Chandri MacLeod (chandri) wrote,
Chandri MacLeod

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No more essays hurrah!

I would say "ever," except I'm fairly sure that the Humanities class next semester *does* have papers, so I can't do the Last Essay of my Undergraduate Career Dance until April. It will be glorious.

That Keirsey personality test with the four-letter acronyms is circulating again, I see. I am now done but for studying for that last "exam" in 205 next week, and felt the need to do something pointless, so I clicked. The test instructions tell you to select your most "natural" response.


Randomly, the only thing I picked up from Environmental History that I didn't already have (I was apparently his "star pupil" this semester, hee - that's what I get for my dirty hippie commie pinko parents, hurrah) was the inability to ever, for the rest of my life, read, hear, think, or speak the word "nature" without my brain going into circular hour-long convulsions over WHAT DOES "NATURE" MEAN, OR DOES IT MEAN ANYTHING AT ALL, OMG (not in so many words - faster and with more wibbling). It's like when I discovered etymology. It's mostly "whee!" but you get bits of your brain permanently re-wired and you can no longer control your thought processes on some subjects. Like, I'll read about a new piece of software on LJ or somewhere and the title will be similar to the name for a kind of fruit pie, and BANG. Before I know it I've spent three hours on Google and Wikipedia tracking the word's origins and common uses back to the latin name of an Andean beetroot and a popular Japanese sex toy and by the way it's also the name of a television show featuring a talking platypus which has underlying themes about the divine feminine in Western culture.

(TANGENT: That book whose name I couldn't remember, by the way? Shy the Platypus. There was also the one with the tiny children who wore nutshells on their heads and the main character was left as a baby in a spiderweb and one time he and his best friend walk into a dance and are mocked by all the other tiny-nutshell-wearing-people because here in the big city they wear clothes? I'm pretty sure I read it when I was little but Mum and I couldn't find it and now we are beginning to think I imagined it.)

Y'know, every so often I worry that Sherlock Holmes was right, and that the brain really is like a room with walls that eventually will refuse to continue stretching.

Hasn't happened yet, but you never know. o.O

EDIT: Bitchcakes. *snicker*
Tags: family, general geek

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