My life by the contents of my bookbag, as of January 12, 2007

[evilhippo]

Receipt for Adventures in the Screen Trade -- This book was out at the Co-op. It was out in Barnes and Noble and Borders. So I had to adventure downtown to the State Street Borders store, on my birthday no less, to find it so I could read it for the next day. They didn't have it. The important thing to learn here is that, if the website says "one in stock", it means "maybe one in stock, but that's not likely." And that's almost the exact wording the girl gave me when I asked. I was very lucky, though, and the Michigan Ave store had it. This trip, in addition to taking an hour longer than it needed to, also led to musing with a Borders employee on why all of my classes make it seem like I'm going to Columbia College. I guess, at heart, I am some sort of art school student.

Paycheck stub -- from last quarter, for 10.67.

Tiny notebook -- for random quotes. Hasn't had random quotes written in it for four years (the last quote is from the DI team I had senior year: "He walked in the door and had dinner... Then closed the door.") Now it contains the incident numbers for every time my computer has broken, and the graph of my hourly likelihood to be desiring breakfast. I have no idea how this ended up in my bookbag.

Three regular notebooks -- all carried over from last year, which means at this point they contain notes for a total of five classes each. None of them are more than half full because my handwriting is freaking tiny. There's probably more written in the margins about irrelevant things than there is about any of my classes. Most of them are full of stray paper and the occasional syllabus.

Three TV scripts -- the pilot for Desperate Housewives, which I am to read over to get a feel for actual scripts. A random script for a pilot my instructor wrote which was never bought, as an example of format. And the class's piecemeal fake Frasier script, which is hilarious for its consciously self-conscious rather tongue-in-cheek near-parody of what a Frasier script should sound like. Number of times Frasier or Niles casually reminds the audience that he is a psychiatrist: five. Includes such utterly un-Frasier jokes as "Niles: I bought this wine for Maris on our anniversary last year. Daphne: Ooo, then I couldn't drink it. Niles: Wal-Mart was having a sale."

Slightly larger tiny notebook -- contains journal entries, random quotes, random plots, random grocery lists, outlines, homework notes, inept kanji practice, attempts at brain teasers, class schedules, and one sketch of Roy Mustang without his shirt on for a reason I don't understand or remember.

My winter hat

My thumb drive

An apple -- which has been in my book bag since last Friday (the last time I went to BJ, which is where I stole it from). This is the reason I'm cleaning out my book bag. I didn't notice it until today when I took my thumb drive out in the mac lab so I could print out the 16 copies of my scene for the fake Frasier script (as an aside, my scene got the fewest laughs, but the tiny bit of pride I still have here says that was because it wasn't terribly funny, but also not hilariously bad). At least the apple hasn't turned completely gross, though. Just a bit... denty. And brownish.

Another paycheck stub -- again, 10.67. This is an hour's work, generally the best I can scrape together from "the printer's broken again!"

A small man-shaped piece of black plastic bag with a bit of duct tape stuck to it -- formerly taped to a plastic stick, which has since gone missing, and used to dodge out one of my photos. Kept in my book bag for random and nostalgia.

Two blank pink slips -- for getting into classes I'm not registered for. Glad I didn't need them this quarter.

A pair of chopsticks

The Pelican Complete Shakespeare -- I will probably lose several pounds this quarter because of this book. I think I did last spring. Man, if that thing isn't heavy. I also blame it for my lack of balance lately. I only seem to fall off of sidewalks when I'm carrying it. ... Honest. (Despite that, it's my friend.)

An empty film container

A postcard for the Chicago Review 60th anniversary party -- a souvenir for one of the weirdest things I've ever been through. ("FISH DEATH!") No idea why it's still in my bookbag, though, because I didn't even have it with me when I went.

Comments

[shichahn.livejournal.com]

Graph of hourly likelihood to be desiring breakfast? That is awesome. XDD And inspiring. I kind of want to make one for myself now. Oh dear

Your bookbag sounds pretty awesome. My similar bags such as my backpack, computer bag, purse, etc. never have that much awesome stuff in them. D:

[evilhippo.livejournal.com]

When you desire breakfast most is something you, as a human being, are absolutely required to know about yourself. Personally, I've found that my desire for breakfast increases throughout the day, so I am far more inclined to eat breakfast food for dinner than any other meal. (-;

My bookbag never gets cleaned out, though, so it has geological ages to amass interesting stuff. In the front part, which I went through a few days ago when I was rearranging all my buttons, actually has a keychain from my prom, which I don't think has left my bookbag since the evening of prom, and a large admission button to First Night Youngstown 2004 (which probably passed to me as soon as my mom got off work, and has lived in that part of my bookbag since about 10:00 on December 31st 2003). ^_^ So, obviously the key to interesting bookbag flotsam is being absentminded, lazy, and a pack-rat.

[flutingfrenzy.livejournal.com]

I, also, am intrigued by the breakfast desiring-likelihood graph.

it means "maybe one in stock, but that's not likely."

For future reference, this is also what it means when somebody tries to locate merchandise for you at Target using a register. (If they do it using a PDT, the chances that "one in stock" means "at least one in stock" are very high.) Unless it's furniture, certain electronics, or a small appliance, in which case "one in stock" refers to the display unit.

[evilhippo.livejournal.com]

That's so strange to me. One should mean one! Schrodinger's inventory can't be the most logical way of doing things... (-;

What is a PDT, by the way? Pirate Data Transfer? Persimmon-Dialing Telephone? Portable Delores Trampler?

[flutingfrenzy.livejournal.com]

Well, the registers aren't updated instantly, so it could mean that we had one but sold it recently, or it could mean that we have one somewhere, but some enterprising consumer has taken it upon themselves to find it a new shelf to live on on the other side of the store, and we can't do anything about either of those things. The display thing really doesn't make sense, though. We only sell those if they're on clearance, so why be a tease?

Yep, Pirate Data Transfer. Actually, Portable Data Transfer or something would make the most sense, which means that it's probably something else. They're the unwieldy-handgun-resembling things making the annoying beeping noises two aisles down.

[evilhippo.livejournal.com]

Ah, see, that sort of thing would've made perfect sense to me. At least that means that, at one point, you had it in stock. "One" apparently means "potentially in stock" all across the board at Borders, like maybe they felt like ordering it and maybe they didn't, which is why the clerk I talked to on State barely thought it was worth it to ask Michigan if they had it.

Ah, good. I was starting to get a little worried about Delores.