when the night fills my song
When I got back to my room tonight, I thought I'd be in the mood to watch an epic love story (in the vein of Dr. Zhivago or The Far Pavilions), but I wasn't, so I watched Full House re-runs instead. Sometimes I wonder how much of my system of beliefs/morals has been derived from that show; I watched it growing up, in addition to lots of Disney movies. As a (partial) result, I had some very fixed (but now evolving) ideas of what constitutes good and bad behavior and what to expect from relationships, platonic and otherwise (the Facebook group "Disney Gave Me Unrealistic Expectations About Love" sums up my feelings about the latter). But life is so much messier than those tidy stories. People don't say everything they want to say, or do what they want to do; words are left unspoken; ends are unresolved; and the "good guys" don't prevail. After the film/episode ends, real life continues on. Does closure exist outside the realm of fiction?
Life has taken an interesting turn with Threepenny -- interesting in that my sleeping/working/eating/socializing hours have been redefined. My podcasts, which I usually listen to in the morning before class, have built up: I have 151 unlistened podcasts, and I feel really behind in current events, especially with all this post-election hubbub. It's 4 in the morning on a Saturday, and I'm doing laundry, and cleaning my room, which has devolved into a very hazardous environment. But, to be honest, I would probably be doing laundry anyway, because (a) I've run out of clean underwear and (b) I hate waiting for the machines on my floor to open up, so I tend to perform this chore at unusual hours. Instead of my usual piles of light and dark, I separated my laundry into four piles this time - light delicate, dark delicate, light regular, and dark regular. The last time I did laundry, the results were catastrophic (or dismal at least) -- a number of my lighter-colored garments emerged from the washer streaked with orange, yellow, and brown. I hate the washer on our floor; it smells terrible and is highly eccentric.
The length of my hair has been a hassle lately, especially with this colder weather. It takes so long to wash and dry, and it sheds everywhere. I think I'm going to cut it in January, as a sort of fresh start to the new year and semester; by then, it will probably also be long enough so that when I cut it, I can donate it. It's strange, because when I started growing my hair out during junior year, it was with the (very girly) intention of having enough hair for a particular updo for the senior prom, which I didn't even end up going to; instead of an ornament, it's more like a friend now.
My chemistry exam for this coming Monday has been postponed by a week, which means that I should study for it over Thanksgiving break, which I'm disinclined to do. If I could, I would probably go into hibernation about now, with my books, a cocoon of blankets and my current playlist and wake up sometime in January. I'm currently in two Orhan Pamuk novels, Snow and My Name Is Red (I'm absolutely enthralled with the first...more on it later), The Botany of Desire, Blade of Fortriu, The Looming Tower, and must now begin Madame Bovary for World Lit. I think this might make me a book whore; I can't commit to just one, and lately, I've only had snatches of time to read for pleasure, so I've been trying a little bit of everything. I'm flirting with the idea (among many others) of perhaps pursuing a career in the publishing world.
I find that I'm moving away from ideas (and standards) that I usually found myself leaning towards (or upholding). I'm still uncertain of who I am, and what I want to be (or at least evolve towards). My own capriciousness unsettles me, but then I remember that college is supposed to be a time of growth and self-discovery. So I think it's okay that I'm still a work-in-progress.
I have no idea why, but I think I want to see the new Bond movie, with Daniel Craig. I've never seen a Bond movie before, but this one somehow piques my curiousity.
I saw the Orion constellation earlier tonight, and I felt reassured somehow: perhaps as a vestigal reaction from the days when our ancestors relied upon the stars for guidance, and the sight of familiar stars meant that you were home.
Life has taken an interesting turn with Threepenny -- interesting in that my sleeping/working/eating/socializing hours have been redefined. My podcasts, which I usually listen to in the morning before class, have built up: I have 151 unlistened podcasts, and I feel really behind in current events, especially with all this post-election hubbub. It's 4 in the morning on a Saturday, and I'm doing laundry, and cleaning my room, which has devolved into a very hazardous environment. But, to be honest, I would probably be doing laundry anyway, because (a) I've run out of clean underwear and (b) I hate waiting for the machines on my floor to open up, so I tend to perform this chore at unusual hours. Instead of my usual piles of light and dark, I separated my laundry into four piles this time - light delicate, dark delicate, light regular, and dark regular. The last time I did laundry, the results were catastrophic (or dismal at least) -- a number of my lighter-colored garments emerged from the washer streaked with orange, yellow, and brown. I hate the washer on our floor; it smells terrible and is highly eccentric.
The length of my hair has been a hassle lately, especially with this colder weather. It takes so long to wash and dry, and it sheds everywhere. I think I'm going to cut it in January, as a sort of fresh start to the new year and semester; by then, it will probably also be long enough so that when I cut it, I can donate it. It's strange, because when I started growing my hair out during junior year, it was with the (very girly) intention of having enough hair for a particular updo for the senior prom, which I didn't even end up going to; instead of an ornament, it's more like a friend now.
My chemistry exam for this coming Monday has been postponed by a week, which means that I should study for it over Thanksgiving break, which I'm disinclined to do. If I could, I would probably go into hibernation about now, with my books, a cocoon of blankets and my current playlist and wake up sometime in January. I'm currently in two Orhan Pamuk novels, Snow and My Name Is Red (I'm absolutely enthralled with the first...more on it later), The Botany of Desire, Blade of Fortriu, The Looming Tower, and must now begin Madame Bovary for World Lit. I think this might make me a book whore; I can't commit to just one, and lately, I've only had snatches of time to read for pleasure, so I've been trying a little bit of everything. I'm flirting with the idea (among many others) of perhaps pursuing a career in the publishing world.
I find that I'm moving away from ideas (and standards) that I usually found myself leaning towards (or upholding). I'm still uncertain of who I am, and what I want to be (or at least evolve towards). My own capriciousness unsettles me, but then I remember that college is supposed to be a time of growth and self-discovery. So I think it's okay that I'm still a work-in-progress.
I have no idea why, but I think I want to see the new Bond movie, with Daniel Craig. I've never seen a Bond movie before, but this one somehow piques my curiousity.
I saw the Orion constellation earlier tonight, and I felt reassured somehow: perhaps as a vestigal reaction from the days when our ancestors relied upon the stars for guidance, and the sight of familiar stars meant that you were home.