A long time ago in a galaxy as close as possible to this one (And by a long time ago I mean last week, which is a long time ago if you're a short-lived insect or something. Probably. Unless that's not how time is perceived. Because there's nothing to say that just because a thing lives less time that it perceives it as passing at a different rate. Although it certainly feels as though life passes more quickly as we get older (seasons seem to go by instead of individual months these days)), I fell asleep at 7:00 or 8:00. I had set my alarm for four hours in the future, because I wanted to be awake for Sarah's call from California to hear about her big tests, and I needed to do my laundry before my tournament. I woke up about ten hours later. I'm blaming iOS 7, the new download that made my phone ugly and is obviously conspiring against my alarm. I really need to start looking into these downloads! At least there are good features on this one, like a one-touch access to my flashlight, clock, calculator, volume, wireless, bluetooth, orientation lock, etc. But the display is sort of gross. Anyway, I made a pancake (with a moderate degree of success, still multiple pieces after flipping, but done to the point of deliciousness, and only two or three pieces instead of a million), and got my laundry done. It turned out that the washing machines were much smaller than I'm used to (I wonder if they're trying to make money off of that idea), so I did two loads simultaneously. Then I pulled out all of my stuff that dries quickly on its own and threw the rest in the drier. Then there was a lot of space in the drier. So I threw the rest in too! What a good deal. Two loads of laundry for the price of one drying cycle. Then it came out and it was all a bit damp. So I hauled it all back to my room, turned my fan on, and laid it out all over my bed, drawer handles, baskets, boxes, refrigerator, cupboards, sink, etc. I was particularly proud of one mechanism I devised whereby I looped the drawstring for my shorts through the handle of the refrigerator so it would hang at a different height than the stuff already on there, then stuck a fork through the drawstring to hold it in place, then stuck a pair of underwear on the fork. MacGyver's got nothing on me.

Then I did homework for a couple of hours (briefing cases for constitutional law and wishing I were dead rather than reading civil procedure). Because I was up for so long before class I actually didn't have any trouble staying awake. It was pretty cool. And then when I got back I ate a bunch and slept in the car on the way to the tournament. Oh, and I guess I haven't mentioned that I also played handball on Thursday. I lost a game to Brian, then beat him 21-0. It was pretty epic. He didn't even bother playing a tiebreaker. Then I played with the rest of the players (nobody else was very good, but I played for fun and made sure not to injure myself before my tournament) and called it a night a bit earlier than usual. Then the weekend happened, which I've already talked about. Then today happened, which was pretty typical except I had to decide between staying here and going to a lecture, staying here and not going to a lecture, going home and coming back, going home and studying, or some other options that probably existed. I opted to go home, but then realized I needed to mail my entry for next weekend in, so I wound up leaving so I could get that in the mail before 5:00. I got to eat dinner though, so I arrived set and ready to blog for hours. Then House of Cards got distracting (a guy actually died as the result of politics (and murder, I suppose (probably mostly died of murder))), and it took me a long time to write that last post. And now I'm just cleaning out the notes I've made in my phone since I last posted. With that in mind, here's a machine-gun style account of a few of them:

I bought pork chops the other day. I don't usually buy pork because for some reason the idea of eating pigs is less appealing than the idea of eating cows and chickens. Then it turned out I don't like pork chops. It also turns out they are amazing with asian plum sauce. Go figure. So pork exists only insofar as there is plum sauce in my book. (Hot dogs aren't pork, for the record. They are a category all their own, and they are alternatingly delicious and repulsive. But when I'm in the mood for one, it's fantastic.)

I had a choice between pickle varieties a while ago. There were the classic "Kosher Dills," which I habitually grabbed and put in the receptacle. Then, I saw them. For the exact same PPO (price per ounce, for the less obsessively frugal (and less obsessively acronymistic)), I could purchase Polish Dills. I could not resist. I simply had to know what mystery these pickles held inside their bumpy, yet crispy exteriors. What were the Jewish people afraid of? Or were they simply impolite? My interest was piqued. (Spoiler alert: there is absolutely no difference.)

I was talking to Greg about our backgrounds coming into law. He's from the hard sciences (biomedical engineering), and I'm from the opposite. He said it was annoying how vague things seemed with the law, how there wasn't a right answer, and that frustrated him somewhat. I, on the other hand, find it a relief. The clarity is a fantastic change of pace from philosophy. The judges writing the opinions actively want you to know what they are saying! In philosophy it was a guessing game half the time to even get at the point, much less the conclusion (if there was one). And in philosophy you don't even need to be making "a point." You can simply be making an observation about something in a different way than is conventional, showing a new viewpoint but not drawing conclusions for it/from it yet. In law, they have to give a verdict. There is a reason they use to support their verdict, and they need to be sure they set a clear precedent. So while each side may have a compelling argument, at least there is an outcome! I think that's why I'm finding this so easy (except for civil procedure, which is nothing like philosophy). I walk past my section-mates at least once a day on my way to the library computer lab. They have their own table staked out in the library and there's always at least five of them (though which five varies (except for Elliot)) if not ten studying. Some of them wave, and I come in here for hours, but I haven't cracked a book really. I do almost all my reading either right before class or between classes.Then again, I did bomb that quiz... It's one of those things where you wonder if you should be reevaluating.

In Fargo there was an entire, huge warehouse building that looked sort of weird. Then we drove alongside it and in huge letters it said "CURLING CLUB." There is an entire club for that. In Fargo. I can't decide whether or not to be surprised.

Also in Fargo, there was a Roosevelt Elementary made of old brick walls. It was actually a bit nostalgia-invoking, especially considering the last time I was by my old elementary the play structure had been torn down and the fence had been moved and it didn't look like a place kids should ever want to go.

South Wind

My inhalations deepen
the addictive, fulsome smell
cannot be teased, experienced halfway
after crossing the highway
trading the exhaust of a too-close car
for the mellow yeastiness
of new-brown bread
delivered from the oven
with the care of an obstetrician
cradling its crackled crust
and overwhelmed by its freshness.

I can taste its sweetness
the southern breeze,
which when strong enough,
wings wondrous smells
fresh from the ovens,
released from swinging entrances
one succoring, wheaty, exhalation at a time.
Persistent, refreshing, yet insecure,
at the whim of the wind.

Which can switch back from bread
to bearing the stench of downtown's honking
hideousness
like the bread itself
laced with the smell of honey
departed downtown-bound
in big white trucks
yet whose syrupy reminder molds
on my microwave
uneaten, now inedible.

Some explanation for you and so when I go back and edit I can remember what I was going for:

First stanza:

New-brown bread = new born child
fresh from the mother = oven, easy analogy

second stanza:
focuses on sounds, assonance to mimic wind
experience of being intrigued by the new discovery, fickleness of attraction = direction of wind

Third stanza:
reality check, wind does change, bread shipped elsewhere

I bike back from school every day, and when the wind is out of the south, the bakery smells absolutely amazing. Unfortunately, this amazing smell is also identical to the smell of the bread Rebecca used to make, so it's this crazy association game my nose gets to play every time the wind blows a particular direction. So I wrote the poem as a rough analogy for a few things. It's funny, because bread does go bad in my possession because I don't actually eat it for any of my meals. Breakfast is cold cereal, oatmeal, pancakes, or eggs, lunch is pasta or salad or sometimes a sandwich, but most often skipped, and dinner has no carbs (usually meat and fruit/veggies). So I eat a couple of slices of bread a week. So the bread is both a person and the relationship in the poem. The newly-spawned intrigue of getting to know someone, the insecurity of not knowing what's coming, but the deliciousness of anticipation, and the eventual death as it rots away in my possession. Needs work, but hey, it's one less note in my phone. Thanks for reading!