for · the · sake · of · a · single · verse

“The honor of the political leader, of the leading statesman, however, lies precisely in an exclusive personal responsibility for what he does, a responsibility he cannot and must not reject or transfer. It is in the nature of officials of high moral standing to be poor politicians, and above all, in the political sense of the word, to be irresponsible politicians.” – Max Weber, Politics As A Vocation

And there you have it, folks. The difference between Eddard Stark and Roose Bolton, theorized and formulated long before George R.R. Martin was a squalling baby. Oh, to be a fly on the wall of Winterfell!

The true test of being busy (at least for this week) has turned out to be the fact that I didn't take a single nap. Possibly since I'm actually getting a solid 7 hours every single night from about 1 a.m. to 8/9 a.m.

But possibly also because my schedule leaves no time for sleep in the middle of the day. =(

Watch pouting college student pout. Pout, college student, pout.

For the sake of a single verse, one must see many cities, men, and things. One must know the animals, one must feel how the birds fly and know the gesture with which the little flowers open in the morning. One must be able to think back to roads in unknown regions, to unexpected meetings and to partings one had long seen coming; to days of childhood that are still unexplained, to parents whom one had to hurt when they brought one some joy and did not grasp it (it was a joy for someone else); to childhood illnesses that so strangely begin with such a number of profound and grave transformations, to days in rooms withdrawn and quiet and to mornings by the sea, to the sea itself, to seas, to nights of travel that rushed along on high and flew with all the stars—and it is not yet enough if one may think of all this. One must have memories of many nights of love, none of which was like the others, of the screams of women in labor, and of light, white, sleeping women in childbed, closing again. But one must also have been beside the dying, must have sat beside the dead in the room with the open window and the fitful noises. And still it is not enough to have memories. One must be able to forget them when they are many, and one must have the great patience to wait until they come again.

For it is not yet the memories themselves. Not till they have turned to blood within us, to glance, and gesture, nameless, and no longer to be distinguished from ourselves—not till then can it happen that in a most rare hour the first word of a verse arises in their midst and goes forth from them.

- Rainer Maria Rilke

... well, let's go over this again, Chicago.

I'm sure you've got some rationale or some logical way of explaining this, and I'm just too dumb to understand it, me poor college student with just a high school diploma. But could you reiterate exactly why tomorrow's daytime wind chill is going to be around -35 degrees Fahrenheit?!

Nota Bene: According to xkcd, this is dangerously close to "Spit goes 'Clink!'" temperature. Which... objectively speaking, is kind of awesome; I love when life imitates xkcd. (Subjectively speaking, however... well, let's just not go there.)

Bottom line: aaaaaaah. I have to go dancing. And DJ swing for the night (wtf?!), because everyone else bailed, fuckers. And possibly let a dancer crash on my couch. And work starts Saturday. And I didn't do any of my Chinese homework. And all my personal statements need to be done tomorrow so they can be e-mailed out to my recommenders. And I need to go to sleep now.

I'm going to say this again, because I haven't said it enough this week:

I did not sign up for this, life. You'd better check that clipboard again.

It is 12:16 a.m. on Sunday before finals week. I am in the A-level of the Regenstein Library and have been here for nearly two hours now, organizing and starting to write my sosc paper, while listening to an idyllic playlist from iTunes.

I am enjoying it.

This scares me more than anyone could understand. It was my intention to get drunk again tonight, but I would strangely rather decipher Fanon and de Beauvoir than have gin and tonics with Chris. Terrifying.

I will make the most of this momentary madness, and finish as much of this sosc paper as I can. And maybe ask Sarah if it all makes sense, because it's proceeding much too smoothly and easily. Right. Back to sanity.

I can't blame all of this on Ellie, but it's probably more the fault of post-scav fever than anything else, combined with a lack of sleep (on her part, that is).

When Richard refused to have sosc class outside, Ellie and I climbed out the window, literally, sliding down the side of Cobb's ivy-fringed facade. It was awesome.

(We were only on the first floor, so it wasn't as crazy as it sounds.) I'm pretty sure James made sure we were locked out when we clambered back around.

Yeah, spring quarter is pretty much bananas.

In the shower this morning, I was musing over the fact that I really wanted to watch Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants tonight, with Sarah or Emilie or somebody.

Two nights ago, I'd really wanted to watch it on Thursday night with Sarah, but she ended up going to Airplane, which was being shown in the lounge. We had been deciding and deliberating, if Katie wanted to come, and if Sarah would finish her essay first, when Katie came out of the room holding Airplane. When she said hi and asked what we were going to do this evening, Sarah and I said at the same time, "Actually..." and trailed off, and looked at each other.

At that moment in the shower, I stopped conditioning my hair, and thought to myself, "NASH EQUILIBRIUM POINT! YES! It's true! They do exist in any game!"

It was pretty amazing, since I'd finished A Beautiful Mind, the biography which inspired the movie, by Sylvia Nasar. Though game theory is by no means a field of study I'm going to pursue, it kept racing through my mind, while reading Schmitt and Dewey this quarter, and other issues too.

I love it when things like this pop up in real life. It makes the possibility that I have whooping cough soooo much better. (Yeah, it's true. This cough has been here for three days now, and several people independently commented that it sounded worse than yesterday. I really don't want it to be whooping cough, because then I would've already infected a ton of the floor, my classes, the people at Java Jive... the list goes on. At least I didn't go to work, or a bunch of high schoolers would have it too.) Off to get dressed and go to brunch, because food will not wait forever.

... when I actually have the best two hours of the day engrossed in reading a chapter of Mill's On Liberty and recording notes and relevant information to the origin of the Manchu from three separate books in preparation for that paper I have to write for Cultural Geography. I am serious, man. Mill is some good shit - I would buy that any day over Hegel or Rousseau or anyone, actually. I liked Rousseau best out of the state-of-nature authors, but that last paper I did just about killed me.

Mill. Seriously, that's where the party's at.

I never thought I'd really come out of ninth week with my brain intact, but one can only hope...

When I get back to Boston, I want to go to the Museum of Science with Alex. I really want to see the Van de Graff generators again. Those things are freaking awesome, and one day, I'd like to take my kids to see those.

I set out across the Midway at midnight, descending from Emilie's room on the 3rd floor of Mathews House painfully, because the workout I had on Friday night (half an hour on the treadmill, then ten min with the rowing machine) really did a number on my body. It was cold, like Emilie had been afraid it would be, but it was not as windy as it had been. Instead, the streetlights cast a quiet glow on the crunchy snow and the dark ice, as I steadily made my way across the intersections and entered the quad. In the quad, it was probably the most peaceful. I could see my breath mist and evaporate on the air, but it was a crisp wintry kind of night, so silent that only the cars on the open road two blocks away could be heard if one strained for it. And it was beautiful.

The strain of winter quarter has... maybe, it has melted away. This week, we will have our last three days of class for winter quarter, and then it is reading period, and then commences the finals week, Thursday evening of which I get to fly home. Before then, I must complete my paper in compsci, my final project in compsci, take a natsci final (do my last lab for natsci too), write my Inferno paper, take my Chinese final, and do miscellaneous homework. Yeah, I think that's about it.

A while ago, I had a bit of a panic attack concerning summer jobs/internships/whatnot. Now I'm just kind of laid back once more and... can hardly rouse myself to care. That's really bad. If all else fails, I will probably go back to working at the Coop. Right now, though, it's mostly trying not to digest A Storm of Swords in one go (third in the George R.R. Martin series, I'm so addicted!), talking to Alex every other chance I get, taking naps every single day, and not washing my dishes. Oy vey. Also, toss in there hoping for spring to come really really soon, and you have the end of winter quarter for me.

Some days, I think I want more. I think there's something missing from all the important things in my life, like my relationship with Alex, my career plans, my academic aims and my private life with my family, something that I need to be satisfied for the rest of my life or I can't deal. And some days, I think that maybe I'm just inventing gaps which don't exist, because everything feels good. I think today is a good mix of those two days, and I feel fine.

My right hand hurts from two continuous hours of scribing Chinese characters. I had tea, I reviewed thoroughly for my midterm, and I am really tired. Today, it also snowed all day, and I put on my winter boots for the first time ever. It was an interesting experience. I may wear them again tomorrow, as they were reasonably comfortable.

Tomorrow - my Chinese midterm is at 8:30 a.m., and after acing it, I will head somewhere to eat breakfast, and then go to the Regenstein and take notes for my natsci midterm until goodness knows what time. Possibly like... 3 p.m. or something, but basically, all of tomorrow except lunch, dinner, work from 6-9 p.m., and then back home for study break and last-minute cramming with Jake. And then I'm going to bed around 11 p.m., or hopefully no later than 12 a.m., because I need that sleep!

And Thursday will come, for better or for worse, and I will take my natsci midterm after Chinese class, go to hum class, and then compsci, and go home to pack. On Friday, I will be off. Excellent. It's just a matter of living until then. *deep breath*

Oh, and I guess today's House episode wasn't bad. I just don't understand how those parents were gypsies... they looked a LOT more like Italians. Teehee.

Nice Things That Have Happened So Far This Week

Patty temporarily lost my usual gloves, so I brought out the mittens Mom had brought me, and they are extraordinarily soft, warm and awesome. I think I will wear them from now on.
I have read two stories out of Fragile Things (Neil Gaiman), and I really like it so far but you know, that's not like a huge surprise.
I wore Alex's earrings today and felt better.
My compsci assignments were completed.
We saw a taping of "Wait Wait... Don't Tell Me," the NPR quiz show, which was pretty funny.
I still haven't gotten less than 5 hours of sleep a night. Rock on!

Bad Things That Have Happened So Far This Week

Bad things? What bad things?

I shut myself up in the study room for about an hour and a half to read Aristotle feverishly. And I need to wake up tomorrow at 10 a.m. to read even more, but anyway, afterwards, I rewarded myself by lounging about a little with people, and then going to Sarah's room.

Sarah has the sweetest soprano, as I have stated on multiple occasions, and she was practicing her guitar. We ran through some John Denver ("Country Roads" again) and Ben Harper ("Waiting On An Angel" which Alex sent to me!) and then some Beatles and other random stuff... and finally, Joni Mitchell ("Both Sides Now")!! I mean, I love that song so much... it's also the memories associated with it from Love Actually and that scene where it plays with Emma Thompson standing all alone in her bedroom.

Anyhow, just listening to acoustic music is soothing, and so is listening to Helen-Mary's new fountain. She got this tiny little bonsai-style kind of fountain which bubbles serenely, and the sound of trickling water has become possibly one of the most comforting things ever. It is very very nice, that is all I have to say. =) And I will go to sleep shortly. *snuggle*