awww, he looks so sad!!!
yay america for not being crazy and yay congress for listening to the PEOPLE.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Pouty Paulson
awww, he looks so sad!!!
yay america for not being crazy and yay congress for listening to the PEOPLE.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
the best and the brightest
and once again, Jon Stewart and the fake media do the job the real media should have done.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
...and i began to pray.....
I've done a bit of traveling in the last two years, but i have never really felt the urge to travel blog at all. the pressing need to blog at all is something that (un?)fortunately comes and goes, anyway.
but after traveling mainly by myself for the last three and a half days, i feel like all these things have happened--and i haven't share them with anyone! !!!.
which brings me to the possibly pre-mature conclusion that i do not actually enjoy traveling by myself. however, there are so many people who do, and i think the general idea of traveling alone is somewhat attractive, or at least very romanticized and i like those sort of things, that i'll probably try it again in the future. maybe. maybe not.
heavens, why would i do that, though? i get along with most people, and i think that i'm a pretty fun/chill/nice person, who wouldn't want to be my travel companion? i think it would be a disservice to humanity to continue to travel alone--it would be a waste of my fabu abilities and personality. so there.
anyway, i got to san francisco three days ago and instantly mastered the public transportation system. suck on that, BART and CALTRAIN and and AirBART and MUNI buses and five million other acronyms! you can't outsmart me! i'm a map-reader! Post-Jordan instance of confusion #1: transportation here has actual schedules and leave on time and stuff. since i have consistently not been on time to things and missed the bus, i don't know if this is actually a good/more efficient way of doing things.
also, i rode the cable car. it was fun when i was like, "hey! i'm riding a cable car! @#$%!" and then it wasn't fun anymore because it cost, like, 11 dollars and also doesn't go very fast. moral of the story: cable cars belong in the category of Touristy Things Everyone Does But That Actually Suck.
anyway, i spent the rest of the afternoon stubbling around the Russian and Nob Hills neighborhoods of San Francisco, which are beautiful and hilly and have many alluring ice cream shops. i enjoyed finding grassy, woodsy spots in the middle of the city, like small parks or cool backyards, good trees. potted plants. they have an amazing little grassy spot overlooking the city a couple blocks up from the famous Lumbard street, it's beautiful and great for taking your shoes off. i haven't slept in the grass in sooo long...
I met some interesting people the first day. best of all, we spoke in english. i've just been wallowing in the delight of making conversation with people in english for the week that i've been back in the US. today, i sat in my friend's cousin's living room for twenty minutes, and they were all talking and i was just sitting there, and i understood everything that was said! without even trying! native languages are awesome! anyway, the first man i met introduced himself as Eskimo. he was a six foot black man with the largest diamond rings i have ever seen, bigger than Jordanian college girls, who sat across from me on the BART train. he complimented my outfit, which meant a lot to me because he was wearing a black velvor suitcoat and tux pants like it was normal at 2 in the afternoon, and so that was cool. he told me the first thing i should do in San Fran is go the Gucci store, and then go to the mall. then he asked for my email address. i'm still in Jordan-avoid males mode, so i didn't give it to him, then when he was getting off at the same subway stop i was, i rode to the next one and then back tracked. it was probably smart, anyway.
my first day, i also ate at the greatest seafood restuarant (oh! fresh shrimp! it has been too long!), Swan something or other on some street (just ask around or something), and that is where i met a man named Mike. he'd lived in San Francisco for 16 years and he loved everything about it. when he found out that i was here by myself and that i had spent the past four months studying in Amman, he referred to me repeatedly as "very balls-y", which i admit, i quite enjoyed, though the actual truth of that statement is in question. anyway, he was very entertaining, and i enjoyed playing the use-other-excuses-than-mormonism-for-why-i-can't-drink game with him ('under twenty-one' never works, 'alcoholism runs in my family' always does), and he and his friends shared their oysters with me. they were the kind that you just slurp right out of the shell, which was a first for me. the first one i ate was loaded with tobasco sauce, and i had to pretend that it was too hot for me, because they were all old men and i didn't want to show them up with my hot-foods toleration prowess. the second one i ate just by itself, just slurped that little thang right up, and it tasted exactly like what i image licking a seaside dock would taste like.
later that day, when i was hanging out in this cool park, i met a kid from boston who was hanging out for the summer in San Francisco with his brother and a few friends. we talked about obama and foreign relations and the middle east and books and how he is dropping out of college because he invented the facebook graffiti application and has a pretty solid thing going with that. so that's cool, i met someone who influences all of our lives in one little way :).
The next day, i explored this marsh land around Palo Alto. PA is where mallory has been living, its the town near Stanford. It's cute in general here. cute houses, cute downtown area, cute people. cute! but the marshlands were pretty great. marshy-ness and the smells it generates reminds me of my childhood. unfortunately, i was not exactly prepared for this type of adventure, and got some kind of nice clothes really extremely dirty, especially when i was scaling the balcony of an abandoned ranger station (which, by the way, trespassing is way scarier in the US than in Jordan, because you can't pull that whole 'i don't speak the language here' thing to avoid being arrested) and trekking thru mud that mysteriously swallowed my shoes (i got them back). anyway, after that i went to the cute parts of town, but i still smelled like marsh so it was even cooler. later met up with Mal and we ate Thai food, which i'm always told is awesome, and it's not bad, but i like indian better.
So yesterday, i performed another wonderous feat of public transportation and went to Santa Cruz, the Nor Cal surfing capital. Oh
my
GOODNESS GRACIOUS the water is freezing cold there.
i think the first day, i swam for maybe a total of an hour. it didn't help that with wind chill, the air temp was only about 65. it was sunny outside, but it was all a facade, that sun. you couldn't feel a single ray. The second day, in despair and desparate for some ocean time, a rented a wetsuit. this allowed me to swim for an hour and a half. blah. i could go to the beach in january in florida and the water would have been warmer.
i also ate the most delicious blueberry pancakes of my life in this city. i walked up to some man, asked him if he knew the area, and then asked him where in the heck i could get some pancakes. Linda's Seabreeze Cafe. Homey and bizzare, excellent pancakes.
i didn't meet very many people in Santa Cruz. it was because a) i was too busy trying to figure out how to swim without dying b) i was eating pancakes or corn on the cob, both of which were kinda overly sensual experiences and people could just tell i need some time to be alone and eat c) a lot of people were on drugs or had that shabab leer going on, so i didn't want to talk to them d) my roommates at the hostel were old ladies who went to bed at 9 and a surly french girl who never made eye contact with me e) when you did talk to people, hey used the phrase "right on" a lot, and i don't know how to respond to/handle that.
anyway, i have another week to knock out San Francisco and the surrounding territories, and also add to the list of things i've learned during my first independent traveling experience. seriously, this is the story of learning experiences. awesome! not.
but after traveling mainly by myself for the last three and a half days, i feel like all these things have happened--and i haven't share them with anyone! !!!.
which brings me to the possibly pre-mature conclusion that i do not actually enjoy traveling by myself. however, there are so many people who do, and i think the general idea of traveling alone is somewhat attractive, or at least very romanticized and i like those sort of things, that i'll probably try it again in the future. maybe. maybe not.
heavens, why would i do that, though? i get along with most people, and i think that i'm a pretty fun/chill/nice person, who wouldn't want to be my travel companion? i think it would be a disservice to humanity to continue to travel alone--it would be a waste of my fabu abilities and personality. so there.
anyway, i got to san francisco three days ago and instantly mastered the public transportation system. suck on that, BART and CALTRAIN and and AirBART and MUNI buses and five million other acronyms! you can't outsmart me! i'm a map-reader! Post-Jordan instance of confusion #1: transportation here has actual schedules and leave on time and stuff. since i have consistently not been on time to things and missed the bus, i don't know if this is actually a good/more efficient way of doing things.
also, i rode the cable car. it was fun when i was like, "hey! i'm riding a cable car! @#$%!" and then it wasn't fun anymore because it cost, like, 11 dollars and also doesn't go very fast. moral of the story: cable cars belong in the category of Touristy Things Everyone Does But That Actually Suck.
anyway, i spent the rest of the afternoon stubbling around the Russian and Nob Hills neighborhoods of San Francisco, which are beautiful and hilly and have many alluring ice cream shops. i enjoyed finding grassy, woodsy spots in the middle of the city, like small parks or cool backyards, good trees. potted plants. they have an amazing little grassy spot overlooking the city a couple blocks up from the famous Lumbard street, it's beautiful and great for taking your shoes off. i haven't slept in the grass in sooo long...
I met some interesting people the first day. best of all, we spoke in english. i've just been wallowing in the delight of making conversation with people in english for the week that i've been back in the US. today, i sat in my friend's cousin's living room for twenty minutes, and they were all talking and i was just sitting there, and i understood everything that was said! without even trying! native languages are awesome! anyway, the first man i met introduced himself as Eskimo. he was a six foot black man with the largest diamond rings i have ever seen, bigger than Jordanian college girls, who sat across from me on the BART train. he complimented my outfit, which meant a lot to me because he was wearing a black velvor suitcoat and tux pants like it was normal at 2 in the afternoon, and so that was cool. he told me the first thing i should do in San Fran is go the Gucci store, and then go to the mall. then he asked for my email address. i'm still in Jordan-avoid males mode, so i didn't give it to him, then when he was getting off at the same subway stop i was, i rode to the next one and then back tracked. it was probably smart, anyway.
my first day, i also ate at the greatest seafood restuarant (oh! fresh shrimp! it has been too long!), Swan something or other on some street (just ask around or something), and that is where i met a man named Mike. he'd lived in San Francisco for 16 years and he loved everything about it. when he found out that i was here by myself and that i had spent the past four months studying in Amman, he referred to me repeatedly as "very balls-y", which i admit, i quite enjoyed, though the actual truth of that statement is in question. anyway, he was very entertaining, and i enjoyed playing the use-other-excuses-than-mormonism-for-why-i-can't-drink game with him ('under twenty-one' never works, 'alcoholism runs in my family' always does), and he and his friends shared their oysters with me. they were the kind that you just slurp right out of the shell, which was a first for me. the first one i ate was loaded with tobasco sauce, and i had to pretend that it was too hot for me, because they were all old men and i didn't want to show them up with my hot-foods toleration prowess. the second one i ate just by itself, just slurped that little thang right up, and it tasted exactly like what i image licking a seaside dock would taste like.
later that day, when i was hanging out in this cool park, i met a kid from boston who was hanging out for the summer in San Francisco with his brother and a few friends. we talked about obama and foreign relations and the middle east and books and how he is dropping out of college because he invented the facebook graffiti application and has a pretty solid thing going with that. so that's cool, i met someone who influences all of our lives in one little way :).
The next day, i explored this marsh land around Palo Alto. PA is where mallory has been living, its the town near Stanford. It's cute in general here. cute houses, cute downtown area, cute people. cute! but the marshlands were pretty great. marshy-ness and the smells it generates reminds me of my childhood. unfortunately, i was not exactly prepared for this type of adventure, and got some kind of nice clothes really extremely dirty, especially when i was scaling the balcony of an abandoned ranger station (which, by the way, trespassing is way scarier in the US than in Jordan, because you can't pull that whole 'i don't speak the language here' thing to avoid being arrested) and trekking thru mud that mysteriously swallowed my shoes (i got them back). anyway, after that i went to the cute parts of town, but i still smelled like marsh so it was even cooler. later met up with Mal and we ate Thai food, which i'm always told is awesome, and it's not bad, but i like indian better.
So yesterday, i performed another wonderous feat of public transportation and went to Santa Cruz, the Nor Cal surfing capital. Oh
my
GOODNESS GRACIOUS the water is freezing cold there.
i think the first day, i swam for maybe a total of an hour. it didn't help that with wind chill, the air temp was only about 65. it was sunny outside, but it was all a facade, that sun. you couldn't feel a single ray. The second day, in despair and desparate for some ocean time, a rented a wetsuit. this allowed me to swim for an hour and a half. blah. i could go to the beach in january in florida and the water would have been warmer.
i also ate the most delicious blueberry pancakes of my life in this city. i walked up to some man, asked him if he knew the area, and then asked him where in the heck i could get some pancakes. Linda's Seabreeze Cafe. Homey and bizzare, excellent pancakes.
i didn't meet very many people in Santa Cruz. it was because a) i was too busy trying to figure out how to swim without dying b) i was eating pancakes or corn on the cob, both of which were kinda overly sensual experiences and people could just tell i need some time to be alone and eat c) a lot of people were on drugs or had that shabab leer going on, so i didn't want to talk to them d) my roommates at the hostel were old ladies who went to bed at 9 and a surly french girl who never made eye contact with me e) when you did talk to people, hey used the phrase "right on" a lot, and i don't know how to respond to/handle that.
anyway, i have another week to knock out San Francisco and the surrounding territories, and also add to the list of things i've learned during my first independent traveling experience. seriously, this is the story of learning experiences. awesome! not.
Friday, August 15, 2008
it came from beneath
so....i sucked at that whole update your blog and tell people about your life half way across the world thing.
but i have about twelve more hours in jordan and i'm totally the deathbed repentance type, so i'll go for it one last time.
things i will miss about jordan:
-pita bread
-30 qersh (about fifty cent) falafel
-being able to get on the roof of any building, anywhere
-the foreigner treatment (the good kind where you get things for free and stuff)
-two hour church block
-microbuses can take you anywhere in the country
-fireworks all over the city every night
-adventures with comrade Nikki and other assorted peoples
-the complete removal from my 'real' (aka stateside) life and the amazing perspective this allows
i'd write a rebuttal "things i wont miss" list, but i don't want to get all angsty again, not when i'm so close to getting out. one of my biggest accomplishments this summer is that as bitter as i may have been at times, i'm not leaving bitter. i don't hate Amman. i don't hate arabic, or arabs, or my teachers here. i don't even really hate my host family (though i am never ever never doing a homestay again). i probably will record some of my bitterness so that i can have something to bring me back to earth when i'm feeling all nostalgic and romantic and orientalist about my time here, but not in this public forum.
but hey, i still have twelve more hours. and a day in egypt. and a return to the middle east in a very short time. this isn't a send off. this isn't an end. i can't even attempt to draw some overarching conclusions until the 12 hour plane ride. but these sort of things, study abroads and surrealism and such, they don't really have appropriate endings anyway. they just sort of taper off or explode violently or get drowned in this weird sleety white-wash of everything that has happened in the past period replaying itsself in your mind. how very very strange it all is, all these people i've met and things i've done and thoughts i've had.
fare thee.
but i have about twelve more hours in jordan and i'm totally the deathbed repentance type, so i'll go for it one last time.
things i will miss about jordan:
-pita bread
-30 qersh (about fifty cent) falafel
-being able to get on the roof of any building, anywhere
-the foreigner treatment (the good kind where you get things for free and stuff)
-two hour church block
-microbuses can take you anywhere in the country
-fireworks all over the city every night
-adventures with comrade Nikki and other assorted peoples
-the complete removal from my 'real' (aka stateside) life and the amazing perspective this allows
i'd write a rebuttal "things i wont miss" list, but i don't want to get all angsty again, not when i'm so close to getting out. one of my biggest accomplishments this summer is that as bitter as i may have been at times, i'm not leaving bitter. i don't hate Amman. i don't hate arabic, or arabs, or my teachers here. i don't even really hate my host family (though i am never ever never doing a homestay again). i probably will record some of my bitterness so that i can have something to bring me back to earth when i'm feeling all nostalgic and romantic and orientalist about my time here, but not in this public forum.
but hey, i still have twelve more hours. and a day in egypt. and a return to the middle east in a very short time. this isn't a send off. this isn't an end. i can't even attempt to draw some overarching conclusions until the 12 hour plane ride. but these sort of things, study abroads and surrealism and such, they don't really have appropriate endings anyway. they just sort of taper off or explode violently or get drowned in this weird sleety white-wash of everything that has happened in the past period replaying itsself in your mind. how very very strange it all is, all these people i've met and things i've done and thoughts i've had.
fare thee.
Sunday, May 25, 2008
o holy night
Tonight was one of the most surreal nights of my life.
i feel like i've started a lot stories that way in the past year or so--if everything is so surreal, than maybe it's not so much surreal as my perception of reality is a bit off.
anyway.
Abdoun circle is aparently this really fun place to hang out in Amman. my 17 year old host brother muhammed says he's there almost every night, and Tamara, my 25 year old host sister, agrees, though she doesn't want to go with Muhammed. She refuses to go with him, even though we all meet up, Tamara and Muhammed and Nikki and Muhammed's friend and i, we all meet up later at Abdoun circle like that was the plan all along and there wasn't a minor scene at the apartment about who was coming with who where.
anyway.
By the time Muhammed and Lutfi (maybe friends name, i'm never really sure) get there, i'm well on my way to bewilderment and sulking from the sheer incomprehension of everything that is going on.
Today is a holiday. no school. no work. Eid al-Istaklal--independence day in Jordan. We're watching cars go in cirlces around the duwar, honking repetatively, which is not abnormal for the ME, and waving jordanian flags and shouting, they keep going around and around and Oh Holy Night is playing over the cafe loudspeakers, and it's a version that i recognize, and old one, but i can't remember the singer and i don't think i ever knew it. the waiter brings us a complimentary cake, and it's not because of the two american girls it's because tamara is particularly captivating in a way i don't understand yet, and it's just a very very weird independence day. i can't remember too many other times when i've felt less independent in my entire life. and why the hell are they playing american christmas music at the end of may in a jordanian cafe. i don't even like this cake.
i'm still watching the cars, and trying to figure out how else i can tell my host siblings that i'm not unhappy i'm just tired, and i think about what Melissa said to me once about cars when we were in high school. i thought it was such an interesting remark to make and i keep waiting for someone else to say it again, in a different time and place, because i think about it a lot and i'm sure other people are thinking the same thing. especially in the ME. she said once, driving is kind of weird. everyone is in these large metal boxes, and the whole point is to move around as fast as you can without hitting each other, and it's just weird that we don't take these big, fast, metal containers and run into each other with them more often. If you've seen the traffic here, you would understand why i think about this all the time. why don't we run into each other more often? but i was thinking about this in a weird context the other day. in my hotel room, talking to lydia. i was asking her, i was asking the rooom in general and most especially i was asking god, if we all just want the same thing, if we all are just looking for happiness and peace, if we are all just looking for love, if we are all just trying to learn as much as we can, we doesn't it get done so much, why is there is still so much unhappiness and war and death and destruction and everthing, and why is is still so hard. why dont we run into each other more. it seems like there should be more crashes in life, whatever that may mean in all it's different contexts, and there aren't.
anyway.
i'm watching all these people and their jordanian independence day pride, and it's really weird. it reminds me more of cheering for the home team, like a mass rally for the favorite soccer team, than an outpouring of patriotism which may or may not mask certain ideological viewpoints. patriotism here doesn't have a the connotations that it does in the US, were overt and adament patriotism is associated with only, idk, hicks and republicans and whoever else. how strange. how very strange everything is.
anyway.
we're getting a ride home with Tamara and Muhammed's cousin. he pulls up in a little tiny bright green clown car. seriously, i saw this thing at the circus once. and we have a total of 7 people that have to fit in it. it was the weirdest ride home ever. i don't even know what i was laughing at. i think the sheer absurdity of my life as i know it. i don't even know what is happening. where am i? what street is this? did i pay my share of the tab at dinner? why is Lutfi half in the trunk, is he okay? how do i say this in arabic? what are they saying and why can't i understand it? how am i going to get through tonight and the next and the next and the next three months? absurdity.
anyway. we're home. or somewhere like it. happy jordanian independence day.
i feel like i've started a lot stories that way in the past year or so--if everything is so surreal, than maybe it's not so much surreal as my perception of reality is a bit off.
anyway.
Abdoun circle is aparently this really fun place to hang out in Amman. my 17 year old host brother muhammed says he's there almost every night, and Tamara, my 25 year old host sister, agrees, though she doesn't want to go with Muhammed. She refuses to go with him, even though we all meet up, Tamara and Muhammed and Nikki and Muhammed's friend and i, we all meet up later at Abdoun circle like that was the plan all along and there wasn't a minor scene at the apartment about who was coming with who where.
anyway.
By the time Muhammed and Lutfi (maybe friends name, i'm never really sure) get there, i'm well on my way to bewilderment and sulking from the sheer incomprehension of everything that is going on.
Today is a holiday. no school. no work. Eid al-Istaklal--independence day in Jordan. We're watching cars go in cirlces around the duwar, honking repetatively, which is not abnormal for the ME, and waving jordanian flags and shouting, they keep going around and around and Oh Holy Night is playing over the cafe loudspeakers, and it's a version that i recognize, and old one, but i can't remember the singer and i don't think i ever knew it. the waiter brings us a complimentary cake, and it's not because of the two american girls it's because tamara is particularly captivating in a way i don't understand yet, and it's just a very very weird independence day. i can't remember too many other times when i've felt less independent in my entire life. and why the hell are they playing american christmas music at the end of may in a jordanian cafe. i don't even like this cake.
i'm still watching the cars, and trying to figure out how else i can tell my host siblings that i'm not unhappy i'm just tired, and i think about what Melissa said to me once about cars when we were in high school. i thought it was such an interesting remark to make and i keep waiting for someone else to say it again, in a different time and place, because i think about it a lot and i'm sure other people are thinking the same thing. especially in the ME. she said once, driving is kind of weird. everyone is in these large metal boxes, and the whole point is to move around as fast as you can without hitting each other, and it's just weird that we don't take these big, fast, metal containers and run into each other with them more often. If you've seen the traffic here, you would understand why i think about this all the time. why don't we run into each other more often? but i was thinking about this in a weird context the other day. in my hotel room, talking to lydia. i was asking her, i was asking the rooom in general and most especially i was asking god, if we all just want the same thing, if we all are just looking for happiness and peace, if we are all just looking for love, if we are all just trying to learn as much as we can, we doesn't it get done so much, why is there is still so much unhappiness and war and death and destruction and everthing, and why is is still so hard. why dont we run into each other more. it seems like there should be more crashes in life, whatever that may mean in all it's different contexts, and there aren't.
anyway.
i'm watching all these people and their jordanian independence day pride, and it's really weird. it reminds me more of cheering for the home team, like a mass rally for the favorite soccer team, than an outpouring of patriotism which may or may not mask certain ideological viewpoints. patriotism here doesn't have a the connotations that it does in the US, were overt and adament patriotism is associated with only, idk, hicks and republicans and whoever else. how strange. how very strange everything is.
anyway.
we're getting a ride home with Tamara and Muhammed's cousin. he pulls up in a little tiny bright green clown car. seriously, i saw this thing at the circus once. and we have a total of 7 people that have to fit in it. it was the weirdest ride home ever. i don't even know what i was laughing at. i think the sheer absurdity of my life as i know it. i don't even know what is happening. where am i? what street is this? did i pay my share of the tab at dinner? why is Lutfi half in the trunk, is he okay? how do i say this in arabic? what are they saying and why can't i understand it? how am i going to get through tonight and the next and the next and the next three months? absurdity.
anyway. we're home. or somewhere like it. happy jordanian independence day.
Thursday, April 17, 2008
dipthongs everywhere!
So, reading through my Arabic notes from the last semester, i've written some funny/stupid/weird things about Dil. Let me share some of them.
"If a tyrannosaurus rex grew up as an only child in an upper middle class household and then went on to be a university professor, he would look exactly like Dil."
To explain:
--i think this particular comment has to do with the angularity of his jawline and cheekbones, and the way that he compulsively smooths his hair with what can only be described as a clawing motion....just think about it guys...
--basically, dil has a rather unfathomable personality. as i have not actually gotten to know him personally, i have made up his past and other factors that i think made him what he is today, which is probably completely wrong but much more entertaining than the real thing.
1. Dil probably grew up as an only child. he was fabulously smart, but his parents didn't spoil him or fuss over him as some try to do. they sort of treated him like that really nice boat you get when you have the money, thinking you'll use it all the time, but actually you don't. just sometimes, when it's really sunny outside, you think 'oh, yeah! i have a boat!' and then you use it and it's fabulous, and then you forget it again for another 3 and a half months. well, Dil was like that boat. his parents were very rich, and often went to parties and forgot about him and didn't come home until 4 in the morning. however, none of this was very tragic; he actually appreciated all the time alone and read a lot of encyclopedias. he's had glasses since he was 3 years old. that was how dil's childhood went. he also had a really big, loyal dog, that he loved a lot but never told it.
2. Dil has never lied to anyone in his whole life. that is why he says weird things sometimes that are really funny--because he doesn't know how to tell anything but the truth, and the truth is pretty funny.
3. Dil likes being a professor, but his dream job would really be a tennis instructor. however, he never liked the way he looked in tennis shoes, they made his ankles look to skinny, so he gave that up a long time ago and never looked back. Dil is the kind of person who makes decisions and knows to never look back.
and that is my completely fabricated analysis of dil's personality.
one more thing from my arabic notes:
"dil parkinson is one of the only people who would probably look good in a mortarboard"
"If a tyrannosaurus rex grew up as an only child in an upper middle class household and then went on to be a university professor, he would look exactly like Dil."
To explain:
--i think this particular comment has to do with the angularity of his jawline and cheekbones, and the way that he compulsively smooths his hair with what can only be described as a clawing motion....just think about it guys...
--basically, dil has a rather unfathomable personality. as i have not actually gotten to know him personally, i have made up his past and other factors that i think made him what he is today, which is probably completely wrong but much more entertaining than the real thing.
1. Dil probably grew up as an only child. he was fabulously smart, but his parents didn't spoil him or fuss over him as some try to do. they sort of treated him like that really nice boat you get when you have the money, thinking you'll use it all the time, but actually you don't. just sometimes, when it's really sunny outside, you think 'oh, yeah! i have a boat!' and then you use it and it's fabulous, and then you forget it again for another 3 and a half months. well, Dil was like that boat. his parents were very rich, and often went to parties and forgot about him and didn't come home until 4 in the morning. however, none of this was very tragic; he actually appreciated all the time alone and read a lot of encyclopedias. he's had glasses since he was 3 years old. that was how dil's childhood went. he also had a really big, loyal dog, that he loved a lot but never told it.
2. Dil has never lied to anyone in his whole life. that is why he says weird things sometimes that are really funny--because he doesn't know how to tell anything but the truth, and the truth is pretty funny.
3. Dil likes being a professor, but his dream job would really be a tennis instructor. however, he never liked the way he looked in tennis shoes, they made his ankles look to skinny, so he gave that up a long time ago and never looked back. Dil is the kind of person who makes decisions and knows to never look back.
and that is my completely fabricated analysis of dil's personality.
one more thing from my arabic notes:
"dil parkinson is one of the only people who would probably look good in a mortarboard"
Saturday, April 12, 2008
cuz tonight is the night feva.....we know how ta do it...
Friday, March 28th:
at the library studying until midnight.
Friday, April 4th:
at the library studying until i pass out. Go home and sleep.
Friday, April 11th:
at the library, reading The Economist. Go home and try to sleep. can't sleep. read book (scriptures, moby dick, the great gatsby), watch movie (after the thin man), be annoying.
party-party.
at the library studying until midnight.
Friday, April 4th:
at the library studying until i pass out. Go home and sleep.
Friday, April 11th:
at the library, reading The Economist. Go home and try to sleep. can't sleep. read book (scriptures, moby dick, the great gatsby), watch movie (after the thin man), be annoying.
party-party.
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