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I guess I'm doing all right.
Wow. Days go by fast when I'm living slow.
Yeah, I moved home a week ago. From a third-floor room in a dorm with a broken elevator. In the rain. The rest of it's probably familiar to anyone who was reading this a year ago. Wednesday helped with bingo at the nursing home and got flirted at by cute old guys in wheelchairs; Friday helped Mom mow the lawn (which is an act of *evil*); Saturday spent the morning at yard sales and the evening watching the Ridgeway Elementary school play (42nd Street, which really didn't work with ten-year-olds, even if they had some good tappers); Sunday went to church and then watched the parade in Glen Burnie; Monday morning went to quilting and was hated on by a sewing machine and Monday evening went to the VBS set-up meeting, which surprisingly is *not* utterly stupid this year. Filling up the corners dealing with the horrid heat and humidity by taking afternoon naps, sewing with Mom in front of the TV in the evenings, eating strawberries and rum cake, listening to the happy morning hum of the cicadas, reading a dictionary of feminist mythology Mom gave me. In other words, the sort of horribly happy and relaxing domestic life that's extolled on the country stations I've been listening to since I got home. It would be wonderful were it not for the looming fact that I'll eventually have to check my grades and deal with stuff for next semester. And my e-mail and fandom stuff that's in nearly as bad a shape as my grades probably are. And Mom gently hinting that I should be looking for a job, NOW. The FBI is looking for special agents, it said on the front page of the employment section. hmm.
Most of the week, however, has been spent unpacking, and organizing and getting rid of stuff in hopes of finding room to unpack. I shoehorned the last of my junk into my room this morning. (66 feet of full bookshelves in my bedroom, w00t). Still have a huge pile of papers to go through and some rock samples to deal with, though. I haven't been online since I left university and am not experiencing any withdrawal symptoms, hah. I did dig around in my computer a bit. By switching the cords on the cd drives I got the dvd drive working again, but *not* the cd-rw drive, which makes even less sense than before. The dvd drive is sort-of working, anyway; it'll mount data cds and play but not mount music and dvds, claiming it's not scuzzy enough, which means I can't rip anything. I will probably poke around there a bit more and maybe try to get my modem working again and if I can get the cd-r working *finally* rip some lps. It feels very strange to not have any unpacking to do anymore.
Yeah, I moved home a week ago. From a third-floor room in a dorm with a broken elevator. In the rain. The rest of it's probably familiar to anyone who was reading this a year ago. Wednesday helped with bingo at the nursing home and got flirted at by cute old guys in wheelchairs; Friday helped Mom mow the lawn (which is an act of *evil*); Saturday spent the morning at yard sales and the evening watching the Ridgeway Elementary school play (42nd Street, which really didn't work with ten-year-olds, even if they had some good tappers); Sunday went to church and then watched the parade in Glen Burnie; Monday morning went to quilting and was hated on by a sewing machine and Monday evening went to the VBS set-up meeting, which surprisingly is *not* utterly stupid this year. Filling up the corners dealing with the horrid heat and humidity by taking afternoon naps, sewing with Mom in front of the TV in the evenings, eating strawberries and rum cake, listening to the happy morning hum of the cicadas, reading a dictionary of feminist mythology Mom gave me. In other words, the sort of horribly happy and relaxing domestic life that's extolled on the country stations I've been listening to since I got home. It would be wonderful were it not for the looming fact that I'll eventually have to check my grades and deal with stuff for next semester. And my e-mail and fandom stuff that's in nearly as bad a shape as my grades probably are. And Mom gently hinting that I should be looking for a job, NOW. The FBI is looking for special agents, it said on the front page of the employment section. hmm.
Most of the week, however, has been spent unpacking, and organizing and getting rid of stuff in hopes of finding room to unpack. I shoehorned the last of my junk into my room this morning. (66 feet of full bookshelves in my bedroom, w00t). Still have a huge pile of papers to go through and some rock samples to deal with, though. I haven't been online since I left university and am not experiencing any withdrawal symptoms, hah. I did dig around in my computer a bit. By switching the cords on the cd drives I got the dvd drive working again, but *not* the cd-rw drive, which makes even less sense than before. The dvd drive is sort-of working, anyway; it'll mount data cds and play but not mount music and dvds, claiming it's not scuzzy enough, which means I can't rip anything. I will probably poke around there a bit more and maybe try to get my modem working again and if I can get the cd-r working *finally* rip some lps. It feels very strange to not have any unpacking to do anymore.
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Am envious of your full bookshelves, though, assuming they're, in fact, full of books. I've never really bought many books, instead exploiting the public library, but there's just something about owning your favorite books that's so much more satisfying.
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The 66 feet is all books. There's another ~ 3 shelves thats art supplies and dolls and other junk. I think maybe half-a-dozen (counting textbooks) of them were actually bought by me at bookstores, however. I exploit flea markets, used book sellers, and relatives. *And* libraries, there's a whole shelf of books due back at McKeldin in July. . .
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Eep
Sure it sounds sweet; the danger, the intrigue, the women... They promise you the world, but eventually you get assigned to some boring locale. Before you know it, you're living in a rat-hole in Long Beach, studying music, and keeping an eye on "liberals with dangerous ideas" even though you are a liberal with "dangerous" ideas.
Years of your life down the drain and all you get is government check and a lousy t-shirt.
It didn't even fit.
Re: Eep
Because hey, the easiest way to fight The Man is from the inside.
Re: Eep