Enthusiasm

Sometimes I get excited or do things that confirm my nerdiness. For example, merely knowing the date of Towel Day/Geek Pride Day...

One of the most recent examples of my nerdiness displays has been with the final assignment for my class. I'm taking Introduction to Dramatic Literature. So I already geeked out over reading Hamlet AND over finding all the references to eyes, blindness and seeing in Oedipus the King. On top of it, we have to do this final project type thing. One of the options is to re-write one act of one of the plays that we read, adapting it into a different genre/style. Now anyone who knows me will know that I adore the idea of adaptations. Just look at my past two summers for evidence.
So sharing this excitement is interesting because no one knows what I'm talking about. Because I'm going to adapt a Medieval drama into a modern comedy. And I already have all sorts of ideas to keep it from getting preachy. Which is always good when adapting morality plays for modern audiences, I find. :^P It's just coming together really well in my head, and I can only hope it'll come together on paper as well!

Conflict

It's raining.
And thundering.
And though I'm thrilled that the grossness of the weather will probably encourage me to actually do work on this day when I have no class, I'm conflicted. Mostly because I have to go to the Dollar Tree to buy massive amounts of bleach, and a couple pairs of dish washing gloves. Granted, the Dollar Tree is across the street...but there is no way that I'll be able to juggle an umbrella and that amount of bleach.

In looking at the wonderful resource that is www.weather.com, I have come to realize that the county is under a severe thunderstorm warning until 8:00 this morning. Luckily, I only have five minutes until that expires. But I also discovered that it will be raining all day, thereby encouraging the further procrastination of my bleach and glove purchase.

So the procrastinating side of me is quickly winning me over. I'll have time tomorrow...but the thing with buying things tomorrow means I'll actually have to do it. Luckily, www.weather.com says that it's going to be sunny all day tomorrow. Thanks for nothing, Thursday.

Chalk

You have to love small children.
Today I went on a walk around the neighborhood surrounding school. I was planning on going to the Constitution Trail, but then I thought that maybe there would be too many people around there, and I didn't want to deal with people this morning. So I just wandered. As I was wandering, I re-noticed the tower type thing that's north of the school. Cutting between two houses on a gravel driveway, I crossed the Shirk parking lot and headed toward it as best I could. Unfortunately, there wasn't a direct route to it from where I was, but I ended up as close as I could get, discovering that it was part of the Immanuel Bible Foundation? It's in the backyard of this mansion thing that they own. Here, enjoy:

The reason why I love small children is because I was on my way to this tower thing, so I had to go through the residential part of the neighborhood (surprise, surprise). As I was walking, I noticed chalk on the sidewalk, so naturally I stopped to check it out. Written on the sidewalk in large green letters, it said, "ICE POP!" accompanied by an arrow that pointed to the house behind it. And right underneath it, in smaller pink letters, it said "Never mind."
I couldn't stop smiling. :^)

Drastic plastics tonguing street corners restlessly.

I have decided that it greatly annoys me when I step into the shower, turn on the water, and a lightbulb turns on. I'm not talking a literal lightbulb, I'm talking lightbulbs of the metaphorical variety. I'm talking the "EUREKA!" lightbulbs. The "oh my gosh, so that's what gravity is!" lightbulbs.
The lightbulbs that make me want to jump out of the shower sopping wet and run naked across the hall to grab a pen and paper.
I don't think my roommate would appreciate that very much.
Okay, so I'm thankful for any lightbulbs that grace me whenever they grace me, but could they just delay their arrival for until I get out of the shower and maybe dry off a little bit?
I don't think my notebook would appreciate being dripped on.
This is the perfect opportunity for someone to invent a waterproof way of documenting those lightbulb moments. Especially for writers such as myself who have short attention spans and horrible memories. I would keep it in a pocket. Somewhere. They'd have to install some sort of shelf in the shower specially crafted to hold this waterproof documenting device. Honestly, whoever invents that will make a mint. I would tell all my friends, and just think of the number of novels, poems, philosophical arguments and worthless headlines could be written just because the person could write them down immediately after thinking of them.
While in the shower.
I know I would buy one. Whatever it may be. Laminated notebook pages and special pen (maybe a Sharpie, they work everywhere)? Some type of waterproof messaging, note-taking device? Handheld, of course.
Think of all those lightbulbs saved.
Instead of burnt out.

Prompted

Thank you, to prompt websites that make my life easier.

May was a college student. That is to say that she spent the majority of her time during the week in the library, and her Fridays and Saturdays as far away from the library as she could possibly get. And being the dutiful college student she was, she called her parents once every two weeks to assure them that yes, she was doing fine in classes, and no, she wasn't letting her boyfriend push her around. Mostly because she didn't have a boyfriend. But that wasn't the point.

This particular afternoon found May, the college student, on a train, on her way home. And for May, home meant a great number of things, most importantly, home meant being within the same city limits as her former high school boyfriend. And he was one of several reasons she didn't have a boyfriend at school. The other reasons being the names of innumerable STDs that she was fairly certain the fraternity boys at her school collected and a certain overprotective father who didn't like bikers, artistic types or political science majors.

But I digress. At that very moment, May sat in her very own seat on the Amtrak home, with her laptop open on the fold out tray in front of her. The light from the screen was dimmed since she had her power cord in her bag and she didn't feel like fiddling around with the dimmer. Besides, she didn't need to see perfectly in order to play Spider Solitaire. It was rather inconvenient that the train didn't have Wifi, but hey, she had Moulin Rouge and a set of headphones in her bag if she felt the need to entertain herself with something other than pixelated images of shuffling cards.

May shifted in her seat, fighting to get comfortable in the chair to which she would be confined for over three hours. After fidgeting for a good bit, she discovered that she had been sitting on a ball of crumpled paper. Furrowing her brow, May picked up the paper ball and opened it, smoothing it out on the corner of the tray table that wasn't taken up by her laptop. When she uncrumpled it...