Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Yesterday I completed or at least began everything, with the exception of the diet log. I am probably the lone person who attends weight training class regularly and is nevertheless failing it, due to never having turned in the assignments. I always either forget them or purposefully neglect them. I am anti-gym class.
I am also anti-Trojan-War-Seminar-paper-writing. I did write most of the paper, but it stands as a rather uninformative, rambling piece of work that I am not at all proud to attach my name to. My in-class presentation will as well consist of fragmentary knowledge, but interspersed with odd Internet pictures.
Last night I attended the ΦΚΦ induction ceremony, on whose recipient list I recognized the names of thirteen people with whom I am acquainted in varying degrees. I sat with a friend from my German classes, Amber, who was nominated by the Honors College to receive the incoming Graduate Student scholarship.
I, dressed in a 1970s blue polyester bowling shirt and black JNCOs, was definitely the chic-est person attending. Everyone else dressed up. I had considered changing into something slightly more formal, but I had just awoken from a nap, I had a pounding headache, and I simply wasn't thinking clearly. When my name was called, I walked ten paces, shook the Chapter President's hand, thanked him for the honor of being inducted, took my certificate and pin thingy, and retraced the steps to my seat.
The remainder of the time I spent staring at the spinach-artichoke dip and crackers left on my plate, debating about whether it would be prudent to finish them while other people were being summoned forth. I took the mint tea glass in my hand once and felt severely guilty. Fortunately, before names were being called I had finished the three tiny but delectable meatballs I had tonged onto my saucer- they were muy bueno. I normally find egg rolls unsatisfying, but I had taken one nevertheless in order that I might dissect it if I became utterly bored. Again, I was spared the mild embarassment of appearing puerile, for I bit into it and liked the flavours enough to finish it off, which I believe was the object of its having been cooked.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 1:50 PM]