there is a box inside the box above my head
2006-10-19, 8:17 p.m.

Fall break is imminent. I need a break so badly from everything, from these classes, from the questionable food, from the icy death stares--all of it. It's going to suck when I have to come back.

I actually happen to like my classes a lot--I guess that's what happens when you actually like your major. But a week without classes is totally welcome. I'm excited to relax, go see one of those Cannes-film-festival-booed, anachronistic-indie-music-soundtrack'd period movies to see what the big ruckus is all about, read some good books (Diary by Chuck Palahniuk has finally been returned to the library by Anonymous Tardy MacOverdue), eat actual food, take showers without shoes, and, oh yeah...

DO WORK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ::GNASHES TEETH:: ::TURNS GREEN AND WAILS::

Yeah. I hate that. Work over breaks. Psh. What is the deal. It's kind of a lot too, like I have to interview an adolescent, and write up a freaking case study? What? And I have a midterm in the same class on the same day it's due? What?! I totally hate you right now, Crazy Developmental Psych Teacher From Trinidad. Who cares if your accent is cool.

But beyond the bone-crushing stack of books I will be carting home tomorrow, I'm really looking forward to break, if only because saying that things are "tense" here at school would ensure me a place in the running for Nobel Prize: Understatement of the Decade, provided that award actually existed.

I'm REALLY excited to see Marie Antoinette even though I actually have no preliminary opinions except that I've always wanted to like Sofia Coppola, but I've never actually seen one of her movies. The Prestige I really only want to see because Christian Bale plays a hottie magician (ooh, dangerous) and it's directed by the same guy who did Memento, and did I mention Christian Bale? Yes. So I'll definitely report back on this.

I'm also thinking I'll have a word with my parents about funding for a new MP3 player. Remember my defunct iPod? I brought it back to the Apple store, and they were all like, here, we fixed it, what happened was that a cable got knocked loose but it's all good now.

Me: Well, ahuh, heh, you see, that actually has happened before and uh, is there like, something I can do to make that, you know ... not happen anymore?

"Genius": (cheerily) Actually, what it is, well, it has to do with the design of the iPod. It heats up and cools down and the parts sometimes aren't where they belong.

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Roiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight. So basically, my iPod will never not break. Because its propensity to break is encoded into its DESIGN. Okay then. That's great. Good.

So he fixed it, or whatever. Guess what? A week later? Dead and gone. Tried to listen to Salt-n-Pepa, instead there were clicking noises and the whirring sound of dying electronics. The "unhappy iPod icon" was displayed on the screen. This time I noticed the unhappy iPod had ominous X's for eyes.

So yeah, fuck that.

Hmm. Let's jump around a bit. Jump, jump, jump.

I just finished Lullaby by Chuck Palahniuk. There is something about his shameless graphic descriptions and dark sense of humor that is so damn addicting. I should be traumatized. Instead I just want more. My library doesn't carry Fight Club or Choke, presumably because of all of the descriptors I used above. But be not dismayed, nothing will stop me on my rampage for MORE CHUCK PLEASE.

My current taste in leisure reading is generally much more whimsical--I just finished plowing through the works of Augusten Burroughs because lo, the bandwagon, I jump on. Seriously, though, that man writes one hell of a memoir--or, rather, four hells of a memoir: I have read all four: Running with Scissors, Dry, Magical Thinking, and Possible Side Effects (I include the titles because I want you guys to pick them up and read them), and I don't know, I just fell in love. That's right. I said it. I fell in love with a pathological, middle-aged, gay man. Or at least with his life story. And so while I wait until he publishes another, I'm working on getting through all the David Sedaris books I missed out on when I was too young to think he was funny. David Sedaris is different from Augusten Burroughs in that his humor is a bit drier and darker and a bit more mean-spirited, but he is also memoirist, as well as a pathological, middle-aged gay man, so I feel sort of like I'm staying within a genre. He's just so--for lack of a thesaurus--FUNNY. And that's all I really want in leisure reading. I read enough serious, profound stuff in my classes. Funny books go by faster.

Jump, jump, jump. It's so liberating to not use transition words and topic sentences. (I spent most of today writing a formal paper for Brit Lit)

I guess I should find a new layout, since the cool swirly graphics went away in this one and so now it's just neutral-toned rectangles set in bigger, brick-toned rectangles. Maybe over break.

Okay nowwww I am going to watch The Office and then Grey's Anatomy because I am a walking contradiction and apparently have both a great sense of humor and no sense of humor at the same time.

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