September 3rd, 2003

reeciebastion

(no subject)

Classes today:

Critical Thinking - Prof is crazy. In an amusing but sad sort of way. Might be on speed or something. Always seems about to explode with excitement. Gets lots of pity laughs. o.O (Nadia 'n Dan? The textbook is A Practical Study of Argument, Trudy Govier, 5th edition. Floppy green-and-purple thing. Is that the one you have?)

Studies in Prose - Prof also crazy, but fantastic. Spent first twenty-five minutes of class explaining to the class the importance of fiction to culture - and ten of that was telling us how reading LoTR when he was seventeen changed his life. ;) Seems to look at writing as a sacred calling. Am going to like this class. ^.^ Only complaint is unfortunate ratio of mundanes to people with imaginations - prof got lots of blank, glazed looks during his speech. Rrr.

I negotiated my loan today - as always, I got back more paper than I handed in. Lots of people in the line - guy seemed relieved I knew what I was doing. Poor man.

Got ID this morning. Not good. o.O Though I did investigate the library afterward - not terribly impressive, but all right. Found Fahrenheit 451, finally.

Have no textbooks. Visa still hasn't shown its treacherous plastic face. Stupid loans take five days to show up. Grant cheque hasn't arrived. Curses. >.<

By the way... *shakes fist in general direction of the Pacific* ...where's our moderating effect, huh? It was thirty-two today. I am appalled. It's bloody September. It wasn't so bad going to and from school, but on the walk to the post office and the bank I almost melted. Also I got all the way to the post office the first time, and realized I'd forgotten my chequebook. I hate cheques. I had to go back and get it - and then I managed to burn going down Anson between Safeway and Pinetree. Sigh.

Come on, autumn.

I got home at six after English and immediately conked out for four hours - I don't really think it's adjustment of sleep schedule, but the heat when I got back. I walked back the long way, reading. Which predictably slowed my progress somewhat, but it was so nice walking back in the shady woods that I didn't care. I love having the Trans Canada Trail run past my back door. I especially love having a back door. ;)

I've got to get my bike fixed.

Anyway, speaking of sleep, I should watch DS9 and then go to sleep properly.
  • Current Music
    Ben Sisko is playing piano...
cactus

I (heart) Neil Gaimain. ^.^

I once wrote to the very cool Project Gutenberg people, who make public domain material available on the web, pointing out that Stephen King and Douglas Adams and I were not yet in the public domain, and could they take that page down, and they were mortified.) Seeing I'm the copyright holder and have every right to grumble, no-one's ever done anything more than take the book or story down, occasionally -- very occasionally -- muttering something hopeless and grumbly like "information wants to be free!" as they do, but mostly being very pleased someone let them know that it was up there.

("No, that's pizza," I want to tell them. "Pizza wants to be free. Concentrate on liberating pizza from evil pizzerias. Information, on the other hand, really hates being free, and is never happier than when manacled to a wall, like Kirk and Spock in some piece of late 70s bondage-oriented slash fiction.")


I still find myself deeply bothered by this whole FictionLyn thing... selling fanfiction in the first place is kinda... iffy, from the standpoint of principle. I mean... not yours. There's not much on which fanfiction writers agree (when they *can* agree - for the most part we're an arrogant, cantankerous, antisocial bunch who go after conflict like candy), but the Disclaimer is something you learn at the beginning, when you write your first piece of crappy thirteen-year-old-spawned fic. The ludcriously high price tag attached to this particular tripe just deepens the trauma. o.O

I suppose the thing covering the legality of this is that it's real-people fic (so to speak) - it's like historical fiction, and you can't copyright a person, so it's not covered under fair use. But she still calls herself (or called herself - I read somewhere that she's "done with the fanfiction community") a fanficton writer, and it irks. Offends my sensibilities, I guess. Just. Ye gods. *shakes head*

But I like the way Neil puts it... pardon my paraphrase: "Fanfiction is a privilege - not a right."

EDIT: I've decided to eventually register the name "Random Cactus Press". It amuses me. ;)

Other candiates were "Wandering Pheasant Press", "Rebellious Shuttlecock Press", and "Hopping Duster Press".

SECOND EDIT: Yeek. Extremely eventually. $200 to register not counting agent fees. Wonder how long it takes to count through common-law... *plots*
  • Current Mood
    aggravated aggravated
reeciebastion

(no subject)

I find I take issue with Gordon Campbell being referred to as "honourable".

EDIT, five minutes later: Oh. The Government of BC website just crashed my computer. How very encouraging. >.
cactus

(no subject)

Ohmygods. I always thought that the Crazy Singing Christian skits on Mad TV (Saturday Night Live?) were just... random. But I was just flipping through channels and stumbled across the originals.

o.OoOoO (*eyetwitch*)
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    scared scared
reeciebastion

(no subject)

This is the tenth different squirrel I've seen on the patio in two days (squirrel in motion - he wouldn't hold still). I see them more often than birds. And the grey ones you don't see so much anymore. I think there's a family of them living in our tree, which is neat - though given recent experience it does make me hesitant about planting vegetables back there. o.O
  • Current Mood
    amused amused
cactus

(no subject)

Today...

...Geography 1-something-or-other, I can't remember right now: Human Impact on the Environment. It is indeed the hippie science credit. The which I'm fine with. ;) I understand the need for generalizing credit requirements, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. I still need another one next semester. Not sure how I can get around this. All that's left are more geography classes and... like... statistics. There's also math, but... no.

I think all male geography teachers must look exactly alike - thin, moustached, and thinning on top. Dr. Noah looks exactly like Mr. Vandervelden, but shorter. It's creepy. o.O Lots of group work and oral presentation for this class, no essays. Very social. Meh. I think I'm indifferent.

Creative Writing: Studies in Fiction - I kinda plan to flub. Expected it to be relatively easy, and after the first class I hold to this assumption. Doesn't look overly challenging (we only have to submit 6,500 words for the whole semester, altogether), and I could use at least one of those. Looks fun, though - interesting.

That's everything except the history class, which I won't have 'til Monday - that's the three-hour one. Only problem so far is my lack of funds; my grant *still* hasn't shown up, nor has my Visa. So I have reading assignments in three out of four classes so far - no, wait... *checks*...four out of four classes so far, and can't do 'em 'cause I've got no books, and I can't buy the books 'cause my money hasn't shown up yet. Two of them are supposed to be done for Thursday, one for Friday. Argh!

Also, we are out of cheese spread. We had some, but the shelf in the fridge door popped out , seemingly of its own accord (I've become suspicious of fridge door shelves - this is the second fridge that's done this to me), and dumped the last jar on the floor. And I'm not particularly fond of shattered glass in my food, so. No cheese. And no money to buy more, because...

...yes. We've done this already. ;)

On the upside, this new damage added to the list of other damages to the fridge has convinced the maintenance people that we need a new fridge. The maintenance guy who was here when we were painting said that, but apparently did not mention it to anyone else. So we submitted a form-thing. New fridge. Free new fridge. :D

Fahrenheit 451 is scarier than Nineteen Eighty-Four.

Hmm. I'm rambling.
  • Current Mood
    tired tired