Busy Day, Busy Week, Busy Life

"If we sacrifice our today for our tomorrow, than all our todays will be abysmal, and that tomorrow that we yearn for, will never come."
-The Squirt

Quote of the day, yay. So anyway, there hasn't really been a lot of substance to the past couple of days. Mostly just going to class, doing homework, eating far to much chocolate thanks to B.W. and the sponsor ladies...it's been pretty normal. I've been more tired than usual I think, but tired is part of being a college student I guess. The biggest thing since the last time I posted is probably me getting a new roommate. That's right, a new roommate. Still smarting from the loss of my previous (and awesome) roommate, I get another one who, although kind and considerate, is not M. There's nobody telling me to "shut the eff up cause it's two in the morning and I'm trying to sleep!" (and yes, she does say eff, instead of the actual 'f word'), and nobody going to bed at 10 pm driving me to do the same. I really kind of miss it...her...whatever, might as well be it. I think maybe that's why I'm so tired, cause I haven't been going to sleep at a descent hour. Anyway, I think it will just take some getting used to.

On a totally different note, I'm getting really frustrated by the car search. It's still not turning it up, and I'm getting discouraged. It just sucks. To bad I'm such a stubborn person. But seriously, who wants to drive automatic. Psh. If anyone wants to give away a car to a poor college student, give me their number and I'll go do some groveling.

Phantom

I told you several posts ago that I was a bit uncertain about whether I thought making Phantom of the Opera in to a film was a good idea. I have to say right now that YES, MAKING PHANTOM INTO A MOVIE WAS AN EXCELLENT IDEA. There are several reasons.

First of all, I think Andrew Lloyd Webber needed someone with a good sense of plot and story telling to have his back. With the play, several things were left unexplained (why the Phantom lived under the Paris Opera, for one thing). The film was able to explain. Joel Schumacher was able to masterfully tell the story, interweaving it with the amazing music given to him by Andrew Lloyd Webber. With the added story telling, the film version made me stop looking at the technically cool stuff, and watch a great love story. The Angel of Music was explained more, and the fact that it Christine believed the Phantom was the incarnation of her father made it more believable and a lot less weird. It also helped that the existence of a previous relationship between Raoul and Christine was address, instead of it being a love between two strangers. Granted, the songs talk about it, but you don't understand that they were practically best friends back in the day.

The lack of plot was my biggest objection to the stage show. But the movie really filled it out and it had a purpose other than to wow the audience technically and musically. The technical stuff in the film was not disappointing either. Some things just weren't as cool because it was film, but it looked real, and it if there was any CGI (which I'm not sure there was), it was perfect.

Anyway, if you get the chance, go see it. It's worth the $7.50 (or $6.50 if your a student, $0 if you're a cheap little brother who makes his sister pay for his movies).

A Really Stressful Day

I know I promised myself that I wouldn't just talk about "my day" in this blog, but oh my goodness, I really need to do some venting, and the lack of roommate leaves me but one option: releasing steam on my unsuspecting readers. But now that I've warned you, you're not unsuspecting, so let's just say you knew what you were getting yourself into. Deal? Good. Glad to see you're still with me, reading my blog instead of an ever more interesting blog. [Side note: I like hyperlinks...have you noticed?]

Anyway, [Side note #2: my disc drive is making a rather disturbing sound, that can never be good, maybe it will be a good reason to finally call Dell and get them to send me a new one.] I will revert to mathematical looking symbols to express the vast majority of my day:

today=suck

Was that clear enough? Anyone want the whole story? Ok, I see that hand.

Today started out on an okay note, literally. Instead of the usual sound of a dying goose (or perhaps gander) which issues from my alarm clock every morning, I heard in its place something which sounded like singing; a human voice releasing one solitary note, and yes, it did stop when I hit the snooze button. I think I was still dreaming, although I distinctly remember trying to figure out why my alarm clock actually sounded good for the first time in...well...the history of mankind. After my pleasant awakening and subsequent slapping contest with the snooze button (I won of course) I indulged in a leisurely shower prior to going to class after a brief stop at Bill's Bookstore to purchase three "blue books" and a pack of fountain pen refills. For those of you not familiar with college kid lingo, a "blue book" is eight sheets of paper stapled together with a blue cover which has lines for Instructor, date, course, etc., for use on exams. Why regular notebook paper and a staple wouldn't suffice is beyond me. The blue books one gets from Bill's have a cheery "Good Luck" emblazoned across the front as if it were taunting you as you write your essays. In the bottom corner is one of those 'recycled' symbols, informing you that they too love the environment. But I digress. Women in Lit was pretty good actually. Quite amusing. We read "Female Orations" by Margaret Cavendish, Duchess of Newcastle, and it was really funny, cause Dr. B----- really hates the last oration and she gets all frustrated when someone is like, "I kind of agree with this." [Side note #3: I totally had Dr. B------ laughing at the "Bring me my red jacket" joke, and saying, "Holy Crap." Those who know Dr. B------ can appreciate what huge accomplishment this is.]

After Women in Lit, I had a Cultural Anthropology midterm, and the suck began. The test [actually the reason I needed the blue books] was a little lengthy to take in 50 minutes and answer the questions thoroughly. It doesn't help that some of the words are in a different language. I barely finished and I ended up being slightly tardy for Acting class where I-- gave me the "you're cutting it close" look, and the "I was getting worried you weren't going to make it" speech. Anyway, I had my monologue rehearsal thing today, and I guess I did okay, especially in comparison to my fellow techies who don't know much about acting either.

Acting class lead straight into a study group for Women in Lit, cause we have a midterm on Friday. [Side note #4: Forget stressful day, try stressful week!]. The study group itself was quite entertaining. When you put a dozen goofy girls together laughter is bound to happen. Although I got quite a bit of entertainment from the study group, I also got a large dose of anxiety. Sadly enough, a spoonful of sugar doesn't help the anxiety go down, and now I'm seriously stressing about my midterm on Friday because I've realized that I have absolutely what Anne Killigrew [...Peter Pettigrew] wrote.

When I got home and clicked on a friend's away message, I was blessed with one of those stinking AIM viruses. This particular virus is fairly new, so there's no remedy floating around the internet yet, and the virus automatically shuts down Windows Task Manager (the Ctrl + Alt + Del thing), so I couldn't fix it myself. So I wiped the hard drive. It was actually just a good excuse to do what I've been meaning to do for several weeks [by several weeks I mean since before Christmas break], and to put off doing my homework. Always a good thing, putting off homework.

So the day has been stressful. Although looking back on it, I had a good time being stressed out. I guess my equation from above should be changed to something like:

today=okay

Anyway, I will leave you now with a small nugget of joy. [Did I mention I like hyperlinks?]

Laughter and Tears

I'm sitting here looking at the emptiness of the other side of my room. My roommate was "dismissed" from the Foundation this week, and I don't think it has quite sunken in yet. She's just moving down the street to New Hall, but the difference between eight feet and a quarter of a mile is greater than you might think. I haven't really cried yet. There's this expectation that I will just break down into tears and cry uncontrollably for hours and hours until someone notices that I haven't been seen since the previous week and discovers me in a shriveled mess lying on my bed, face firmly rooted in my soggy pillow full of saltwater tears and drool, since I would have been so distraught as to forget personal hygiene and nineteen years of training on how to not drool outside the context of sleep. I was watching Garden State and there were a few times in random places where the tears were on the verge of breaking the dam, but I never got farther than a tear. I sat there, my stomach swollen from an excursion to Bamboo House with C., hugging my tiger wishing I could cry. Crying always makes me feel better.

When I was packing my things to move up to Tallahassee for the first time, I remember sitting in the swivel chair and just sobbing because I was leaving my friends, my family, and everything I had known up until that point. I rested my head on the slide out writing board on my desk (which was clearly made for right handed people) and wondering how long it would take for my tear reservoir to be exhausted. After fifteen minutes of trying to pack through the tears I finally stopped crying and went on with life. As utterly futile as those tears were, everything seemed okay afterwards.

I've laughed a lot this week, trying to be funny to hide how torn up I am about this whole situation. Not only have I lost a roommate and good friend, everyone in the house is at each other's throats, wound tight from the stress of knowing that someone who lives in the same building, the same home as you has "ratted out" one (or in this case three) of your own. We used to be able to trust each other, we were all going through life together.

My roommate has been gone for eight hours. Some of her stuff is still here, but the room feels empty. Very empty.