Kronikle, Vol. 4, Issue 3: Physical Manipulations and a Gaping Maw
Greetings from the professor's Golgotha!
My roommate seems to prefer an earlier bedtime than I recall from last year. It's cramping my style. In bed by 10? When has that ever, ever happened? And I STILL fall asleep while grading essays. Seems a little pointless to me.
Today I hit the point where I read the same misinformation so many times that I start to wonder if I'm right or if I am misremembering my history (this place and process does some freaky things to a person's mind). For example, were women during the Progressive era ardent supporters of African-American rights? I seem to recall white women turned on African-Americans during the period 1880-1920, limiting their support of blacks to the wholly insufficient pay for their domestic and cheering the castration and torture during a good ol' lynching. Sometimes, things get turned topsy-turvy.
My archnemesis announces how many essays he has graded at least 10 times a day. I keep waiting for my 8 foot tall seatmate (who doesn't look like the type of guy to suffer fools gladly) to reach across the table and bloody his smushy, undefined nose. If that's possible. I'm not sure my archnemesis has bones or cartilage. I suspect he is an invertebrate. I don't want to find out cuz that means I'd have to touch him. Ewwww.
My table leader (think overseer) brought us silly putty so we would quit talking. I decided I needed to create a new geometric shape every time I started a new folder and then observe how it changed over time. Things were going great--cubes, cylinders, spheres--until I decided to make a pyramid. I worked on that thing forever and never was satisfied. The Aztecs did that kind of stuff with giant rocks and no wheels. I suck.
Unfortunately, they schedule dinner from 5-7 and if you don't make it, you are out of luck. I have to work out, shower, and get back to the convention center in time to eat. Which I can manage. Unfortunately, the workout causes my mouth to change into a giant, voracious, gaping maw prepared to eat like Emilio Estevez in the Breakfast Club. Its probably pretty gross.
No spinach tonight. The quest continues...
Carrie the Red (stripe)
My roommate seems to prefer an earlier bedtime than I recall from last year. It's cramping my style. In bed by 10? When has that ever, ever happened? And I STILL fall asleep while grading essays. Seems a little pointless to me.
Today I hit the point where I read the same misinformation so many times that I start to wonder if I'm right or if I am misremembering my history (this place and process does some freaky things to a person's mind). For example, were women during the Progressive era ardent supporters of African-American rights? I seem to recall white women turned on African-Americans during the period 1880-1920, limiting their support of blacks to the wholly insufficient pay for their domestic and cheering the castration and torture during a good ol' lynching. Sometimes, things get turned topsy-turvy.
My archnemesis announces how many essays he has graded at least 10 times a day. I keep waiting for my 8 foot tall seatmate (who doesn't look like the type of guy to suffer fools gladly) to reach across the table and bloody his smushy, undefined nose. If that's possible. I'm not sure my archnemesis has bones or cartilage. I suspect he is an invertebrate. I don't want to find out cuz that means I'd have to touch him. Ewwww.
My table leader (think overseer) brought us silly putty so we would quit talking. I decided I needed to create a new geometric shape every time I started a new folder and then observe how it changed over time. Things were going great--cubes, cylinders, spheres--until I decided to make a pyramid. I worked on that thing forever and never was satisfied. The Aztecs did that kind of stuff with giant rocks and no wheels. I suck.
Unfortunately, they schedule dinner from 5-7 and if you don't make it, you are out of luck. I have to work out, shower, and get back to the convention center in time to eat. Which I can manage. Unfortunately, the workout causes my mouth to change into a giant, voracious, gaping maw prepared to eat like Emilio Estevez in the Breakfast Club. Its probably pretty gross.
No spinach tonight. The quest continues...
Carrie the Red (stripe)