things of little relevance

new year new girl
December 31, 2008, 5:43 pm
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I am actually wearing a different headpiece tonight. I can now join the ranks of people with headpieces.


Brief Encounter
December 31, 2008, 2:42 am
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“I’ve fallen in love! I’m an ordinary woman—I didn’t think such violent things could happen to ordinary people.”

This is the kind of love affair that I aspire to. There’s something idllyic and dignified about the unconsummated love affair between Laura and Alec. Physical gratification is pretty easy to come by with lower standards, and sometimes very necessary, but an emotional connection is just so much better!

As much as I love movies (okay fine, hours upon hours of House) with wine and cookies, this loafing around is nearing its end. I may revert to the system I used in the spring, in which I assigned myself a list of tasks to accomplish before bedtime. Essentially, my life skills have degenerated, so I am more or less forced to adapt study habits to living. I also am more excited to write things down in my new moleskine than to actually do them but allow me the excitment before it wears off.

modern love
December 28, 2008, 1:34 am
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“Whenever you describe something as ‘romantic,’ you’re invariably alone and going somewhere to read.”

December 24, 2008, 11:25 pm
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I almost started watching Mad Men today, then Khalid mentioned that it had been on for four seasons (52 episodes), which is a lot of time to devote. Instead I’ll just bask in the glory of vintage typewriter advertisements from the 1950s.




See more at UPPERCASE.

December 24, 2008, 3:03 am
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Finals week was a long stretch of misery punctuated by instances of laughter, an example of the latter:

Pierce points to my desktop background and asks, “Is that Sontag?”

“No. Joan Didion.”

“They’re all the same.”


The above photo inspires me to wear my white tights out, but I’ve yet to muster up the courage.

things we do without (overshare)
December 17, 2008, 2:13 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized
  • Underthings: last finals week, I went out and bought underwear because I was too lazy to do laundry. With the economy like this, I can’t justify that type of spending, ergo…
  • Sanity
  • Sleep


  • Slow thinker/writer
  • More pages than hours
  • Inadequacy

The only thing keeping me going right now is this lovely little gem I received in my inbox this morning (I am so glad that there are about five people in the world who truly understand what makes me happy: nostalgia, dead French men, food, and humor):

(I should mention that I’ve had a thing for 80’s hair metal since I was eight (though I prefer Van Halen). I’ve also harbored a crush on Jon Bon Jovi since age eleven or so (though for the Jersey blue collar rock thing, I love Springsteen so much). My taste in music bodes well for Pierce’s future for me—a venture capitalist’s housewife living in suburban California. Hence, I should learn how to drive better and start growing my hair out.)

Also, the following was in my inbox after bombing modern poetry:


December 13, 2008, 5:30 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

I thought it was scary when I heard a high-pitched noise coming from Hamilton and when I asked people around me, “Do you hear that too?” Their responses varied from a slow and hesitant “No…” to quizzical glances.

It’s even more scary when I feel the table in the library shaking and I look under the desk and the legs of the guy next to me are still, then I look at myself and I’m not unconsciously shaking. I place my palms on the table, and yup, it’s definitely quavering. So I ask the guy next to me, “Do you feel the table shaking?” And he gives me a weird look, shakes his head, puts his headphones back in, and resituate himself a little further from me.

So I probably am going insane.

On a different, but just as depressing note—I’ve been working since 11am yesterday on this Renaissance paper. I’ve not made any progress. In fact, I’m just as confused if not more. Maybe I should stop describing myself as a slow writer and slow thinker and just accept that I’m not very intelligent, but I’m diligent, but diligence has its limits.

On the “bright” side:

Strangers have been soliciting me in Butler. Two days ago it was an e-mail address crumpled on my desk. When I was looking at it, my seat partner tapped me and told me, “I think a friend left that for you.” To which I responded, “I don’t have a friend.”

And tonight—there were two! One random introduced himself and said, “Oh I see you in Butler all the time. I figure it’s time to introduce ourselves.” I almost kept walking, but stopped out of social niceties. Essentially, I stood there looking glum and dumb. Keep in mind I had never seen him before. He then introduced himself and gave a short spiel about his reasons for being at Columbia and Butler at 3 am on a Friday night. I revealed my first name. He didn’t really seem to get my curtness and then gave me his number, “Let’s see each other outside of this place (insinuating the library) some time.” The whole time I was thinking, “I would love to see you outside of Butler but not on purpose. Because to see you outside of Butler would entail me not being in Butler. And for right now, that’s just a lovely fantasy.”

Around 3:30 am, I was walking back into reference. Random #2 stops me and says some variation on the first guy’s opener. He also looked unfamiliar. Then he suggests, “1020 is still open for a bit, would you be up for a nightcap?” I politely declined on account of paper-writing, but in my head I was thinking, “I know exactly what a nightcap implies, I’ve learned from experience [obviously not writing my Montaigne paper]. And no siree, I am definitely not up for that.” 1020 is not worth thinking about. Then he asked if I’d be free after finals, and I told him I was going home. Not easily discouraged, he wrote down his number and when he handed it to me, he said, “For next semester,” accompanied by a wink.

I would/should have said I had a “partner.” But to be honest, no one in a relationship is still in Butler on a Friday night after 3 am. Most decent souls are not there at that time.

Moral of the story: Recognition is rarely ever mutual.

Second moral of the story: Lucy is miserable.