It is with guilt that I return to Blogger with an actual post and not a couple lines or a photo. I should really consider being more loyal to posting, but I find myself with no time to spare. Funny, though, how I can spare some time here and there to do meaningless things like check facebook/Myspace, but I can't take time to produce any sort of material myself.
I'll catch you up a few things here and there and hopefully soon posting will again be habitual, as long as there are things to write about. (Isn't it weird that I'm basically telling you I feel obligated to post, when I am bound by nothing to do so? This is not an assignment, but it sure can feel like it. Terrible. It's like reading my Chinese history book. The process isn't fun but I love the result.)
I finally and excitedly clicked the button on my screen that sent my OSU application in. I have also arranged for my transcripts to be sent. Ah, yes, it is about time. However, being a step closer to having nothing to do with Otterbein has exacerbated the problem of me not studying. Who knew that I actually could train myself to not care about my grades? It has happened. My Western Civ professor just might have been BFF with Stalin at some point in time. I can't keep up with things and it would be unhealthy to force myself to. (Besides the Modern Asia class, which is a lot of work but who isn't motivated by East Asia?)
The pole outside my front bedroom window across the street was on fire this afternoon. I returned from hanging out with Micah at Starbucks to find the neighbors all rustled up about something. Michelle said there was much talk about the fire department overheard from the street below. I opened my window and yelled to the guy standing outside of the dry cleaners asking him what was up (what was he staring so intently at) and he informed me of the blaze. Sure enough, the smell that had been lingering in the air for quite awhile (or so the dry cleaning empolyees say) was due to the electrical frenzy twenty feet up. (Twenty feet? I really don't know. Not really a measurement girl, the eyes don't work that way. How many parentheses can I include in this paragraph? More, likely.) I hurried down the back steps to join the informative and entranced man in the alley with Michelle and Austin, and we watched as the firemen/parks&rec guys/policemen/who were they really? closed down Main St., donned Rubber sleeves, and jumped into a large box to join the fire in all its height.
"You might want to step back, we're spraying powder and the wind will carry it," one of the men nearby told us. By powder I believe he meant the sort that a fire extinguisher contained? I don't know, I guess I figured a man in the business would call it something more technical. Oh, you know, his statement sounding more like, "You might want to step back, we're spraying Alfinium Carbosic and the wind will carry it."
What Alfinium Carbosic is, or if it even exists, is far beyond me. We stepped back a little, and eventually ended up where we stood originally. I'm not sure if interest in the hype brought us back to our places or if the powder stopped flying around, but we hung out for a good while there in that alley. By the time the powder had been let loose, and water poured down the pole, the top of the structure had already been burnt up, blackened and shedding its dead chips. The rubber clothed men in the large box in the air were soon joined by others like themselves on the other side of the pole, and a chainsaw that meant business. They cut off the dead part of the pole and after a long process of adding new wood and probably some drilling, the commotion was over. I sped up this process for you though. I can assure you it was at least two hours. (Note: I didn't stick around for that long)
I got a photo or two from the alley. Here they are:
(Fellow onlooker)
Have you ever read
The Pact by Jodi Piccoult? It's really emotional but really great. Well Sarah Peet recorded it when she saw it in the form of a movie on tv, and Kim is bringing it over right now. I just miss Emily a lot. Christopher is so innocent too, and Emily, she just couldn't take it anymore. Okay, enough reminiscing about the characters that Piccoult makes me believe are so real, and certainly my friends.
[We have to do a book review for my Social Inequalities class, and since Barbara Enrenreich is funny, and
Nickel and Dimed was (mostly) great, I think I'm going to read
Bait and Switch! Oh Barbara.
(Remember how earlier I said the process of reading my Chinese book isn't fun but I like the result? Well, writing this entry was fun, so maybe I take it all back.)
[edit: The Pact by Lifetime was the worst movie ever.]
