Monday, February 12, 2007

The eternal darkness and cold is wearing on me. Today I started planning my garden—it is one of the few things that can make me forget that I live in a place I hate for 1/3 of the year.

I plan on having a splendiferous garden, full of heirloom vegetables and herbs and flowers and magic! Well, maybe not magic. But I certainly plan on buying the plastic molds in the shape of president’s heads so I can grow some Nixon and Carter tomatoes. Que indĂ­gena?

I have spent the last couple of days at work (ugh) and translating and IPA-ing some Swedish texts for my Sibelius set. PS, the Swedish chef on the muppets was not an exaggeration.

Also I am highly anticipating the arrival of my Jacques LeGuerney CD, and a tape of songs called “Reality Sandwiches” (text by Ginsberg).

Tomorrow portends my doom: 2.5 hours of class, a voice lesson, 5 hours of work, 2 hours of tutoring. Although judging by the (seemingly representative) mouth-breathing, intellectual tundra girl who is incapable of fathoming analogies that sits in front of us in class; i.e, “how can you make that comparison, a mousetrap isn’t even alive”—my evolution test tomorrow morning should be a breeze.

1 comment:

"the" Mrs. Astor said...

You NEED magic. I picture you as Pan on a moon-lit night; Craiger watching you like as werewolf from the bushes.