To begin: the Nog has been replenished.
The University of Chicago campus has not been declared legally dead yet, but we've been phoning the relatives and suggesting they make travel arrangements, so to speak. I tried to lift people out of their dorms to go to Starbucks at 3 in the afternoon Saturday, and it was like tying a piece of floss around a dead walrus and trying to lift it out of a well. Is it always this comatose around here before finals? Impossible to tell, but it feels like I have a large amount of time to do a disproportionately small amount of studying/paper writing. Or maybe I'm speaking too soon.
After two hours of attempts, Julia, Cara, Jeremy, and Alex finally escaped the tractor beam of Hyde Park yesterday evening and made it downtown for a thoroughly non-Bartlett dinner at Berghoff's. It's on Adams and State, a big robust German-American restaurant. I ordered a multi-schnitzel plate that held my very first knockwurst (we always remember that first time...) with a stout mug of root beer to accompany. I like to think the restaurant somewhat resembled a Scandinavian mead-hall like in Beowulf, because I always wanted to feast in a mead-hall. This, of course, would be impossible with my neurosis about eating in public, which happened to resurface last night after a long dormancy, and so I was scandalized again for only eating a quarter of my meal.
Afterwards, we walked up and down State Street admiring the Christmas-ness of it, and walking past the Barenaked Ladies concert at the Chicago Theater where we could faintly hear the music from the back alley. God, I want to go to a concert! I don't care who I see, just so long as it makes me feel I am not wasting my proximity to one of the greatest towns for music, ever.
Riding the bus to and fro last night, I realized how much like my dad I get on these expeditions to the city. Suddenly, I get the urge to take the lead in decision-making and public transportation riding, and get all excitable about getting on the right bus at the right stop. Usually, I end up just annoying other people with my obsession for control. Oh genetics.
My civ paper is going slow like Stephen Hawking in Hungry Hungry Hippos. You know that feeling... writing every sentence one by one... like salmon...swimming.... upstream.... Not to mention the fact that my current thesis on Protestantism states the exact opposite of my last paper's thesis; it seems that I just obscure facts to fit my whims about history. This is why I will never write an academic paper.
Kristen's sick. This is my shout-out to her illness, I suppose. Man, sometimes you just really miss someone, and that's all you can do about it.
"I remember doing nothing on the night Sinatra died, and the night Jeff Buckley died, and the night Kurt Cobain died, and the night John Lennon died, I remember I stayed up to watch the news with everyone."
Badly Drawn Boy is lord of all creation.
The University of Chicago campus has not been declared legally dead yet, but we've been phoning the relatives and suggesting they make travel arrangements, so to speak. I tried to lift people out of their dorms to go to Starbucks at 3 in the afternoon Saturday, and it was like tying a piece of floss around a dead walrus and trying to lift it out of a well. Is it always this comatose around here before finals? Impossible to tell, but it feels like I have a large amount of time to do a disproportionately small amount of studying/paper writing. Or maybe I'm speaking too soon.
After two hours of attempts, Julia, Cara, Jeremy, and Alex finally escaped the tractor beam of Hyde Park yesterday evening and made it downtown for a thoroughly non-Bartlett dinner at Berghoff's. It's on Adams and State, a big robust German-American restaurant. I ordered a multi-schnitzel plate that held my very first knockwurst (we always remember that first time...) with a stout mug of root beer to accompany. I like to think the restaurant somewhat resembled a Scandinavian mead-hall like in Beowulf, because I always wanted to feast in a mead-hall. This, of course, would be impossible with my neurosis about eating in public, which happened to resurface last night after a long dormancy, and so I was scandalized again for only eating a quarter of my meal.
Afterwards, we walked up and down State Street admiring the Christmas-ness of it, and walking past the Barenaked Ladies concert at the Chicago Theater where we could faintly hear the music from the back alley. God, I want to go to a concert! I don't care who I see, just so long as it makes me feel I am not wasting my proximity to one of the greatest towns for music, ever.
Riding the bus to and fro last night, I realized how much like my dad I get on these expeditions to the city. Suddenly, I get the urge to take the lead in decision-making and public transportation riding, and get all excitable about getting on the right bus at the right stop. Usually, I end up just annoying other people with my obsession for control. Oh genetics.
My civ paper is going slow like Stephen Hawking in Hungry Hungry Hippos. You know that feeling... writing every sentence one by one... like salmon...swimming.... upstream.... Not to mention the fact that my current thesis on Protestantism states the exact opposite of my last paper's thesis; it seems that I just obscure facts to fit my whims about history. This is why I will never write an academic paper.
Kristen's sick. This is my shout-out to her illness, I suppose. Man, sometimes you just really miss someone, and that's all you can do about it.
"I remember doing nothing on the night Sinatra died, and the night Jeff Buckley died, and the night Kurt Cobain died, and the night John Lennon died, I remember I stayed up to watch the news with everyone."
Badly Drawn Boy is lord of all creation.
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