Japanese Test

I got my Japanese test back. I thought I had done really poorly, but I got an A. I realize how much I like getting good grades, if only to hold it over everyone else's heads. Silently, anyway.

Looking Cool in the Gym, Among Other Things

Yesterday, I received an email about Writer's Guild. We usually meet on Tuesdays, but our brave and true leader was not sure if we could, since it is a reading recess, which is a day where few read, most do nothing, and some go to work out their schedules for next year. I find myself in a pickle (American colloquialism) as I have so many things I want to do and so little time to do them.

Where does that come from anyway? Hold on just a moment while I grab by trusty board and surf the web. A-ha!

http://www.phrases.org.uk/meanings/196000.html

Meaning

In a quandary or some other difficult position.

Origin

This alludes to the pickling liquid made from brines and vinegar which is used to preserve food, and presumably to the imagined difficult of being stuck in such. The phrase was known in Dutch by 1561 - ' in de pekel zitten' meaning 'to be in a pickle'.

There are a few references to ill pickles and this pickle etc. in print in the late 16th century, but Shakespeare appears to be the first to use in a pickle, in The Tempest, 1611:

ALONSO:
And Trinculo is reeling ripe: where should they
Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em?
How camest thou in this pickle?

TRINCULO:
I have been in such a pickle since I
saw you last that, I fear me, will never out of
my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing.

Well, whaddaya know? Not an American colloquialism after all.

What was I saying? Oh, yes. Pickle. You see, next year I want to spend spring semester in England. I have wanted to study there since the eighth grade, and now finally my dream can be fulfilled, realized, and made flesh, so to speak. Being my junior year, this would be my only opportunity to do it. However, this conflicts with the Festival of Faith and Writing that they hold here every two years. They bring in known speakers (C.S. Lewis is pending) and publishing houses to speak of their experiences and give workshops. Being a self-professed and hopefully interesting writer, I would very much like to attend this three day festival. But I would be in England! What is a girl to do? Perhaps I could fly out for the festival and fly back? I would, of course, have to find a way to finance my excursions across the world. I am a regular Magellan, albeit with less honorable purposes. Magellan explored. I conquer.

My philosophy professor did not like the fact that I used "wherein" in one of my essays. He said it was too archaic. When I asked a English professor what he thought of it, he said to use it in the final exam. Twice.

I am twenty-two now.

I am working on my painting for my Philosophy of the Arts class. I will keep you updated on my progress.

I have so much reading to do.

Ode to Reading

Oh, books, what joys have you brought me?
I search but can find none
You smirk and sneer and boast of your great content,
Of your long treatises, essays, and peculiar facts
But you know nothing
They are but words printed on your pages
And soon they shall be but words
Printed on my brain
And so I smile in your direction
And do not open you at all
Not so funny anymore
Is it?

I'm not a poet. I'm a writer. The two are obviously exclusive.

I went to the gym today. I felt really cool running on the treadmill. It's hard to pull off grace and elegance when you pant and arms flail. But I do it marvelously. They keep a squirt bottle and a rag on each treadmill to allow you to clean it off after you are done. I, as usual, take the bottle, squirt some cleaner on the rag, and wipe it down. However, I have managed (several times) to hit the person running next to me. They always jerk and look surprised, touching the sudden wet spot on their side. I apologize and beat a hasty retreat.

But the day is not done, and I have many plans of world domination to concoct and homework to do. Being evil is a full time job. You know what they say, "No rest for the wicked."

Sincerely,

the Mango-Eater

In Honor of My Professor

bosch, v.

to gleefully deceive and/or confuse someone, preferably by use of French-Latinate words

Insanity Lurks around the Corner

Abandon hope, all ye who enter here.

I feel as if I should start this entry with something universal and altruistic, but I am far too tired to think of anything so brilliant. My mind is filled with thoughts of the future. The immediate, of course, is most pressing. Seized by some morbid curiosity, I--in a poor lapse of judgement--wrote down every project, paper, presentation, daily reading, and test I had to take before the end of the year. It was an ominously long list of things to do and feats to accomplish. Even my unflagging optimism faltered, and the color drained from my face. My heart thundered within my chest, and my brain beat itself against my skull.

History
Finish reading Isami's House
- Write four-page book report
Book report presentation
Daily reading - two (30 page) chapters a week
- Fill out study sheets that go with chapters
Twelve-page term paper due 23 April

British Literature
Read Faerie Queene
Write close-reading paper on section in Faerie Queene
Read Wyatt and Surrey
- Fill out question sheet
Four to five-page term paper

History of the English Language
Write six-page term paper on Singlish
Daily reading
Three-minute presentation on English language
Presentation on word "glamour"

Japanese
Do Japanese homework

Philosophy
Finish painting for term project
Write three to four-page paper on term project
Weekly reading - three to four chapters
- Write summary on chapters: hand in by 12 noon Wednesday

Theatre
Work in concessions on nights of performances

After I allowed myself this moment of insanity, I decided that the very best course of action was to completely detach any form of useful or intelligent thought from the everyday. I would simply sever any intellectual tendencies I have had in the past, and look forward to a blissful, carefree, thoughtless future. I will simply let myself be carried down into the valleys of ignorance, where I will safely rest my head upon the quiet contempt of knowledge. I will not think. I will not know. I will not think ahead. Instead--for my own mental well-being--I will only think in terms of single days. If I were to think ahead to the vast amount of paperwork in my near future, it is very possible that I might not succeed in getting out of bed at all.

For those of you who want to know, I have already (thankfully) finished my philosophy mid-term, my English close-reading paper, my history book report and presentation, my English language history class three-minute presentation (on rhyming slang) and one on the word 'glamour,' and I have started on my philosophy term project painting, researched my six-page paper on Singlish, and written a page on my twelve-page history paper.


I realize self-pity is overrated. There are others who have it worse. There are others who cannot rise to the challenge, but fall like wounded soldiers to the wayside. No. I will not give in--I will not bow my head to circumstance. Beware, ye who tread in my direction. Surviving is for the weak. I will not just live, but conquer all.

Sincerely,
the Almighty Troll