Day Sixty-eight: More caffeine, cradle-robbing and general geekiness

Well, yesterday could have gone much worse than it did. Criminal justice was...well, Walser is a fun guy, but I'm pretty sure that his class is the one class to which children should not be brought. One of the students has to bring her little daughter to class...right when we're discussing prisons and inmate sexual assault. The kid is only six - and that is so not something a kid should have to learn.

Eastern World Lit was completely abysmal. Didn't learn anything useful. Wanted to kill myself. That seppuku thing as an object demonstration seems to look more and more enchanting each time I think of it. Criitcal Methods was...it just was. Rowsdower neglected to show up for that class, so I had to work with some of the other students...that could have gone worse, now that I think about it. But it also could have gone much better.

Anime club - now that was interesting. Benten and I rounded people up, some extra chick beyond the Gang showed up (besides the ever-annoying Kelly Clemens) and we decided on some stuff. I did my secretarial duty and took notes - and threw in some Hiragana just to annoy Benten, because she should be able to read it. We decided on some stuff, squabble a lot, and I think that Fitz has finally realized that we are a bunch of really creepy nerds. And more nerds are going to come when we get some PR done around the Art department and down at the game store (which moved to somewhere hidden near Smith's). But poor Fitz...I've just realized what a freak I am. I think so many people are more freaky, but then I say some weird stuff and I realize what a total weirdo I am. Schu just gave me a condescending pat on the head and said he understands, that we're all freaks. Let me slap him around with my gift for a bit and remind him just why I joined Schwarz - something to do with being considered a freak. I'll Farfarello deal with him later. And Brad is eyeing my new supply of mango and brandishing his gun, since I have some paper leg-work to do.

After anime club, delacoeur came by, and we roasted out all night in the den watching all three Harry Potter movies. That's how nerdy we are. Delacoeur is more of a Harry Potter freak than I am, but it was all in good fun. Benten came by and sat with us for a bit. Delacoeur was crocheting, and I got a little nostalgic and had an urge to do some of that random granny-ness, so I got out some knitting and started on a scarf - I really like the massive needles. Scarves come quicker - and larger - on them. And then Benten wanted to try. I attempted to show her knitting, since it's much quicker and efficient as far as making scarves is concerned, but that didn't go very well so we got her started on crocheting. Once she learns the patience for it she could be very good. Crocheting seems to be a lot easier to learn, and you can do lots more fancy stuff with crocheting. I only ever knit scarves - everything else I crochet. And I confess - I make doilies. But there was this fantastic moment where delacoeur, me and Benten were all sitting on the couches with blankets on our laps knitting and crocheting - we looked like a total bunch of grannies. It was so funny - a real candid camera moment.

But I like hanging out with delacoeur - she's cool. She can talk about English (and we can moan about French) and we can just generally have fun. And she's smart. She always brings soda, which is really sweet. We ordered pizza, and I forgot to take the lactose pills, but it could have gone a lot worse, I think. I didn't feel too badly. But it was odd, watching the first movie when all of the main actors were so young and cute and kiddie looking. Sort of like the nostalgia I get whenever I visit my old high school and see the middled schoolers (but that experience tends to be peppered with random homicidal rages). It was kinda cool watching the actors get older - and a heck of a lot cuter. Delacoeur and I had a good giggle over the guy who played Oliver Wood. And the guy who played Tom Riddle. And I think I've converted Delacoeur and Benten to my cult of blonds. Heh heh. Didn't take too much convincing when the third movie came around. But while we talked and giggled we all realized that all of the actors are younger than us, and then we tossed around evil cradle-robbing implications. As far as I can tell, both Benten and Delacoeur are at least twenty...and then I'm the youngest by a load. But who cares, right? Cute guys are cute guys...there were those really pretty little Danish boys (which ensued in some very bad sweet Danish jokes) I saw over the summer in England, but they were really pushing my basic age limit standards. But man...pretty boys. Benten just likes things pretty. I'm not sure about Delacoeur and her general pretty preferences. I've been basically conditioned to go for pretty - between years of pretty little Asian boys and anime bishonen, I think I've been pretty as far as standards go.

Mom came up today to help me start moving stuff for when I transfer over to the prison dorms. I'm actually going to be much better over there, but between CJ and other things Juniper does sort of seem like a prison - one or two people to a cell and a warden on every floor. But it'll be quieter there. I was hyped up on caffeine till four AM this morning - and checking out that underwater light like Delacoeur said to - and the whole time I heard people talking and giggling and running and thundering like a herd of elephants up and down the stairs. Those stupid gits had better be glad that I don't have a steel katana, because even if I wasn't asleep I was feeling more than homicidal. That may be because I've reached the mass murder stage of my novel and my train of thought runs toward general mass destruction...hmmm...

Nerdy homework time!

Day Sixty-eight: So screwed...

What screws over an English major on the eve of a major paper's due date?

1. No textbook. It seems that it is indeed possible to lose three pounds and five inches of literary criticism, and it seems that the one time you need to borrow the textbook from the roommate who always borrows textbooks from you her copy of said book has gone missing. Frelled, anyone at all?

2. No stickies with which to mark up textbook. This can be rectified by dueling with your roommate, giggling like a psychopath and then finding the stickies on your packet of poison snacks (although dehydrating said snacks seems to alleviate some of the toxicity).

3. No concentration skills. Staying up till four AM hyped up on caffeine, growing more and more enraged at the noisy gits mucking about at all hours and then listening to Eddie Izzard for an hour does not contribute to one's study of feminism, Laura Mulvey, the Male Gaze and the Miracle Life of Edgar Mint.

4. No sanity. Always necessary to write a lucid paper.

I AM SCREWED.

Who the hell steals a Norton Anthology of Literary Criticism? And I was planning on keeping that textbook.

Okay, the stickies are in a small packet and so they're easy to lose. But when a roommate asks about the conditions under which you would kill her it can derail your search.

And then being alternately gutted and annoyed about cradle-robbing. We were talking about it earlier. Panda - or was it Aya? - said that the general rule for dating was half one's own age plus seven was the minimum age of one's potential significant other. So I worked it out and said, "So I can date a guy who's sixteen?" (Math: 18 / 2 = 9 + 7 = 16...sorry about not getting the operator right and whatnot). And then Panda said, "No, a guy who is twenty can date a girl who is seventeen." Which was a patriarchal espousement of dating practices - guys can date (and ogle) younger girls but girls can do no such thing with younger guys. Of course, there is that age-to-maturity ratio thing for girls to deal with when it comes to guys. As I said, Yutaro and I discussed this. Guys your own age - a year either way - tend to be horribly immature. But if they're older they're more immature. But sometimes younger boys are prettier, the same way younger girls are prettier. Panda didn't realize he'd done it...and I will not go on a feminist kick, here, although if you want to hear a dirty espousement of feminists for women who date younger men, ask me about my accountant joke (no, not all accountants are boring).

Can you hear me screaming?