If You Had A Time Machine, You Could Either Stalk Me, Or Thwart Aristotle -- Take Your Pick

THURS. Went to class, as usual. Lit Theory is kicking my butt, but I love it so much, so even when I spend three hours staring at a page and not comprehending what is going on at all, I still feel kinda giddy, like the rush you get when you fly down a snowy hillside on a sled. Of course, that might just be lightheadedness from trying to read about saying the unsayable and all the interminable circles that leads one in, but oh well.

After class, I headed back to my apartment and chilled over some more Levinas, trying to cram all my homework in. I hopped into the shower real quick and then went out. Okay, first of all, Once Hermanos has INCREDIBLE food. Second, it's completely, authentically Mexican. As in, you have to order in Spanish, beause no one there speaks English. It was so great. I was so lost. Good thing other people are fluent in the language, because I know it not at all, but they took care of me, and made sure I wasn't stuck with cow brains...yeah, I'm dead serious on that one. Gross, eh? The guacamole there is to die for; I highly recommend it to everyone, just be sure to bring a Spanish RM with you or something.

Dinner took a couple hours, and I was a little frightened by the "The South Will Rise Again" undertones (c'mon, I'm from Maryland, I'm a Yankee), but all in all, it was fun. I headed back to the apartment, had time to change into pajamas to crack into another textbook when my cell phone rang. It was Matt, and before I said hello I shouted out, "Flan party!" Our friend Misty had invited us over to her apartment for flan that night, because Matt loves it and bugs her incessantly to make it and she finally cracked under the pressure, and we were about ten minutes late. So I threw myself into a pair of jeans and ran across the street to his apartment -- except no one was there when I knocked! My phone rang just then, and he told me he was already in the car IN HIS PAJAMAS. I didn't have to change after all. Sigh. We called Misty a couple times to get directions, and her friend Joseph came outside to guide us through the winding Labyrinth that is Stadium Terrace to Misty's apartment where several flans awaited us. I had a piece. Okay, half a piece. Okay, about a one centimeter sliver I cut off from a piece. Flan isn't my thing; this stuff wasn't too foul, at least I managed to choke the stuff down. For those of you who haven't had it, it's kind of like eating eyeballs coated in a caramelized sugar sauce -- at least, I imagine the consistency of the stuff is much like that of eyeballs. I could be wrong, but use your imagination on this one.

On the way home, Matt mentioned he had been ring shopping. Yikes! She's just a kid! In fact, that's what we call her -- The Child. But he seems to like her, so that's what counts. As long as he stops giving me long lectures about "dating the wrong guy" and needing "to find someone awesome." Thanks, Matt, I'd really rather NOT find someone awesome.... I think I'll just settle for a dull, personality-less towel who will make my mortality a long and brutal nightmare of unflfillment and ashen dreams. Jeez, I'm not a retard, give me SOME credit.

I ended the night by finally hopping online and chatting some people up, which is always a good thing. Then

FRIDAY. Flew through my homework and digested as much Tennyson as I could before class. I really enjoy Tennyson (I know, some of you will probably hate me for that, but frankly, I don't care. I like what I like.), so I was sad that I had to breeze through it superfast, but I made it through everything in time to run up to campus and meet Kristin and Russell for lunch.

Russell had some pretty big news: Keith's coming to BYU! Heck yes! He got his acceptance for Winter Semester, so we're all pretty excited for that. The Virgin Boys may be wee-uhd, but they are FUNNY. Oh, and Carl (hi, Carl!) got his mission call to the Utah Provo South (I think South) mission, so he's going to be out here starting in December too! Whee!

I made it to Creative Writing on time today (On time, people! That shows you what happens when professors write meltingly nice comments on my short stories, I actually drag my sorry legs out of the Wilk and up the ugly carpeting of the JKB ON TIME.), and put my head down and pretended to be asleep for fifty minutes. So much for being on time. But the story we were discussing wa pretty lame and did nothing for me. I found out later that the author had written it in high school -- pretty good for a high school kid, and I gave her a thumbs up after class, but still not enough to stir me from my lethargy.

Philosophy was so terrible I wanted to gnaw my face off. Someone asked the professor what logic was, so he went off an a forty-minute tangent explaining deductive vs. inductive and outlining proofs. Pretty much I wanted to go back in time and punch Aristotle in the face for ever inventing the stuff. I love the stuff, but not in that situation. It drove a guy who sits near me to such desperation that he snatched a girl's barette off her desk and began examining its facets. So we spent five happy minutes discussing what he'd look like in pink plastic barette bows, and then went back to our mindless stupor. Stupid philosophy. Eventually, though, the bell rang, and I was set free...and that's when my weekend REALLY began.

Curious?