So last night I accidently fell asleep in the lounge upstairs. About 4:00 a.m. I'm woken up by the couch grumbling beneath me. Since I was less than fully cognizant, and the reverberation had a very low humming similar to the refridgorator next to me, I reasoned that the fridge was acting up. It was either that, or a loud plane had flown low overhead, or the building was shrugging to readjust itself, or I dreamt the shaking into existence, or I'm smoking crack and imagined it all. It stopped after a short time, and I fell back asleep. Not long afterwards, Marc and Chris came in the lounge. They'd been woken up too. Marc was flabbergasted, asking "did you feel that?" This reassured me that I was not just imaginating things, that the building had indeed shaken. We talked a little bit about the fault lines near Tennessee, and about whether or not anybody should have known about this ahead of time. Then someone noticed that there were paint chips on the rug where none had been before. A surprising little confirmation of our experience. I finally went back downstairs to sleep till class, awaiting the morning's news stories which would hopefully tell me where this thing started and how it rated on the Richter Scale. (Taryn, if Tennessee got trashed by an earthquake before California did, well ... that would just be bitterly ironic, wouldn't it? Maybe you're safer over there after all.)
Wow, next week is dead week -- weird. I'm really NOT looking forward to being away from Tech people after exams are over. It always seems like Brentwood and Cookeville are two completely different worlds, and I'm different people in them. I'm around different people, and have a different temperment, and have different things to do, etc. There's Anna at home, and there's Anna at Tech, and both are the "real me," but ... I don't know what point I was trying to make here. Moving on.
We have an apartment for next semester! Or, rather, we will very soon. Jill and Jenn have already checked the place out and think it'll work, and I'm supposed to go see it tomorrow. I'm sure it'll be fine. I've seen apartments in this particular complex before. It's close to school, and reasonably priced. (Or so I hear. I am comletely ignorant when it comes to pricing living locations.) It'll be so nice to have a living area bigger than a parking lot space next semester. We'll have kitchen cupboards for food and dishes, a decent sized closet per person, and possibly shelves for the library of books I've been collecting. (Dad, you want to help me with that one? I know you do. ;-) I love you.) I think I'll be bringing my bike to class. So that I won't be walking all the time, but I won't be using gas. (I'm stingy as hell and I don't want to have to pay for it.) Wow, it's going to be odd having a my own bedroom again. (Well, I'll be living in my own room over the summer at home, but that's not the same.) It'll be great to create an art gallery on my wall again, although some of the smaller pictures I've printed out will have to be ditched after this semester. Ooooh, I should get more posters! Ok, I'm jumping ahead of myself. I have all summer.
Last year I made a mix CD of music that came out my sophomore year. Called it the "Rockin' Sophomore Set". (Cheesy, I know, I couldn't think of anything better at the time.) I was thinking about doing that for junior year, but then I realized that I've hardly listened to radio this semester. There are some favorites that came out, but I'm not sure if it's enough for a time capsule CD like my last one. In any case, I'll probably do it, but the music will have to cover a broader range or something so that it will fill up the 80 minutes.
So recently I've been book shopping. I've gotten two new journals (one with Chinese characters and pretty red butterflies on it, the other one with plain brown covers that I am in the process of decorating), three books on women, a historical overview on Islam, the Dictionary of Philosophy, 101 Chess Questions, and Peter Rabbit Tales (because good kids' books make me all nostalgic-like). The book on Islam is extremely informative, easy to read, and full of pictures. Very high quality book. It's very important to me that I understand other people as much as possible.
The three books on women are awesome. I got an anthology of women's writing (short stories, plays, poetry, etc.), a history of the feminist movement in America, and (best of all) an anathology of women's diaries from the 1850s to the 1970s. That last one really makes me go gaga. I love psychology and history, and it's going to be great fun for me to pick these women's brains as I read their least guarded musings. The title for this entry is actually an exeplitive used by the first "journalist" from that book. I burst out laughing when I read it, and decided that I MUST share this unique outburst of frustration with the world ... or at least the poor, naive, lost souls who regularly subject themselves to this intolerably rambling blog.
Yesterday we went out on the lake. It was nice to soak in some sun. Got a bit pink all over, but it isn't too bad. Should go away in a couple of days. Be sure and remind me to drag some of you guys onto the boat sometime. Tubing, and skiing, and jumping off cliffs, and such is so much fun! (At least, when the water isn't frigid, like it was yesterday.) It's been pretty nice being home for a bit. In a couple of weeks I'll be back here for the summer. Summers are good, and it will be good to catch up with the family and old high school buds, but I am NOT looking forward to being away from my TTU people. I think I might go through withdrawls or something. Bleh.
Later today I'm heading back to Tech. Then I'm driving with Amanda to Knoxville to see Sarah's Jewel get baptised. I'm looking forward to it. Later this week I'll be swamped writing papers, so it's nice to relax a bit now.
Watched The Red Dragon with the family tonight. Very convincingly creepy and cool. I loved it. Now I have seen the sequel and the prequel to Silence of the Lambs, but I have yet to see the original. I should really get around to that soon.
Got back from the Southern Regional Honors Conference Saturday night. I almost didn't get to give my presentation. Stupid conference people didn't order my audio-visual equipment. When I asked the hotel if I could have some transported there, they said "well, no, we can't get you a computer, but we'll loan a projector out to you for 300 dollars a day." No, thanks. Thankfully, Nick had brought his laptop with him and let me borrow it. The group had to huddle up to see the screen, but it worked. We had some really good discussion about the artistry and social significance of the videos (the same Madonna and Pearl Jam vids as last time). Since I had a full hour instead of half an hour, I also got to show Eminem's "White America". The group really enjoyed all three videos and had some very relevant and thoughtful comments on them. Plus, there was this cool girl from Belgium, and she says that they play everything over there. MTV overseas never bans anything. Apparently, the place of origin for the freedom of speech ideal is now the most censor-happy. We're behind the times.
We stopped in Asheville on the way back. I really enjoyed this. It's just this quiet city with several very cool bookstores (rare books in great shape and counter-culture stuff), unique restaurants, and tons of non-chain shops. I MUST go back.
Had fun hanging out with peoples Saturday night. Showed off my mad karate skillz by sparring with Josh a couple times. When we kept track of points he won, but it was close. Sunday was the ASG picnic. I played lots of volleyball and ate free pizza. What more can you ask for?
Let's see. Going to SRHC in Greensboro, NC early tomorrow morning. Should be cool. We'll be back on Saturday.
Still going with that whole moody thing. Need to be around people. This is hard. This sux. ;-)
Got a journal to write for history tonight. Got a Spanish test on Monday. Got two english papers to research. Should be a full Sunday when I get back.
Talked with Jill a couple nights ago about Star Trek: The Next Generation and ... other stuff. It was a good night.
Jamie is cool! (I have to say something about her, or she'll never check this site.)
I've updated several of the personal side links. (The ones between the guestbook and the e-mail link.) Feel free to browse the new stuff and comment as you see fit.
Let's see, earlier this week (Tuesday and Wednesday) I felt like crap. My head was seriously congested, my eyes itched and watered, my throat was scratchy, my nose ran like a faucet, I kept sneezing (causing a flare of burning sensation in my chest), and I was walking about in a slight daze. Thankfully, it was a short-lived sickness. Vitamin C is my friend.
Funny thing about getting sick, it tended to make me more emotional. Not dramatically emotional, and I certainly didn't exhibit an overflow of emotions, but I could feel the shift within myself. Thankfully, with the cure of the sickness also came the cure of sentimentality (at least, I'm no more sentimental than normal now). Which brings me to another point. How the hell are you other bloggers so open? It baffles me how much you can share of yourself through this electronic forum. It impresses me that you can reveal personal thoughts and events and vulnerability and not kick yourself mentally over and over again for doing so. Understand, I am NOT critizing any of you who this. I am, in fact, in awe. There's a strength exhibited in openness that I simply do not possess. I envy you.
Going back through my old posts last week, it bothered me the shallowness in which I write. I kept thinking, "GOD! Please tell me this isn't all there is to me. It doesn't feel like the real me at all. What could I possibly do to let people know that this isn't all there is?" Granted, I know that I am not as shallow as my posts here indicate. I also have a personal journal (one that requires the use of ink and paper) where I write the thoughts that are too crazy, too emotional, too controversial, too weird, or too revealing to post here. I say gossipy things there, as well as thoughts manifested in anger that were only relevant at the moment. Writing such things here would only bring unnecessary pain. I vent in my journal so that I can appear sane in my day-to-day interactions. Writing is very theraputic.
To put something into words (and especially into writing) is to make it real. I can be real to myself, and indeed feel obligated to be radically, brutally honest at all times with myself. I can't be that real to people in general, though. The exquisitness in truth would be too great to experience on a regular basis. So, I write for my own benefit in a journal which will NEVER be read by another living soul. Nothing personal, it's just that for me to be radically honest and introspective (like I need to be), I have to keep myself in perfect confidence. Although, I might eventually transfer a post or two from that journal to this one. I guess it just depends on the direction I grow towards for the next division of my life.
Which brings me to why I write this journal. Basically, my reasons for maintaining this blog include: letting the friends I don't see as much know that I'm alive and what I'm up to, sharing antidotes which I find amusing, keeping a list of links and information which I personally find amusing or useful, to practice writing, to record what my life is like right now (remembering the past accurately is very important to me), to indulge in the enjoyment of talking about myself (heh, damn narcissism), and to gain skills with html and web design. To you folks out there who can bare your souls and share your vulnerability with others (not only in blogs, but in life in general), props to you. You are brave and strong precisely where I am fearful and weak, whether you realize it or not.
All this week I've been on an mood upswing. It's weird, I've had more energy. I keep wanting to go out and do something, to run around like an imbusile or to go wandering/exploring or to joyfully scream my head off or devour mass quanities of ice cream or chase down friends of mine that I haven't seen in forever and demand that they catch me up on their lives or something. It's part physical release and part emotional release, and I like it, but I'm not entirely sure why it's hitting right now. I'm in the mood to either run around aimlessly enjoying myself and goofing off and laughing with people, or to curl up with a trusted friend to watch a movie and fall asleep in their arms. Human contact and connection is being craved, I suppose. I need it right now, and for once I don't feel guilty about admitting that. That's nice.
I'm listening to the song "Painting" by Blindside right now. Very very cool. I think I just might love this band, and I've only heard two of their songs. (The other song being "Pitiful".) I need to hear more.
Along more thoughtful trains of thought, here's what I've been pondering for the last couple of weeks: What makes a war just? I've decided on four criterion which must be fulfilled in order for me to support military violence. These four criterion are:
1. *There are crimes against humanity being committed.* Stopping mass murder, rape, torture, abusive repression of dissention, systematic violence against a people, etc. are the only morally justifiable reasons for waging war.
2. *All means of stopping these acts which would be less destructive to innocent people have been exhausted.* When diplomacy has failed, and any further economic sanctions would be more harmful to innocent people in the long run than military conflict.
3. *It is worth human sacrifice in order to stop these atrocities.* This includes both civilian casualties as well as the many opposing soldiers who would die. Making moral decisions (such as whether or not to participate in a war) should not be made while under the influence of self delusion (such as the belief that your enemy is not human). To do so is simply begging for regrets later in life. If we are ending the lives of complete strangers, then it had better damn well be for the greater good.
4. *It is worth sacrificing my life, as well as the lives of my family and my friends (if they should choose to fight).* Without #4, #3 is hypocritical and selfish. It bothers me when people flippantly remark that "there are always civilian casualties in war" while they and their loved ones sit safely at home, far from life-threatening conflict. I understand that civilian casualties are a fact of war, but before we offer up complete strangers and their families as a sacrifice to justice and liberty, we should at the very least place ourselves in their shoes. I cannot support ending the life of another person, or of eroding away members of families, unless I am willing to make the same sacrifice myself. If I am not personally willing to give my life and my loved ones for a cause, then I have no right to demand that others do so.
Finally, if all four of these conditions are met, and the war is just, then I feel morally obligated to do everything in my power to support it. If they are not met, then I am morally obligated to do everything in my power to oppose it. Regarding the war in Iraq, I am not yet informed enough to make the call over whether or not the war is just. Perhaps it is. For the sake of the Iraqi people, and for our sake, I hope that it is.
This past weekend was a good one. We had the ASG Formal, and I got to wear my favorite dress. The one I wore for Junior Prom. The color is deep burgandy, and it has a bustle and a short train. (The train made it hard as hell to dance. I kept stepping back onto my own dress, but I didn't tear it or anything.) While at the dance, as with most dances, I showed an unusually extroverted side of myself. I've always really loved dances, and don't mind making myself look like an idiot there (within reason).
The music I liked ... but that's because I was the one in charge of it. I tried to put a wide variety on the CDs, and I think the variety was a bit too wide. It ended up sounding way too random. Early on, people weren't dancing much, which bothered me. The people who stayed, though, seemed to have fun. To Liz and Laura, I would like to whole heartedly apologize for getting the music to you last minute (literally). I know there was a lot of stress involved in this for you, and I'm sorry to have contributed to that.
One further comment on the dance: DAMN, I have some good-looking friends. The guys and girls both were quite fashionable. Pictures can be found here.
Oh, and I am working on a way to fix my blog-response-thing. All the responses are clumping together rather than allowing for unique posts for each of my posts. I'll either be tampering with the HTML or changing blog-response services. Any ideas are welcome.
Some dumb-butt quit Lanningham's history class because she was too hard and because she talked too much about women ... that is depressing. The nerve of some people. Grrrr. I know a few ladies (myself included) who would enjoy clarifying for him the error in his priorities. Damn sexist.
The Oxford English Dictionary, which is the most authoritative one in existence, is huge. So huge, in fact, that to make it affordable they had to photo-copy four pages worth of material onto each page. The type is so small that the volume comes with it's own magnifying glass.
There was a female chapter of the KKK. They were in charge of baking, picnics, instructing children in radical racial/cultural elitism, spreading nasty gossip about non-Klan-backed candidates, etc. Bleh, no other comment.
In 1918, there were 550,000 Americans who died of the flu. 30 million people died of influenza worldwide. That's about twice the number of people who died in World War I (1914-1918), yet I hadn't heard about this till recently. Many people make it through our school system without learning of this epidemic. It simply isn't taught. I'd like to know why.
I know it's late to mention it now, but I was quite saddened when Mr. Rogers died. I LOVED his TV show as a kid. My other faves included 3-2-1 Contact, Reading Rainbow, a ton of cartoons, this artist guy who used to tell stories and draw the pictures at the same time (can't remember the name of the program), and a little bit of Sesame Street (although not quite as beloved as the others, believe it or not). I'm just glad Lavar Burton is still doing his thing with Reading Rainbow. That show rocks, but Mr. Rogers shall be missed. It's interesting to me that he died right after his show went off the air, like it was fated to be that way. Reminds me of Charles Shultz, who drew his last new Charlie Brown comic right before he died.
I have been exceptionally moody for the past 5 days. The world-wide poltical situation bothers me more and more, plus several things in my own life are frustrating me currently. The pendelum kept swinging back and forth between content, calm, appreciative, hopeful and happy to frustrated, easily-irritable, thin patience, and subtle anger. This is not my habitual emotional pattern. If anyone has sensed my being unusually crabby or jaded, for seemingly no reason, I apologize.
General self-observation: When it comes to confrontation, I tend to reflect people's attitudes towards me back at them. A clear demonstration of this is my karate class. When we are told to free-spar, I am only as agressive as the person I am sparring with. No more, no less. This pattern also shows up in conversations. The more direct and open someone is with me, the more direct and open I tend to be towards them. I can sometimes be a verbal tactician through avoidance of a subject, vagueness, or sarcasm/humor, but I am honest.
My most recent foray into psychology: Most people are neither direct nor open about themselves or with one another. Therefore, most people are rarely challenged to be fully honest. I tend to think other people are tactical/diplomatic/cautious the way I am, but they hide it (obvsiously) or they might not necessarily realize they're doing it.
The only way for finding out the truth about someone else is to ask direct, specific questions, and to be persistant. Don't let them off the hook by avoiding the question, making a joke, or giving a vague answer. If you really want the truth, without having to wade through the distortions of diplomatic language, then ask questions pointe blank. The more specific the question, the less room the other person will have for more-safe manuvering. When faced with blunt, honest inquiry, an answer is forced or the person must say straight forwardly that they do not wish to discuss it. At the very least, then their boundaries will be clearly defined ... and it is likely that those boundaries aren't as tight as often perceived.
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