|There's a sunrise over there, if you wait -
||[Sep. 27th, 2003|06:14 pm]
So far from the start of the school year I have -|
- did more Support requests and amazingly enough was approved for a Web Interface one (though it was basically a General Unknown question)
- had my dorm room air conditioner die and get replaced
- drank enough tea to kill a small box of Ti Kuan Yin (a.k.a. Iron Goddess of Mercy - nifty black tea)
- played Phantasy Star II far enough to get killed by a radioactive pulsating tree
- made a website for a teacher with lovely Willaims Morris illuminated manuscripts
- had a horrible craving for looking up more info on Gnosticism
- slashed my toe badly with the corner of a door
- covered three pads of paper with doodles along with my class notes
- made decent tomato soup armed only with a microwave
- had a craving to play Savoir-Faire by Emily Short. Nifty text adventure with the feel of Venice and satin and magic.
In other news, my parents just got back from going up to Oregon. They sent me a box of goodies including a tiny richly scented bar of honey almond soap and these handblown marbles. The largest one is the size of a golf ball and all swirly blue and silver. It's got that heft and feel of really heavy glass. Someday I wish I could get a nice heavy bubbly glass mug. And just coo at it.
I also snagged (thanks to gisho) a copy of Pot on the Fire by John Thorne. It's this book that feels like you have a grumpy but nice man sitting beside you poinging over garlic. He writes in beautiful evocative simple prose about food and cooking and ideas. He's also occasionally so "wrong" about some stuff that you almost think he's right. One example is that he seems to have no concept of the idea of left over rice.
And now, I'm back to work on my essay for class. Really. I hate people who ask for the "point" of a chapter. Especially the first chapter of a book. It's usually all foreshadowing at that point, so what is there to say? Though it does result in essays that are all elliptical since you kind of weave the start into the end and back again.