating whether to even glance at the reading or just fly blind.

I'm edging more towards flying blind. I think I'll go stalk some more people on livejournal before class. Later, all.
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So, my roommate and I had this cool Hillary 2000 poster, complete with Gore/Lieberman 2000 stickers (very hard to come by in New York, as they knew they had the state won when they decided to run), on our door for a long time. It gave our door character, we thought, as we have been, so far, too lazy to decorate our door as other people have, with inspirational/funny quotes or pictures, though we've been planning to. Anyway, we had this poster, and then it disappeared and we were both very sad.

Weeks pass.

This Tuesday, Joanna is walking down the hallway to the girls' bathroom, looks into the men's room on her way (why, exactly, I'm not sure. I'll have to ask her about that later), and discovers -- lo and behold! -- our Hillary poster, poised above one of the men's toilets, complete with a sign saying "Right where she belongs". Who did this, I'm not sure. I know of one for-sure Republican male on our hall, but he seems far too nice to steal our sign. Perhaps his smelly roommate, methinks. Regardless, the sign is in there and Jo and I are alternately (1) happy, because we can get the sign back, (2) amused, and (3) puzzled as to retribution. I have discovered that I am not the devious, criminal mastermind one would wish for in a situation like this. The only solution I could come up with is replacing the sign with one saying "Rick Lazio: Unemployed in Downstate New York, Right Where He Belongs" but I find that a little mean. He's a nice guy, Rick Lazio, or so I've heard, and I don't really wish him to be unemployed.

It would be easier if she had ended up running against Giuliani (whose name I can never spell). He I would have no trouble being mean to.

If there's anyone out there reading this, we're open to suggestions. Please?

Moving right along.

It's Saturday -- wohoo! -- and I have just emerged from a lovely midday shower. I overslept this morning and had to run across campus decidedly unwashed and skanky to set up the space for an event we were hosting for the kids a group I'm in tutor. It was fun. Dining services gave us mad food, the AV guy was really nice, the kids liked the movie, and seemed to enjoy just hanging out in the room afterwards. That may have been due less to the company and more to the foozball tables upstairs. Regardless, it was good. We watched Fern Gully, in honor of the environment, but the event had been so rushed and kind of under-prepared that we didn't have any activity to do with them afterwards, like talking about the environment or the rainforest. I just hope that some of the "Don't Kill Trees! Respect Nature!" message seeped through. A lot of them recycled their soda cans afterwards -- a good sign, right?

Am planning to go home for the evening, which will be nice. I do like living locally, especially at the end of the year. Quarters get close, people get annoying, and tensions run high. A nice trip to Casa Family is just the fix I need, I think.

Oh, and I get to do my laundry for free there. Also a plus.

I now have a yen to see Fern Gully II. I'm a sucker for sequels. Probably sucks, right? I mean, Fern Gully was nice, but not quite a cinematic masterpiece. Maybe it'll be like Star Wars, where the second flick is better than the first.

Wild Saturday night, here I come!
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Just returned from local grocery store with $70 of purchases in tow. Am slightly annoyed because the so-called Great Savings I'm supposed to get with their little blue card that tracks my purchases and makes me feel like someone out of 1984 only amounted to about a buck fifty. Oh well. Who wants privacy anyway?

$70 in food/supplies was not for me, dorm-trapped college student, but for the kids of a club I'm involved with. Now I must go to our student activities office, fill out a form, probably make a few mistakes and get yelled at by Scary Donna, reply with embarrassingly ass-kissing E-mail, then finally, in a week, get cash back. Until then, I'll have to live off of the ten dollars I have left and my roommate's kindness. (Wonderful girl, that Joanna. Just marvelous. And I say that with no consideration for the fact that she may be reading this)

Well, must go. I'm off to roomie's mom's house for yummy, yummy dinner. Woo! No dorm food!


So . . .

Apr. 21st, 2001 12:21 am
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Last night I'm all high and mighty about my classmates in my Dumbass Chemistry class, and what do I do today? Exactly the behavior I claimed to despise. I'm an awful person. Awful awful awful.

But really. The class is boring! And I don't have a watch! And my roommate and good friend is sitting in front of me in class and if she writes a note on the margin of her notebook (say, something like "Someday we're all going to blow up" as our prof pours one mysterious substance into another in front of the class) just so if I tilt my head a little to the right I can read it, what am I *supposed* to do? I must read it! And giggle! Argh. But, I swear, I really did try to pay attention . And I was very discreet about the note-reading. There was only a little bit of whispering.

There's nothing like being knocked off of your high horse.

Anyway, other than that, good day. Went to see Bridget Jones with above-mentioned roommate, had a great time, am still pathetically obsessed with said movie and one of its stars, Colin Firth.


He's dreamy.

Anyway, I'm off to watch Speed. Quality flick. I now so wish I had invested in some Colin Firth movies long ago, so that I wouldn't have to wait until tomorrow to get to the library and borrow Pride and Prejudice and sigh over him some more.

Off I go.


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