All Souls
Yesterday, Molly and I woke for the 8:15 mass at the Cathedral, and luckily it turned out to be the one the Cathedral school attended, i.e., the kids participated with lectoring and singing and so forth; it was ultra cute and Molly's now convicted she ought to open a Catholic orphanage.
Today was very nice weather-wise; we did some homework on the lower part of the hill (sitting upon a big oriental looking quilt) until it got too windy and cold. I love it here, I do.
I intend to switch my major from Philosophy to English Literature; I can't help myself. I hate identity problems and I love 'Beowulf'.
I gave a speech today on the Irish Easter Rising of 1916 for my Communications class; I've found that I enjoy speaking like that in front of a class, just not for an allotted amount of time on an allotted day and with no chance of exchange. In other words, I'd enjoy the prof. style (or at least the style my professors take).
I have this idea that when my Logic professor writes the form of a standard contradiction on the board he is going after the Western Church: he always uses R&~R, and he's very much Orthodox. I've taken it upon myself to use C&~C in my quizzes.
I'll be voting for Chris Bell on the 7th. I watched the debate: Kinky doesn't know much (and honestly, he has become such a character (take the damn hat off during the debate)), Grandma was just painful to watch, our beloved incumbent Good Hair declined to participate in the other five debates that were supposed to happen and then after this one that he finally agrees to, he snuck out the back of the venue before the press could interview him like they did the others: his people stayed behind, however, to declare an Orwellian 'decisive victory' and so forth. So, I urge my Texans to consider Bell, please, for governor. As Jake Bernstein at the Texas Observer asks, Why the Bell Not?
Molly's a bit ill and I wish she weren't; please pray for her.
"The rain surrounded the whole cabin with its enormous virginal myth, a whole world of meaning, of secrecy, of silence, of rumor. Think of it: all that speech pouring down, selling nothing, judging nobody, drenching the thick mulch of dead leaves, soaking the trees, filling the gullies and crannies of the wood with water, washing out the places where men have stripped the hillside!" - Thomas Merton in Raids on the Unspeakable
Today was very nice weather-wise; we did some homework on the lower part of the hill (sitting upon a big oriental looking quilt) until it got too windy and cold. I love it here, I do.
I intend to switch my major from Philosophy to English Literature; I can't help myself. I hate identity problems and I love 'Beowulf'.
I gave a speech today on the Irish Easter Rising of 1916 for my Communications class; I've found that I enjoy speaking like that in front of a class, just not for an allotted amount of time on an allotted day and with no chance of exchange. In other words, I'd enjoy the prof. style (or at least the style my professors take).
I have this idea that when my Logic professor writes the form of a standard contradiction on the board he is going after the Western Church: he always uses R&~R, and he's very much Orthodox. I've taken it upon myself to use C&~C in my quizzes.
I'll be voting for Chris Bell on the 7th. I watched the debate: Kinky doesn't know much (and honestly, he has become such a character (take the damn hat off during the debate)), Grandma was just painful to watch, our beloved incumbent Good Hair declined to participate in the other five debates that were supposed to happen and then after this one that he finally agrees to, he snuck out the back of the venue before the press could interview him like they did the others: his people stayed behind, however, to declare an Orwellian 'decisive victory' and so forth. So, I urge my Texans to consider Bell, please, for governor. As Jake Bernstein at the Texas Observer asks, Why the Bell Not?
Molly's a bit ill and I wish she weren't; please pray for her.
"The rain surrounded the whole cabin with its enormous virginal myth, a whole world of meaning, of secrecy, of silence, of rumor. Think of it: all that speech pouring down, selling nothing, judging nobody, drenching the thick mulch of dead leaves, soaking the trees, filling the gullies and crannies of the wood with water, washing out the places where men have stripped the hillside!" - Thomas Merton in Raids on the Unspeakable