youth is a passing thing
I'm feeling bizarrely sad. The basement of McCabe isn't helping matters. Neither is the flourescent light or the chai I bought to get the taste of onions out of my mouth after 3 pieces of Belgian chocolate didn't do the trick. Even so I'm reluctant to return to my room, having ventured out for the purpose of doing homework (in which purpose I've been thwarted by the library gods) because i don't want to not-find ben there. i know in my head i'll not-find ben there; i'll find sex and the city: season 4, which will be a comfort, but not a ben-sized comfort.
at least my class today was good. last week i chose to crawl under the table and shoot myself rather than listen to the prof continue to ramble on about the cosby show, attractive v. unattractive female movie stars, cave paintings, and the like. it's supposed to be a screenwriting workshop for god's sake. he was treating it like a 3-hour marathon comedy special. even chris rock doesn't get 3 hours.
today was better. today at least we discussed movies. or, well, he talked for the vast majority of the time. maybe my standards have fallen precipitously. but he talked about the movies we were supposed to have seen; that's something. he said intelligent albeit uncited things, things he could have stolen from any number of people -- still, worthwhile, interesting things. it's nearly impossible to copywrite ideas anyway.
incidentally the gender genie determined from the above entry that i'm female -- barely. there was a 3 point difference in my scores. my use of "the"s nearly pushed me to the other side: apparently "the" is a typical masculine word. "but" is a typically feminine one.
maybe it's best to simply marvel at the genie and not bother trying to understand the underlying logical principles. maybe that's a typical feminine response. but!
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