These little winding words

Anyone care to write a novel for me so that I can win the Paul Zindel First Novel Award?

No takers?

Well, as you can see, I'm surfing the FastWeb scholarship site for possible augmentations of funds (yup, I just made up a new word - how Shakespearean of me!). Some of them, however, just don't quite match with me as a student. Like the one place that wanted me to write an essay arguing in favor of "voluntary means of population control" - whoa! a bit Huxlean for me.

On a much brighter note, the Lord really helped me with my Problem Speech. I got up there and things just came out in their own way, but I was overjoyed after getting through with it.

Well, off to the chopping block. There is something childishly wonderful about literature classes. Whereas I must collect interviews for journalism or conguage verbs for spanish, in both of my literature classes I may spend basking in Thomas More, or Hamlet, or Samuel Beckett. (Ok, no one is ever going to actually bask in Beckett, but he had some interesting things to say!).

¡Ciao!
(rhyms with "now")

Monday monday

Well, after all of those very helpful comments on how I should run my future, one is tempted to giving up posting in order to guffa at one's poor friends, but this cannot be.

But, as it is, I can't post for long. I'd like to tell you that this is because I'm so frightfully studious that I can't spare 20 minutes away from the books. Wishful thinking, dear - it's actually because there's a big beautiful cantaloup in the fridge with my name on it. Melon heaven, here I come!

Big fat huge speech today in SPCH121. This thing has to be 8-10 minutes long and accompanied by a very sophisticated PowerPoint. It doesn't sound that long but me wee little brain pretty much have it all memorized so I covet your prayers on that head. :o)

What else? Oh yes, our Presbytery meeting is comming up, that's the meeting of all the pastors for our slice of the US - The Great Lakes/Gulf Presbytery, and this time - our church is hosting it! Pretty exciting that we'll have a few dozen RP pastors decending upon our congregation, he magnificent ladies of our church are well up to the challenge of feeding and housing them, I believe.

Latter tatter!

So very much to do

And a week's so little time!

Spring break? Spring cleaning! In more ways than one.

One quick prayer request. My last day of school two faculty members individually urged me to decide once and for all if I'm going to be a Humanities major or an English major. The advantage of the former is that the Humanities department will probably accept almost any Glasgow classes that I come back with as transfer credit (that is, if I come back to IUK at all after a year abroad... I don't have it all figured out!). But if I'm really drawn to English Literature and Linguistics as my life's study (and I kindof am right now) then it might help me in the long run to specialize in that direction now. Humanities is all of the fine arts and if I go to graduate school as a literature student (you should have seen how my eyes popped when my advisor said that, see! another think to think about!) then it would be helpful if I had my undergrad degree in English.

Make sense?? ::pant, pant::

Uh... Not really to me either.


Which is why it's a prayer request.

I'm done with Midterms

Now what am I going to do with myself over spring break?

Ye olde hattes of rede

Well, it’s officially Shakespeare week on planet IUK. Today I had the inestimable pleasure of putting on a silly red hat and guiding an English actor 12 steps down the hall to a classroom. On the hat subject, the trademark of all the students who signed up as Shakespeare Ambassadors are these red Renaissance hats which look unsettlingly like pastries. As out of place as I must have looked in Walgreens yesterday (people would stare and then begin hiding from my pastry of doom) when four of us are on campus together and sailing down the wind like a very flock of giddy tarts I believe the very sight of us must be moving and sublime.

And as you’ll note, I’ve been so stuffed with the Bards endless iambic pentameter that I managed to squeeze 116 words into three stuffed sentences.

Methinks I will hie me down to bed where dreams of scarlet bonnets can sing me to my rest…