This sketchbook business is taking longer than expected. But for now, there will be sleep.

Tonight's great pleasure: arguing that people do not have free will, and pissing off a bunch of Christians. Next week: contending that the afterlife is a silly idea.

Someday I will get used to this cycle of gregariousness and silence. At least I keep telling myself that.

I am compelled to remembrance. I'm not sure what that entails, however.

It's official! I have the job. Woo!

Man, the Daily Princetonian sucks more than the Crimson... they said Storey went to yale! He should sue them for libel, because that is just insulting.

Guess who's not getting any work done!

I had one of my paper deadlines moved today, thus saving my ass greatly. Although I still have a paper due Thursday. But it's a core paper, which means 10 pages of BS.

This weekend was kind of fun, even though it mostly involved doing homework. But fun homework, in that I had to go out of Harvard Square to sketch things for my urban design class. Yesterday was the whole Copley Square area, and I was grateful for nice weather because I was doing a whole lot of walking. It was all quite pretty. Last night I was a totaly bum and just stayed home and watched SNL. Then today I went out to Chestnut Hill to draw shit on Route 9. Today was *not* a nice day, however, but before I hopped on the bus, I bought an umbrella at Staples, my favorite store for magically having everything I need that is not office supplies. The umbrella helped greatly in managing to keep me dry while walking around this one strip mall, between times when I would cower under overhangs to draw. Then I went to the Chestnut Hill and Atrium Malls... which was bleh. Both malls are a mix... well, they're not a mix, they're just a bunch of overpriced stores. Being the total cheapass that I am, I was not inspired to shop, but I did pee at the Atrium Mall, which I totally needed.

After that I hopped on the bus towards this apartment I was going to look at, got off the bus too late because I was reading instead of paying attention, and then thought I'd departed from the bus too early. So I made a big loop around the Longwood area, found a pay phone once I got to the right street, only to find the person wasn't home. Suck. So I went back to Harvard because the bus that went back was right there. I have grown to really love the buses, even though one of them was late and screwed me up earlier, but not irreparably. Buses go to so many places so much faster than the T, although they don't run as often.

So, at some point this week before the sketchbook is due, I will be *forced* to go to the Galleria Mall. My life is so hard!

Unfortunately, I will have to write a paper due Thursday that I haven't started researching for reals yet (although I have located all my sources already), and another paper for Monday which is an even lesser state. That paper, as it is for a seminar and due way too early in reading period, may not quite make the deadline. But whatever, I'm sure it won't matter.

I watched the X-Files tonight for the first time in years... so wack. But not terrible.

Last night I went out with all the old kids, first for Chinese food, then to Grendel's where much sangria was consumed. It was fun. I love being old. When we got home, Nate called to say there was craziness in the BR, and Jenn went to check it out... and I haven't seen her since. She was asleep when I woke up this morning until I left, and then she was gone by the time I got back. I had to go out and draw stuff today. It was a lovely day, though. It's supposed to pour tomorrow, but so far I don't see any clouds. Guess they come in tonight.

I had really strange dreams... I think I was dreaming a really strange movie. But only the part of a strange movie in which weird things are happening, but nothing is making any sense yet. Or something.

Lowell formal is next weekend... rar. Just rar.

I didn't think things could be that different after getting a job, but I find that my outlook has shifted. Like, things are settled, and instead of this void, there's the outline of the next couple years, and much more specifically the next few months. And that is nice indeed. It helps resolve the worry of the Real World after Commencement; now instead of something to be dreaded, it's something to look forward to. And I think having this particular job lends itself to a nice blend of old and new. This summer I will be hanging out with my friends a whole lot, but I will transition even more toward the fall. I may very well not even be living in Cambridge starting in September, and despite the smallness of Boston, it really does make a big difference. But all my concerns surrounding that fact don't really concern me all that much anymore. I suddenly feel more free, like something I started a while ago is kicking into a higher gear.

Woohoo! So, today I found out that the arthritis research center wants to give me the research assistant job. Yay! I went over to the Human Resources department and filled out the paperwork. So, they just have to check my references and figure out what to pay me, and then the offer will be official. I am so excited. Looking at the benefits made me even more happy. I won't have to worry about health insurance, there's tuition assistance that kicks in after 6 months, and there's even perks with a bunch of companies and discounted tickets for things and stuff. Hoo-ray! Because even though I'm working for a fairly small group, it's part of the whole Partners group, which is the big medical conglomerate from various hospitals... 10,000 in all. So it's like the best of little and huge working environment. Par-tay. And now I can start really looking for September housing. I am wicked thrilled. :-)

Strange things are happening on the internet.

Mmmm... Uno's. I haven't been there in a while.

Good good.

Um, dude, what the fuck? I'm clearly not the one with the problem.

I suppose I could ask what this is all about, but I really don't have time for more aggravation this week than is already carrying over from last week.

And I am extra cranky today because the phone woke me up at like 9:15. When I crawled out of bed unable to fall back asleep like 10 minutes later, I discovered that whoever it was didn't leave a message, meaning that it was probably some stupid telelmarketer or person needing computer help. Rar. I wish I had caller ID.

In review, it appears I must have fallen into one classic pitfall of the "cryptic" journal style--unintentionally hitting more then one bird with one stone. Oops. But I have a notion that I keep in mind whenever I go about reading journals like mine, which is, "If you think it's about you, it probably is." This notion does not mean, "If you think the person is writing about you, it is because the author had you in mind while writing," but it means, "If you think this entry is referring to your life, then you are probably right, and you should consider what the author is saying and see if it applies to your situation." If it doesn't help you, let it go. The fundamental notion behind this notion is, "My life is pretty generic." That is to say that lots of other people are in situations roughly parallel to yours, and when horoscope writers like me come along and comment, you shouldn't assume I'm not thinking about one of many other people that I know, and saying something that applies specifically to them. That thing they say about assuming, you know.

Man, I always have to work all day whenever it's Ben and Jerry's free ice cream day. Maybe there will still be some at 5, but I doubt it.

Mmmm, new spam today. I could venture guesses why, but why speculate. But procmail is my friend.

And Storey and Emily are engaged! So exciting!

So, I was supposed to be way ahead by this point in the week, but it turns out I am still working on reading for tomorrow. Yeesh. Yesterday flew by, and today is doing no better. Of course, spending hours at dinner yesterday and lunch today didn't exactly help.

Last night we watched Empire Records. The great moments in that movie were still great, but on the whole, it was better when I was in high school. There are too many implausibilities in that movie.

Last night as I was falling asleep, I got this image from a book I read a long time ago stuck in my head. I remember that it was a totally weird book, but I can't remember much about it at all. What I think I remember is this: 1) it seemed to be something that was translated from another language, and about people in Europe; 2) it started with some young girl taking a train ride to some other place; 3) the girl was sickly, and possibly an orphan; 4) she ended up living in a house with some other girl about her age, and most of the book is about their interaction; 5) she lived in some weird room that sticks in my mind as being much like a closet full of very yellow light, and there's some bit in which they are cutting a window into the room (I think it was actually a closet, hence the need to put in a window), which confounded me; 6) the book used the word "boisterous" to describe some boys who must have lived in the house, and I didn't know what it meant and had to look it up; 7) the boys were boisterous I think because they did things like cut things into their bedroom doors and other crazy things; 8) there's some scene in which the girls are lying under a tree on a hill together; 9) there may be some thing involving a play house of sorts, which is why I remembered the book at all in the first place, because I was thinking about the play house I got when I was four, because I was thinking about the swingset Amber got when she was four, and how I told her the adults were all outside building a giant can opener when she came into my room and asked what they were doing in the backyard (it was at night) (and she totally bought the story). Why this book still sticks in my mind after all this time is weird; I remember that it was a really strange book, but it's odd I have no sense of the plot.

Went out with the Academy crew tonight. We rotated 8 people through a 4 person table, which was amusing. Tomorrow, checking out an apartment for the fall, and then meeting with the crew for lunch.

I never want to downplay anyone's perception of their mental state, but there are some people who like to totally melodramatize their "depression", "fix it", and then wonder why everyone else can't "fix it." Real depression is when it screws up your life; functional impairment is the single defining factor for all mental illness. I myself have gone through some serious doldrums, but even those can't fit into the definition of clinical depression or clinical anything. Anyone who has ever been truly depressed will tell you there are days when they can't even leave their homes or even their beds because it's just so awful; it's not just that they complain a lot or feel sad. THEY FEEL WAY FUCKING WORSE THAN THAT. So don't tell someone who's real depressed to jump on a fucking treadmill and then get annoyed when they don't want to do that, or even eat, or sleep, or not sleep, or do anything else. Damn, fuck you. You make me fucking sick.

What I was referencing above has been removed and apologized for, which I appreciate. I think the point should be emphasized that mental illness is widely misunderstood, and any lack of empathy for people suffering from mental illness demonstrates a tragic ignorance.

So, I went and looked at an apartment today. I was underwhelmed, but it was decent. The one roommate I have been in contact with is new to English speaking, which is okay, but a bit difficult. There's also no living room type area, which is sad. I think I'll keep looking. I figure I have lots of time to find a place for September, but since I've never really done a real apartment search before, that it's good to start now and just try to get an idea of what is out there.

I should just stop reading... I won't deny that she got treated crappily, but for the love of god, if you're really so happy now, get over it. And realize that maybe people change a lot in a short amount of time.

Ugh. I'm reading C.S. Lewis's Miracles right now... and I'm barely into the book and already I want to kill it. It's going to be difficult to read this whole thing when I think the basic principles of the whole argument are so blatantly wrong.... bleh. I had enjoyed most of Mere Christianity, until the last few chapters in which I had a similar feeling of "What crack are you smoking, Clive?" Rar. 300 pages of this crap.

My other weekend reading is a giant book on advertising in the 1920s and 30s, which is pretty lively, but huge. But last night I wrote out on a single notebook sheet all the things I have to complete before the end of my undergraduate academic career... craziness.

Oh, my head. It hurts.

Today is the start of something new. Because it's time.

Man, it's so nice outside. I wish I could have a barbecue, but I guess it is 2am, even if I did have a grill.

Sometimes I just don't understand.

How much do I hate? So much. But unfortunately it's not all outwardly directed.

The above refers to one Mr. T.G.E., who says I'm confrontational and prone to "outbursts" because I had the gall to tell him to fuck off every week this football season when he was trying to strongarm us into putting the fucking Osmond Family Show on the field. I'm not going to deny that I'm a wicked bitch, but I am going to contend that if he would have just let us do our jobs in this supposedly "student-run" organization, he never would have had to deal with my confrontational side at all. I personally put up with a lot of his crap, but if he thought I was going to let him walk all over the staff and the Band, he can shove it and continue to shove it until it is shoved.

So, there's this dude in the showcase who must be using a computer program to work on his English pronunciation. He keeps saying a bunch of words, and every so often he seems to get stuck with a word and have to repeat it a jillion times. He seems to have been stuck on this one word for a few minutes now, and I have no idea what word it's supposed to be. Or maybe I'm completely wrong, and he's training a voice recognition software in another language, and some of the words just kind of sounded like English. But he's been saying this one word now for a while.

From my reading of C.S. Lewis's Mere Christianity, a response in an ongoing debate, condensed to the salient points:

Being in love is a good thing, but it is not the best thing. There are many things below it, but there are also things above it. You cannot make it the basis of a whole life. It is a noble feeling, but it is still a feeling. Now no feeling can be relied on to last in its full intensity, or even to last at all. Knowledge can last, principles can last, habits can last; but feelings come and go. And in fact, whatever people say, the state called 'being in love' usually does not last.... But, of course, ceasing to be 'in love' need not mean ceasing to love. Love in this second sense--love as distinct from 'being in love'--is not merely a feeling. It is a deep unity, maintained by the will and deliberately strengthened by habit.... They can have this love for each other even at those moments when they do not like each other; as you love yourself even when you do not like yourself. They can retain this love even when they would easily, if they allowed themselves, be 'in love' with someone else....

...if you go through with it, the dying away of the first thrill will be compensated for by a quieter and more lasting kind of interest. What is more (and I can hardly find words to tell you how important I think this), it is just the people who are ready to submit to the loss of the thrill and settle down to the sober interest, who are then most likely to meet new thrills in some quite different direction....

This is, I think, one little part of what Christ meant by saying that a thing will not really live unless it first dies. It is simply no good trying to keep any thrill: that is the very worst thing you can do. Let the thrill go--let it die away--go on through that period of death into the quieter interest and happiness that follow--and you will find you are living in a world of new thrills all the time. But if you decide to make thrills your regular diet and try to prolong them artificially, they will all get weaker and weaker, and fewer and fewer, and you will be a bored, disillusioned old man for the rest of your life.

Loneliness and need. Compounded by many things all at once.

Two hours of work, and I didn't do any homework! Woo! Today has been more about writing to lowell-open about affirmative action and admissions policies than anything else. Lowell-open can be so much procrastination sometimes.

Rar. I know what I want to say. I shouldn't say it here, though.

Again tonight at Charlie's, the damn song again.

I hate you. I hate us both.

I have help desk from 12-3 today... the deadest shift ever.

The scb11 printer does this thing where it reports that it has a paper jam when really it's just that one of the paper trays is empty. The strange thing is that this is a new printer, and the old one used to do the exact same thing. I've rarely seen the same behavior anywhere else. It's like that one spot in the lab is haunted by bad printer reporting.

April, ah, April. How can the coming of nice weather always coincide with a growing sense of dissatisfaction. And frustration, of which there has been much lately.

After all this time, I still can't believe I'm the one who cares more, who works harder.

Mmmmm, productive procrastination. Looking for jobs when I should be reading.

Earlier I had such the craving for spaghettios (that is so not how it's spelled), and now I want pizza. Bad Italian food, please come to my door!

Mulholland Drive is wrecking my mind. I sort of rewatched it again today before taking the movies back. I fast forwarded through to the parts I had questions about. Then Jenn returned from her NY job interviews and we went to Border and discussed the movie a while. One thing that was already weird is that after Battle of the Bands tonight, they were going to show the movie in the house. Extra super weird was that after Jenn and I talked about the movie, and when Kris and Nate had shown up, we were talking about other things... and the damn song Rebekah del Rio sang in the movie started playing, but the original English version. Ack, creepy! No! Hay! Banda!

Don't know what to do, donno what ta do. :-( Lesson of history: can't do anything. But cry and worry and feel awful and wonder. Dammit, dammit, dammit.

The internet makes taxes so easy! And telefile!

Aw, Phildelphia Story is so great. Except the ending was a surprise. But still, aw.

Sometimes people scare me.

So, my final interview was today, and there's no way in hell I'm interested in that job. It's definitely better for someone who wants to go to medical school eventually and who will want to learn more about blood viscosity over the next couple years. But worse than that was the doctor, who was a nice man, but who loved to hear himself speak, especially about his vast accumulated knowledge of world history. He was more interested in positing obscure questions of dates about the classes I've taken than in anything else about me. He also noted that he doesn't think of the job as salaried employment, by which he meant that he expects people to work a jillion hours a week for jack shit because there's a job to be done and work fits to that. Oh boy, no thanks.

Oh, and I've had a headache since I got on the T this morning. Three Advil and food later, it's getting worse. Maybe it's the coffee... maybe I need to finish the coffee. Maybe I need to chop my head off.

Battle of the Bands was in Lowell courtyard tonight. I hadn't planned on going to all of it, but the bands were all far better than I had anticipated. Lots of grooviness. And M. Poe drinking a beer, and saying it was allowed as long as you were of age. New rules for the courtyard! Now I have no desire to be productive, and nobody with which to have fun, which means I'm just restless. BLEH.

Dood, Mulholland Dr. is such a fucked up movie.

So, yesterday I went back to Brigham and Women's to interview with one of the doctors who is one of the principle investigators. There were actually two doctors, but the male one seemed to be the one I would work for if I got the job. The female one was the epitome of "if you keep making that face, it's going to stick that way." She just had a permanently surly face, but she was nice enough otherwise, so I presumed the permanence, and not just that she hated me. The other doctor was very nice, and he said that it seemed like I would probably be a good fit in a lot of ways. But, they are still going to go through all the interview process, and then they meet in two weeks to discuss it all, after which time they'll let me know. Two weeks! Yeargh.

Today I went back to Lexington Montessori to observe a class. I finally figured out the buses in my post M. Dr. stupor last night, realizing that part of my problem is that I was heading toward a place between two sections of the T map, and that the map had the street I was going to totally mislabeled. What a terrible map. Anyhoo, I figured it out finally. I actually got to the stop I intended this time and walked over to the school. Lexington is pretty, but uncivilized, and has sporadic sidewalks. This was a little scary walking down the road on this path-like thing. Bleh. It wasn't terribly far, but it wasn't amazingly close ever, and in the winter it would be heinous. So, definitely a car would be required for the job. The class was fun: the kids were cute and engaged in their work and well-behaved but playful. They teach each other lots of things, mostly accurately, and they all learn in very different ways. After I talked to the head of school, and she told me that they are mid-process, still doing lots of interviews and things, and sometime soon (they have break next week, so after) they would be meeting to decide who to bring back for the last major round of interviewing, which would be like the first week in May. Which is even further away than the other thing.

So, at this point, with two of three interviews done this week, I definitely have the Brigham job ahead of the Lexington job. I think both jobs would be fun in different ways, but the location thing is a big issue. There's no way I could do the Lexington thing without a car, whereas there are a million lines of public transportation to Longwood from all sorts of not-that-expensive places to live. And Longwood is closer to lots of young people, some of whom may someday be doctors. Or who already *are* doctors. :-) And research will be better for my longer-term goals, I think. So, we'll see what the MGH job is like tomorrow, and then I'll go from there in deciding what to do.

Damn, no one loves me.

So, the showcase was, of course, totally dead until my closing shift. Now there are some dudes trying to print some giant Pagemaker file, and one of them is cute, so I can hardly bear to make them leave. There is another silent fellow plugging away, and I guess I'll have to check on his keycard status at some point. I am suddenly exhausted, even though I took a big old nap this afternoon to compensate for last night.

So, the irony of this is that I refused to sign up for closing Walkin shifts because they always last until 11, but here I am in the showcase past 10:30. But I'm not really doing anything, whereas Walkins are infinitely frustrating.

Yes, and yes.

Oh my God, High Table was the funnest last night. After a bit of pregaming, Jenn and I went over to the Masters where they fed us wine and then shuttled us into the dining hall for dinner. The dining hall seems so different when one is at high table. The food was great, there was more wine, and tasty chocolate coffee dessert goodness. Then back to the Masters for port and chocolates, and music which was fabu, and then coffee, and then stumbling home to sleep.

This morning I had a job interview with an arthritis research center at Brigham and Women's. The people there are really nice, and they do lots of cool stuff, and they seem interested in my computer skills and versatility, so we shall see what happens. They also have this other position they are still trying to define, but it sounds like I'm the only interviewee they have mentioned it to, so that is promising.

Damp breezy spring nights make me restless, make me feel like wandering. There's so little wandering opportunity these days.

Hmmm, lots of sleepiness, general blahness, general dissatisfaction, for the last, oh, two to three days... er, duh. Especially given that I was sick most of the month, duh.

Last weekend in Spain was their daylight savings time, which meant that the sun stayed out until freakin' late instead of just real late. Here I'm sure it will make some difference, but mostly it just means that I have lost an hour in which to do homework today.

Now I'm just getting pissed.

I managed to completely destroy productivity today, but ah well. Some things are more important. And I really did intend to do reading through those three episodes of Star Trek, really I did, I'm just terrible at reading through distraction. And then I hadn't talked to my parents much since after Spain, so that took a couple of hours once I got home. Yeargh. Put coffee in me now so I can get a couple of hours reading done before I crash.

Ah, sleep was so good. And I got up real early (after 12 hours of sleep even), and I have done my laundry, and I will probably go buy some interview clothes, and then I have a computer appointment. Woo.

I went to half a Jazz Band concert tonight. I'm definitely glad I finally figured out in my senior year that I should only go to half of Jazz Band concerts. There were only supposed to be 5 songs after intermission, but I bet all that goes way over an hour and a half. I just wanted to see Jenn and the Sunday Band anyway.

But now it is quarter to ten, and I am bored. Perhaps sleepy. Or perhaps just bored and figuring sleep will solve that. April doldrums. It's still frickin cold outside. And a feeling of dissatisfaction is growing. Maybe it's frustration. Maybe it's sense of impossible resolution.

Shower has made me feel better... now I'm just sleepy instead of sleepy and full of angst. I am less in panic about my laundry. I am no longer frustrated by UAing of death. I am still angsty about words words words, but over a month of that should have really cured things instead of just making them worse. I think it's just post-break, impending-graduation ACK ACK ACK. Except not ack but blehhhhhh. Bleh with the tiny voice of ack.

Yes, it is Friday night. Yes, it is 8pm. Yes, I have been invited to a party and there is poker in the BR. But, I am extremely sleepy all of a sudden. And sleep just sounds like the most delightful place ever.

Maybe my week finally caught up to me.

Man, I suck. Why did I think it would be a good idea to sign up for desk hours at 9 am both today and tomorrow. And I'm also working from 7-10 tonight! When am I going to do laundry? SHeeeet.

Rrrrrrr.... I hate it when I'm just reading along and I come across something that is largely innocuous, but all of a sudden, I feel the entire back my head prickle... the psychosomatics of territorialism.

I hate walkins. I don't think I'm ever going to take another walkin slot again... they last forever and BLEH.

Yay Harvard Shuttle for taking my sorry sad ass home.

Dear Brain: I know you enjoy dreaming, but dude, you're killing me.

My inbox has only four messages! If you ignore enough of them long enough, they cease to be important and you can trash em.

Plans that make me sad.

So, I visited the house where I'll be living this summer, definitely with Courtenay and possibly with Scott too. The whole place is great, but the downstairs where we'll be is super great! It's like this ridiculous den, but there are still full windows, which rawks. It's totally fab-ghetto, and it has this decent size mini-kitchen downstairs in addition to the huge one upstairs. AND it's feet away from Cambridge Common, where I'm sure there will be much evening gathering.

Yay for going to bed ridiculously early and then getting up way early. I even went to breakfast!

So, the rest of the trip there was Toledo on Friday, Prado and Parque de Buen Retiro and bullfight ring on Saturday, and Palacio Real and a marketplace and shopping on Sunday. Woo hoo! Toledo was definitely the most wonderful place I've ever seen. Jenn said it when she said that it would be great to have a wedding there. It's so picturesque. We didn't get to go into the catedral, unfortunately, but we did see El Greco's Burial of Count Orgaz, which I hasn't known was there... it's truly fabulous. The Alcazar was pretty cool too, especially seeing how they rebuilt it after it was pretty much wrecked in 1936.

The Prado was neat, and full of paintings. I was disappointed by Las Meninas... I thought it would be larger for some reason. Don't get me wrong, it's a big painting, but I had been told it's like you're looking through a doorway into the room depicted, and that it is not. Velazquez still had some good stuff. Goya is best when he only uses black and brown and red (for blood), like his gory painting of Saturn eating his children. Yummy. But the rest I can do without. Bosco is insane in the membrane... I can't believe he painted so long ago.

I'd also like to note that there were so many adorable waiters in Spain. And grumpy old ones, but I will prefer to recall the really cute ones.

I have returned. I will write about my trip after class if my headache has gone. Otherwise bleh. Too much awakeness.

And... rar. Super rar in a bucket. Like I said, too much awakeness.

Run away!