In which...pretty much nothing?

So, it's Tuesday, December 15th (by eleven minutes, but that's alright!), which means that exactly four months ago I was in my uncles' attic, blogging about how I was homesick and nervous and ahhhhhh! Honestly, I have nothing deep or reflective to say, just thought I would note the anniversary. ;]

I'm back in my uncles' attic, you see, because tomorrow they're driving me to BWI, where I will catch a plane and fly home. So, I'll see you all quite soon, I should hope! :]

Homehomehome.

Homehomehomehomehomehomehomehomehomehomehome. :]

I realize that, at this point, I'm blogging with a one-track mind (one-track blogging?), but I swear I can't help it. I'm so jealous of everybody that got to hang out over Thanksgiving! Hahaha. With the Facebook pictures and the statuses and the happy fun times! I am jealous. ;]

So anyway I come home in 15 days and at this point college has been reduced to me slogging through my finals so I can get on a plane. PLANE. ME. HOME. HOOOOOOME.

In which I take field trips, am a commuter, and like giving people presents.

So, I've taken to going on Monday "field trips." I am definitely enough of a nerd that this is fun. A couple of weeks ago I went to the White House. Just, you know, to check up on it! Make sure it was still there and everything. ;] I've also been to the Smithsonian and to the Capitol building (you can pretty much walk right up to the front of it, which I totally didn't remember; you know when to stop because there are little fences over the stairs and REALLY STERN LOOKING GUARDS). And once, the zoooooooo. :D

I really do love D.C., and always have, and now I get to wander around it like a tourist, except I live here. When I went to the White House I brought my class reading with me and found a park with a bench, and people asked me for directions. And I gave them. Because I live here. So that's pretty cool and everything, but all things considered?

I'm so ready to come home. SO READY.

This first semester has been a pretty monumental experience (ahahaha unintentional pun, monuments are in D.C., monumental, I'M SO FUNNY), and I'm sure I've changed a lot in ways I don't even realize-- although I do think a lot has stayed the same, as well. And when I'm home for Christmas break I'm going to miss a bunch of stuff (free museums, spontaneous trips to the White House, and the fabulous public transportation come to mind). But it's time to go home for a while, it just is. I miss everybody like crazy, and of course it doesn't help that I'll be on the East Coast for Thanksgiving-- even though my uncles are wonderful, stupendous, amazing people who invited me to stay with them over break, so I will be doing Thanksgiving with family, at least. :]

Anyway! The point is I want to see my family, and my friends, and, you know. My cat. ;] Sleep in my own bed, not have to go to work (did I mention I'm a commuter now? because I am! I feel like a little kid playing dress-up or something; I don't feel old enough to have a 9-5 job and a commute, even if it is part-time). I want to really catch up with everybody. Facebook is great for the basics, but I want to actually sit down and talk and find out what life has been like.

Also I really love giving people presents. What can I say. IT IS FUN.

In which there is elevator conversation.

"So this girl, does she go here?"

"Nah."

"Oh, okay. What's her name again?"

"Venice."

"That's a city. That can't be her name."

"Yeah, I know. That's what I told her."

"It used to be a city-state. Now it's a city."

"Yeah."

OH COLLEGE.

Though we adore men individually, we agree that as a group, they're rather stupid...

It is time to discuss the totally fantastic woman that is Winifred Banks.

And...yes. I'm choosing to talk about her as if she is a real person.

For those of you who don't recall the superb Mrs. Banks, she was the mom in Mary Poppins. You know, the one with blonde hair and an absent-minded streak? This lady:

Even though I know her character is basically used to poke fun at the women's suffrage movement (oh, look at the silly British housewife, isn't it nice that she has this "votes for women" thing as a hobby? how cute), I cannot help but completely adore her.

I mean, this is someone who when confronted with cannon fire which shakes her entire house, shouts, "Posts everyone!" and proceeds to hold back the piano as it attempts to roll across her floor. This is someone who takes everything in stride-- from her ridiculously grumpy husband, to the nanny who floats into the front garden and proceeds to be casually magic, to a house full of dancing chimney sweeps (towards the end of this clip? like, around 6:50-- yeah, if my house every suddenly fills with dancing chimney sweeps, I hope to deal with it half as well as our lovely Mrs. Banks does):

Basically, I find it delightful that she's so laid back about the impossible things that happen to her over the course of a two hour, forty minute film. I can't not love her. And if you can manage to hate her-- or even be apathetic towards her?-- I don't want to hear about it, because it will just make me SAD.

And, to top it all off, she firmly believes in her crusade for women's votes, even if the filmmakers kind of...didn't? Basically, she is a WONDROUS HUMAN BEING.

Even though she doesn't exist.

In which I choose my political party based on anagrams, Christopher Walken is just weird, and I try to prepare Puyallup for my awesome.

Just for the record:

o1. "Republicans" anagrams to "a sniper club." And "democrats" anagrams to "smart code."

I feel officially justified in my political affiliations.

o2.

Christopher Walken, who is simultaneously terrifying and hilarious. Christopher Walken, who is a riddle, wrapped in an enigma, shrouded in a mystery. Christopher Walken, who, bafflingly, busted out the song and dance in the 2007 version of Hairspray. Christopher Walken, who, in the above video, reads the lyrics to "Poker Face."

o3. I am coming home in 37 days. Hope you're ready for me, Puyallup.

Although, really. No one is every prepared for the sheer awesometasticness that is my presence.

And yeah, I just said "awesometasticness." In reference to myself.

How cool is that?

In which the Yankees just really need to lose.

"I believe in the Church of Baseball. I've tried all the major religions, and most of the minor ones. I've worshipped Buddha, Allah, Brahma, Vishnu, Siva, trees, mushrooms, and Isadora Duncan. I know things. For instance, there are 108 beads in a Catholic rosary and there are 108 stitches in a baseball. When I heard that, I gave Jesus a chance."

If anyone can offer me a religion with a god devoted specifically to ensuring Yankees' losses, I will convert right this very minute.

BOOOOOOO. :[

The quote, for the record, is from Bull Durham.

Yeah, we can't lie. There's only one true way to define "cool."

Here, let me make your day better times infinity.

YEAH.

o1. "Jane, you ignorant slut."

http://www.hulu.com/watch/2306/saturday-night-live-point-counterpoint-lee-marvin-and-michelle-triola

o2. "PLAIN TALK." Eric Idle!

http://www.hulu.com/watch/4134/saturday-night-live-gibberish

o3. "I'm a cherry farmer, just kidding I'm a cherry scientist, just kidding I'm a grape scientist, just kidding, grapes study me and I've seen the reports!"

http://www.hulu.com/watch/98322/saturday-night-live-update-judy-grimes

o4. Too sexy, for the other, things! Sidenote: the quote? Palin-esque.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=723UgVWoicw

o5...I don't even know. Watch Glee.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5n1615vnUIQ

o6. THIS IS COOL. DON'T DENY IT. THEY ARE BENDING THE FABRIC OF SPACE AND TIME. THIS IS THE STUFF OF LEGENDS, ETC. & ETC.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/10/17/nyregion/17minute.html?_r=1&hp

In which there isn't actually that much stuff going on, but I share anyway.

My life?

I don't know. It's possible the point of this blog is to occasionally mention what is actually happening in my life.

I CAN TOTALLY DO THAT.

Okey doke.

Well, I go to college now, as is pretty evident from the posts previous to this. In eleven days, I will have lived in D.C. for two months. That's pretty weird, folks. Not sure what to think of it. Here's what I do know, though: when I've lived here for two months, it's also two months until I get to come home and visit! 

That's pretty fantastic, so I guess the two-month marker is acceptable to me. ;]

The other night? This happened:

Accompanied by the sound of footsteps sprinting down the hall, a guy shouts, "Where are you?!"

There is a pause, in which the suspense is totally killing me. No seriously, where is this mysterious person? And why was the shouting necessary? Because it's like, four in the morning. I'm assuming some incredibly important stuff is happening here. 

Only, the next thing random hallway guy says is, "I don't know. I just...wanted to talk? I guess?"

There is another pause, in which I am rather annoyed with hallway guy. He just wanted to talk? Because I am prepared to reassure all of you, gentle readers, that he could've talked to whoever was at the other end of that line PRETTY MUCH WHENEVER. And that does include times which aren't four in the morning.

"Yeah...doesn't really matter? I just...yeah, no. Bye."

Alright college. Go ahead and provide me with people making unfortunate telecommunication choices just outside my door before its even light outside.

I CAN TAKE IT.

Also! I'm working now. That is a relatively new development. I'm doing secretarial stuff for an education non-profit called Higher Achievement. Neat-o! 

Ummm. I'm probably going to change my major to Political Science. That is also neat-o? 

I have a mid-term tomorrow. It's about RUSSIA. Oh Russia. Why do you have so much history? Can't you just have existed for, like, a hundred years and done nothing?

Because my life would be easier then. More boring, yes. But easier!

Okay, obviously, I got nothin'. People do interesting things in college, but I am not one of them.

I'M COMING HOME IN TWO MONTHS. I'M EXCITED. SHUT UP.

In which I wonder what to do with college, actually don't want to drink, and have grown-up aspirations.

Oh college. What am I going to do with you? 

o1. I always forget how long it takes me to make friends?

Yeah. It takes me forever.

o2. I feel like I am definitely in the wrong residence hall. I mean, I have nothing against the people here on general principles, it's just that they all want to drink and I don't. I'm sure that's a generalization, but apparently my dorm (and my floor) is known around campus as being the "party" dorm. 

I HAVE NOTHING AGAINST THESE PEOPLE. THEY SEEM LIKE REALLY NICE PEOPLE.

But our social interests do not intersect. :[

o2a. 

(Yes, this is o2, sub-part a. Shut up.)

Dear people who look at me like I am a sad, repressed person when I say I don't want to drink: 

The fact that I'm not drinking doesn't actually mean that I'm a depressingly straight-laced goody-two-shoes. OTHER things about me definitely indicate that, certainly, but this is not one of them. I think the drinking age should be lowered! If I wanted to drink? I would've done it by now. This is not a fear of breaking the rules holding me back. I actually don't think drinking sounds fun. 

Sorry if that bursts your bubble? It's not like I'm trying to stop you. 

o3. I know what I want to be when I grow up! :]

Ask me about it sometime. I WON'T BE ABLE TO STOP TALKING.

In which I enjoy nicknames, Sarah Palin adds writing to her many hobbies, and CNN provides facts.

A note: I really don't want to offend anyone. So if you're an avid Palin-lover, or if you just know that my particular brand of political fun-poking tends to rub you the wrong way, you probably shouldn't keep reading. I'm not going to pretend this is sophisticated satire. It's just me making fun of the one, the only, Sarah Barracuda.

If you're looking for a slightly more factual version of events, CNN can help you out! Hop on over. http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/2009/09/28/palins-book-to-be-called-going-rogue-an-american-life/

So, you guys. I'm sure it'll come as no surprise that one very special lady has been on my mind recently. Much as I'd like her to make herself scarce, she's terrifyingly persistent-- and, somehow, manages to be thought of as consistently newsworthy.

Known to her friends (I imagine) as the Moose Terminator, she's been making headlines yet again. Yes, I'm talking about everyone's favorite Tina Fey knockoff, a woman who needs no introduction, but whom I have so much fun introducing that it's impressive I restrained myself and only mocked her for two paragraphs before I got to the point. She's the only pitbull you know who not only wears lipstick, but shops at Neiman Marcus, and the only public servant in the country who knows the only way to truly serve the people is by quitting halfway through your term and then publishing a memoir.

Oh Sarah.

Presumably this book (reportedly titled Going Rogue: An American Life) will provide guidance to the good ol' citizens of the U.S. of A, so we can all follow in her gun-totin', Russia-watchin', book-bannin', state-trooper-firin', liberal-media-elite-hatin', Letterman-fightin', terrorist-defeatin' ways. 

Actually, the most uplifting thing about this news is that Sarah Palin is writing her memoirs. Think about it, guys. While memoirs are technically defined simply as, "an account of the personal experiences of an author" (or so dictionary.com tells me), stereotypically people write memoirs when they have nothing more to contribute to society. They're done, and now they're going to tell us all about it. 

I'm not saying I hope Sarah Palin dies, guys, I'm really not. That would just be messed up. I'm saying, I hope she's decided to settle down, write her memoirs, AND NEVER MAKE HEADLINES AGAIN.

We can only hope, America. 

We can only hope. 

(Also, Sarah dear, one quick aside: why in the world would you call it "An American Life?" I'm assuming you're not yet finished with living the aforementioned life, unless you are either going to enter some kind of underground, moose vs. humans boxing circuit, or have finally decided to become a Canadian citizen, so as to keep a closer eye on those wily Russians. But if neither of those things are true-- and I'm guessing they're not-- why make it sound like you're putting a neat beginning and ending on your own life? IT'S NOT OVER YET.) 

Again: http://politicalticker.blogs.cnn.com/2009/09/28/palins-book-to-be-called-going-rogue-an-american-life/. 

And thanks Adriana, for pointing out that Sarah was going to release the story of her life to us lucky members of the general public. :D

In which I enjoy the comedy YouTube provides.

It would be difficult for me to adore this more if I tried. I'm not entirely sure why, except that we can all relate, can't we? The wrong number conversation.

I am also, by-in-large, enjoying college as well. But not as much as this clip. Obviously.

...Sue? 

In which there are monuments, baseball games, and petty acts of thievery.

Hello, world! 

...Or something!

So I was on Facebook-- as, I have it on good authority, all the cool kids are-- when who should message me but Eric! As I have, in the past, found Eric to be a dispenser of infinite wisdom, I sat up and paid attention to the following:

"Emily! Why have I not heard exciting collegeish stories?"

The obvious answer to this question is, of course, because I don't have any. But really, who settles for not having any exciting stories to share when there's the possibility, staring them in the face, of hyping up existing stories until they seem exciting! 

So that, ladies and gents, is exactly what I'm about to do. 

Exciting Story #1: The Monuments

Actually, the basic requirements for finding this story exciting are: (1) a love of history; and (2) a love of pretty things which light up. And since I have a love of both those things, I was pretty much head-over-heels in love with the entire "monuments at night" experience. I saw The Washington Monument (aka, our nation's favorite gigantic, phallic symbol), the World War II Memorial (which is amazing, but totally fails to be captured successfully in any single picture; aerial photography might do the trick, but I have my doubts); the Lincoln Memorial, the Korean War Memorial (which, in a moment of total seriousness, is my favorite of all the war memorials, and should totally be seen at night or not at all, because it is at its best and its eeriest at night), and the Vietnam War Memorial. 

I also talked fiscal politics with a Republican-- weird! plus I was totally out of my depth! I'm a social issues girl, guys!-- and paid a visit to a bathroom with automatic soap dispenser, but no paper towels. 

Exciting Story #2: The Baseball Game

OHMYGOD I LOVE BASEBALL. And I was not getting my baseball fix. Nope. So when my uncle invited me to a Washington Nationals game, I disregarded the fact that the Nationals are, quite literally, the worst team in the nation (this is a fact which can be statistically proven), and jumped at the chance. I'm used to rooting for teams which perpetually loser, after all. Go Mariners! ;]

Anywho! This game? Yeah, it turned into a Baseball Saga. It was like the Iliad, the Odyssey, and Harry Potter, all rolled into a baseball game.

(Actually, that's a total lie-- it was just a really long baseball game, which lasted three hours and forty-four minutes, but which did not involve, as far as I could tell, any long sailing journeys, machinations in the lives of men courtesy of weirdly apathetic gods, or wizards.)

BUT. 

The game concluded with a fireworks show set to the songs of The Beatles. YES.

Exciting Story #3: Stealing Bread

Oh yeah. I saved the really exciting stuff for last. BAM.

Some quick back story, so we can get to the petty thievery: on Saturday, I went to dinner, a movie, and then Cheesecake Factory. Oh God, you guys, I adore Cheesecake Factory. It is delightful. Anyway, the Cheesecake Factory in Friendship Heights doesn't have a takeout counter? Which is how I've always eaten at Cheesecake Factory before. I've just hurried in, ordered a slice, and left again. But at this one, we actually had to walk in and sit down, which meant that the waiter came up to us, provided us with a menu, a basket of bread, several tablets of butter, and began listing the specials.

WE WERE FLUMMOXED.

We weren't sure exactly how to explain to the waiter that we wanted to skip straight to dessert? I felt it might be rude! And he just kept talking about how they had really good fish! And I just kept fidgeting, wanting to blurt out something along the lines of, "Oh God, oh God, keep your fish away from me! Please just bring me cheeeeeesecake! I want cheesecake; I am staring at the TWO PAGES in your menu which are devoted to cheesecake, and for God's sake, I really would like dessert. You work in a place called THE CHEESECAKE FACTORY. Surely I am not the first person to walk in expecting cheesecake!"

(Anyway, I ended up basically just shouting at a retreating waiter, "Um, actually could we just have dessert?" Which turned out to be the way to go, since, uh, he basically just went, "Yep!")

SO ANYWHO.

The bread was still just sitting there, staring at me. And guys, I wanted that bread. There's not enough bread hanging out in my dorm room. Like, there's peanut butter. There's jelly. There's cream cheese. There's honey. THERE ARE THINGS WHICH COULD CONCEIVABLY GO ON BREAD.

So damn it, I wanted that bread. 

Of course I could not finish the cheesecake in one sitting; who can, at The Cheesecake Factory? So I asked the waiter to bring me a box. And with that box, he provided a bag. A bag that was far larger than the box. In fact, when the box (containing some seriously delicious Oreo Mudslide cheesecake) had been deposited in the bag, there was still copious amounts of space. 

So I looked around, vaguely guilty, and then grabbed the bread basket and dumped the entire thing in the bag, paid the bill in a frenzy, and fled the Scene of The Crime.

I'm so rebellious. 

...

Guys, no joke, that is the most impressive thing I've done since arriving at college. No wild parties, no crazy shenanigans, no D.C. drama. Just stealing bread that I was entirely entitled to, from a restaurant whose main function OUGHT TO BE providing dessert.

I won't lie, though. I'm happier sans the crazy, rebellious drama (which, as you all know, has been a hallmark of my life up until this point). ;] 

Hope everyone's doing well! 

Ack.

Hi! My name is Emily Gogerty-Northrip. And while you, dear readers (i.e., Jenna and Laurel, hey guys!), may remember me as a relatively sane and functional human being, well, the person I am now is COMPLETELY DIFFERENT.

And what's done this to me? 

College. College has made me utterly and completely bipolar.

On the one hand, college! I am thrilled to be here, because "here" is COLLEGE, a place where my dorky self can find all the learning she can possibly fit into four years. I have actually learned something new every day-- since when is that actually true? Isn't that usually just a truism? Like, "oh, you learn something new every day," but in reality you mostly spend your days putting to use stuff that you already knew, sometimes in vaguely innovative but mostly repetitive ways, which I know sounds terrible and boring when you read it there, but can sometimes be lovely and comforting and anyway that's not the point. Whatever, I'm tired, ignore that part. The point is, I'M LEARNING THINGS. And that's fun. 

Also, I'm in D.C.! Land of the free museums, and the free monuments, and the free concerts, and the free...free-ness! You guys, everything's free. Which is nice, since college is, um, not.

ON THE OTHER HAND.

I miss you guys. :[ 

Not all the time, obviously. Your absence is not, like, a constant hole in my heart, as sweet and yet dependent and melodramatic as that would be. But I feel really cut off from everyone, and when I'm not frantically running around trying to get things done/actually doing the things which are supposed to be getting done (whatever! I'm tired! shut up!), I miss everyone. I hate that I'm in a different time zone. I feel like I don't actually talk to anyone any more. I'm hardly ever on facebook at the same time as lots of my friends. And I haven't talked to Camille in forever! And she is just one example! And that's not cool! :[

I know this is a new chapter of my life, blah blah blah, exciting, whatever and IT IS, okay, fine, but I don't want to totally ditch everyone I used to know. But most of them will be going to school in the same city/general area, and I am not there, and I will not be hanging out with anyone until December, aaaaaaaand FREAKING TIME ZONES I NEVER GET TO TALK TO PEOPLE.

Okay. That is all. :P

In which I am sleep-deprived, loony, and miss everyone.

Today has been so incredibly strange. 

I didn't go to sleep on the night of August 14th. I stayed up all night packing and panicking, dragging trash bags of my stuff up and down the stairs, and trying to ignore my stomach butterflies (which, now that I reflect on it, were more like stomach elephants; they didn't flutter so much as stampede). 

So I was awake at 4:30 AM when the rest of the household woke up, zombies to a man, and got ready to begin their caffeine-fueled trek to SeaTac. 

The ride there passed in a total haze because, of course, I fell asleep. But once we actually got to the airport I was wide awake to be rapidly bundled through the baggage check-in and past a series of signs until it came time for, you know. Goodbyes.

Can I say something upfront? I SUCK AT GOODBYES.

Basically I just hugged everyone for as long as I could and tried not to cry. I can think of a couple of things that would make airport security more unpleasant, and one of them is going through with wet eyes and a red, blotchy face. I fumbled my way through security, totally disoriented. I've never done that alone before! Silly thing to obsess over, I know, but hey. I almost burst into tears in front of the TSA guys, which would have been a total nightmare-- they were all very nice, but I doubt they're used to emotional breakdowns right in front of them. They probably would've had to search me for being some kind of anomaly. 

Once I got through security everything got a little more bearable, although I couldn't stop thinking about other times I've trundled through SeaTac, luggage in hand-- the college trip I took with my dad, and the Phoenix trip just this year came to mind. I was pretty much dying for some company, family or friends. I wish I could've taken someone with me, but that's life. :/ 

The rest of the day is pretty much a litany of Plane Tasks: sleep, read, eat, sleep, read, sleep sleep sleep, read, sleep and then, hey presto! Washington, D.C., and my uncles' house, safe and sound (and I've got to say, being with relatives definitely helps). But I still can't shake the feeling that someone should be here with me. It's so great to be texting and talking with everyone, but I wish I could've brought a couple of you along. I realized how much I loved you guys, but I didn't realize how much I'd miss you. And I keep thinking my family's going to be in the next room or something, waiting for me to finish fiddling around on the computer so that we can all do the crossword and plan tomorrow's touristy activities.

Instead tomorrow is Move In Day. So surreal. 

I hope I don't come across as wildly depressed in this post-- I swear I'm not! I'm a little shaken up, I'm a lot sad, but I'm also really excited for this whole "college" thing. It's just that right now I wish "college" didn't mean quite so much being on my own. 

In which things have happened and I need a box of tissues.

So, guys, I've been thinking about this summer. I don't know how it's been for everyone else, but I think I can genuinely say I've just spent two of the most amazing months of my life. 

After all, I'll never walk into Barnes&Noble again without thinking about Geeklove...in your pants, or the desperate need Laurel and I had for hot fudge milkshakes. Next time I need to curse creatively, I'll be able to-- a comforting thought, really. 

I now know of the existence of the American Mustache Institute. 

(Enrich your life. Click the link.)

I've spent a good half an hour lying in bed at Camille's house convinced she was being robbed and that I was going to be killed-- but I had a fantastic time nonetheless. 

I've been to the Grand-- not once, not twice, but three times, and seen three very different movies. I've had popcorn with real butter, and escaped the (supposedly necessary) extra napkins.

I've listened to Camille's "so tired I'm high" musings on bathroom walls and antimacassars. I've even joined in (I contributed, among other things, a woman named Edna).

I've made my own envelopes. I've given away said envelopes. 

I've spent entire days watching vlogbrothers videos, swapping links to various bits of British comedy, and pining for the fjords. 

I've made some cookies that were really more like some sort of peanut brittle, and had Celine Dion played at me as a mechanism of torture. 

I've seen Harry Potter 6. I've marathoned Potter Puppet Pals. I've spent a good hour in my kitchen watching homemade salsa disappear, to wild acclaim. All this, in one spectacular five hour span. 

I've gone for a six a.m. walk in Sumner, even knowing full well that all my thoughts had already been thought-- and my reaction had already been had. I've been ordered to say A Certain Word. I, you know, haven't said it. 

For the first time in my life, I had not just places to be, but Places To Be. This doesn't happen to me. Never before in my eighteen years, have I so consistently had places to be after midnight. That in and of itself is a bit of an accomplishment really. I had people I wanted to see at all hours of the day, and I was lucky enough that those people wanted to see me. 

I've gotten to be friends with people I didn't used to know nearly well enough, and I've gotten even closer to people I didn't think I could get closer to. And I know eventually my life 3,000 miles from here will at least come close to being this lovely. But right now I can't imagine being up at 3:00 a.m. with anyone but, well, you guys. 

I'll miss you all tremendously-- more then you probably understand. I hope you have an amazing September, an amazing October, an amazing November. 

I know your Decembers will be amazing because, you know. I'll be here. :]

In which I have a lot to do, and make concerned faces, like this: :/.

So here's the thing: I should probably be gone right now.

I mean it! Just for the sake of my own mental health, I ought to be on a plane right this very minute. Because until then I will be freaking out about packing, and do I have everything I need?, and will I be able to move in on time, and will I catch my connecting flight, and what if I don't make any friends, and God I hope my schedule works out properly, and oh yeah I still need to buy books, and I'll have to use those books in my actual college classes, which, hi, difficult!, and oh Lord I have to ship a bunch of stuff (which I should have had done by, um, yesterday?).

And of course worrying about all of this still leaves me time to panic about how much I'm going to miss my friends, not to mention my family (I mostly fit that in when I'm supposed to be doing unimportant stuff, like sleeping). 

Anywho, the point is, as much as I'm trying to enjoy my last five days in my favorite state, with my favorite people, it isn't always easy. And I'd kind of like to be gone, just so that my stomach wouldn't be in such constant knots. :/

I'll miss you, lovely people! 

In which 106 degrees is just wrong, HuffPo brings the giggles, and Britain mocks the week.

Hello, internets. How've you been? :] 

How I've Been (Yet Another List):

o1. Too hot. I don't mean, like, "gosh, this temperature is a mite uncomfortable for those of us who were born and bred in the Pacific Northwest, hope it drops a few degrees," I mean, "gosh, it doesn't matter where you live, 106 degrees is just wrong." 

o2. Grateful for The Huffington Post.

I know it's an extremely liberal source, and I don't get my news from there, but I sure get my giggles. 

Case in point: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2009/08/03/orly-taitz-melts-down-on_n_250441.html

An angry Fraggle! Oh HuffPo, I love you.

o3. Enamored of history books.

I love reading, quite a lot. And I love reading about history so much that sometimes it worries me. 

(Except not really, because is it possible to love reading about history too much? Correct answer: no. No other answers will be accepted. 

o4. In a frenzied state of packing.

When I'm not reading history books or HuffPo, I'm packing (also, packing, and also, packing!). Who knew I'd accumulated so much crap?

Actually, I did know I'd accumulated this much crap. I just didn't ever anticipate having to do something about it. Ah, well.

o5. Watching quite a lot of Mock the Week. 

Mock the Week is an irreverent, inappropriate, laugh-out-loud hilarious British TV show, which recaps the week's news in thoroughly manic and amusing ways. 

AND I ADORE IT.

That is all. 

That really is all. I've found myself having quite a lot to say about politics, lately, but I think I'll hold onto that until I've managed to put it together into something coherent, interesting and (hopefully) funny, instead of what it is now, which is a mess of incoherent, angry thoughts that no one would actually enjoy reading. Venting has its place, but I'd rather the face I presented to the general public was a little more tactful. ;]

In which there are movies, movies, and a couple more movies.

Mooooooovies! 

(Okay, so I don't know why some of these are getting cut off, nor do I know how to fix it. But! If you right click, you can choose "watch on YouTube" from the drop down menu, so if it's really impacting your Viewing Experience or something, go ahead and do that. :])

Movies I Want To See (some of them are released already, some aren't):

o1. 

o2. 

o3. 

(Oh look it's every famous person you've ever seen ever!)

o4. 

(Alexis Bledel I miss yoooooooou!)

o5. 

(Yes, okay, I know, everyone in the world wants to see this movie, apparently. WHATEVER, SO DO I.)

o6. 

Movies I've Seen That You Should Really Want To See Too:

o1.

o2.

o3.

(Sooooo muuuuuuch fuuuuuuun.)

o4.

(Oh come on, you know you loved this one when you saw it; or, alternatively, you haven't seen it yet and ought to be ashamed.)

o5.

(If there was ever a time when I wasn't in love with Kermit, it ended when I saw this movie. Oh Muppets. ♥)

And A Couple of "Yeah, I Might Spend My Money On That," Picks:

o1.

o2. 

(Heeeeeee, Ricky Gervais and Tina Fey and Rob Lowe!)

In which it is (still) too hot, UChicago and I weren't mean to be, and I warn of future Attempts At Humor.

I've decided to make up for the fact that my previous post was, in summary: blargh, it's too hot, ahhhhh college, oh, and also, hippos!

That might've made for interesting reading-- who am I to say?-- but you know, truthfully it didn't make for interesting writing, which might be the point of this whole thing in the first place. ;]

"Albert Einstein once said, 'The most beautiful thing we can experience is the mysterious. It is the source of all true art and science.' Propose your own original theory to explain one of the 16 mysteries below. Your theory does not need to be testable or even probable; however, it should provide some laws, principles, and/or causes to explain the facts, phenomena, or existence of one of these mysteries. You can make your theory artistic, scientific, conspiracy-driven, quantum, fanciful, or otherwise ingenious—but be sure it is your own and gives us an impression of how you think about the world.

Love, Non-Dairy Creamer, Sleep and Dreams, Gray, Crop Circles, The Platypus, The Beginning of Everything, Art, Time Travel, Language, The End of Everything, The Roanoke Colony, Numbers, Mona Lisa’s Smile, The College Rankings in U.S. News and World Report, Consciousness."

If I could add to that list, I might suggest that some high school senior, aspiring to attend UChicago (because yes, this is one of their past essay prompts), explain the deep mysteries behind such phenomena as Sunday afternoons, the Beatles, fake wood grain, baseball (related: that particular hope which springs eternal in the hearts of Cubs fans), and Wyoming. 

Oh UChicago. You and I weren't meant to be, but I think there's a reason no one believes me when I say I'm not sad about it-- and the reason is that you're awesome. I'm really not all that sad about it though, and I'm going to proclaim that one more time to the internets, just to see if anyone's listening who'll buy it.  

Anyway, the point of this post was, I may have to do something about this. I'll admit to being weirdly sad when I realized my days of writing college essays were over-- at least it meant I was writing. I got into the terrible habit of not writing unless someone made me, which just is not on. And truthfully, even that's only part of it, to cover up the unseemly truth: I honestly enjoyed writing the damn things.

Anywho, expect to see something from me within the next week or so probing the untold stories of Non-Dairy Creamer, or The Platypus, or probably both. It will probably involve lots of Capitals For Emphasis, and Attempts At Humor. Just to warn you. ;]

In which there are flying, purple hippos, several sentient pumpkins, and an excellent milkshake.

Let me start off by saying: the title of this post is a complete and total lie-- none of the things mentioned are contained herein. I have never met any sort of hippopotamus, let alone a flying or a purple one; the most contact I have with pumpkins is when I carve them up on Halloween, and thank goodness those aren't sentient; and as much as I would appreciate a good milkshake right now, since it's 81 degrees in my house, I haven't got one. 

Here's some quick musings on what I have got!

Thing One: A month until I leave for school.

Musings: HolycrapohmygodwhatamIgoingtodonoseriouslyWHOA. 

Thing Two: An 81 degree house.

Musings: Are you kidding me? :[ 

In this glorious and modern world we live in, containing the technology which gives me the ability to simultaneously blog and lie sprawled on a couch with the fan on, thinking thoughts of the Arctic, there is such a thing as air conditioning.

Tragically, my family hasn't got it.

But rumor has it, my dorm will!

Allow me to revise my musings for "Thing One" to include: airconditioningplease?

Thing Three: Days when there is nothing like a little ridiculously-funny-because-it-shouldn't-be-so-ridiculously-funny humor.

Musings: http://www.thedailyshow.com/watch/mon-may-18-2009/daily-colbert---keyboard-cat

In which I love quotes, Jean Houston loves laughter, and children love hamsters.

My top ten quotes of the moment, in no particular order. Is it anyone else's life goal to be quotable someday? I think it might be mine. ;]

Emily's Top Ten Quotes

o1. To repeat what others have said, requires education; to challenge it, requires brains. 

-- Mary Pettibone Poole

Because: Education vs. intelligence is clearly the debate of the summer. ;]

o2. Whatever you may be sure of, be sure of this: that you are dreadfully like other people.

-- James Russell Lowell

Because: All your thoughts have already been thought (and your reaction has already been had).

o3. You get fifteen Democrats in a room, and you get twenty opinions. 

-- Senator Patrick Leahy

Because: I wouldn't have it any other way. 

o4. Only two things are infinite, the universe and human stupidity. And I'm not sure about the former. 

-- Albert Einstein

Because: You tell 'em Al. You tell 'em. 

o5. I am prepared to meet my Maker. Whether my Maker is prepared for the great ordeal of meeting me is another matter. 

-- Winston Churchill 

Because: It's hilarious. Oh Winston. He clearly had to develop a sense of humor in reaction to his name, if nothing else. 

o6. Success is liking yourself, liking what you do, and liking how you do it.

-- Maya Angelou

Because: There are some things it is useful to remember as I trot off to college, and this is one of them, and because it's always nice to have someone state what I believe so succinctly. 

o7. With those who don't give a damn about baseball, I can only sympathize.  I do not resent them.  I am even willing to concede that many of them are physically clean, good to their mothers and in favor of world peace.  But while the game is on, I can't think of anything to say to them.

-- Art Hill

Because: If I had to make a list of top ten things I love (and maybe I will someday), the Mariners would be on it, whether they're winning or losing. The fact that they're winning lately just makes loving them more fun.

o8. It is better to have loved and lost than never to have lost at all. 

-- Samuel Butler

Because: Among many other reasons, because it's a classic.

o9. There is no reciprocity. Men love women, women love children, and children love hamsters.

-- Alice Thomas Ellis

Because: I may not find it to be entirely true as I live my life, but I will always find it entirely hilarious. 

1o. At the height of laughter, the universe is flung into a kaleidoscope of new possibilities.

-- Jean Houston

Because: Just because. :]

In which mavericks are maverick-y, and I cannot stand Sarah Palin.

Top Ten Reasons Sarah Palin Might Have Stepped Down As Governor

o1. She wants to hike the Appalachian trail.

o2. She's had enough of monitoring the Russians, and wants to move to the East Coast, where she can keep an eye on those crafty Greenlanders. 

o3. She needs the maximum amount of time to herself to brainstorm the names of her next five children; being Governor really used up the creative energy she needs to come up with such gems as Track, and Trig.

o4. Being Governor of the great state of Alaska took too much time away from her hobbies-- like hunting moose, banning books, and throwing down with David Letterman.

o5. Mark Sanford isn't too geographically savvy-- he thought he was in Argentina, but was, in fact, in Alaska. Oops?

o6. Having verified exactly what the difference is between a hockey mom and a pit bull, she feels the need to do some research into what the difference is between a hockey mom and other animals, all over the world. Yes, Sarah Palin's going on safari! 

o7. She's noticed her accent slipping recently, and needs time away from the public eye to practice leavin' the Gs off the ends of her words.

o8. She figured all the cool governors were doing absolutely insane things (Blagojevich? Sanford?), and wanted to become part of the perfect Alaska to Illinois to South Carolina, "crazy governor trifecta."

o9. She misses seeing Tina Fey on SNL, and wanted to give her a reason to come back. 

1o. She's just bein' a maverick. It's politics as usual to serve yer full term as governor, and by gosh, Sarah Palin doesn't listen to those liberal, heathen, Muslim, terrorist, pushers of "politics as usual." She's lookin' at you, Katie Couric.

(Actually, this one was pretty much her reason.)  

In which Facebook is not perfect, I demand equal opportunity insanity, and Emily Dickinson wasn't as crazy as you think.

Facebook, we need to talk. This quiz as fab as it is (and oh, it is fab) has one unfortunate flaw.

Crazy female writers are drastically underrepresented!

You can't tell me the world hasn't seen its fair share of female authors who were just a tad off-kilter. I'm demanding equal opportunity acknowledgment of insanity!

So here's a quick rundown of the crazier women who have put pen to paper.

(A note: I totally respect all these writers-- yes, even Bronte, much as I hate Jane Eyre. They all impacted literature, in one way or another, and they are all largely respected by the global community today. Seriously, they're cool. This is just meant to be fun.)  

Sylvia Plath:

Ms. Plath was a bit of a headcase, but honestly, she had her reasons. Her father died when she was eight, for starters. But that didn't stop her from getting her work published in literary magazines as a teenager, or from getting a scholarship to Smith College, where she continued to write successfully. Of course, successful writing usually just points to having some variety of tortured soul, and Sylvia didn't disappoint. While in college, she "suffered a nervous breakdown and tried to commit suicide."

Unfortunately for our heroine, the treatment for her nervous breakdown involved six months in a hospital undergoing electroconvulsive therapy, which basically induces seizures in its patients. Fun stuff, huh? So fun that Plath referred to it heavily in her writing. "Now they light me up like an electric bulb. / For weeks I can remember nothing at all," is a line from "Poem For A Birthday," which explored her college suicide attempt. When Plath's husband left her for another woman, she kicked the writing into angsty overdrive-- we're talking, “Daddy, I have had to kill you. / You died before I had time—”

After publishing The Bell Jar, a novel that was basically autobiographical and focused on a young woman's suicide attempt, Plath killed herself by putting her head in the oven and turning on the gas. She was, as all really cool artists are, more famous in death than she was in life.

Virginia Woolf:

Virginia Woolf, who had a really cool last name, "strove to create a literary form that would convey inner life." Born in 1882, she was greatly effected by her mother's death in 1895-- she is believed to have suffered bipolar disorder from that time on. One of her more famous novels, Mrs. Dalloway, tells the story of two completely different people whose thoughts and feelings have intriguing parallels.

The novel ends with the suicide of one of those characters, and Plath's life ended in suicide as well. In 1941 she walked into the Ouse River and drowned, leaving a note behind that told her husband she was afraid she was going insane.

In 1962, years after her death, Woolf unknowingly lent her name to the title of an award-winning play, Edward Albee's "Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?" The play is about dysfunctional relationships, and is full of scathing abuse, both verbal and physical.

Now there's an upper!

Charlotte Bronte:

In my personal opinion, the fact that Bronte's novel Jane Eyre is considered "partly autobiographical" is enough to doom the poor woman to at least partial insanity (we're talking about a novel in which a young Jane is misunderstood and abused by her childhood guardians, unjustly labeled a liar at school, falls in love with a-- rather overbearing!-- man who is keeping a crazy wife in the attic, hears voices, sees ghosts, and ends up marrying Mr. Rochester after Ye Olde Crazy Wife commits suicide by setting fire to the house and jumping off a roof).

That is all. 

Charlotte Perkins Gilman:

Gilman's life was no picnic, beginning when her father left the family; Gilman was an infant at the time. This left two children, our own Ms. Charlotte and her brother, Thomas, in the care of mother Mary Perkins, who was not the most affectionate or maternal figure in the world, considering the fact that she "forbade her children to make strong friendships or read fiction," believing that this would prevent them for getting hurt, as she had. I'm not making this stuff up! In her autobiography, Gilman claimed that her mother only showed affection when she thought her daughter was asleep. 

Truthfully, her relationships didn't improve particularly as she got older. Gilman married Charles Walter Stetson, an artist, in 1884 (she'd initially declined his proposal, which as it turns out would've been the better idea), and had a child with him in 1885. Gilman suffered from intense post-partum depression after the birth of her daughter, and contacted a specialist, who prescribed the "rest cure." This "cure"-- and yes, I am using dubious quotation marks-- involved bed rest, isolation, and complete dependence on others (we're talking being fed by someone else, not leaving bed, and oh, heaven forbid any speaking whatsoever). When she was sent home, Gilman was under orders to limit her "intellectual conversation" and to never write again. 

Be fair to the lady. She gave it a shot. Of course, it resulted in deepened depression and suicidal urges, and in the end she and her husband decided that a separation was necessary. It was only after Gilman left her husband and spent time alone, with her daughter, in a completely different town, that her depression began to lift.

Years later, Gilman would write a short story about her depression and its "cure." It was called "The Yellow Wallpaper." 

(I got you, didn't I? There you were, reading along, when suddenly...BAM. Wallpaper.)

And, winner of the, "Rumors of My Insanity Have Been Greatly Exaggerated" prize, Ms. Emily Dickinson! 

Best known to this year's AP Lit students (heeeeeeeeeey guys!) as a female poet who used random capitalization, and whose poems can all be sung to the tune of the "Gilligan's Island" theme song (thanks, Ms. Hallberg!), Dickinson is notable for a couple of other things. She did not, for example, like to leave her house, staying in her home in Amherst for almost the entirety of her adult life.

But, contrary to popular belief, she wasn't a total recluse. She had normal things-- things like visitors! Friends! Family! She had an extremely close friendship with her sister-in-law, threw parties at which she entertained many guests, and kept up steady correspondence with an impressive number of people. And though the bulk of Dickinson's work-- we're talking close to 2,000 poems, here-- were officially published after her death, she sent plenty of those poems to friends and family while she was still alive. 

Well. There you have it. Intriguing, intelligent, talented women who were, collectively, a few sandwiches short of a picnic. Love 'em, hate 'em, or love to hate 'em, you have to admit they did, on occasion, bring the crazy. 

Silly Facebook quiz. You really missed out. ;]

In which BLERGH.

I'm scared, and mixed up, and sad, and frustrated, and it just kind of sucks.

But! I am glad it's summer. :] 

:]

Awww, guys, we're all graduated and stuff. :]

Truthfully, that's about all I have to share. I mean, there hasn't been a lot going on with me lately except GRADUATIONGRADUATIONGRADUATION. Grad practice...was what it was, and besides that, I can't think of anything much to blather about!

Graduation itself was certainly very strange. I don't know about everybody else, but I was only worried while I was waiting to walk out of the expo hall/walk into the grandstand. Besides that I was pretty calm. I did have a moment in the expo hall when we were all lined up-- or, at least, supposed to be lined up-- when I got strangely proud of everyone I knew. I mean, I expected every single one of my friends to graduate, obviously. There was really no doubt. But it's still kinda cool, huh? :]