Rogers A-Hoy

Emily: "Can't you just drop it?"
Josh: "Never. I'm gonna ride this horse into space."

I never needed siblings. I had Rogers.
(P.S. My mother found a squishy kitten behind the barn.)

A, A, A, B, A

I got four A's and a B (in French), which essentially makes me happy because even though Dr. Kress is trying to kill because I didn't like France, I'm still in the running for Summa Cum Laude.

Also, this just proves that I am capable of more than I thought because in my mind, The Conglomerate(+)The Bookstore(+)Senior Sem(+)Reading Until My Face Imploded(-) Time to go A'TKEing= Suicide. Only for the meek, my friend. Only for the meek.

I'm reading Jarhead. Any good hippy you should read it. Ohh-rah.

Labor Omnia Vincit

So, the other day in the midst of absentmindedly searching the internet for something to *ahem* do with my life after I graduate, I remembered why I came to college in the first place. When I graduated from highschool I had noooooooooooooo idea what I wanted to do. At graduation I told the Principal to say "Roxie is going travel the world before attending culinary school," which as we all know is a lie, but it kept him from saying "Roxie is entering THE WORLD OF WORK" which they always say like they're announcing to the whole school that you have terminal cancer.

Anyway, I spent hours in high school reading the websites for Americorps and the Peace Corps (I also spent hours in chat rooms about japanese cartoons, but that's beside the point). Anyway the other day I remembered that the half the reason I went to college is that you can get a better job in the Peace Corps if you have a degree. The other half of the reason is that I looooove being around smart people. Seriously, nerds make me so happy.

I'm nervous now though because I've realized that if I want to do what *I* want to do in the Peace Corps, which would be digging holes, playing in the dirt, talking to plants and talking to people about plants, if I want to do that I have to have a) a degree in something botany or ag management or b) about three years experience in the park service.

Here's the problem: I'm graduating with a genius degree in English and French which means that they're going to place me in some former french colony teaching little kids to count in English, which would still be cool but it isn't ideal. (That is if the peace corps would take me.)

Can I go to grad school for dirt studies if I gruduated in Moby Dick studies? Someday I want my PhD in English, and I want to write, but you have to know about cool things if you want to write about cool things. Right, Jack London? Right? (Write?)

Oh yeah. And just when I was in the middle of a nearly six-month mix tape slump I got a whole package of mix tapes from my friend Alexis in San Fransisco. Talk about having crazy awesome friends: Alexis is one of those relaxed, ecclectic, wise, intellectual people who just totally grabs the attention of everyone around him. And he sent me about four hours worth of music, most of which he made himself. I have no idea what to send to him in return. All I have are paint-by-numbers.

I read a book about eggs today at the library where Tim used to work. Snails eat their own eggshells after they hatch. Turtles hatch by breaking out of their shells like sumo wrestlers. Baby owls look like aliens. Libraries are amazing.

Yessssssss.

Finally, yesterday, I finished my finals/final papers.

Things I love:
1) Kim Van Hossier-Carrey (Because she gave me an A before I even completed my paper)
2) My Women's Lit paper (Because it's sheer genius)
3) Anything that has nothing to do with last semester's classes.

Things I don't love so much:
1) French, and everything associated with it.
2) Being too broke to buy Christmas presents
3) Sexism. ("I don't believe in Beatles, I just believe in me," said John)

I've finally decided that I'm going to that pesky (in that it requires me to return to Shreveport prematurely) Lerchie wedding--everyone at home is going to be mad because I'll only be there for two weeks, but this is sort of my last chance to be here for anything my friends do "in the off-season." I do wish I could spend the whole break at home though. Everyone who lives close to home seems to be tired of their parents, but I've done this split-christmas thing for 14 years and it's a little old, I just want to see everyone. In a perfect world, everyone comes to my house for the holidays.

(PS. Tim just tried to call his mom in the livingroom and called me instead (I'm in the bedroom), and then couldn't figure out why "she" (i.e. me) was listening to the same music that I am. Meanwhile I'm wondering why he's so lazy that he can't walk down the hall to talk to me.)

Otherwise, I'm relatively certain that I massacred every class but French, in which I'm pretty sure he's giving me an arbitrary "B." To that I say "merde" and move on with my life.

I can't believe how many novels I read this semester for my literature classes. Somewhere in the range of a million. And, joy of all joys, they were all good except one. That makes 99,999,999 novels that were awesome and hopefully equal A's.

Meanwhile, I'm hungry and I have to head to my own house to pack for the break. Kacie and Sarah and I never decorated our house, but I put my advent calendar by the front door so that we look at least somewhat involved. Though I think that those advent calendars that have chocolate in each window, despite how awesome they are, are kind of funny because I think technically you're supposed to fast during Advent just like Lent. Meh.

Happy Holidaying. Let's all get as fat as possible and be happy in it!

Whereas: Idaho is still worthless

1. haven't read The Best Page in the Universe for a while- was excited to see that someone else thinks that Idaho is Hell. Idahell, in fact.
2. think this: http://www3.state.id.us/oasis/HCR029.html is the funniest/saddest thing I've seen all day.
3. want a burrito. No matter how many burritos I eat I want another.
4. Convinced burrito means "little donkey" in spanish. (Burro= donkey, ito=little, burro+ito= little donkey.)
5. mortified that internet search for images of burritos results in equal parts pictures of donkeys/food/babies/babies/cats.

Oh yeah, go see Shop Girl, too.

I've frequently heard people who "work out" and "exercise" say things like "that worked muscles I didn't know I had!"

As a testiment to what appears to be the fact that I'm utterly lazy and completely spoiled: Swedish massages are the most wonderful thing on earth and I plan to get one every day for the rest of my life as soon as I sell a few of my unneeded organ on Ebay.

Typically the (non-company) perks of living with your Grandmother for a week include (not necessarily in this order): dishes of candy sitting around the house, enough cookies to cause blood sugar poisoning, new socks (always new socks), vanished responsibilities (ie: when you try to do something responsible you find it's already been done) and now: Swedish massages in your own house, first thing in the morning.

I was going to rake the lawn today but my messeuse told me to "take it easy." I'm currently laughing with self-indulgent glee-- even if it only lasts for one day.

Tomorrow it's back to Shreveport and all that responsibility crap. Oh. My. God. I'm so exctited about buying people Christmas presents. Tell me what you want.

I'm in the High-Fidelity, First Class Traveling Section...

I love flying. I love airplanes. I love the simultanious order and chaos of airports.

This is my 12th flight this year and for some reason this time I was N.E.R.V.O.U.S. I thought perhaps that I was nervous because, oh, say, the plane was going to go down in flames-- turns out I was mostly just nervous about having to wear the same underwear for a week and a half.

My luggage has never gotten lost before so I didn't know what when your luggage doesn't show up the best explaination they will be able to give you for the following 13 hours is: "we're sure it's on one of the planes," and "we really have no idea where it is; it never showed up."

neat.

My underwear (and everything else) did arrive finally but I think between that and my five hour layover in Minnapolis I'm not going to mess with Northwestern again.

Being home is nice. I wasn't sure what I would do. Every trip has a purpose. We say: "I'm going home for the Holiday," or, "I'm going home for a funeral." It was both this time and it's sort of hard to reconcile the two.

You couldn't have picked a clearer, brighter, more beautiful day to say goodbye to my grandfather. It's true, I see, that he knew most everyone in this town and was loved by all of them. The hardest part is just the space that is no longer filled. This enormous gap where a lot of laughter used to be. Grandma is still funny and brite, but this house is a half-house. Just not whole. Just too quiet: not enough country western.

Anyway I'm tired of saying goodbyes so if you're planning on passing away, forget it. It's time for showing up and not for leaving.