Curiouser and curiouser
So, today I was in Chemistry, rifling through my notes and just generally feeling sort of nostalgic, when I drew my pen in fine heroic fashion and suddenly remembered how Brenna would always remark that I looked like I drawing my sword for a fight on test days. Calculators, similarly, were like automatic rifles. Anyway, my thoughts drifted and I starting imagining a duel for the mathematically inclined, namely an old-style western "draw your calculator" showdown. The soon-following illustration received the caption "The Fighting Engineers."
It was at this point that Carly, who usually sits next to me in Chemistry, leaned over and inquired what the heck I was drawing. I explained and she sort of stared at it for a few moments. She then confided to me that she had been wondering for a week why I was doodling in class every day, never seeming to pay attention or take notes. I assured her that I was indeed paying attention, and I only doodled illustrations when the professor's diction made me think of something. This, remarkably, happens often and is the origin of the Chicago gangster Spock illustration which reads "Logic does not seem to apply here," though the CHEMISTRY FOR PEACE above Linus Pauling is somewhat more obscure. And let's not even get into the "robbing Peter to pay Paul" cartoon. BReNNiCa has her hands full.
Feeling sort of strangely cheered that someone had noticed my drawings and that I have such fun memories to keep me entertained to begin with, I started putting to paper whatever I was thinking. As it so happened, today was one of my Tevye days, which is one of those days I wander through alternatively humming and singing Tevye's second monologue, the one which starts with "I can't believe my own ears." Now, a day or two ago when I was in a Tevye moment, I started thinking about Star Trek and without thinking changed "impossible" to "illogical." Today, my mind drifted back to that moment and sort of listening with one ear to the lecture and hearing the meter and melody in the other, I came up with a Star Trek version. From Spock's POV, naturally.
I can't believe my own ears.
Take shore leave? For what?
To run around in the grass?
Illogical.
At least with the doctor and captain,
They asked me; they heard me.
But now if I need it or not --
You'll order me.
What more do you require of me?
Proceed. Give word.
And round off my ears and debate the absurd!
Regulation! Mandatory rest leave is not for Vulcans!
This has never been changed!
One little time, I killed my captain --
And where will it end, where will it end?
Where will it end?
Looking at it fully for the first time, I have to ask myself how many people will actually understand this and why I don't know them. For the rest of the world, think of this like the LotR version of "My Favorite Things": something to keep one from going crazy when one has to sing the tune in endless repetition for half an hour to keep a child calm -- and with cool words for geeks.
(A/N: It occurs to me now that Nimoy actually sang Tevye for Fiddler once. Somehow, that makes this parody even more of a eyebrow raise.)
In slightly more real world news, our first game of the season is tomorrow! Yattai! Now, just to convince myself that 8 AM practice is not cruel and unusual. Small chance. Go Bulldogs!
Final thought of the day: I have decided that should I ever become famous for a work of literature or some other discipline, upon my death I shall be buried in a coffin ensconced by a rotating apparatus. In my will, I will leave directions for a machine to be constructed on the surface to rotate me at regular intervals. Alternatively, if I am independently wealthy as a result of such fame, I will provide a hand crank and job security for some honest young entrepreneur. In either case, there will be none of this nonsense regarding whether or not I am rolling in my grave. It will be a well-established fact. (Just think of the job experience. I would be dying to hire someone who could list "grave roller" in their former occupations. Within five years, I bet it would become the ultimate cool job on the market with extremely competitive position placement. Not to mention it would be a great conversation starter. Everyone would start talking the minute you responded "Roll graves" to the unavoidable "So what do you do for a living?" line. Man, forget hiring someone. I want that job for myself!)