Subject: from Latin subjectus one under authority & subjectum subject of a proposition
The full draft of the 570 is due Friday. Seven days and counting.
Back to just me in my apartment/schedule. It's all good, though, since I've got Scrabble now. I play two-handed games against myself, and don't bother keeping score; this afternoon, though, I had to break out some paper to commemorate the following:
To start the game, Left drew G E T E O O I; Right drew E B E R U T D. It took forever to pick an opening play for Left, because seriously, that hand sucked. Eventually I settled on "get" for... four, and a double-word score. w00t! Eight points!
Right played "rebutted" for 13 points and the 50-point bonus for using all the tiles. Talk about 0wnage.
New sets come with an insert titled "10 Ways to Become an Instant Scrabble Game Expert". Skipping blithely over the obvious objection - who says "Scrabble Game"? People who drive "Honda Cars"? - allow me to share #7, "Q Without U". The Scrabble dictionary includes the following examples: qat, qaid, qoph, faqir, qanat, tranq, qindar, qintar, qwerty, sheqel, qindarka, and sheqalim (through "qwerty," simple s-plurals are also acceptable). I'm going to guess right now that LJ doesn't recognize any of those. Anyway, I haven't looked them up, but I'm doing my best to memorize them, so all comers are hereby warned.
Point 6, on the other hand, is "Bingo's," and honestly you'd think if anyone knew PLURALS DON'T TAKE APOSTROPHES, it'd be "Scrabble Game Experts".
Do I digress? No, not really. The prerequisites are not fulfilled.
Yesterday I woke up not having done my readings for NCR yet; I had four hours (max) to read about 400 pages. I didn't, clearly, but I acquitted myself decently having read about 160. I'm getting better at this grad student thing, eh? Then I went to see my advisor. First, we had to talk about the 570, because that's all anyone talks about nowadays. All you really need to know is that, as I mentioned, I have seven days remaining. Also, Bushnell continues to like the topic, a thought he expressed - in true professor fashion - by linking it forward to my hypothetical dissertation. Professors' pick-up lines are probably all variations on, "Hey, have you thought about what kind of window treatments we might want to put in the kids' nursery yet?" Uh, NO, because I'm trying to finish this year first, thanks.
On the other hand, it's nice that he sees worth in the project. Someday, looking back, maybe I will, too. Also, he approved my selection of a minor. I shall study, to a lesser extent, the history of science! I will not allow that entire half of my mind to atrophy! It'll be cool, I think, and best of all: in English.
Afterwards I walked over to the business complex, to find the OkCupidteer (another NU grad student) who'd suggested we meet for lunch. We went downtown and wound up at Mt. Everest, aka (recent visitors) the Nepalese place. Yay, naan. And spinach, of course. First time I've met an internet person face-to-face, as Peter (y'all remember The Spark, right? He's e-known me since then, and never seen so much as a picture) could attest. It was not, however, the first time the conversation has been diverted to tentacle-rape hentai. Anyway, such was yesterday's adventure. If you're thinking of leaving comments, you might want to know: 1) he found this journal, and will possibly read them, and 2) based on yesterday's AIM logs, there is nothing original to be said on this topic. Yes, yes, we're all very shocked. We're laughing inside and out loud. WE ARE TYPING IN CAPS. Consider it noted.1
I went back to campus and read Marx in the library until my eyes quite literally crossed. Not surprising: the French revolutions have that effect on me anyway, and if you throw in the commies... it only took a couple of hours. In the words of Nina, blargh. Since I was on-campus anyway, and it was a Thursday, I thought I'd hang around in the sun until 7 and catch the Slavic movie of the week (I've already missed two). I didn't count on its being quite chilly, and I was really surprised when time began passing at half its normal rate. When the first 20 minutes took three-quarters of an hour to elapse, I surrendered, shouldered my bag and went home. That's three films missed, and Lord knows next week's is out. For some reason, since I started not going I've seen the darker-haired presenter (two Slavic Studies grads [I assume] select and run them) two or three times; not that we've ever acknowledged one another, but as "the one kid who came every week" I still feel just mildly guilty.
Today is cold and rainy, so I didn't go to the grocery store as planned. That's okay: tomorrow I can get food and do laundry. It will be super-fun and productive. I did, however, go for a walk Wednesday, when it was merely cloudy and cold as butts (for April). I added an extra loop to the northern end of the route (the part of Wilmette by the lake is exceptionally cute, in a swanky way), and managed to see the Baha'i Temple from some other angles, as well as wander across the top of the Purple line. And I mean that literally; evidently, way up there the El runs at street level, meaning there are Train Crossing lights and guard bars and everything at the intersections. Keep in mind a train must pass about every 10 minutes going one direction or another. I am extremely glad not to live in any of the houses nearest to it. I think I would go mad.
In the last seven days I've received 3 catalogues from Ross-Simons and two from L.L. Bean. RS kinda makes sense, since I do in fact buy things from them; LLB, on the other hand, has only ever sold me a coat, which I later returned. I admire their dedication, but I fear they must be rather lonely.
Tuesday I made preliminary reservations to spend July and August in Dresden, sprech'ing the Deutsch. Scenic, bombed-out Dresden... the key is that in eastern Germany, fewer locals know English, so I have some small chance of actually needing to use German. Incredible, I know. Also, fuck you, exchange rate.
I've been thinking about the Beatles conversation, Skrmish. First of all, it can't be Radiohead not because I don't like them, but because I don't have a real opinion on them one way or another, because I can't think of a single song of theirs. Precisely because my taste in music is so mainstream, if I can't think of any Radiohead hits, they can't be the current/future-retrospective Beatles. Also, the best songs on "Rubber Soul" are the first two, i.e. "Drive My Car" and "Norwegian Wood". Still not as fun as "I Saw Her Standing There" or "Can't Buy Me Love" or the supremely silly "She Loves You", in my opinion. Yay for young and enthusiastic.
And one more thing: standing outside after class on Tuesday, Erin-Marie, Meghan and I got into a bodyfat conversation (sizes, oh, 2, 12, and 16, respectively). Meghan has a strong preference for extremely thin boys, whom she rather alarmingly refers to as "Belsen babies". It's British slang, apparently, from the name of the concentration camp. E-M got her to basically admit it's a maternal-instinct thing (don't try to make that mental leap. It hurts). I was too busy being amused and horrified to say anything, but I can tell you I strongly disagree with that last point. And "Belsen babies"? Jesus.
I'm going to go play more Scrabble. Sure, it's procrastinating, but it feels less desperate than the internet.
1. We (i.e. "you") are also delusional, so cram it.
Back to just me in my apartment/schedule. It's all good, though, since I've got Scrabble now. I play two-handed games against myself, and don't bother keeping score; this afternoon, though, I had to break out some paper to commemorate the following:
To start the game, Left drew G E T E O O I; Right drew E B E R U T D. It took forever to pick an opening play for Left, because seriously, that hand sucked. Eventually I settled on "get" for... four, and a double-word score. w00t! Eight points!
Right played "rebutted" for 13 points and the 50-point bonus for using all the tiles. Talk about 0wnage.
New sets come with an insert titled "10 Ways to Become an Instant Scrabble Game Expert". Skipping blithely over the obvious objection - who says "Scrabble Game"? People who drive "Honda Cars"? - allow me to share #7, "Q Without U". The Scrabble dictionary includes the following examples: qat, qaid, qoph, faqir, qanat, tranq, qindar, qintar, qwerty, sheqel, qindarka, and sheqalim (through "qwerty," simple s-plurals are also acceptable). I'm going to guess right now that LJ doesn't recognize any of those. Anyway, I haven't looked them up, but I'm doing my best to memorize them, so all comers are hereby warned.
Point 6, on the other hand, is "Bingo's," and honestly you'd think if anyone knew PLURALS DON'T TAKE APOSTROPHES, it'd be "Scrabble Game Experts".
Do I digress? No, not really. The prerequisites are not fulfilled.
Yesterday I woke up not having done my readings for NCR yet; I had four hours (max) to read about 400 pages. I didn't, clearly, but I acquitted myself decently having read about 160. I'm getting better at this grad student thing, eh? Then I went to see my advisor. First, we had to talk about the 570, because that's all anyone talks about nowadays. All you really need to know is that, as I mentioned, I have seven days remaining. Also, Bushnell continues to like the topic, a thought he expressed - in true professor fashion - by linking it forward to my hypothetical dissertation. Professors' pick-up lines are probably all variations on, "Hey, have you thought about what kind of window treatments we might want to put in the kids' nursery yet?" Uh, NO, because I'm trying to finish this year first, thanks.
On the other hand, it's nice that he sees worth in the project. Someday, looking back, maybe I will, too. Also, he approved my selection of a minor. I shall study, to a lesser extent, the history of science! I will not allow that entire half of my mind to atrophy! It'll be cool, I think, and best of all: in English.
Afterwards I walked over to the business complex, to find the OkCupidteer (another NU grad student) who'd suggested we meet for lunch. We went downtown and wound up at Mt. Everest, aka (recent visitors) the Nepalese place. Yay, naan. And spinach, of course. First time I've met an internet person face-to-face, as Peter (y'all remember The Spark, right? He's e-known me since then, and never seen so much as a picture) could attest. It was not, however, the first time the conversation has been diverted to tentacle-rape hentai. Anyway, such was yesterday's adventure. If you're thinking of leaving comments, you might want to know: 1) he found this journal, and will possibly read them, and 2) based on yesterday's AIM logs, there is nothing original to be said on this topic. Yes, yes, we're all very shocked. We're laughing inside and out loud. WE ARE TYPING IN CAPS. Consider it noted.1
I went back to campus and read Marx in the library until my eyes quite literally crossed. Not surprising: the French revolutions have that effect on me anyway, and if you throw in the commies... it only took a couple of hours. In the words of Nina, blargh. Since I was on-campus anyway, and it was a Thursday, I thought I'd hang around in the sun until 7 and catch the Slavic movie of the week (I've already missed two). I didn't count on its being quite chilly, and I was really surprised when time began passing at half its normal rate. When the first 20 minutes took three-quarters of an hour to elapse, I surrendered, shouldered my bag and went home. That's three films missed, and Lord knows next week's is out. For some reason, since I started not going I've seen the darker-haired presenter (two Slavic Studies grads [I assume] select and run them) two or three times; not that we've ever acknowledged one another, but as "the one kid who came every week" I still feel just mildly guilty.
Today is cold and rainy, so I didn't go to the grocery store as planned. That's okay: tomorrow I can get food and do laundry. It will be super-fun and productive. I did, however, go for a walk Wednesday, when it was merely cloudy and cold as butts (for April). I added an extra loop to the northern end of the route (the part of Wilmette by the lake is exceptionally cute, in a swanky way), and managed to see the Baha'i Temple from some other angles, as well as wander across the top of the Purple line. And I mean that literally; evidently, way up there the El runs at street level, meaning there are Train Crossing lights and guard bars and everything at the intersections. Keep in mind a train must pass about every 10 minutes going one direction or another. I am extremely glad not to live in any of the houses nearest to it. I think I would go mad.
In the last seven days I've received 3 catalogues from Ross-Simons and two from L.L. Bean. RS kinda makes sense, since I do in fact buy things from them; LLB, on the other hand, has only ever sold me a coat, which I later returned. I admire their dedication, but I fear they must be rather lonely.
Tuesday I made preliminary reservations to spend July and August in Dresden, sprech'ing the Deutsch. Scenic, bombed-out Dresden... the key is that in eastern Germany, fewer locals know English, so I have some small chance of actually needing to use German. Incredible, I know. Also, fuck you, exchange rate.
I've been thinking about the Beatles conversation, Skrmish. First of all, it can't be Radiohead not because I don't like them, but because I don't have a real opinion on them one way or another, because I can't think of a single song of theirs. Precisely because my taste in music is so mainstream, if I can't think of any Radiohead hits, they can't be the current/future-retrospective Beatles. Also, the best songs on "Rubber Soul" are the first two, i.e. "Drive My Car" and "Norwegian Wood". Still not as fun as "I Saw Her Standing There" or "Can't Buy Me Love" or the supremely silly "She Loves You", in my opinion. Yay for young and enthusiastic.
And one more thing: standing outside after class on Tuesday, Erin-Marie, Meghan and I got into a bodyfat conversation (sizes, oh, 2, 12, and 16, respectively). Meghan has a strong preference for extremely thin boys, whom she rather alarmingly refers to as "Belsen babies". It's British slang, apparently, from the name of the concentration camp. E-M got her to basically admit it's a maternal-instinct thing (don't try to make that mental leap. It hurts). I was too busy being amused and horrified to say anything, but I can tell you I strongly disagree with that last point. And "Belsen babies"? Jesus.
I'm going to go play more Scrabble. Sure, it's procrastinating, but it feels less desperate than the internet.
1. We (i.e. "you") are also delusional, so cram it.