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Friday, October 12, 2001
Question for my university: Why do we have to write "papers"? Can't we just write "reports"? What's wrong with reports? In their nice plastic report covers? They were certainly good enough before college, and I learned so much. I learned about the buttercup flower, the Iroquois Indians and Australia. I learned about the Habsburgs and Andrew Jackson and Sarajevo. Why all this emphasis on analysis? Can't we just crack open a World Book Encyclopedia, like in the good old days, and switch a few words around? Because frankly, I don't have any new theories, at all, on anything.
19:02
Thursday, October 11, 2001
Bonus quote: "How can anyone not notice the huge glaring Bert?!" -- Metafilter comment
19:32
Wednesday, October 10, 2001
"All we are is what we're told and most of that's been lies." -- The Goo Goo Dolls
21:42
Amanda and I saw a mouse in our kitchen last night. All of our post-grad worries, pre-nuclear meltdown fears vanished instantly and suddenly this kitchen, this mouse, was the whole world to us. We mobilized into action. After we screamed, Amanda rummaged for the phone number of a guy, any guy who would heed our plight. We needed an ally. Patrick answered our desperate call, even though he usually doesn't do the mouse thing. Armed with a bucket, a baseball bat and a mop, we warily approached the kitchen. Intelligence forces (a.k.a. Me) had been watching the kitchen with apprehension. We knew where it was hiding: somewhere near the stove. It was making little mouse shufflings and scratchings. We banged, tapped, pounded and spoke to it softly. It would not come out. It even became silent. Then we lulled the enemy into thinking we'd gone. Suddenly, a scratching. It sounded like it had crawled somehow *into* the mechanism of the refrigerator. We marveled at its cunning and moved the fridge. Nada. Then, Amanda spotted a hole for the gas line in the cupboard that is wedged between the stove and the fridge. This hole, so hidden yet so obvious, was probably Mouse Home Base. We waited patiently, weapons in hand, for it to make a move. And it did. But we couldn't see it. Its activities were always just out of sight, just out of reach. This mouse, how dare it come into our home and invade our cupboard? Alas. There was nothing we could do but barricade off the kitchen and hope it stayed hidden. At this time there are no plans to drop humanitarian aid to the surrounding mice population, although we are considering a trap baited with peanut butter.
11:32
Tuesday, October 09, 2001
Update: So yesterday was my birthday. 21. Yay. Margaritas and Mexican food. Yum.
14:45
Update: Sunday was the Chicago Marathon. It was 26.2 miles, started at 7:30 a.m., and this year Amanda was running it. Tara, Eliina and I woke up at 5am to catch the El downtown for it. Unfortunately the trains didn't start running until, oh, 7. So we waited and watched our breath freeze and paced around for an hour. We were dressed a little crazy, with Eliina and Tara wearing bright blue wigs so Amanda could spot us. They got a few "nice hair" comments from random people. One man stumbling around the station noted that we didn't "care about the men". Once we got downtown, we found out being a spectator is a sport all its own. The smart people rode bikes to follow their friends' courses, other spectators scurried around deserted back streets trying to catch the runners as they looped around. At one point we jumped in a cab and rode for five minutes to catch Amanda at the 22-mile mark. Some runners had their names on their shirts so we could cheer for them as they passed. Some carried huge American flags. One guy was dressed as Captain America and carried a shield. You'd think the energy would die down at the end, but it was palpable where we stood around mile 22, with the theme from Rocky blaring as the runners rounded a corner.
14:41
Monday, October 08, 2001
Bonus quote: "You'll always be a kid. Just because you have a nice personality." -- My sister Christina, on me turning 21
00:01
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