Talking About Crap

Yes, I realize I've been hypocritical lately by criticizing other's blog neglect while simultaneously avoiding my own, so don't say it. "What's new," you ask? Oh, nuthin. Just chillin. Slept a bunch today, then woke up and got busy reading for anthropology. Keith, who came up to read from my textbook for our test tomorrow, pointed out that I didn't have the right textbook. Stupid me assumed that there could only be one book called "Talking About People: Readings in Contemporary Cultural Anthropology," when clearly this isn't the case. I said, "shit shit...shit shit" and proceeded to find a course of action. I ended up contacting maggie at dinner and getting claire's book, which I was only supposed to have until Claire returned to the suite (which gave me 40 minutes), but when I went to return it, nobody was at the door. I threw some snowballs at the windows of their suite, but nobody answered (maybe because I was throwing them at the wrong windows). So, after careful consideration, I decided it was too cold to be hatless and stand outside in the snowing atmosphere, so I returned and finished reading. Due to this, I finished the reading, and I'm satisfied. Now, all I have to do is take my test in that class, then another in Economics, and maybe I'll go to some other classes as well, maybe not. My emotion of the present is "ugh," so I don't feel like writing anything dramatic, insightful, et cetera. I will, however, for lack of anything better to offer, provide you with a poem I wrote during an English class. Here was the assignment: Jane and Sam are in ___ Park in ___ City. Suddenly, someone runs by and successfully grabs Jane's purse. Rewrite the moment as a poem, varying length, enjambled lines, and end-stopped lines.

The man-that man!
He's got my purse!
My jaw dropped as said thief ran.

Sam chased him around the block;
there was no telling when they'd stop.
I, of course, sat back and watched,
'cause I'm a no-good, fat biotch.

Then, I witnessed, from afar
Sam got run the hell over by a car.
I began to laugh then realized it was mean
so I glanced to see if I had been seen.

With Sam down, I faked a frown,
and made chase after the no-good clown
who had taken my purse, though nothing was inside:
my gun I carried by my side.

The neighborhood I knew quite well.
I lead my shot and heard him yell.
He dragged his shot-up leg away.
Had he returned my purse yet? Nay.

I stalked his blood trail (b/c I could)
and followed deftly through the 'hood.
Soon, I caught him, face to face
and then used, on him, my mace.

At this point he could not see.
I danced around in utter glee.
Rather than leave him on the ground,
I had all his hands and feet bound.

I then tied him to my truck.
I heard him yelling "WTF!!"
Sam found me soon, he was okay
and that's what happened, yesterday.

As you can see, it's not exactly what she asked for, but I tried...sort of. Sorry about the violence, but that's what came to me within the 30 minute span of writing time. Anyway, the poetry unit is over with. I do feel I came away from it with a greater respect for poetry, but that's about it. Anything else? Not really. I've been thinking a bit deeper lately, perhaps as a result of my exposure to Psychology and Anthropology, both of which I find interesting, so maybe one day soon I will provide you with my thoughts. Until I do, stay out of trouble, or if you don't, tell me about it so I may have something interesting to ponder.