A lexicographic error is an inaccurate entry in a dictionary.
Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Monday, January 10, 2005
Thursday, January 06, 2005
21 more days to go. I've already had 17 days of vacation. I don't know if I can stand any more vacation. I get so antsy to go back to Amherst that I can't even relax watching television. I can't wait to live off campus so that I can stay in Amherst as long as I like. Imagine it, in the begining of this semester I hated Amherst. Although now I'm understanding the beauty and uniqueness of it. When I first saw the Hill Country in Texas, I hated it too. But I think everyone melts away their dislike for the landscape after their first March. (Bluebonnet season) Now I'm stuck here in Hamden, without a car/good bus system in the winter and with very few friends. If anyone has any ideas of what to do with myself please let me know.
I spent New Years weekend with Murph. It was great. And I have to brag that my boyfriend made me dinner everynight, and he's a great cook, even if he is a vegetarian.*
I checked out a lot of books to read. Although one of them turned out to be about white supremecy. I also checked out The Phantom Tollbooth and a book about Phi (Golden Mean). At some point I have to analyse the prices for Earthfoods and paint the walls. I should do that, just to ward of insanity. I have all these things on my To Do list, but when I wake up at 11am, I don't feel like doing any of them. Then by evening I get bored, but I'm too settled to do anything about it. Vicious cycle.
This journal feels more like a press release than a diary. Because I know anything that I write down is probably going to haunt me later.
I almost wish insanity was kicking in, because that sounds a lot more fun than this. Like directing traffic with a scuba diving mask and a ping pong paddle. (Benny and Joon refrence) Perhaps I'll just write a twenty page journal entry. Oh wait, I've never written twenty pages in my life.
I really don't want to paint my beautiful walls. Sure they're wierd looking, but they're mine.
I found this while mulling through the internet:
Je suis petite. C'est ce qu'ils disent tous. Trop petite pour leur monde de géants.Ils disent que je suis un bébé dans un corps de femme, que jamais je ne changerai dedans, et que plus mon corps devient fort, plus il y a de l'espace dans ma tête, de l'espace vide, inutile, que je ne peux pas remplir avec leurs histoires de grands. Moi je me sens énorme dedans. Forte à soulever des montagnes, à souffler sur les nuages pour éclairer le ciel. Immense à prendre le monde entier dans mes deux mains pour le caresser, le rendre gentil, panser les blessures des forêts mutilées, boire les rivières souillées de notre ingratitude. http://pages.zdnet.com/maxarno/rouscaille-stories/id55.html
Which translates to:
I am small. This says it all. Too small for their world of giants. They say that I am a baby in a woman's body, that never I will not change inside, and that the stronger my body becomes, the more there is space in my head, of empty space, useless, that I cannot fill with their large stories. Me I feel enormous inside. Strong enough to raise mountains, to blow on the clouds to light the sky. Immense to take the whole world in my two hands to cherish it, make it nice, bandage the wounds of the mutilated forests, to drink the soiled rivers of our ingratitude.
*You know I love those vegetarians.
Maybe if I do all the things on my To Do list, then I can feel free to go insane. Then I could make forts and attack the kitchen table, sing songs that I made up, and glue macaroni to my hair.
I spent New Years weekend with Murph. It was great. And I have to brag that my boyfriend made me dinner everynight, and he's a great cook, even if he is a vegetarian.*
I checked out a lot of books to read. Although one of them turned out to be about white supremecy. I also checked out The Phantom Tollbooth and a book about Phi (Golden Mean). At some point I have to analyse the prices for Earthfoods and paint the walls. I should do that, just to ward of insanity. I have all these things on my To Do list, but when I wake up at 11am, I don't feel like doing any of them. Then by evening I get bored, but I'm too settled to do anything about it. Vicious cycle.
This journal feels more like a press release than a diary. Because I know anything that I write down is probably going to haunt me later.
I almost wish insanity was kicking in, because that sounds a lot more fun than this. Like directing traffic with a scuba diving mask and a ping pong paddle. (Benny and Joon refrence) Perhaps I'll just write a twenty page journal entry. Oh wait, I've never written twenty pages in my life.
I really don't want to paint my beautiful walls. Sure they're wierd looking, but they're mine.
I found this while mulling through the internet:
Je suis petite. C'est ce qu'ils disent tous. Trop petite pour leur monde de géants.Ils disent que je suis un bébé dans un corps de femme, que jamais je ne changerai dedans, et que plus mon corps devient fort, plus il y a de l'espace dans ma tête, de l'espace vide, inutile, que je ne peux pas remplir avec leurs histoires de grands. Moi je me sens énorme dedans. Forte à soulever des montagnes, à souffler sur les nuages pour éclairer le ciel. Immense à prendre le monde entier dans mes deux mains pour le caresser, le rendre gentil, panser les blessures des forêts mutilées, boire les rivières souillées de notre ingratitude. http://pages.zdnet.com/maxarno/rouscaille-stories/id55.html
Which translates to:
I am small. This says it all. Too small for their world of giants. They say that I am a baby in a woman's body, that never I will not change inside, and that the stronger my body becomes, the more there is space in my head, of empty space, useless, that I cannot fill with their large stories. Me I feel enormous inside. Strong enough to raise mountains, to blow on the clouds to light the sky. Immense to take the whole world in my two hands to cherish it, make it nice, bandage the wounds of the mutilated forests, to drink the soiled rivers of our ingratitude.
*You know I love those vegetarians.
Maybe if I do all the things on my To Do list, then I can feel free to go insane. Then I could make forts and attack the kitchen table, sing songs that I made up, and glue macaroni to my hair.
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