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06 IV 2003 - 18:45 - trivialis58

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I could get used to it, this feeling of having nothing to do, really, for the rest of the day. I practiced early and I have no homework; I suppose I could do some reading on the aftermath of Stonewall for my history report, but then I'd be showing some foresight. The very idea is ridiculous.

I returned a couple of emails today, reducing the list in my inbox to fewer than thirty for the first time in... a long time. Currently, I'm dubbing a tape of naturalization questions read in English and Cantonese -- I don't speak Cantonese, so I'm relying on the English, and I'm also cooking some rice, so I hear the tape only in little snatches. For some reason, phrases such as 'Today is a sunny day' are being interspersed with 'America is a great nation' and 'I study English very hard.' Interesting...


Trip breakdown:

The visit to Madison was a great deal less dull than I had feared. I didn't sit in on any of my sister's classes, but I did spend a good deal of time in her office. Tuesday was spent walking along State St. and enjoying the beautiful weather; over the next two days, the temperatures plunged steadily closer to 32 F. Wednesday I spent with a fascinating man, the former head of the lingustics department -- we went to the geology museum and the Elvehjem, an art museum, together, while my sister had class. It took an hour for us to be served at lunch because we scared the waiter off the first time he came around, but that was a good day, spent in good conversation. Then I went to watch my sister play hockey, although I really used the time to read through the sources I'd brought with me for my history paper and determine that most of them were useless. Note to self: when the puck hits the sideboard, it's loud enough to startle me. Every time.

Thursday was given to bookstore visits (A Room Of One's Own and Canterbury) and a trip to Mt. Horeb, to visit the Mustard Museum. It's really not that exciting, unless you like looking at lots of glass containers full of various mustards, but I did get to taste quite a few mustards in their gift shop. Having done so, I can safely report that after the third mustard or so, they all begin to taste more or less the same. That night, my sister mentioned that the retired head (see Wednesday) had given her something for me, and produced a copy of his book. I'm sure there isn't anyone who wouldn't have shared my joy in discovering that he was now the possessor of a "New Comparative Grammar of Greek and Latin" that delves into many of the greatest questions of historical Indo-European linguistics. Now if I can just decipher the notation used for Proto-Indo-European, I will be quite happy indeed...

after which we went to get frozen custard at Michael's so I'd have energy to write postcards and pack. I got out on Friday morning, just in time to avoid hail and flurries, and you know the rest.


As for my at-home state, I think that I'll tackle the next Alchera, which is already up, and continue to fret about whether I will be accepted to the Latin/Greek Institute. I sent my application on the Monday I left, so if I'm lucky, I'll hear back tomorrow -- if not, then I'll hear back whenever I do.

Nervous, therefore, but also excited, because the Opera and American Conservatory Theater seasons are (mostly) out. The former is doing Shostkovich's Lady Macbeth of Mtensk; the latter is doing Waiting for Godot, which I have been curious to see since reading it for that class... at the beginning of this school year.

Nervous, excited, and also confused: after warning him against having disturbing dreams last night, I proceeded to have a disturbing dream myself, and what was worse was that he was involved. We were sleeping together -- in the proximity sense, not in the 'let's read between the lines now' sense -- and then suddenly, he rolls over and falls right through me. Which is odd, because I'm aware of this foreign presence where I should be, but then where have I gone? And then suddenly he's at the other side of the bed, as if nothing happened, and then he leans over and sort of swats me with his right arm, and I just... open, from left hip to right shoulder. Just an open and ugly wound in a streak down my body, and I have no idea where any of this is coming from. It's fine, though; I just sit there with a huge wound but don't seem to die, and I turn my head and ask him, 'Why'd you do that, then?' At which point I felt the urge in the dream to kiss him, and that's when I woke up, wanting someone beside me to tell it to and who could tell me, perhaps, what on earth it all meant.

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