Preparing for Battle
Dear Standard Issue Sorority Letter Bag,
You have been a good friend to me. From the day I picked you up from Zax, all new and embroidered to my azure blue and white specifications and took you home, you have been a loyal friend to me. You stood by me when I used you to haul around my lab coat, scientific calculator, safety glasses, and toxicological field guides instead of the typical one notebook, fuzzy pen, and makeup case that most girls put in their letter bags. You did not break when I filled you with a semester's worth of research material (about 35 lbs in books and notes) and carried you across the countryside...or Murray. You never tattled on me when I (wasn't supposed to have) used you to haul my beer. Now, dear bag, we face our greatest battle of all: Written and Oral Comprehenisve Exit Examinations!
You are now filled with two years worth of lecture notes, old tests, study guides, and anything else I could find to prepare for these examinations. The weight of all of this is almost too much to bear, but I ask you to please not break and please not get lost...at least until next Friday around 4 pm. I know it is scary, but we can do this, dear bag. So, in conclusion, dear bag, I'll say a little prayer for you to stay strong. I'll probably find more stuff to put in you and I'll be taking you to southwest Missouri in a few days, but hang in there! This will all be past us soon.
Your Ever Faithful Owner,
KD
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Flying without Fear
For the past couple of years, I've had this thing about flying. I wouldn't say I was afraid to fly, but I definitely experienced the quickening of the pulse, sweaty brow, and dry mouth associated with mild anxiety. I hate having mild anxiety; it's neurotic behavior which is ultimately time-wasting. It's inefficient and stupid. However, the thought of being hurled through the air in an alumnium tube with no real control over my fate did tend to elicit the same reaction once solely reserved for encountering spiders. But, when flying to an interview for a job which requires traveling (by air), there really is no other option than to just go into things with a sense of humor and hope for the best.
So Monday morning, I boarded a 50 person capacity regional jet and hoped for the best.
As I walked down the aisle, I took comfort in knowing that my seat was toward the back of the plane. People seated in the back of the plane have slightly better odds of survival than those up front. Personally, I would have preferred to sit in the black box, but my ticket was for seat 22A, so I had to settle for that.
Dressed in my business suit and being careful to not bump anyone with my sleek and stylish carry on bag, I skillfully maneuvered the (exaggeration) 6" wide aisle and made my way toward the back of the plane and opened a stowage compartment, lifted my roll on bag above my head and tried to slide it into the unit. It slid in about an inch or two and then just stopped. So I tried again. And again. Then panic set in. I was sure I could feel 40 some-odd sets of eyes on me. I didn't bother to check as I pulled the bag out of the compartment and tried to place it in another compartment. Same result. I'm now standing at the very back of the plane, pushing and shoving and tilting it every which way trying to make it fit. I was confused-the bag fit into the "smart cart" thing they keep by the check-in desks in the terminal. You know the ones where if your bag will fit in the box, it'll fit on the plane? One of those. Finally, I pulled it out, mentally cursed it, and tried again...and thankfully/miraculously, it fit.
So with that task out of the way, I was making my way to my seat. Yes-it was a window seat, which means a good view and something other than my seatmate's shoulder to rest my head on should I actually relax enough to doze. She stood up a bit to allow me to slide past her and I stepped into the seating area, facing her (crotch as oppsed to ass, as 'Fight Club' so eloquently described). Feeling pretty good about finally getting to sit down and buckle up for the trip, I started to sit down into my seat when I felt my foot catch on hers. And down I went...as reflex, putting my right arm out to stop my fall, grabbing the head of the guy sitting in front of me as I fell into my seat. I swear I felt the hair on his head scoot backward as I went down into my chair. Toupee! Did I just rip off this guy's toupee?
I had no hair in my hands. I peered over the seat to see him smoothing his hair and I apologized for nearly scalping him (a simple "I'm terribly sorry about that") and sat there for a moment smoothing my suit and trying not to laugh. A few minutes later, the tiny jet took off as I mentally chanted three words and thought of happy things. And even a few minutes more later, I was up in the air, watching St. Louis grow smaller by the second, allowing myself to think in wonder and amazement "wow, I'm flying."
For the past couple of years, I've had this thing about flying. I wouldn't say I was afraid to fly, but I definitely experienced the quickening of the pulse, sweaty brow, and dry mouth associated with mild anxiety. I hate having mild anxiety; it's neurotic behavior which is ultimately time-wasting. It's inefficient and stupid. However, the thought of being hurled through the air in an alumnium tube with no real control over my fate did tend to elicit the same reaction once solely reserved for encountering spiders. But, when flying to an interview for a job which requires traveling (by air), there really is no other option than to just go into things with a sense of humor and hope for the best.
So Monday morning, I boarded a 50 person capacity regional jet and hoped for the best.
As I walked down the aisle, I took comfort in knowing that my seat was toward the back of the plane. People seated in the back of the plane have slightly better odds of survival than those up front. Personally, I would have preferred to sit in the black box, but my ticket was for seat 22A, so I had to settle for that.
Dressed in my business suit and being careful to not bump anyone with my sleek and stylish carry on bag, I skillfully maneuvered the (exaggeration) 6" wide aisle and made my way toward the back of the plane and opened a stowage compartment, lifted my roll on bag above my head and tried to slide it into the unit. It slid in about an inch or two and then just stopped. So I tried again. And again. Then panic set in. I was sure I could feel 40 some-odd sets of eyes on me. I didn't bother to check as I pulled the bag out of the compartment and tried to place it in another compartment. Same result. I'm now standing at the very back of the plane, pushing and shoving and tilting it every which way trying to make it fit. I was confused-the bag fit into the "smart cart" thing they keep by the check-in desks in the terminal. You know the ones where if your bag will fit in the box, it'll fit on the plane? One of those. Finally, I pulled it out, mentally cursed it, and tried again...and thankfully/miraculously, it fit.
So with that task out of the way, I was making my way to my seat. Yes-it was a window seat, which means a good view and something other than my seatmate's shoulder to rest my head on should I actually relax enough to doze. She stood up a bit to allow me to slide past her and I stepped into the seating area, facing her (crotch as oppsed to ass, as 'Fight Club' so eloquently described). Feeling pretty good about finally getting to sit down and buckle up for the trip, I started to sit down into my seat when I felt my foot catch on hers. And down I went...as reflex, putting my right arm out to stop my fall, grabbing the head of the guy sitting in front of me as I fell into my seat. I swear I felt the hair on his head scoot backward as I went down into my chair. Toupee! Did I just rip off this guy's toupee?
I had no hair in my hands. I peered over the seat to see him smoothing his hair and I apologized for nearly scalping him (a simple "I'm terribly sorry about that") and sat there for a moment smoothing my suit and trying not to laugh. A few minutes later, the tiny jet took off as I mentally chanted three words and thought of happy things. And even a few minutes more later, I was up in the air, watching St. Louis grow smaller by the second, allowing myself to think in wonder and amazement "wow, I'm flying."
Friday, March 18, 2005
Top Ten Reasons I Need a Spring Break
1. I need a change of scenery.
2. I need some sleep.
3. Time with Grandpa! is awesome.
4. Ski soda.
5. Knotty Pine Fried Chicken.
6. Detox from Murray is necessary to survive the rest of the semester.
7. Detox from people is necessary to survive the rest of the semester...and necessary for the survival of some of said people.
8. A week of watching movies and reading books would be nice.
9. ...so would a homecooked meal.
10. I need to get out of town.
1. I need a change of scenery.
2. I need some sleep.
3. Time with Grandpa! is awesome.
4. Ski soda.
5. Knotty Pine Fried Chicken.
6. Detox from Murray is necessary to survive the rest of the semester.
7. Detox from people is necessary to survive the rest of the semester...and necessary for the survival of some of said people.
8. A week of watching movies and reading books would be nice.
9. ...so would a homecooked meal.
10. I need to get out of town.
Thursday, March 17, 2005
Travel Itenerary
Monday: Fly from St. Louis to Atlanta. Obtain rental car. Drive to Gwinette County and check into the Hampton Inn. Drive to Liberty Mutual Office. Interview. Dinner. Sleep, write post cards (holla if you want one), and kick around the Hampton Inn.
Tuesday: Drive to Ponce de Leon to see my sorority's headquarters (yay for HUGE antebellum mansions). Proceed to Atlanta airport. Fly to St. Louis. Be collected by Dad.
Wait for word from Liberty Mutual. Yay or ney? I'm not going to worry about it. All I can do is go show them what I know and what I can do. The thought of southern living interests me, but I have faith that I'll end up where I'm supposed to be right now. Either way, there's nothing to worry about, nothing to fear.
Step Off 2005
Where do I even begin...describing this year's Alpha Phi Alpha Step Show...
As with last year, I'll break it down:
The hate-o-meter: 4 (as in groups that reminded us not to hate)
The movie-theme-o-meter: 3.5 with homages to The Matrix, Poltergeist, Napolean Dynomite, and maybe Drumline (hence the 0.5)
The die-midstep-o-meter: 2 (with 1 successful resucitation!)
The fall-down-o-meter: 3 with one near miss (near chair tip)
The clean-up-your-mess-o-meter: 2 "Sorority come clean up the mess you've made!"
The smoke-machine-o-meter: 3
The flashing lights in the dark-o-meter: 2
The hijack your show with a dork-o-meter: 1
...I think I should make the video of Napolean Dynamite slapping a blue man and running away should be made into a gif...
This year's show did not last nearly as long as last year's did. I was shocked that I was home and chilling before 10 pm. The show was quite entertaining and it's always fun to see what the different groups will cook up for a routine. If you've never been to a step show, I highly recommend checking one out.
Monday: Fly from St. Louis to Atlanta. Obtain rental car. Drive to Gwinette County and check into the Hampton Inn. Drive to Liberty Mutual Office. Interview. Dinner. Sleep, write post cards (holla if you want one), and kick around the Hampton Inn.
Tuesday: Drive to Ponce de Leon to see my sorority's headquarters (yay for HUGE antebellum mansions). Proceed to Atlanta airport. Fly to St. Louis. Be collected by Dad.
Wait for word from Liberty Mutual. Yay or ney? I'm not going to worry about it. All I can do is go show them what I know and what I can do. The thought of southern living interests me, but I have faith that I'll end up where I'm supposed to be right now. Either way, there's nothing to worry about, nothing to fear.
Step Off 2005
Where do I even begin...describing this year's Alpha Phi Alpha Step Show...
As with last year, I'll break it down:
The hate-o-meter: 4 (as in groups that reminded us not to hate)
The movie-theme-o-meter: 3.5 with homages to The Matrix, Poltergeist, Napolean Dynomite, and maybe Drumline (hence the 0.5)
The die-midstep-o-meter: 2 (with 1 successful resucitation!)
The fall-down-o-meter: 3 with one near miss (near chair tip)
The clean-up-your-mess-o-meter: 2 "Sorority come clean up the mess you've made!"
The smoke-machine-o-meter: 3
The flashing lights in the dark-o-meter: 2
The hijack your show with a dork-o-meter: 1
...I think I should make the video of Napolean Dynamite slapping a blue man and running away should be made into a gif...
This year's show did not last nearly as long as last year's did. I was shocked that I was home and chilling before 10 pm. The show was quite entertaining and it's always fun to see what the different groups will cook up for a routine. If you've never been to a step show, I highly recommend checking one out.
Saturday, March 12, 2005
The Darkly Marvelous Works of Edward Gorey
Ever in search of all that is interesting and new, I've stumbled upon the works of the late writer/artist Edward Gorey. His works are visually interesting and darkly beautiful. After looking through his body of work, I can see how it could have influenced Tim Burton and definitely the look of all things Lemony Snickett. Gorey was also inspiration for the Mark Romanek directed video "The Perfect Drug," which is definitely in my list of preferred music videos. Anyway, if you're tastes are oriented toward the darker end of the artistic spectrum, I highly suggest you check out his work.
Ever in search of all that is interesting and new, I've stumbled upon the works of the late writer/artist Edward Gorey. His works are visually interesting and darkly beautiful. After looking through his body of work, I can see how it could have influenced Tim Burton and definitely the look of all things Lemony Snickett. Gorey was also inspiration for the Mark Romanek directed video "The Perfect Drug," which is definitely in my list of preferred music videos. Anyway, if you're tastes are oriented toward the darker end of the artistic spectrum, I highly suggest you check out his work.
Monday, March 07, 2005
Distance Chess
I need a volunteer. I've found a chess set in the desk next to my cubicle and now that I've more or less refamiliarized myself with how to play, I'm ready to get an on-going game started. Inspired by both the urge to do something quirky and one of the rooftop scenes in Dawn of the Dead, I'd like to get a long-distance game of chess going.
I'm looking for someone who would be willing to keep a chessboard next to their desk/working area/on a table/etc and instant message, text message, and or phone call their moves back and forth with me. Moves will be transmitted using algebraic chess notation.
Any other details will be worked out when making communication for getting everything ready.
This has great potential to be a lot of fun. I'm looking forward to a worthy opponent.
I need a volunteer. I've found a chess set in the desk next to my cubicle and now that I've more or less refamiliarized myself with how to play, I'm ready to get an on-going game started. Inspired by both the urge to do something quirky and one of the rooftop scenes in Dawn of the Dead, I'd like to get a long-distance game of chess going.
I'm looking for someone who would be willing to keep a chessboard next to their desk/working area/on a table/etc and instant message, text message, and or phone call their moves back and forth with me. Moves will be transmitted using algebraic chess notation.
Any other details will be worked out when making communication for getting everything ready.
This has great potential to be a lot of fun. I'm looking forward to a worthy opponent.
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