Tonight's post canceled. Refund at door.

I had a couple posts ready to go up today/tonight, but I'm putting them off until tomorrow or Wednesday (we'll see) in favor of asking everyone to remember Melissa (who has to go to her specialist back home tomorrow, she's so sick) and Megan (who's thing I don't know most of the details to, so I won't go into it) in your prayers this week. Thanks in advance.

(Pretend I posted this Thursday. Thanks.)

It's getting to the point where people just can't find me on Tuesday and Thursday. It used to be simple: I only have one morning class, so I'd sit in my room and work on homework, blogging, etc, between waking up, class, and the afternoon rush. This was awful convenient the first couple of weeks, especially with tests.

Then my scholarship had to screw all that up.

Starting this year, students with my scholarship were given the option of skipping out on scholarship hours (5 hours of unpaid work for the university per week) in favor of a community service/mentoring sort of thing. Naturally, most of the group jumped at the opportunity (whether for the resume boost or fewere required hours, I won't debate) and several places around the community were asked for their assistance. Myself and two friends attached ourselves to the high school drama department, remember with fondness our own high school theatre experiences. We met the teacher, volunteered for her third hour drama class, and left with giddy excitement of putting our TSU acting classes to use.

[This, for those keeping track, is where things turn for the worse.]

Not ten hours after we returned to the dorm, Megan (one of the "two friends" mentioned above) realized she had a class smack in the middle of the high school drama hour. Obviously, she couldn't skip every single time, so we had to pick a new time (mostly because there was no way I was going to teach a group of high schoolers all by myself, thanks).

So, now we're teaching speech (a class Meredith [the second friend] and myself are just now taking), two hours every Tuesday and Thursday, which basically means we're making crap up as we go along. The teacher doesn't really give us guidelines for what she wants us to teach each class, though I don't think she has any better idea what us scholarship people are supposed to be doing than we do. (Yay for guinea pig-ing it!) It also means I'm never around those days because I hope from high school to class to high school to class, class, supper. God be with me the next time I have a theatre test and want to manically study all through the high school kids' speech presentations.

And, please please please offer any ideas/suggestions/mockings you can think of to help us out. There are only so many theatre games that interlock with the basics of the speech canons. (And these people don't like Bunny Bunny, so all is lost in the game field anyway.)

How did duct tape become so stuck on me?

Instead of continuing my morning o' productivity, I chose to squander my afternoon down the hall in 308, my standard "if Hannah's not in her room, she's probably here" spot. However, you could probably call us productive in a different, non-academic way, since we were working on costumes for the King Arthur video (I'm not linking to something that is two posts before this one, scroll).

To simplify, we made duct tape armor.

I think most of us had wanted to make duct tape armor ever since Melissa first brought it up the same night we played "Duck Duck Goose" on the quad, but we didn't have a real reason (beyond spiffy Halloween costumes, of course)....until that whole medieval setting thing popped up. Sure, we could *buy* hard plastic breastplates from Wal-Mart, but wouldn't it be more fun to do it ourselves?

My pictures from this better turn out (not just because I've already had a couple of requests for the doubles), and I'll be sure to show them off if they do. We helpfully volunteered the only armor-wearing guy in the film here on campus this weekend to be the guinea pig and basically made him stand still for an hour while he was wrapped in duct tape by everyone else in the room (minus two people for scissors and picture taking).

I won't go into the long process of making Ben stand still while others tried to angle tape around him. That's the sort of hilarious thing you had to be there for (and I can't remember enough of the quotes to try and accurately reproduce it.) In the end, things turned out quite better than I would've thought. The final product was covered with black duct tape (he's the evil one, por supuesto) with a metallic silver outline and is only missing the black leather ties that will hold the sides together. The rest of us also ended up with a smattering of bracelets, arm bands, and rings (and one toe crown - and thus one whole toe monarchy, but I digress) to wear around the dorm. Oh, and we have to make three more of these things.

Perhaps the Lady of the Lake has a swimming suit made out of duct tape....?

Just a bad combo no matter how you picture it

The network must be moving slow today. I had enough time to translate (as much as possible) that last post into Spanish.

I also must be really tired if that's what I chose to pass the time.

Although I'd fight you over it later

Someone needs to forbid me from Ebay so, in the future, I don't spend two hours after midnight looking at vintage black dress shoes. And Grace Kelly-style purses. And feather boas. Please, someone save me from the accessories at two in the morning.

So, I may not be a Dead Roman...

...but I still get a part in the next video class project by the same people, the darling and wonderful Meredith and Annie. This time around, it's the legend of King Arthur, and yours truly gets the role of The Lady of the Lake. I get to film at a pool. With my own cabana boy and giant fan. And my Valley Girl "dialect."

I am, like, so totally thrilled already!

"Helium!"

You probably have to know him and his dark and dreary works, but I'm ever so glad my Hist and Lit class introduced me to this, Strindberg and Helium. Basically, it's tiny adventures in the life of August Strindberg, author of "A Dream Play" and "Miss Julie," and his friend, Helium. Yes, Helium. Enjoy.

Just because you have a right to know.

There are shoes on my ceiling.

Yes, they match the glow-in-the-dark sheep quite nicely, thanks.

Blogging canceled on account of eBay addiction

Is it sad that I really, really, really want this?

A question for the logic department:

Can you impulse buy Hot Pockets, or are you just planning *way* ahead?

It's like my version of the nails on the chalkboard

I know it sounds so "Anne of Green Gables"-ish to say this, but I HATE it when people leave the "h" off the end of my name. Especially when it's done by someone who I generally like and respect and whatnot, because then I just grow all ticked at them for forgetting how to spell the name I've had for the past nineteen years. It's not like it's hard to spell something when my name is there on the confounded email! Good golly!

(I'm done mini-ranting for now. Thanks for the moment.)

*Especially* if everyone joined in!

I'd enjoy stats a lot more if I could spontaneously break into the marching band's "Boring" chant (which is basically just saying the word boring really dragged out) any moment I felt the need instead of just singing it in my head.

How's that for checking off the To-Do List?

In the course of an afternoon (today, naturally), I...

* ...bid on something on Ebay and for the first time in a long time and won for the first time ever.

* ...vacuumed the carpet because it was so much better than doing stats homework.

* ...did my stats homework.

* ...volunteered to work at the box office for the first place (and probably rest of the year, though I'm not sure on that one yet).

* ...balanced my checkbook.

* ...watched too much Family Guy and--in the process--both missed the Emmys and became Ryle 340's secretary.

* ...gained an amusing anecdote about the trunk of a friend's car that I can't relate without bursting into giggles.

It's *sorta* like Stats

I left the "Family Guy" viewing to work on homework before pulling out laundry in about ten minutes, yet--since I'd been meaning to take the survey since Caleb stuck it on his site, so here shows how I'm screwed up in life (insight? I actually wasn't all that surprised with the results)

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid:	Low
Schizoid:	Moderate
Schizotypal:	Moderate
Antisocial:	Low
Borderline:	Low
Histrionic:	High
Narcissistic:	Moderate
Avoidant:	Low
Dependent:	Low
Obsessive-Compulsive:	High
-- Personality Disorder Test - Take It! --

For some reason, this helps.

Just got back from OP and the cast/crew lists: [drumroll nixed on count of budget] I'm on the props crew, which should be fun since I haven't done much in that side before. That, and I won't spend nearly all my evenings working on a play and not doing homework. Yes, I'm a little bummed (I still need to work on that whole "getting attached to a part and not receiving it" thing), but still fine. I'm just kinda glad that I went when I did and didn't wait for other people I know to go and come back and tell me by mistake because they didn't know how much I hate hearing about what I got through other sources than directly off the list. I apologize for that sentence, but I don't feel like fixing it.

Some group is sponsering a Mel Brooks double feature (Blazing Saddles and Robin Hood) in the small auditorium space, so I may grab a book, a couple friends, and save prime seats. Or do homework.

(Don't hold out much hope for the homework.)

Dang you, Earl!

They're not up yet!

(Though, y'all realize I wouldn't even be awake to know if it wasn't for band)

Screw the Wheaties! I've suddenly decided popcorn (especially when it's the real, not make in a microwave with just enough salt to be too much) is the most delicious form of breakfast, after cold pizza.

(Well, at least I'm eating all my meals, right Mom?)

Update on Callbacks (because I'm just obsessing now)

I was actually on my way to bed, but I was just ever so helpfully reminded that the cast and crew list would be posted in "just nine hours!" (yeah, thanks, Ben), so now I'm just going to bore you with more details.

Callbacks actually went rather well: I got to read five or six times, twice with rather good lines. The thing that is throwing me is that I read the same part (Lisbeth, if you're wondering) all but once, which would normally set off big buzzers of "congrats," but the director really didn't have much variety in doling out of her parts. Probably the biggest thing going for me is, ironically, my stick arms, because another character makes a comment about Lisbeth's "pipecleaner" arms.

However, there were 18 people at callbacks for only 6 roles (you can figure the odds), so I'm optimistic about crew. We'll see what happens.

"Nobody puts Baby in the corner." *

That thrill of being onstage? It's even better when it leads to your name on the callback list (and that leads to running into two of your favorite theatre people, one of which you hadn't even seen yet this year). Granted, that also leads to missing out on part of the "Drive-In" movie night out at the park, but I believe I can deal with missing Jim Carrey play God.

(* Yeah, I know that quote has nothing to do with callbacks, having them or otherwise....but it was the first thing that popped into mind whenever I considered the title, and I found it so funny it stuck. Deal.)

Later that evening...

No, my paper isn't finished and I haven't actually finished most of the stuff I planned for tonight yet, but I feel so much better about myself after going and auditioning for the lab show (even though I didn't know about auditions until today, apx. three hours before the actual auditions occurred), no matter if I make it to callbacks or the actual show or anything at all. I guess the theatre major's just trying to say that it's nice to get back up on the stage after awhile.

Mom, you might want to skip this post.

*RAMBLE ALERT!*

I don't think I've suddenly hated a class with such sudden passion and despisement (which isn't really a word, and I know that) since Mr. Stupid Coleman's "honors" English class when we watched Anne of Green Gables and played with video equipment and didn't learn anything productive. That's how I feel about Lit Theory. I understand there are different ways to look at texts and different critical theories to apply to those texts and these are important to someone, but they aren't to me. If I'm reading something, I don't want to categorize how I feel about it into, "oh, that's a psychological approach....you need to take it with a feminist view." I just want to read a story, draw my own conclusions, and move on with life. I guess that makes me a bad English major (bad girl, bad!) but I don't care too awful much. I want to completely blow off this paper, this next class, this entire course and I already know I wouldn't have all that much guilt about doing so. Yes, I put off this paper. It's partially my fault that I'm screwed or stuck or both or whatever.....but I know I'm not the only one who feels the same way about the class. And it's all the things about high school English classes I despised and thought I was moving away from once I got to college, yet now they're all piled together into one semester that I have to pass to keep my major because it's so incredibly beyond required that I have this and I just hate the English department for forcing this on me AND making it writing enhanced. Hate them hate them HATE THEM for it, especially since I can write all this tripe better than I can even come up with an idea for my paper.

End rant. For now.

Thank the Lord!

I, Hannah, hereby *finally* announce we are officially HALF-WAY through the giant week of horrible homework and test icky-ness. Yay! (And, no, I still haven't started my Lit paper for Friday....but we're covering "Sure Thing," a play I know too increadibly well (Thank you, One-Acts!), and we may even watch a vid of the show in class on Friday, when I'll be too busy thinking "That's me with the bell!" to actually pay attention, so I'm nothing thinking about that yet.)

In celebration of the middle mark, I offer a snippet of song from the charming freshmen across the hall (you'll have to imagine the guitar in for yourself):

If you want fine dining,
come to Kirksville!
We've got Taco Bell!

Who knew I was actually right all along?

It's the end of an era: I finally know who Adam is.

Allow me to explain.

A few days into the first week of college, I woke up and found a message on my dry erase board of "It's Adam...Remember me?" Of course, with the amount of crazy freshmen guys introducing themselves to Melissa and myself, I couldn't keep up with all of them. Melissa and I decided that, in lieu of homework, we'd go on an Adam search and find the mysterious message leaver.

The four person room around the corner has the unique feature of housing three guys named Dan (it's own special peculiarity), as well as one guy named Adam. We asked him first [he was the only Adam I knew of, at the time], yet he looked at us like we'd spewed obscenities on his grandmother's doorstep. We moved on.

Later that night, Melissa (while on the phone with her mother, no less) remembered another Adam: a friend's suitemate. Naturally, we ran up as fast as we could....only to discover he also had no clue what we were talking about (though he took it in stride - Adam's a cool dude). This actually led to an abandonment of the Adam Quest, as we spent the rest of the night talking to him and his friends and eating really great brownies from a girl on my floor. This Adam is actually now "Fake Adam" to our group, just from all this.

So, the "It's Adam....Remember me?" message became a big joke in our circle of friends, with many variations since (most people use that as their standard greeting on our board, though I still love the handwriting sample we gave Fake Adam that first night best). I hadn't given the first, "real" Adam much thought since--until tonight.

I went down the hall to throw out recyclables and, naturally, spent the walk reading people's message boards. I got to the big barrels for cans, turned around, and saw on the Three Dans and Adam board: "Adam- Don't forget math! [heart]- Hannah."

Eureka! I couldn't believe it! We'd had the right Adam all along, he'd just had the way wrong Hannah. Naturally, he'd look at me like I'd spewed obscenities on his grandmother's doorstep: I wasn't the right Hannah. So, while it's great to finally know who the "real" Adam was, and prove that I was right, it's a little sad to have a little less mystery in my life.

That is, until I start passing the "It's Adam..." along to someone else. Watch out, Dobson!

We interrupt tonight's reading of "Hedda Gabler" to bring you this important news flash!

Screech is coming to Truman!

(Side note: I so like tonight's title more than the actual post, but, hey--you gotta share what you gotta share.)

News from the Front

GOOD LORD, MY HEAD IS SPEWING 19TH CENTURY THEATRE NAMES OUT MY EARS!!

If I say it now, I'm covered later.

Just a word of warning to y'all...just looking at my calendar for the next week makes me feel stressed, so I can only imagine how I'll feel actually going through it. If I'm not posting this week, rest assured I'm not skipping out on all y'all to watch movies and be tickled senseless. Just picture me hunched over in a corner of the library, sneaking food from the SUB out of my backpack because I don't have time to actually eat meals.

Pleasant, no? We'll see if I still love college come next Sunday.

You should be in pictures!

The sky is much too blue today. Think of one of the movies when you've thought to yourself: "That sky has to be fake; it's way too blue." That's how blue the Kirksville sky is today. I'd rather run around and blow bubbles on the quad than sit in the Dobson computer lab (Ryle's was full) and print off Stats homework, and that's not even the seven-year-old talking. I guess that's what I get for doing other non-homework projects all weekend instead of academic crap. I *also* guess that's what I get for thinking the weather report would actually come true and it would rain all day again today.

Somewhere my mother's thinking, "I could've told you that!"

If I spent less time doing the "Tickle and a Movie" thing down in Krista and Meredith's room and more time sleeping or even studying stats, I'd probably be a lot better off.

Though not half as amused. I think things even out.

And she's a leader on the *national* level...

Amazingly, the highlight of the (ahem, allow me to be all official) National Society of Collegiate Scholars, Plus Hannah's Friends Who Mocked the Gathering induction Convocation was *not* the leaving at the very end, much as I'd figured before actually arriving, but the guest speaker. I don't remember her name, but, between acting like a giant commercial for the NSCS website, she managed to call us the University of Minnesota (Hello! We're Truman!) five times. Everyone thought it was a mistake the first time, but it just became sad by the time she used the wrong college name three times in one sentence.

Oh, the memories!

"Bless you." Is that so hard?!?

What is it with people not saying "bless you" anymore when those around them sneeze? Has everyone decided upon Jason Fox's philosophy that we shouldn't bless people throwing around germs and secretly curse me in their heads every time I can't hold the sniffles in anymore? It's not like I'm sneezing all over the back of your neck! It's just common courtesy, people!

(Man, I wish I had a link to that Foxtrot comic.)

If I filled my entire nose with Flonase, it wouldn't be enough

Somewhere, something in Kirksville has thrown my nose out of whack.

For the past few days, I've been sneezing, blowing my nose, and feeling somewhat miserable. I have a small supply of allergy medicing in my room, but I'd hoped they'd be like my spare glasses: never actually used, yet reassuring to keep around just in case. I did the same thing last year, yet never felt stuffed up like today.

I don't want to call this "allergies." My junior year, I spent a fair amount of the spring stuffed up and generally miserable, though I didn't do anything about it until I lost my voice a few days before music contest (and two weeks before the spring play). My friendly doctor diagnosed me with allergies, though he never said exactly what they might be. It didn't matter to him. I apparently had the classic allergy nose: you could "cut it off and stick it in a textbook for people to memorize." (He seriously said that.) Truthfully, the cough medicing I received in addition to my allergy perscriptions (a combination of once daily Clariting and "stick it up your nose and squeeze" Flonase) helped more than the other two combined. So, once the giant cough cleared up, I stopped taking the allergy medicine.

I haven't taken it on a regular basis ever since.

Sure, I've had times when I'd take pills for a week if I felt something coming on (like all of March for contest the next year), or I'd occassionally use a squirt of Flonase to help clear up a cold. Yet, I haven't felt all allergy-ish like this since I was first told I had them (though I still maintain I had a cold and my doc was delusional).

I don't want my theory proven wrong. One of my biggest accomplishments in life was that I escaped my genetics without allergies of any kind. I'd really love it if I didn't suddenly lose that to a pile of gross Kleenex.

Somewhere, the "Mission: Impossible" theme plays quietly

Operation: Pteyrdactyl is go!

(No, I can't tell you what that means. But isn't it nice just to know it exists and makes me happy?)

(Yes, I also know I can't spell. I'd try harder, but I have to go to class now. Deal.)

But, it's so...so pretty!

Hannah's Should-Be-A-Rule # (well, whatever): Never go to Wal-Mart on Tuesday, New DVD Release Day. Especially when it involves one of the great classics of the Disney movie animated dynasty (aka, today's release "Sleeping Beauty." Which I now own. Of course.)

I feel.....huh

Why is it that the wrong person always seems to say the right thing just when I need it and make me feel all better, but then have their being the "wrong person" make me feel all conflicted about finally feeling good again?

Okay, maybe this doesn't happen always, but that's moot.

Ugh. I'm sleepy, I still have to study for Spanish, and now I'm all ugh-y (yet vague).

Bleck.

Ay, Caramba

I've come to the sincere conclusion that my life is much too complicated for its own good. If only I could leave college, start over a brand new life with a fake accent somewhere in Mongolia, and work at the local Wal-Mart. Of course, that would required explaining to my parents (and other assorted family and friends) why I was leaving college, having the Sullivan Wal-Mart send references over to Asia, actually *getting* to Asia (and Mongolia), so now I need a passport and whatever the Mongolians use for cash. And probably a yak. And a whole new language. But defintely a yak.

Even my plans to simplify my life are too complicated.

It's time [again] for...Good Idea/Bad Idea

Good Idea: Watching a "Trading Spaces" marathon while a tall person puts up your glow-in-the-dark sheep on the ceiling for you, then deciding to walk around campus close to midnight and play "Duck Duck Goose" (after playing in the street) around the eternal flame that is never actually lit until 1:30 a.m.

Bad Idea: Holding open the door for everyone upon returning to the dorm and slamming the bottom edge over your foot, causing so much agony you almost pass out on the stairs up to your room.

Moral? Forget being polite and stick with being childish. Your toes will thank you.

Dang viruses

Somewhere between writing a post and pressing the "publish" button the network crashed yesterday, which is why I'm about to have a post that is a day off (and probably no longer as witty as the first time I wrote it) and frantically look-up Spanish vocab to finish my poster project due this afternoon.

No, there was no reason for this particular post. Deal.

[Later Edit: It was down because of air conditioning?!? Who needs a/c in Kirksville in September? (Besides, apparently, the happy little computers)

Oh, I believe in Yesterday

Thursday by bullets:

* spending the entire day in a fog about time because I lost my watch the day before; classes went faster than normal

* had more movie endings ruined for me by the inconsiderate people in my speech class

* found out my speech teacher thinks I--who flails her arms like an idiot during even normal speech, let alone when she's nervous--need more movement during my speeches

* learned my theatre lit professor, Dana, once had a frightening run-in with the Klan (yes, that one) down in a swamp with the rest of her cast (including, as she put it, "one poor black guy")...though I don't have any more details because she promptly changed the subject

* Dana is the coolest theatre professor ever

* studied literary theory to "In A Gadda Da Vidda" (of course the long version)

* watched "Fight Club," one of the movies ruined by my speech club

* helped introduce another twisted soul to Strong Bad's email

* discovered, while I suck at Pac-Man, I kinda rock at Snake (at least, when compared to Meredith)

Just a tiny public service announcement:

The newest Lemony Snicket book comes out at the end of the month! Happiness arrives the 23rd!

There's also one in Brooklyn

We're only two weeks in, but I've still had moments when I've missed Dobson, my lovely quirky dorm from last year. My freshman year I found no better way to fall asleep than listening to the incoming student's voices echo in the courtyard. I loved seeing how many lights were on while others frantically typed papers, like myself. Even when it seemed Debbie was trying to ignore my very existance, I never felt alone during the evenings will the rest of the DOB out my window.

Ryle is bigger than Dobson. Much much MUCH bigger. I look out my window and see, not other students desperately trying to procrastinate, but the perpetually lit windows of the main lounge. After 10:30, students have to enter the building through the back, so I can't listen to the smokers joke and laugh as I drift off. Sure, I might hear the occassional passing in the hallway, but it's not at all like last year.

However, I have a tree.

This tree obviously isn't mine personally. If I was in charge of its well-being, it'd probably die in a week (though I didn't kill the foster plants....which I only mention to discover I never posted about them in the first place because that was when the network was down. I sense a second Vintage Toast. Anyway.). But, it is right outside my window, and--if the hole in my screen were bigger--I could touch it easily. Instead of falling asleep to people, I wake up to birds and (even better) squirrels. I might miss my reaffirming "Place in this World/Never Alone" (and any other song titles you can think up that talk about connection...ooh! "Rainbow Connection!") evenings, but it's awful spiffy to wake up like Cinderella.

Only 15 more days...

My right ear is itchy, my left was bleeding earlier (yes, in relation to before), I have approximately ten million tiny bugs swarming around my lamp and computer due to the lack of light elsewhere, and I have to get up early tomorrow, so I really should go to bed.....but who would want to when they had this?

Pop-Rocks all around!

Yay! My brother isn't dead!

You can't just ignore opportunities!

It's just like that free pizza last night: whenever you see an opportunity to send crazy catalogs to your friends, why pass it up?

Think my stat prof will go for that if I never finish my homework because I'm sending guys I know wedding catalogs? I live in hope.

Where else will I brag about pointless stuff?

It's been an entire week since I moved in (and then some), so I should probably just consider it a moot point, but I still find it awful fantabulous that I had the exact number of hangers needed for all the clothes I brought.