Thursday, May 31, 2007
No, my dream was not about being attacked by Amish townsfolk. Furthermore, my car needs a name and ladybugs are ambiguous omens.
I had a horrible dream a few nights ago. I arrived in Penn State only to find that I needed to pass a swimming class before they would let me officially enroll in grad school. All of us were spread out in a huge pool and made to go through various drills. There I was, standing in chest-level water wearing a ill-fitting minidress that kept coming apart at the seams. As we were finishing up, we were informed that the class was going to cost us $17,000. Fuck. I decided to go back to Texas.
This probably stemmed from the fact that I'm sure everyone there thinks I'm an idiot now. While signing up for seminars, I noticed a really cool one about French decadence at the turn of the century. The course was billed as interdisciplinary, so even though it was through the French department, I automatically assumed that it was taught in English. The profs were really supportive and offered to do all of the paperwork and get it approved before the grad studies committee for me. THEN it dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, I should quickly double-check any sort of language requirment. Sure enough, I'm a moron. The readings are all going to be in French, and although I'm okay at the language, I'm not going to be able to fuckin' understand a philosophical text written in French. Sigh.
On a somewhat brighter note, my parents traded in (H)Ellen for a newer green car. As of now, she has no name, but I'm considering Edwina. Why Edwina? Well, I was watching Hold the Dream, the continuation of a staggeringly long story about Emma Harte and her family. One of her daughters is Edwina, and she's a total bitch. I feel for her, though, because her name is absolutely awful, and for some reason this compells me to immortalize her.
To be honest, I miss my old car. Granted, I realize I become ridiculously attached to inanimate objects, but she was the only car I ever had, and I still remember how ecstatic I was when I found her in our carport 6 years ago. Hopefully someone nice gets her and never ever plays John Mayer through her almost blown out speakers. Maybe I can get visitation rights?
Driving back to Alaska (see what I said about ridiculous attachments? I named my friggin' apartment!), I noticed a ladybug flying around in the car. This must be a good omen since, if I remember correctly, ladybugs are supposed to be good luck. In Under the Tuscan Sun, they are connected to sex. Crystal took one look at my new car and said that it had a good-sized backseat.
(Note: I stand by my story about a ladybug biting me in the 9th grade. I still have the red dot on my hand.)
Speaking of Alaska, I miss Sara. Hopefully a trip to New Mexico is in the cards this summer, because Pennsylvania is very far away.
This probably stemmed from the fact that I'm sure everyone there thinks I'm an idiot now. While signing up for seminars, I noticed a really cool one about French decadence at the turn of the century. The course was billed as interdisciplinary, so even though it was through the French department, I automatically assumed that it was taught in English. The profs were really supportive and offered to do all of the paperwork and get it approved before the grad studies committee for me. THEN it dawned on me that maybe, just maybe, I should quickly double-check any sort of language requirment. Sure enough, I'm a moron. The readings are all going to be in French, and although I'm okay at the language, I'm not going to be able to fuckin' understand a philosophical text written in French. Sigh.
On a somewhat brighter note, my parents traded in (H)Ellen for a newer green car. As of now, she has no name, but I'm considering Edwina. Why Edwina? Well, I was watching Hold the Dream, the continuation of a staggeringly long story about Emma Harte and her family. One of her daughters is Edwina, and she's a total bitch. I feel for her, though, because her name is absolutely awful, and for some reason this compells me to immortalize her.
To be honest, I miss my old car. Granted, I realize I become ridiculously attached to inanimate objects, but she was the only car I ever had, and I still remember how ecstatic I was when I found her in our carport 6 years ago. Hopefully someone nice gets her and never ever plays John Mayer through her almost blown out speakers. Maybe I can get visitation rights?
Driving back to Alaska (see what I said about ridiculous attachments? I named my friggin' apartment!), I noticed a ladybug flying around in the car. This must be a good omen since, if I remember correctly, ladybugs are supposed to be good luck. In Under the Tuscan Sun, they are connected to sex. Crystal took one look at my new car and said that it had a good-sized backseat.
(Note: I stand by my story about a ladybug biting me in the 9th grade. I still have the red dot on my hand.)
Speaking of Alaska, I miss Sara. Hopefully a trip to New Mexico is in the cards this summer, because Pennsylvania is very far away.
# posted by Anna : 5:56 PM
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maybe a ladybug sighting means you're going to have good luck sex. i'm not exactly sure what kind of sex that is, but it is sex after all.
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