"I can practically see your face / And another revolutionary falls from grace"
--Swamp Thing, The Chameleons UK

Absinthe + Handcuffs = Fun!
The best part about handcuffs is the look on your roommate's face when you leave with them.

Right. This weekend was interesting to say the least. I haven't been updating on the Laura situation, mostly because by the time I've calmed down about whateveritis long enough to write about it rationally, something has changed. Suffice to say that Sasha visited, Laura was ok with it, and everyone would have been much happier if they had just listened to me from the beginning. All in all I suffered from needless drama, heavy on both the drama and the needless. But the important part was that I saw my Sasha, and Laura and I are doing ok. Both of which are extremely good things, to the point of yay.

On the subject of Laura, this was a particularly bad weekend for her. Her exboyfriend's band swang by (yes I said swang, deal) and she went to see them. Not good, led to much crying. On top of this, Drunk Daniel decided this was the night she needed to deal with all sorts of other issues. The timing was just a tad off, as was the drunkenness. Totally not cool. You don't get details, since you really don't need to know any more than that this happened and I was around for dealing with it. And apparently, Daniel has some major unresolved issues with me which only come up when he's talking to other people while drunk. Which, quite honestly, is perfectly fine with me. If a bit amusing.

Justin Achilli has the best webradio station ever.

We did a few classes on TS Eliot's The Wasteland in Brit Lit. This mostly involved drawing pictures with scented markers. I totally want my group's project back so I can put it on my wall. The free-write we did on images will also be reclaimed, and posted under Poems. My American Lit prof did a full-semester graduate seminar on The Wasteland, and thought this two class thing was funny (Eliot is in both Norton's British and American Lit anthologies).

Talking to Sasha on the phone is odd at the best of times. I'm not saying that "odd" is the best we can manage. I mean that even at its best, the conversation will also leave me feeling weird afterwards. She doesn't say anything to hurt me. It's like she leaves words lying around that I keep picking up by the sharp ends. As much as I wish it wasn't, this is really my fault. And it's more than a little unfair of me considering that as her best friend, she's supposed to be able to talk about anything with me. It's in the job description, and I'm totally slacking. I'm attempting to make up for this by taking care of her house, sending her letters, and leaving her rare gifts. Addicted? Me? I'm not playing now, am I? Of course not - the store is closed.

I'm going to the gym again. And I sat outside reading with the purpose of tanning. Scary, huh?

So my fifteen minute meeting today with my Shakespeare prof turned into an hour and a half. It was supposed to be a standard everybody-has-to-have-one meeting about my Othello paper. Didn't end up that way. Started off talking about why I got the grade I did, what I could have fixed... then she decided that my paper was even more intelligent than she thought, but that much more scattered. The end result was that I was writing what should have been a much longer paper for a higher level course. Not quite a senior thesis because the argument wasn't developed enough. But she wants me to rewrite it instead of doing the next paper for the class. Suggested I think about presenting it at the next CAS Undergraduate Research Conference. Making it longer and continuing to work on it for other things, like bigger conferences, eventually higher level stuff like Grad student conferences and such.

At a certain point, she got a considering look on my face and asked me if I was at AU because they offered me the most money. Which they did. She told me I should be somewhere else, with a better Lit department. That I should be at a better school in general, but that I prolly already knew that. That AU only gets a Lit Major like me every four or five years. That I need to talk to Professor Sha (he's head of the undergrad Lit program) so I wind up with classes that'll have professors that'll be useful for me. That I should think about some grad student stuff for senior year. Some other things.

It was an interesting meeting. Made me feel kinda good about myself. But it also made me think about how much I fucked up at the end of high school. Deciding I didn't care about my grades, or where I went to school. I mean, I didn't. And I think I did good peoplewise at AU. But academically... I don't belong here. And I don't really like DC even a little bit. I have to wonder what it'd be like if I had gone to NYU. Or Haverford. Or Columbia. Or Harvard, Yale, Oxford, or any other place I could have gone if I had just bothered. But I didn't.

And then there was a riot.

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