Well, I think my computer is dead, judging from the "oh shit" noises the Indian man on the phone kept making when I tried to tell him about my problem. I did get to take my hard drive out of my computer, though, and now I have a strong temptation to play with it. I'm glad I have most of my stuff backed up, but this is quite a shock. I had just been planning to hold on to it for the next few years seeing as how it was doing so well and had never had any major problems. Plus, I just hate all other touch pads. I'm using Hope's computer right now, "Abi Something." Eb, I believe you have cursed me with this dying computer syndrome. That wasn't just a cold you had.
Yesterday I had a good life, hanging out with friends, singing hymns and playing Settlers of Catan, but last night I came back to Boston to discover my darling computer, Fatimah, who I missed so much, decided to turn into a brain dead idiot in my absence. It's so sad, my friends. I can't help but feel that if I'd brought her with me this wouldn't have happened. And of course the only thing on it that I didn't save is my personal statement necessary for all of my grad school applications. I hate my life and I want to die.
Now I could just retype the essay, but it's more fun to be melodramatic. Oh, and if you have the slightest idea that you might be feeling depressed the following day don't stay up late reading Shopgirl. This morning I woke up and felt all empty and frightened and decided I didn't want to do anything for the rest of my life because it would all be horrible anyway. Sorry, it's not that I didn't like the book, it's just that I . . . it affected me negatively. But now I am listening to one of the best mixes to come out of Fifth North--Emily Elliot Barfhead's "Songs for the Saddest Days." As Dr. Hesselink would say, "hmmm."
I had the greatest Thanksgiving. One good thing about being out of college--considerably less sexual tension. Ah, Covenant College. But it was great to see friends graduated and un-, along with my dear brother, and to enjoy paper games and board games and good fellowship. Evan, who was there, put it well. Yes, thanksgiving, and pray for my computer, because it is like a part of myself. And pray for me, as I try to get this grad school stuff finished up this week so I can stop feeling like my life means nothing (but, please, no pity).
This is what I've been waiting for! Man, and I just found out that it's this weekend, and tickets are apparently sold out! I put my name on the waiting list, though. If I can't go see the Star Wars Musical at MIT what good will my life be to me? (Gen 27:46, slightly altered)
Okay, here's a question for you, if you could spend Thanksgiving with any character or set of characters from a movie, who would it be? (and they don't have to be American, they don't even have to be post-1620)
On Friday night Hope, Keri, and I were cocktail waitresses at a jazz club in Cambridge. It was pretty fun and spiffy--pay, tips, food, and a free concert. But I realized that I am terribly shy around strangers. I have such a hard time just going up to people and talking, let alone taking orders and handing out checks. This was my first real waitressing job and I like the way it feels, kind of like acting with the "backstage" and the "performance," but I'm not sure if I'll be doing it again. I got the job on "waiting experience." The only experience I've had was serving a dinner party in Paris that my friend's parents gave. There I dropped one of the rolls, picked it up, dusted it off, and put it back on the platter, all in front of the American, Australian, and French diplomats at the party. This is why I'm not going into the foreign service. That dinner party was also my only experience with foie gras. I thought it was the most horrible stuff I've ever tasted.
A recommendation: Stage Beauty. I watched it for the second time tonight and liked it just as well as I did the first time. It made me love Claire Danes. (But not like that.)
Another recommendation: Coraline by Neil Gaiman. Delicious chills. (Sorry, I've been reading Anne of Green Gables so I just talk like that.)
Goodnight.
man, I could really go for some chocolate digestive biscuits right now.
I'm sitting in my cold house, drinking tea and recovering from yesterday's harrowing GRE experience. I took the GRE from an out-of-the-way test center on Wormwood St. The part of Boston it was in reminded me of something out of The Matrix (sorry about that, that's the only Matrix allussion you'll ever find on my blog) or the hell of Great Divorce. It was city, but not living city. It was a lot of narrow streets somehow surrounded by parking lots and tall buildings. Ick, the only fun thing about the experience was the candy in the waiting room. But . . . and I know I'm kind of sick for saying this, but it did feel good to be graded again. I really like these measurements. I go crazy without them. It reminds me of the Simpsons episode where the teachers go on strike and Lisa makes Marge write an "A" on a piece of paper so she can feel like she's gotten a grade. So apparently I have to go back to school, otherwise I will never be able to go on living.