Anyway, this just about sums up everything I think about my major:
From the July 25th drawing of Dirt Farm, published in Baltimore's own CityPaper (Represent). Perhaps I should not include this if I decide to apply for the program.
10/31/2007
Ironic
I was just about to pop on here and explain my passion for Marine Biology when I get an e-mail with details about an internship studying sharks in South Africa I enquired about.
Anyway, this just about sums up everything I think about my major:
From the July 25th drawing of Dirt Farm, published in Baltimore's own CityPaper (Represent). Perhaps I should not include this if I decide to apply for the program.
Anyway, this just about sums up everything I think about my major:
From the July 25th drawing of Dirt Farm, published in Baltimore's own CityPaper (Represent). Perhaps I should not include this if I decide to apply for the program.
10/30/2007
IT's not easy being blind
I can't really see what I'm writing.I've rewsigned myself to an afternoon of eating and listening to the radio, after having my pupils dialated at my eye apointment this afternoon. Thank goodness I know the macros on my computer well enough to et around without seeing any of th ekeys. I'm sure the typing errors I make and don't notice during this post will be a osurce of ammusement (and shame) later.
Forgettting to bring sunglasses was a folly, and I fled home from the clinic with my hand shading my eyes like a clebrity convict and the dorky plastic throw-away sunglasses in my pocket, entertaining ideas of stealing and now I've paused writing for so long I've forgotten what I put and I can't read it. It's like being very very drunk with amazing motor skills.
I've had to put on the radio as I can't read my iTunes. I planned on running errands and chilling in a coffee shop and catching up on reading this afternoon. Oh no. Well, like I said (have I? can't remember) it gives me an excuse to spend my time eating and listening to the radio.. Yes, even though I'm not on Fresh Air anymore, I'll still link to them.
Speaking of radio, I've ordered new uber-indie-nerd glasses for my next/new pair. Yes, I'm ditching the oval wire frames I've had since high school, and with pleasure. But I think I'll have to re-cut my bangs to go with the new glasses. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it -- which'll be in a week. I'm excited.
Ok, this post is hopeless and so I shall abandon it.
Forgettting to bring sunglasses was a folly, and I fled home from the clinic with my hand shading my eyes like a clebrity convict and the dorky plastic throw-away sunglasses in my pocket, entertaining ideas of stealing and now I've paused writing for so long I've forgotten what I put and I can't read it. It's like being very very drunk with amazing motor skills.
I've had to put on the radio as I can't read my iTunes. I planned on running errands and chilling in a coffee shop and catching up on reading this afternoon. Oh no. Well, like I said (have I? can't remember) it gives me an excuse to spend my time eating and listening to the radio.. Yes, even though I'm not on Fresh Air anymore, I'll still link to them.
Speaking of radio, I've ordered new uber-indie-nerd glasses for my next/new pair. Yes, I'm ditching the oval wire frames I've had since high school, and with pleasure. But I think I'll have to re-cut my bangs to go with the new glasses. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it -- which'll be in a week. I'm excited.
Ok, this post is hopeless and so I shall abandon it.
10/25/2007
Untitled
What a busy three days I've had since arriving back in LA. Monday was midterm (Physics mania) and Prom Dress Rugby (photos to follow), Tuesday was catching up and rugby practice, and today was class-o-rama and working in the evening for my cousin Kathy (caterer extraordinaire).
Ready for the mad, one-breath recap? Go: passed the midterm with (probably) the highest physics score I've ever gotten (82%); nearly dehydrated to death in the Prom Dress Rugby midday heat (but looked GREAT doing it); Tuesday = reading and errands (booooring); worked at a stylish little office-warming party over in Studio City/Burbank (fun and good food, but who the hell are SoapBox Productions?).
On the way back from Studio City, Laura (who worked with me) and I witnessed a dogged little woman with her shopping cart, making her way across Ventura Boulevard. Sitting at the red light, I was busy admiring her determination at pushing her little carriage across all 8 lanes of traffic when I realized she was crossing against the light. Eight lanes, against traffic, crazy Los Angeles drivers, at night. Read it again and understand the odds. As we panicked for her safety, Laura and I wondered if she was a few crayons short or actually realized what she was doing. One car screeched to a halt, barely, and maneuvered around her while a few more stopped in a less dramatic fashion. Holding out her left hand out like Yoda to the stopped cars, we understood: she knew exactly what she was doing. "Ahh, crazy lady, where are you going?! Why are you in such a rush? Fatburger will still be on the corner when you get there!" we cried in concern.
She made it to the corner and turned right just as our light went green. Sadly, I could not zip fast enough to catch a glimpse of this intrepid rebel before she was too far down the sidewalk. "Stop running away with your shopping cart! You are too fast!" Go, speed racer.
Apart from that, I've been re-enjoying the "More Cowbell" Sketch and some fun new blogs.
Ready for the mad, one-breath recap? Go: passed the midterm with (probably) the highest physics score I've ever gotten (82%); nearly dehydrated to death in the Prom Dress Rugby midday heat (but looked GREAT doing it); Tuesday = reading and errands (booooring); worked at a stylish little office-warming party over in Studio City/Burbank (fun and good food, but who the hell are SoapBox Productions?).
On the way back from Studio City, Laura (who worked with me) and I witnessed a dogged little woman with her shopping cart, making her way across Ventura Boulevard. Sitting at the red light, I was busy admiring her determination at pushing her little carriage across all 8 lanes of traffic when I realized she was crossing against the light. Eight lanes, against traffic, crazy Los Angeles drivers, at night. Read it again and understand the odds. As we panicked for her safety, Laura and I wondered if she was a few crayons short or actually realized what she was doing. One car screeched to a halt, barely, and maneuvered around her while a few more stopped in a less dramatic fashion. Holding out her left hand out like Yoda to the stopped cars, we understood: she knew exactly what she was doing. "Ahh, crazy lady, where are you going?! Why are you in such a rush? Fatburger will still be on the corner when you get there!" we cried in concern.
She made it to the corner and turned right just as our light went green. Sadly, I could not zip fast enough to catch a glimpse of this intrepid rebel before she was too far down the sidewalk. "Stop running away with your shopping cart! You are too fast!" Go, speed racer.
Apart from that, I've been re-enjoying the "More Cowbell" Sketch and some fun new blogs.
10/21/2007
Long Busy Weekend of Exhaustion
3 Cities, 3 days.
Friday: Depart Los Angeles early afternoon and escapade northwards towards Santa Cruz. Destination: Stephanie's. Mission: miss Scotland in the company of someone else missing Scotland. Successful.
Saturday morning I left SC for home and a full agenda. Arriving 10:30ish, my mom and I planned for a quick turnaround to go watch the rugby world cup final in a pub in San Francisco. We set off on BART and arrived just about ten minutes after kick off at a pub near the financial district. Informed by a huffy barmaid at the door that the place was full and there was no way we were going to get in, we were told to try a couple of other pubs in town, namely The Abbey. Ten dollars later we arrived at The Abbey and mom held the cab while I checked to see if there was space inside. There was, but there was also a $20 cover charge. Screw that! Back into the taxi and off to our second option which, by this point (almost 40 minutes into the match), would be our last option. Arriving at The Kezar we were informed that it too was full and that we'd best try The Abbey. "Yeah, but they're charging 20 bucks to get in," I told the Irish doorman, looking over his shoulder to the televisions inside. He responded with, "Well it's $20 to get in here too, but we're full so I'm sorry but you'll have to stand back from the door." I scoffed, spun on my heel, and marched down the block with my mom struggling to keep up. Until I realized I was going the wrong way. We doubled back and I gave the stupid Irishman my best indifferent cold shoulder as we passed. I mean, I love rugby, but I have my principles. And England lost, anyway. We ended up going for a couple of drinks and some nachos in the Haight instead.
Back home for dinner and then back into the city for Interpol, one of my favorite bands whom I had never seen before. Opening were Liars, who I found far less than interesting, but nonetheless effectively filled the gap. Fearing our headliners might pull a 'diva stromp' (as I've heard they've been known to do) mother and I braced ourselves with beer, but no need - Interpol took the stage in a timely and stylish fashion. And, lo, it was good. It was great. I've been a massive fan ever since 'Turn on the Bright Lights' came out while I was in high school and seeing them for the first time was pretty much like heaven on earth. No, that's corny. It was like ten thousand birthday cakes at once. In my face. Delicious and overwhelming. I must also take the opportunity to agree with a friend of a friend's comment about singer Paul Banks: "I want to sex his voice!" Thank you, Sara, couldn't put it better myself. I'm not going to dawdle into a full on gig review; I'll just say that they pretty much played every single song of theirs that I love.
Aaaand Sunday, the home stretch of the weekend at home. Intentions told me to get up early and accomplish something, but I resisted and took my sweet time getting away, finally leaving home at 3ish and Norcal around 6. My three hour pause was a lovely visit with an old high school friend who I hadn't seen in years. She's a fashion designer and off to Italy and New York and all sorts of amazing places... and it was wonderful to see her.
So now I'm back and I have a Physics midterm and Prom Dress Rugby tomorrow. Alriiiiiiiight! Pictures to follow.
Friday: Depart Los Angeles early afternoon and escapade northwards towards Santa Cruz. Destination: Stephanie's. Mission: miss Scotland in the company of someone else missing Scotland. Successful.
Saturday morning I left SC for home and a full agenda. Arriving 10:30ish, my mom and I planned for a quick turnaround to go watch the rugby world cup final in a pub in San Francisco. We set off on BART and arrived just about ten minutes after kick off at a pub near the financial district. Informed by a huffy barmaid at the door that the place was full and there was no way we were going to get in, we were told to try a couple of other pubs in town, namely The Abbey. Ten dollars later we arrived at The Abbey and mom held the cab while I checked to see if there was space inside. There was, but there was also a $20 cover charge. Screw that! Back into the taxi and off to our second option which, by this point (almost 40 minutes into the match), would be our last option. Arriving at The Kezar we were informed that it too was full and that we'd best try The Abbey. "Yeah, but they're charging 20 bucks to get in," I told the Irish doorman, looking over his shoulder to the televisions inside. He responded with, "Well it's $20 to get in here too, but we're full so I'm sorry but you'll have to stand back from the door." I scoffed, spun on my heel, and marched down the block with my mom struggling to keep up. Until I realized I was going the wrong way. We doubled back and I gave the stupid Irishman my best indifferent cold shoulder as we passed. I mean, I love rugby, but I have my principles. And England lost, anyway. We ended up going for a couple of drinks and some nachos in the Haight instead.
Back home for dinner and then back into the city for Interpol, one of my favorite bands whom I had never seen before. Opening were Liars, who I found far less than interesting, but nonetheless effectively filled the gap. Fearing our headliners might pull a 'diva stromp' (as I've heard they've been known to do) mother and I braced ourselves with beer, but no need - Interpol took the stage in a timely and stylish fashion. And, lo, it was good. It was great. I've been a massive fan ever since 'Turn on the Bright Lights' came out while I was in high school and seeing them for the first time was pretty much like heaven on earth. No, that's corny. It was like ten thousand birthday cakes at once. In my face. Delicious and overwhelming. I must also take the opportunity to agree with a friend of a friend's comment about singer Paul Banks: "I want to sex his voice!" Thank you, Sara, couldn't put it better myself. I'm not going to dawdle into a full on gig review; I'll just say that they pretty much played every single song of theirs that I love.
Aaaand Sunday, the home stretch of the weekend at home. Intentions told me to get up early and accomplish something, but I resisted and took my sweet time getting away, finally leaving home at 3ish and Norcal around 6. My three hour pause was a lovely visit with an old high school friend who I hadn't seen in years. She's a fashion designer and off to Italy and New York and all sorts of amazing places... and it was wonderful to see her.
So now I'm back and I have a Physics midterm and Prom Dress Rugby tomorrow. Alriiiiiiiight! Pictures to follow.
10/18/2007
"You Shouldn't Rely On Other People For Your Happiness."
What the fuck? So what are you supposed to rely on for your happiness? Your classes? Your major? This consumer culture around us? It's a lot easier to make that sort of pronouncement when you have a career and significant other (although lord knows those can be far flung indicators of happiness).
Life is about loving. Not 'loving life' in that corny Hallmark way, but loving the people around you and them loving you back. All we've really got is each other, bundled together on spinning mass of rock, hurtling through space and time.
I hate UCLA. I hate Los Angeles. I hate living in America. I thought I had more to say on this topic, but I don't really. Best leave it then; brevity is the essence of... oh never mind.
(The quote is what my mom said to me on my 21st Birthday.)
Life is about loving. Not 'loving life' in that corny Hallmark way, but loving the people around you and them loving you back. All we've really got is each other, bundled together on spinning mass of rock, hurtling through space and time.
I hate UCLA. I hate Los Angeles. I hate living in America. I thought I had more to say on this topic, but I don't really. Best leave it then; brevity is the essence of... oh never mind.
(The quote is what my mom said to me on my 21st Birthday.)
10/16/2007
Sha-La-La-La-La-La Land
Er, yes. Ought to be reading. Ought to be studying. Ought to be doing any number of more productive things. But that's just no fun, now is it?
I went to the Los Angeles Zoo today for an assignment for my Primate Behavior class. It's the second time I've ever been there, and it struck me the same as last time: adequate, for both animal and visitor. I did, however, achieve my mission for the day: arrive, finish the assignment, and leave before traffic started. Check. How sad is that? Every excursion from my house in my car revolves around avoiding traffic. Though if you knew LA traffic you'd do the same -- it runs from 6am-10am and from 3pm-7pm. Not a very big window there for ya.
In other news I've been devoting all my time to rugby here. Sunday practice, Monday weights, Tuesday practice, Wednesday weights, Thursday practice... You get the picture. But this coming Monday (the 29th) is our excellent event, Prom Dress Rugby! Confused?
It does what it says on the tin: rugby in a prom dress. I haven't assembled my outfit yet, but I'm off on a quest Thursday for a real stunner of a dress. The poofier the better -- I want the 'floating/no feet' look. And after that, a roll of duct tape to reapply my dress during halftime.
And in OTHER rugby news I am extremely excited about the upcoming World Cup Final on Saturday between England and South Africa. That and I'm obsessed with Johnny Wilkinson, though I don't entirely know why. I called him a "wickedly talented prat" in a previous post when England beat Scotland in the 6 Nations... just a touch of jealousy? Just a touch. This also comes amidst a comment by my coach here to practice my catching since I'll 'never be kicking in a game.' I felt like the stereotypical little kid in an inspirational sports movie: "C'mon coach, gimme a chance!" Just have to prove some things on the field, I guess.
Anyway, back to Johnny Wilkinson.
That's better. Just screams Great Gatsby, doesn't it? Oh I miss British fashion so.
In closing, I leave you with the wise words of Billy Bragg (enjoy the lack of context):
"I saw two shooting stars last night
I wished on them, but they were only satellites
It's wrong to wish on space hardware..."
I can already feel that this year is going to revolve around rugby...
Fin.
I went to the Los Angeles Zoo today for an assignment for my Primate Behavior class. It's the second time I've ever been there, and it struck me the same as last time: adequate, for both animal and visitor. I did, however, achieve my mission for the day: arrive, finish the assignment, and leave before traffic started. Check. How sad is that? Every excursion from my house in my car revolves around avoiding traffic. Though if you knew LA traffic you'd do the same -- it runs from 6am-10am and from 3pm-7pm. Not a very big window there for ya.
In other news I've been devoting all my time to rugby here. Sunday practice, Monday weights, Tuesday practice, Wednesday weights, Thursday practice... You get the picture. But this coming Monday (the 29th) is our excellent event, Prom Dress Rugby! Confused?
It does what it says on the tin: rugby in a prom dress. I haven't assembled my outfit yet, but I'm off on a quest Thursday for a real stunner of a dress. The poofier the better -- I want the 'floating/no feet' look. And after that, a roll of duct tape to reapply my dress during halftime.
And in OTHER rugby news I am extremely excited about the upcoming World Cup Final on Saturday between England and South Africa. That and I'm obsessed with Johnny Wilkinson, though I don't entirely know why. I called him a "wickedly talented prat" in a previous post when England beat Scotland in the 6 Nations... just a touch of jealousy? Just a touch. This also comes amidst a comment by my coach here to practice my catching since I'll 'never be kicking in a game.' I felt like the stereotypical little kid in an inspirational sports movie: "C'mon coach, gimme a chance!" Just have to prove some things on the field, I guess.
Anyway, back to Johnny Wilkinson.
That's better. Just screams Great Gatsby, doesn't it? Oh I miss British fashion so.
In closing, I leave you with the wise words of Billy Bragg (enjoy the lack of context):
"I saw two shooting stars last night
I wished on them, but they were only satellites
It's wrong to wish on space hardware..."
I can already feel that this year is going to revolve around rugby...
Fin.
10/14/2007
Numero Uno
Well, after reading back through my wildy successful blog from last year, Julia Goes to Scotland (thank you, thank you, I know...), I've decided to give it another crack, this time chronicling my various adventures battling the city of Los Angeles. I shall be spewing my wit, wisdom, and deeds on this here ye olde webpage. Because that's what the world needs, yet another person's opinions blathering about on the 'net, right?
I'm listening to "The Drugs Don't Work" by The Verve at the moment. Fitting, it seems, given the setting. No amount of drugs could ever make me love this city. (If you can call it a city, that is.)
I'll get to the reasons for my deep-rooted hatred of Angeltown in a later post, but first I'll explain a few of the basics for you so you're not TOTALLY lost when I post, even though chances are you know me. If you don't... how did you get here, you perv? Kidding. Sort of.
Yes, so... I face my fourth year university at UCLA, having spent the last one abroad at Edinburgh University. In the midst of my major-identity crisis (Marine Biology?! Anthropology?! Whatever-ology?!) I do pretty much the same stuff I've always done in college: radio and rugby.
Join me as I hate on LA, get reaccustomed to being (and acting as) an American, suffer through my education, get amazing rugby bruises, and basically make a tit of myself on internet radio. It'll be a fun journey, I think. Too bad for you I like to write, otherwise you might not have to suffer through this. I apologize in advance.
And now for something completely different:
You have no soul if you don't at least crack a smile at this.
I'm listening to "The Drugs Don't Work" by The Verve at the moment. Fitting, it seems, given the setting. No amount of drugs could ever make me love this city. (If you can call it a city, that is.)
I'll get to the reasons for my deep-rooted hatred of Angeltown in a later post, but first I'll explain a few of the basics for you so you're not TOTALLY lost when I post, even though chances are you know me. If you don't... how did you get here, you perv? Kidding. Sort of.
Yes, so... I face my fourth year university at UCLA, having spent the last one abroad at Edinburgh University. In the midst of my major-identity crisis (Marine Biology?! Anthropology?! Whatever-ology?!) I do pretty much the same stuff I've always done in college: radio and rugby.
Join me as I hate on LA, get reaccustomed to being (and acting as) an American, suffer through my education, get amazing rugby bruises, and basically make a tit of myself on internet radio. It'll be a fun journey, I think. Too bad for you I like to write, otherwise you might not have to suffer through this. I apologize in advance.
And now for something completely different:
You have no soul if you don't at least crack a smile at this.
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