Winter Break
Patrick beat me to this theme (darnit), but I've been thinking about it for a few weeks, so I'm writing it anyway.
Thanksgiving is supposed to be about giving thanks; hence the name-- but there's nothing like finals week to really make you count your blessings, as a prevention against falling into deep, soul-crushing anfechtung.
So. I give thanks for Stepanie's dining hall mochas, and D. Robes and his stentorian proclamations. For the Carmelas cookies in the Classics Cafe, and Anna's company while eating them. For Jack and Agatha, and their kitty company. For Dianna, Dawn, Grace and Ada--Ada gives the best hugs. For Calvert House. For Kathy, and Ghirardelli's on Sunday nights (or any time). For the Eucharist (that should come first). For Veronica, in any form and any time, and Carolyn-- girlfriends who make you feel like you're back in High School, but in a good way. For Vanessa, who doesn't assume I've completely lost my mind when I IM her thinking she's Veronica. For Geoff's blog. For Tom, who in his sanity balances out my moments of insanity; for Monty Python, and Hot Chocolate (or not), and warm blankets.
In other news: not every communique from Munaf is a light-hearted wooden mammoth affair: it was from him that I learned of the death of Joana Bryar-Matons, one of our High School spanish teachers. Joana taught at Urban from its inception. She was terrifying, and caring, and could always be counted on to stand in the student lounge area and shout "hora de clase!" at the top of her lungs when we were slow in getting to our seats after break. (I campaigned for giving up on the whole no-bell philosophy and investing in a didgeridoo.) I only had her for one class, in which she had us memorize Garcia Lorca. By the time I was in Spanish 3, she was in the hospital fighting cancer. She used to throw water from her water bottle at you if you weren't paying attention. I have a story about her involving Sam C, Ben N (I think), games on a TI-83, and some profanity... but that is Sam's story. I was terrified of her, and I loved her, and I will never forget her kindness to me when my aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was only when she gave me a hug after I recieved my diploma that saying goodbye made me cry.
In other, other news: if you would be so kind as to take a look at the lower right-hand side of the page, you should see a selection of books from my library, through one of my many internet addictions: LibraryThing. I have now added almost all of the books from my San Francisco library, and about a third of my Chicago library-- Terry Pratchett excluded. Check out my 325 + books here. Perhaps I have a problem. The next task is to go through marking the volumes that are still unread, those to be re-read, and reviewing those that I have read. The books are tagged in a way that may or may not make sense. They are also tagged by class, so if you want to know what we read in, say, 8th grade english, or 11th grade Shakespeare, or War in the Middle Ages... it's all there. (Once I tag all the 'unread' volumes, you can see how much WMA reading I didn't do!).
This is also an interesting track of obsessions. I own many volumes of comics and cartoons: I used to want to draw newspaper comics. I have a tag for 'dragons'-- last summer I went on a "Why are Americans Afraid of Dragons?" kick, with the hope that I could get a play out of it. There's some food writing, and some organic agriculture, some math, and a lot of physics.
My most common authors: CS Lewis, Jane Austen, Richard Feynman, William Shakespeare, E.B. White, and JRR Tolkien: not necessarily in that order. I'm afraid that when I add my 13 volumes of Pratchett, these authors will all be taking a step down. Most common authors on LibraryThing: JK Rowling, Terry Pratchett, Stephen King, Neil Gaiman (who?), CS Lewis, JRR Tolkien, William Shakespeare. I'd say that tells you something about the people who want catalogue their books online.
And I can't say that I wasn't pleased to see that I am the only one who posessess a copy of Epigraphic Evidence: Ancient History through Inscriptions. I'm such a dork.
Thanksgiving is supposed to be about giving thanks; hence the name-- but there's nothing like finals week to really make you count your blessings, as a prevention against falling into deep, soul-crushing anfechtung.
So. I give thanks for Stepanie's dining hall mochas, and D. Robes and his stentorian proclamations. For the Carmelas cookies in the Classics Cafe, and Anna's company while eating them. For Jack and Agatha, and their kitty company. For Dianna, Dawn, Grace and Ada--Ada gives the best hugs. For Calvert House. For Kathy, and Ghirardelli's on Sunday nights (or any time). For the Eucharist (that should come first). For Veronica, in any form and any time, and Carolyn-- girlfriends who make you feel like you're back in High School, but in a good way. For Vanessa, who doesn't assume I've completely lost my mind when I IM her thinking she's Veronica. For Geoff's blog. For Tom, who in his sanity balances out my moments of insanity; for Monty Python, and Hot Chocolate (or not), and warm blankets.
In other news: not every communique from Munaf is a light-hearted wooden mammoth affair: it was from him that I learned of the death of Joana Bryar-Matons, one of our High School spanish teachers. Joana taught at Urban from its inception. She was terrifying, and caring, and could always be counted on to stand in the student lounge area and shout "hora de clase!" at the top of her lungs when we were slow in getting to our seats after break. (I campaigned for giving up on the whole no-bell philosophy and investing in a didgeridoo.) I only had her for one class, in which she had us memorize Garcia Lorca. By the time I was in Spanish 3, she was in the hospital fighting cancer. She used to throw water from her water bottle at you if you weren't paying attention. I have a story about her involving Sam C, Ben N (I think), games on a TI-83, and some profanity... but that is Sam's story. I was terrified of her, and I loved her, and I will never forget her kindness to me when my aunt was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was only when she gave me a hug after I recieved my diploma that saying goodbye made me cry.
In other, other news: if you would be so kind as to take a look at the lower right-hand side of the page, you should see a selection of books from my library, through one of my many internet addictions: LibraryThing. I have now added almost all of the books from my San Francisco library, and about a third of my Chicago library-- Terry Pratchett excluded. Check out my 325 + books here. Perhaps I have a problem. The next task is to go through marking the volumes that are still unread, those to be re-read, and reviewing those that I have read. The books are tagged in a way that may or may not make sense. They are also tagged by class, so if you want to know what we read in, say, 8th grade english, or 11th grade Shakespeare, or War in the Middle Ages... it's all there. (Once I tag all the 'unread' volumes, you can see how much WMA reading I didn't do!).
This is also an interesting track of obsessions. I own many volumes of comics and cartoons: I used to want to draw newspaper comics. I have a tag for 'dragons'-- last summer I went on a "Why are Americans Afraid of Dragons?" kick, with the hope that I could get a play out of it. There's some food writing, and some organic agriculture, some math, and a lot of physics.
My most common authors: CS Lewis, Jane Austen, Richard Feynman, William Shakespeare, E.B. White, and JRR Tolkien: not necessarily in that order. I'm afraid that when I add my 13 volumes of Pratchett, these authors will all be taking a step down. Most common authors on LibraryThing: JK Rowling, Terry Pratchett, Stephen King, Neil Gaiman (who?), CS Lewis, JRR Tolkien, William Shakespeare. I'd say that tells you something about the people who want catalogue their books online.
And I can't say that I wasn't pleased to see that I am the only one who posessess a copy of Epigraphic Evidence: Ancient History through Inscriptions. I'm such a dork.
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