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i've got class. except, not yet.

I usally save these scholarly dilemas for my RL journal (equalparts) but I realized that hey, a grand total of three people probably read that thing anyway. So! I have decided to let you guys help me with scholarly choices.

Here are a few things I'd like to lay out before we begin:
-Rhodes College (where I go. omg, now you know, stalk me whatever) only allows a max of 18 hours of credit on a standard workload
-Classes are each 4 hours of credit (which means omgworkload is slightly elevated. and i only say slightly because I was prep schooled and I've never known any different)
-meaning I can really truly only get Four (4) classes in at any given semester without having to apply for an overload

So here's my dilema:

please read this! be my academic advisor!Collapse )

Poll #1164450 Classy, Sassy

Should I take Chinese?


Which Search class should I aim for?

9 am
10 am
other option which I am on my way to explaining in the comments

How should I aim to space my classes?

ALL classes on MWF (+ Tuesday's Chinese)
semi-evenly: two on MWF, two on TR
three on MWF, one on TR

Should I applie for an overload?

oh god, let me explain

eta: I spelled APPLY wrong, people. APPLY

what the fuck

did canada ever do for panic at the disco?

a fun poll for the evening

Poll #1150739 photoSUCKIT

why does photobucket never work?

that thing you did last summer

photobucket works for me

i don't use photobucket

if alia could view her photobucket, I would most like to see a picspam of

ryan ross' ridiculous hands
brendon urie.
bandly youngins
bloc party excellence
other which i will demand elsewhere

ST LOUIS?!?!?!?!?!?!?!


My roommie and I have come up with an amazing amazing fantabulous plan. The St Louis show is on Friday, Feb 1st.

sooooCollapse )

soooooo. ST LOUIS ROLECALL?!?!

icon = :]

there are people talking in my room and I can hear everything they are speaking,
but nothing they are saying. My roommate is out, I am in,
texting outward to her.
Texting, reaching, freaking--everything is out [of style].
I am open mouths and open ears.
I am skinny elbows and bony chicken legs.
I ask what your thing is....and mean it.
My rook is making a hairpin turn back to guard my king.
Most worthy yet most powerless.
I have control over just one silly,
disposable pawn.
line me up, look me up.
find my name. please

a poem

so the events of the 16th at Virginia Tech had a profound effect on me. I do not know anyone that attends that university, but considering I too will be heading to university soon, the events really struck a chord with me. I know that so many of us were so confused when we heard the news and even as new details come into the news, that confusion and sense of helplessness pervades. However, amidst all that confusion, I bore this.

Open minds have closed more doors

Can you remember yesterday when this day was
a blank square on the calendar?
The day you had a lot of English homework and a math test
Gloriously empty and plain but nothing worth taking notice
A bowl of sugar on the kitchen counter
Useless except in small doses, excited dreams and future plans

Today is now a mix of blended spirits
We are raw eggs
Breaking news and shells and cast into the bowls
Silver and baked through years of basic knowledge
Legs from toes, addition and woeful subtraction
The rise of the yeast, the accumulation of the years
Our two schools of thought are cakes of wisdom
Separate life from dream life
Taste from the sensation of it

Deep voices bellowing for stray walkers to become frantic runners
And stay away from the windows
Running through drill fields
Gunshots, shouting, Motorola news reports
Is this the war we fight on campus grounds?
Only this time instead of heaving painted signs and painted faces
We are heaving bombed book bags, red stained shirts
White flags. White flags. White fluffed creamy flags.

A spread of kids, someone’s pride and joy squinting at the upturn
Of dust from a low flying helicopter
Lifted hands to not only prove their bodies armless
But to protect their skulls
Like the power of the peace sign fingers could shield the straight shots of grey bullets
The tanned yellow flesh, the delicate insides, how they break and crumble so easily

First hand accounts sprinkled with “like” and “I mean”
Filler layered phrases become the soft sweet between
Reality and television
Surreal and sure
Padding the shock value, the bitter of vanilla extract

The way things spread and clump so quickly
How the icing beads up over the heated surface
The way scared students tip from open windows
How the white cream drips over the plate and onto the counter
The way the CNN montage seems cliché and overplayed
How we always look forward to the first slice, the snuff of the candles.

But we are wise in how we’ve measured out
Equal parts milk and butter
Food coloring and added granules of sugar to sweeten the rest
But allowed the bitter balance to equal out
The flour that sticks to the inside of our mouths
The memories we didn’t want to keep hidden inside
Small golden rings that bring good fortune but chip our teeth
We’ve spread every friend and foe over our surface
Our experiences gluing together the stacked complexities of simple existence
Sitting on the countertop untouched. How we can’t indulge every day.

analytical writing? screw YOU.

I'm not sure where the line between fanfic and analysis really goes, so I wrote a paper on a fanfic! wow!


Really though, I did. Below the cut is my analytical piece on sobrellevar's piece Quiet is the New Loud (I Will Follow You Into the Dark). I picked it mostly because it is a good length and it's friendly across the worlds of fanfic and English class. I actually printed out the piece for my english teacher to read to accompany my work and he liked it so much that he kept it! :) He's a really cool guy and I hope this is okay, Katrina!

also, it should be noted that this isn't a strict analysis. The english class I'm in is kind of a modified english class (AP Lang--meant to immitate a college freshmen writing seminar?) so the assignments are funky and we had to write a paper that referenced our internal voice/thoughts while we read. So obviously first person was encouraged and the prompt was left very broad and general for our interepretation purposes. Basically, I'm just saying this so it doesn't seem weird when I address myself.

title:neck mouth skin fingers ocean heart, heart

In the dark, everything quiet is loud; everything is funny and grave, all at the same time.Collapse )
so in case you haven't noticed, livejournal is not unlike real life in terms of human interaction and social structure, particularly in fanfiction circles, it's true, the kids that get the most action (or write the most action) have the most friends,

but quality over quantity? not always, sometimes those incredibly excellent pr0n writers do, in fact, get the most comments or responses, but mostly consisting of "hOMG, incoherencies, can't give good feedback because of the hotness," and don't get me wrong, that's cool and great and "thanks for commenting!" is always an appropriate response, because i know i've given those comments, just because i know it's nice as a reader to get a sense of how many people actually have read the little wordplays that have been meekly submitted, but some writers deserve more than those comments, which is why i try now to give some really good (if nothing else detailed) feedback about specific aspects that made me squee

but then there's the flip side, the kids that don't necessarily write hotsex, but more those really elegant, amazing pieces that really should be viewed with literary merit, and i like to think i've got a strong eye for those, but it seems as if all those writers that can write so incredibly well and elegant and just plain old 'good' already come tagged with a small group of lj-buddies that pretentiously refer to themselves by a single (sometimes double) syllabled name, and i think those writers are a bit intimidating, because i want to be accepted so badly into that little inner circle for some silly reason and i feel nervous to ask to be friended because hell, what am i to them if nothing but a feedback mule

and i've thought about it like this before, getting into LJ was the best thing to happen to my writing, it's truly like being in some underground fight clubby place, some indie writing circle that you've really got to be headfirst into before you reap those desirable results

so i'm not glorifying elitism, nor am i bashing mass appeal (though it may be an undercut to casual readers who leave vague responses), but i suppose i'm (gloriously) somewhere in the middle, it's great to write porn snips, but at some point, doesn't it feel good to read literature

i'm not very good at ranting lately, i feel very colloquial, who knows why

in other news, i have blisters inside my mouth from my retainer, that's how hardcore i be

and schmyndsey (aka the lyndsex dontushiver) should be home today, if she hasn't splashed into the deep blue sea by now, or wretched her heart out because (ha!) Germany has to play for world cup third place now, that's not very funny, but i mean, austria and germany are close, one of them europe nations (damn american)

anyway, it's very early in the morning, and i'm planning on waking up soonish, mostly because my sheets need to be washed and there's children coming to swim at our house at lunch, and i loves the childrenses

anti-climactic exit aaaaaaand....NOW
a slew of words which few will understand fully

vacation bible school. car packing. drivingdrivingdriving. zaxby's. outlet mall. $20 jeans. drivingdriving. "i am not myself these days" by josh kilmer-purcell. hotel in macon. drive more. mckenzie tennessee. restless sleep.

RHODES. no hangers. no internet cable. cool roomate. failed conversations. carly. not participating in group games. sex talk on the couch in the social room. molinary ("your name's an alliteration!"). poetry poetry. jar. dead father-in-law. poetry. friend-making. social rooming. the rat. sunshine. grass. story telling. charlie. loleeeeta. poetry. fun. sometimes not much fun.

more new friends. twitching. minimal work. maximum...play? laughter. more laughter. more poetry. mall. hats. "where is my mind?" by the pixies. sex stories. sex tips written on forearms. pills on the floor. opening the door but never shutting it. "i stole it from the rat." your personal ass-kicker. "hell's pretty hot. i mean, i'm from the south, which is pretty hot, and you don't even get a water break down in hell."

covered in vaseline in the hallways of a psych ward. "do somethin!" the best conversation all day. "you need to get off the internet." yay for storms. a poet named "anon." 45 seconds. we're prose. Yoknapatawpha county is for lovers.

(grossly oversimplified)

haircut. world cup. bonfire. late night journey to wal-mart. home cooking. pseudo-packing. drivingdriving. vanderbilt (swoon). the ritz. "we're not going to get shot." "shut up, lola!" "we're taking everything not nailed down." The Producers. Fogo Gaucho (i think). saxby's. zaxby's. emory (swoon). oglethorpe. free t-shirt. drivingdriving. home.

and *scene*