The only problem with my dorm is that the windows face eastward, so from around 7:15 to 7:25 every morning the room turns an incandescent orange. It reminds me of the episode of Seinfeld where Kramer's room is bathed in red neon light from the neighboring Kenny Roger's Chicken.
Thing are going well here. The worst thing that's occurred is yesterday's swim test. Everyone in the college is required to demonstrate that they can swim by doing two laps, non-stop, of an Olympic-sized pool. I haven't entered a pool in years, but I thought, hey, I ran this summer on a semi-regular basis, so this thing will be a joke. Well, I think most other people thought the same thing, and the results were horrendous-looking. The 8-lane indoor pool looked like a fish bowl into which a dozen guppies with one of their fins cut off had been tossed and left to drown. Never even being on a swim team when I was little, I had no idea what kind of muscle endurance it takes to swim hard and continuously. I mean, I was always afraid of Melissa Klein, but now there's a dimension of respect. Basically, I felt sick for a half-hour afterwards. My roommate was even worse off, and he looks in much better physical shape than I am. I'm not even sure if he passed; it sounded like he puked in the locker room, which apparently several kids were doing.
But I passed it, and this morning is the PE test where they'll test me in strength and flexibility and sit-ups and all other forms of athleticism that I'm inept in. I'll probably have to take a quarter or two of PE, and I'm determined to make it ballroom dancing.
I've already gotten to see a good deal of Chicago. On Sunday we were split into groups within our house for a city scavenger hunt that entailed taking goofy pictures at famous sites... which I am usually all over, but our group was made up of only very dry, no-nonsense Econ majors that spoiled the whole venture. I also took a tour of the Art Institute, which I've seen and I love everytime, everything from the actual art to the recognizable Ferris Bueller references. I saw it with a girl who may be an art history major, which was frustrating because I had to pretend to know what she was talking about all the time, and I suspect that she knew this and said all kinds of maddeningly pretentious things like "Oh, don't you just adore the Pre-Raphaelites?" and "I'd go see the Impressionists with you, but you know, I already have the calendar." Once again, Ms. Crockett's education leaves me a beached whale.
Yesterday, I took the el uptown with Julie, from NYC, and Rita, a neo-conservative Russian Jew from the suburbs who makes me laugh but makes me nervous when she vocally denounces affirmative action on the South Side bus. We ate lunch at a kick-ass Indian buffet, and visited all kinds of vintage shops and gaytown haunts that would make Jason squeal like... Jason Perlman in a gay neighborhood. I also bought an overly emo-looking Weezer poster and an "Ultimate Trip" 2001: A Space Odyssey poster so that I can have a reason to raise the question of Daniel's taste and judgement if he ever comes to visit.
Last night, we attended a showing of Off-Off Campus, which is UC's historic improv comedy group and spawning ground of the Second City founders and the Urinetown writers. I don't know how to judge live improv, because I've never even been to a "professional" show, but the humor was as spotty as can be expected from a college group. Despite all the dead-end skits, I still love the excitement and precariousness of improv, which almost kinda exempts the inconsistent humor. And thusly, I left the theater positive that if UT auditions don't pan out, I'm going to try my hand at improv.
So I have those things to look forward today at the UT information session. I also talked to a girl this week who spins indie rock for the campus radio station, and after giving me good marks on my musical taste, suggested I submit an application and a 2-hour playlist for a DJ spot.
But, classes! I don't register until tomorrow, but I've outlined my courses for the year. My fingers are crossed for General Chemistry, Molecular Biology I & II (for us lucky dogs with an AP of 5), Calc, Readings in World Literature, and America in Western Civilization. That's what a core schedule for an English major looks like at Chicago, folks. I also have to take a quarter in French, which I did NOT place out of. Fa-geez, I hate that language.
I think that brings us up to speed. Some of you may be interested that John Madden is shooting a film adaptation of the Tony Award-winning Proof on my campus this month, and even if I don't get to be an extra, I may very well see Anthony Hopkins, Gwyneth, Hope Davis, or Donnie Darko walking through my quads. Which is less than Daniel sees walking down the hall to the bathroom, I guess.
Thing are going well here. The worst thing that's occurred is yesterday's swim test. Everyone in the college is required to demonstrate that they can swim by doing two laps, non-stop, of an Olympic-sized pool. I haven't entered a pool in years, but I thought, hey, I ran this summer on a semi-regular basis, so this thing will be a joke. Well, I think most other people thought the same thing, and the results were horrendous-looking. The 8-lane indoor pool looked like a fish bowl into which a dozen guppies with one of their fins cut off had been tossed and left to drown. Never even being on a swim team when I was little, I had no idea what kind of muscle endurance it takes to swim hard and continuously. I mean, I was always afraid of Melissa Klein, but now there's a dimension of respect. Basically, I felt sick for a half-hour afterwards. My roommate was even worse off, and he looks in much better physical shape than I am. I'm not even sure if he passed; it sounded like he puked in the locker room, which apparently several kids were doing.
But I passed it, and this morning is the PE test where they'll test me in strength and flexibility and sit-ups and all other forms of athleticism that I'm inept in. I'll probably have to take a quarter or two of PE, and I'm determined to make it ballroom dancing.
I've already gotten to see a good deal of Chicago. On Sunday we were split into groups within our house for a city scavenger hunt that entailed taking goofy pictures at famous sites... which I am usually all over, but our group was made up of only very dry, no-nonsense Econ majors that spoiled the whole venture. I also took a tour of the Art Institute, which I've seen and I love everytime, everything from the actual art to the recognizable Ferris Bueller references. I saw it with a girl who may be an art history major, which was frustrating because I had to pretend to know what she was talking about all the time, and I suspect that she knew this and said all kinds of maddeningly pretentious things like "Oh, don't you just adore the Pre-Raphaelites?" and "I'd go see the Impressionists with you, but you know, I already have the calendar." Once again, Ms. Crockett's education leaves me a beached whale.
Yesterday, I took the el uptown with Julie, from NYC, and Rita, a neo-conservative Russian Jew from the suburbs who makes me laugh but makes me nervous when she vocally denounces affirmative action on the South Side bus. We ate lunch at a kick-ass Indian buffet, and visited all kinds of vintage shops and gaytown haunts that would make Jason squeal like... Jason Perlman in a gay neighborhood. I also bought an overly emo-looking Weezer poster and an "Ultimate Trip" 2001: A Space Odyssey poster so that I can have a reason to raise the question of Daniel's taste and judgement if he ever comes to visit.
Last night, we attended a showing of Off-Off Campus, which is UC's historic improv comedy group and spawning ground of the Second City founders and the Urinetown writers. I don't know how to judge live improv, because I've never even been to a "professional" show, but the humor was as spotty as can be expected from a college group. Despite all the dead-end skits, I still love the excitement and precariousness of improv, which almost kinda exempts the inconsistent humor. And thusly, I left the theater positive that if UT auditions don't pan out, I'm going to try my hand at improv.
So I have those things to look forward today at the UT information session. I also talked to a girl this week who spins indie rock for the campus radio station, and after giving me good marks on my musical taste, suggested I submit an application and a 2-hour playlist for a DJ spot.
But, classes! I don't register until tomorrow, but I've outlined my courses for the year. My fingers are crossed for General Chemistry, Molecular Biology I & II (for us lucky dogs with an AP of 5), Calc, Readings in World Literature, and America in Western Civilization. That's what a core schedule for an English major looks like at Chicago, folks. I also have to take a quarter in French, which I did NOT place out of. Fa-geez, I hate that language.
I think that brings us up to speed. Some of you may be interested that John Madden is shooting a film adaptation of the Tony Award-winning Proof on my campus this month, and even if I don't get to be an extra, I may very well see Anthony Hopkins, Gwyneth, Hope Davis, or Donnie Darko walking through my quads. Which is less than Daniel sees walking down the hall to the bathroom, I guess.
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