Recuperation

Well, it's over. I've turned in my first grad school assignment, a paper for the Intro class. As always, I am now on edge about whether my logic was correct, if I implemented the right theories, if I sounded at all competent. I know I need to just let it go and focus on the paper due next week, but I can't help it. I keep wondering whether this paper will affect my chances of being allowed to continue on to the PhD program. Ugh, I wonder what the statistics are for the frequency of ulcers among grad students.

The Old Were Young Once

I sometimes forget, but it's true. And the truth of that was brought back to me in a dramatic, if rather shallow, way. Last night, I finished my homework for the day and decided to wind down towards bedtime with a good movie. I pulled out my Alfred Hitchcock collection and took stock of which movies I had not yet seen. Yes, I know, this was a daring and risk-taking move, but I was feeling reckless. The handsome man on the cover of Secret Agent caught my eye, and so I popped the disc in my computer and sat back, waiting for Mr. Hitchcock to work his magic.

The movie opened with a funeral, which you quickly discover is a sham, put on for secret government purposes. In the second scene, the head of this secret government branch (which is unnamed, to add mystique) sat at his desk, shuffling through some papers. After a few moments, the hero entered the room. At this point, I was struck again by how handsome the man was. He was tall, clean-shaven, and had fine features, keen eyes, and a clear brow. I was smitten, but bewildered, because I was sure I had seen this man before. As he spoke, the quick, lyrical tone of his voice reinforced my suspicions. Intrigued, I went back to the beginning of the film to check out the credits and find out who this handsome man was.

Sir John Gielgud! The revelation knocked me out of my chair, I was so astonished. The king of the old-school Shakespearian actors! The master of dignified stage performance! Freakin' Cardinal Wolsey himself!

Needless to say, this knowledge intensified my delight at the film (which is quite good), but made me feel a little wierd. Here I was, admiring the handsome young man on the screen, and at the same time remembering him as the soft-spoken, dear old man in Invitation to the Wedding. It was an odd experience, but overall a pleasant and educational one too.

Rejoice, Ye Friends of Hamlet

Horatio: What news, my lord?
Hamlet: O, wonderful!



Warner Bros. has finally agreed to release Branagh's version of Hamlet on DVD in 2006! Words cannot express my joy! I joined my fellow Hamlet nerds last year in a campaign of persuasion to convince Warner to re-release the film, culminating in a final flood of e-mails to Warner on Valentine's Day. Our voices were heard, and the whole world will benefit from our perseverance. Dance with me, my friends!

To Those Who Have Ever Waited Tables...

No, we were never this cruel concerning our patrons, but we must admit we've been tempted...

Night on the Town

Check it out. I just found out the Newberry Library is just a quick walk from the Red Line. Who knew?




Tonight I went to Larissa's birthday party. We met at Dave & Busters, a combination of TGI Fridays and GameWorld. Think of an adult-style Chuck E. Cheese, and you're not far off. After dinner and a few rounds of Skee-Ball, we walked down to Roy's, a Polynesian bistro, for molten chocolate souflees. I met quite a few new people, and hit it off with Larissa (striped shirt), Dee (the blonde in white), and Jen (pink shirt). I have already been invited to do more with this bunch, including a beach party / worship session on Friday, and a trip to see Wicked in November. All in all, it was a brilliant time, and I ate much more than I should have.

Hurrah for photos!

The DSL is up and working, so I can regale you with the thrilling stories of my life. Or, at least, I can throw some photos up here to distract you from the fact that I haven't been posting as often as I should. However, I have been writing about three e-mails every day to all my beloved ones in Idaho, so I don't feel the least bit guilty.








These photos are from my trip to the Chicago Botanic Gardens a couple weeks ago. My goodness, that place is gorgeous! We must have walked for two hours, and we only saw about a quarter of it. I will have to go there again soon, before it gets cold, and take some good walking shoes and extra batteries for my camera.







I went to the Chicago Art Institute with Travis last Saturday. These pictures are from the front steps of the building. The big exhibit right now is a collection of original Toulouse Lautrec posters. I was a little disappointed, because there were no Moulin Rouge posters, just eight or nine posters advertising champagne or novels. Still, it was fascinating. The entire museum is breathtaking, and again too huge to see all in one day. Travis and I have different tastes in art, so we had to compromise on the different exhibits we saw: He was allowed to drag me through the modern art and photography galleries, as long as he accompanied me through the PreRaphaelite and Baroque exhibits (which he can't stand, by the way). We saw Picassos and Monets and Dalis, and I could have stayed there the entire weekend just to drink it all in. Again, another place I need to go when I have a larger chunk of time.

Stay tuned for more photos tonight. I'm going to a party tonight with the people in my Sunday school class. I'll snap a few shots of the downtown area while I'm there, and I'll take some photos of the apartment too, so you can see how it finallly turned out.

Close Encounters: The Unwelcome Kind

Oi, the past 30 hours have been so very draining; traumatizing, too. It is only after the balm of consolation from my mom and other friends has taken effect that I am able to write about this without giving in to hysterics.

This particular adventure began with the best of intentions, as many of my adventures do. I got up on Thursday with the hopes of deep cleaning everything in my living room: moving furniture, dusting blinds, vacuuming ceilings, the whole nine yards.

Now, a little backstory. When Mom and Dad were helping me move in, we killed a number of resident spiders. Not a terrible amount, but definitely more than I was used to. Dad bought a large bag of spider barrier, and surrounded the apartment building with a good layer of the stuff. Since he left, I have been noticing more and more spiders in my apartment.

Back to the story. I began to clean, scooting furniture out of the way so I could vacuum every surface I could get to. As I cleaned, I kept noticing that more and more spiders were skittering out from behind chairs, inside my divider screens, between my storage bins, and over my books. Panic was steadily rising up within me, as you may imagine. For those of you who don't know me well, the sight of a single spider is enough to give me a severe case of the heebie-jeebies. After an hour and a half, I had killed over a dozen large spiders, and nearly as many centipedes. I soon reached the limits of my courage; I just couldn't stand the thought of finding one more horrid insect among my newly-placed belongings. I decided to take my mind off of the spiders for a while by doing some laundry.

And if you think that this is the end of my entomological woes, you're dead wrong. It gets worse.

I sorted my laundry, and took the first load into the storage room that doubles as the shared laundry room. The room looks and feels decidedly unhealthy, with the buildup of fifty years of grime on every surface. I have always tried to spend as little time as possible in that room. So, I quickly put my load in the wash, poured some soap in, put in the required dollar's worth of quarters, and ran back to my room. Just as I had closed the door, which separates the storage room and my hallway, I felt a prickling sensation on my legs. I looked down to find that my legs and feet were thickly speckled with tiny, black, hopping dots. Yes, my friends, I was covered with fleas. This addition to the ranks of insects actively invading my home was the proverbial final straw. I called my mom and burst into tears, begging for advice and sympathy. Mom was generous in both areas, and before long I had calmed down enough to call my landlord and beg for aid. My request must have been particularly persuasive, because he immediately told me to find and hire any exterminator who could come that day to treat the building, and that he would take care of the bill.

So, I am banished from my apartment for a good chunk of the day today, letting all the poison fumes get into every cranny of that building and killing off every small living creature it can find. And I sincerely hope that their deaths will be of the most painful kind.

Oi, it's been a long 30 hours.