tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-34295062011-04-21T18:48:35.721-05:00MargaretvilleBack in action on the interwebs...Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comBlogger1671100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1061709682194305932003-08-24T02:21:00.000-05:002003-08-24T12:54:29.980-05:00My thesis was in the news this week. Well, not in so many words, but it was there under the guise of other stories, namely a black supremacist religion and the Alabama Supreme Court. Luckily, I had my eyes peeled.
The first story points to the broadening definition of religion, and although I'm trying to focus on the Supreme Court's language, this case presents a relevant dilemma: what's a Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1061439154441692742003-08-20T23:12:00.000-05:002003-08-20T23:12:34.470-05:00Not for the faint of heart.
I bet you're thinking, "Gee, Mags, it's been an awfully long time since you've enumerated the ways in which you and Jon Stewart have a real and special relationship." Well funny you should mention that. Tonight, The Daily Show welcomed the crossword puzzle editor from the Times. Fact: Jon Stewart liked crosswords. Fact part II: I too like crosswords. This is not a Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1061158934906816542003-08-17T17:22:00.000-05:002003-08-17T17:22:14.960-05:00Ah! The Karate Kid has a kid!Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1060992695162637152003-08-15T19:11:00.000-05:002003-08-15T19:11:31.383-05:00Did I get caught in the blackout? Oh boy, you better believe it. A little after 4, the lights started fucking around in my office. A few seconds later, the power went out--I was on a laptop, so it took me a second before I realized what was up. Then we noticed that the lights wereout across the street, too. People started opening windows and shouting to each other; no one was sure what was going Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1060551624164901902003-08-10T16:40:00.000-05:002003-08-10T16:40:24.073-05:00Attn: Bravo Channel
Re: Hiring
Dear Bravo Channel,
It seems that you're using my tastes to dictate your programming. Today, for example, you have scheduled several episodes of The West Wing, which--as evidenced by my Friendster profile--is my favorite show. Later this evening, you will air The American President, followed by key episodes of Inside The Actor's Studio; again, this are Margaret favsMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1060315894868536242003-08-07T23:11:00.000-05:002003-08-07T23:11:34.893-05:00I haven't been to the beach yet this summer. Let's hope that changes this weekend. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1060232351948264382003-08-06T23:59:00.000-05:002003-08-06T23:59:11.803-05:00You know what bartenders and bouncers love? Cake. Do they ever. Stephanie, Evelyn and I celebrated our respective 21sts in style: with cake and presents at our bar. I had a fabulous time in Chicago, and after being home sick yesterday, I'm having a hard time getting back in the so-called grove. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1059715962333830612003-08-01T00:32:00.000-05:002003-08-06T23:42:08.773-05:00My older sis was bummed that I didn't brag about the skateboard she got me. I bet you're wondering what I'd do with a skateboard; admittedly, I had the same thought, especially because it didn't come with wheels. Wha? No wheels? Novices! You have to buy the wheels separate from the deck--check it out, I'm picking up the lingo. Anyway, my fine board is for decorative use only, but it is dope as Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1059370719431866582003-07-28T00:38:00.000-05:002003-07-28T00:38:39.360-05:00The rumors are true--the queen of Margaretville is officially of age. I turned the big two-one on Saturday, and the sort of standard revelry ensued, if slightly tamer than one might expect. In short, an excellent time was had by all. We're going to celebrate in earnest next weekend in Chicagoland, along with Steph and E-po who turn 21 on August 3. Mark your calendars now.
My little brother and IMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1058839953476184382003-07-21T21:12:00.000-05:002003-07-21T21:12:33.540-05:00I saw Michael Showalter at Starbucks today. For those of you who aren't good with b-list celebrities, that's Coop from Wet Hot American Summer. I was pretty excited, but way too star-struck to say anything. Next time, Mr. Showalter, your grande iced latte is on me. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1058499361186285342003-07-17T22:36:00.000-05:002003-07-20T14:29:58.030-05:00Her cat ate corn?!
In other news, Aaron actually said this to me today (on IM): Hey, I invented this great way to multiply big numbers using quadratic polynomials.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1058337569484234562003-07-16T01:39:00.000-05:002003-07-16T01:39:29.420-05:00As your resident TV guru, I feel compelled to make some summertime viewing recommendations. No one watches more TV than I do, even during these hectic full-time-job days, so read and learn, novice couch potatoes.
Summer is the perfect time for watching shows in syndication to whom you would otherwise be unable to dedicate yourself. Case in point: Felicity. I have grown *obsessed* with this show, Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1057926482104815772003-07-11T07:28:00.000-05:002003-07-11T07:28:02.153-05:00Really quick before I jett to Boston and Vermont: it's not cool to konk someone with a bat just because she's wearing a sausage costume. That's just fucked up. And fining that douche bag $432 isn't that big a deal--I think a public address in which he announces "I'm everything that's wrong with professional sports" is in order.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1057546008513073042003-07-06T21:46:00.000-05:002003-07-06T21:47:01.080-05:00Wow, people have been so so helpful with the links: gracias to Kristy, Aaron and Andy for their helpful and timely advice. You guys rule.
I was channel surfing today--if you can believe it--and I came across that dumbass show on the Food Network where an annoying woman goes to some city and eats in restaurants for $40 a day. $40? That is so much money! Like, that would be a good show if it was 40Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1057440622189087882003-07-05T16:30:00.000-05:002003-07-06T03:17:15.660-05:00Margaretville is sporting an electroclash look for the summer. I trial-end-error changed colors on a blogger template until I got close to the look I was going for, but if anyone knows how to make links *not* in orange, let me know. By e-mail--Margie Golightly at hotmail dot com, all one word. I did away with the comments because no one ever really left me any, and they were sort of a hassle.
My Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1057190140044440392003-07-02T18:55:00.000-05:002003-07-02T18:55:39.920-05:00Best e-mail ever:
i have four words for you: dus, ty, diamond, softball. i cost me $1.99 in
bridgeport.
i hope all is going well. later. from Mike
Dusty Diamond Softball is just about the best Nintendo game ever, so whenever talk of NES surfaces, I always make a point to recommend Dusty D. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1056781179063044392003-06-28T01:19:00.000-05:002003-06-28T01:19:39.056-05:00Whew, I finished my first full week at work, and in all honesty, I have never been better hydrated. I get up to get a cup of water about 15 times a day. Bored? Get some water. Cranky? Wash that mood down with some cool, refreshing agua. Sleepy? Enjoy the invigorating properties of aych-two-oh. Butt asleep? That three-foot walk to the cooler will do you some good. All day. Which isn't to say that Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1056511676012226052003-06-24T22:27:00.000-05:002003-07-08T21:09:02.690-05:00I had a weird morning. I wanted to write about it right away, but something told me blogging on your like, second day of work was frowned upon. Hm. I rode the train in early with my old sister--weirdness: 1) don't usually take early trains 2) older sister doesn't usually live at home. It was pleasant, despite our looking like freaky clones of each other. Then at Grand Central I ran into a friend Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1056303638361503292003-06-22T12:40:00.000-05:002003-06-22T12:40:38.400-05:00I'm a big fan of post-it note art. (via Jeff Jarvis)
I got the new Harry Potter book yesterday, which explains why I'm so sleepy right now. I intended to read a few pages before going to sleep last night, but next thing I knew, it's 5 a.m. and I've gone through about 100 pages. It's going to be a pain in the ass lugging this book to work, but at this rate, it'll only be for two or three days. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1056146719666040512003-06-20T17:05:00.000-05:002003-06-20T17:05:19.650-05:00OK, last night pretty much ruled. Garth and I had a blast at the 601am/Gothamist party--bloggers, fotologgers, I met all kinds of internet celebrities. I made a complete herb out of myself for David Gallagher, EShepard, KDunk (to whom I'm, like, related), Nick Denton, Aaron Bailey...the list pretty much goes on and on. Holy shit. I was a tool-and-a-half last night, but how often do I get to meet Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1055963447083960172003-06-18T14:10:00.000-05:002003-06-18T14:10:47.156-05:00This makes *two* posts the new blogger has eaten. My road trip with Nora and my dad was, as expected, awesome. I'm back in the 'dale, sleeping and watching t.v. before heading back to work on Friday. Blegh.
I'm so excited I could pee.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-1055560302156304212003-06-13T22:11:00.000-05:002003-06-13T22:11:42.160-05:00Woah! New blogger interface! Very nice.
To quote an e-mail I got from Amelia, "So I'm done with finals, and you see these tears? They're tears of
fucking joy." Amen, dude, amen. I am DONE with third year; all that remains now is packing my shit up and moving my shit out. I think I can live with that. I churned out nine pages yesterday, starting at 11.30 a.m. and finishing before 5.15. Not. Too. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-955375132003-06-11T00:30:00.000-05:002003-06-11T00:30:12.240-05:00Kind of sucks.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-955215022003-06-10T16:00:00.000-05:002003-06-10T16:00:28.056-05:00I know Friendster is supposed to be stupid or whatever, but I spent all of yesterday afternoon dicking around with it. I'm not sure that the site is actually good for what it claims to be good for--meeting people--but as far as wasting a lot of time and being sort of stalkerish goes, well, Friendster hit the jackpot. So who wants an invite?
I saw a guy in the coffee shop today wearing what Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-954850022003-06-09T18:29:00.000-05:002003-06-10T15:38:43.000-05:00I'm going to make myself extremely unpopular for the next few days, but I can't resist announcing that I have an absurdly easy finals week. I had my algebra final today, and now all that's left is my Abraham Lincoln paper, which needs to tip the scales at a big six pages. Rock.
For whatever reason, campus was swarming today with little kids--really little, like nursery school age. Walking home Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-954427142003-06-08T19:40:00.000-05:002003-06-08T19:40:27.113-05:00Not to be behind the times, but I only recently got to look through the American Film Institute's list of the top 50 heroes and villans. On the one hand, the list is OK. Atticus Finch? Check. Hannibal Lector? Sure. But is it reasonable that Lassie (39)--THE DOG--outranks Moses (43)--THE GUY IN THE BIBLE? Also, it's kind of weird to include real people (including Erin Brockovich, Gandhi, George Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-954090932003-06-07T12:27:00.000-05:002003-06-07T12:27:55.603-05:00I have an algebra final on Monday (it's going to be ugga) so my T.A. held a review session yesterday at 3. Only I thought it was at 4.30. I went to her office, which is in a basement enclave in the Opera Studies building (don't ask) rather than the math building. Needless to say, she wasn't in her office when I got there. Her office is in a suite with other math graduate students' offices around,Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-953427302003-06-05T15:56:00.000-05:002003-06-05T15:56:13.210-05:00A final letter concerning Hildegard: my analysis was "finely nuanced" and I showed a "real understanding" of the material. Bitches.
Some folks over at Fotolog are going a little crazy go nuts about the new "golden camera" shtick. (Feel free to check out my flog and the Maroon's flog.) My favorite comment has to be "fair share? Do you know what "Share" means? nobady must be forced to share. Be Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-952728062003-06-04T01:25:00.000-05:002003-06-04T01:25:40.586-05:00I woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. Although, as Ilana put it, "it's hard to wake up on the right side when you only got in it at 4:30." Fair enough. I'm sleepy today, so sleepy that I'm confused and stupid, unable to do anything but surf the internet and watch some t.v. with Evelyn. Where I, of course, fell asleep.
*I still need someone to sublet. Dope roommates, private bathroom, Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-952114492003-06-02T18:17:00.000-05:002003-06-02T18:17:43.993-05:00Dear Hildegard,
Fuck you.
cheers,
Margaret
The paper clocked in at a cool ten pages. It's been handed in, never to be thought of again...until I take a final about it on Thursday. AT 8:30 IN THE MORNING. My interview thing (which wasn't a real interview, it was more of a meeting) with Teach For America was awesome; the woman was really cool and she seemed to like me a lot. She said my questions Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-951838712003-06-02T04:02:00.000-05:002003-06-02T04:02:21.450-05:00You know what's cool about nuns from the 12th century? Yeah? Neither do I. From what I can tell, just about nothing. I've typed the word "virgin" so many times that I can barely tell what it means anymore. I've run out of synonyms for "hierarchy" and have grown weary of the words "virtue" and "dwell." I am going to be one unpleasant version of myself tomorrow. Consider yourselves warned.
BurningMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-951816362003-06-02T02:07:00.000-05:002003-06-02T02:07:17.653-05:00OK, timestamps are still messed up, but it is now 2 a.m. and there is only one explanation for the smell: someone is changing diapers here in the basement of the Reg. This sort of acrid and lingering smell pretty much only comes from babies. Specifically, their butts. Now, I don't see any babies down here, and if there is one, it's extraordinarily quiet. It's either a baby or a frat boy...but Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-951797732003-06-02T00:50:00.000-05:002003-06-02T00:50:27.240-05:00Ah! Girl with the coke nails and meat dumpings is BACK SITTING NEAR ME at the library. I find this unacceptable.
Word count: 1446, but I took a break, did a little more reading and am now finding it a little difficult to get back into my paper rhythym. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-951777792003-06-01T23:46:00.000-05:002003-06-01T23:46:23.563-05:001,294 words, biznotch! That means I clocked over 600 words in the last hour or so (my time stamps are all fucked up, but right now it's 11.35.) I'm not included words that I typed in e-mails, or these words, or words I typed into the searchable bible (which is extremely dope) or names I typed into googlism. No, boys and girls, I am only counting words I typed about Hildegard. Here's a choice Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-951742062003-06-01T21:51:00.000-05:002003-06-01T21:51:36.240-05:00After a sort of long dinner break with Aaron and E-Po (who are also working on papers due in the immediate future), I stand now at 640 words, or approximately one-fifth of my paper. If you've ever wondered about the mystic Hildegard's letters to popes, and specifically how those letters contrast with her letters to nuns and monks, then this is the paper for you. Also, that's pretty sad.
I'm into Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-951665002003-06-01T17:46:00.000-05:002003-06-01T17:46:51.063-05:00Efficient bullet points:
•I'm thinking about getting a domain. Unfortunately, Margaretville dot com, org and net are all taken by the town of Margaretville. Margaret dot com, org and net appear to be porn. I am now accepting suggestions.
•My Hildegard paper is underway. So far I have a scorching 77 words (but they're really smart, trust me), and something tells me there will be several updates Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-950505372003-05-29T16:04:00.000-05:002003-05-29T16:09:34.000-05:00This article is pretty much bullshit. Its premise is that geniuses—although the author seems to mean extremely smart people in general—are social freakshows who can't function well in a standard corporate environment. Apparently, “one third of high-performing employees lack certain ‘emotional competencies’—such as the ability to build a team or control their emotions in high-stress situations.” Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-949684692003-05-27T21:22:00.000-05:002003-05-28T10:42:43.000-05:00Spring is in there air here in Chicagoland, and that can only mean one thing: nerd licking. Lots and lots of nerd licking. You know it when you see it--perhaps outside the library, perhaps on the quads, perhaps the evening-route D bus--and you ought to be pretty disturbed. From some complex scientific analysis, I have deduced that nerds beget nerds, who inevitably "punch their weight" and lick Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-948900112003-05-26T03:55:00.000-05:002003-05-26T22:49:42.000-05:00OK, loads of updates today, but really quick before I go to bed: I track how people get to Margaretville, and every so often, people search Google and Yahoo for some sort of weird shit and wind up here. But this one pretty much takes the cake (young audiences avert your eyes): someone searched Yahoo for i hurt my ass so bad so my teacher gave me a massage and stuck her finger in my ass and went Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-948821412003-05-25T22:45:00.000-05:002003-05-26T22:50:41.000-05:00Oh, day of unproductivity, how quickly you flew by. Attempt numero uno at working: go to the library and find books. I accomplished this much but then felt that I deserved a break. So I took a wee library nap, which left me feeling skeezy and embarrassed for no real reason. Then I decided I needed to switch libraries, but instead of doing that, I ran into Frank and convinced him that we needed toMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-948765402003-05-25T19:47:00.000-05:002003-05-25T19:48:22.000-05:00When I was in India, I wrote a lot about riding in autorickshaws. Here is a great picture of one, courtesy of a fotologger in Pune.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-947530222003-05-22T15:27:00.000-05:002003-05-22T15:31:19.000-05:00I think I have a disease. It's getting pretty serious actually. I'm in this weird funk where I can't quite do anything, but it's not quite the same thing as laziness. This afternoon I wanted to change my clothes before I came back to campus--I ran out in a hurry this morning, but I wanted to bust out some clean spring duds after doing laundry. Like I said, I have this disease. So changing my Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-945959592003-05-19T15:00:00.000-05:002003-05-19T15:00:40.916-05:00Look who's going to El Salvador...oh, me. Rock. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-944154742003-05-15T17:41:00.000-05:002003-05-16T15:57:33.000-05:00Diane Herrmann is my new best friend. I know I said I wasn't a math concentrator any more, but I'm having some serious second thoughts. For now, I am again. Or at least a math minor, a new facet to the department that might be unveiled for next year.
At today's meeting, Paul Sally (who doesn't have a link) came in late and sat at the table in the front. Professor Sally is something of a Chicago Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-943570372003-05-14T18:45:00.000-05:002003-05-14T18:45:30.370-05:00Two middle aged, slightly dumpy-looking Midwesterners (her: tapered jeans, sensible Easy Spirit footwear; him: sport coat over a t-shirt) were walking towards me on my way to campus this afternoon. They looked to be having a relatively pleasant conversation and were sharing an umbrella. But as I got close--and I'm horribly nosy, so I'm always eavesdropping--the woman said to the man, "Look, it's Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-941408902003-05-11T03:45:00.000-05:002003-05-11T03:45:45.906-05:00This is one of the best articles I've ever read. Quick synopsis for the Margaretville reader-on-the-go: Jayson Blair was a reporter for The New York Times for four years, a tenure during which he fabricated at least 36 stories. He lied about his sources--not only misquoting but creating entirely--and fabricated his datelines.
And the Times article covers every ounce of it. It's detailed and Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-939772042003-05-08T02:10:00.000-05:002003-05-08T02:10:56.346-05:00Twice in one night; how'd you get so lucky? Oh, I'm writing a paper and grading homeworks at the library, my newest hangout.
Because my list of library dos and don'ts was so popular at the end of last quarter, I'm going to add an up-to-the-minute update of things that are and aren't cool that I can see right from where I'm sitting.
-Girl eating what appear to be meat dumplings: This falls Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-939758652003-05-08T01:30:00.000-05:002003-05-08T01:30:06.580-05:00Nora stole my thunder by posting Susie's e-mail before I got a chance to. Just head on over to Otasland for your daily dose of Lyons girl hilarity. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-936718052003-05-02T15:51:00.000-05:002003-05-02T15:54:40.000-05:00ACT I
This week: Margaret, think fast.hurls giant pile of garbage, feces and stress in her direction
Margaret: Whuhah? does not think fast; is covered in garbage, feces and stress.
ACT II
Sleep: Listen, Mags, I know we're pretty good pals, but stuff just isn't the same anymore.
Margaret: I know.
Sleep: I feel like you never make time for me, and when you do, it's only like 20 minutes in the Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-931429822003-04-23T18:38:00.000-05:002003-04-23T18:38:58.990-05:00I was outside Reynolds Club yesterday and as usual there were a bunch of people standing around, talking on their cell phones. (I'm one of them usually, but I had just hung up.) On my way inside, one particularly grouchy looking fellow shouted into his phone, "Look, I'm just not the father of her baby." Yikes.
Clip from last night's make-Margaret-feel-happy-fest at Jimmy's:
Margaret: Yeah, he hasMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-930356502003-04-22T03:53:00.000-05:002003-04-22T03:53:44.743-05:00Tonight was a big night on Planet Margaret. I got my editor wings this evening as the newly established features editor at the Maroon. Today we are running our very first feature, a profile of four new professors at the U of C and an informative and chatty sidebar that explains the different professorship titles. I wrote my first unsigned (the staff editorial) and ran an ass-whomping copy editorsMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-928003672003-04-17T16:20:00.000-05:002003-04-18T03:08:01.000-05:00Additions to yesterday’s game;
-A student uses an abbreviation you’ve never seen before, like “PTO” for “please turn over” or “WTS” for “want to show.” Finish off that beer you’ve been periodically sipping for answers copied out of the back of the book. And now, for your daily dose of Margaret/Aaron anecdote, the story behind “WTS”:
Aaron and I were in the same calculus class first year, when Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-927405372003-04-16T17:08:00.000-05:002003-04-17T12:05:25.000-05:00Woowoo, updating live from the second floor coffee shop courtesy of Aaron's laptop. I'm the "junior tutor" (a.k.a. T.A.) for a basic calculus class this quarter, and it rules. I'm the fun T.A. I bring snacks to problem sessions, I liberally distribute bonus points, and I go through pretty much the entire problem set so there's no excuse for not getting at least a 9/10. Damn T.A.ing is fun. I'm inMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-925599602003-04-13T22:30:00.000-05:002003-04-13T22:30:36.500-05:00Stuff has been crazygonuts, especially considering that this is only the beginning of the quarter. Sheesh.
News from the home front My cat Angel is super old. Like, she's a contemporary of Jesus's cat. Her newest ailment, to go along with "the shakes" and the near constant eye boogers, is partial kidney deterioration. It's not total, all out, adios renal system--more like a gradual loss of Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-918977092003-04-03T00:40:00.000-06:002003-04-03T00:40:03.640-06:00 For the record, springtime is BULLSHIT. As I found out today, it's not actually spring. Yesterday was a false-ass fucking alarm. I wore a skirt and flip-flops today, only to be teetering on cryogenic preservation by noon. Yikes.
I'm taking an intro to sculpture class (hello art requirement) which I'm pretty excited about: the only problem is that there are some total assmonkeys in my Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-918262222003-04-02T00:24:00.000-06:002003-04-02T00:24:32.750-06:00It's springtime in Chicagoland. Dorm trolls and library hobbits are emerging, gingerly grasping frisbees, casually lounging on the newly-green quads. Iced coffee and flip-flops, here I come. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-913878762003-03-25T21:34:00.000-06:002003-03-25T21:34:36.246-06:00This absurd woman was sitting next to me today when I was getting my hair cut (and colored). My favorite quips:
-"I mean, my relationship with my son is much better now that the detective is out of the picture."
-"Well, Sadam Hussein is just a bully. And his playground is the world."
-to the woman cutting her hair"Listen, the way you feel about hair is the way I feel about sofas."
-"That's what IMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-910882062003-03-20T17:26:00.000-06:002003-03-20T17:26:35.966-06:00I think I'm supposed to write something about the war, but I just don't feel a need. Everyone and his or her mom is spewing something about it at this point, and I'm sure I don't have anything fresh with which to enlighten my admittedly tiny readership.
Instead, I figured I'd stick with what I know: The New York Times and instant messenger. I'm a big fan of both, so when the Times covers AIM, Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-909435622003-03-18T14:28:00.000-06:002003-03-18T14:28:23.326-06:00I think this is going a little too far: I just received a spam text message--in Spanish, for whatever reason--to my cell phone. Not cool, Sistema Celular. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-909016112003-03-17T22:26:00.000-06:002003-03-17T22:26:40.623-06:00Strong forces of evil are preventing me from starting my paper. If I were you, and religious, I’d take this opportunity to say a small prayer for me. I’ve been spending a substantial amount of time in the library for the last couple of days, and I’ve noticed a few things. To help everyone out with library-going decisions, a few dos and don’ts:
Do
-Bring a snack. The signs say “no food,” but it’s Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-906390742003-03-13T02:10:00.000-06:002003-03-13T02:12:26.000-06:00My new timesuck for the week is Gizmodo. It's pretty awesome for the tech geek in you. I really needed a new timesuck, too, because it's reading period and finals are rapidly approaching. Why didn't anyone tell me there were pink digital cameras? Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-905138102003-03-11T04:14:00.000-06:002003-03-11T04:16:38.000-06:00Tonight is the last Maroon of the quarter. It’s 4 a.m. now, and we’re not exactly showing signs of finishing up. This issue is, at the risk of being enormously trite, bittersweet. Sweet because my next few Mondays and Thursdays are free. Bitter because it’s the last night with the old guard, the crew to whom I am endlessly devoted, the cupcakes who’ve made Maroon fun night-in and night-out for Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-903123802003-03-07T12:03:00.000-06:002003-03-07T12:06:32.000-06:00When I work late at Maroon, I often help out with writing headlines, subheads and captions; I can sympathize with how surprisingly difficult this task can be. You want to express the actual sentiment of the story, but you have to pick your words carefully so they fit into the bizarre space constraints. So, New York Times, it’s not that I don’t understand. But "Gleeful”? Jesus, women are crazy. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-900831852003-03-03T19:42:00.000-06:002003-03-03T19:42:51.653-06:00I talk a lot about my grandma because she’s pretty awesome. She sends me tons of letters. I got two today, one of which included a photo of me totally zonked out on the couch in what appear to be work clothes. The letter reads:
“Once upon a time there was a lovely small chateau in a woods filled with friendly animals and birds. It was near a village. In the chateau lived a happy family; father, Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-900106132003-03-02T14:19:00.000-06:002003-03-02T14:21:55.000-06:00I think we're due for a quick vocabulary lesson. Yes, Associated Press, I am talking to you. Ex-President? Are you on crack? The first freaking line of the story says "former." Ex-presidents include Carter and Bush, Sr; former presidents include Clinton and Reagan. Ex implies an abrupt or unwelcome cessation; former implies the completion of a time-restricted task, or retirement and resignation.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-899261712003-02-28T16:56:00.000-06:002003-02-28T16:59:25.000-06:00Last night was a Maroon all-nighter. I hadn’t had one since spring last year, and a few people last night hadn’t ever pulled one. The Maroon all-nighter is a unique creature. Here’s a rough timeline:
Before 9 p.m. People are around, but there’s very little chatter.
9 p.m.–1 a.m. Work mode. You’re feeling pretty sharp. You’re excited about the issue, the office is jumping, and things are Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-898038452003-02-26T18:05:00.000-06:002003-02-26T18:05:35.796-06:00I went through the time schedules for spring quarter, and right now there are nineteen courses I want to take. I think I’m going to have to trim that list down.
I just left a religious studies concentrators meeting. There are some cool people in the program, but also some total freakshows. Two especially geektastic kids were bantering throughout the meeting, and my friend Audrey turned to me and Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-897401972003-02-25T17:28:00.000-06:002003-02-25T17:28:18.796-06:00Susie: Don’t you think Nora should join the radio station at school?
Margaret: Yeah.
Susie: I mean, I think she’d really like it.
Margaret: Me too.
Susie: And I think she could sort of find her thing there.
Margaret: Yeah.
Susie: The way you find it at Maroon, or I find it…at…bars.
Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-894472182003-02-20T12:52:00.000-06:002003-02-20T13:44:48.000-06:00I took a quiz today in bioterrorism (chill out, it’s a class), and a big chunk of it was what you would and wouldn’t do if you were exposed to anthrax, smallpox, botulinum, tularemia, or plague. I would go to a doctor/seek medical treatment. I wouldn’t spit on a baby or someone who is immunosuppressed. Just as a heads up, folks. Well look who else knows what to do in the case of a biological Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-894090612003-02-19T21:42:00.000-06:002003-02-19T21:42:10.386-06:00The Red Line train pulls into the Grand Avenue stop.
CTA loud speaker guy: This is Grand.
Me: I love that. "This is grand." Heehee.
Aaron: I never noticed that before. This is grand.
Susie: Too bad there's not a stop called Horseshit. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-892854312003-02-17T22:53:00.000-06:002003-02-17T22:53:02.493-06:00So the East Coast in general and New York City in particular are closed for business. There are (at least) two ways to look this snow-induced dilemma: 1) oh no, Susie can’t get home to go to work, or 2) rock! My older sister gets to stay in Chicagoland with me until Wednesday. I choo-choo-choose the latter.
Joe Millionaire. I don’t quite know where to start. Zora freaks me out more than a little,Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-892203002003-02-16T22:22:00.000-06:002003-02-16T22:22:59.550-06:00This was officially the shortest weekend in recorded history. Holy shit. My sisters were in town (one is still here, lucky for me) and our time just fucking flew by. Aww. Highlights include me purchasing the greatest shoes on earth, Nora purchasing the foxiest pants ever, Susie purchasing maybe the second greatest pair of shoes on earth, and Aaron eating more food at breakfast than most people Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-890104362003-02-12T21:15:00.000-06:002003-02-12T21:15:17.696-06:00I got on the #6 Jeffery Express bus this afternoon, cranked up my headphones and pulled out my book. There was an indiekid dreamboat across the aisle from me, and as I admired his ironic shoulder bag, he turned to me briefly and smiled. This happened two or three times. I started to feel like a real smooth operator. His smile was sort of a smirk, but I thought this was part of his rock star Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-889383822003-02-11T17:20:00.000-06:002003-02-11T17:20:28.563-06:00I was just talking to my little brother while standing behind the Reynolds Club. In the short span of our conversation, four med school students walked by in IDENTICAL black pea coats with their white lab coats sticking out underneath. Heh. Then the boy's cross country team ran by with no shirts on. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-886953632003-02-07T02:15:00.000-06:002003-02-07T02:15:10.056-06:00This week has freaking flown by, directly affecting my ability to cross things off my to-do list. But that’s sort of neither here nor there.
Yesterday my sister called me while I was at the library. Seizing this opportunity to flee the beige-coated hellhole, I went outside to continue our wee chat. As I was standing outside of the Reg, this little kid on an absurdly tiny bicycle rode by, laughingMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-884908122003-02-03T15:06:00.000-06:002003-02-03T20:14:01.000-06:00Note to kid in my math class: Get a god damn cough drop, buddy. You grossed me out for 50 solid minutes.
I saw Secretary this weekend, and I loved it. It's cute and witty, smart and perceptive, and, despite what you've probably heard, not really about S&M. The post-movie glow was somewhat dimmed by this slightly icky encounter right after the film:
Middle-aged extremely scrubby looking guy: Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-881954152003-01-28T21:51:00.000-06:002003-01-28T21:51:42.790-06:00Check out Otasland, new blog home of my little sister. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-881464802003-01-28T02:17:00.000-06:002003-01-28T02:17:40.080-06:00The fotolog now has updated pics from the road trip. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-879490602003-01-24T03:50:00.000-06:002003-01-24T03:50:17.046-06:00Thanks to everyone for the absolutely no help whatsoever in the digital camera department. Despite this lack of input, I hauled ass to North/Clybourn this afternoon (in seven-degree temperatures, no less) and got myself an adorable contraption otherwise known as a Cannon Elph. Meow. Expect big, big things from the fotolog.
Odds are good that I'll be heading to Ohio tomorrow afternoon. On the one Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-878639352003-01-22T16:29:00.000-06:002003-01-23T00:21:33.000-06:00This is a little grotesque. But so fun. Also, I'm buying a digital camera and need suggestions.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-877446752003-01-20T14:51:00.000-06:002003-01-20T14:51:23.656-06:00Just when I think I might not want to be a math major any more…algebra has to go and get awesome. Literally last night I pondered why on earth I was still doing this. I mean, I’m good at math, but I’m not that good, and I don’t want to be a math teacher or professor. So it’s really only about personal enrichment, and I was started to feel, well, pretty enriched. Plus today’s problem set kind of Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-875807422003-01-17T02:21:00.000-06:002003-01-17T02:21:39.540-06:00Despite unprecedented levels of stress for the first two weeks of a quarter, things are shaping up here in Margaretville. On the one hand, we have a list of things that sort of sucked about the last two weeks:
• Trying to move all my shit into my apartment. I have way more stuff than any single twenty-year-old ought ever to amass.
• Money. Cash. Hoes. A little light on each.
Chicago is freezing. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-875324802003-01-16T08:00:00.000-06:002003-01-16T08:00:08.450-06:00I got oh so very little reading done last night...but instead....: tada.Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-870265692003-01-06T16:19:00.000-06:002003-01-06T16:21:16.000-06:00Today is the first day of school, so naturally I got all excited, blow dried my hair, wore mascara--the whole nine yards when compared to my otherwise extremely minimal beauty routine (aka chapstick). Feeling pretty damn hot, I ran into an associate from first-year, a decently nice girl whom I don't really keep in touch with, but whose company I nonetheless enjoy. She complimented my Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-869875852003-01-05T21:18:00.000-06:002003-01-05T21:18:01.920-06:00I'm back in Chitown, in all its snowy glory. I'm in the process of unpacking, and have discovered the previous count of 16 purses was innacurate: I accidentally left two of my favorites in my dad's bag, along with my alarm clock. Score.
Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-869208272003-01-04T08:03:00.000-06:002003-01-04T08:03:10.626-06:00I was supposed to go to Chicago yesterday, on yet another superfun drive with my padre, but instead the stupid snow and ice storm out of the Ohio Valley dumped a pantload of precipitation all along Route 80. So my dad and I are flying out today, renting an SUV (bling bling) and hauling all my shit out of storage. If you are in Chicagoland and you want to say hello, call the celly.
For however Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-868043512003-01-01T18:44:00.000-06:002003-01-01T18:44:24.293-06:00Happy New Year! And I seriously can't wait to get back to Chicagoland. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-866551552002-12-29T04:23:00.000-06:002002-12-29T04:23:05.956-06:00Did I mention I'm back in Stony Island next quarter? I am. Me and my amazing J-Lo highlights will be kicking it in good old 5700 again.
There's this bizarre downtime between Christmas and New Year's, where you return half your gifts and wonder what you're doing Tuesday night and with whom you're doing it. I'm pretty much done with the returning process (who got five bags at Bloomingdales Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-866173372002-12-28T01:09:00.000-06:002002-12-28T01:09:52.920-06:00I got my hair dyed today, and all I have to say is: J-Lo, watch out. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-863991132002-12-22T10:33:00.000-06:002002-12-22T10:33:59.523-06:00Head's up: Kirt Manwaring appears to be coming out of retirement. Keep your eyes peeled for Wonderland of Spite making an unexpected comeback in the near future.
Things I couldn't believe yesterday and today
-that people wear high heels regularly
-that Harry Potter ws still selling out theaters
-that someone would strut around in a Burberry plaid polar fleece sweat suit
-that I literally stayed Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-863091932002-12-20T01:30:00.000-06:002002-12-20T01:30:54.476-06:00This is an actual conversation that occurred between my brother and me on Monday.
Tony : Do you have an alter-ego?
Me: What?
Tony: An alter-ego.
Me: You mean...
Tony: Is Margaret just a cover for Wonder Girl?
Me: I'm not telling.
Tony: You'd only say that if you did.
Me: Why do you think I have an alter-ego? Is it because I don't really do anything all day?
Tony: Yeah. Seriously, what do you do?Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-861321212002-12-16T16:25:00.000-06:002002-12-20T01:18:26.000-06:00I don't remember what it was like to believe in Santa Claus. That sounds a lot like the kind of statement someone might use to, say, launch their indie rock empire or something, while decked out in plaid and smoking cigarettes and such. Fear not, for I am not that chick, I was simply a skeptical little kid. In any case, I'm convinced that this premature understanding of the gift-giving process isMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-859644202002-12-13T16:00:00.000-06:002002-12-13T16:00:54.753-06:00I am home in the ‘dale, which is pretty different from India. In case you were wondering, suburban New York differs a lot from urban Pune and Mumbai in some pretty key ways. Here to help is a useful side-by-side comparison:
Bagels
There are no bagels in India, primarily due to lack of Jews, if I had to guess. The ‘dale, on the other hand…well…let’s just say there are plenty of bagels to be had. Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-858270062002-12-11T01:09:00.000-06:002002-12-11T01:09:58.023-06:00Hey, technology rush. I'm updating from the Amsterdam airport with the fastest internet connection I have ever used. People looking at me must think I have very important things to accomplish, considering how quickly I'm typing and how anxious I look. This is just an act: in reality, I'm a very cold and hoping that aggressive typing will warm my fingers.
See everyone in the States in a mere Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-857792632002-12-10T06:44:00.000-06:002002-12-10T06:44:54.233-06:00I love Mumbai. After a somewhat frenzied experience here in September, I've had time to adjust to India: now I'm able to navigate without street signs, I know approximately how much stuff should cost, I can weave in and out of zooming traffic without blinking. Thus, what I once saw as a panic-inducing death trap is now in my heart as the New York of India. The last few days with Ashish and Yusra Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-855825802002-12-06T02:06:00.000-06:002002-12-06T02:06:21.300-06:00You know what I just did? Finished a paper. Can you believe it? No, neither can I. It’s pretty boring, unless you’re fascinated by the process of place making in interior Karnataka, in which case…shit, that’s sad.
In honor of my last full day in Pune, the following is a not at all comprehensive list of things I will miss about both the city and my dear study abroad program. This is in no Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-853707602002-12-02T04:41:00.000-06:002002-12-02T04:41:56.420-06:00I am back in Pune, after an amazing two weeks touring around South India. I've only got a couple more days left of the program, and then a few chilling in Mumbai before heading back to the 'dale. I'm ready, too, but the time has definitely flown by. Which is ironic, considering how long everything seems to take. As my professor said yesterday, upon the completion of a 13-hour bus ride, "Now I Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-852613562002-11-29T11:59:00.000-06:002002-11-29T11:59:57.936-06:00Woah, wild and crazy week, fifty percent of which was spent on a bus. On the list of places I have visited, we can now add: Hospet, Bijapur, Badami and Goa. We've been hiking about, visiting ruins and edicts and all sorts of fun archeological sites. It’s been…oh what’s the word…oh yeah, unmercifully grueling, and I’ll spare you the details of our fun bus time, but let’s just say I have been a Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-849130072002-11-22T01:31:00.000-06:002002-11-22T01:31:16.946-06:00I’ve been more than a little delinquent in updating recently, but this can be attributed to two important factors: 1) I wrote a paper and 2) I’m on the road. Right now I’m in Bangalore (where I’ve been all week, actually) and tonight I’m getting on a train to go…someplace else. Hospet I think. But I don’t actually know. And then on to Hampi and Vijayanagra. Whee doggies. And my paper wound up notMargarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3429506.post-844649232002-11-13T03:56:00.000-06:002002-11-13T03:56:21.860-06:00Wow, I usually try not to be out of blog commission for this long, but I have a good excuse--we took a weekend trip (Friday, Saturday and Sunday) to Ajanta and Ellora. We stayed in Aurangabad, a mere five-hour bus jaunt from Pune, and visited a medieval fort and two sets of ancient caves. It was amazing. I don't have a lot of experience seeing ancient history, so seeing these caves that were Margarethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03145271034084420509noreply@blogger.com