Holiday Weekend

Dear Journal,

What a weekend! Friday Schno and I had a yard sale to get rid of some of our junk. We didn't get rid of much, but we did have a nice afternoon sitting out on the futon in the middle of the sidewalk for the whole afternoon taking in the sun and doing crosswords. We also had three parties to go to, but only made it to two because one was busted. It was a nice night. Kinda mellow.

Saturday we went to Beulah's and she took us to The Christmas Tree Store. It was fantastic. So much cheap randomness. Just seasonal overstock for the uninitiated. I bought some potato chips, bowl noodles, crackers, and a kite. Still have yet to fly it. It's pretty hot out and windless. That night the Lush came to town and we hung out in the courtyard because she was inexplicably hot the entire time. Later I went over to the Q where they were having a nice, lowkey get-together.

Yesterday we had a party. After midnight rolled around and half the confirmed guests hadn't shown, I did some sleuthing on my own and broke up a whole other party singlehandedly shutting down the music and ushering the guests over to my place. It turned out to be a blast. I kind of went crazy and became party nazi, but I had to kick it into high gear. So began Senior Week. Plenty more debauchery to come.

Today is Memorial Day. We were going to have a cookout at Huey's new place, but that would involve buying a grill and buying food, so instead we're going to go to a barbeque restaurant near his place and hopefully for a movie after.

Oh, and I got a job working with Beulah this summer as a counselor for an international summer program. Should be a blast! Thanks again, Beulah.

Passive Aggression...

...must be answered with Aggressive Passion.

That is all.

D.O.N.E.

Well, my undergraduate career is over. As Hawk Harrelson says, "You can put it on the board, YES!" Speaking of, I really relish the talk flying in the Chicago press about how the Sox and Cubs aren't even rivals anymore because there's nothing contested. We won and are doing a helluva job defending, and the Cubs, well, maybe the Cubs should be competing in a league in which they can actually win. You know, a league for little people. A Little League.

Anyway, I'm fat and lazy now. It's amazing the free time I have. Sure, I'm applying for jobs. We'll see how it turns out. Right now it feels like I'm running a sprint, trying desperately to get employment before my final coupla weeks here are up and poof, I find myself back in Indiana. Although, being in Chicago would have its advantages. First off, I have a sizeable friend base. Family. And most importantly, I wouldn't have to watch MLB Gameday which is just terribly boring.

Finishing was the biggest adrenaline rush of my life.

Right now, Wudle and I both have prospects for jobs in NYC, but we're knocking on wood until our fingers bleed.

The Return of Hot Pocket

So my oral exam was today. Johnny Mac and I were completely expecting not to get Hot Pocket as an examiner. But lo and behold he was. And boy did he have some whoppers in his arsenal. To friends I've described the experience as playing tennis...against Venus Williams...armed only with a paddleball racquet. It was a harrowing experience, and Hot Pocket had an inclination toward very specific questions with right and wrong answers that I was not expecting. Here's a smattering:

Was Walt Whitman an abolitionist?
Is Song of Myself an abolitionist text?
Who coined the term "Lost Generation"?
Where does it appear in this topic?
What denomination was the minister Elmer Gantry?
Where was David Walker born?
Where was Phillis Wheatley when she wrote her poems?

It was rough. I walked out of the exam feeling like I'd been run over by a train. I have no idea how I did, but I'm kind of proud of myself for weathering such a tumultuous storm. Let's just say that I began the exam with perfect posture and ended slumped over to one side in my chair with a spine as crooked as the accusatory question marks lobbed at me throughout the hour.

Allergies

A coupla weeks ago at work I was hacking or something and wondering aloud why I was still sick when I seemed to have kicked the awful cold that plagued me. At this point, Beulah gave a reasonable explanation that, although I believed it, somewhat rejected. "I can't have allergies" I told myself. I've never had allergies. I've always kind of scoffed whenever I've heard people talk about their allergies. But it turns out I do, in fact, have allergies. Yesterday after Arts First I was walking into Boston for half price burgers with Bighead when I could not stop sneezing and my nose was running fierce. Finally, I admitted that I indeed have allergies. On my way back, my left eye really started to itch, then burn. And finally I got home and looked in the mirror to see what a mess my eye was. It was bloodshot, as Grandma would say, and a part of what looked like my tear duct was grossly inflamed.

Last night was the QBall and Friday was the last night of parties at Harvard. Both were amazingly fun. Unbelievably fun. Tomorrow I have my orals.

The Question

Our commencement speaker is Jim Lehrer, a man who makes vanilla look spicy. (Hat tip if you know someone who actually thinks vanilla actually CAN be spicy. Schno, I'm looking in your direction.)

So in honor of Lehrer and his long history of presidential debate moderation, I've come up with what I believe to be the greatest question ever. Ask it and watch the hair fly. It's very simple, and anyone with an ounce of formal education knows the answer to it. But in answering it, you can just see politicians try to finesse their way around it in order to not alienate the southern vote. So here it is:

Was the Civil War fought because of slavery or states' rights?

Wammo. It's so deceptively loaded. Can you risk the alienation of so many people who still by the states' rights mumbo jumbo in order to speak the truth? Could you imagine any kid learning elementary history slap his forhead as some pol tries to finesse his way around it? Or am I just being a little ridiculous. I realize that a lot of people in the South think that it was fought over the slavery issue. But at the same time, I've also encountered a lot of people in the last couple of weeks who have spoken about their peculiar history classes in the South. A black girl in my class said that in elementary school she would actually feel herself rooting for the Confederacy until she slapped herself and awakened herself from the romantic vapors of revisionist history.