Beautiful Madness

At first, I was freezing to death in this library...

Now I'm suffocating to death.

Ahhhh. When will this thesis finally be over? I wish to frolic in the sun like a young, nubile girl, coming of age.

Now I know too much and let me tell you, there is bliss in ignorance.

Engulfed in my work, everything that was a problem yesterday seems like the problems of a million years ago.

In the end, nothing really matters.

You know what I find very strange and a little bit irritating?

When people misspell names on wallposts on facebook. As in, Person A wishes to write on Person B's wall and can not manage to spell "Person B" even though his/her name is likely in its full incarnation just a couple of centimeters up the page. That's like me, right now, saying "Hey Persin B! Persin B, where have you been??"

I mean, that is not a typo. What gives??

These are the things I think about while I'm supposed to be writing a paper.

Also, lately I've been missing Canada a lot... but not the Canada that I know, strangely enough. I miss camp fires and chilling by the lake, and drinking beer, playing cards, shooting the shit, driving to strange places - possibly nowhere.

My memories have somehow created a hardcore simulacrum.

I'm sure I'll get over it.

I love living in the international student community.

Asking, "Have you been to Rome?" is likened to something like "Have you been to that McDonald's on the corner of _____ and _____?"

Amazing.

Reading psychoanalysis at 2 in the morning is not fun.

...especially when I have a crap Brandy ("What about us?") song stuck in my head at the same time. How is that even possible??

I have been reading this damn Pynchon book for god knows how long now.
And now I'm almost done but realise how little of it I actually understand.
Stupid post-modern literature.

Anyone else my list into Euro2008?
Hup Holland Hup!

A bunch of us cultural analysts rode to the beach (TWO HOURS... one way!!) and I just found our beach reading material so typically pretentious, yet hilarious and so appropriate for who we are.

Inga: Kafka (in German)
Nathan: Badiou and Deleuze
Myself: Pynchon

No wonder I feel so inadequate amongst these people.

I know a man who will spend his life repairing and preserving old films.
It might just be the most romantic thing I've ever heard.

More "please pity me" posts from yours truly:

Last weekend I got into two... TWO bike accidents. The first: I hit a car, gave the driver the finger, and banged my knee on my handlebars. I got the photography museum and was in kind of a lot of pain. That night, though, was super productive: ended up cleaning and all this mundane jazz. The area swelled a little bit but it was otherwise okay. When I woke up, it seemed to be fine. That was Saturday.

On Sunday, I was riding along... it was raining pretty hard (as it usually is here in Amsterdam, but anyway...). Suddenly (seriously, in all definitions of "suddenly" without any exaggeration), I see this bike wheel in front of me. I have absolutely no time to stop, so I run into it, and the bike handles somehow end up wrapped around my waist, they scrape along the same knee I injured the day before, but I still ended up coming to a pretty normal stop a few metres down. A massive bruise has emerged on top of the knee, extending onto some of my thigh. Good times.

As gross as the bruise looks, it hasn't really been hurting me.

UNTIL NOW!
WTF. Seriously, sitting at my desk and it feels like someone has got a clamp on my knee and is squeezing tight. Egads.

Isn't it strange how, on some days, every single song you listen to somehow "speaks" to you? Or rather, you actually listen to the lyrics and then decide "God, that's exactly what I feel."

I'm not a huge fan of the sensation.

......soooo screwed for this paper.
Ever get that feeling when you're writing about something and halfway through you don't remember or know what you were talking about? Yeah, I'm there. And so sleepy.

I know I always say this but I think I may have trumped myself in the worst paper I have ever written. Seriously, makes no coherent sense. I'll be surprised if my prof doesn't ask me to redo it because I've failed.

Hmm...
I've been watching Gossip Girl and the main character's name really bothers me:
Serena van der Woodsen.
Linguistically, it seems Dutch. But Woodsen? What is that, Scandinavian? So weird.

Hey, someone please shoot me!
I have this massive paper due on Monday.
I thought it was 10 pages.
It's actually 15.
My mind feels so cloudy and I'm having a hard time piecing together thoughts.

AGGH!!!!!

...if I read another word of critical theory, my mind may actually explode.
...if I eat another Oreo, my stomach may actually explode.

Happy new year?

New soil samples prove the Arctic is ours: Russia

The notion that the Arctic is Russia's implies that nations are there a priori to human demarcations of land. What a load of bullcrap, Russia.

Lately I've been trying to be more articulate to no avail. Then I listen to a great song and things suddenly seem to gain a sheen that is simultaneously shinier and dirtier than before.

The irony about listening to great music is that it's absolutely impossible to properly express its effects on a person. Obviously, this is because the whole musical experience is a very personal one; so personal that the individual listening hardly has a chance to understand it him/herself. Being a verbal and linguistic person by nature, I keep attempting to describe the way a good song can soak into your bones so that it stops being a song and instead, becomes something ethereal - tangible, but elusive, and real, but metaphysical.

Instead, I come up with shit like that, and it's all cliches because I haven't found the words that can fill in the gaps that notes somehow occupy so perfectly.

Perhaps this is simply a testament to my incredibly masochist nature, but there's a group on facebook, "Bird Courses at York" (whose moderator has been shilling to everyone and anyone who allows him to post), that really bothers me.

Really, all the group does is perpetuate the idea that York students are mainly at the school for the sheer purpose of getting a degree in a manner that is least challenging. Doesn't a challenge mean anything to anyone? What's the point in getting a degree if it's an easy thing? No wonder the B.A./B.Sc./B.anything (except maybe a B.Com. or BBA, but that's another issue) has been devalued... any old joe with the financial resources (that's what it comes down to, sadly) can get one.

Isn't the point of going to school to... I don't know, LEARN SOMETHING? If it's a bird course, that usually means that little learning is in store. Why would I waste my money and time on something that requires little to no effort? I call this a load of bullshit.

Hm.

As much as pooh-poohed the show, the 4th season was actually quite entertaining and enjoyable.

Third season was still pretty shit, though.

I'm suffering from a severe lack of inspiration on all fronts.

All I want to do is drink and smoke and do all sorts of things that I've been too guilty to do during the school year.

Soon it will be over.

I just have to keep telling myself this.

Spring can be so lonely.

Who the hell am I kidding? Every season is lonely.