You May Have Noticed...

...that there are a few visual changes to my blog. Okay, very minor changes. Blogger launched their whole new easy-to-customize system a while ago, and now it's out of beta testing (and has been for a while), so I figured I would go ahead and switch over to the new thingy so I can dink. If you hadn't noticed, my blog was already pretty customized. I didn't have the generic (boring) header, and I had added a Favorite Posts section, I'd changed the color of the post titles, blah blah blah. I knew when I switched over to the new system that I would probably have to do some work to get it back to where I wanted it. And it did. A lot of work. Two hours of work when I should have been sleeping. I spent much of that time bouncing back and forth between the click-and-drag system and the HTML editor. Guess which I prefer...that's right, HTML. The thing is, I had gotten used to it, and I could basically do whatever I wanted with it. Yeah, I would have to look things up online, but I could usually figure something out within a few minutes. Not so with this new system, because now there are widgets, and I don't know what those are, so I'm going to have to either learn or throw in the towel as far as customization goes. So, I have some reading to do (along with substantial translating from "geek-speak" to "(relatively) normal-human".

I like learning new things. Especially when it comes to computers. It makes me feel smart. And a little arrogant ("What, you don't know how to bold something in HTML? Awww, you poor little thing, you"). But then I am reminded that I have no idea why the wireless keeps going out, and why our Internet is spotty. At this point in time, I'm going to cast the blame on Embarq. Although I can't seem to figure out why the wireless router quits communicating once...an hour...every day...for the last week. But I'm going to blame that on Embarq too, mostly because they spelled embark wrong. Stupid Sprint.

Anyway, there's that. I'm going to bed now. Tell me what you think. (Am I shamelessly fishing for comments? Yes.)

Weren't You Supposed to Do That Yesterday?

It was my full intention to be very productive this weekend and do my homework early and spend Sunday evening relaxing and reading. This did not happen, so I'm spending the next--I don't know--hour or so napping, and then homework 'til dawn (if necessary)!

On the bright side, I beat Guitar Hero II on medium...

An (Imaginary) Rabid Fan Attack at the Coffee Pub

I sat in the corner of the Coffee Pub today feeling horribly artistic with my legs draped over the chair arm, Mrs. Dalloway resting in my lap, hot tea in my hand (to pay the rent), and Iron and Wine pumping into my ears. Horribly, horribly artistic. In those two and a half hours I spent reading, my mind kept wandering to an imaginary conversation in my head that featured a rabid fan praising the play that I wrote while sitting in the corner of the Coffee Pub feeling horrible artistic. This RF gushed over the humor intertwined with literary and historical allusions, reminiscent of Beckett in it's pretentious inaccessibility that I succeeded in capturing in poignant scene after poignant scene. During this whole imaginary conversation I was magnanimous and condescending, deigning to grant an autograph to the RF and being every bit as witty and engaging as the witty and engaging characters in my witty and engaging play. 'Beckett used to be my favorite,' said the RF, 'but now it's you.'

And then I would be snapped back to real life by the realization that I have no idea who Septimus is and I probably should, since he just jumped out of a window. Actually, that is a lie. I haven't gotten that far in Mrs. Dalloway, but I'm going to trust SparkNotes and say that Septimus jumped out of a window. I had planned to speed read and finish tonight, but it's quite a difficult book to understand when reading at leisure speed, and let's face it, I'm not a very good speed reader anyway. I did finish Murphy and more than half of Mrs. Dalloway, so I'm hoping that that will be enough to get me an A on my exam tomorrow. I'll plan on answering as many Murphy questions as possible. We get to chose 14 out of 30 to answer, and there are only two books on this exam, so theoretically I could answer all Murphy questions and still be totally fine. I've been especially apathetic this past weekend about school and such. Perhaps it is the Senioritis setting in full force.

Paper Time Again

If you're a steady reader of my blog, you have probably come to realize that my most prolific times of writing usually occur in the late night/early morning hours on the day before a paper is due. It just so happens that today is such a day, and I am once again minimizing Microsoft Word and signing onto Blogger to verbalize my complaints...but more importantly, to procrastinate. Somewhere along the line I missed the life lesson about getting work done before the eve of a deadline. But it is my last semester of college, and I figure, why change now? I have gotten relatively good grades thus far, and well, I'd have to work really hard to lose my Magna Cum Laude status at this point (and Summa Cum Laude is an impossibility).

I've been thinking about freedom a lot lately. This semester has been chalked full of books about it. Every book I've read for my Senior Seminar in Early Anglo-Caribbean Literature has had recurring themes of freedom and slavery; not surprising considering Caribbean history. Sarah Scott's The History of Sir George Ellison tells the story of a good man who is essentially enslaved to his ideals (that was the topic of my first paper for that class). In Modern British Literature we're currently reading Samuel Beckett's Murphy, the title character of which strives for freedom from physical desires. The characters in Tom Stoppard's Arcadia deal with the issue of fate versus free will in mathematical terms (it's a really great play, by the way, even if I didn't really understand the math). Maybe it is our plight as humans to strive for freedom and individuality. So, we strive constantly for something we can never really attain.

That's about as far as I've gotten in thinking critically about this. It's been a busy few weeks, and I would like to think about it more. The thought of writing an essay about it just for kicks has popped in and out of my brain, but I know that since there is no due date for essays written just for kicks, it probably will never get done. We'll see.

Anyway, back to work on Organized Crime and the New York City Garment Industry. What was I thinking when I picked this topic? I could have been writing about JFK assassination conspiracy theories. Hmm...maybe I picked the better topic.

A Rough Day

There are days when ones only recourse is to throw up ones hands and say, "God is in His heaven, and all is right with the world." Today has been such a day, and I have an inkling that this week will be such a week. I feel as though I was punched in the face, kicked in the shins, and another simile which isn't coming to me right now.

I got up this morning knowing that I had a four hour drive in front of me, as well as numerous duties when I got back to Tallahassee. Plus, it's my mom's birthday. I left Orlando two hours behind schedule, and subsequently arrived in Tallahassee two hours behind schedule. I had to go BM shopping alone due to an unfortunate case of chicken pocks, and arrived back at the house just in time to make dinner, getting it done fifteen minutes late. I spent all day being late. That does not bother me though, I'll chalk it up to being on Trini Time. The punch, kick, and other simile came with finding out that I didn't make Teach for America, getting my credit card rejected (I forgot to tell them I was going out of the country, and I was making a $300+ purchase...groceries...will be reimbursed), and getting a somewhat stern talking to from my HR about shopping so late/shopping alone (again I cry: "chicken pocks...it's not my fault!"). Then I spent most of my evening moving across the bathroom to a room of my own, just to add a little stress, or perhaps relieve a little stress, depending on how you look at it. There is really nothing else to be said other than that it was a long day. I would really like to fall into bed and sleep for many hours. Sadly, that is not currently an option.

On the bright side, I think I can finally describe what 'home' feels like. It's not the place where my stuff is, because both Tallahassee and Orlando can claim that. It's not where I sleep every night, it's not the place that I'm driving to all the time, whether I'm going north or south on I-75. It is simply the place where I can feel at peace. Completely at rest. I can't be at peace in Tallahassee; here someone is always asking for my time and energy. At home, I might be asked to do something, but my worth is not contingent on my actions. I realized this on Saturday night as I sat outside the movie theater with my dad and brother waiting for my mom to show up. I flicked a quarter and listened to my brother talk about comic books (graphic novels, hem-hem), and for the first time in a long time, I could just be myself. I was allowed to just sit watching a quarter dance across the table, occasionally chiming in with some snide remark or question about Spiderman. I can't just sit and observe in Tallahassee; people always think there is something wrong if I don't say anything. That is certainly not the case, sometimes I just don't have things to say.

Anyway, that's that. Enough of my complaining and waxing philosophical. One of these days I'll post about Trinidad, but that will have to happen sometime after this week, because it's going to be a busy one.

Oh, I got an A on my Senior Seminar midterm, a bright spot in an otherwise gloomy day.

The Interview and a Broken Brain

I had my Teach for America phone interview today. I am preparing myself for the worst. Around 3 PM my heart started pounding, and I jumped when the phone rang. I repeated myself a lot, and I was having difficulty putting together coherent thoughts. I'm a lot better at writing my thoughts than verbalizing them, and that showed today.

Lately I've been having this problem with my brain. It doesn't work. My professor will ask a question and instead of threads and connections popping into my head, it is blank. Absolutely nothing. Expressing myself has become increasingly difficult, and I'm finding it frustrating. I've never been good at talking, I tend to stutter some times and trip over my words. I'll switch letters (litch swetters) around and have to repeat myself several times. This doesn't help in a phone interview, when the only thing communicating is my voice. My shaking, unsure voice. Frankly, that's why I prefer silence.

I'm sure some good will come of this. For one thing, the snide remarks that usually fly from my mouth tend to stay in my brain, fearing that they will come out a jumble of words trailing off into a muttered, "never mind." Fewer snide remarks is good.

It has grown progressively worse in the last few weeks, and I'm beginning to get worried. What if this is a sign of something seriously wrong? I know, what are the odds of that? But I've never been reduced to saying, "my brain isn't working today" in English class. Never. And frankly, it's embarrassing.