I'm tired of going to school. Sometimes I come back from a break all energized and ready to get going again. This is not one of those times. Sigh.
It's quite sad the extent to which I look forward to television. I've been sitting around all day going, "Spike! Spike tonight! And Jack! And Clay! Eee!!!!" It really doesn't take much, sometimes, to make me happy.
Tuesday, March 25, 2003
Monday, March 24, 2003
I miss Spring Break already. Break, why have you forsaken me? Man, those were some good times. Fresh air, nice people, and, starting Thursday, nothing but war and basketball on the TV. I tell you what, Thursday and Friday were two of the best days ever. Watch some basketball, watch some war. Read a little. Back to the basketball. KU wins! Stuff gets blowed up. Read some more. Rinse. Repeat.
Speaking of KU, we were magnificently awesome against Arizona State in the second round. This is the team that I love, the team that runs the fast break, that out-rebounds and out-scores in the paint. The team that throws itself to the floor scrambling for a loose ball. The team that double teams in transition and plays perfect defense and fires on all cylinders and doesn't pull out those starters even when we're up by thirty, because damn it, we're going to score over a hundred points. It was beautiful. If we only play half as good as that against Duke, we've got the Elite 8 nailed up and framed.
Speaking of the war, I hate Michael Moore. I mean, I did already, and I had resigned myself to pretending to have seen "Bowling for Columbine" and nodding when talking to film school folk because I wasn't planning on seeing it anytime soon, but now I really hate the guy, and I won't see his stupid, stupid movie. Susan Sarandon giving the peace sign? Lovely. Brody's speech? Fine. Orderly protests on the streets that don't block traffic or whatever? Go First Amendment, choose First Amendment. But Moore? You were accepting an award on behalf of an entire film crew that worked very hard to make a film. Regardless of what you might think, you didn't make it by yourself. You had a responsiblity to not only accept the award for all of them, but to thank them for their efforts. Instead, you were...I don't even have words. I was appalled.
Okay, so I had this big long rant here, about all the war protestors, but then I decided I didn't want to get into arguments. Anyways. I just hope everyone can come home safe and all. [small voice] I want more shock! I want more awe! Blow some more stuff up on tv with the night vision cameras! [smaller voice] But don't hurt anyone, okay? Just blow stuff up. [/smaller voice] I just think I haven't been shocked and awed enough, and if I'm going to watch the news all day, I expect more. More shock and awe, to be exact. [/small voice]
I'm so sleepy. I had horrible insomnia last night, and just laid there, wide awake. I woke up almost two hours earlier than my alarm clock was set for. Then, my brain had the absolute audacity to dream about going to class. I hate when I dream about going to class. Then I wake up and I'm like, did I go already? Do I have to go through all that again? What's up with that?
Speaking of dreams, I'd like to introduce a new segment called: What Was Shannon's Brain Thinking? Here's the dream I had last week: Caroline and I were moving into the apartment next fall. Everyone was psyched about living together (there was a third dream roommate, not Jenny proper, which was odd, since there was Caroline proper). We decided to go to campus to get something to eat. We see a small, stone chapel that has a sign out, saying something about coming to the program and having a free dinner afterwards. Caroline and I are like, cool. Free food. Rock it you turkey. So we go into this chapel, and the interior is like that termite commercial where the whole inside of these people's house is made out of concrete. Concrete pews, walls, everything, and it's just cold and gray and dank. We're really the only non-church people there, and it's kind of weird. The service starts, and the chapel starts getting darker and darker. The people running the show want the two of us to stand up and tell them about ourselves and why we decided to come tonight. We're really uncomfortable, and we're trying to sneak out. It's not working, so we just run. The church people, who I have now come to the conclusion are really cult people, are in pursuit. Caroline and I decide that we'll lose them in the parking garage, so we start running up the stairs, thinking that we'll run dooooown all the ramps and they won't find us. Except at the top of the stairs is one of the cultists, now in a huge, white robe. His face is cloaked, and he raises his arms high above his head....
I wake up. Thus endeth the dream.
Speaking of KU, we were magnificently awesome against Arizona State in the second round. This is the team that I love, the team that runs the fast break, that out-rebounds and out-scores in the paint. The team that throws itself to the floor scrambling for a loose ball. The team that double teams in transition and plays perfect defense and fires on all cylinders and doesn't pull out those starters even when we're up by thirty, because damn it, we're going to score over a hundred points. It was beautiful. If we only play half as good as that against Duke, we've got the Elite 8 nailed up and framed.
Speaking of the war, I hate Michael Moore. I mean, I did already, and I had resigned myself to pretending to have seen "Bowling for Columbine" and nodding when talking to film school folk because I wasn't planning on seeing it anytime soon, but now I really hate the guy, and I won't see his stupid, stupid movie. Susan Sarandon giving the peace sign? Lovely. Brody's speech? Fine. Orderly protests on the streets that don't block traffic or whatever? Go First Amendment, choose First Amendment. But Moore? You were accepting an award on behalf of an entire film crew that worked very hard to make a film. Regardless of what you might think, you didn't make it by yourself. You had a responsiblity to not only accept the award for all of them, but to thank them for their efforts. Instead, you were...I don't even have words. I was appalled.
Okay, so I had this big long rant here, about all the war protestors, but then I decided I didn't want to get into arguments. Anyways. I just hope everyone can come home safe and all. [small voice] I want more shock! I want more awe! Blow some more stuff up on tv with the night vision cameras! [smaller voice] But don't hurt anyone, okay? Just blow stuff up. [/smaller voice] I just think I haven't been shocked and awed enough, and if I'm going to watch the news all day, I expect more. More shock and awe, to be exact. [/small voice]
I'm so sleepy. I had horrible insomnia last night, and just laid there, wide awake. I woke up almost two hours earlier than my alarm clock was set for. Then, my brain had the absolute audacity to dream about going to class. I hate when I dream about going to class. Then I wake up and I'm like, did I go already? Do I have to go through all that again? What's up with that?
Speaking of dreams, I'd like to introduce a new segment called: What Was Shannon's Brain Thinking? Here's the dream I had last week: Caroline and I were moving into the apartment next fall. Everyone was psyched about living together (there was a third dream roommate, not Jenny proper, which was odd, since there was Caroline proper). We decided to go to campus to get something to eat. We see a small, stone chapel that has a sign out, saying something about coming to the program and having a free dinner afterwards. Caroline and I are like, cool. Free food. Rock it you turkey. So we go into this chapel, and the interior is like that termite commercial where the whole inside of these people's house is made out of concrete. Concrete pews, walls, everything, and it's just cold and gray and dank. We're really the only non-church people there, and it's kind of weird. The service starts, and the chapel starts getting darker and darker. The people running the show want the two of us to stand up and tell them about ourselves and why we decided to come tonight. We're really uncomfortable, and we're trying to sneak out. It's not working, so we just run. The church people, who I have now come to the conclusion are really cult people, are in pursuit. Caroline and I decide that we'll lose them in the parking garage, so we start running up the stairs, thinking that we'll run dooooown all the ramps and they won't find us. Except at the top of the stairs is one of the cultists, now in a huge, white robe. His face is cloaked, and he raises his arms high above his head....
I wake up. Thus endeth the dream.
Monday, March 10, 2003
I watched the first hour or so of the SAG awards last night, but when it became clear what direction the show was going (HBO, Chicago), I went ahead and turned it off. First of all, I'm tired of the same shows winning everything. Sopranos, I'm looking at you. Sometimes I get upset when a show doesn't win something if it's a show I really like, but I realize I may not be entirely objective about the whole thing, for example, the sixth and seventh seasons of The X-Files. But the main reason I'm so into 24 and enjoy it so much is because it's so damn well put together, so it's frustrating to see it not get the critical acclaim I think it should be getting when the same few shows and actors keep winning year after year.
Plus, all the girls seemed to wearing dresses cut down to there, and that just isn't my own personal preference for dress stylings at formal gatherings, so the whole fun of looking at the clothes was lost to me as well.
Back to the real world, I finally got the tagboard to work with some help from Maya. She knew the number to be changed! And she had the brilliant suggestion, which I never thought of because sometimes I'm just too linear, of making the side column wider. That ended up making it much easier to fit the 'board in, but I had to tweak a few things, namely centering most everything in the column, to make it a bit more aesthetically pleasing. Also, I added a picture of the snowman, of my Chapstick fame, on the left. He's such a jaunty, happy guy.
Plus, all the girls seemed to wearing dresses cut down to there, and that just isn't my own personal preference for dress stylings at formal gatherings, so the whole fun of looking at the clothes was lost to me as well.
Back to the real world, I finally got the tagboard to work with some help from Maya. She knew the number to be changed! And she had the brilliant suggestion, which I never thought of because sometimes I'm just too linear, of making the side column wider. That ended up making it much easier to fit the 'board in, but I had to tweak a few things, namely centering most everything in the column, to make it a bit more aesthetically pleasing. Also, I added a picture of the snowman, of my Chapstick fame, on the left. He's such a jaunty, happy guy.