Grass Roots - "Let's Live For Today"
I woke up this morning, looked outside my window, and my heart leapt. It was raining. RAIN. Yes, since the temperature has climbed above 40 this weekend, all the water molecules in the Chicagoland area have been liberated from their 3-month +/- configuration, and are this morning throwing a beach party, mingling, and grooving-- most likely to vintage Van Morrison-- keeping things loose, keeping things light.
So the Child International people are getting more and more aggressive on campus by fixing themselves in points of high traffic so they can stop you and... and... well, I'm not even sure quite what they do, but I bet they either make you donate money, fill out a survey, or they bite you and you transform into a Child International goon just like them, windbreaker and all. I don't know exactly because I've been great at choosing alternate routes to class. Recently, however, they've mobilized beyond the library. Now they lurk outside of Cobb so they can catch you when you're walking out of class, and they even fix themselves at University and 58th, which they know is my only failsafe route to class. Because of this, I've sometimes had to cut through the mud and snow on the quads to avoid them, and even then someone is throwing acorns at me from above and shouting, "Save the Children?" Furthermore, these Child International people, they don't even have the decency to support a preposterous cause like Marxism or Lyndon LaRouche. How can you refuse, on principle, not to Save the Children? How can you NOT have one minute "for the children?"
In my non-children-avoiding time, I'm planning to make an appointment to get my haircut, just in time for the faculty roundtables (where I MIGHT get to sit at the table of my HTD professor, who, incidentally, still thinks my name is C.J. for some reason). This will be my first time getting my hair cut in Hyde Park. Last spring I took a one-hour trip north on the red line solely to get my hair cut at a Great Clips. I feel too white to go to the "authentic" (read: "ethnic") barber shops in the neighborhood, and I've been scared to go to our student center's barber shop ever since Jeremy returned from it one day last year with a buzz and an expression that looked like he'd just been shot at. But I'm going to Hair Care International, where, according to Alex, they're quick and they don't talk to you, so don't expect any Astonishing Blogs of the Barber Shop like Daniel's last year...
My roommate is starting to watch my DVD's without asking me... which, instead of perturbing me, pleases me. I frequently offer him foodstuffs, etc. which he consistently turns down. This way, at least we can share a material relationship of mutual disrespect for each others' property.
Now I go to faire le francais. Note that I have less than 4 weeks of this horrid language until I'm finished with it forever, in which case I can take Latin which I will NEVER have to use to practice conversations about movies and les vacances... I can just talk about slaves and how many mules I own, which is: NOT ENOUGH.
I woke up this morning, looked outside my window, and my heart leapt. It was raining. RAIN. Yes, since the temperature has climbed above 40 this weekend, all the water molecules in the Chicagoland area have been liberated from their 3-month +/- configuration, and are this morning throwing a beach party, mingling, and grooving-- most likely to vintage Van Morrison-- keeping things loose, keeping things light.
So the Child International people are getting more and more aggressive on campus by fixing themselves in points of high traffic so they can stop you and... and... well, I'm not even sure quite what they do, but I bet they either make you donate money, fill out a survey, or they bite you and you transform into a Child International goon just like them, windbreaker and all. I don't know exactly because I've been great at choosing alternate routes to class. Recently, however, they've mobilized beyond the library. Now they lurk outside of Cobb so they can catch you when you're walking out of class, and they even fix themselves at University and 58th, which they know is my only failsafe route to class. Because of this, I've sometimes had to cut through the mud and snow on the quads to avoid them, and even then someone is throwing acorns at me from above and shouting, "Save the Children?" Furthermore, these Child International people, they don't even have the decency to support a preposterous cause like Marxism or Lyndon LaRouche. How can you refuse, on principle, not to Save the Children? How can you NOT have one minute "for the children?"
In my non-children-avoiding time, I'm planning to make an appointment to get my haircut, just in time for the faculty roundtables (where I MIGHT get to sit at the table of my HTD professor, who, incidentally, still thinks my name is C.J. for some reason). This will be my first time getting my hair cut in Hyde Park. Last spring I took a one-hour trip north on the red line solely to get my hair cut at a Great Clips. I feel too white to go to the "authentic" (read: "ethnic") barber shops in the neighborhood, and I've been scared to go to our student center's barber shop ever since Jeremy returned from it one day last year with a buzz and an expression that looked like he'd just been shot at. But I'm going to Hair Care International, where, according to Alex, they're quick and they don't talk to you, so don't expect any Astonishing Blogs of the Barber Shop like Daniel's last year...
My roommate is starting to watch my DVD's without asking me... which, instead of perturbing me, pleases me. I frequently offer him foodstuffs, etc. which he consistently turns down. This way, at least we can share a material relationship of mutual disrespect for each others' property.
Now I go to faire le francais. Note that I have less than 4 weeks of this horrid language until I'm finished with it forever, in which case I can take Latin which I will NEVER have to use to practice conversations about movies and les vacances... I can just talk about slaves and how many mules I own, which is: NOT ENOUGH.
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