books and libretti (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} bookslibretti) wrote,@ 2008-02-21 17:23:00 |
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This week has gone by really fast -- well, logically, since Monday was off and I start chillaxing on Thursday nights.
On Monday, Doug was still here, and it was like 6 by the time he left, so I accomplished pretty much nothing (although on Saturday morning, I did get my apartment sparkling clean before he came over). That evening, I just moped around for absolutely no good reason. (Edit: Except for the fact that on hotornot [which he made me join it is not my fault] I have a 7.2 and he has an 8.9. That's good for some moping right there.)
On Tuesday, I made homemade chicken-noodle soup out of leftovers. Some time last week, I had roasted a chicken, had some for dinner that night, brought it to work for lunch for days, and still had plenty of leftover scraps. Those went in the pot, along with sliced celery and carrot coins put in at the last minute so they'd stay crunchy and awesome. I'm serving it over leftover whole-wheat noodles and it is so good. That's the best part about DIY, whether it's food, clothes, or music -- it's completely customized to exactly what you want.
On Tuesday I also got about half a stripe done on my huge NYU scarf/shawl. Between cooking, cleaning, and sewing, obviously the nesting instinct is at work here; I'd thought Implanon would eliminate that, but, uh, apparently no. And it continues!
On Wednesday, I got my paycheck cashed, my mom came in (her school's on break this week), and we went GROCERY SHOPPING. This was serious excitement for me, because I haven't been shopping forever since I've been out of money, and because I'd been out of staples (like salt), and now having not just staples but also extravagances (grapes were on sale!) is an amazing feeling.
While she was here, she treated me to lunch, which I decided to make my cheat meal. We went to Cozy Soup & Burger and it was amaaaazing. I mean, it was standard good diner fare -- grilled cheese with bacon, curly fries, and a chocolate shake -- but to someone who hasn't had any of those things in about a year, goddamn. Amazing.
I also got to take home my dried head after makeup class. I'm not sure exactly what can be done with it. Right now it's chilling on my bookshelf as a semi-grotesque, semi-laughably-fake conversation piece.
Thursday is, uh, today by my calculations. I was freaked about performing another monologue in my acting class, especially since I'd chosen the piece on, oh, Tuesday morning, and it was twenty arrhythmic, non-rhymed lines -- so no crutches there. And this is for the class where virtually everyone is a Tischie.
My passage was about a beautiful queen, so I felt like maybe wearing something nicer than a hoodie, and I also wanted to feel more confident, and feeling attractive is a shortcut to that. So remember the red slutty turtleneck sweater? I wore exactly that but in green, along with nice jeans and Mary Janes. It went too far, though, and made me less confident because I was self-conscious and kept tugging at it. Argh.
Anyway, before the performance, I was panicking just a smidge about memorization, but I did it without asking for more than two lines -- and I'd known them, it just would've taken more than a second to recall them. When it came time for comments, one guy (who instantly became one of my favorite people) actually complimented my memorization.
In my next class, I had a presentation due. Fortunately, I'd chosen to do a bio of Queen Elizabeth, so it took me all of two minutes to prepare (aka to check dates). Actually presenting it wasn't something I enjoyed, but I did a good job, so I was pleased. During the discussion, the teacher (who doesn't know a terrible amount outside her specialty of medieval Spain) kept calling on me (she knows that I'm a senior MARS major and that renaissance England is my area of interest). It reached the point where I was afraid of looking like a jerk, but I think I moderated my phrasing enough that it didn't look like I thought I was hot shit. I hope so, anyway.
Then I went to buy a course reader. It was $14, I pulled out my credit card, and the guy tells me there's a $15 minimum, would I like to buy a $5 glue stick? Well, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it was something equally stupid, anyway. I said -- and I was totally the textbook model of assertive rather than aggressive -- "I don't think that's allowed; American Express doesn't let you set minimums" (true, except in one unlikely circumstance).
He told me there was an ATM next door. I frowned, but I was actually going to go use it -- my USAA debit card refunds all ATM fees -- but I didn't say so, and I was accidentally slow about handing back the course pack and putting my wallet away, so he must have thought I was leaving. He did a huge dramatic sigh and was all "Never mind, never mind, I'll charge you $14." Thank you for obeying your contract; sorry I'm not buying a marked-up glue stick.
Right now, I'd usually be seeing Ben, but his schedule didn't work out this week, so instead I'm supposed to be doing laundry. Obviously, I'm not, so maybe the nesting instinct has run its course and I'm safe again. I do need to do laundry, though, but it can wait for tomorrow . . . I think. A sock crisis is looming in the not-too-distant future.
Edit: Also today, I got a letter about what's going to appear on my diploma. They got it wrong, of course, and of course I've already tried three different NYU offices that gave me the red-tape runaround and finally told me to appear in person (which I can't do until next Tuesday, and it'd sure be nice to take care of things faster than that). But my point here is not that I hate NYU bureaucracy, it is that I am going to be getting a diploma and graduating holy shit. It still hasn't sunk in; this is just a tiny taste of the "They're really going to kick me out? No more classes? No more Bobst? No more spacious, gorgeous dorm?" shock in store.
On Monday, Doug was still here, and it was like 6 by the time he left, so I accomplished pretty much nothing (although on Saturday morning, I did get my apartment sparkling clean before he came over). That evening, I just moped around for absolutely no good reason. (Edit: Except for the fact that on hotornot [which he made me join it is not my fault] I have a 7.2 and he has an 8.9. That's good for some moping right there.)
On Tuesday, I made homemade chicken-noodle soup out of leftovers. Some time last week, I had roasted a chicken, had some for dinner that night, brought it to work for lunch for days, and still had plenty of leftover scraps. Those went in the pot, along with sliced celery and carrot coins put in at the last minute so they'd stay crunchy and awesome. I'm serving it over leftover whole-wheat noodles and it is so good. That's the best part about DIY, whether it's food, clothes, or music -- it's completely customized to exactly what you want.
On Tuesday I also got about half a stripe done on my huge NYU scarf/shawl. Between cooking, cleaning, and sewing, obviously the nesting instinct is at work here; I'd thought Implanon would eliminate that, but, uh, apparently no. And it continues!
On Wednesday, I got my paycheck cashed, my mom came in (her school's on break this week), and we went GROCERY SHOPPING. This was serious excitement for me, because I haven't been shopping forever since I've been out of money, and because I'd been out of staples (like salt), and now having not just staples but also extravagances (grapes were on sale!) is an amazing feeling.
While she was here, she treated me to lunch, which I decided to make my cheat meal. We went to Cozy Soup & Burger and it was amaaaazing. I mean, it was standard good diner fare -- grilled cheese with bacon, curly fries, and a chocolate shake -- but to someone who hasn't had any of those things in about a year, goddamn. Amazing.
I also got to take home my dried head after makeup class. I'm not sure exactly what can be done with it. Right now it's chilling on my bookshelf as a semi-grotesque, semi-laughably-fake conversation piece.
Thursday is, uh, today by my calculations. I was freaked about performing another monologue in my acting class, especially since I'd chosen the piece on, oh, Tuesday morning, and it was twenty arrhythmic, non-rhymed lines -- so no crutches there. And this is for the class where virtually everyone is a Tischie.
My passage was about a beautiful queen, so I felt like maybe wearing something nicer than a hoodie, and I also wanted to feel more confident, and feeling attractive is a shortcut to that. So remember the red slutty turtleneck sweater? I wore exactly that but in green, along with nice jeans and Mary Janes. It went too far, though, and made me less confident because I was self-conscious and kept tugging at it. Argh.
Anyway, before the performance, I was panicking just a smidge about memorization, but I did it without asking for more than two lines -- and I'd known them, it just would've taken more than a second to recall them. When it came time for comments, one guy (who instantly became one of my favorite people) actually complimented my memorization.
In my next class, I had a presentation due. Fortunately, I'd chosen to do a bio of Queen Elizabeth, so it took me all of two minutes to prepare (aka to check dates). Actually presenting it wasn't something I enjoyed, but I did a good job, so I was pleased. During the discussion, the teacher (who doesn't know a terrible amount outside her specialty of medieval Spain) kept calling on me (she knows that I'm a senior MARS major and that renaissance England is my area of interest). It reached the point where I was afraid of looking like a jerk, but I think I moderated my phrasing enough that it didn't look like I thought I was hot shit. I hope so, anyway.
Then I went to buy a course reader. It was $14, I pulled out my credit card, and the guy tells me there's a $15 minimum, would I like to buy a $5 glue stick? Well, maybe it wasn't that bad, but it was something equally stupid, anyway. I said -- and I was totally the textbook model of assertive rather than aggressive -- "I don't think that's allowed; American Express doesn't let you set minimums" (true, except in one unlikely circumstance).
He told me there was an ATM next door. I frowned, but I was actually going to go use it -- my USAA debit card refunds all ATM fees -- but I didn't say so, and I was accidentally slow about handing back the course pack and putting my wallet away, so he must have thought I was leaving. He did a huge dramatic sigh and was all "Never mind, never mind, I'll charge you $14." Thank you for obeying your contract; sorry I'm not buying a marked-up glue stick.
Right now, I'd usually be seeing Ben, but his schedule didn't work out this week, so instead I'm supposed to be doing laundry. Obviously, I'm not, so maybe the nesting instinct has run its course and I'm safe again. I do need to do laundry, though, but it can wait for tomorrow . . . I think. A sock crisis is looming in the not-too-distant future.
Edit: Also today, I got a letter about what's going to appear on my diploma. They got it wrong, of course, and of course I've already tried three different NYU offices that gave me the red-tape runaround and finally told me to appear in person (which I can't do until next Tuesday, and it'd sure be nice to take care of things faster than that). But my point here is not that I hate NYU bureaucracy, it is that I am going to be getting a diploma and graduating holy shit. It still hasn't sunk in; this is just a tiny taste of the "They're really going to kick me out? No more classes? No more Bobst? No more spacious, gorgeous dorm?" shock in store.
