For tonight's Linguistics class I needed to do an exercise that estimated the number of words in my vocabulary. Here were the instructions, in case you want to try it:
1) Get an unabridged dictionary and flip open to a random page. Count the number of entries. Assuming this is a typical page, multiply this number by the number of pages to get the estimated number of words in the dictionary.
2) On four random pages, count the number of words and then the number of these words that you know*. Add up the total words on the four pages and the total words you know from these pages then figure out the percentage by dividing the number of words you know by the total number of words. This will give your a percentage (like .50).
3) Multiply the percentage you obtained by the total number of words gotten in number 1 and you have the number of words you know.
Go ahead... go try it. You know you want to do it!
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Now... that's all fine and good. I think it would be superfly to know the number of words that I, uh, know... But my problem is the similiar to the ones raised by this source:
Nagy and Anderson (1984) estimated that an average high school senior knows 45,000 words, but other researchers have estimated that the number is much closer to 17,000 words (D'Anna, Zechmeister, & Hall, 1991) or 5,000 words (Hirsh & Nation, 1992). Surely these dramatically different estimates depend upon the three questions described above, namely, what does it mean to "know" a word, what counts as a "word," and who counts as "average?"
What does it mean to know a word? Does it mean that I think "Oh yeah, I've definitely seen that word before?" Do I need to be able to provide a precise definition of a word in order to say that I know the word? Does "knowing" a word mean being able to use that word in a sentence or using that word on a consistent basis in many sentences? How do I know if a word is a partying fool in my mental lexicon or just some random group of letters hanging around the outskirts?
My results tell me I "know" 71,254 words. The average high school student "knows" 40,000 distinct words. My cats probably don't "know" any words. What does this mean? If I decided one day in a mood of sheer and utter pointless inquiry to write down every single word that I know, would it take 71,254 groupings of graphemes before I could finally through down my pen and say, "That's it! I quit, stop, desist, halt, give up, and, for that matter, forsake my pointless endeavor into the hazy depths of my mental lexicon!" ? Maybe... if I'm ever that bored... I'll let you know.
It's Official:
If you are interested in attending our first meeting, leave a comment or email me with your availability. We'll probably have a meeting the first week in October on a Monday or a Friday. Yay!
Imagine my glee when I sat down to read my ethics assignments and turned to a chapter entitled “Morality and Stories.” Rock on! The morality behind stories is certainly something I need to know if I plan on pursuing a career as a professional creative writer! Who knew I’d be getting such a kick out of my theology class readings this semester? (I didn’t, that’s for sure!)
“Then we must first of all, it seems, control the storytellers. Whatever noble story they compose we shall select, but a bad one we must reject. Then we shall persuade nurses and mothers to tell their children those we have selected and by those stories to fashion their minds far more than they can shape their bodies by handling them. The majority of the stories they now tell must be thrown out” (Plato, The Republic).
We are a storied-people: we tell the stories of our beginnings in the literature we preserve, we tell of our values and our dreams for the future in the stories we allow our children to experience, and we reveal our truths in the stories of our collective lives. Connors and McCormick suggest: “… we can learn something about ourselves as a nation by attending to the stories we are forever telling and retelling on television, in our movie theaters, on the best-seller list, and in our popular songs”.
What does popular culture reveal about the greater society?
My fear of that answer caused me to shun cable television and carefully screen the information I absorb! No longer would I mindlessly take in the media stew; instead I would take the initiative to create myself and would carefully evaluate my sources in all contexts for I know a story is never just a story. A story always has a message to share:
”The real moral power of stories flows from the fact that they engage us as persons, and the best of them engage us so fully, so effectively, draw us so profoundly outside of ourselves and get so deep inside our imagination that it is simply not possible for us to be the same persons after such an encounter.”
I did not want Jerry Springer to be an author in the story of my life! Instead, I would write my own story, infused with other stories: stories recommended to me by friends, assigned to me by professors, stories told in the films I watched on the television. Traveling to Europe was a way for me to learn the stories of other nations through experience. Listening to the stories of those around me adds a greater depth to my own life.
An education, especially an expensive one, is a sort of promise: I promise to show up to my classes, pay attention pretty much most of the time, and not throw spitballs at my professors or classmates; in turn, the school of my choosing promises to fill my mind with knowledge that will aid me as I seek to create my own life by providing top of the line technology, excellent text books, and even better professors. Today I realized that I’m getting my money’s worth because the timing is all right: I’m at just the right stage in my life and at just the right place. That’s a damn good story.
I really don’t like jobs. That whole getting up, going to work, wearing power suits… yeah, it’s not my style. And don’t tell me it’s not because I haven’t found the right job: after, what, 24 in as 26 years… I think I’d know by now:
I've branched out into non-food related pursuits such as running a sewing machine at a local silkscreening company and working as a data entry clerk for the U.S. Postal Service (that job suu-uuucked!). I've been a paid website representative, a grocery store cashier, a student services clerk at the local community college, a SHU writing consultant, and a seller of fruit.“
Maybe it’s the odd sense of power I gained from each of my jobs that worried me:
Once upon a time there was a girl who worked at the post office. Man, did she hate that job! But it turned out... with three ill-willed clicks on one little finger, BAM, a letter to, say, Australia is sent to Austria, Canada, maybe even Guatemala, never to be seen again. Not that said girl would ever admit to doing such a terrible thing... mostly because that would be admitting to a Federal offense, and HAHAHA, she's not that dumb.”
For a long time I thought about becoming a professional chef:
Some days I am practically a kitchen whizkid, whipping up those delicious banana nut muffins from scratch, with a nary a glance at my recipe as I do so. Other days, such as today, I am fairly certain it should be illegal for me to be around kitchen appliances, especially those with razor sharp blades whizzing around at the speed of light.
But ultimated decided against it when I realized people could die.
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So I developed a personal philosophy:
When you start to write to please an audience or start worrying about who may or may not be reading what you write, you are doing yourself and your writing a disservice. The point is that you can't please everyone all of the time. You can't even please half the people half of the time. The best you can hope for is to make sure that everything you put out there pleases just one person: YOU!
and began to design my very own career path:
The journalist who occasionally waxes poetic, the fiction writer who researches historical events to use in his piece, the writer who chooses not to focus on a specific genre instead choosing to dabble a little bit here and little bit there, experimenting and growing as a writer, these are the writers who I suspect will ultimately succeed in today’s writing world.
I’ve already blogged in 6 countries:
Today I felt a shiver run up my spine as I signed the guest registry at Shakespeare's birthplace in Stratford-upon-Avon. This house has held more famous people than you could shake a stick at including many famous writer's scrawls like Mark Twain, Charles Dickens, Alfred Lord Tennyson, and many more in addition, of course, to our boy Willie. I was sure to write my name neatly and completely because you never know, do you?
Why stop now?
So, kids, you wanna get knitty? I'm investigating the possibility of starting an SHU Knitting Club: basically, we'd get together every other week or so and knit up a storm. I have a few people who have already expressed interest in getting involved and I have a faculty member or two in mind who might be interested in being our advisor. I need to know names and phone numbers of anyone who might be interested in joining. Also, I need to know if you are interested in holding an office for the club. I have a couple of projects in mind for the club:
The first idea is a Peace Quilt - each member knits 10 by 10 inch squares in a certain color scheme (to be decided by the club!) and then these squares get sewn together to form a nifty quilt that we could use somehow to raise money for our cause (whatever cause we decide on collectively). We could either display the quilt or auction it off to the highest bidder. I was thinking our quilt could have a theme (both colors and otherwise). If we get official club status, we might be able to get funding to cover the cost of yarn.
The second idea is to make items to be donated to various charities: for instance, Campus Ministry has a silent auction in December to raise money for various campus activities. We could knit hats and scarves to be put on a silent auction or set prices for our items. Or we could make a bunch of hats and scarves and send them somewhere in the world to underpriviledged kids and teens... I dunno, like in Alaska or something?
These are just ideas: I think it would be awesome not only to start a knitting club but to have collective projects that would benefit the greater community. I'd like to have a meeting with anyone interested in order to really think about our mission and goals. If you are interested in joining a knitting club and/or becoming an officer, please get in touch. If you know anyone who might be interested, please spread the word. I'm especially interested in any underclasspeople who might want to join: while I'll more than likely serve as president this semester, I'm graduating in May and would like to start a club that could stick around for a while!
If you have questions, comments, or suggestions, please leave a comment. If you are interested in joining, please email me with your name, class, phone number, and schedule of availability. And, oh yeah, if you have any ideas for possible projects and/or an advisor, I'd appreciate your input on that as well. I'd like to have a club form to submit to Student Senate by the end of the week if possible in order to get started and have our first meeting.
I'm am excited! I'm going to see Salman Rushdie! How cool is that? Thanks, Neha for inviting me!
An unexpected benefit of being a "hill walker" is the opportunity to meet new people. This morning I walked partway with Samantha, a sophomore Spanish / Art History major who, it turns out, lives just a street down from me. We walked through Admin into Maura where I discovered that SHU has lockers for commuters! Who knew? Well... apparently a lot of people do since they aren't any left. Oh well.
This afternoon I made the acquaintance of Lisa, a employee at the Cove, genius behind the new BBQ chicken pizza that's been selling like crazy this week. Lisa isn't a student here but likes her job here much more than her last job, which coincidentally enough, is the location of last night's bakery incident. Wild!
Ah the joys... remind me of this when I complain about snowy treks up the hill. ;c)
Have you ever wondered what a supermarket does with its leftover food? You know, the stuff that's either just passed its expiration date or the fruit that's a little too banged up to sell? Maybe you've been thinking about it during the wee hours in the morning, dying to know, afraid to ask. Maybe it's never even crossed your mind to care. Well, friends, I'm here today to tell you exactly what one local grocery store does the bakery products after the sell-by date has passed:
See, I needed groceries. It happens. I bribed a friend into driving me to a local food warehouse, and, as we were perusing the bakery products in search of something delicious yet affordable, a woman approaches us. She is a baker at this nameless grocery store and began tempting us by saying, "Come on, girls, you want some cake, don't you?" And we're thinking, yes, yes, we do... but not at $4 a pop, thanks. We started to back slowly away to continue our shopping when everything changes.
She says the magic words: "You can have this for a quarter" followed closely by "I'm just going to throw it away anyway." We-ell, my ears perked up. As a professional slacker, I'm always in search of a bargain. 25 cents for a cake? Tell me everything.
After a few minutes of talking with our new best friend, Bertha Bakery, we both have cake: a devil's food cake and a pack of mini cupcakes for April, 2 packs of mini cupcakes for me to share at tomorrow's first WC meeting of the semester. Awesome! But Bertha ain't done talking yet. She's got a story she's dying to tell... and lucky for Bertha, she told the right person.
We get a tour - we see the bakery, the floured surfaces, the racks of bread crumbs ("See them? They've been sitting there 6 - 8 months. Don't buy those. I wouldn't buy those." Thanks for the tip, Bertha.) Then we round the corner and I see a sight that makes me sick to the very center of my being, something that doesn't really surprise me and makes me very sad: three giant grocery carts full to overflowing with bakery products to be thrown away.
Bertha doesn't like it either. Whenever she spies a customer who looks cool and the main manager is out of the building, she makes a deal. Why throw it all away, she figures, making us squeeze loaf after loaf of bread to prove it's still good. It's not just loaves of white bread - this is the fancy stuff: whole wheat buns, raisen bread, pepperoni rolls, fruit danishes, whole cakes, cinnamon rolls, dinner rolls, ciabatta, foccacia, baguettes... all of it crammed inside a row of grocery carts waiting for the dumpster.
The dumpster. This stuff is still good! I ended up buying a dozen wheat rolls and pepperoni bread, both of which will last a week a while in my freezer, for 25 cents a pack. But that's not even the point:
THERE ARE PEOPLE STARVING IN AFRICA AND EVEN IN THE UNITED STATES... AND YOUR LOCAL GROCERY IS THROWING AWAY TONS OF FOOD EVERY WEEK.
There's something wrong with this equation. This doesn't add up. How can this possibly make sense to anyone?
If this doesn't make you sick to the soul... you're heartless. Why can't the grocery donate the food to a shelter? Mark it at deep discounts and sell it? Give it away on the street corner? Give it to local farmers as feed? Absolutely anything but just throw it away. This is appalling. I was appalled, disgusted and so sad at the senseless waste. And this is just bread: what about fruit? vegetables? meat? I shudder to think.
Bertha says her manager is afraid of getting sued by a farmer whose pigs get sick. Bertha slaves all day in a kitchen making this food and the sight of it being thrown away every night makes her sick.
Is this what we've come to in our world? People who would rather throw perfectly good food away than try to do something good with it? And this is just a small store: what about those megaplexsupergrocerycastles with twice as many products? Do they do the same thing? You can bet your sweet ass they do.
Today I am saddened by a sick and twisted world.
As I was walking home today, I heard a couple having a screaming match in a turquoise van driving down the street. Now, if hearing a couple having a screaming match (... and we're talking SCREAMING!) isn't enough to get me worried, the fact that one of the two screaming parties was driving a van down the street at the time surely was enough to make me shrink back from the road.
I couldn't make out anything from the screaming match save one phrase: the woman involved shouted "... FIRST AMENDMENT!" then the van drove past me and I was free to contemplate.
At first I was pretty scared because I was thinking, "First Amendment? Right to bear arms? Oh shit!" When I got home, however, I put my mind at ease, sorta, and realized that the first amendment is in fact this:
"Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the Government for a redress of grievances." (FindLaw)
So, now, even though I am less worried about people driving around screaming about the right to bear arms, I'm pondering this:
What is it about the first amendment that got this woman so incredibly fired up that she started a screaming match IN A MOVING VEHICLE?
Was she trying to start her own cult and facing problems? Was she trying to have a giant peace rally in, say, Wal-Mart's parking lot and dealing with angry managment? Maybe she was trying to contact the local government about, say, a parking ticket and received no response? The problem is: I will never know! I may forever ponder this random moment in time wondering just what it is that made this woman so fiercely angered about her first amendment rights. Argh!
(P.S. As I was researching, I came across this site:
a group of advocates working to ensure that American citizens continue to have their first amendment rights. pretty neat. check it. and, neat, they have a blog!)-
Okay, that's it! I am completely and utterly done with Windows. Down to Windows! But... I need your help. See, I have a PC and I need some sort of operating system. At the moment I am using a bizarre cracked version of operating: Windows XP is defunct, my explorer file is corrupted and I can't get the repair program to fix it.
I -could- reformat my computer and start over, but honestly? the idea wakes me in the night with cold shivers!
I have a decade's worth of my mind's mental stew stored on my hard drive: we're talking papers from high school, my earliest web page designs, graphics and images I've designed, mp3s of me pretending to be a rockstar (yup, really!) as well as my entire 3000+ songs collection, pictures of friends, family, and loved ones, and, more important than anything else, writing like you wouldn't believe! I've written several novels, countless (oh countless!) academic papers for SHU, WCCC, and YSU, and journal entries from 1997 to present. I have at least 25 short stories in my collection as well as scores of poetic versification, not to mention all the random little chunks of brain farts that make my way to various files on my computer.
REFORMATTING IS NOT AN OPTION.
The day my computer crashed, I nearly hyperventilated. I won't lie: I freaked out. I called my brother, insisted that my father bring him to my house immediately, sure he'd be able to fix it. When he couldn't fix it and said the dreaded R-word, I called a local repair shop. The damage? $65 to reformat and reinstall all my old programs. Are you freaking kidding me? If I want to erase my entire life, I could do it myself, thank you very much.
Next, I called Dell, hoping maybe my computer was still under warranty. It wasn't. So I paid the $100 service call fee, cursing my misfortune and wondering how I'd pay my rent... when suddenly my phone died. It was providence at work. In the meantime my uncle Malcolm from the good old UK called me and offered some potential solutions. The next morning, I called back Dell and cancelled my service order.
Unfortunately, nothing has worked thus far: It seems as though my only option for a properly functioning computer is the R-word. But I refuse! I can still do everything I need to do on the computer, I just have to mess around a bit in order to make it happen. I don't have a start menu or a task bar any longer, but I can still sign online, burn cds, and print my papers. What else do I need?
Nothing... except maybe a new operating system which will not force me to reformat and lose my files. Hey computer geeks, any suggestions?
Before today's Opening Litury, I had never once attended a Catholic church service. I've attended Protestant services, a few Baptist services (and, whew, the fire and brimstone thing is so true!), a non-denominational service, and even a few pagan rituals... but never Catholic*. It was... interesting. I mean, what more to say? It was pretty much exactly what I expected, though not nearly as long and boring as I had imagined (abbreviated due to time constraints perhaps?).
I did, however, enjoy Father Stephen Honeygosky's homily. I wasn't sure what to think as he started off by reversing to, strangely, a Comcast commercial, making a comment about the main person not likely to be on "Desperate Housewives" anytime soon. When he said "dude", I thought, "Oh man! What is this?!?"
But then, to my great suprise, he started talking about the benefits of close reading! As a creative writing, er, literature, er, creative literature major??? this was bound to capture my attention. He spoke about how any artists' intent to move us or change our opinions from point A to point B (or beyond). I liked that.
He also discussed some of the shortcoming in Catholicism and other religions in seeking for "where god lives" versus "where's god." - an interesting idea of where true religious impulse occurs. I thought it was admirable for him to admit that religion has made mistakes and has "room to grow." He discussed the idea of faith being equal to free will, in that faith is a truly free enterprise: you can't force anyone to believe anything.
He also talked about the benefits of interreligious dialog(ue) as being something beneficial in order to explore higher spiritual truths. I have always believed that all religions have something valuable to say about life and liked that he mentioned that idea as well. I've always thought of truth as a shining silver thread, woven between all religions: if you seek it, you will find truth.
Fr. Honeygosky really won me over when he quoted Shakespeare's Juliet speaking of love, "The more I give to thee, the more I have to give." That's a great line and it's so true of love: most religions agree with the idea that sending love out into the world succeeds in bringing love back to you. From my own life and my own spiritual explorations, I have certainly found this to be true. Very cool.
I'm not necessarily in a hurry to go to church again (maybe Easter midnight mass, which I am informed, includes incense, candles and lights off... rock on!) I am, however, glad for the chance to expand my mind. I went by my own free will, no one required that I go, and what I took from the service was what I chose to allow inside my mind. Blessed be.
* Actually, I forgot, I did sit in on a service in Notre Dame in Paris, it was just the tail end and it was in French so it hardly counts, does it? ;c)
So I'm making a sincere effort to get involved with campus activities this year. So far I've joined The Setonian and gotten my first article assignment (I'm covering Morgan Spurlock's appearance next month - ROCK ON!). I signed up for next Saturday's Labor of Love because I believe that giving back to the world is an excellent way to say thanks for the blessings in your life. And, most recently, today I joined the SHU Recycling Team! Yay! My friend Kevin and I will be collecting the recycling bins in Maura Hall once a week so no spitting in the containers or leaving big yucky bugs behind 'em and stuff.
Are there any other rockin' clubs on campus to which I could devote my time? Anyone belong to any cool clubs they want to recommend? I want to join crazy clubs like rock-climbing or canoeing or free-for-all poetry slamming... you know, stuff like that? If I try to start a SHU knitting club will anyone join???
So I'm sitting in Shakespeare the other night (the course, kids, not some hip new coffee shop... dang!) and when my mind starts to wander as it's wont to do, I notice the doodles on my desk. The class takes place in Maura Hall with the old old school wooden desks complete with an image of a dead Jesus in every classroom... but I digress.
My desk says:
I (heart) Tim Leary
4:20
&
I love Gary?
Are these three statements evidence of the preccupation of the teenaged mind? Timothy Leary, evangelist of the LSD movement, quite possibly the most famous college professor in history due to his tendency to encourage his students to "Turn on, tune in, drop out" has in some strange twist of fate managed to make his way to a scratched out statement on a desk at Seton Hill University.
Rock on.
And, 4:20? Was this the time that class ended each day? The artwork of some mindlessly bored student etching into her desk in a futile effort to make the time fly by? Or maybe, more sinister than anything else, maybe this etching, a veritable archeological artifact is in fact evidence of an underground drug culture flourishing within these fine walls? Oh my, whatever will we do?
However, my friends, I must confess that it is neither of these things that has me worried. More it is the final fragment, three small words "I", "love", and "Gary" followed by a QUESTION MARK. What is the question? What was churning in the mind of the creator of this work?
Was the speaker unsure of his or her love for this mysterious Gary? Unsure of the name of the mythic beast who captured her affections? I love Gary today, but tomorrow? Who knows? And, most important of all, who the hell is Gary? If you know, could you tell me?
Dear People Who Give People Rides Up Hills,
You people rock!
Thanks a billion.
Love,
Moira
seriously. I'm learning to love the a.m. hike up the hill, rain or shine. I start off the trek half-awake and slightly cranky and by the time I reach the crest, I am sticky, wide-awake, and invigorated. It's awesome. Today, however, I was loaded down with all the books I'm returning to the bookstore plus all those books I need for my classes. So, even though it's beautiful outside, I was thinking, "Gee, a ride would be nice." Thank you, Sister Mary Alma, for the lift (both physically and metaphorically).
Before I write anything else, let me tell something: On Sunday, this Sunday, the truckers of the world (or at least the nearby U.S.) will unite and refuse to buy gasoline. Watch for it. (My mom's a waitress in a truck stop, kids, she is in the know.) Will this make a difference in the great scheme of things? I don't know, I don't know.
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So, gas @ $3.19 at gallon, are you kidding me? Lucky me I'm riding the bus with its stuffy environ and stink of diesel today as we pass the local gas stations stocked with cars filling up before the prices climb higher. I wonder how many people will get a second (or third) job to pay for gas rather than musing on fuel saving alternatives?
Gone, gone are the days of my youth when driving around aimlessly on the back country roads was the top pastime of choice. $5 worth of gas used to take me quite a long way - 79 cents a gallon when I lived in Youngstown in '98 - '99. At home, it was 99 cents. Driving was the cheapest form of fun around. No longer.
I remember when gas prices first rose above a dollar - I was appalled at the prices then - now?
Who can afford $3.19 a gallon? Can you?
I'm thanking the powers that be every second that I made the conscious decision to stop driving before circumstance forced me to make the same decision unwillingly. When pressed, I say I can't afford to drive, but the truth is more complex: I am trying to live my life in support of what I believe. However, my rants on the state of the world tend to make people uncomfortable and "I can't afford it" seems to work okay, especially as gas prices continue to skyrocket towards oblivion.
Enjoy driving while you can, kids!
I'm waiting for prices to shoot up to $5 and, then, when you see me walking up the hill, think about how much money I'm saving by using my own two feet. Though I wouldn't complain about a ride when it's raining... and, yeah, I might change my tune after the first blizzard of the season. But until then... I trudge on.
In truth, I'm beginning to enjoy that fifteen minute trek from my house to the top of the hill. I start off half-asleep but by the time I reach the top, I feel accomplished, awake, and ready to greet another day of education. I love the fresh air, even on the rainy days, and the feel of my feet pounding the pavement.
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I wrote this on my new blog two weeks back:
(yes, I'm a traitor. deal. ask nicely, maybe I'll share the URL)
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8/21 @ 10:44 a.m.
Doomsday Driving Lessons
Current mood: guilty
Today was the first time I have driven since May 20th or so. My dad came up to me and said, "Drive down to Shaffer's, would you, and pick up a Sunday paper?" I said, "Sure!" Not mentioning the fact that I don't have car insurance. If he'd needed to know, he would have asked, right? So I leap for joy and work up the nerve to ask him if I can stop at any yard sales I might happen to see on the way, knowing full well there are two at least around. He looks at me funny and says, "Of course." As if it were silly of me to ask. As if! Lovely man!
So as I was driving in my pretty pink shoes, I thought to myself, "Have I missed this?" And for the first twenty seconds, the answer was yes. In some respects, I love driving. I love the freedom involved with being able to take off at a moment's notice.
But then I realized something else.
I missed the feel of the wind in my hair. I missed the burn in my thighs, the tightness in my calves, and the clomp of my feet as they pounded the pavement. In short, I was moving as if in a dream.
And let me tell you something, friends, you might want to enjoy driving while you still can.
Look, look at the rising costs of gasoline. $2.50 a gallon, $2.70 predicted by the end of the week. Do you think prices will go down? Oh no. Prices will continue to rise and rise, like dust in the air, because people like you keep fucking buying gas.
Now, I mean no condemnation with such a remark - it is a cultural fault, not the individual's.
But listen:
Is the price of your illusionary liberation truly worth the cost of those thousands, millions of souls who have died in order to make it happen? Surely not.
Please: Be a human. Take a walk today. Get out your dusty old bicycle and pedal around town, just one day. See how you feel. Leave the car parked, enjoy the availability of free transportation. Ride a bus! Do it! Leave your car at home and fend for yourself. Because, believe me, one day it won't be optional. That is all of my doomsday talk for today. You're welcome.
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Oh, and kids, a little perspective? I asked my uncle today for the current price of gasoline in Britain. It's 89 pence a liter. After a few conversions with the help of the good old web world wide, I found his rate to be the equivalent of $6.20 a gallon. cripes! so, if you look at it that way, you're getting a hell of a deal at nearly half that. cheers.
Have you ever had one of those days when everything just seems to *click* into place and you say to yourself, "Yeah, yeah, this is exactly what I'm supposed to be doing?"
Today was that day for me.
My apologies, dear bloggy friends, for my lack of blogs lately. The time period between coming back to the States and starting classes was a time of readjusting and intense evaluation of my life. Now that I have seen a bit of the world, experienced just a smidge of what life has to offer, and tasted the fruit of my own hard work and determination (you think my trip to Europe just happened?)... the next step was to answer the very difficult question: What's next?
I'm never content to just plod along aimlessly, taking step after mindless step, doing what I *should* be doing just to reach some goal of which I haven't fully decided I want to reach... much of my youth was spent doing exactly that. I'm older now and a little bit wiser, and I've learned that I need to set my course before I can really feel the wind in my sails (if you'll excuse the metaphor). During my adventure of a lifetime, my travelling companion and I often discussed the concept of the Great Wind. "You cannot fight the Great Wind," Rick would say to me, and I wouldn't argue that point... but I think it's possible (and excuse me please for continuing the metaphor) to be a rudder, if you will, ensuring that your sails are open and your, uh, boat is point in the direction the wind is blowing. You might not know where you are going, but somehow, you'll be on the right track.
Today was just a great day! I'm digging my classes - I love the way everything in my classes seems to tie together. My job is rocking hardcore - I had my first session this semester at the Writing Center, and it was a great one, reminding me of exactly why I'm doing the job I'm doing. I got a delicious and free lunch (both excellent qualities) at the Commuter Connection lunch and got introduced to the Setonian's editor -and- got my first assignment all in one fell swoop. (Thanks a BUNDLE, Dr. J!!) And, and this is just conjecture at this point, I think I've figured out what I want to study in grad school. Rock on!
So how's your day been?
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| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | |||
| 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |
| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 |
| 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 |
| 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 |
moon phases |
