when will this loneliness be over?
On the placebos this week for my estrogen and so last night, I felt sort of run-down, even though I'm having a relatively light period. It's still got the bloating and the tiredness I usually get, just lighter, and I think it will end soon.
Mostly, it was just the dauntingness of college confronting me. And the weight/fitness thing - I left that community I joined because I wasn't doing anything and it didn't feel right. They were a little too bubbly, anyway, all ROCK UR BODY!!!!!!1 HOW IS UR BODY ROCKING TODAY?????????/ and you know I just don't do that shit.
Someday I'll make it up to the HPER building. Someday.
Theatre 101 makes me glad to go to class. It's weird, but it does. I think it's my favorite class already, because we're just up and doing shit and it's all communal and everyone's uninhibited. It's tons of fun and I never thought I'd enjoy acting, but I've lost all the stage fright I ever had - I went up first on the machine game today, all alone in the center of the stage, making gibbon noises and waving my arms until someone came up to add to the machine. Did I explain that game? There's not much to it... basically, someone starts with an action and a motion and a second person comes in and interacts with that person's motion and makes a sound of their own, maybe with a different rhythm. By the time the entire class of 50-some people joins, it's just chaotic as fuck. We played it in small groups and did performances of that, too, and that was fantastically great. I laugh so much in there and I'm just not worried about how I do in it, because I enjoy being there.
That said, I need a monologue by Friday. I only have to have one chosen, with a copy I can bring to class. Any suggestions? It has to be a person similar to me - female, 20ish. I don't know WHY, but it does.
I listened to Muse between classes - I didn't see anyone I know today because I was going back and forth on the west end of campus with no time to go anywhere else. Dear good lord in all of heaven, I love Muse. This band. Seriously. I want your little inbred spiky-haired blue-eyed piano prodigious children, Matt Bellamy. Can't. Get. Enough. Why am I the only person I know who is this fucking ridiculous and thirteen years old about bands? I cannot shake the habit of throwing my entire soul into music/musicians.
Anywayyy... it really says something that I can listen to my music, write to Chesh, scrawl notes, and pay enough attention to a lecture that I can call out the answers to my dry-as-a-bone astronomy lecturer's (he doesn't teach so much as talk) questions. I had no idea the class was this basic. Granted, I have forgotten some shit, like exactly why the moon does what it does, but I get the general gist of it all from my would-be astronomer days (when I was 12 - my other aspiration at the time was to become the new world chess champion - if I had a cock I would have been beaten bloody every day). I'll leave that class at that, because NOTHING HAPPENS. It is dull as paint drying. Hence the music and letter-writing!
I had my first form & theory class today. Ho. Lee. Fuck. Ing. God. Shittyoldmanpoet is not teaching anything with form OR theory: he is teaching Freestyle Talking 101. 2 solid hours of this guy making weird and sometimes crude jokes and telling stories that trailed off into nothing - literally, he would just start mumbling and then whispering and then the volume would come back up as he launched into something else. He was thumbing through a textbook, but it must have been the book of crazy people learnin' because I have NO FUCKING IDEA what he was talking about at all. Sometimes he said things like 'Shakespeare' and he would randomly read sonnets and portions of poems and then he would start talking about ... something completely different. I have no idea what the hell I'm supposed to do for these 2 hours of him just talking. He doesn't really INVOLVE the rest of us - it's almost like he talks without knowledge of our presence, except he seems to expect laughter at the ends of his jokes. I drew all over one page of my notebook, flipped it and wrote a poem, then started rewriting a scene with some of my queer boys in the back. And I was bored, but I was far more confused. I just felt like I walked into an alternate dimension where nothing makes sense. It's a 4000-level course, so maybe courses just quit reality around 3000. I couldn't tell you.
For that class, I must write weekly journal entries based on what we read, and I have to read vast sections of a dull lit book in order to do this. And that's 40% of the grade. The other 60% is a 2000-4000 word paper that's either a critical analysis of the crap we read, or else a personal narrative. It's sort of... bad either way. I hate analyses so I may just dive into yet another ridiculous personal narrative, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. I don't have that class until the 11th because of sweet blessed Labor Day.
Until then, I have plenty of other shit to do (id est: reading and more reading - 113 pages due for Native American lit tomorrow and another chapter for oral lit and I need more abbreviations for these classes). Jess out.
J.
Mostly, it was just the dauntingness of college confronting me. And the weight/fitness thing - I left that community I joined because I wasn't doing anything and it didn't feel right. They were a little too bubbly, anyway, all ROCK UR BODY!!!!!!1 HOW IS UR BODY ROCKING TODAY?????????/ and you know I just don't do that shit.
Someday I'll make it up to the HPER building. Someday.
Theatre 101 makes me glad to go to class. It's weird, but it does. I think it's my favorite class already, because we're just up and doing shit and it's all communal and everyone's uninhibited. It's tons of fun and I never thought I'd enjoy acting, but I've lost all the stage fright I ever had - I went up first on the machine game today, all alone in the center of the stage, making gibbon noises and waving my arms until someone came up to add to the machine. Did I explain that game? There's not much to it... basically, someone starts with an action and a motion and a second person comes in and interacts with that person's motion and makes a sound of their own, maybe with a different rhythm. By the time the entire class of 50-some people joins, it's just chaotic as fuck. We played it in small groups and did performances of that, too, and that was fantastically great. I laugh so much in there and I'm just not worried about how I do in it, because I enjoy being there.
That said, I need a monologue by Friday. I only have to have one chosen, with a copy I can bring to class. Any suggestions? It has to be a person similar to me - female, 20ish. I don't know WHY, but it does.
I listened to Muse between classes - I didn't see anyone I know today because I was going back and forth on the west end of campus with no time to go anywhere else. Dear good lord in all of heaven, I love Muse. This band. Seriously. I want your little inbred spiky-haired blue-eyed piano prodigious children, Matt Bellamy. Can't. Get. Enough. Why am I the only person I know who is this fucking ridiculous and thirteen years old about bands? I cannot shake the habit of throwing my entire soul into music/musicians.
Anywayyy... it really says something that I can listen to my music, write to Chesh, scrawl notes, and pay enough attention to a lecture that I can call out the answers to my dry-as-a-bone astronomy lecturer's (he doesn't teach so much as talk) questions. I had no idea the class was this basic. Granted, I have forgotten some shit, like exactly why the moon does what it does, but I get the general gist of it all from my would-be astronomer days (when I was 12 - my other aspiration at the time was to become the new world chess champion - if I had a cock I would have been beaten bloody every day). I'll leave that class at that, because NOTHING HAPPENS. It is dull as paint drying. Hence the music and letter-writing!
I had my first form & theory class today. Ho. Lee. Fuck. Ing. God. Shittyoldmanpoet is not teaching anything with form OR theory: he is teaching Freestyle Talking 101. 2 solid hours of this guy making weird and sometimes crude jokes and telling stories that trailed off into nothing - literally, he would just start mumbling and then whispering and then the volume would come back up as he launched into something else. He was thumbing through a textbook, but it must have been the book of crazy people learnin' because I have NO FUCKING IDEA what he was talking about at all. Sometimes he said things like 'Shakespeare' and he would randomly read sonnets and portions of poems and then he would start talking about ... something completely different. I have no idea what the hell I'm supposed to do for these 2 hours of him just talking. He doesn't really INVOLVE the rest of us - it's almost like he talks without knowledge of our presence, except he seems to expect laughter at the ends of his jokes. I drew all over one page of my notebook, flipped it and wrote a poem, then started rewriting a scene with some of my queer boys in the back. And I was bored, but I was far more confused. I just felt like I walked into an alternate dimension where nothing makes sense. It's a 4000-level course, so maybe courses just quit reality around 3000. I couldn't tell you.
For that class, I must write weekly journal entries based on what we read, and I have to read vast sections of a dull lit book in order to do this. And that's 40% of the grade. The other 60% is a 2000-4000 word paper that's either a critical analysis of the crap we read, or else a personal narrative. It's sort of... bad either way. I hate analyses so I may just dive into yet another ridiculous personal narrative, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. I don't have that class until the 11th because of sweet blessed Labor Day.
Until then, I have plenty of other shit to do (id est: reading and more reading - 113 pages due for Native American lit tomorrow and another chapter for oral lit and I need more abbreviations for these classes). Jess out.
J.