Today, I braved the traffic and frightful parking lots of North Campus. Hauled my pasty, readily-sunburnable ass across town in the beating sun just for the company. I played hookie for the sake of it. Took a road whose destination I couldn’t guess, just to see if I could shave a minute off my trip — or if it would even take me where I wanted to go at all. (I couldn’t and it didn’t.) I made a promise that I knew was for my own good even though I’d rather have weaseled my way out of it. Bared my
If you’ve ever wondered that question aloud to yourself, you’re not alone. Every time I hear the question, “So what’s your major?” it’s usually followed by something like “Oh. Um… what do you do with that?” Well, mostly I talk about nerdy English things. Oh, you mean what I can do — like, for a career? After school is over? I dunno; I try not to think about that too much. For now, it’s all 100% theory and 0% practicality. English majors love to theorize and ponder and read way too deeply into everything. We love to wonder about fictional stuff
WordPress — like, I imagine, most blog-writing software — uses categories for grouping posts. On day one, before I’d even written anything yet, I set up a whole list of categories for all the things I thought I’d write about. Some never got used and ended up in the trash bin, or lumped together with others when I realized I’d hardly ever use them on their own. Only one, though, has sat there intact but unused, just waiting for its day in the sun: “Dev Diary.” Today, I checked the Dev Diary category off for the first time — for
In less than a week, I’m going to be back here. In this place, right up there. Or somewhere nearby. I’m not sure I have any classes in Coburn this semester… but you get the idea. I’ve written about this place once or twice. Made reference to it when I took some photos near the campus. But I’ve never come out straight-up and said it, so here it is for posterity: This is UMass Lowell, where I go to school, and this is one of my favorite places on Earth. For a year now, I’ve made my home-away-from-home here —
It’s that time of year. Well, one of those that times. Time for a reset. The stress of research papers, exams, final projects distracts you enough not to really see it coming. Then, suddenly, it’s right there staring you in the face: the end. The end for now, anyway. Did you have the chance to say goodbye to everyone you met over the semester? To throw a thank you at the professors who inspired you and really taught you something? To just take in the atmosphere of the campus, the place — the community — that you won’t be a
Sir William — Though ‘t be but pitiful mockery, I do In semblance of thy tongue address thee: Thou surely knowst my love for thee; All curses upon thy name uttered of late In heart of imprudence. Yet, hark — for others inquire in earnest: Sons and daughters of this, the Digital Age — They hath no remembrance of thee; or else decry thy “relevance” And hold as common relics thy work. But peace! Thy canon is great, ’tis certainty. Yet must I with pain admit: disquiet akin to this Have I voiced in weakness, among trusted allies: “Thousands of
Presently, this is my great dilemma. More accurately, actually, my struggle is whether I should quit Facebook or not, but “To Quit Facebook or Not to Quit Facebook” wasn’t as catchy a title. A friend of mine has already written a much more eloquent post on this subject, and if the title doesn’t give it away, he went with the second option. (Also, since he will undoubtedly notice the pingback (or whatever it’s called) from this post and since he wasn’t aware of this blog previously: Hello, Mr. Watson. Yes, it is I.) Where was I? Right — I think,
Over the weekend, I took a break from the rigors of college to get grilled on something even more challenging: first grade sentence completion and math equations. I had a pretty tough teacher but I think I did well, all things considered. Did I mention my niece is one of my favoritest people in the world?
I saw a girl who looked just like you. Really — just the same. I’ll set the scene for you. It was in the cafeteria, and she was sitting at that computer on the far right. At that school we used to go to, where I first saw you. I know, it’s like ancient history. She had hair that perfect shade of brown. Just like yours. Glasses, too; you know I’m a sucker for glasses. She wore dress pants and a blazer some days, all serious business. Other times, those baggy jeans: the kind that are so ungirly that they
Hey, futurites! Would you look at that? We made it to 2013! You can tell 2013 is the future just by looking at the number. Doesn’t it look weird? Feels weird to say, too. And I don’t just mean the kind of weird where you’re not used to it being the next year, so you keep saying and writing the previous one by mistake. Is it just me? 2013. It looks sci-fi… like the sort of year you’d set your science fiction story if you wanted it to take place in the future but not the future future. You know?