tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-41162122012-01-25T11:33:12.689-05:00the colours in your headAlexnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2681100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-85035835695122739362009-07-10T23:26:00.001-04:002009-07-10T23:27:37.711-04:00

Just realised that this thing was still kicking about. Thought I'd put up a sign to point to my new digs, years after the fact.You can now find me at http://musie.wordpress.com

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-51773795055021935462006-11-14T01:20:00.000-05:002006-11-14T02:04:35.179-05:00

I found myself obsessively cleaning tonight. This is not an overly bizarre occurrence, as I tend to go through cycles of neat-freakery (invisible to my more obsessively clean friends, but within my messy world true marvels of dusting, organising and even sweeping. Dust pan and all.) followed by descents into slobbery, followed by denial and then sudden outbursts of frenzied clearing up. What is

Alexnoreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-15712417973309056362006-11-13T12:30:00.000-05:002006-11-13T12:33:25.127-05:00

As per usual, I'm in the computer lab in the Science Center, trying desperately to write a lab report. I'm on a stupid PC, so I click on Start, go to Programs, go through the list of all the science applications they have, and... nothing.They don't have Word on this computer. Or any kind of word processing software that I can see. What kind of world are we living in when there are 16 different

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-11971495384051727302006-11-09T11:47:00.000-05:002006-11-09T11:49:43.292-05:00

Does this sort of alphabetical order make ANY sense to you?a,b,V, G,d, e, ZH,Z, i!? Seriously? A B V?Russian dictionaries make me want to kill each time I look at one.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1162876734216356872006-11-06T23:54:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:31.753-05:00

A propos of nothing:"So... how is your knitting going?"Two hats down, one on the needles, half a scarf, almost an entire handbag, and about a million projects forming in my head, thank you. But you're lovely to ask.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1162778362167255362006-11-05T20:12:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:31.427-05:00

I signed up for Fussy's National Blog Post Month, but it seems I've already failed at the daily blogging thing. In my defense, I have been deluged with visitors and midterms, so haven't really had the opportunity to be on the computer at length. To make up for this, fours are in order to make up for the four days I've missed.Four things that make me happy right this very second1. My German

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1162441299536830002006-11-01T23:19:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:31.127-05:00

Posting shall now resume. Readers, all two of you, rejoice.I'll write something actual tomorrow or the next day, but for now...I'm so full of pent-up energy that I'm actually twitching. I'm on the verge of screaming. Or getting up and running around the library. But... I suppose I should actually try to apply said hyperactivity to my paper. Sigh...

Alexnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1158082194636792022006-09-12T12:25:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:30.884-05:00

Jon and I went to the Grand Canyon yesterday. Stunning, astounding, breathtaking? Yes. Hordes of foreign tourists? Hell yes! But otherwise bliss? Well...You see, the problem was that we decided to go for a hike. Or rather my sly little eyes picked out a minute little trail running down the side of an otherwise sheer cliff, and the rest of me started jumping up and down, pointing and making animal

Alexnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1157824487656539812006-09-09T12:59:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:30.566-05:00

Apparently it takes 4 days to sober up from the drunk that the lovely New Orleans bartender (not waitress) Michelle put on me. Or perhaps, I've just had phenomenally bad luck with finding the internet.We're in Tucumcari, New Mexico right now, en route to Las Vegas, NM and Santa Fe. Jon is napping since he had to get up early to take the car to get looked at by the mechanic, so I'm using the

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1157528356410381602006-09-05T21:50:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:30.296-05:00

I am in New Orleans, and I am in love with a waitress named Michelle. Anything more will require a longer blog entry than I am sober enough to spell.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1157209912104517402006-09-02T11:07:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:30.031-05:00

12:15 am, Holiday Inn reception.Guy at the desk: You know, if you sign up to enlist, you'll get six dollars off on your room.[Jon, half-asleep, pauses and assumes that it's actually only something involving signing a sheet. He nods vaguely.]GATD: Then again, I'm not sure if the six dollar discount is actually worth having to go to Iraq. I wonder how many people have accidentally been suckered

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1157209587119892572006-09-02T09:04:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:29.740-05:00

Greetings from the Holiday Inn Express in Greensboro, North Carolina! After innumerable setbacks, mainly involving the difficulty of consolidating Jon's possessions into one car, we finally closed the trunk and made it out of the garage, heading (eventually) out to places West.For now, we're mainly heading southwards down the coast, towards Atlanta, where through a strange freak of coincidence

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1156262435845307322006-08-22T11:52:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:29.458-05:00

I just had a Dachshund puppy bite my ear while I was doing Downward-Facing Dog in an attempt to stretch cramping calf muscles. I am officially not a dog person. And there are currently three in residence at my house. A Dalmatian, my old mutt, and my brother's new puppy, bouncing and yapping and growling, and being all needy in the way that only dogs can pull off. I miss just being around my cats.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1155654952222778512006-08-15T11:02:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:29.148-05:00

It always amuses me to wonder what my grocer must think of me. I have a bordering-on-pathological fear of food bacteria, and as a result do not buy ANYTHING except pasta in bulk (even cans scare me.) I have been known to thrown out perfectly good meat simply because it has been residing in my kitchen for over a day, and the idea of leftovers and doggie bags vaguely disgusts me. This leads to

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1155576178609443252006-08-14T11:11:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:28.886-05:00

I went on a walk around the islands in the northern part of the city the other day, and stumbled across the dwelling places of the newly-rich and not-so-famous. Beautiful buildings mostly left untouched, occasionally given horrific Nouveau Russian facelifts (the current vogue appears to be for the Swiss chalet look.) Lots of shiny black Mercedes with tinted windows. Occasional Hummers. The

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1155473438530677672006-08-13T07:45:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:28.557-05:00

I've always had a dread of taking showers.It's not the shower itself that I'm worried about. I'm a clean person, and I actually find showering to be quite a pleasant experience. You're all warm and lovely, and then you get to be all clean... former roommates of mine can attest to the fact that I take the longest showers on earth, once topping out at a remarkable 50 minutes. A horrible waste of

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1155300608095923682006-08-11T08:01:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:28.274-05:00

I have a grand total of four suitemates here in St. Petersburg. Two are a pair of perfectly lovely Spanish girls, while the other two... I like to call the Germans. Not that I have anything against Germans, per se. I dated one for a year, and have various friends from there. My problem, however, is with the male half of the couple. While the girl is perfectly nice, though a little strange, (she's

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1155212602466865232006-08-10T07:38:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:28.018-05:00

Jon went home yesterday, and I must confess I find myself at a bit of a loose end without him. Not that it's unpleasant to be on my own again, but I'm a little thrown off, I must say. I went grocery shopping yesterday, and marvelled at the possibility that my cart could contain just bread, cheese, smoked fish, pickles and fruit. No manly quantities of sugary cereal. No Belgian waffles. No juice

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1155201314334793432006-08-10T05:05:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:27.803-05:00

We were talking about the news in one of my Russian classes (mysteriously named SMI-- I'm truly not sure what that stands for. It doesn't seem to differ in any significant way from other classes.) and the tedious Finnish missionary (he's learning Russian so he can go convert people or something like that. I wasn't able to quite make anything out through the thick Finnish accent.) said, with true

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1155153563629954582006-08-09T15:55:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:27.531-05:00

-You know, when I first met you, I thought you looked a lot like Hilary Swank.-This is the point at which you really need to specify... Hilary Swank at which precise moment in her career?Apparently he meant at the Oscars. But still, I think the clarification was in order.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1154939997276470682006-08-07T04:31:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:27.253-05:00

Jon and I went out clubbing last night.This is remarkable on two counts: firstly, it was Sunday, when you think any respectable person would be sleeping off their Friday-Saturday hangovers and preparing to make a dashing impact on the working week. The club, however, was bizarrely packed. Perhaps the term "Stylish Club" tacked on to the brass sign (newly added since last year) at the entrance

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1154682720998057062006-08-04T05:03:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:26.985-05:00

I go downstairs to the internet cafe in my dorm, ready and willing to give over my money for contact with the outer world. I request twenty minutes and hand over a fifty ruble bill.Deformed-face woman at desk (rudely): You can't.Alex: But twenty minutes is twenty rubles.D-FWaD (r): I have no change.A: But I only have fity rubles.D-FWaD (r) (gesturing at post-Soviet building complexes out the

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1154590386285061702006-08-03T03:17:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:26.742-05:00

It's nasty and cold and rainy today, and strangely enough I have lost all desire to sit in Russian class and discuss current events. The plight of Russian women, forced to uphold the economy while their drunk spouses punch them and hold the actual positions of power (or that's at least the gist I got from the article) is truly compelling and fascinating. Today, however, there's just a little

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1154507404163136142006-08-02T04:02:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:26.443-05:00

I had bear for dinner yesterday.Jon and I finally managed to get it together enough to drag ourselves out of the room, where we had sat around for hours eating obscene amounts of Cheerios and watching bad movies, consult the good ol' city guide for actual-date-worthy restaurants (as opposed to restaurants of the simple eating variety, without the date intent. Or as opposed to imaginary scenarios

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1154443603886661902006-08-01T10:31:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:25.975-05:00

Jon is now in St. Petersburg with me, and we're already set on making our stamp on the town, reclaiming it from last year's memories and forming new ones. For the first little bit, it was weird being back here on my own, without familiar faces. Shops have been closed or moved, and I'm living in a whole different dorm, which made it a little bit better, and a little bit more surreal, as I'm down

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1153588025988824672006-07-22T13:04:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:25.614-05:00

I just watched "Mr. & Mrs. Smith" and... I think we just need to all take a minute and contemplate just how beautiful Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie are. Separately, together, any way you like them. Perfection.Also, I have to confess that I really liked it. Then again, I'm starved for English these days, and it's raining, so I would probably like a movie featuring wet ferrets dancing, as long as it

Alexnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1153499602334744682006-07-21T12:20:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:25.237-05:00

I had a nasty man pretend to bump into me in order to grab a handful of my left ass cheek on the street today... who then had the gall to waggle his eyebrows at me when I turned around in shock, trying to figure out how to scream "Ass-grabbing pervert!!!" at him in Russian. I had to settle At least I still get some attention amidst the supermodel wannabes, even though it appears to only be from

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1153192670534645422006-07-17T21:13:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:24.859-05:00

I'm sitting in Heathrow Airport for what feels like the millionth time in the past few days, which is actually because I had to spend, oh, 8 hours here on Sunday between getting in from Antananarivo/ Jon rearranging his plane ticket to India/ waiting with bags for the guy at whose apartment we were staying to get in from playing cricket. I was afflicted with a lingering case of generic Tropical

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1152794901575781092006-07-13T08:28:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:24.382-05:00

I am writing from Antananarivo. I should not, in fact, be in Antananarivo. By all rights, I should be in the air between Paris and London, getting ready to spend the night at Jon's mother's boyfriend's brother's place and then part ways until the 28th. The gods, however, decided that actually sticking to the set plan of things would be far too easy, so the night before last, while my household

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1152260150464339732006-07-07T03:34:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:23.894-05:00

There's a law in the tropics that stipulates that the further away you go from conventional civilisation, the less attention is paid to conventional logic regarding cars and their supposed physical limitations. Four wheel drive only road, consisting entirely of mud pits, mini-ravines and arbitrary mounds of gravel? Nothing that an ancient beat-up Renault can't solve. Seven people in a car? A

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1151224215058590542006-06-25T04:04:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:23.575-05:00

I'm back in Antananarivo and back at the World's Slowest Internet Connection after a whirlwind tour of the Northeast coast of Madagascar. We leave for indolence and the beaches of Nosy Be this afternoon, but we thought it best to spend another day going around the back street of this beautiful city before full lounging commences.The East was really quite beautiful. We delayed leaving Tana our

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1150410486584908322006-06-15T17:45:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:23.324-05:00

I was just about to get down on the ground and do a couple situps when a big black beetle (not a cockroach... one of those that typically infest my house every summer)decided to bumble on through the library, so my Bikini Body(TM) is going to have to manifest itself through the sheer power of prayer, not through desperate last minute exercise. My fear of creepy-crawlies just won't stand for it,

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1150101035474542252006-06-12T04:21:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:22.870-05:00

I'm sitting in Heathrow airport, en route home to Milan. An announcement just came over the loudspeaker saying that a bag has been left unattended outside Dixon’s, the duty free shop across the way. It’s tragic in a way how suddenly my brain is filled with thoughts of explosions, with a shivering in the pit of my stomach. I’m eyeing the pillar two meters away, with the payphones attached to it,

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1148448729775331972006-05-24T01:31:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:22.621-05:00

I was very sad to find out at the age of 12 that it was not, in fact, volumptuous.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1148438820842485472006-05-23T22:45:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:22.357-05:00

For your viewing pleasure, I present: Tall Girl Stories! (Very safe for work)And no, I wasn't surfing for this... I was sent the link by a friend.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1148414416048299412006-05-23T14:50:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:22.078-05:00

Fussy's newest post has been the source of significant trauma for me. She talks about telling her son that his fish haven't died, they've just been taken to the pet hospital to be taken care of. Much laughter, until... My cat Joey? and my cat Booboo (yes, I was 4 when I named him)? Who were given to loving families who really really wanted cats? I'm terrified that I have been living a lie for 13

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1148054733414714022006-05-19T12:02:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:21.765-05:00

When you're stuck in the library, say, writing a paper due in 5 hours, sometimes you go on the facebook. And then you come back from the bathroom and you realise that the person sitting with the clearest view of your computer screen is a good friend of the person whose photos you just went through for the past 20 minutes, and... you really hope they were far enough away not to recognise the

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1147928969485869082006-05-18T00:57:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:21.529-05:00

OK, so... it's 12:54 am... VERY early Thursday. When is my next paper due? 5 pm Friday. How long is it supposed to be? ~12 pages. Have I started researching it? Not really. Do I have a CLEAR idea of what I'm going for? Nope, beyond themes of women and horses in Isaac Babel's Red Cavalry stories (marvellous, by the way!) Have I at least read the subject matter? Yes, thank heavens, but I'll need to

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1147928203470035652006-05-18T00:53:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:21.300-05:00

I have iTunes on shuffle and the past three songs have been:Drinking in LA by Bran Van 3000California by Joni Mitchelland Goin' to California by Led ZeppelinI think the madness has officially reached the tipping point.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1147903663838111002006-05-17T18:04:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:21.084-05:00

Now, I ask you, why is a girl I hate wearing a bizarre, loose, red, orange and green plaid top with a white ruffled high-necked bib collar over a circle skirt and ankle boots? Is she doing this just to make my day? Is this a little present to me, her saying "yes, Alex, I know you glower at me every time you see me, and I know your boyfriend makes fun of my shoe collection. But I love you! Here!

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1147811821829403832006-05-16T16:26:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:20.767-05:00

Just to demonstrate how small and quasi-incestuous the Russian studies world is here:I go to the library to look up books on Isaac Babel. SOMEONE has checked ALL of them out until September. My paper is due Friday. I contemplate crying hysterically. Alternately, murder might work. I go online and whinge about this fact to Inna. Inna replies, "Hey! I think my cousin might have them. Here, let me

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1147665431751649572006-05-14T23:54:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:20.480-05:00

Sabine: What do you think of beards?Alex: On men?On another note, I have formally decided that when I grow old I am going to get a convertible with hydraulics and drink everyone under the table, just like my friend's Puerto Rican grandma.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1147153078519971882006-05-09T01:35:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:20.212-05:00

My tummy hurts, perhaps after my orgy of gorging on chocolate chip cookies. And I have an oral exam tomorrow. And my paper is only 3 pages long, and, while this inital part is getting polished, it still lacks a certain "I actually researched this in full."Thank heavens for extensions.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1147149935058592122006-05-09T00:39:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:19.671-05:00

I love words. More specifically, I love thesauri. Also, I love dictionaries, particularly weird dictionaries, such as the ones specifically for obscure words. I also love technical dictionaries in foreign languages. The terms you find in there are so delightfully useless for any practical purpose (hey! Just like the words I learned all semester in Russian!) and the books are so dusty and unused

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1147017851868717492006-05-07T11:56:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:19.274-05:00

Also known as the "I really have no driving urge to read a tome entitled On Soviet Totalitarian Psychiatry" post.Anyway, here goes:I get really really really freaked out by the X-files, and so have only ever been able to sit through 4 whole episodes, though my little brother is obsessed, and wants to watch them all the time. No particular reason.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1146956131026159172006-05-06T18:54:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:18.997-05:00

Those would go over quite well, right about now. But we're getting sushi tonight, so I suppose that's second best.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1146955956396876962006-05-06T17:55:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:18.042-05:00

It's Saturday afternoon, and the second and last production of Inherit the Wind is officially over. We got a standing ovation, just as we did last night, which was a nice touch, particularly as the entire cast was hung over from the cast party last night at the director's house. The party was fun-- particular highlights involved an insane faux-hawked Spaniard explaining in great detail just how

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1146692614345911222006-05-03T17:14:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:17.736-05:00

I'm library-blogging again. I'm supposed to be researching humour in Tolstoy, with specific relevance to courtship, particularly since I'm supposed to discuss this idea eloquently tomorrow at my meeting with my professor, but somehow the draw of the loaner computer ("to do online research") proved too strong. Ah well.A few days ago I interviewed for Response, a phone counseling line for girls

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1146405278100126902006-04-30T09:53:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:17.067-05:00

Hmmm... Sunday is for secrets again, even though Postsecret has yet to update, to my immense annoyance, so...I obsessively moisturise my elbows, even when I'm too lazy to moisturise my legs.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1146028917335473272006-04-26T01:17:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:16.617-05:00

1. Wait until she is writing a paper, preferably on something ludicrous like "Jewish gangsters in 1920s Odessa and their similarities to Biblical strongmen such as Samson."1a. Preferably it should also be somewhere on the BAD side of midnight. And the paper should be due the next day. Less than one page written is good, too. She should be doing such things as blogging and checking email. For, you

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1145538675509969032006-04-20T08:56:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:16.050-05:00

There has been massive construction going on right outside Jon's bedroom window (well, 11 flights down...) all year and it's starting to drive me mad. It was kind of comical when it was winter and there was still nothing really apparent except for little men (from my view, at least) standing around uselessly, poking at things, and kind of vaguel digging away at stuff. Suddenly, with the coming of

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1145478634432888612006-04-19T16:26:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:15.714-05:00

"Hey darling, it's Jon. I'm sitting in the car outside Home Depot and waiting to help you carry the bricks, but I don't see you... Oh wait, I do see you. You appear to be being helped by a friendly worker... but he looks kind of ugly, so that's all good."

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1145453823328510152006-04-19T09:36:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:15.480-05:00

You know I have been thinking about this Russian essay too much when I spell it "kultural" in English.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1145452570097129722006-04-19T08:34:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:15.158-05:00

Jon and I don't talk about our exes, pretty much ever. They tend crop up in conversation when one of mine is doing something annoying/ foists his existence on me, which is the case far more often than one would desire. His come up in conversation when I choose to mock him for his previous predilection for pretty dumb girls (or at least in my mind, that's what they were... I don't care if one of

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1145223971189125612006-04-16T17:45:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:14.887-05:00

Sunday is Postsecret day, so here's a secret of my own:The song "Wild World" makes me tear up a little every time I listen to it.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1144937987947268532006-04-13T10:19:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:14.613-05:00

Dear Jon's suitemates:Flushing the toilet at night? It's really not that hard.Smoochies,Alex

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1144907243968988452006-04-13T01:19:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:14.343-05:00

Jon and I have a Tuesday afternoon movie tradition of sorts. That is, he is taking a class on Sound-Era Cinema, and one of the three weekly screenings is during my massive chunk of free time on Tuesday afternoons, so I tend to go with him. This week, the movie was Ajantrik, an Indian movie about a man and his taxicab.[Jon interjects snippily: You could essentially say the same thing about Taxi

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1144767066822043892006-04-11T10:40:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:14.049-05:00

There are certain problems inherent in doing rushed translations of Russian poetry, especially when I'm drunk. The end result is that I look at what I've written the next morning, and come across phrases like "As if with pain life from the heart is wrenched." Now, this does make sense, if you wrap your head around it, but it would have been amusing to get to class and find that I was supposed to

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1144542147370724722006-04-08T20:19:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:13.794-05:00

I just spent the past two hours watching a Merchant-Ivory movie while eating chocolate, painting my nails, and lovingly knitting a hat for my boyfriend. The estrogen count in the room is far too high.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1144504218679579642006-04-08T09:48:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:13.554-05:00

My friend: [with pride] I'm now getting up early enough that I can steal other people's New York Times!As someone who finally cancelled their subscription after a year of never actually making it to their paper in time, I'm not too sure how I feel about that. If you're so happy about reading the paper, buy your own damn subscription.I also know there are bigger issues than that out there, but

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1144354069749189292006-04-06T16:01:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:12.995-05:00

to suspectsuspicionto arrestarrest (n.)to interrogateinterrogationto convict, to be convictedconvicted (adj.)to exileexile (n.)to sentence to the firing squadsentence (n.)to execute by firing squadexecution by firing squad (ONE WORD!)to suffersufferingto go through an ordealtorment (n.)sympathycompassionprisonlineexilelabor campprisonerThen we have to learn the list of names that the KGB (now

Alexnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1144343839192208032006-04-06T13:01:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:12.634-05:00

I've taken a leaf out of Clay's book and gone rasterbation-mad. The Rasterbator and I have been buds for a while, but I had tragically forgotten about its existence until just today. I made some more, but this was the one that had enough contrast to fit on one sheet in an interesting manner. I tried to rasterise the full photo, but it somehow just wasn't as cool as just the eye shot:I also wanted

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1144200483940840192006-04-04T20:27:00.000-04:002006-11-09T04:18:12.204-05:00

Last night, Jon forced me to watch The Ring. This wouldn't be in any way remarkable, except for the fact that we both loathe horror movies. He's the kind of guy who will call me up three times to remind me to bring Four Weddings and a Funeral when I come over, and I'm the kind of girl who really enjoys not being forced to watch stupid action movies, or movies that make me clutch things. I like

Alexnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1141572747373724852006-03-05T10:20:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:11.470-05:00

In a fit of procrastination while Jon snoozes, I used the Love Poem Generator that Naridu had linked to. I give you the end result:My LoveYour skin glows like the banana, blossoms sweltering as the gardenia in the purest hope of spring.My heart follows your zither voice and leaps like a llama at the whisper of your name.The evening floats in on a great bald eagle wing.I am comforted by your sock

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1141516257232860262006-03-04T18:50:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:11.202-05:00

Writing a paper on a short story is NO FUN when very little has been written about the story itself.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1141351462228781582006-03-02T20:50:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:10.925-05:00

1. Why is the idea of putting vending machines in the library so complicated and impossible. Lamont is open 24 hours a day. This means that there are poor, nutrition-deprived students stuck in there round the clock. Were there, say, a Coke machine where one could obtain ready caffeine in a yummy format, then they would make a TON of money off of it. People bring beverages in there anyway. And if

Alexnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1141249256993571712006-03-01T16:27:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:10.643-05:00

My beloved roommate and I are currently pondering the vagaries of mankind, particularly the male portion. For evidence, I present you an email I sent to Inna this morning, because I'm too lazy to re-write this.I think our boyfriends must be in sweetness collusion or something. I mentioned to Jon that Clay was coming for the weekend, and that I have a paper to write for Monday, along with the

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1141227210451547972006-03-01T10:25:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:10.398-05:00

My face is chapped. Chapped chapped chapped. My right hand is chapped from smoking, though I moisturise frequently and have cut down massively on my smoking. I am sick and tired of flaking and peeling and feeling too tight in my own skin, and running to the bathroom to moisturise and exfoliating (and then having jon's stubble just make the process even more chappy and flaky and painful.) I asked

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1141187282636739522006-02-28T23:22:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:10.088-05:00

Scene: A dorm room. Two girls talk. The subject of time post June 2006 comes up in conversation. Alex gets pissy.Inna: Boston and LA aren't impossible for long distance...Alex: Well, it hasn't even been discussed and we're probably not going to do it, so I don't want to think about it.Inna: My friend and her boyfriend are doing New York- San Francisco....(Alex looks at Inna's friend and her

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1140975663463504932006-02-26T12:24:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:09.754-05:00

I just finished writing an email to my brother Charles' old nanny Jeanni, a delightful Canadian who lived with us for three years. My mother called me up frantically on Friday to tell me that she'd just gotten an email saying that Jeanni has been diagnosed with Hodgkin's Lymphoma, and is starting chemo on Monday. I was to email her and offer my condolences/support.What do you say to someone in a

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1140679478909029112006-02-23T02:20:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:09.468-05:00

[Liza and Alex howl with laughter. Liza is crying from laughing so hard.]Inna: Wait, why are you guys laughing?[Liza and Alex point at screen]Alex: That's Paris Latsis, Paris Hilton's ex-boyfriend. Inna: Who?Alex: Paris Hilton?Inna: I don't even know who that is![Alex and Liza try to explain.]Inna: But why would anybody care about her?[Alex and Liza look at each other]Alex: You know... I have

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1140676351747002032006-02-23T01:22:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:09.135-05:00

According to none other than our very own scientific expert Madam Liza S., using the mysterious scientific method of "write something the fuck down because it's due uhhh yesterday", the Universe is not, as previously conjectured by scientists, somewhere around 15 billion years old, but in actuality 1 times 10 to the 18th power. Now, let's see, what does that look like?1, 000, 000, 000, 000, 000,

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1140673385183915812006-02-23T00:42:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:08.692-05:00

Ass petals! -Inna

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1140630120699179912006-02-22T12:39:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:08.388-05:00

If you were my neighbours would you:A.) Sing that "I'm a big big girl in a big big world" song soulfully and tunelessly, so that it resounds BEAUTIFULLY through the fire door.OR B.) Kill yourself for your lack of taste and vocal ability.It's a tough call, really.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1140621608574833812006-02-22T10:18:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:08.077-05:00

Behold: So bloody beautiful. And it would look so very bizarre on me. Ah well.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1140579284885704112006-02-21T21:52:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:07.784-05:00

After crowing about my TF's flakiness and how my section didn't have to do the special miniproject for my History of Madness classs, I met with her today and discovered a.) she's really sweet but b.) she forgot to tell us about the miniproject last Thursday, and OOPS it's due this Thursday!Although annoying, this isn't all that big of a deal-- just looking at the available literature (mainly

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1140484632221901382006-02-20T19:58:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:07.536-05:00

The Olympics are being held in my hometown, which means I'm supposed to be all excited about them. The sad truth is, beyond forcing Jon to watch the opening ceremonies with me (With intermittent cries of: "Look at the pan of the city! My house would be [points to somewhere four feet off the screen]! Isn't it pretty?!?!?") Jon decided to be nice and sit through the 2 hour show. We did not, however

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1140368514965652052006-02-19T11:48:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:07.174-05:00

Jon's sound asleep in bed, or rather thrashingly asleep in bed-- he just spasmed and said "wuh!" really loudly. I did one of my now-typical pop awake exactly seven and a half hours after I fall asleep things, which meant 11 since I feel asleep at 3:30. It's actually kind of refreshing to be on a regular schedule of sorts, and not lose time sleeping. Much more efficient.Nothing really has been

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1140118644218875472006-02-16T14:35:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:06.845-05:00

You know, there is just something the teensiest bit evil about people from Harvard selling books on Amazon to... people at Harvard, and then STILL charging you shipping, even though they just scrawl a name on the book and drop it into the interhouse mail.With no return address, of course, so I can't hunt them down and demand my five bucks back.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1140064208796540232006-02-15T23:21:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:06.575-05:00

Back from the mini-break, healthy and hearty. We went to Cape Cod, stayed in a delightful cottage, frolicked on the beach, and went to an amazing restaurant for dinner last night. I had elk... yum! Bloody! This morning-- woke up, managed to peel ourselves out of The Most Comfortable Bed on Earth (TM), went over to the main house, had immense delicious hunks of french toast for breakfast (Jon had

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1139941219941425952006-02-14T13:16:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:06.283-05:00

So, in certain circles it's been taken under advisory to not mention the existence of Valentine's Day, but... I just need to cackle gleefully. Skipping around my room, even, if I weren't seated on the futon, typing. In 3 minutes I'm being whisked away to (location as of yet undisclosed) until Wednesday night!!!I'm being whisked away!I tend to file V-Day under the category of "Holidays that

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1137962855972181622006-01-22T15:42:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:05.936-05:00

Q: Given that 2 is a generator in arithmetic modulo 53, how many square roots does it have?A: None! Generators have no square roots!If this is the kind of stuff there's going to be on my math exam tomorrow morning, then I'm royally screwed. Formulas, I can remember. Exciting little tidbits like generators not having square roots-- no chance in hell. This class is called The Magic of Numbers. It

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1136922875388261062006-01-10T14:53:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:05.498-05:00

My mother (discussing my upcoming trip to Trinidad and Tobago): I want you to bring me back some good CDs... and a big spliff.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1136670620223793452006-01-07T16:47:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:05.085-05:00

2:15 in the morning.Friend of Jon's, on cell phone outside the dorm, talking to his girlfriend Amy. He's trashed. We saw him earlier that night, out at a bar. His girlfriend was doing something else.-But there's a shuttle at 2:35-...-Oh! You need space? -...-Alright, that works. See you tomorrow.-...-Love you too.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1136000778167700392005-12-30T22:38:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:04.822-05:00

Inna: So... The moral of the story is... Don't marry for money, because if you wait and marry for love, you'll catch someone richer?

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1135467533542177512005-12-24T18:33:00.000-05:002006-11-09T04:18:04.606-05:00

Happiness is...Pasta with properly made tomato sauce.Good agnolotti.Roasted artichokes.Prosciutto.Foccaccia.Fresh mozzarella.Good tomatoes.Proper pizza. Pandoro with home-made Nutella.I love being home. Unfortunately, however, happiness is also coming back to Boston without the addition of fifty pounds, so we're going to have to work on that. And now... Casablanca on TV, cat on my lap, comfy

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1135118201745828822005-12-20T17:20:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:43.766-05:00

Not to turn this blog into "Ohmigod look at me and my friends aren't we cuuuute?" but here are some of the pictures from the Tri-House Formal this weekend. Here we have myself and Jon. It's a cute picture, I should say, though I look rather squished. You can't see it, but I'm wearing a beautiful black silk halterneck dress. Below-the knee, tight waist and flowing skirt. I rather enjoy it. In fact

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1135025611336869362005-12-19T15:53:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:43.543-05:00

Impossible problem sets are the new black...

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1135008852243506082005-12-19T11:11:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:43.394-05:00

If I always wash off the top of my Nalgene, and only ever put water in there, because of my pathological fear of sugars decomposing into deadly mold-bacteria, why is it that the neck/ top of it always starts smelling nasty? And then why does it arbitrarily stop smelling nasty? Is there some special brush I can get to clean out the threads?

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1135007469729745222005-12-19T10:36:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:43.235-05:00

I woke up in the middle of the night (by which I mean 5 am) with excruciating, stabbing pains in my stomach. I lay there for a little bit, cursing the dawn light that was coming in through the part of the window where Jon managed to pull the curtain down. As I writhed about, trying various variations on the foetal position to spread out the pain somewhat, Jon stirred, muttered something, wrapped

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1134777008984097632005-12-16T18:37:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:43.042-05:00

This school is officially overpopulated with Bulgarians. Today, while hanging out with my friend Boris, also hailing from that fair nation (where my mother was once roped into being the "lovely assistant" in a knife throwing demonstration) we ran in to not one, not two, but SIX of his countrymen! With a school population of 6000, and with Bulgaria being in a way a small and random nation, I must

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1134575175194574782005-12-14T10:36:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:42.875-05:00

Teacher: The man who read the book recently bought the bucket.Student: Bought the bucket?Teacher: Bought the bucket? KICKED the bucket! Bought the farm.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1134430306166748122005-12-12T18:30:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:42.680-05:00

The Repin painting I was talking about:

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1134430146557362682005-12-12T18:00:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:42.485-05:00

Freely lifted / mistranslated from my Russian homework:[talking about Ivan the Terrible] When prince Kurbskii ran from the Russian army in Poland, he wrote a letter to the tsar Ivan the Terrible. In the letter he wrote why to him had appeared the idea to exit the country for England. Kurbskii was a man from the upper class and his letter expressed the view of those among this class that supported

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1134163862115779362005-12-09T16:27:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:42.290-05:00

I'm trying desperately to figure out who I can give these to for Christmas:Find them here.

Alexnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1133995303488554362005-12-07T17:38:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:42.133-05:00

Here below is what my math homework for today looked like on the handout: Tmcqubucubpd Sdcerqbqa 28:Ufd Xcabl ro QmxvdseFrxdirsn 25Ceebaqdg rq Gdldxvds 5Gmd cu 5:00 w.x. Gdldxvds 7Wydced emvxbu wsrvydx edue ur ufd vrhde rmuebgd ufd Xcuf Gdwcsuxdqu’excbq roobld, rq ufd ufbsg oyrrs ro ufd Elbdqld Ldquds (Srrx 325).Sdcgbqa:Asree-Fcssbe, Lfcwuds 21Wsrvydx:Wydced dhwycbq jrms sdcerqbqa cqg efri jrms

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1133916679195010072005-12-06T19:50:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:41.992-05:00

Boris, running up the library, 45 minutes late for a Russian study session: "I'm sorry I'm late. I was in office hours, and my TF wants to fuck me."

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1133916567509453752005-12-06T19:19:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:41.792-05:00

So, I'm bumming around my room, listening to Houses of the Holy instead of studying for my Russian test like the conscientious student I aspire to be, and I've come to the startling realisation that all Led Zeppelin songs sound pretty much the same to me.There are, of course, discernible songs in their oeuvre (and yes, unfortunately, "Kashmir" makes me think of P. Diddy just a little... I hate

Alexnoreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1133750548636279532005-12-05T18:15:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:41.380-05:00

These two pictures were taken a few nights after my friend Chris' birthday. Jon and I decided he needed presents (as he is, after all, the one who introduced us) and so to the vintage store we went.Chris is possessed of a black leather hat that was edgy when he first acquired it, but after long exposure to time and the elements, it has assumed the delicate appearance of a piece of jerky. He is

Alexnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4116212.post-1133801609802716502005-12-05T11:42:00.000-05:002006-11-09T03:34:41.522-05:00

I have developed breasts all of a sudden. I truly don't understand the provenance of this phenomenon. All the females in my family are flat as boards-- I've always been the busty one with my meager B, but now, with these new-sprouted oranges, I suddenly look like I've gotten implants when standing next to my mother or my cousins. Double Js, I tell you. These can have no earthly provenance--

Alexnoreply@blogger.com3