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There is one main thing wrong with having the director of this year's CUSA show as a roomie. I mean, outside of the stressing out and whatnot... I think there's a bit of a problem here having to do with music. And having to listen to the same song about five times as she figures out where it needs cut. I think, probably, in all honesty it's not a whole lot worse than some of my Japanese music. Or my English music. Or my French music. Yeah.
I really don't feel like doing most of my reading for Civ tomorrow. Anyone want to prod me in the right direction? Socrates was pretty cool, but for some reason I don't have it in me to keep reading right now. Actually, I should really get reading, because between the Apology, the Symposium, and Foucault's History of Sexuality, I think I've got some pretty cool reading lined up for tonight. I need to stop distracting myself with the internet, it's a horrible habit.
Oh, but I should write down the dream I had the night before last. I can't remember last night's dream, so it must not have been nearly as interesting as careening down into Youngstown on Amtrak with Ben Folds. We were sitting in my high school band room (which was somehow on a train car) and people were randomly heckling him. Someone dared him to run across all 50 states, and for some reason no one objected until he got up and ran off. Yeah. Then everyone was mad. And then the train was about to go into this tunnel and the people running it decided that we weren't allowed to make it to our desination, but we couldn't go back, either. So everyone that was with me started running back through the cars as we careened over this stretch of snow-covered forest that didn't have train-tracks anymore. Then suddenly the train stopped, and the engineers basically said "told you so", and we were stranded in the middle of nowhere on these big logs. And Ben Folds was nowhere in sight. I think he was sort of lucky to have escaped before the train turned on us.
I wish I understood why Ben Folds of all people showed up up in my dream, rather than like, oh, anyone that I've given a thought to in the past few days. It's never anyone that makes sense! No one that has anything to do with what I've been thinking about. Maybe this is a sign from my subconscious that I should be thinking about Ben Folds or something. Maybe he's mad at me because I've been ignoring him in favour of the Decemberists and such. Hmm. I'm sorry, Ben Folds. I didn't mean to upset you to the point that you ran away in my dream.
Oh, and since it is flu season, I feel that it is my duty to remind you to avoid letting people lick your keyboard. No, really. MSN News tells me so. And they can be trusted to warn us if there is an epidemic of keyboard-licking and related contractions of the flu. Watch out! (Serious <3s to whoever snuck that past their editor. "No-nonsense" indeed. Hehehe.)
I really don't feel like doing most of my reading for Civ tomorrow. Anyone want to prod me in the right direction? Socrates was pretty cool, but for some reason I don't have it in me to keep reading right now. Actually, I should really get reading, because between the Apology, the Symposium, and Foucault's History of Sexuality, I think I've got some pretty cool reading lined up for tonight. I need to stop distracting myself with the internet, it's a horrible habit.
Oh, but I should write down the dream I had the night before last. I can't remember last night's dream, so it must not have been nearly as interesting as careening down into Youngstown on Amtrak with Ben Folds. We were sitting in my high school band room (which was somehow on a train car) and people were randomly heckling him. Someone dared him to run across all 50 states, and for some reason no one objected until he got up and ran off. Yeah. Then everyone was mad. And then the train was about to go into this tunnel and the people running it decided that we weren't allowed to make it to our desination, but we couldn't go back, either. So everyone that was with me started running back through the cars as we careened over this stretch of snow-covered forest that didn't have train-tracks anymore. Then suddenly the train stopped, and the engineers basically said "told you so", and we were stranded in the middle of nowhere on these big logs. And Ben Folds was nowhere in sight. I think he was sort of lucky to have escaped before the train turned on us.
I wish I understood why Ben Folds of all people showed up up in my dream, rather than like, oh, anyone that I've given a thought to in the past few days. It's never anyone that makes sense! No one that has anything to do with what I've been thinking about. Maybe this is a sign from my subconscious that I should be thinking about Ben Folds or something. Maybe he's mad at me because I've been ignoring him in favour of the Decemberists and such. Hmm. I'm sorry, Ben Folds. I didn't mean to upset you to the point that you ran away in my dream.
Oh, and since it is flu season, I feel that it is my duty to remind you to avoid letting people lick your keyboard. No, really. MSN News tells me so. And they can be trusted to warn us if there is an epidemic of keyboard-licking and related contractions of the flu. Watch out! (Serious <3s to whoever snuck that past their editor. "No-nonsense" indeed. Hehehe.)
