I should probably start first with the good news, because my day got ugly after about 10 PM.
Wednesday to Thursday sort of overlapped because I had to write a paper on Pushkin for my Russian Culture class, returned an overnight book to the library, submitted my paper, watched as my senile Russian Culture professor kept talking some 12 (!) minutes after class was supposed to end, ran to the Geology building across campus to my European History class, learned about the Italian Revolutions, and took the quiz...then walked back to Ballantine Hall and took my make-up quiz for Russian Culture that I missed Tuesday when I was sick.
Somewhere in there, between being at the library and submitting my paper, I had a meeting with the director of the Individualized Major Program. The man I spoke with also had a keen interest in rock music; I impressed him when I mentioned that I perused my dad's stack of 'Creem' magazine from back in the late 70's. We also both knew who Sick Man Of Europe was.
Another thing that impressed him was that my pursuits were academic. Apparently a lot of people take the courses in tandem with pursuing a career in the music business. (Emphasis on the business part.) I assured him not in a million years would I want to be a suit. I would have to do a final creative project, during which the word "publishable" was mentioned.
Anyway, this is an amazing option in the even I don't get into the graduate program. For a start, my generation is being encouraged to pursue two majors in college. Second, this will open up more doors for me - in the long run I want to write academically about rock music rather than film - and qualify me for a more broad range of graduate programs.
Aside from a very...weird...reaction from Mom about it that I won't disclose here, this would be a very suitable alternative.
My Valentine and I (I'm not talking) had dinner before I left town and had a cigarette on top of a parking garage downtown to enjoy the view. Then my car wouldn't start - the battery is dying on it. A mechanic came by to jump-start it right as I was scraping ice off the windshield. I slipped on some black ice and stopped my fall with the back side of my hand on some sharp, craggy ice. So now I've got this deep, nasty cut on my pinky that stings like the paper-cut from Hell. There was also a surprising amount of blood.
The drive home wasn't bad. I parked my car at the mechanic's and was picked up by my dad at 11:55, and we were home literally at midnight.
How was your Valentine's Day?
Alex
6 comments:
Your V.D was better than mine.
I spent it in my full of single FarmHouse guys drinking beer and the homemade wine I've had brewing in my closet since Jan. 7th. But it wasn't gay or anything since my wine can put someone down after 2 glasses.
Your V.D was better than mine.
I spent it in my apartment full of single FarmHouse guys drinking beer and the homemade wine I've had brewing in my closet since Jan. 7th. But it wasn't gay or anything since my wine can put someone down after 2 glasses.
When we used to hang around Sauers, Forrest, we called that stuff shine. Sounds fancy to call it wine, but shine correctly implies the kick.
My VD was actually a Valentine's Day Massacre party wherein we ate rare meat, mixed veggies, and brownies with strawberries on top.
And since I stupidly gave up beer for Lent, I drank Woodchuck.
My VD ended up being Gonorrhea....wait, what are we talking about?
Run Forrest Run!
Oh for God's sake, "anonymous." If you must make a comment, at LEAST try to be clever. And I'm talking, let's try to make our comments a little above the "I'm a 6th grader from Jennings County" ilk.
Geez.
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