First floor: housewares, gents' ready-made suits, wigs and haberdashery, kitchenware, and food.
Fall quarter has started. It's busy, and starts very early--if I had no coffee maker, there would be no fall quarter for me.
I wake up at 5:30 to start my shower. I go back to sleep once I've turned it and the coffee maker on, because my shower takes half an hour for the water to heat up. I'm on the far corner--it happens, especially early in the morning.
At 6:00 I shower and get ready to make it to campus at 8:00. I either have four hours of vacuuming to look forward to, or ballad transcription. I don't mind either, actually. I'm really beginning to enjoy the solitude of my housekeeping job, and I'm at the Early Modern Centre (here on in known as the EMC) before anybody else, so I get to type in my secret entry code thing. It makes me feel special and secret-agent-y.
The ballad gig is easier than I thought. The only issues I have are the file locations, and that is pretty simple to work through once I got the hang of it. It's a lot of copy-paste-match size-erase. Basically a lot of the stuff I would do with my scanned drawings and inkings. I'm thinking of taking some home to work on when I don't want to read French post-structuralism for my literary criticism class.
I hate the French. I'm sorry, Elodie and Pierre, but I really do. Derrida is the devil.
I've been hanging out with Valerie a bit, and that's been fun. We get coffee a bunch and it make me feel like I have a better social life than just facebooking and playing Sims. As fulfilling as the control aspect of the Sims can be.
My poetry class is odd. I'm the only one who likes musty old poetry. Everyone else is a bunch of free-versifying beatniks. And I say this in the most affectionate of ways--I don't mind free verse. I just like utilising a structure to make meaning as well. The professor agrees somewhat on this point, so I hope that we won't have to wade through too much emo.
My assignment there for Thursday is to write a poem about a free-association I did about my brother. It should prove nostalgic. I am a bit concerned that my free association ended up being a little psychoanalytic though.
Νικομηδες is still distracting, though we should be spending some nice time together soon. Have I mentioned I love the fact that I'm an overachiever and went on my own to go learn Latin, only to have him be taking a class conveniently just around the same time I find myself needing someone to study with? Hmm.
There is, however, another nice prospect in my literary criticism course. He's a philosophy boy, and I shall call him from now on Πλατονιδες here. Brown hair, blue eyes, good jaw, nice nose, 5 o' clock shadow, average height, trim body, and killer smile. He makes drudging through Derrida tolerable.
Anyway, I'm sure I'll be putting my poetry assignments as well as my super exciting essays here soon. Just figured I needed an itinerary post as I hadn't done that in a while.
I wake up at 5:30 to start my shower. I go back to sleep once I've turned it and the coffee maker on, because my shower takes half an hour for the water to heat up. I'm on the far corner--it happens, especially early in the morning.
At 6:00 I shower and get ready to make it to campus at 8:00. I either have four hours of vacuuming to look forward to, or ballad transcription. I don't mind either, actually. I'm really beginning to enjoy the solitude of my housekeeping job, and I'm at the Early Modern Centre (here on in known as the EMC) before anybody else, so I get to type in my secret entry code thing. It makes me feel special and secret-agent-y.
The ballad gig is easier than I thought. The only issues I have are the file locations, and that is pretty simple to work through once I got the hang of it. It's a lot of copy-paste-match size-erase. Basically a lot of the stuff I would do with my scanned drawings and inkings. I'm thinking of taking some home to work on when I don't want to read French post-structuralism for my literary criticism class.
I hate the French. I'm sorry, Elodie and Pierre, but I really do. Derrida is the devil.
I've been hanging out with Valerie a bit, and that's been fun. We get coffee a bunch and it make me feel like I have a better social life than just facebooking and playing Sims. As fulfilling as the control aspect of the Sims can be.
My poetry class is odd. I'm the only one who likes musty old poetry. Everyone else is a bunch of free-versifying beatniks. And I say this in the most affectionate of ways--I don't mind free verse. I just like utilising a structure to make meaning as well. The professor agrees somewhat on this point, so I hope that we won't have to wade through too much emo.
My assignment there for Thursday is to write a poem about a free-association I did about my brother. It should prove nostalgic. I am a bit concerned that my free association ended up being a little psychoanalytic though.
Νικομηδες is still distracting, though we should be spending some nice time together soon. Have I mentioned I love the fact that I'm an overachiever and went on my own to go learn Latin, only to have him be taking a class conveniently just around the same time I find myself needing someone to study with? Hmm.
There is, however, another nice prospect in my literary criticism course. He's a philosophy boy, and I shall call him from now on Πλατονιδες here. Brown hair, blue eyes, good jaw, nice nose, 5 o' clock shadow, average height, trim body, and killer smile. He makes drudging through Derrida tolerable.
Anyway, I'm sure I'll be putting my poetry assignments as well as my super exciting essays here soon. Just figured I needed an itinerary post as I hadn't done that in a while.