Irritable Things

I did a thing on my way home which caused someone to do a thing. And that caused me to want to do or say other things, but I held back on doing or saying such things. I mean, that someone was about to do a thing, and if I hadn’t done my thing, then that someone would have done that thing, and my thing seemed like a perfectly benign thing to do, but apparently the person thought differently and did another thing instead of the original thing that didn’t happen because I did a thing that stopped it. Seriously, what was I supposed to do? I wasn’t about to do a completely different thing; maybe just that someone was having a bad day and was finding excuses to do the pettiest things. I can understand that. It’s the first day of class, and all of a sudden frillions of students appear from nowhere, but come on, someone, it’s your job to do certain things, and people do things with an expectation of those things to be done. So, just do them.

I also papercut myself. I hate that.

***

In other news, today was a decent first day. I was on campus before 0800, but I basically have class from 0930-2000, with a couple of breaks in between. And none of my classes start on the hour.

French 321: 930
French 202: 1205
English 356: 1335
English 292: 1710

Fun stuff, right?

Sometimes I Like to Mock Things

The lighting here isn’t bad.

I’m back in the good ol’ US of A. I’ve been in Provo just over 24 hours. Jetlag is possessing my body, but in between naps I’m managing to be productive. Actually, it’s a fight between jetlag and stress. Hundreds of pictures to sort through. So many stories to tell. Too many memories to count.

Amuse Me

A white board hangs on our front door. Sometimes the roommates write interesting things on it. Yesterday I happened to look at the door and found these two ideas wrestling:

I can’t identify the handwritings. Two different people, out of the three who live with me. I could figure them out easily enough. I pass through the kitchen all the time, and often I do the dishes just because it’s nice to have a clean surface for my food to ass on. I’m on about three hours’ sleep today, and that apparent curse word in the last sentence was a crude and pretty tacky derivation of a French word, but right now it’s pretty dang funny, and all I can think of is how my professor says that 60% of English vocabulary comes from French, and so many layers of meaning seep through words by learning another language, intensifying and expanding my power to communicate. Muah ha ha ha ha! But here, in this instance, I just visualize sitting on a plate of food.

Much easier than trying to reconcile the white board.

No wonder the French are so skinny.

I Sent One of My Professors This Email Tonight

I meant to speak up earlier about the total area Harlem covers. It’s actually shifted down (south) about 10 blocks, and it doesn’t quite go up to the northern tip, but only to 168th Street, if that far. Maybe even just to the 150s. North of that is a strong Dominican Republic presence as well as an Orthodox Jewish community (Yeshiva University is at 181st Street). This area is called Washington Heights, and this is where I lived most of my time in NYC.

The relatively new Harlem LDS chapel (almost 5 years old) is located at 127th Street and Lenox Avenue. It houses two wards. A lot of young (and white) LDS families who attend grad schools (mostly Columbia) integrate into these congregations, and it seems … odd how this wave of non-black, non-evangelical worshipers occupies the heart of Harlem for at least three hours every week.

Concerning the petition of civil rights through copyright, how immediately and readily accepted were the works of the Harlem Renaissance? Was it only through the High Modernists’ advocacy and sponsors’ endorsement of “primitive” culture that the literature spread? Were they the only ones who could realistically effect change? There are those who’d read African American literature because it has academic and moral value, and there are those who would/n’t read it because it’s African American. Did the literature only reach other High Modernists and scholars at the time and then later spread to other audiences?

***

I really like my history class, people. I just wish there was something more I could do about this B. C’est la vie. Or, c’est la B.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Puns make me laugh. Even stupid ones.

More from French Class

Le prof showed us this video before handing back our midterms from last week. If you can imagine the listening portion being worse than this representation of how the oral part of the exam went, then you have a pretty good idea of how I’m doing in the class. I laughed pretty hard, and yet, “suis-je ‘bothered'”? Oui.

When the bell rang at the end of class today, I gathered my things, and after I returned my exam to le prof, I said, “Je d├ęteste …!” And a classmate heard me, and she asked, “What?” Then, matter-of-factly, I said, “Cette classe.” Then she laughed really hard and asked if I was serious, and I told her I like the class, I just don’t like the grade I’m getting, and that it makes me mad. She could relate.