Tarot cards
My brothers are both playing KOTOR, so that's what I've been doing the past couple days . . . basically watching, helping with riddles, and making a nuisance of myself. Oh, and playing cards. I played poker with my brother's friends last night and wound up 70 cents up by the end of the night . . . typical.
This is not the most spellbinding week of my life so far.
So I have . . . three weeks before I have to officially begin my life as a grownup. I'm not sure what it'll look like yet. Or what I'm going to do with all the frustrated intellectualism that's left over. I'm not eager to stay in school forever, but I don't want to be a lifelong denizen of the cubicle and devotee of the bottom line, either. I guess this is the part where they tell you you can't have it both ways.
This is an inhospitable century for any kind of hybrid lifestyle. What's wrong with the salon culture, where the starving artists get fed and the bourgeosie gets a little culture injection?
Which reminds me, when I was in New York last week I hung out at the Museum of Modern Art for a few hours. MoMA was pretty high on my list of must-sees, mostly because I really loved the Tate Modern in London and I thought it would be a similar sort of experience. Not so. Although they did have some very interesting stuff, it felt much more museum-y and restrictive, and really what I like about modern art is that you can choose how to feel about it yourself without making a huge statement about Other Things. Don't get me wrong, I like the old stuff and all. But frankly I'm so bored of ogling the Impressionists I could deconstruct some things myself. And what I forgot about MoMA is that "modern" really means the last 150 years, and that gets us (yay!) Impressionists. And besides that, it just didn't seem as . . . irreverent. Ah well. I'm too picky, I guess.
Anyway, anyone who wishes to tell my fortune may leave a comment.
This is not the most spellbinding week of my life so far.
So I have . . . three weeks before I have to officially begin my life as a grownup. I'm not sure what it'll look like yet. Or what I'm going to do with all the frustrated intellectualism that's left over. I'm not eager to stay in school forever, but I don't want to be a lifelong denizen of the cubicle and devotee of the bottom line, either. I guess this is the part where they tell you you can't have it both ways.
This is an inhospitable century for any kind of hybrid lifestyle. What's wrong with the salon culture, where the starving artists get fed and the bourgeosie gets a little culture injection?
Which reminds me, when I was in New York last week I hung out at the Museum of Modern Art for a few hours. MoMA was pretty high on my list of must-sees, mostly because I really loved the Tate Modern in London and I thought it would be a similar sort of experience. Not so. Although they did have some very interesting stuff, it felt much more museum-y and restrictive, and really what I like about modern art is that you can choose how to feel about it yourself without making a huge statement about Other Things. Don't get me wrong, I like the old stuff and all. But frankly I'm so bored of ogling the Impressionists I could deconstruct some things myself. And what I forgot about MoMA is that "modern" really means the last 150 years, and that gets us (yay!) Impressionists. And besides that, it just didn't seem as . . . irreverent. Ah well. I'm too picky, I guess.
Anyway, anyone who wishes to tell my fortune may leave a comment.