Please Don't Emanate in the Penumbras.

It's funny 'cuz it was a bad ruling. *ahem* Just a little Constitutional humor there, folks.

Had another existential crisis this morning, although this time I managed to avoid wailing and gnashing of teeth. At one point I did bury my head in a pillow. This is, let's face it, a step down on the Crazy Meter. I think it's a sign of personal growth.

Most of this morning's breakage down was caused by the fact that the semester's almost over, and while I have narrowed my life's goals down to two main trajectories (well, three if you could Marry Prime Minister, Preferably One of An English Speaking Country French Sucks, but that one's not really a career goal per se), I am no closer to picking one, and they are such that you have to pick just one. Unless I want to go around like that guy in the TNT movie The Librarian collecting graduate degrees. Which I don't. That seems like an awful lot of work.

So my mom was putting up with helping me talk through some things, when we got to the crux of my issue. I want to go to law school. But I don't want to be a lawyer.

Well, except a judge. I think that would be pretty cool. Mom shook her head and suggested, correctly, that I'd only be happy being an appellate court judge, because criminals and other plebeians? Eww.

So I'm all, well, yeah, but you don't get to be appointed to those positions until you're like, EIGHTY!!! (I think this is when I collapsed onto the pillow.) And then she's all, no, that's not always true, look at [Chief Justice] Roberts!

Um. Okay. Let's, shall we?

I suppose that if you lead a charmed life in which it appears God is grooming you to become, I don't know, a freaking PROPHET or something, it's no big deal with ascend to the highest judicial office in the Western world before your voice changes. with like, ZERO experience, I might add. I've been working at Borders longer than he's been on the bench, but whatever. As usual, nobody asked me.

Those of us who didn't rise fully formed from a pile of fairy dust might have to toil in anonymity for awhile longer. At least through puberty maybe.

So I got no closer to a resolution, but I did manage to make myself feel like a failure.

On second thought, this doesn't look like so much fun. Unless the private conference on Friday is BYOB, I'd take the week off, boys.

Maybe I will have to marry a Prime Minister.

This has nothing to do with anything (SOMETIMES they do, shut up), but yesterday morning I hauled myself up four flights of stairs at 7:30 to listen to an effete, underpaid librarian talk about fake illuminated manuscripts. Which you could tell he was trying VERY hard to make himself feel good about. At one point, he goes, "There are only three (more than one) facsimiles (fakes) in good condition (many more in varying other conditions) in the Upper Midwest (Wisconsin)."

So there are a tons of good fakes in the state. But we've got one of them!

Ugh. This is why art history isn't one of my two major trajectories.

Bite me.

I've got, like, nothing for you tonight. Honestly. I don't recall doing anything today. It's weird.

Let's see. I know I put pictures on Flickr. I ate dinner. I wrote my photos project. I cleaned the bathroom. I went to Target (Again. I shouldn't be allowed in upper-class discount stores. It is simply not fiscally responsible.). I bought pillows. I put the pillows on my bed. Other than that? Notsomuch.

But I guess that is kind of a lot.

One major thing I haven't done? Studied for my personality test in 14 hours. I suck.

Got two A's this morning, though. And I'm feeling good about that. Less so about the aforementioned personality test.

Boy, you all must be sick and tired of the classes rundown by now, aren't you? You're probably looking forward to winter break more than I am.

Because then Teh Major Amusement that makes it to the blog is something like plucking my eyebrows and seeing how many days before I start ignoring makeup and wearing sweatshirts. I think it took three days last year.

Just letting you know.

I know you're shocked, but I did read a book today, Supreme Conflict. I didn't love it as much as The Nine, mostly because it wasn't organized as well and at the beginning was kind of confusing because they were jumping from justice to justice and expecting the reader to keep up. But then it kind of calmed down and focused mostly on O'Connor's leaving and Roberts and Alito.

This is good for me, because they're the only two I really remember. I was seven when Stevens (the last new one) was confirmed in 1994. Not so much into the Constitution then. By 2005, I was old enough to remember a CSI being preempted Roberts' nomination was announced. You don't forget that shit. Okay. It was a rerun. But I was still mad.

Interesting. There was a kind of cute part about Alito's daughter in it- she was home alone when Andy Card called to offer her dad the nomination. She told him he was at work, and then IM'd her brother saying that some guy from the White House had called. He asked her who it was, but she didn't remember who it was. So he ran through a list of people it could have been until she recognized a name.

And it kind of struck me that, if my dad was nominated to the Supreme Court, The Empress would forget the name of the guy who called. And then I'd have to yell at her. I'll bet the Alito boy yelled something like "Dumbass!" at poor little Laura.

But that would be my family.


Oooh, I have links tonight!!! I know, you're thrilled. But they're clogging my favorites, so you're getting them.

Let the self-loathing begin now. Um. Yeah. My two A's don't look so intelligent now.

Look, I am no happier about the Ted/Robin hookup last night than the next guy, but it did not deserve a jeer. The poll at the end of the article is supportive, though. Yay, Mother fans (I almost wrote MotherBoy. The Arrested Development groupie in me.)

Continuing with our SCOTUS theme tonight, the Supreme Court agrees to hear 2nd Amendment case. Oh, great. The one instance where I don't think packing the Court with conservatives is a good idea.

So now I really have to marry well. I guess even working my ass off to let my ovaries rot while I sleep with my doctorate at night isn't enough anymore.

I'm so disturbed by this. Not the fact that she's a crazy, but the fact that the phrases "ex-lover" and "Bill Nye" were used in the same sentence, in conjunction with one another. I need to go take a shower in rubbing alcohol or something.

Confidential to Mickey:

For someone who hasn't served Christmas dinner on anything without a Chinette label or mouse ears for as long as I can remember, MY GOD do you have a METRIC ASSLOAD of FREAKING SILVER.

*ahem*

And it's all polished now. And the people driving by my house at dusk today would have gotten an eyeful of a pissed off girl sitting on the porch inhaling TarnX fumes and occasionally shouting obscenities. Just slightly.

But no, seriously. Goblets? Random bud vase? Obscure single knife? Really?

But it's all polished and there are indeed pictures but the act of them exhausted me so that I cannot cross the room to connect my camera to my computer. But oh, there will be pictures.



Without any transition whatsoever, I had a dream about the Supreme Court last night. (Derrick: Wait. Was there sex? Me: No. 'cuz, um, eww.) Witness the new level of nerddom.

(Probably because I had been thinking about this yesterday. Mostly being sad. And then grateful that we never had to deal with that. Because dear God we didn't need that.)

Except Sandra Day O'Connor was at a rest home, and my mom was her friend, and somebody who looked like Velma from the Scooby Doo movies was a justice instead of Ruth Bader Ginsberg, which is a blessing because let's face it, she's just bringing the party down.

It was weird. No weirder than when I dreamt about the poisoned guy from Ukraine. That was weird too.

I have a tentative schedule for next semester that I'm clinging to desperately even though I know that, as a second-semester sophomore, there's like a 2% chance I'll be able to get it. But it's a beautiful schedule. Get this- 18 credits, all good classes, home at 12:15 and 1:45 every day and OFF ON FRIDAYS. As in, I might be able to sleep past six more than once a semester and not get myself into dangerous situations involving cars.

So keep your fingers crossed.

Personal Day, I has it.

Well, not officially. And I did miss four lectures. Don't care. Was feeling ill. And tired. And had lots of stuff to do. None of which I actually did, but I did watch Brothers and Sisters from last night (I collapsed at eight thirty. Shut up. That's totally normal.) and read half of Wicked.


Not quite as responsible as studying the fifty images that are all Greek to me (HA! They are all Greek!!!) for art history or trying to decipher the First Intermediate Period, which is actually massively confusing and not easy to understand like the Second Intermediate, which consists basically of "Hyksos. Chariots. Take over. Bad." That? I can do.


Nomarchs? Not so much.




Had a lovely day, though. Slept till quarter to nine, which feels like noon when you've been up at six for two months straight, and then did actually study for awhile at the doctor. But mostly with the Wicked reading.

It was about 60 degrees, too, absolutely beautiful. I took it as a sign of God yelling at me to get my ass in gear and take the damn pictures for the damn ocean project already and if you had done it in September when it was assigned you wouldn't be on the freaking beach in NOVEMBER MORON trying to press down the damn shutter with frozen hands.

Well, except God used significantly fewer obscenities.

So Colleen and I did go to the beach, and took my pictures, which are lovely and already uploaded to Flickr and shown on the sidebar, feel free to admire. Unless you're in Geo Sci 150, in which case HANDS OFF THEY'RE COPYRIGHTED ASSHOLE!!! *ahem*

Then we went to Starbucks. I had been outside for like forty whole minutes and was beginning to feel slightly natural. Had to nip that in the bud. And a gingerbread latte did that quite well.

Oooh- I have something else scientific to talk about!!! Well, kind of. About as scientific as I get. But still.

Anyway, I was watching something on TV the other day, and there was a female scientist talking about something, and it struck me how awesome it would be to be like that.

Because (and this is going to sound mean, but read the rest, I promise it's really not), most female scientists (and I've seen a lot of really smart women in the science fields- I was home schooled) look alike in that they obviously don't spend a whole lot of time on appearance. No makeup, glasses, sensible clothes and shoes, and usually long hair pulled back in a ponytail.

As someone who gets up and spends the first hour of her day in an insanely self-involved attempt to acquire some self-worth through full makeup, defrizzed hair, moisturized skin, perfumed pulse points, curled eyelashes, dewy lips, shirts that accentuate my *ahem* assets but don't look whorish, and heels that are permanently screwing up my back, MY GOD it would be nice to be able to be secure without that.

So bravo, women who are smart enough to know that none of that matters, especially when you're freaking brilliant, saving the world, and probably much, MUCH happier than I am at the end of the struggle with my hair cream. I'm sending you any daughters I may have, because you will probably do a far better job raising them than I ever could.

Want to finish today with a quick book wrap-up, even though probably no one cares. But I do, and it's my blog. *stamps foot*

I finished Mr. Jefferson's Women on Friday, and it kind of sucked. I am no fan of Mr. Jefferson, as everyone who has ever talked to me will know, but this book portrayed him as an insipid, undeveloped, adolescent misogynist. And I really don't think that is correct. Almost all men were not quite as accepting of women at that time, but there's no way he could have been around women like Abigail Adams and Dolly Madison and think that women were merely objects to be (according to the author) awkwardly adored stalker-like from afar, and then ditched after what was apparently an 18th century one night stand. Ugh.

Then moved on to Rhett Butler's People, the authorized retelling of Gone with the Wind. Which was amazing. Don't get me wrong. Loved it. Loved Rhett, and I don't think they screwed Scarlett up like some of the reviews said, because she wasn't in it enough. Loved everything about it.

But it wasn't Gone with the Wind. The stories were parallel, and occasionally major events from Gone with the Wind would show up in this narrative, and I found myself going "NO! I want more! Bring back Scarlett!!!", and obviously they couldn't because it wasn't Gone with the Wind.

But that's okay. Because nothing will ever be like that, and I guess I wouldn't want it to be.

But the ending? It was good. Really good. :)

I am NOT a failure at life!!!

So you know that person who got a really good grade in psychology that I was talking about earlier who might have been me? It was! And I'm comfortably in the A/A- average range, which is totally enough for me.

*end of the crazy*

*maybe not*

*we'll see*
Not a whole lot going on. I've been studying. Over fifty images for art history on Wednesday, and another Egypt test on Thursday.

Seriously.

How does he even have time to write these this quickly?

Damn.

Reading, too. I finished One L this morning, and now I'm kind of scared.

Law school has been one of my options since I was in high school. My mom's an attorney, and while she absolutely hated the practice of law, she loved law school. I've always wanted to do it, pretty much to just say I'm a lawyer.

Because I don't, you know, actually want to be one. That's, like, wicked boring.

Unless you're on the Supreme Court or something. But I don't think they let 25-year-old girls with JDs from Marquette Law who have never taken the bar (Rock on, state of Wisconsin and your seriously lax standards!!!) become justices.

Just a thought.

But I've read a couple of books by people who have gone to law school, and I've been hearing my mom's stories my whole life, and DAMN does it sound nerve-wracking.

And if you've been reading since, ooh, the BEGINNING OF THE ENTRY, you'll know I'm a neurotic MESS about EVERYTHING and perhaps this isn't the best idea.

Except I could do it. Not to sound like I'm tooting my own horn or anything, because I am simply a product of my environment and I have NOTHING to do with my moderate academic success (Because if they had left it up to me? I'd probably still be drooling like everybody thought circa 1987), but I'm pretty smart. And I'm pretty good at putting my pretty smart brain to work and getting something that I really want. *

So this could be my extreme sport. No way in hell I'm going to like run or jump or climb a wall or anything, but dammit, I can THINK.

Also, I took Latin and logic. That's gotta count for something. Because I know what habeas corpus and writ of mandamus really MEAN.

And the gender, form, and declension. Yes. I'm a dork.

*Math and science excluded. I'm not a miracle worker.

On a not so intellectual note, who wants to see Jack Bauer put the smackdown on the WGA??? Show of hands?

This made me squeal in the middle of 1960s yesterday. Even though it's not about him. And she may have insinuated that his fan base is old. I don't care. Look at the picture!!!

Reasons To Not Get Dressed In the Dark

When you get downstairs, you will realize that you have a random curl sticking out the back of your head, there are deodorant marks down your side, and you've somehow managed to get hair product between your boobs.

Also? When you get to class and see that TA Who is Way Hotter Than Regular TA With The Aggressive Hair and Wedding Ring is subbing? You'll be really glad you wiped the deodorant off. And that you took the time to wear lipstick.

It was fun. Except he talked way too fast and I was getting dizzy, but still. Also he looks like Christ. And I need to go throw up.

We kicked Team Uhh's ass on the action potential. Totally.

Was slightly inappropriate when Nadia, Claire, and I broke out into fits of uncontrollable giggles when the girl sitting next to us goes, "Oh, I've been drinking," as the quizzes were being handed out.

Hahaha.

Drinking.

She looked drunk too.

Imladris stayed home today because...well...it's Friday??? I don't know. I don't ask anymore.

Anyway, she used her time by applying to colleges, something that I avoided like the freaking plague until the last possible minute, but I digress. One of the schools she selected was University of Dayton, a beautiful private college in (duh) Dayton.

It's also my grandfather's alma mater, and that got us talking about his academic record.

My grandfather is brilliant. He was a chemical engineer, worked on Project Manhattan doing something with uranium (I'm too stupid to know what it is), and still, at 91 years old, knows far more about chemistry than I ever will. He also had the highest scores to date when he graduated from UD in 1939.

And I'm just wondering when in the genetic process did the neurons stop firing?

Because my mom is pretty smart, graduated magna cum laude from law school, and well, Mickey can come up with inventive accounting plans to get her back to Vegas, which takes some brains.

My generation?

Not so much with the setting the academic world on fire. If you read the beginning of the post, I CAN'T DRESS MYSELF.

Evidenced by the fact that I'm updating and ignoring the psychology notes sitting on my desk.

So thanks, Grandpa. Would it have killed you to toss a little of the freakishly bright genes our way? You know, with the crazy?

Perhaps I won't have to live in a box after all.

For I have received the incredibly, mind-numbingly amazing grade of A on my incredibly, mind-numbingly difficult ancient Egyptian test.

*and the villagers rejoice*

Now have an A- average. I can work with that.

Meanwhile? The physiological psych test on Monday that I can hardly study for because looking at the stuff makes me want to vomit and then crawl into bed? Not so much.

Germ is still sick. And I am still not. Although my throat was hurting last night, but I think that might just be The Crazy. Still keeping him locked in the bathroom floating in a tub filled with Lysol.

Yes. We're really hoping his skin will come back. He was such a cute boy.

New guy on Criminal Minds last night- I'm not sure how I feel about this. I don't actively dislike him, like I do with many newcomers (Who are you? Why are you here? I don't like you.), but I'm not totally warming to him either. Maybe I was just distracted by Reed's hair, which is now longer (and prettier) than mine.

Also? I still heart Ned from Pushing Daisies. Even if I think he's gay in real life. I'm so down with a marriage of convenience.

Also also? I'd like you all to know that martyrdom did not, in fact, die out in the thirteenth century when they stopped burning Christians (that, btw, is a totally made up date that my inner history major will not let slide), it is still alive and well today when I am NOT having to work and COULD watch Ugly Betty (Betty and Henry go on a date! I real date! To Wicked!) but am CHOOSING to go to Mass instead and not risk eternal damnation.

Because that's just the kind of Catholic I am.

(This is not as great a sacrifice as last year, so I guess I shouldn't complain. Why are there always fun things to do on Holy Days of Obligation???)

Post #500

That's right, blog kitties, you've listened to 500 of my pointless diatribes on important subjects such as my hair and Johnny Depp while going through two and a half years, through several concerts (Or not.), a couple of Pirates movies, the freaking plague, the lovely bubble period (Hi! You've reached the mental ward, where may I direct your call?), and too many changes in major to link to (Honestly. I don't even attach dates to major crises of faith anymore.). Oh, and that one time I went all Constitutional on The View's ass.

Yes. It has been an interesting ride.

All three of you who read it.

I feel as thought I should have something more important to say than my normal "*no creativity woe is me is dead* updates, but I'm afraid not. Ooh, two things.

1.) Alterra coffee is far, far better than Maxwell House. I make coffee every morning in my crappy fifteen-dollar coffee maker and it usually tastes like it. I assumed it was my woefully wanting coffee-making skills. But it's not. Because when you use the coffee from Alterra (stolen from Imladris whose friend gets some as perk- I worked for a coffee place for year and I never got anything is all I'm saying) it tastes amazing. And it makes my morning so much better. It is all I will drink now.

2.) I wrote a letter today. A real, pen-and-paper-no-computer-in-sight letter. Okay, there was a computer on the desk. But I wasn't using it, I swear! And it was really cool. I felt all Jane Austen-y, except not because I was wearing jeans and hurrying to go pick up my brother in a car and there's not a Mr. Darcy (hell, I'd take Bingley right about now) in sight, but still.

So if my friend's devastating foray into the military accomplishes nothing else, I've gotten to write some letters without Microsoft Word.

Oooh- I know what I wanted to talk about!!! The Nine!!! Please follow that link and buy it because it is a-m-a-z-i-n-g!!!

Admittedly, I'm kind of a constitutional law whore. I write "vs" as "v" in everyday life. I have a tendency to write the year in parentheses after a sentence (as in "Griswold v. Connecticut (1965) invented the legal precedent of privacy that would be used eight years later in Roe when the justices decided that the right to abortion fell under a penumbra of privacy.") I can quote major cases- Marbury v. Madison (Judicial review! Yay!) Dred Scott (Slavery! Boo!!!), Griswold v. Connecticut (Birth control. Umm...).

I am a dork.

But still, this is an amazingly good book. So good. Everyone should read. Now.

There aren't enough staff picks in the world.

Other people's lives today because I'm sick of my own...

Says the world, "Who the hell is Rumor Willis?" Thank you folks, I'll be here all week.

I don't know how I feel about this. Last week I wasn't so crazy about him. I'll have to see how I feel tonight.

*The Boy May Want To Skip This Item. Mmmkay, Peaches???*

Okay, I'm trying to come up with a good Madonna reference for this story, but I can't think of one. Oh, Brit. Why you gotta be like that? I'd like to say I'm morally outraged, and I guess I am in principle, but can we put this in perspective?

This is the girl who was parading around when she was a teenager in a Catholic school uniform (and not the frumpy ones we had to wear in the real world, either) wailing about "hit me baby one more time," which was at best promoting sexual themes and at worst violence against women (personally I think that's a stretch, but I've heard it several times). A couple of risque photos when she's already made out with chicks and shown us everything God gave her? I'm not really surprised.

And the pictures weren't that bad. The confessional one bothered me more, because to me that's more sacred than any priest or even the priesthood will ever be, but in the other one she's just being a whore. And we've all seen that before. Also? I'm pretty sure there aren't any priests that look like that. At least not that I've ever met.

The manger of Coffee Chain That Shall Remain Nameless is way too into me. Oh, and I bake a cake.

I realize that his interest may just be gratitude because I'm subsidizing his mortgage on my pumpkin spice latte expenditure, but I think he loves me.

I thought it was a little friendly when he told me his *entire* life story (no, really, I know his last three places of employment) when he started at this store, but I chalked it up to new guy wanting to know his customers. I thought it was slightly weird when he asked me how my day was and what else I had planned for the weekend, but hey, Starbucks Coffee Chain employees are friendly. I thought it was even weirder when he recognized me going into Noodles and said "hello", but whatever. They were right next door.

But stopping to chat when it's ten after seven in the morning and you have lines both inside and outside the store and I clearly was really, really just wanting my latte before a grueling and utterly worthless three discussions at some freakishly early hour of the morning at a campus an hour away and I'm already late thank you very much? That's way, way too friendly.

Maybe the guys at Alterra are more reserved. If I wanted human contact at seven in the morning, I'd be in a relationship thank you very much. *sniff*

Wait. Could he get me free caramel apple cider? Because there are *very* few things I wouldn't do for that.

I actually got to class, not late, and in plenty of time to draw a stupid action potential on the blackboard and commiserate with a friend about how terribly lost we feel about the whole brain chemistry thing (Did you know that Na+ influx and K+ eflux cause, respectively, depolarization and repolarization, and an excess of K+ flooding the cell causes hyperpolarization at the end of the action potential but after the absolute refractory period? Yeah, I didn't either.).

So much fun.

And then I realized that I was wearing loafers, pearls, full makeup at eight a.m., a pea coat, and a headband while carrying a latte and I almost annoyed myself with my preppy capitalism. Eh.

Le anyhoodles, the second part of the title refers to the amazingly good chocolate pumpkin bundt cake that I made today because I was bored and feeling wintery.

Well, I kind of made it. I didn't have a lot of the ingredients, so instead of whole wheat pastry flour, nonfat buttermilk, dark brown sugar, and pumpkin pie spice, I used regular cake flour (I honestly have no idea if this is the same thing, but it looked kind of close), skim milk, light brown sugar, and whatever spices I could find under the counter.

Most of this was laziness, because I really didn't want to go to the store, but I am religiously opposed to using anything labled "specific item" spice. No. No. You figure out what you want it to taste like, select the spices, and then double it. My mom told me this when I was just a wee lass (a whole...ten years ago...okay), and it's worked just fine. My pumpkin pies are renowned around...the dining room table by my drunk family members.

Okay. So maybe pumpkin pie spice wouldn't have been a bad call.

And it turned out okay, and of course I took pictures-

The glaze didn't really work because, again, too lazy to get buttermilk, but still.

I think I shall go eat some now.

What sadist at blogger decided I needed a title every day???

I'd just like to let you all know that I form unnatural bond with the families that you know are going down during the first five miinutes of Criminal Minds. This ridiculously happy family is doing homework, practicing the piano, talking about having another baby (for no good reason other than to make you go, "Awww..."), and now they're being bludgeoned to death. And that makes me sad.

Yes. I suppose I could stop watching. But then CBS will have won.


Okay, look. I'd really, really love to write something creative and funny and interesting that would make people think that I'm at least slightly more than a sucking waste of oxygen on this planet, but I've got nothing.

Because it is the middle of October. And by the middle of October, unless you are a pillow, an exam review, or a rich guy looking for an heir (Who needs conversation or common interests? I like being by myself. You just shut up and put me in the will and we'll get along great, peaches.), I can't express how much I don't care.

(Yes. I turn into a slut in October.)

I know that shouldn't be, because I'm young and am supposed to be having fun and all that crap that they tell you right along with "High school's the greatest time of your life!" and "No, really, you're really pretty!"

But I'm really, really tired. And really, really sick of physiological psychology and Egyptian civilization.

Ooh, but I did update my other blog this afternoon. Totally *not* when I was supposed to be learning about plate tectonics in oceanography. That would have been irresponsible.

Love in the Time of Cholera trailer hits the web. I'm sorry, where the hell is Liev Schreiber??? Hey, I read the damn thing, and his character shows up an *awful* lot. He clearly needs to be in the freaking trailer. *grumble*

Jorja Fox on why she's leaving CSI. Okay. I'm torn between being all "I don't care why, as long as you're gone," and outraged that someone would voluntarily leave CSI. They could kill me and I'd still show up with donuts or something just to hang around the set. Of course, I'm sad, but still.

I'm off to make Pharaoh Flashcards. (Ha! That almost sounds fun!)

We shall war with France. And then I can play.

All hail the Lovely Mary's Lovely Consort Nick, who is in possession of Showtime and tapes and therefore I will have the episodes of The Tudors, in all of their uncut Showtimey goodness, almost as they air. Life is good.

Just a couple of thoughts on the Tudors, because as you may have been able to divine from the past---oh---two years of posts, there is nothing I like more than a juicy-if-completely-inaccurate-royal saga (see: the entire summer of '05, or When I Convinced Myself I Was Russian).

- Thomas More? Sexier than previously assumed. Oh, I am so going to hell. The special hell for people who want to sleep with saints.
- Prepare for Reign? Probably the best tagline ever. I'm thinking of having it tattooed somewhere. Right after I send in my transcripts to St. Thomas More College.
- OMG I TOTALLY WANT THE POSTER!!! Somebody buy it for me, please.
- Okay, so I'm thrilled and humbled that IMDB offers the first two episodes, but they majorly edited them. I am not amused. Yeah, I'm sure there's something about it being a family site or whatever, but I seriously doubt that any person searching for and watching any episode of a Showtime series is going to be irreparably harmed by seeing some woman's breast. Get over it.

As of Wednesday night when I realized that I was about to start Year 2 of working towards a career that I don't want and consequently had a major breakdown that involved me flipping out on the sofa until Bones came on, we have a New Life Goal here in the Realm of No Marketable Skills, Talent, or Drive to Succeed- I've changed my major to history, and am now considering either law school (in very few situations is law school the easy way out, but I think it might apply here), or going on and getting a PhDin history and then teaching. Or, I'm going to die in grad school.

Having no marketable skills is a difficult thing, but having one marketable skill (writing) that you don't want to market is even more difficult, and when I actually thought about it (something I try to avoid at all costs), the only thing I can think of being happy doing is teaching. Either little kids or adults. And I'm way too shallow to survive on thirty grand a year for the rest of my life. So there. New Life Plan.

Please, before you automatically assume that this will be replaced by, oh, I don't know, kineseology or something in like three weeks, and begin to scroll through this, bear with me. I'm serious this time.

First, I'm going to be a sophomore, so I really do have to make up my mind about SOMETHING soon, or I will have spent two years starting every major in the College of Letters and Sciences. Not recommended.

Also, this time I did not make a decision under the influence of the emotional wreckage caused by graduation (art history), failure of requirements for another major (journalism), plan to marry a prime minister (international relations), or a hot TA (psychology). I am going to be at UWM for a long, long, long time (no emotional problems), I'm doing quite well in all my classes (no French---whee!!!), I realized it's a crapshoot to marry a prime minster because you have to get them while they're young or people think you're a gold-digging whore and then you're not sure whether they'll be rich or unemployed (no pipe dreams). So I have managed to make a decision without emotional distress. Am quite proud of myself.

And yes, I realize that this sounds like every other resolution I've made regarding my education, but this time I really think it makes sense. Of course, this is coming from the girl who has had 125% more majors than semesters completed, but whatever.

Dissertation topics, anyone?

Continuing with my crusading movie mini-marathon, I'm almost finished with Kingdom of Heaven, which much like Troy, apparently kicked ass at the overseas box office. Which would explain why the United States managed to come further in 250 years than the French ever have, even with a 1200 year head start.

I started watching it last week, but I was so exhausted that I fell asleep, and when I woke up Orlando was in Jerusalem already and shtupping the Bond Girl (btw, I bought the movie, and Natalie was right---it was worth it...) and I was very confused. So I had to start it over.

Tears for the fact that we never get to see Edward Norton though (although the mask thingy was kind of hot...okay, it wasn't, but still), and that he's dead with an hour left to go in the movie. *sigh* Why must the hot die young?

Well, I'm sure I had other things to talk about, but frankly I can't remember any of it. I've been interrupted writing this by two runs to pick up Colleen, two people at the door, and three phone calls.

So this is all you're getting. How I Met Your Mother tonight---*does happy dances*