madame butterfly

If you want to hear me squeal like a little girl, just call me up and ask me if I want to go to see an opera in 15 minutes. Robin bought an extra ticket because she just knew that someone wanted to go, she just wasn't sure who it was. That would be me. It was lovely. Madame Butterfly, a tragic masterpiece, they called it. I was interested for the first hour, intrigued the second hour, and mesmerised for the rest. They sing, I squeak. Boy, do I have a lot to learn.

My picture uploading is being a bit strange at the moment. Judging from the jumble of html I'm seeing right now, there are three pictures.
Picture with four girls: Ashley, yours truly, my roommate Kate, Stacey
Guess the rest.

life continuing

And so life rolls on, leaving my flattened self dazed and wondering "what the hey?!"

It's not that bad. After two history study groups today, a thankful slight respite in Latin homework, and the completion (all but for footnotes and bibliography) of a history paper, things are slowly becoming a bit more focused. I now simply have to go over my notes for my four classes, know my Assyrian kings and the dates that go with them, write a Theology worksheet/paper and etc. and I'm good to go.

Coffee has gone from a treat to something that beckons the arrival of a wrinkled nose as the eyelids demand an artificial prop. The taste-buds, quite astounded, ask "again?" and the brain, tired of resembling Kansas after a tornado, throws up its hands and with the grace of a Stoic declares "anything goes." The debit card squawks in futile protest as it slides its way across the counter and is swiped. There is coffee in my hands. I am content.

Finals are upon us. Break is coming.

quiet, lazy sort of day

After sleeping in until 10 (lack of sleep calls for desperate measures), I've pretty much decided that the whole of Moscow is half asleep today. It's a bit overcast, not warm but not chilly either, the sort of day when you're not quite sure whether to wear a sweater or short sleeves. I went with the sweater with the sleeves pushed up.

I'm currently at Bucer's, hoping the change of scene will get me into a studying sort of mood. I've never seen Bucer's packed like today but at the same time so insanely quiet. *laugh* Like a library only with coffee.

sweet declamation

Our last assignment for Declamation this term was to write in the style of Dr. Seuss. I took his commencent speech for exiting college students (Oh! The Places You'll Go!) and turned it into a convocation speech for incoming NSA students.


Congratulations!
You’re at NSA,
You have books in your hands
That you’ll study all day

You have pulled on your best,
You have done up your hair,
You’re ready to tackle
That big world out there.
Your wallets are empty, all spent on big books,
But the pain is well worth it, by your friends’ freaked out looks.

The teachers are tough and the classes are great
You’ll make some sweet friends and will stay up too late.
With your backpacks all loaded and your laptops prepared,
You will write three fast papers on a weird coffee dare.

The Latin, the French and the smattering of Greek,
You’ll be quite content in the world of the Geek.
We juggle thick books as a matter of play
And have a hard time knowing night from the day.

The freshmen, they smile
Unaware all the while,
Of the workload that’s coming
For now they’re still humming.

Oh!
The books that you’ll read!

You’ll be talking with masters!
You’ll be reading great writers!
You’ll be up with your flashlight
When you pull those all nighters.

For not all is easy,
Nor simple as pie,
No sleep makes you queasy
You’ll just want to die.

The teachers, they smirk as they pile on the work,
And you’ll groan with your classmates and go quite bezerk.
But they say that you’ll make it, those who’ve passed through,
They give the thumbs up and say “So will you.”

So welcome to Andrews, the St. of this school,
And believe me, my friend, we’re really quite cool.

i love tuesday

Aieeee! I'm drowning in homework. Yet I'm sitting here blogging away instead of getting on with it. Shame upon my head.

Bray moved me from medium low voice to medium high today; apparently Mr. Regan was correct when he put me at first soprano for choir. As of today I have a completely sweet Broadway piece from The Scarlet Pimpernel to learn, as well as two in Italian. Did I mention I'm completely falling in love with this whole voice thing? I did? Oh. Well I am.

Music makes me happy.

And so does Kristina's blog. My sister the vet tech. Once Lindsey and I moved out and she didn't have an handy audience for her gruesome work stories, she started her own blog. So now she can illustrate her gruesome stories with equally gruesome pictures. And have you laughing the whole time. She has talent. She should write a book.

a day in the life

Time: 8:30 am
Scene: Our room. Kate is getting ready to leave to the freshman brunch. I am essentially unconcisous.

Kate: Brilliant observation. You are really tired.

Me: ...... zzzmm

the sophomore plunge

This is me.

This is me happily walking to the end of the diving board, cracking my knuckles, gazing innocently at the sparkling water below and, with great anticipation, leaping.

This is me sailing down through the air, thinking "what is so hard about this? This isn't bad - in fact, it's rather easy."

This is me hitting the water, realizing too late that I jumped off the high-dive. Now I'm sputtering, splashing, in pain and I have water up my nose.

This is me learning how to swim.

can life get sweeter?

I'm sure it can, but right now I'm pretty happy. I can't truthfully say that I have a handle on being a sophomore yet but I'm learning how to study.

Today is Tuesday. Which means:

1:00 am - Wrap up the studying, pack backpack for the morning, hopefully turn out the lights at 1:30.

6:00 am - Groggily roll out of bed order to have to enough time to tame my hair, eat something decent and make the 30-35 min walk to school.

7:30 - 9:30 am - Theology. Which is sweet. I never realized just how much fun Dr. Leithart is. He seems quiet and he is quiet, but nobody ever said that just because you're quiet means that you can't have a sense of humor. We're learning about Hermeneutics right now, which at this point in our studies is how to read the Bible while taking lexical and literary context into account. Really fascinating. We got our first assignment back this morning and I was very pleased to see I did well.

10:30 - 12:00 - Latin. Mr. Griffith reminds me of a friendly lion. He makes me enjoy Latin which is a first. Last year Latin was torture. I got through it fine but it was agony, the last thing I would do and I would snarl at Wheelocks while I did it. This year it is hard. Really, really hard. But it's fun. We're learning via immersion rather than brute grammar and memorization which is how I learned Spanish. My brain understands it better this way. Although I'm still pretty rotten at the language, I don't dislike it anymore.

1:45 - 2:45 - Voice. The highlight of my week. I'm taking lessons over at University of Idaho from Bray Wilkins, who is by far is the best of the three teachers I've had to this point. I'm so incredibly falling in love with music even more than I thought I already was; it makes me want to spin around in circles. See the stars in my eyes? That's because I just learned I can sing. And sound good while doing it.

The rest of the day: Homework. A lot of it. Wish me luck.

another week done, another to go

Another week is over. And another one starts tomorrow bright and early. Latin, History, Theology and History are calling my name. A mug with a trace of now cold coffee is sitting on my dresser, a testimony of last night's scholarly endeavors. Starting at around 7pm, I managed to read Herodotus, a chapter of "Writing Ancient History" and a chapter of Latin. Can't say I understood the Latin at 1:00 am. *cough*

Rachel and I spent Saturday morning and part of the afternoon doing a research/scavenger hunt in the UI library; we used microfilm for the first time, which was an adventure. You should check it out. It's actually quite amazing.

I've added something to the list of things to do before I die:
Learn how to fence.

Sunday is sweet.

you never know

What does it mean when you are feeling slightly blue and happy at the same time? A touch bummed but ready to go out and, if not conquer the world, at least make it known that you would if you had the manpower to back you up? I'd like to sit and have a pity party but I can't, I'm in too good of a mood.

the basket weaver - a fable

The diplomas were distributed, the tassels moved with great solemnity from one side of the caps to the other, and soon, as is inevitable in these cases, came the question. That question that requires great and heavy hours of pondering in order to give a satisfactory reply,

“So what is your major going to be?”

The young lads of the tiny kingdom of which our tale tells chose from many important majors, such as Dragon Slaying with a minor in Princess Rescuing, and Castle Architecture with an emphasis in high unreachable towers. The maidens chose wisely as well, veering off into fields including portraiture, weaving straw into gold, and fashion design.

Margo didn’t have to put much thought into her choice. When asked, she would give a quiet smile and reply simply “Basket weaving.” When the people of her village attempted to persuade her otherwise, she would nod and say “perhaps you are right. We shall see.” For Margo was wise. She knew that her skills were valuable and that basket weaving was a noble trade.

Three years passed. Margo and her classmates studied hard. Their heads were crammed full of knowledge and the tiny kingdom prospered. Margo’s baskets became unparalleled works of art, selling faster than she could weave them. But all was not well. The kingdom to the south gained a new king who had long wished to crush Margo’s homeland under his rule.

Before anyone knew what was happening, the city was under siege. Daily life ground to a halt. Classes were canceled. Would-be Dragonslayers were left without essential classes; architects knew they would be unable to design secure towers without further training. But Margo wove on.

She made a habit of sitting just outside the city gates while she wove and soon attracted the attention of one of the enemy guards. He admired her work and soon offered to buy several of her baskets. Margo agreed and soon she was selling them to him on a regular basis, knowing full well that he was re-selling them for far more than he paid her.

Her classmates were horrified. That she was a basket weaver was bad enough. But that Margo was selling her work to the enemy was far worse. But she would not stop; she wove on and sold on, a smile playing around her lips as she bent over her work.

A month, then two rolled by. The city’s resistance was beginning to crack. Margo picked up the odd habit of pacing along the tops of the city walls, peering off into the distance, looking for who knew what.

Then they came: the neighbors to the West who had heard the cry for help and had come as soon as they were able to muster their forces. After a fierce and terrible battle, the enemy was vanquished. During the subsequent feast of celebration the King asked how the army had come to know of their plight as they had been unable to send out any messages. The commanding general gave him a surprised look and held up one of Margo’s baskets. Woven in the design, in a way known to the Western kingdom, was a cry for aid.

Moral: When someone says they are majoring in basket weaving, don’t laugh.

my latin teacher is cooler than your latin teacher

Mr. Griffith is the greatest language teacher I've had. Even though he's a very hard grader (I'm feeling it pretty badly), he makes class so much fun. I feel like Latin is a lot more coherent than last year.

Last class was brutal and the homework load was insane. Mr. Griffith admitted it was inhumane and unethical but assigned it anyway. "You think that was bad? It just gets worse." And groans rippled through the tired masses slumped over Lengua Latinae. But he had mercy. I found this note in my inbox this evening (after, of course, I had already done a ton of the homework assigned previously....):

"Discipuli omnes,

Discipuli non laeti sunt, nam exercitia eorum nimis magna et longa sunt. Discipuli plorant; Magister imperat: "Facite exercitia!" Discipuli rursus plorant. Magister oculos ad caelum vertit et cum magna voce spirat et dicit. "Fu, o improbi discipuli!" Sed magister non vult discipulos esse mortuos; ergo, discipulis responsa dat et multa exercitia removet.

Ex Capitulo X: Facite Exercitia II, IV, V, VI, VIII, X tantum.

Ex Capitulo XI: Facite Exercitia III, VII, XI tantum.

Valete."