Daily update
Dec. 1st, 2005 12:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
brigdhI was gathering songs to do the latest music meme, because any excuse to post music is a good one, when I realized that all the "reminds you of your childhood/teenage years/someone special" ones were turning out incredibly depressing. Possibly this is because my childhood did, actually, suck, a fact I become more aware of as I move away from it, but more likely it's because I am horribly sick and therefore just want to mope at everything.
I would say Cheer Up, Emo Kid!, but I think I have the bird flu. I could die! I could start a mass pandemic bringing civilization to a crashing halt! My brain could melt out through my sinuses!
Speaking of civilizations spreading diseases, my roommate has had a book on her nightstand since I came back from Thanksgiving Break titled "A Saint among Savages". It is apparently about some missionary in the 1600s who tried to convert the Indians until he died of smallpox, or something like that, but the point is that it is living in my room, and it's embarrassing me. Every day I go off to my classes in the Anthropology building, where the heating doesn't work right and you can't drink the water from the drinking fountains because it has chalk in it and the lab is so ill-supplied that we have to steal boxes from the dumpster out back to keep artifacts in, and we talk about different cultures and people and isn't it neat the way everyone shares some things but has diversity in others and how can we know more about people, what can we learn about them, and all opinions are okay, except for that one about 'savages': we don't use that word, nope, it's the worst of the worst, hearkening back to the days of eugenics and skull-measuring and all that stuff that we try to distance ourselves from now. And then I get home and see this book. My roommate's book fills my soul with deep shame, people.
But, in an update on the status of my grad school applications (I know you've been waiting on the edge of your seats), I finally heard back from the professor I've spent weeks trying to get a hold of. He will not, obviously, be able to write a letter by tomorrow, but I've been reassured by the various people I spent the last two days bugging about letters of recommendation that it isn't terribly important; most letters tend to trickle in well after the deadline, and having two out of three is doing rather well, actually (if you know otherwise, please do not tell me. There's no more I can do at this point, and I'd rather live in denial, thank you).
Like everyone else, LJ has not been sending me comment notifications. I think I've managed to keep up fairly well here on my journal anyway, just by going to my latest posts and looking for comments, but if we were having a discussion elsewhere that I abandoned through LJ's neglect, please poke me about it here.
I would say Cheer Up, Emo Kid!, but I think I have the bird flu. I could die! I could start a mass pandemic bringing civilization to a crashing halt! My brain could melt out through my sinuses!
Speaking of civilizations spreading diseases, my roommate has had a book on her nightstand since I came back from Thanksgiving Break titled "A Saint among Savages". It is apparently about some missionary in the 1600s who tried to convert the Indians until he died of smallpox, or something like that, but the point is that it is living in my room, and it's embarrassing me. Every day I go off to my classes in the Anthropology building, where the heating doesn't work right and you can't drink the water from the drinking fountains because it has chalk in it and the lab is so ill-supplied that we have to steal boxes from the dumpster out back to keep artifacts in, and we talk about different cultures and people and isn't it neat the way everyone shares some things but has diversity in others and how can we know more about people, what can we learn about them, and all opinions are okay, except for that one about 'savages': we don't use that word, nope, it's the worst of the worst, hearkening back to the days of eugenics and skull-measuring and all that stuff that we try to distance ourselves from now. And then I get home and see this book. My roommate's book fills my soul with deep shame, people.
But, in an update on the status of my grad school applications (I know you've been waiting on the edge of your seats), I finally heard back from the professor I've spent weeks trying to get a hold of. He will not, obviously, be able to write a letter by tomorrow, but I've been reassured by the various people I spent the last two days bugging about letters of recommendation that it isn't terribly important; most letters tend to trickle in well after the deadline, and having two out of three is doing rather well, actually (if you know otherwise, please do not tell me. There's no more I can do at this point, and I'd rather live in denial, thank you).
Like everyone else, LJ has not been sending me comment notifications. I think I've managed to keep up fairly well here on my journal anyway, just by going to my latest posts and looking for comments, but if we were having a discussion elsewhere that I abandoned through LJ's neglect, please poke me about it here.
