pipistrellafelix: (yick)
(11:11, make a wish.)

I just spent the last hour talking to Carol about my classes & the mess therein. Talking to her made me simultaneously relieved and panicked, since I think we're probably going to make it work, but she brought up a whole other issue I didn't even realize was an issue, causing me to need desperately to talk to Dr. E, who of course is not on campus today. Blargh.

It was very strange walking onto campus this morning--I felt like I had been gone for a very long time. & sitting in Carol's office while she phoned various deans & registrars & so forth, looking at all her set designs & materials & office-like things, for some reason make me really want to get out of school & start working. On something. Anything.

Not that I haven't been feeling that for a while, anyway. Even though it's always tempered with that feeling that if I just stay here & take classes I can hide from any real responsibility...? But that got shot to hell about last year, & dealing with the fiddly-bits & bureaucracy of university life has gotten to far outweigh the fun of taking classes, sadly. So I am pretty ready to be done, all things considered. I will be glad to graduate. I want to start something.
pipistrellafelix: (yick)
So Tuesday was going fairly well on my end--just work and class, & I got good feedback for my project, so that was useful. After work I went to Andrew's; we ended up going for Mexican food, my (hereafter vain) attempt to cheer him up after his bad day.

If I were as talented as David Sedaris, the following story would be hilarious; instead it's just a litany of awful things that get ridiculous if (like me) you have a tendency toward the absurd.

We get back to his apartment after dinner, he heads toward the bathroom--& steps in half an inch of standing water. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the basement apartment is flooding!
This day was Chekhov, let me tell you. We tried to mop some up--got nowhere of course. His neighbor Chris comes downstairs to get his laundry & starts cursing loudly, which is when we discover that the laundry room is flooded, water is literally bubbling up from the drain in the floor, the carpet is soaked, and the storage room across the hall--full of cardboard boxes on the floor--is slowly filling up. Well.

If we're going to be Monty Python about it all, the bright side is that it was definetely community bonding time--we ran upstairs and knocked on all the apartment doors, telling them with half a hopeless smile that, Hello, you don't know me, but I live downstairs, & the apartment is flooding, & if you have anything in storage you might want to move it? People came down to help move things, commiserated, talked about how ridiculous the weather is (this is June for crying out loud), laughed...because what else can you do?

Andrew & I drank cognac amongst boxes of rescued storage items. Andy came home, helped sort out drying books. We talked about how ridiculous and Chekhovian this day was--everything is just vaguely awful until the last act, wherein everything goes to shit & someone dies. "Well, no one has died anyway," Andy says. "Not yet," I said, and immediately regretted it. Way to tempt Murphy. Bailey got home; more cleaning. More drinking and commiserating with neighbors. And then Andy gets a phone call, and the room goes very quiet--you know, when something happens; you can just tell. There's a certainty that just blankets itself over everything. A family friend of his passed away that night--unrelated to the flooding (and expected in a way; he was very ill).

So we hugged, standing on the damp carpet. And drank more cognac. And Andy said that the Chekhov had finally come full circle.

This may just be a Chekhovian week--it's been raining a ridiculous amount and everyone around me has problems (personally I am not wallowing in much, but it's quite enough for all my friends, thank you)--Cozy got sick, finals are killing everyone, the rain is making everyone I know depressed. It's a little silly.

I could really do with a comedy-Shakespeare week after this one, all right? Or possibly a Tom Stoppard (circa Arcadia or R&G)--there might still be talk about the futility of life, but at least it would be optimistic, and there would be witty dialogue to go along with it.

What playwrights control your life today?
pipistrellafelix: (sharpdrop)
Saturday: Wind reading canceled; I went to the Design Studio instead, after traveling to Utrecht & spending far too much money on metal and wood. I attempted to build things & cut things straight, which I failed at; I attempted to solder, which I more or less failed at; I got frustrated & upset & cried a lot. Andrew showed up in the afternoon with a cork-backed ruler (look! I'm capable of cutting things now!) to stave off a total nervous breakdown; I managed to get some work done.

That night was the Galileo reading, to which two people came (Max, who wonderfully comes to everything, & my parents' houseguest)--but it went really well, & it was actually done which was the point anyway.

Sunday: Slept in some. Reading of Alice in the park...I am really excited about this play. Many wonderful people are in it (Andrew & I are planning to somehow initiate Davey Duke & Josh to become a new quintet; Jared's missing, but Emma & Marta are there, so we can still be awesome together). I'm playing the Frog Footman, the March Hare, & a playing card, & we all get to do silly voices & songs & dances to entertain small children. Huzzah!
Then I managed to be an ass & skip Wind rehearsal to work on my design project again. Sara was there, so we complained together. I did get a lot of work done but was there until about nine or ten, which is ridiculous.

It ended up being a far more stupidly emotional weekend than I wanted it to be, on many levels. I really hate being stupidly emotional. But I got my project done enough yesterday night (was in the studio from 4:30-10, with a dinner break), so I'm okay. Almost done with school. Almost.
pipistrellafelix: (Default)
So I finished that paper at about 2am--better than I was expecting, I suppose. My ears felt a little pressure-like, but I figured that was just exhaustion, so I went to bed. I woke up a while ago & my ears have been pressured all morning--like when you're in an airplane, & you need to pop them? Except they haven't popped. For...many hours! This is driving me crazy. It doesn't hurt, but it is annoying as hell. (I'll go to the health center tomorrow if it doesn't change, but it doesn't feel serious...I just can't get them to pop!)
Does anyone have any ideas? I've chewed gum & yawned until world's end, but nothing really works. Blargh.

grr argh.

May. 9th, 2007 03:57 pm
pipistrellafelix: (university of hamleting)
I am stuck on waiting for people to call me back at this point, which is an antsy, unproductive, uncomfortable feeling.
I called Barbara about costuming for Arcadia (& for Patrick & me at the auction), & since I'm super excited about Arcadia (& not so much about school, really) I want her to call me back so I can work on things. In retrospect probably a better idea that I don't, & do, say, homework instead, but still.
& Cozy called me this afternoon to say she got an email from the IES Dublin program we applied to saying that they hadn't recieved her transcript (we both sent them after the app) & her teacher reccomendation. Her what? We thought IES didn't ask for letters unless your GPA is low...but apparently the performance program does, & somehow both of us missed that. How, I don't know. It's not like we haven't been obsessing over this program for weeks.
So I called some IES rep to see if I could fax or email a letter (which of course I have to get first, which is a whole other issue) to make sure it got there on time. & since IES is in Chicago, & Chicago is two hours ahead, they're all out of the office already so I won't know till tomorrow. Which is a day before it's due. Agh.
EDIT: Shana is a goddess & is writing me a letter. YES. (Still need to hear back from IES Lady.)

On the bright side my thesis presentation went well & I got my paper back from Dr. K & he likes it (ha! still happy about that) & he thinks I can work in Derrida, of all things. Sure, I'm always game to throw in postmodernism, it's loads of fun to play with. So I have that paper back to revise, but it doesn't look to onerous.
On the less bright side I have essentially been ignoring Donne in favor of thesis & then tech week, which ate me right after my thesis let me go, so I have to do something before I meet with Dr. McD tomorrow. Also, the other day, he wanted me to think about doing the English honors thesis. My god. Does the whole world want me to go insane?


pipistrellafelix: (Default)

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