Yes. I want a doctorate from this place.

Overheard in the union:

Guy on phone: "Dude. I did something bad. *pause* No, really bad. *pause* No, I peed on her! *longer pause* Yeah, I was wasted. *pause* No, it wasn't that bad. She had to wake me up to tell me. She slept on the floor. This morning was fine. *pause* No, trust me. We'll talk about it later. I have to go to class."

Oh. My. Lord.

Sports-Related Revelations

- I really, really enjoy buying alcohol for myself. I never got off on any of the typical teenager/adolescent stuff, but these last nine months? Being able to buy my own drinks? SO MUCH FUN. I don't care if it's juvenile and immature. IT'S FUN.

-I really, really hope I put my license back in my purse.

-I did. Oh good.

- It takes me a few innings to figure out what's going on. Like, who's hitting the ball.

- Once I get it though, I'm not nearly as stupid as I may appear.

- Well. Okay. Still pretty stupid.

- Beyonce's Single Ladies coming on in a mixed crowd is just...awkward.

- Those little rakey guys who run around making the dirt all pretty again? My favorite part.

- Yep. Still pretty stupid.

A neurotic day

Scene: Kitchen, Chez Morena

Morena: *breezing in* So I want to register for the GRE this week...

Mom: *chokes* You want to what?

Morena: Register for the GRE. For later in the summer.

Mom: Oh. That makes more sense. I thought you said "take" and you don't just "take" tests without any freaking out.

Morena: *laughing* Oh, you mean this huge test that is the only test that will ever matter in my entire life? Hahaha. Yeah. No. Believe me. We're leaving plenty of time for the breakdowns.

Mom: That's what I figured.


***

On to the TMI portion of the afternoon...I have a teensy little rash. It's hardly disfiguring, and it's not on any weird body part or anything- just some bumps on my upper arms.

Of course, in my head, you know that scene from Star Trek? When Kirk is having a reaction to something? Well, McCoy could totally just jab me with the hypospray because I spent the afternoon alternately dying of skin cancer, second degree burns, or (my nemesis) meningitis.

Answers.yahoo.com had no answers at all, thank you very much. Except that I should call my dermy. Well, I don't want to call Dermy. Dermy is far away, and he requires a copay. I want answers.yahoo.com to tell me something that Sophie2459 in Arkansas used to make it go away.

Ultimately decided that it was probably just a sunburn rash and not anything deadly. Of course, meningitis is sneaky like that.

You're welcome, customers and fellow employees.

At work we tend to listen to banal music. Music that fluctuates from "Hey, I used to like this song before I heard it nineteen times," to "Well, this is mildly irritating," to "Dear God, would someone please make Celtic Women shut the frick up?"

Today we had Peter, Paul, and Mary. And I couldn't take it anymore. So I made an executive decision that we would listen to "Chess: The Musical" and "Phantom of the Opera".

But not on the usual random. Oh. No. All the way through. Because I don't know about you, but I cannot be expected to maintain a narrative flow when you're jumping between "Masquerade" and "Angel of Music" like a crazy person. Please. We are not barbarians.

I also discovered that I really need to go out and buy Chess, because there is a CD out there! With Josh singing on it! And I don't have it! And the seventeen-year-old fangirl that was has taken up residence in my head and won't stop screaming about it.

Drama, Drama, Drama

We watched Frost/Nixon tonight, and, well, Imladris called it a "liberal orgasm". My mom had different words for it, but yeah, it pretty much was two hours of OMG NIXON CRAZY BASTARD and oh, wait, he might be getting dementia or possibly be an alcoholic we're not sure so we're just going to shove it in at the end of the movie.

I'm no Nixon fan, don't get me wrong. But I've watched the actual Frost/Nixon interviews, and while he definitely admitted some wrongdoing, he certainly never admitted to obstruction of justice, and not a whole lot of other major bombshells were dropped. At no point did Kevin Bacon rush in to stop the tape before he admitted to criminal activity.

I would like to put forth the theory that, amongst all of the untruths, the one that said John Birt looked like Matthew McFayden is one of the most egregious.

From the Editor

My sister woud like you do know that she is not a raging anti-semite like she seems to think you would have inferred from last night's post. Except I'm not entirely sure why she thinks that, but rest assured, she loves the Jews.

I would like you to know that I saw The Proposal this evening and it was funny and cute and uplifting and way less tupid than other rom coms I've seen. (Except The Holiday. I think I am the only person in the ENTIRE world who liked that movie, but dammit, I did.)

It was just my mom and sister and me, and I really feel like we should have taken advantage of the fact that Dad wasn't there and gone to see Star Trek again. Because I want to go back. Badly. But without all the whining. That just killed my buzz.

I'm still Catholic, don't freak out.

I was kidding Colleen yesterday about her using God's name and she goes, "Yeah, well, you're a Jewish studies major. Don't tell me about my God."

It was funny.

And yeah, I think I'm probably going to end up replacing religious studies with that. Which means a.) I was weirdly prophetic a month ago, and b.) two down, one to go. By dropping religious studies, I can drop my Gnosticism class, which will bring my credit level down to 18, which is considered regular tuition, which means I don't need to come up with a $900 overload fee, which I don't have, which means I don't have to borrow like $700 from my parents again. All of that- is a good thing.

The thesis thing also kind of resolves itself if I end up doing this- obviously the only way to make it count as the Jewish studies capstone is to write about the Jews, so there you go. Thesis topic found.

Now I just need to take the GRE and I will be all ready to go back to school!

Kathleen's Very Big Adventure

For a variety of reasons that have to do with well, a variety of reasons, I am spending today at UnWed Mothers, as my father so wittingly calls it. (Eh, he doesn't donate to the alumni fund, what does it matter?) I've still got about two hours left (Hopefully less- I don't know a single professor that wants to go the whole damn lecture time on the first day of a summer class...but this is also the guy who willingly went to the Arctic for a few months. Clearly he's not sane.) and already I've had SO MANY EXPERIENCES.

We began the day by being enchanted by the swarms of College For Kids kids around campus. Back in the day when Morena was a Little Morena, Rockford would send her and Little Imladris to College For Kids. Oh, the imperial fun we had. Pretending to hold up Curtin Hall while Erin Shanley laid underneath it, having lunch, learning about the atmosphere, having lunch, playing magic tricks with the kindergarten teacher from St. Eugene's, having lunch outside...

(Little Morena really enjoyed eating lunch. Especially when it was a sub. Ironically, I never go to City Subs now. But damn did I love it when I was little!)

The Tsarevitch and Rockford would cool their heels in the "munion" as Tsarevitch would call it for what seemed hours but I'm sure was like 45 minutes in reality.

Good times.

Also, I didn't pay for the tuition.

Better times.

Then we arrived at the Grind, and I discovered my deeply disturbing almost Pavlovian response to school and muffins. I think it must have come from the Concordia days, but whenever I'm at school, I need a muffin. I didn't particularly want a muffin this morning (any more than I ALWAYS want a muffin), but I was at school! Clearly I needed one!

And you know what? IT WAS GOOD.

After licking the crumbs off the table (What? It's summer. There's no one here!) I did some internet stuff I've been meaning to do for like weeks but I haven't because when I'm home I turn into a Facebook drone, staring numbly at the screen as I wait for some girl I went to grade school with to post pictures of her semester abroad and maybe she'll be drunk in some of them. It's really hard to do that in an open computer lab, because it makes stalking feel more like stalking and constantly refreshing your own page? Just makes you look narcissistic.

Then I decided that I'm almost positively majoring in Jewish Studies at least as soon as I get up the courage to ask the Religious Studies woman for a dropped major form and that's currently freaking me out because she's a scary, scary woman who makes children and quite possibly Jesus weep.

All that soul-searching and career changing kind of jacked me up, so I went for a walk. Kind of roaming, because I didn't want to get too far west or south because I'm a chicken little white girl from Grafton. When I ended up on Oakland I started walking faster. Also discovered that I'm a stupid chicken little white girl from Grafton because dude, it's like 95 degrees outside and you just walked for an HOUR and twenty minutes? Shall we call the ambulance to rehydrate you now or wait until you actually collapse?

(I kid. I kept hydrated. With Holton Hall water, sweet nectar of the Gods.)

But then- then came the best part of the whole day. I saw- wait for it- BIG DADDY. And I'm not entirely sure he knew who I was but he smiled and asked me how I was and I had to refrain from saying, "Good! And you regrew that creepy little beard! Good call, you looked like a twelve-year-old without it!", instead replying, "Just fine. How are you?" whilst texting the whole creepy-beard-twelve-year-old thing to Katie. Because she obviously needed to know about this RIGHT THEN.

Ahh. Methods. How I miss you.

So. Now I think I may go eat some yogurt. Who knows what else may happen?

Day 4

It's the fourth day that it's been kind of warm out and damn, I do not like this. I always forget how much I don't like this. And then it comes back and SERIOUSLY HATE. I want to move to Alaska. Or Canada. Because while I certainly don't believe that they've figured out universal health care, I'm thinking that if someone gave me a band aid for free it would be better than the plan I'll be able to afford once I get kicked off of my parents' plan.

(September 11, 2012. I live in fear.)

What else happened today? Jon and Kate Plus 8 because Jon and/or Kate Plus 8 Most of the Time And On Alternating Weekends. That's kind of depressing.

My sister is starting a summer class tomorrow and I'm kind of jealous. That's kind of depressing too.

I am the Samuel Pepys of blogging.

Is anyone else into Restoration-era diarists? No. Just me. Oh...okay.

But at least Sam had, you know, like the Great Fire of London to write about. I...have a broken air conditioner in a house that other people are living in. And I'm planning on getting coffee tomorrow with friends. And e-mailing a neighbor as soon as I come up with a polite, non-crazy way of saying OH MY GOD PLEASE TELL ME EVERYTHING IS GOING TO BE OKAY AND I'LL HAVE A JOB AT SOME POINT AND NOT DIE SURROUNDED BY ARTICLES THAT NEVER GOT PUBLISHED BUT NO CHILDREN.

Is there a non-crazy way of saying that?

I'm watching The Nanny. It is every bit as addictive as it was six years ago when Mary and I were able to quote it. God bless Nick at Nite.

Maybe Sam would have been more interesting if he were a slightly neurotic prospective grad student and had access to basic cable.

Reason #746 That I Never Joined the Peace Corps.

The heat. It annoys me to no end.

And I don't think it's totally fair that my mom is all "Oh! Those poor people! They can't sleep in this heat!" and rushing around getting repair people for Tenant Family when I am wasting away here in a puddle of what used to be my undereye concealor and will be sleeping in a room with closed windows. Pssh. Just because I'm not paying quite as much to live here. Whatever.

Inordinately Upset

Bradley Whitford and Jane I-can't-spell-her-last-name file for divorce.

Oh, my God.

Who's next? My parents?

Jon and Kate had better be announcing that they've decided to work it out on Monday. I don't think I could handle two breakups of marriages that have nothing to do with me in one week.

Dear Grandpa,

Sixty years ago, you got married. Eleven years ago, we celebrated your 49th anniversary because we knew Grandma (despite your best efforts) was not going to see the 50th. One year ago, we spent the evening celebrating a variety of things and you were happy and healthy. Today there was a cross next to your name in the bulletin and some other family moved into your house.

They're nice. It kills me to admit it, but they are. You'd probably like their little girl. Now, at least. Probably not ten years ago. Also, they want a babysitter, and you neglected to stash a couple hundred grand in a Cayman Islands account that would cover my tuition, so that's a good thing.

I've already done the whole "look how far we've come post", and I won't do it again. But I really can't believe how much this has impacted us, and when I think that a year ago it didn't exist? It's been...unbelievable.

But you know what? I'm glad it happened. Not you dying. Because even though yes, you're happier; yes, the economic crash would have probably killed you anyway; and yeah, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have handled that whole cancer thing well, I still refuse to say that it's a better thing that you're gone. That just plain sucks.

And do not for a second think that I enjoyed this, or felt like, oh, I'm glad we have a project. (See above link.)

But it taught me a lot. Things that I never anticipated happening happened. My family changed. I found out who my friends were. I found out that it takes a special kind of friend to stick their head into a wet oil-painted cabinet because you need help and then ask, "Okay. How obnoxious do you want me to be?" I found out that I'm really glad I have those friends. I've gotten into screaming fights with my immediate family over that house, but I also spent time with my family that I wouldn't take back.

I think you would have been proud of us. All three kids maintained fantastic GPAs during this whole thing, if I do say so myself. Daddy worked as hard as he did when Grandma was dying, never once saying, "Hey, not my family." Mommy worked harder than anyone, and through the worst circumstances imaginable. I whined. But not a lot.

Mostly I'm glad we could do it for you. It would have killed you (I really need to stop saying that.) to have lost the house, and it would have been lost. Hopefully it will stay in the family. I mean, at some point I'll be employable, right? (It would have helped if you had passed along some of your engineering acumen, though.) Hopefully someday your great-grandchildren will grow up there.

So, Grandpa. It sucked. But I'm glad you didn't have to do it, and I'm glad we could do it for you.

It's been an honor.

Love,

Kathleen

P.S. Okay. We got a little bit of paint on your hat. I'm sorry. It's only because we couldn't bear to take it down.

Spectacular Amounts of Stupid

I am paler than the moon. I have red hair and blue eyes and I frequently get red just be moving. ("Did you just get back from vacation?" "No, that's...just my skin.") Do you get the picture?If I sparkled a little I could be in the Twilight books. (I'd probably have to jack up the sexual repression like 1,000x.) I know from sunburn. I've gotten some terrible sunburns in my lifetime- one when I was so young that my parents called me "Lobster Baby". When I was about twelve I got one so bad that my eyeballs were burned and I couldn't really see for like a whole day. And a few years ago I spent the day on the lake without anything- yeah, that was pleasant. A week later when I could finally shower, at least . I know better than to go outside without sunscreen. I use SPF 70 almost every day and reapply when I go outside for a long period of time.

Unless. Unless it's thunderstorming in the morning and then it stops and I go "Yay!" and bound outside to take a four-mile walk without realizing that a.) it's 80 degrees outside and b.) UVA and UVB travel through clouds, dude.

Yeah. My chest looks really good right now.

Other act of stultifying stupidity? I was actually at Wal-Mart and did not, of course, purchase anything that would make this feel better because "Pssh. It's not that bad!"

Four hours later I have an unbelievably pungent vinegar-soaked paper towel compress draped over my boobs. So now I smell really nice, too!

I'd better shower before I do anything tomorrow.

Still don't have a lot going on.

In Grandpa's house news- we are officially finished. There is not even anything else that we conceivably do. It's not the half-assed, "Oh, we're totally almost finished you know, except for pulling up the carpet and doing the floors and cleaning the closet and the basement...yeah, almost finished" feeling we've had for months. The carpet is gone. The basement is clean. There's nothing in the closets except for some pink paint that I started ignoring during my "screw it" phase. Oh, and the water in the upstairs bathroom is flowing just fine. After we paid a plumber to unscrew the faucet and knock out all the dirt. Yep. We rock at this home improvement thing.

In thesis news, I'm still totally into the Jews. But I'm also thinking maybe post-conciliar church? You know, the whole Eucharistic prayer-in-the-vernacular, receiving-under-both-species part that actually had nothing to do with the council? I don't know. I'm just thinking out loud in HTML.

In other news- I found a lovely little floaty dress for $6 today. It's too big everwhere but the bust, so I'll have to be pinned into it, but SIX DOLLARS. *love*

In news that has absolutely nothing whatsoever to do with me- If I ever befriend the Pinkett-Smiths, I'm not inviting them to my house. Seriously, Jada? A bedroom? That's just rude.

In news that unfortunately has everything to do with me, my hair is filthy. And I'm too lazy to wash it.

Fail

I don't like summer. I don't like working (haha, as though I had a job that actually scheduled me occasionally), and I don't like being bored. That leaves school. In two and a half months. *existential sigh*

(I can't exactly pay for that either, right now. I'm ignoring that.)

Kind of new topic, I've spent the last month reading stupid books because while I love school, I also really love having time to read stupid books that don't have anything to do with ancient Mycenaean architecture, but lately I've gotten back into the history/theology thing because OH MY LORD I SERIOUSLY NEED A THESIS TOPIC.

No. I'm not kidding. I've got nothing. I need to stay within the historical implications of Vatican II. Other than that- zilch. Any ideas? Seriously. I need help.

(Possibly psychiatric.)

15 Books

I'm tired and torn between being deleriously happy and deleriously weepy that we're finished, so you're getting a meme.

Don't take too long to think about it. Fifteen books you've read that will always stick with you. First fifteen you can recall in no more than 15 minutes in no particular order. Tag 15 friends, including me because I'm interested in seeing your fifteen too.

1.) Rebecca, Daphne DuMaurier
2.) Castles in the Air, Judy Corbett
3.) Emma Brown, Claire Boyland
4.) Betsy's Wedding, Maud Hart Lovelace
5.) The Historian, Elizabeth Kostova
6.) Bridget Jones' Diary, Helen Fielding
7.) Jane Eyre, Charlotte Bronte
8.) Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell
9.) War and Peace, Leo Tolstoy
10.) The Nine, Jeffrey Toobin
11.) Wuthering Heights, Emily Bronte
12.) Bleak House, Charles Dickens
13.) Les Miserables, Victor Hugo
14.) The Count of Monte Cristo (authentic 1500-page version), Alexander Dumas
15.) Seabiscuit, Laura Hillenbrand

Facebook Statuses I Would Have Had Today If I Had an iPhone.

But I don't. So I just texted them to myself. Along with a grocery list, a list of things we still have to finish tomorrow, and a reminder to sew up the back of my dress.

Kathleen's hair is disgusting. 9:30 AM.

Kathleen is buying cheese (what the hell?) 10:25 AM.

Kathleen spends so much time hanging out in the church parking lot waiting for John that maybe she should convert. 10:45 AM.

Kathleen you want to know what's funny? Watching a grumbling girl individually ring up 15 different moving boxes because Home Depot's self check-out setup SUCKS. That's what. 11:15 AM.

Kathleen wonders why Miley Cyrus has been on the radio three times already this morning. And more importantly, why her song is growing on her? 11:23 AM

Kathleen is laughing because a guy just walked past in short shorts. Ahahaha. 11:25 AM.

Kathleen the message on a sign outside a church near my house: The Bread of Life never gets stale. Oh, come on. It's the Most Holy Body and Blood of Christ Sunday. That's borderline disrespectful. 11:31 AM.

Kathleen gets to cut the grass. Oooh. Never done this before. Exciting! 11:35 AM.

Kathleen okay, this is harder than it looks. 12:10 PM.

Kathleen thinks that, since she has never mowed the lawn before, it would have been nice if someone had mentioned that it required a sports bra. Ouch. 12:45 PM.

Kathleen thinks that she can forget asking for a letter of recommendation from the neighbor, because she just sprayed lawn clippings all over their driveway. 12:53 PM.

Kathleen wow, my already filthy hair looks really pretty after cutting the grass for an hour. 12:55 PM.

Kathleen- this so counts as my daily Pilates. 12:59 PM.

Kathleen can confidently rule out lawn service as a possible career option. 1:05 PM.

Kathleen is attempting to see God in everyone. 2:00 PM.

Kathleen oh, thank God, Mike's hard lemonade. 5:00 PM.

Things I Learned Today

- I am the most fun person to see Angels and Demons with. I don't know if it's the...appreciation (I refuse to call it a fetish, as Colleen so helpfully suggested) or what, but I am a damn good time during that movie.

- I'm turning into a lightweight. Time was, I could finish a large concrete mixer and be all, "Mmm, that was tasty. Now. Can we get more?" But my goodness, half of mine is in the freezer now. I'm getting old.

- Apparently when my parents were young TV didn't go through the night? And they would play the National Anthem and then it would go a test pattern every night? Huh. No idea. I'm torn between thinking this is adorably nostalgic or disturbingly nationalistic. I'm going with nostalgic.

- It is officially easier to get the Israelis and the Palestinians together than it is to coordinate Pizza Hut and Fiddleheads work schedules so we can all go to Old World Wisconsin. There is an approximately 4-hour window in mid-July, so Eagle here we come!

- Old World Wisconsin is friggin' expensive.

- As is Polish Fest.

- And the Renaissance Faire.

- Maybe you pay more for the "e" on the end.

- There a ton of Star Trek flair on Facebook. All of them probably don't need to be sent to my sister/mom/Mary. But they have been.

Very Serious Historian has Very Serious Business to discuss.

I don't know if I ever wrote about this, but I probably did because during the semester, most of my posts are OMG TEST COMING GONNA FAIL PHEW THANK GOD GOT AN A. On one of the tests I had for Ireland, I completely forgot to write anything about the Irish literary revival. It ended up not costing me that much (Favoritism. You're doing it right.) and I got a 98, but I was still kind of pissed. I really enjoy getting 110s. (Shocking. I know.)

Anyway. I've been watching the movie Nora and I am fairly certain that if we had been allowed to watch that in class instead of listening to a lecture, I never ever would have forgotten to put James Joyce in there.

Well. Except the movie is basically soft-core porn and it took me like twenty minutes to watch because I fast-forwarded through most of the awkward bits because whatever, I don't care how old I am it makes me uncomfortable okay? I had to leave the window when two birds started doing it the other day. So maybe communal educational viewing wouldn't be the best idea ever.

It also made me wonder how close to the truth it was. Was James Joyce really a crazy manipulative douche? Because wow, if that movie is correct, no wonder Ulysses is so hard to get through.

James, I hear you, man. I myself am something of a control freak. In fact, I had a moment this evening when it occurred to me that I would make a fantastic anorexic if I didn't like food so much. This is going to sound angsty and overly-dramatic and make me seem like a 300 lb agoraphobe on LiveJournal, and that's really not true. It wasn't even an incident, it was just a few sentences today that pissed me off and made me mad and my first thought was "Okay, what can I control instead?" Honestly. If I didn't have the relationship with complex carbohydrates that I do, I'd probably weigh 90 lbs.

ANYWAY. I hear you, is what I'm saying. But dude, sometimes you just have to let go.

So. I'm definitely advocating more Ewan McGregor movies in History 353.