"you won't wake up - you're not dreaming - this is all real"
So many things I've wanted to write about here the last few days, but I've had no time to do it. Really, I should be working on my Hamlet paper right now, but I'm not feeling like my thesis is any good, despite the fact my professor signed off on it, which in turn means that I have to keep said topic. ugh... please let tomorrow be productive and that I have some major revelations about it. Usually once I get my thesis, the paper writes itself, but this doesn't appear to be happening and that's what concerns me.
Unspeakably out of character for me-- I've actually been watching baseball this month. Usually, I moan about it's inevitable presence on our television at family parties and promptly leave the room. But I watched many of the Cardinals/Astros and Red Sox/Yankees games... and got really into it. I didn't watch as much of the World Series because it was so sad. It didn't even seem like the Cardinals were trying. And quite honestly, I was secretly happy when the Red Sox won (although, it would have been nice if they hadn't won so effortlessly). My brothers would have disowned me if I'd confessed that... I've only recently really found out about the sort of insane devotion that Red Sox fans have for their team, but I felt that they deserved to win after so many generations of frustrated obsessives. Saddest of all, I became interested in it because of two famous obsessives, one named Damon (not Johnny) and the other Meyers... I found myself intrigued by the unfailing devotion. Granted, despite my previous dislike of the game, I've always found it endearing how passionate boys are about baseball. I always loved how excited Mike was when he talked about it...
Speaking of which, the segment on Weekend Update was great. "The most positive aspect of the Red Sox's championship is that it will finally allow our own Seth Meyers to overcome the psychological block that has kept him a 13-year-old boy in a man's body. So throw away your baseball cards, Seth. Today you are a man."
Cat-like reflexes or Catholic reflexes-- our new catch phrase. I'd said the former, but Lindsay heard the latter and we thought it was the funniest thing ever. "You cannot touch me; I have Catholic reflexes!"
A year ago today, I was in Edinburgh at this tiny bar... We'd just arrived at our hostel, the night before our highland tour and this Australian girl invited us to a halloween party. I didn't have anything that would work as a costume, so I just wore these hair sticks with black feathers tethered on the ends and Kathy wore her devil horned hair clips-- she loved those things; wore them often and without occassion. Kathy was sweet; she was the youngest of our group and very flashy... very lost as well. We arrived and got ourselves a drink and watched the horrible Karaoke in the back. I noticed this group of Italian boys, all dressed in drag, fumbling around, laughing loudly. One of whom looked over and caught sight of my black feathers. Entranced, he came over to me and pulled one of the sticks out of my hair, smiled coyly, placed it in his mouth and wandered off. I was laughing and a little concerned at the same time that I wouldn't get it back;) We moved through the crowd and I bumped into him. He took it out of his mouth and returned it to its place... I said, "Thank you," and he replied something in Italian and proceded to kiss me on the cheek. He looked at me smiling and immediately turned and danced away...
Unspeakably out of character for me-- I've actually been watching baseball this month. Usually, I moan about it's inevitable presence on our television at family parties and promptly leave the room. But I watched many of the Cardinals/Astros and Red Sox/Yankees games... and got really into it. I didn't watch as much of the World Series because it was so sad. It didn't even seem like the Cardinals were trying. And quite honestly, I was secretly happy when the Red Sox won (although, it would have been nice if they hadn't won so effortlessly). My brothers would have disowned me if I'd confessed that... I've only recently really found out about the sort of insane devotion that Red Sox fans have for their team, but I felt that they deserved to win after so many generations of frustrated obsessives. Saddest of all, I became interested in it because of two famous obsessives, one named Damon (not Johnny) and the other Meyers... I found myself intrigued by the unfailing devotion. Granted, despite my previous dislike of the game, I've always found it endearing how passionate boys are about baseball. I always loved how excited Mike was when he talked about it...
Speaking of which, the segment on Weekend Update was great. "The most positive aspect of the Red Sox's championship is that it will finally allow our own Seth Meyers to overcome the psychological block that has kept him a 13-year-old boy in a man's body. So throw away your baseball cards, Seth. Today you are a man."
Cat-like reflexes or Catholic reflexes-- our new catch phrase. I'd said the former, but Lindsay heard the latter and we thought it was the funniest thing ever. "You cannot touch me; I have Catholic reflexes!"
A year ago today, I was in Edinburgh at this tiny bar... We'd just arrived at our hostel, the night before our highland tour and this Australian girl invited us to a halloween party. I didn't have anything that would work as a costume, so I just wore these hair sticks with black feathers tethered on the ends and Kathy wore her devil horned hair clips-- she loved those things; wore them often and without occassion. Kathy was sweet; she was the youngest of our group and very flashy... very lost as well. We arrived and got ourselves a drink and watched the horrible Karaoke in the back. I noticed this group of Italian boys, all dressed in drag, fumbling around, laughing loudly. One of whom looked over and caught sight of my black feathers. Entranced, he came over to me and pulled one of the sticks out of my hair, smiled coyly, placed it in his mouth and wandered off. I was laughing and a little concerned at the same time that I wouldn't get it back;) We moved through the crowd and I bumped into him. He took it out of his mouth and returned it to its place... I said, "Thank you," and he replied something in Italian and proceded to kiss me on the cheek. He looked at me smiling and immediately turned and danced away...