<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850</id><updated>2011-04-21T12:39:38.120-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Jonesing</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><link rel='next' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default?start-index=101&amp;max-results=100'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>125</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-2372606903151944010</id><published>2008-12-26T20:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-26T20:51:49.064-08:00</updated><title type='text'>New Blog</title><content type='html'>I made a new blog, as I haven't been Jonesing for more than a year.  You can keep reading about my adventures at my new site though. http://picturesinmyeyes.blogspot.com/&lt;br /&gt;Cheerio!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-2372606903151944010?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/2372606903151944010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=2372606903151944010' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2372606903151944010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2372606903151944010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/12/new-blog.html' title='New Blog'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-5317431132625449855</id><published>2008-12-25T20:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-25T20:45:50.703-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Christmas</title><content type='html'>I had a really lovely Christmas. The whole thing was just so pleasant, I feel very lucky. Christmas Eve started with the delightful Bikram yoga class, and was very laid-back and nice. We ultimately went to the children's , mass at Saint Joseph's, which I didn't really like. I love children, but we had to get there an hour early in order to get seats, and there was a thirty minute Christmas recital thing before the service started. Children are adorable, but scratchy violins and tiny girls singing in their tiny lisping voices are cruel and unusual. The priest also decided that, rather than sticking to the script and talking about the nativity story, he should tell a depressing story about the tree that grew up to be the cross on which Jesus was crucified. It's unclear why he thought this was better than a nice story about a baby in a manger, but he's the one with the microphone, so we were at his mercy. Christmas Eve at my grandmother's house was very nice. Someone had decided that we wouldn't watch the traditional movies, but we overrode them. We couldn't find "A Muppet Christmas Carol" though, which was very sad. It seemed likely that my cousin Andrew had hidden it, and we were a little excessively hostile towards him, but we take our muppets very seriously around here. All was forgiven during presents though, and the ensuing wrapping paper war was wonderful. It was especially fun because my Aunt Grace started it, which doesn't make sense unless you know her and know how quiet and sweet she is. She was our Franz Ferdinand though, and it was an epic battle, involving alliances, stockpiling weapons, and using our gift boxes as shields. Good times were had by all. We watched a little of "White Christmas", back by popular demand, but only until they get to Vermont. I swear, I haven't seen the end of that movie in at least five years.&lt;br /&gt;Christmas morning was a delight. Emily helped me wake up by serenading me with "We Three Kings", while Lancaster did her best to lull me back to sleep by purring. I got some very charming presents, including "Pulp Fiction" and a lovely Smith hoodie. We host on Christmas Day, and so there wasn't a lot of downtime after gifts were over. I had to got to Wilson Farms twice before the guests arrived, but I ran into an old friend from high school, which was pleasant and not too awkward. I got to reminiscing then, but kept myself in check by thinking about all the ways in which he is not a suitable mate for me. So many ways.&lt;br /&gt;The young adults in my family are becoming entirely too glamorous, but it was nice to see my cousins. We were a little awkward at first, having exhausted all of our topics for conversation at Christmas Eve, but things eventually began to feel natural again as the night wore on. It helped that my mother decided to buy Christmas crackers this year, just like in "Harry Potter". They didn't contain any admiral hats or live white mice, but i got a bottle opener in mine, as well as a joke about crossing a skeleton and a detective. They had paper hats too, and we all wore them and looked very British and quaint.&lt;br /&gt;Dinner was excellent. Everything got to the table hot, which is a feat for us, and the turkey was moist and delicious. There was much too much food, we'll be eating turkey until I got to Smith, but at least it's quality. Dessert was good too, as I made a recipe I found in the Times Food Section. It was a bourbon chocolate cake, and it turned out well, despite our modifications that we had to make out of necessity. It was very alcoholic, if nothing else, but most people seemed to like it. I would like to someday host Christmas, but I think I'll need to mature somewhat before I'm ready; as it is I need to much ego stroking. I told everyone to try the cake, and then asked "Is it poison?". I also told a bunch of people about how I made the salad dressing, even though I used too much vinegar and it hurt my mouth because it was so sour. I want recognition, darn it. I love Christmas though, and I already have a tiny tree that is overloaded with ornaments, so I think I'm the clear candidate to take over when the time comes. Not that I can think of anyone that hates Christmas, but still. Dibs.&lt;br /&gt;I brought Flora down to show her off. Most of the relatives hadn't seen her before, and she was a big hit after she eventually uncurled. She's a joy. My grandfather asked me what she's for, and I told him she makes me seem quirky and unusual, and that's what she's for. She is also good to hold though, better than a stress ball because she's fragile and depends on me, so I don't want to squeeze. Also, squeezing a hedgehog would be extremely painful. But she makes me feel protective and calm. I liked showing her off, it made her seem novel again, instead of the standard pleasant.&lt;br /&gt;Emily did most of the cleanup this year, and so I just planked around, noming cold turkey and chatting with people. It was nice. Emily introduced us to this great new Christmas album, and we listened to a very sweet song about the farm animals that were in Jesus's manger. It was a good, peaceful conclusion to a merry Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;I feel like things should be over for a bit now. I would be down for a few weeks of suspended animation before going straight to Smith. If my life were a sitcom I would probably get to skip ahead from the holiday special to at least New Years, but it isn't, so I'm going to have to keep on plugging away. I hope things are nice, but I suspect they will be, at least for the most part. My wishes at 11:11 have gotten to be very vague, my life is pretty much just where I want it. I don't want to tempt fate, but I'm happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-5317431132625449855?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/5317431132625449855/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=5317431132625449855' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/5317431132625449855'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/5317431132625449855'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/12/christmas.html' title='Christmas'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3607862220836003039</id><published>2008-12-16T07:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-16T07:36:58.655-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Leaving No Trace</title><content type='html'>I'm feeling really good about things today. I was fighting back tears all of yesterday, I felt like no one would even notice my absence next year, and that I hadn't had any impact on anyone during my time at Geneseo. I don't usually take that attitude, I typically subscribe to the butterfly effect, every-little-thing-changes-the-world-in-some-way view of things. I'm back to that. I went and thanked the Holcomb teachers today, and then went to the fitness center one last time, just to see, not to work out. I have a farewell muffin at MJ, and went back to my room and packed up. I put on the Lucille Ball song "Open A New Window" from "Mame!" while I packed, it seemed fitting. Leaving is kind of sad, but I'm really excited to go to Smith. After all, life's a banquet, and most poor sons of bitches are starving to death. This is a good thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3607862220836003039?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3607862220836003039/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3607862220836003039' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3607862220836003039'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3607862220836003039'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/12/leaving-no-trace.html' title='Leaving No Trace'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-8779549915638142172</id><published>2008-12-12T21:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-12T22:07:26.251-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Goodbye</title><content type='html'>Goodbye Warthogs. Goodbye team mates and Colin and 'Daga field. Goodbye 58 Court St. and every ill-advised kiss and every five-hour or ten-month crush. &lt;br /&gt;Goodbye Letchworth, and Red Jacket and MJ. Goodbye weekend brunch home fries and warm cookies on Thursdays.&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye Holcomb, goodbye demonic three-year olds.&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye Genessee Abbey and Monk Bread. Goodbye perfect five mile run route.&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye Saint Mary's. Goodbye delightful African priest, and keeping an eye out for Sloan despite disliking him, and always trying (and failing) to catch his eye during the passing of the peace.&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye leather chair in the quiet section of the library. Goodbye Sunday afternoons spent reading the Times in Books and Bytes.&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye spur of the moment, hours-long conversations with Elizabeth in the bathroom and library.&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye Mias, goodbye IB. Goodbye Wadsworth Library.&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye hammy TA and people who have heard of, and appreciate NARD.&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye Sturges bells.&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye thumping heart every time I see Goose.&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye "House" nights, and pomegranates eaten on Elizabeth's bed during "How I Met Your Mother".&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye Teresa House and Invisible Children.&lt;br /&gt;Goodbye beautiful friends. I hope it isn't actually goodbye for us. &lt;br /&gt;Hello Smith.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-8779549915638142172?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/8779549915638142172/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=8779549915638142172' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8779549915638142172'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8779549915638142172'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/12/goodbye.html' title='Goodbye'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-9117625979232599159</id><published>2008-12-09T19:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-09T19:53:53.248-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shhh...</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.boston.com/ae/theater_arts/exhibitionist/shh.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://www.boston.com/ae/theater_arts/exhibitionist/shh.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I'm trying to quiet my mind. Three exams and an email from Smith have made it very noisy in my head, and it's getting hard to focus. Danielle doesn't have an exam tomorrow, so she's down the hall watching a movie. I'm less jealous of her leisure than her peace of mind. I wish I had someone I could call that would come over and calm me down. I don't though, so I turned out all but my Christmas lights and put Iron and Wine on very softly. I'm taking deep breaths, and I'm starting to feel better. I went running today as an attempt to calm down and make myself tired enough to go to bed early so I would be well-rested for my exam. I've decided I want to be someone that de-stresses with running. It helped for a few hours actually, but I'm back to feeling like I swallowed snakes now that bedtime is approaching. Shhh... It's hard to reassure myself that I'll be ok, that I have all but guaranteed A's in most of my classes, and the exams are just like every other test I took this semester. Brad and Nate are recommending me for SCA internships, and I'm taking a WFR course over break, so all I'll need to be a crew leader next summer is a drivers licence. I have work lined up for winter break, and I'll be home a week from today. Breathe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-9117625979232599159?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/9117625979232599159/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=9117625979232599159' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/9117625979232599159'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/9117625979232599159'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/12/shhh.html' title='Shhh...'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-218097231262450341</id><published>2008-12-06T11:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-06T11:51:49.290-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thank You!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://trendandthecity.files.wordpress.com/2007/11/pink-christmas-tree.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 480px;" src="http://trendandthecity.files.wordpress.com/2007/11/pink-christmas-tree.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I love it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-218097231262450341?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/218097231262450341/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=218097231262450341' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/218097231262450341'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/218097231262450341'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/12/thank-you.html' title='Thank You!'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-5393912409562077181</id><published>2008-12-05T20:01:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-05T20:46:20.944-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Headaches</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://monsters.monstrous.com/Pictures/Chimera01.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 417px;" src="http://monsters.monstrous.com/Pictures/Chimera01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I had a great day. It started out slow, but then it got better. I had a tricky morning, I woke up an hour early because a friend &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;txted&lt;/span&gt; me to tell me they didn't want to go to the hockey game. It wasn't a big deal, I had someone else to go with, and I went back to bed, but it made me sad. I ended up &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;txting&lt;/span&gt; her back though, explaining, or at least outlining how I felt, and we made dinner plans. I'm oversensitive. I just feel insecure because I lost my two best friends at school from last year, and I never see anyone, and it makes me lonely. It isn't usually a big deal, but I miss Flora, and I had an awful night's sleep, so I was more inclined to get upset. Neediness isn't attractive though, so I'm trying to improve. I also didn't do as well on a paper as I had hoped, but I can pull an A if I don't choke on the final. It's my best class this semester, I'm not worried. Things started to look up when classes let out, I borrowed "Olive the Other Reindeer" from the library and found a perfect Christmas present for someone. I also hung out with Logic Boy. It's bad, but he knows the most about my life out of everyone at school. We talk online everyday, and he almost always comments on  my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Facebook&lt;/span&gt; status changes. He actually just &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;IMed&lt;/span&gt; me, as I'm typing this. It's nice having someone care about me, but I suspect that's a weak bad way to view the situation. It's in hand though.&lt;br /&gt;I went to a nice...er...interesting play this afternoon. The opening act was a medley of fragmented scenes from a musical that my Stage Musical TA Aaron is writing about Elizabeth &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Cady&lt;/span&gt; Stanton. I love him (in a way. I really enjoy having him on campus and knowing someone in theater productions.) but the play wasn't really ready. It has potential, but the actors didn't know their lines or even their cues, they were just reading parts of scenes out of scripts.&lt;br /&gt;The actual play was about AIDS and so incredibly sad. I only went because I wanted to see Aaron's piece, but I had to stay. It was about a woman named Olivia that had AIDS, and how she cared for her mother until she died, and then got sick herself. I actually cried a little, it was very moving, but in an unsubtle way. The actors did a good job, but making people cry with stories about AIDS in Africa is like fishing with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;dynamite&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;I had a big family dinner with my friends tonight. It was great seeing people, I hadn't seen Dana since before the break, not counting glimpses across campus when I've been too far away to say hi. At the same time, I felt like no one heard me. I kept wanting to tell people about my great day, but I don't think I even mentioned going to the AIDS play. I just never found an opening. I asked multiple times if people wanted to hang out after dinner, but no one responded. We all went back to Dana and Nicole's room, but because Chelsea invited herself and then I invited myself. I sometimes do something that I call &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;goldfishing&lt;/span&gt;, where I open my mouth, but I can't get any sound to come out. It tends to happen when someone I only kind of know says hi to me, and it's unbelievably frustrating. That's sort of how I felt tonight. No one hears me. Then of course there's the standard feeling alienated during camp talk. That wasn't too bad, especially now that I'm not the only one who wishes it would burn down, but it was there. And Clarence moved away from me when I played with his hair but luxuriated like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Anouk&lt;/span&gt; when Nicole did it. It's all about being desirable as a friend though. If I want people to like me I just need to be myself, and not treat every meal like an audition. I love my friends, and I really think things will get better. I wish I could explain myself better, maybe then things would be easier.&lt;br /&gt;24 days until my birthday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-5393912409562077181?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/5393912409562077181/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=5393912409562077181' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/5393912409562077181'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/5393912409562077181'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/12/headaches.html' title='Headaches'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1187092662544203092</id><published>2008-12-03T12:10:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-03T13:00:46.461-08:00</updated><title type='text'>People Are Delightful</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v57/Chi123/in_ur_oatmeal.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 497px; height: 324px;" src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v57/Chi123/in_ur_oatmeal.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a sort of sixth sense for when I'm going to get a package. As I checked my email, my mail-sense tingled, and I hoped that I was going to get something. I wasn't expecting anything, so I was especially pleased when I did have a message telling me to pick up my package from the mailroom. "What could it be?" I wondered. My next thought was "I hope it's cookies!". I don't typically get random cookie-grams, but it has happened in the past. Trying to brace myself in case it wasn't cookies or a giant acceptance letter that was too big to fit in my mailbox, I tried to think of a boring package possibility. There is no such thing as a boring package though. Even getting freeze-dried mealworms was exciting. The package turned out to be a finals care package from the Geneseo Presbyterian Church. So it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;was &lt;/span&gt;cookies. It was also goldfish crackers, a juice box, chocolate kisses, popcorn, hot cider mix, lots of nice treats from a church that I don't even attend. And what has Saint Mary's sent me lately? Hmmm? No, I'm kidding, but it was so nice of the Presbyterians to do that. I wish my church did that, it would be such a nice volunteer thing. I think it would be a lot of fun making up boxes of treats for stressed out students. I'm really pleased about this surprise gift. I'm going to try to do something nice for someone today, just to pass it on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1187092662544203092?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1187092662544203092/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1187092662544203092' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1187092662544203092'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1187092662544203092'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/12/people-are-delightful.html' title='People Are Delightful'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-7376577071914939395</id><published>2008-12-01T16:59:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T17:27:02.363-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ice Knights</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.hockeymax.ca/images/hockey_polar_bears.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 500px; height: 355px;" src="http://www.hockeymax.ca/images/hockey_polar_bears.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am on a mission. I am going to go to the men's ice hockey game this Friday night, and I'm not going to go by myself. It doesn't sound that ambitious, but it is. How sad is that?  It isn't like the prom or anything, and I just want a friend to go, I'm not looking for a date, but it's entirely possible that I'll fail. I 've already asked someone and been turned down. I'm refusing to take it personally though. She's legitimately busy. I know finals are coming, but I don't think two hours will make or break anyone. I'm pulling out the big guns on this one, I might even ask people that I'm only friendly acquaintances with, that I don't consider friends. I only have so many people that I consider friends, I'll run out fast. It's character building.&lt;br /&gt;I remembered to say "rabbit rabbit" this morning, AND Smith got my college official's report. These are signs. Plus, Brad actually checked his facebook and is willing to be a reference for my SCA internship application. Things are going well. I'm going to be cautiously optimistic about the hockey game.&lt;br /&gt;We had our first Sunday of Advent mass last night. It was freezing raining so the choir leader couldn't make it, and most of the choir wasn't there anyway. I went despite the weather because I was sure we were going to sing "O Come O Come Emmanuel" and we totally did. The church was practically empty though, so I felt very self-conscious because I'm not a very good singer and it's a kinda tricky song. The Marine walked in during the opening hymn because he's suddenly the churchgoing type, and I got all embarrassed. Not for any good reason, just because. It's a small-ish school, I need to be able to function around people that make me feel awkward because there's really no avoiding them. Awkwardness aside, it was an interesting mass, I think I'll appreciate the choir all the more this week.&lt;br /&gt;I was really excited about my Advent calendar last year. I was still living with Laura, and things were going really well. Danielle is a nice roommate, and I talk to her more than I've ever talked to a roommate, but I miss living with Laura sometimes. I don't watch "Law and Order" anymore. I tried, but I don't like it anymore. But back to the calendar. I remember telling Chelsea that I was so excited to open the doors, I wanted the days to go faster. This year I'm much more laidback about it, which is weird because it's a chocolate calendar.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I could go back and visit last year. It occurred to me as I was walking to dinner that my sort of friend Paige probably eats dinner by herself every night because she lives by herself. I never ate by myself last year, or if I did I don't remember doing it. I don't mind a lot of the time, but it's weird to think about what I lost, and how long it's reasonable to stay angry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-7376577071914939395?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/7376577071914939395/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=7376577071914939395' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7376577071914939395'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7376577071914939395'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/12/ice-knights.html' title='Ice Knights'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-6640513077048880891</id><published>2008-11-29T21:00:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-12-01T08:02:39.557-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Ring! Ring! Traveling Pants!</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.themoens.com/Photos/Events/snowSculpture/y2005/big%20IMG0021.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 640px; height: 480px;" src="http://www.themoens.com/Photos/Events/snowSculpture/y2005/big%20IMG0021.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just watched "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants 2". I love corny movies, I think that in some ways they have more to offer than smart movies that make me feel intellectual, and culturally aware. I know that I'm playing right into their hands, but I really related to the characters. I don't know how up people are on the Traveling Pants series, but it's a story about friends, and this movie covers a lot of friend issues that I've been dealing with lately. There's drifting from old friends, problem making and trusting new friends, and feeling like people don't care as much about you as you do for them. That's a biggie. What I liked about the movie though, was how it made it seem worth fighting to keep the people you care about. Even when it's hard to love someone, as long as one person is willing to step up and fight to keep the connection until the bad time is over, things can always work out. Giving up isn't the key to happiness. There will be times when losses need to be cut, but so much of the time it's worth trying. I like movies that give me hope, and this one did. Life isn't like a tween movie, but that doesn't mean I won't have great friends or handsome Greek men that fall in love with me. The Greek men can wait actually, as I'm in a good not-dating phase, but the friends are important.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-6640513077048880891?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/6640513077048880891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=6640513077048880891' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6640513077048880891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6640513077048880891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/blog-post.html' title='Ring! Ring! Traveling Pants!'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1756369849099878638</id><published>2008-11-26T13:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-26T13:18:27.569-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving Break</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/AUN/JDG0225%7ECozy-Cabin-Posters.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 323px;" src="http://imagecache2.allposters.com/images/pic/AUN/JDG0225%7ECozy-Cabin-Posters.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so nice to be home. Aunt Grace came over to watch "House" last night, and it was just like old times.&lt;br /&gt;I mostly just lumped around today, but it's only the first day of break. I slept in, and read a bit, and watched "Lars and the Real Girl", which is excellent. Everyone says they were surprised by how good it was, but I thought it looked good from the trailers.&lt;br /&gt;I just put a bunch of Christmas songs on my iPod, and now I'm going to go for a run. It's cold out, but I should probably leave the house at some point. When I get back I'm going to build a fire and study stats. It sounds nicer than I think it will be, but I want to do well on the final. Professor Pasti**o actually suggested we curl up in front of a fire with our textbooks, so I think I'll follow his advice.&lt;br /&gt;I tried soy milk hot chocolate today. It's drinkable, but not as good as cow milk. That's about what I expected.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1756369849099878638?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1756369849099878638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1756369849099878638' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1756369849099878638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1756369849099878638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/thanksgiving-break.html' title='Thanksgiving Break'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-4049477091613265059</id><published>2008-11-24T12:25:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-24T12:46:48.564-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Freaking Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.accidentalscientist.com/images/ThePhotoHu.TheMysteryoftheScreamingWoman_CF83/screamingwoman.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 250px; height: 298px;" src="http://www.accidentalscientist.com/images/ThePhotoHu.TheMysteryoftheScreamingWoman_CF83/screamingwoman.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I give the impression of being a pretty mellow person that I think is pretty accurate. My rugby friends are always saying they have a hard time imagining me getting mad or yelling at someone. That's a little extreme, I get angry, but I tend to fume instead of exploding. Today though, I had my own personal Mount Etna moment. I mentioned in my last post that the Dean's office hadn't mailed my forms, and I was going to go straighten things out today. I filled out the forms and bought stamps, and put double the required postage, just in case, but the woman at the front desk told me that they hadn't lost it, it wasn't a post office screw up, they just hadn't gotten around it until this morning. So I had been planning on insisting it be in the mail today, and it was, but I had no control over the situation whatsoever. She was completely unapologetic too. I actually thanked her, and walked out. Halfway down the hall though, I turned around and walked back, and told her that I had turned my form in a month ago, and I had told them it needed to be sent out by the fifteenth, and I had been led to believe it would be sent out within a week of my submitting it. It probably wasn't her fault, but I was angry and I wanted to tell someone that this is not an ok way to run things. She indicated to the stack of transfer applications, and I wanted to tell her that the vast number of students fleeing should indicate a problem. I was incredibly angry, and her refusal to even apologize only made things worse. I tore the envelope and forms into shreds and angrily threw the pieces away, and banged out of the Union, viciously kicking doors. I needed to rant, but I don't really have anyone to rant to here, so I called Mum and got her voicemail. I ranted and raved and used some very strong language in what I think counts as a scream, all in front of everyone that happened to be walking in front of Steuben Hall. That's the power of a tantrum though, I didn't even feel embarrassed. It seemed right that there would be people to witness my fury. It was big, people should notice when someone is feeling something as strong as what I was feeling. It passed quickly though, and I was left feeling peaceful and slightly anemic from being so aroused right at the start of my day. I almost fell asleep during Humanities I was so tired, but it was a wholesome tiredness, like after you've gone running or lifted weights. It felt so good cutting lose like that. I've been pretty restrained lately, and I knew I was going to need a release sooner rather than later. I'm glad it was screaming and not crying. There's a time and a place for crying, but feeling angry hit the spot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-4049477091613265059?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/4049477091613265059/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=4049477091613265059' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4049477091613265059'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4049477091613265059'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/freaking-out.html' title='Freaking Out'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3360370334399638166</id><published>2008-11-23T13:18:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-23T13:58:34.873-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Frustration</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.filmreference.com/images/sjff_01_img0020.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 516px; height: 361px;" src="http://www.filmreference.com/images/sjff_01_img0020.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;I finally got my Bannerweb code for Smith, and it turns out they never got my school official report. They won't hold it against me will they? I'm going to go into the Dean's office and kick some ass first thing tomorrow morning, I filled out another form and have the stamped, addressed envelope, and I'm going to emphasize how it needed to be in the mail two weeks ago, and I gave them the forms more than a month ago so they send it out tomorrow. I'm really furious about this.&lt;br /&gt;The orchestra performed "Alexander Nevsky" today. Jill and Elizabeth are in orchestra, so I went to support them and avoid work. I sat by myself because no one else felt like going (a common theme these days), but I had a nice time anyway. The music was very beautiful, and even though I was fuming about the Dean's office and how it is ruining my life, I felt better during the concert. I actually forgot where I was and felt slightly guilty for being so angry, because I thought I was in church.&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait for Thanksgiving, I'm so excited. Not for the food really, but I want it to be Christmas time. I'm totally planning on making a Christmas playlist for my iPod for the Turkey Trot. My friends and I aren't doing any sort of at-school holiday gathering this year. I'm sort of disappointed, but Halloween was booty, so maybe it's for the best. There's always the rugby holiday party. I wanted to try out soy milk hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps and a candycane stirrer and have that be the thing I brought to our gathering, but forwards are bringing entrees, so I'll just have to hold onto that idea. I think it sounds very delicious though, provided you use the nice Droste cocco powder and not nasty Swiss Miss. This is the last Christmas where all of my non-rugby friends and former-friends-who-are-now-just-friends-of-friends will be together, so it's sort of sad that we aren't doing anything. We had this plan to buy each other Christmas tree ornaments every year, so that by the time we graduated we'd all have the means to decorate our own tree that we'll have cuz we'll be all grown up, but I don't know if we're still doing that. It seems like paying a friendship tithe to just toss a gift to someone as you pass them on the quad.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3360370334399638166?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3360370334399638166/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3360370334399638166' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3360370334399638166'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3360370334399638166'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/frustration.html' title='Frustration'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3206426357146237561</id><published>2008-11-22T09:12:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-22T09:55:38.342-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Twilight</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://biblioharlot.files.wordpress.com/2008/05/official_twilight_movie_poster.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 600px; height: 888px;" src="http://biblioharlot.files.wordpress.com/2008/05/official_twilight_movie_poster.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven't read the "Twilight" series. I didn't even realize they were a big deal until the last one came out this summer. They're about beautiful, angsty vampires though, so when my friend Oaks said she wanted to go see the movie last night, I figured I'd be able to catch on pretty fast, what with my previous experience with the sexy vampire genre.&lt;br /&gt;The theater was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;packed&lt;/span&gt;. Not only that, but it was an enthusiastic crowd, people were taking pictures of themselves in the theater. They wanted mementos of the night that a mere ticket stub apparently cannot provide. I thought the crowd was pretty interesting actually. They all clearly loved the books, but they kept laughing at the really romantic parts. I think it was to cover for the fact that they really want an obsessive vampire love to watch them sleep, and be prepared to kill people that threaten them, but it isn't really socially acceptable to say that you want that. So they had to cover.&lt;br /&gt;What I thought was strange though, was the heroine's name. She's called Bella Swan, which is my fantasy self's name. It's a nice name, I can see someone else thinking of it, but it was weird. I didn't know that was her name. It contributed to the feeling that I was experiencing of having my fantasy projected on a movie screen. They even used the right music, lots of Iron and Wine. I guess I'll have to accept the fact that I don't have terribly original fantasies. Getting it down to the name though, is just weird. I wonder if there are hundreds of other girls using that name independently of "Twilight".&lt;br /&gt;It's a corny movie, but I liked it. I recently came across an old blog post of Emily's where she referred to a conversation we had, where I said I like most things, even when I know they're bad. It's very true, and last night was a perfect example. I also went to an a cappella show where a boy forgot a whole verse of his song and just stood there, frozen, while his friends beat boxed behind him. I &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;paid &lt;/span&gt;to see that, but I wasn't mad the way Nicole would have been. I was having a nice night (aside from missing NARD. I kept hoping they would show up as a suprise, and I overheard the people behind me saying the same.) and most of the singing was good. "Twilight" was silly and awkward, but I liked it. Oaks is going to bring the books up after Thanksgiving so I can read them.&lt;br /&gt;One problem with movies like that, with epic, gut-wrenching love, is that it makes me feel sort of bad that I don't have anyone who wants to watch &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;me &lt;/span&gt;sleep. I asked someone out yesterday (before the movie), but I did it via facebook because I don't have his number and I have the emotional maturity of a blueberry scone (Why go halfway with the vampire-geek theme? I had to throw a Buffy quote in there somewhere.). He's a male rugger, and nice enough, but he hasn't responded, and even if he says yes (which I don't see happening because he's a senior and enough of a slut to need to take a bet that he could go for the rest of the semester without having sex. We would only have like a week to hang out before the semester ended, and I have to assume he'll want to have as much sex as possible, right away, as soon as he can, which I'm not up for. Plus, I'm insecure and question whether anyone will ever love me.) it wouldn't be that kind of situation. It wouldn't be earth-shattering, it would be...I don't know. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Not &lt;/span&gt;earth-shattering. He's a drummer in a band, and a psych major, and he likes comic books and camping, and snowboarding. He was shy in high school too, so he had the same reaction to people suddenly hitting on him that I did when I got to college. Even with this stuff in common, it wouldn't be like "Twilight" because he isn't dramatic; one of the nicest things about him is how laidback he is. You can't have vampire-style lovin' without losts of drama though. Also, I sound more into him than I actually am. We hung out Thursday night, but I never gave him much thought before that, and I'm not really sure what made him different enough for me to ask him out. I sort of feel like it was the asking that was important, and he can say no, but I've taken a step in the right direction. I put myself out there again, and made myself slightly more vulnerable than I would by just hooking up with him. That's sort of big. I'm not even sure at this point whether I'd even like dating him, but I wanted to try asking.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3206426357146237561?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3206426357146237561/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3206426357146237561' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3206426357146237561'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3206426357146237561'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/twilight.html' title='Twilight'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-8861574997796447606</id><published>2008-11-20T16:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-20T16:37:21.258-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Adventures</title><content type='html'>I loved the Abbey so much last week that I included it in my desperate attempts to make conversation with Clarence babbling, and suggested it might be a nice run. My friend had told me it was only three miles, so when he suggested we run it together on Sunday I said yes. It's pretty flat for Geneseo, the road goes along the bottom of a hill, so it seemed completely do-able. Just to be sure I wouldn't embarrass myself though, I asked my friend Brittney if she would like to go earlier in the week for a practice run. She's a good sport, and agreed, but she was only free to go after 3:30. Since we planned on running there and walking back we knew we'd be cutting it close with the daylight, but we figured it wouldn't take us too long to run three miles. We both thought about wimping out when the time finally came, it was cold, and we've both been skipping the gym, but we stuck to our plan. It wasn't a bad run too, it was pretty flat, and we made sure to face traffic and I only had one ear bud in because my ear buds are ghetto and only one works, but it let me hear if a car was coming. We ran and ran, and eventually we began to get tired. I was secretly wondering if I had messed up the directions, but I didn't say anything because I thought it would be bad for morale. We eventually saw the sign for the abbey, and turned down the road. It was a two second drive, so I assumed we were almost there, and taking a page from Emily's book I cranked up the S Club 7. The abbey still wasn't in sight midway through the song though, so I started it again. It actually took three playings before we got there, but we made it in the end. Walking into the delicious bread smell was wonderful. Brittney loves churches, and we browsed in the bread shop, and read some of the spiritual guidance books. The monks were out and about too, so that was very nice. They wear robes and everything. We sat in the chapel for a bit, but it was getting dark, so we didn't stay very long. It had taken us much longer than we had expected to get to the abbey, and it was already dark out. I was pretty stressed out by what I thought was our awful time, it seemed like the Turkey Trot would be too much for me. We were walking back, chatting about our lives, trying to keep warm and not freak out about how dark and scary things were when a car that had passed us pulled back and stopped next to us. We were both having terrified serial killer thoughts, but it was a woman that we had seen at the abbey. She offered to give us a ride, and even though every story about taking rides from strangers went through my mind, we got in the car. (In our defense, we both thought she was a nun. She was wearing a scarf on her head, and we had seen her talking to a monk in a way that made it seem like they were pals. And we were more scared of being hit by a car then having to overpower a tiny Asian woman.) She was totally harmless and took us back to campus, so now I feel like I can say I've hitchhiked and I never need to do it again. When we got back to Steuben though, we mapquested our route, and discovered that we had actually ran like five miles. So whoo us. I'm ready to OWN the Turkey Trot.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-8861574997796447606?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/8861574997796447606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=8861574997796447606' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8861574997796447606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8861574997796447606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/adventures.html' title='Adventures'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3731685619411050457</id><published>2008-11-17T19:48:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-17T19:57:12.426-08:00</updated><title type='text'>C'mon Get Happy</title><content type='html'>*I found someone on facebook that I knew from SCA and friended her, so maybe we'll get a chance to catch up a bit&lt;br /&gt;*I finished a paper (draft) and the professor pushed the due date back, so I'll have time for him to give me feedback on it&lt;br /&gt;*I made conversation with someone before class today (it's a big deal for me, I usually use that time for writing in my journal.)&lt;br /&gt;*I just downloaded Tayler Swift's new album off of Ruckus, and it's really good&lt;br /&gt;*Brittney and I are going to run to the Abbey on Thursday for practice and to see if I'm physically capable of doing it with Clarence on Sunday&lt;br /&gt;*Elizabeth shared her pomegranate during "How I Met Your Mother"&lt;br /&gt;*I scratched my "Angel" itch by watching all of season five in three days (shameful? yes, obviously, but it was sooo good. like eating a pint of ice cream)&lt;br /&gt;*It snowed like it meant it today&lt;br /&gt;*I'm going home in a little bit more than a week&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3731685619411050457?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3731685619411050457/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3731685619411050457' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3731685619411050457'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3731685619411050457'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/cmon-get-happy.html' title='C&apos;mon Get Happy'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3218877760474935224</id><published>2008-11-16T09:11:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-16T10:48:55.660-08:00</updated><title type='text'>How I Learned To Stop Whining (At Least For Today)</title><content type='html'>I was writing a post earlier today, all about how I feel alienated from my friends, and all they do is let me down when I want something other than a warm body to eat next to or watch tv with, but I had to dash off to go to the Outing Club trip to The Genesee Abbey.&lt;br /&gt;I had never been to the Abbey before, and it was very nice. We weren't allowed to see where the monks live or bake, but there was a bookstore, and a bread store, and a chapel. It smelled like bread, and was very quiet and peaceful. I read a little about fasting and virginity, and bought a loaf of maple bread. They had Thought For Today cards, and I took one. I had a bad night of sitting in my room feeling unloved, watching episode after episode of "Angel" because no one wanted to spend time with me, and feeling resentful. It carried over to this morning, and I was grouchy at brunch because my future housemates were stealing all the plates for our apartment. They're going to have service for twenty, and it's all going to be the ugly CAS cups and plates. They don't want to go to garage sales and put the effort into making the apartment nice and cozy. They aren't even going to buy beds, they're going to pull Krista's and sleep on mattresses on the floor. And they don't understand why that bothers me.&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. I was sad and lonely, but the Abbey made me feel better. I feel really good now. I've also decided to try to make one new friend this semester. A real friend. I've tried moaning about being lonely, now I'm going to try doing something constructive to fix the problem.&lt;br /&gt;A Thought For Today:&lt;br /&gt;This is the beginning of a new day. God has given me this day to use as I will. I can waste it or use it for good. What I do today is important because I'm exchanging a day of my life for it. When tomorrow comes, this day will be gone forever, leaving in its place something I traded for it. I want it to be gain, not loss; good, not evil; success, not failure; in order that I should not regret the price I paid for it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3218877760474935224?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3218877760474935224/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3218877760474935224' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3218877760474935224'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3218877760474935224'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/how-i-learned-to-stop-whining-at-least.html' title='How I Learned To Stop Whining (At Least For Today)'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3656774421754087295</id><published>2008-11-14T19:38:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-14T19:53:52.896-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Crossing Over</title><content type='html'>Our rookies became new vets today, and we're all very proud of them. It was a fun day for everyone, the vets had a good time, but the rookies had fun too, and didn't feel hazed. We made tee shirts with their position, and they made us alternative name beads (I'm Poker Face, because I apparently don't show a lot of emotion. This is news to me, but Britteny confirmed it when I asked her. I don't know how to take this, so I'm going to appreciate it wasn't worse and move on. ), and we had all kinds of fun activities all afternoon and evening. There was an awesome obstacle course, and a scavenger hunt, and tv tag, and fish bowl races. We gave them their name beads and tee shirts at the end, and had a mini graffiti party. It's hard thinking of things to write, I need to be in the right head to be on the spot hilarious, and it had been a long day. I felt extra pressure to be cool on Emma's shirt, because I was the one to present her with her name, and in the process I accidentally awkwardly sounded like I was confessing a straight girl crush on her. ("We named you Femme Fatale because you're really hot...and you're tough. And you knock people's teeth out." So smooth.)&lt;br /&gt;People sometimes say that they got as drunk as they did because they don't count their drinks. I had a similar issue today, except with candy. All the rookies had to bring candy to the initiation, and everyone was eating it, so I ate it. I think I had about pound of chocolate today. I feel like a third grader on Halloween, except guiltier. I also accidentally inhaled a peppermint patty shot. It's probably all in my head, but I feel like I can feel the schnapps in my lungs. It worries me.&lt;br /&gt;Awkwardness, stomachaches and aspiration pneumonia aside though, it was a really fun day. I left the party sort of early because I'm tired and too full to dance around a sweltering basement, but I might head over to the IB later. We'll see.&lt;br /&gt;I'm so glad I play rugby.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3656774421754087295?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3656774421754087295/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3656774421754087295' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3656774421754087295'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3656774421754087295'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/crossing-over.html' title='Crossing Over'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-6805013298513855834</id><published>2008-11-13T09:33:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T09:41:33.591-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am A Retarded Monkey Child</title><content type='html'>It's sad really. They say that math yields to brute force, but I'm here to tell you that just isn't true. I used enough math studying brute force to move a freaking planet in preparing for this test, but it just wasn't enough. The look on my professor's face was heartbreaking, that hopeful smile, as I handed in my intellectually fetid exam paper. I imagine him taking the tests home, working through the pile over the weekend, maybe at his kitchen table, coming to mine, and remembering how I went to talk to him, and the useless, well-meaning advice he gave me, and looking at my answers. And crying. I don't think he'll actually cry, but he's someone that loves stats so much he'll at least me offended at my presumptuousness to try to be a psychologist when by all rights I should be selling burgers and not wasting a spot at Geneseo or   office of admission at Smith's time. I had thought I would feel better after the test was over, but I just want to run away from home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-6805013298513855834?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/6805013298513855834/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=6805013298513855834' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6805013298513855834'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6805013298513855834'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-am-retarded-monkey-child.html' title='I Am A Retarded Monkey Child'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-6330124550072450897</id><published>2008-11-10T18:21:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-10T18:39:40.382-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Don't Want To Wait</title><content type='html'>My SCA leader Brad recently got a facebook, and he's been uploading all of his pictures. I look at them, and I feel like I'm wasting my life. I wish I could be out in the wilderness, building stuff instead of sitting at my desk trying to write a paper, and actually looking at pictures online. SCA leaders are the kind of people that I want to be. I like being outside, and I like working with my hands until you're exhausted and starving. That's what living feels like, and that isn't what I'm doing right now. I loved milking the cows when they came to visit the campus. Nate (another SCA leader) spent a year working on a goat farm, and that sounded really appealling to me. I would love to do something like that, but David Sedaris wrote a very discouraging essay about how working on a farm actually sucks. Granted, he was a fruit picker, not a goat milker, but it still gives me pause. I looked it up, and you only need to be 21 and have a driver's lisence to be a crew leader. You also need a couple of certifications, but I could do that. So maybe I'll apply next summer. I want to have that kind of life. I don't want to be a hobo like Brad, but it seems like a good escape from college. I have that feeling where I want to knock peoples' hats off, it's time to go back into the woods.&lt;br /&gt;It was psychology day today, and as it turns out, I'm a failure as a psych major. I'm not going to get into grad school because I am terrible at stats, and so I won't be able to get a job in psychology. This isn't totally unrelated to my sudden urge to run away and raise goats, but that had been on my mind for awhile anyway. I want to get away. I want an adventure.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-6330124550072450897?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/6330124550072450897/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=6330124550072450897' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6330124550072450897'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6330124550072450897'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/i-dont-want-to-wait.html' title='I Don&apos;t Want To Wait'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-4350057279969479489</id><published>2008-11-09T13:47:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-09T14:04:05.670-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Unfairness</title><content type='html'>A second year student at Geneseo was hit by a truck last week. They think she was out for a run, and it's been speculated that she probably had headphones on and didn't hear the truck coming up from behind her. She was in the hospital, but rumors fly all over on a college campus, and so it wasn't clear if she was ok, or not. As it turns out, she wasn't; she died today. The president of the school sent out an email about it earlier this afternoon. I didn't know her, she was a communicative disorders and sciences major, but he wrote a little bit about her in the email. She was on the varsity soccer team, and she was really smart, she made the President's List last spring. It's such a waste. It's been on my mind all afternoon. I feel sort of guilty, and I've been trying to study and be productive because she was smart and made good grades, and she got hit by the truck while she was running, something I should do more often. It makes me reevaluate the way I spend my time. I have three papers due in the next couple of weeks, and I've been putting them off, but I started one today. Even if I didn't know her, I still feel like I need to be better now.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-4350057279969479489?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/4350057279969479489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=4350057279969479489' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4350057279969479489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4350057279969479489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/unfairness.html' title='Unfairness'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-2326704001858989489</id><published>2008-11-06T20:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T20:33:29.345-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My New Favorite Game</title><content type='html'>I finally got to read the Sunday Times today. I typically skim the actual news, but I love Modern Love and the wedding announcements. I like to see where people went to college, and it's one of my shallower ambitions to someday have a New York Times wedding announcement. It's just a fantasy, but I like it all the more when people who went to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;SUNY&lt;/span&gt; schools make the cut. I especially liked the piece about farm weddings that they featured last week, and it set me off planning my imaginary wedding. My lack of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;besties&lt;/span&gt; makes the game a little less fun, I want to talk about my plans, and get input on flower arrangements, and boys don't like this game. Clarence refused to play, and made me feel stupid for wanting to plan a fake wedding. (T*m &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Ke&lt;/span&gt;*&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;ly&lt;/span&gt; once told me I made him feel small a lot of the time, and I didn't really get it, but Clarence does it all the time, so now I understand how unpleasant feels. It's making me more aware of how I act, so I don't do it by accident. I made the effort after Tom said it, and I feel like I'm at least better than I used to be.) Flowers are hard for me to visualize, especially because I don't know when things are in season, or how they'd smell together. Would a sunflower lavender bouquet work? I love lilacs, but I want a summer wedding, so they'd be over, and they wilt really fast. Gardenias are nice too though, they smell so pretty, and I really like tulips...clearly I'll need help when the real thing comes around.&lt;br /&gt;I found some pretty cool places in Maine, farms, and also inns on the ocean. It's such a fun game, almost better than the Sims. Is there a wedding planning Sims, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;cuz&lt;/span&gt; there totally could be, it would sell.  I figure for the menu I would do a choice of soul food, or traditional New England meal, because that would cover carnivores and vegetarians.&lt;br /&gt;My &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;SCA&lt;/span&gt; crew leader got married this past fall, which helped put weddings on my mind. I didn't know until I randomly clicked on her profile and saw that her status was "married". She had an outdoor wedding, and it looked like a lot of fun. I think weddings are kind of like adult proms, but I have higher expectations because I'm guaranteed a date at my wedding. Prom kind of sucked, and I'm not trying to recapture anything, because I didn't fit into the stereotype fun prom story. This would be a chance to be princess-y, but in a way that is tailored to me, with bluegrass and peach pie. It's a fun game for a Thursday night, if nothing else.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-2326704001858989489?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/2326704001858989489/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=2326704001858989489' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2326704001858989489'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2326704001858989489'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-new-favorite-game.html' title='My New Favorite Game'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-7493799227099748956</id><published>2008-11-06T12:17:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T12:51:34.880-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Six Dollars</title><content type='html'>I have six dollars in my wallet, and as I've decided to try to spend less money, I've given a lot of thought to how I want to spend it. "Threepenny Opera" tickets are $5, but I might need to go to the bank before I but my ticket, because there are so many incidentals. I wanted to get dinner on Main Street tonight because it's the paper plate awards, so I won't be able to eat in the dining hall, but that's too impractical. It doesn't matter though, as I only have enough money on my meal plan to use $10 a day, and I indulged in a $3 apple cider at lunch, so I can't afford dinner. I took a bag of bread from the toast station, so I'll have toast with honey for dinner, but &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;that'll&lt;/span&gt; be the end of the bread (the bag was mostly empty when I took it). I want to go see "High School Musical 3" tomorrow after "Threepenny", because it's only $4 at midnight, and I'm justifying it by not going to the absurdly expensive ($10!) date party. I wasn't going to go anyway, but it's still money that I'm not spending. I'm skipping tonight's party with Sig Nu also, that's another $3 saved.&lt;br /&gt;I heard somewhere that the average college student spends about $5000 on alcohol every &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;year&lt;/span&gt;. That's insane, but I guess it all adds up. A party averages at about $3, if you pregame you chip into a bottle of something or other, that's probably another $2, the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;IB&lt;/span&gt; costs $5 if you're under (and not a girls rugger, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;cuz&lt;/span&gt; Colin lets us in for free), and even more if you're over, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;cuz&lt;/span&gt; then you're buying drinks. So let's say $10 a night, (which is probably conservative), it seems like a lot of people go out twice a week (others go out every night, but that's probably why the number is so huge, they're inflating the data with their alcoholism.), that's $20 a week spent on partying. I could easily see that adding up to big numbers. It's something to think about at the very least.&lt;br /&gt;Back to my $6. It's probably going to go to theater tickets. I sort of half regret my habit of just dumping the change from my wallet pocket into the collection plate at church. It was almost all quarters, so I gave about $5 last week. I'm all for giving to the church, but it's sort of giving beyond my means, especially because I'm pretty sure it doesn't actually go to the care and feeding of the priests. I always feel so pressured though, because you hear stories about itinerant preachers who get stiffed when the collection plate goes around, and their children are barefoot and hungry, and it's sad. Granted these are priests, and so they don't have children, but still. I don't want to be stingy.&lt;br /&gt;I'm still reading Les Miserables (I'm a full time student and it's the size of a cinder block. Don't judge me.), and it's all about poverty and making a tiny amount of money go really far, which is what inspired this post. The truly frugal  person would just skip the play, or at least not go see the movie, but Aaron is in the play, and he's a senior, and Oaks and I never get to see each other now that rugby is over, and we both love &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;HSM&lt;/span&gt;. So my big sacrifice is going to be skipping the field trip to the adult store, and eating one meal a day, supplemented with stolen bread and fruit. And stolen honey. Eaten off of stolen plates, with stolen silverware. Wow, I'm kind of shameless.  Or thrifty. I'm going with thrifty.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-7493799227099748956?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/7493799227099748956/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=7493799227099748956' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7493799227099748956'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7493799227099748956'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/six-dollars.html' title='Six Dollars'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-2449904664414069456</id><published>2008-11-06T06:23:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-06T06:35:31.459-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Waiting is Hard</title><content type='html'>I sent my application in on Monday, and I want to find out if I got in or not. I don't know when they're going to let me know, presumably not before the final deadline, but I'm dying here. Not literally, but I want to hear back. I was doing an okay job of not thinking about it, but my friends keep asking. They're supportive and great about it, but I don't want to be reminded. It's doubly bad, because it reminds me that if I do get in I'll be leaving my nice friends that care about my special causes and want me to get in because they want me to be happy. I had lunch with Brittney yesterday, and a guy came up to us from the Intervarsity Club (a religious group on campus) and told us that they were praying for people, and asked if we had something we were praying for. I was embarrassed to ask him to pray that I would get into Smith, people are frequently indignant when they hear about the little things I pray about. I don't see the problem though, it's not like God is going to be so busy getting me into a good school that He lets an airplane crash or something. It's just a part of my relationship with God, where I figure there isn't any harm in asking, because the worst thing that can happen is that it won't work out. I would like a confirmation that they got my application though. It would help me relax a bit. Nicole said the address on my transcript looked incomplete, so I would like to know if I need to order another. Time moves so much slower when you're waiting, this week has been endless.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-2449904664414069456?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/2449904664414069456/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=2449904664414069456' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2449904664414069456'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2449904664414069456'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/waiting-is-hard.html' title='Waiting is Hard'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-5592918069868378387</id><published>2008-11-04T05:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-04T06:37:45.908-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My Spring Schedule</title><content type='html'>I woke up at 6:50 to register for classes, a process that should have gone smoothly, but instead caused me so much stress I couldn't go back to sleep as planned. It worked out, I reviewed for a test I have at 10:00, but I was very put out about it at the time. So here it is. I almost got shut out of every psychology class, in which case I would have cried, and then begged professors to let me overload. I'm not thrilled, but it'll do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday/Wednesday/Friday                 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Critical Reading/Honor 102                          &lt;br /&gt;11:20-12:20&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Western Humanities II&lt;br /&gt;12:35-1:5o&lt;br /&gt;(with Walt S*ffer)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tuesday&lt;/span&gt;                                &lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Behavior Analysis&lt;br /&gt; 9:55-11:10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geology 100&lt;br /&gt;11:20-12:35&lt;br /&gt;(Science Core)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                           Research Methods&lt;br /&gt;3:35-4:50&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Thursday&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt; Behavior Analysis&lt;br /&gt; 9:55-11:10&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geology 100&lt;br /&gt;                            11:20-12:35&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Geology Lab&lt;br /&gt;                                                                             12:45-2:45&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                                           Research Methods&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                                                           3:35-4:50&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This schedule pretty much mandates me becoming a Thursday night reveler. Four classes and then a mad dash to practice. Good grief.&lt;br /&gt;I am so full of cortisol already, and it's only 8:45. It's going to be a long day. My test is in my first class, and then I'll have to sit through Stats before I can go vote. I had consoling pop tarts after my registration drama, so I'm having grapenuts for lunch because my bread went moldy. It isn't a happy day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-5592918069868378387?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/5592918069868378387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=5592918069868378387' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/5592918069868378387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/5592918069868378387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/my-spring-schedule.html' title='My Spring Schedule'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-7326427081245292563</id><published>2008-11-01T09:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-01T09:46:49.982-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween</title><content type='html'>I have to agree with WCA when he says that Halloween is too much pressure. Movies make it seem like it's easy to have fun on Halloween, especially in college, but it's actually harder than you would think. Last year was pretty lame because it was on a Wednesday, so I didn't want to go out, despite my awesome hooker costume. Halloween weekend last year was lame too, my friends and I wandered along Court St. trying to find a party, and by the time we did all the good parties were pretty much over, and no longer worth the $5 you have to pay to get in.&lt;br /&gt;I was optimistic this year, but last night was pretty much more of the same. I loved my Kaylee costume (sadly, no one took a picture), but the night itself wasn't very fun. I had opted to hang out with my non-rugby friends, so I skipped the girls' rugby party, and hung out in Nicole and Dana's room. I wasn't drinking really, so that was the first clue I might not have a great night, as it's less fun than you would think to hang out with drunk people when you are sober. (Dana had a friend who she said was going to the IB to make fun of the drunk people, but I think that's incredibly stupid. She isn't 21, so she would be &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;paying &lt;/span&gt;to stand in a hot, dirty, packed-to-the-gills bar where she wouldn't be dancing. I don't get the appeal at all, but to each his own.) We tried to play various games, but they never got started, and around ten we decided to try and find a party. You would think it would be easy, but apparently the cops had warned the frats not to have opens, so it was slim pickings. We wandered around aimlessly (it felt very familiar) until I admitted that I was pretty much killing time at this point, and I just wanted to go to the IB and meet up with my ruggers. Dana had never been to the IB before, so she wanted to come, and we decided to go back to their room until 12, and then go to the bar.&lt;br /&gt;We went to Monroe, and chilled for about an hour, but the evening was clearly winding down. We sat around eating hint of lime tostitos and sharing a beer that Chelsea's boyfriend had left in the fridge until it was time to go. Dana fell asleep, so it was just Clarence and me, and when we got to the IB Clarence said he'd keep me company in line, but then he was going home. I found Pete B*nnister in line, and we were all chatting, which was nice, but he burned a hole in my shirtsleeve with his cigarette ash, which was irritating. None of my friends were at the bar yet, and it was the most crowded that I had ever seen it. I wandered around looking for people that I know, and waited in line for the bathroom just so I would have an unawkward place to stand. While I was waiting, who should appear but Goose, holding hands with a girl that wasn't beautiful, but was pretty the way Paul's high school girlfriend was pretty. Small, thin, good hair, good make up, like a beagle is what a dog looks like, they are what pretty girls look like. He said hi, and sort of touched my shoulder, and i felt like I had been punched in the solar plexus. Just in case I wasn't uncomfortable enough already, being alone in the most crowded bar in the world, I now had to deal with the possibility that I would see Goose kissing this Barbie. That didn't stop me from looking for him all night, I always look for him at the IB, but I only see him when I'm in a jumpsuit with smudgy make up on my face to make me look like I've been working in the engine room on a spaceship. I didn't see him again, but just that brief encounter was enough to bug me for a good long time.&lt;br /&gt;My friends eventually showed up, and we danced and did the normal bar stuff. It was too late though, my night was past saving. It was too hot, and I wasn't in the mood. No one ever dances with me at the IB anymore. My friends do clearly, but no strange boys. I feel weird saying I miss strangers latching onto my dragonfly-style, but it makes me feel sort of rejected. One guy did come up to me actually, he was a friend of the Marine's, and &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;unbelievably &lt;/span&gt;drunk. He tried to kiss me too, which was not ok. So I'll occasionally get hit on by creepers, but that's all. It's discouraging, especially when past boys are around to see how much of a hit I'm not.&lt;br /&gt;The lights came on at 2:00, and my friend Oaks realized she had lost her blood sugar machine, card, license and phone. So we waited around the bar during the clean up, looking through the bits of costume debris on the floor. It didn't turn up though, and Colin said that it wasn't in the building if they hadn't found it. I felt really bad for Oaks, that's a really unfortunate end to a night, especially a holiday, when there's more pressure to have a good time.&lt;br /&gt;Halloween is hard. It's probably going to be a letdown as long as I have any kind of expectations. Maybe I'll like it when I have kids that I can take trick or treating, but for now I'll just look at it as a pit stop on the way to Thanksgiving, the lowest pressure holiday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-7326427081245292563?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/7326427081245292563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=7326427081245292563' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7326427081245292563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7326427081245292563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/11/halloween.html' title='Halloween'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1582711575961150210</id><published>2008-10-30T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-30T13:34:31.245-07:00</updated><title type='text'>And the Hits Keep Coming</title><content type='html'>I'm having such a great week. It started out strong, and it just never faltered. A prime example of this awesomeness: there were COWS on the quad today. There was also free milk, but I don't really drink milk, so I just patted and milked the cows. I don't remember ever milking a cow before today, so it was super thrilling. I think I took to it pretty naturally, it's something I'd be down for doing several times a day, every day. Cows probably aren't allowed in my apartment complex, but maybe someday I'll have one. It's been a longtime dream of mine.&lt;br /&gt;After petting the cows I went to lunch with my friends at the Big Tree Inn. I don't have a lot of money on my meal plan, and I'll be having peanut butter sandwiches for dinner for awhile, but it was worth it. It was nice to get off campus for a bit, and talk to my friends. Chelsea, Dana, Nicole, Grace, Mari, Clarence and I all have the 12:30-2:10 free every Thursday, so we always try to meet for lunch to catch up with each other. It wasn't the whole crowd today, just Grace, Dana, Nicole and me, but it was nice. Maybe nicer than having everyone, because the conversation was more focused and we didn't break up into separate conversations. I like the whole family meal thing, but maybe not in a restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;I'm mailing my application tomorrow. It's a little scary, but not really. The worst is over, even if I get rejected, it probably won't be as bad as having to tell my professors I want to transfer. Walt is taking it very seriously, we're meeting after class to talk about what he should say in the midterm report. It isn't a recommendation, it's a space for a grade, his signature and email address, and a box for optional comments, but he doesn't want to just jot something down. I can't decide if I appreciate this or not. It's a very Walt way to be, he's always willing to take time for students, but I don't necessarily want to take two hours on a Friday to talk about a test when I'm not getting points back, or a tiny box on a form. It's just another lesson I guess, I know his time is valuable, but he's willing to share it and do this for me, so I should appreciate it and try to do the same.&lt;br /&gt;Tonight is a study night. I have an Adolescent Development test tomorrow, so I'm just going to stay in and work. It's good though, I'm going to go to the gym, and work, and watch Thursday tv, I'm looking forward to it.&lt;br /&gt;Tomorrow is Halloween, and I'm going to dress up like Kaylee and share the cookies that Aunt Grace sent me. Life is good.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1582711575961150210?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1582711575961150210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1582711575961150210' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1582711575961150210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1582711575961150210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/10/and-hits-keep-coming.html' title='And the Hits Keep Coming'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1997951869167125205</id><published>2008-10-28T14:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-28T15:18:24.228-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Times</title><content type='html'>I'm having such a good week. I know it's only Tuesday, but things are going so well. I got a big box of make ups in the mail today, just in time for my friend Paige's birthday party tonight. It should be fun, especially since now I have purple eye shimmer and all these new lip glosses and toners. I'm going to experiment, and have a good time getting ready. I sometimes like to do things that I would have enjoyed when I was in middle school, it makes me feel like I've grown up a lot, even though that doesn't make very much sense. I painted my finger and toenails blue yesterday, and I think it looks pretty cool. It isn't a sophisticated look, but it's fun.&lt;br /&gt;I had a very nice conversation with my friend Elizabeth today. We don't typically plan time to hang out, but we run into each other all the time in the library or the bathroom and get to talking, and then two hours have gone by. We talked a lot about our apartment for next year, even though we won't be living there at the same time. We're both very excited, but also frustrated that we have to wait so long to move in. Elizabeth also commented on how it's disappointing that we won't be housemates, so she won't get to eat my cooking experiments. We decided that the solution is to live together senior year, which is good, because by then I'll have experience, and the things I make will have a better chance of being delicious.&lt;br /&gt;I finally talked to my noisy neighbors last night. It was 11:30, and I was trying to study, and the girl next door's irritating boyfriend &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tarzan &lt;/span&gt;yelled, and it was just the last straw. I was very nervous about confronting them, but I figured an RA wouldn't intervene until I asked them to stop myself, so I did it. They were quiet for the rest of the night too, so my fingers are crossed that the problem is solved. I love it when the obvious solution is the right one.&lt;br /&gt;I have my phone interview tonight. I'm nervous, but I feel like it'll be ok. Things are looking good, so I don't feel the same pressure, where my life will be ruined forever if I don't get into Smith. I have somewhere to live, I have at least...three good friends, I'm ok. I still want to go, but it's less pressing. It would be for the better education, not to escape Geneseo.&lt;br /&gt;The girls rugby team is having a date party in mid-November, and I've decided to not go. It's pretty far in the future, but I'm pleased with myself for making this decision, so I'm telling lots of people. Date parties always spell trouble. I may go totally over the top and volunteer at Teresa House that night instead.&lt;br /&gt;I've decided to make a quilt. I decided around the time my friends and I decided to live off-campus, it seems very homey. I don't have a lot of experience sewing, but I got a big kick out of sewing the patches onto my coveralls and rugby shorts. I'm thinking about all the various patterns described in &lt;a style="font-style: italic;" href="http://www.amazon.com/Alias-Grace-Novel-Margaret-Atwood/dp/0385490445"&gt;Alias Grace&lt;/a&gt;, but I think I want to at least try &lt;a href="http://www.quilterscache.com/C/CrazyAmishQuiltBlock.html"&gt;this &lt;/a&gt;pattern that I found when I Googled "Amish Quilt Patterns". I think it's really cool. I don't know when I'm going to start making this quilt, but I thought it might happen when I'm home for Thanksgiving and can get to a fabric store. I also want to try making bread, especially challah. I haven't had challah in ages, and I've been craving it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1997951869167125205?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1997951869167125205/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1997951869167125205' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1997951869167125205'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1997951869167125205'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/10/good-times.html' title='Good Times'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1839795011976412922</id><published>2008-10-27T07:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T07:57:55.246-07:00</updated><title type='text'>High Times</title><content type='html'>I had a very nice, if very sleepy weekend. Thursday I went to see the Neil Simon play "Rumors" put on by the campus theater group VegSoup. I went with my friend Brittney, and we had a really nice time. It's a funny play, and it was well acted, with an especially impressive performance by a freshman that was briefly on the men's rugby team before their all-around toolish-ness drove him away. Friday was quiet but good. I went to a Halloween store with Dana and Clarence, and we tried on costumes and fought with toy swords, and generally acted like annoying college students. I thought about going to see "Rumors" again, but didn't as I decided it might not be as good the second time, and I was dead on my feet after being locked out Thursday night and spending the night on the study lounge couch. (I had forgotten my keys, and it would be impossible to wake Danielle without waking the entire campus. The girl is a quality sleeper, an excellent quality in a college roommate.) Instead, I went back to my room and watched "Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story" which was actually pretty funny. Not laugh out loud funny for the most part, but decent. Saturday we had our final rugby scrimmage against Brockport. I wasn't at all in the mood to play rugby in the freezing rain, but our driver refused to get "lost" unless everyone in the car agreed, and one girl did want to go. It was good though, because once we got there it was very fun. We switched players, giving them our even numbers and taking theirs, and a good time was had by...most. Brockport girls are very fragile, and three were taken away in ambulences. But they were in good spirits. Saturday night I went to Brittney's suite and watched "Amadeus" with her and our friend Oaks. We facebook stalked rugby boys, and gossiped good-naturedly, and had a nice time. As Oaks said "It's nice hanging out with you guys when we aren't binge drinking." I feel like we're going to do more of that now. People seem to be getting bored with partying all the time, but we still want to hang out. I worked on my costume yesterday, sewing patches onto my coveralls, and because I had extra, my rugby shorts. It was very pleasant, sewing makes me feel wholesome and domestic. I kept pricking my fingers, and I eventually got bored, but my costume is bomb awesome. Last night I went over to Gaby's and we came up with nicknames for all the rookies and planned their initiation. It sounds like it's going to be a blast, I'm super excited. I started volunteering at Holcomb again today. It was one of those nights where you keep looking at your watch and thinking about how tired you're going to be the next day, but so far I'm ok. Volunteering was good, but the kids this year seem sort of violent. They kept throwing matchbox cars and pulling my hair with alligator puppets. I need to figure out a new laundry schedule now, but I think it'll be good for me to volunteer more. Working out in the morning is good, but I can work out at night, and I can't play with tiny children at night, so this makes sense. I'm actually going to go to yoga class tonight. I think I'll call some rugby girls and see if they'd like to come too, we've made some vague gym buddy plans, and I feel like I've made so much progress with getting closer to people, I don't want to lose touch after the season is over.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1839795011976412922?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1839795011976412922/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1839795011976412922' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1839795011976412922'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1839795011976412922'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/10/high-times.html' title='High Times'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-6833944846519941343</id><published>2008-10-23T10:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-23T10:34:32.054-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Free Dumplings Day</title><content type='html'>They even had apple dumplings! (But no turnip sauce) Delicious.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-6833944846519941343?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/6833944846519941343/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=6833944846519941343' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6833944846519941343'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6833944846519941343'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/10/free-dumplings-day.html' title='Free Dumplings Day'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3655008500878584187</id><published>2008-10-19T18:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T19:21:32.095-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On College</title><content type='html'>People are always saying that these are the best years of my life, but as far as I can tell college is just waiting for adult life to start. I can't think of a single college student that I know that is living in the present, everyone spends all of their time thinking about the future. We're only here in the first place because it will probably give us a better future than not going to college, but it isn't hard to see why people that opt to not go to college after high school develop a greater sense of identity at a younger age. I'm three months into my second year, and I feel like college is already over. Not in the good, getting-on-with-my-life way, but in a stuck way. It seems pointless to transfer at this point. I'm still applying, but I just want college to be over. A lot of my friends are planning on graduating early. I don't know if I'd like to do that, but it's a symptom of this problem where no one lives in the now. Everyone is so focused on where they're going to study abroad next spring, and their apartment next fall. It's already too late to get an apartment for next year, and it isn't even November. I don't want to make my schedule for next semester yet, I don't want to think about housing, I'm trying to get through my current classes and cohabit with my current roommate. I don't want to think about the future.&lt;br /&gt;I had a very pleasant visit with Riva this weekend. People have a way of looking at their friends sometimes, where you can see them marveling at how much they love them, that is like sunshine to a plant. Most of our mutual friends were busy, so I had Riva to myself a lot of the time. It was like going tanning, I hope that it lasts, so even when I go through weeks where I don't have very many positive interactions with people I won't get all Seasonal Affective Disorder-y. I was talking to Brittney about my friends on Friday, and she sympathized with how hard it is to make new good friends, and how it's easy to stick with less-good friends than go it alone.  It's a sort of tease, hanging out with Clarence and Chelsea, however briefly, while Riva was here. It reminded me how nice things were last year, when I had best friends, but also what I lost when they got tired of me, or developed other priorities, or whatever it was that came between us and left me alone. But that's beside the point. I feel like Riva had a fun visit, we watched "Firefly", went for walks, and even went to the IB. It turns out that drinking with Riva is fun, if not as fun as not-drinking with her. I'm glad we tried it, but I don't think it's going to enter into the rotation of stuff we do together.&lt;br /&gt;I feel ready for this week. Things are sort of looking up, even if the only difference is that now I'm determined to be happier. I'm actually making an effort to make good decisions and be positive. I'm not mad at people anymore, I'm actually committed to giving up hook-ups for a relationship, even if that means I'll be on my own for a long time. I'm keeping small, realistic goals that are things in my control. I can't help but feel like I'm treading water, and these are short-term solutions, but maybe it's just the optimist in me, believing that something good will come along, and things will get better.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3655008500878584187?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3655008500878584187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3655008500878584187' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3655008500878584187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3655008500878584187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/10/on-college.html' title='On College'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-5376288172845105957</id><published>2008-10-19T12:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-19T12:28:01.369-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm Reviewing the Situation</title><content type='html'>Driving back from apple picking with the Outing Club, it occurred to me that I might be on the wrong path, life-wise. I wondered if I should stick with psychology, or maybe change my major. I was thinking that I might like to go into early education instead, and be a preschool or kindergarten teacher. I like kids, I like arts and crafts, and pushing people on swings, maybe I should  double major. I know I love psychology, but I'm not sure if I have a future in the field. Input is welcome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-5376288172845105957?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/5376288172845105957/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=5376288172845105957' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/5376288172845105957'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/5376288172845105957'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/10/im-reviewing-situation.html' title='I&apos;m Reviewing the Situation'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1322097467577321047</id><published>2008-10-14T15:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T15:34:40.269-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Fall Break</title><content type='html'>I came back to Geneseo just in time for the actual Fall Break part of Fall Break. I personally think it's the best of both worlds, I got to go home, and I had crazy, shut-in, study time. It turns out that I only have one paper due this week and not the two that I thought I had, so that's a huge relief. D. didn't get back until this afternoon, so I had the run of the place last night. I didn't do anything too crazy, I ate grapenuts and raspberries, studied stats, and read &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Les Miserables&lt;/span&gt;, and had a quiet, peaceful evening. Not unlike the quiet peaceful evening that I'm having right now, as D. sits at her desk.&lt;br /&gt;Last night was nice, but today I wanted to do something, or talk to someone, and that just wasn't in the cards. Students are slowly trickling back to campus, but everyone has homework, myself included. I worked on my Humanities paper for most of the day, and then rewarded myself with a walk to the cemetery. It was a pretty fall day, but surprisingly humid, and it smelled very strongly of cow. I wanted to wear my fake leather jacket, but it was too warm. I crunched through the leaves though, which was very satisfying, and I feel like I at least got some fresh air and exercise, which I desperately needed after two days in the car.&lt;br /&gt;No one was around for dinner, so I ate with my stats book that I had taken on my walk so I could learn by osmosis. I had a nice salad, which was just the thing, as I had grapenuts for breakfast, and a peanut butter sandwich for lunch, so I was due for something green. I'll get some more fruit tomorrow from the dining hall, I need to save my bananas for breakfast, but I like having apples around the room for munching.&lt;br /&gt;Riva is coming this weekend and I am deeply excited. Clarence pointed out that I spent her whole visit last time clinging to her, and I plan on going koala-style this time too. I haven't seen her in ages, I'm completely unapologetic about being happy to see her. I wish there was more to do in Geneseo, but we're going to go apple picking with the outing club, so that's something. There's a rugby party Saturday night, and I'd really like to take her, but I'm at Teresa House until 11, and I doubt anyone else will want to go. It would be fun to bring my Oberlin rugger friend to a Geneseo rugby party though, I bet we would sing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1322097467577321047?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1322097467577321047/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1322097467577321047' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1322097467577321047'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1322097467577321047'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/10/fall-break.html' title='Fall Break'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-6731142236122234943</id><published>2008-10-08T11:27:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-08T11:53:50.266-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Halloween</title><content type='html'>I really want to be Kaylee from "Firefly" for Halloween. My friend DS expressed interest in a "Firefly" group costume, and I bet EH would be down too. Where do you get coveralls?&lt;br /&gt;I always say that I don't get too into Halloween, but I do when I like my costume idea. I liked my hooker costume last year, and my badger/skunk costume a few years ago was good. Elphaba was tricky, the paint was really itchy, but it was a big hit, so that was satisfying. Really though, I feel like the peak of my Halloween life was that ninja costume I had in like third grade. I'll never top that. I hope there are pictures, it was a great costume.&lt;br /&gt;I don't have Halloween plans, but I'm sure something will turn up. There will probably be a rugby thing, but I'd like to go out with my crew members if possible. It would be silly to have a group costume and then not hang out.&lt;br /&gt;I went to the Study Abroad fair today, and it turns out the New Zealand program is only in the Spring. That's all well and good for rugby, but it's going to suck having the year and a half of winter. It'll be like Narnia, which I guess is fitting, as I think the Narnia movies are filmed in New Zealand. At least I'll get a lot of snowboarding in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-6731142236122234943?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/6731142236122234943/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=6731142236122234943' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6731142236122234943'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6731142236122234943'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/10/halloween.html' title='Halloween'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-9052909367251445787</id><published>2008-10-06T11:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-06T12:41:03.828-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Love Mondays</title><content type='html'>My weeks all follow the same pattern more or less, and I love Mondays the best. It's a little weird, and I'm not trying to be a rebel by loving Mondays, I just like the feeling of potential. I wake up early and do my laundry (When I was first learning French I remembered that Monday is laundry day, so lundi made sense, and so I get a great deal of satisfaction from that.). I'm a little worried about starting a Monday laundry trend, but as long as I get my wash in by 8:45 I'm almost guaranteed dry clothes by my 11:30 class. I'm a fan of laundry, I like folding the clothes when they're warm, and they make my room smell nice. I went to the gym and erged while my clothes were in the dryer, just so I was using my time as productively as possible. I like erging, but I like it less now that I'm trying to bring my time down. At least I always feel virtuous afterwards, and I like my blisters almost as much as my rugby bruises. I couldn't get soy milk for love or money after the gym , so I used real milk in my cereal and took lactaid. I really love real milk. There's no comparing the two, milk is just better. D. has class at 10:30, so I had the room to myself after I got back from the gym, so I played This American Life while I folded my clothes and ate breakfast. I have the same schedule Monday, Wednesday and Friday, but I never feel the same motivation on Wednesday or Friday. I'm going to try to go to the gym in the morning though, it's almost empty, and rugby season is winding down, so I'm going to need to think about off-season training. I'm going to try to hold onto my Monday positivity. It's a short week, and I have a big Postsecret Fall Break treat to look forward to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-9052909367251445787?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/9052909367251445787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=9052909367251445787' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/9052909367251445787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/9052909367251445787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/10/i-love-mondays.html' title='I Love Mondays'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-8132151151492254090</id><published>2008-10-05T17:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-10-05T17:47:08.173-07:00</updated><title type='text'>How Did This Happen?</title><content type='html'>I'm really hoping it isn't an issue because I won't be here, but I don't have any housing prospects for next year. I don't need to live off campus, even though I really want to, but I don't even have a roommate. I don't know how it happened, but I sort of hate most of my friends. Not all the time, CWB brought me some chestnuts today, totally out of the blue, and I didn't hate that, but I don't feel close to anyone. I loved my rugby friends, but I don't think I'd like to live with them, and they're already set up with housing. I can't afford to live by myself, and it's such a risk living with strangers. I like my current roommate, but we aren't friends per se, we're just chummy roommates.&lt;br /&gt;Fall Break can't come soon enough. I never see my friends, so it's not like we need space, but I need to get away. I feel like all the good in me has dried up. Almost everything my friends say pisses me off, and I feel like they feel equally hostile towards me. I had dinner with CL the other night, and he was so unfriendly. He shot down every topic of conversation I tried to bring up, I felt like the &lt;a href="http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0338013/quotes"&gt;Dining Dead&lt;/a&gt;, and it was awful. We used to be friends. I missed him like crazy over the summer, and now we have meals where I want to throw my drink in his face and storm away and never speak to him again. The whole thing was just so depressing. It's awful when you can see that someone has stopped loving you. I tried so hard to keep loving my friends, even when they stopped making an effort, because I thought they'd eventually miss me and want to be close again. I called, over the summer I wrote, I asked about their lives, I went to their swim test for crew for chrissake! I tried really hard, and no one cared, and now I'm angry and friendless. As opposed to in denial and friendless. So now I'm going to work on my essays, cuz I can't be here for another two and a half years. I just can't do it, I hate the way I am here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-8132151151492254090?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/8132151151492254090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=8132151151492254090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8132151151492254090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8132151151492254090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/10/how-did-this-happen.html' title='How Did This Happen?'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-4818239433064407035</id><published>2008-09-30T18:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-30T18:43:49.458-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Protest</title><content type='html'>There was an anti-homosexual protest today on the College Green. It was small, just some guy and his adult daughter, but it caused quite a stir. The Pride Alliance was out there in full force, it was a huge mob of very angry rainbow-bedecked people by the time I got there. It was peaceful, even though the students were shouting and getting in their faces, Pride kept things under control. The man was apparently really belligerent, but his daughter was trying to explain her position reasonably and people were very disrespectful and aggressive with her. I was impressed by how calm they were, I would be pretty freaked out if I was facing that kind of angry mass of college students. I was indignant when I first heard about it, but before I got to the Green my favorite professor made the point that they were doing what they thought was right, and they really think that gay people are going to go to Hell if they don't change. That's wrong and ignorant, but I feel like it's well-intentioned if they are coming from a loving place and not just hating gay people. If you are going to be honest, the students were being disrespectful too, by swearing at these people and disregarding their beliefs. The whole thing was just frustrating, and people are impatient with me for not being more angry, but it isn't that black and white. The man was apparently saying that Catholics aren't Christians, but I feel like the thing to do in these situations is to ignore them, and not give them the satisfaction of causing a stir, and forgive them, because they don't know any better. Two rugby girls reacted by making out in front of this guy, and I feel like that's sort of disrespectful, but a better way to protest, acts of love, and not anger. It's like my roommate's friend wanted to throw a Bible at the man, it made me think of that &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=umLUKBlpyoY&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;scene&lt;/a&gt; from "Saved!", that isn't what it's for.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-4818239433064407035?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/4818239433064407035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=4818239433064407035' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4818239433064407035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4818239433064407035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/09/protest.html' title='Protest'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-8160784525682670725</id><published>2008-09-29T19:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-29T20:11:21.755-07:00</updated><title type='text'>More Angst</title><content type='html'>This is one of those posts that you can feel free to skim or skip, but I want to put these things out there because they're rolling around in the rock-tumbler that is my head, and I want to talk about it, but no one wants to listen because it's the same old stuff.&lt;br /&gt;I had a really nice day today. I was in a great mood, and I felt liked and good, practice went well, but my brain can't allow me to relax, so it decided to spring the whole "what was wrong with me that the one person I decided to open myself up to last year rejected me without any explanation?" problem on me. Again. Because I haven't ruminated about it enough yet. I don't even care about him anymore at this point (Mostly because I never see him around campus. I suspect that if I did I would be more forgiving in the face of his cheerful handsomeness.), but I still feel inadequate and weird. I don't want to like anyone new, and so all of my interactions with guys have been kind of guarded since then. Even now, the closest I'm coming to a crush is on the King of the Unattainables, because I feel safe liking someone that is so weird and awkward that I know I will never need to open up to.  I don't understand what I did wrong, and I can't ask him because it would be weird and if he answered truthfully my feelings would be tremendously hurt and I would feel embarrassed and awful and brood about it for another six months, and if he lied or skirted the question I would have shown my hand and revealed how much it hurt me without even getting closure. There's no solution except to get over it, but I don't know how. I don't know how to stop it from happening again, and I haven't met anyone worth the trouble, so it shouldn't even be an issue, but it will be until I move onto someone new and don't get my hand spanked for being excited and falling in love. It's possible that I just liked the wrong person and it wasn't anything I did. I doubt the solution is changing my behavior, cuz someone will eventually love me for all of my...whatever I did that turned him off. Plus I'm now carrying around that baggage, so I'm even less lovable than I was then. And I still compare other potential boys to him which is just self-defeating and pointless because no one can live up to the standard of The One That Got Away which is what I've made this into. He isn't that amazing! I just can't warp my mind around someone seeing me, the way I am, sort of at my best, cuz I liked him so much, and not...loving me back. I don't expect the whole world to love me, but I'm still surprised when people I'm prepared to adore don't like me. That's the sort of thing that makes my friends impatient with me, and maybe it's terrible, but I can't help it. It's a drawback from growing up in a loving household.&lt;br /&gt;On a different note, has everyone heard the &lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eP9csWhlHWM"&gt;Ben Folds and Regina Spektor song&lt;/a&gt;? It's very awesome.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-8160784525682670725?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/8160784525682670725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=8160784525682670725' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8160784525682670725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8160784525682670725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/09/more-angst.html' title='More Angst'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1635592661853436779</id><published>2008-09-24T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-24T13:28:32.952-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Killing Time (Not Studying)</title><content type='html'>&lt;b&gt;1. How does the world see you?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Death Cab For Cutie "Crooked Teeth"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;font-family:Verdana;font-size:180%;"  &gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;You're so cute when you're slurring your speech,&lt;br /&gt;But they're closing the bar and they want us to leave.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hmm...maybe not the image I want to project, even if it says I'm cute.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;2.Will I have a happy life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Carbon Leaf "Reunion Monticello"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;We danced and drank the sun! It over flowed and washed the past away. We roamed! Echo! Laughter! Spirits danced a jig around their graves... &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; ...Then came the rain. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kind of like this actually. Dancing and drinking the sun sounds like a nice life to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;3. What do my friends really think of me?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;The White Stripes "A Martyr for My Love for You"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could stay a while&lt;/span&gt;/&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But sooner or later I'll break your smile&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And I can tell a joke&lt;/span&gt;/&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But one of these days I'm bound to choke&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And we could share a kiss&lt;/span&gt;/&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But I feel like I can't go through with this&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; And I bet we could build a home&lt;/span&gt;/&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But I know the right thing for me to do&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Is to leave you alone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends and I have mutually destructive relationships and we should avoid each other? Even The White Stripes are against my friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;4. Do people secretly lust after me?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Josh Groban "Jesu Joy of Man's Desiring"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;Drawn by Thee, our souls aspiring &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Soar to uncreated light &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So...yes. In a kind of worshipful way. Eh, I'll take what I can get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;5. How can I make myself happy?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Freedy Johnston "Changed Your Mind"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Changed your mind/You decided maybe that&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;he wasn't your type&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting over people that I'm not suited to? Who could &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;possibly &lt;/span&gt;think that would make me happy? Ok fine, it's spot on. Score one for iTunes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;6. What should I do with my life?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Spirit of the West "Be Right"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;There's still victories to be won/ if we all work as one&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Work on the side of good and "be right". Kind of vague, but on the right path I guess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;7. Will I ever have children?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dixie Chicks "Landslide"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But time makes you bolder/Children get older&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm getting older too&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm taking this as a yes. So yay, babies for Caroline!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;8. What is some good advice for me?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Beatles "I Should've Known Better"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Can't you see, can't you see?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; That when I tell you that I love you, oh,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; You're gonna say you love me too, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, oh,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Be open to love? People that love me are lovable, or I'm lovable to people that I love? Either way, it's good advice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. How will I be remembered?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Freedy Johnston "Moving on a Holiday"&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Just another place left clean&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Won't be dreaming here anymore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Empty shelves and lonely keys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Sounds so hollow when I shut the door&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one will remember me. They will shut the door on their memories of me. Bummer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;10. What is my signature dancing song?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Herman's Hermits "Listen People"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Take my advice and you'll always find&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You'll be happy all of the time&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Take my advice and you will see&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You'll be happy as you can be&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's kind of slow, I don't know how fun it is to dance to. There are some fast bits though, and I guess I could just sort of...sway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;11. What do I think my current theme song is?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Kinna Sohna "Gunjan "&lt;br /&gt;I can't even find lyrics to this, it's from the "Bend it Like Beckham" soundtrack and I think in Bengali.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;12. What does everyone else think my current theme song is?&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;The Beatles "Helter Skelter"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I will you won't you want me to make you  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I'm coming down fast but don't let me break you  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Tell me tell me tell me the answer  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;You may be a lover but you ain't no dancer  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friends think I'm crazy and going to kill people? Maybe that's why we should avoid each other.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;13. What song will play at my funeral?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;The Beatles "I'll Follow the Sun"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;One day you'll look to see I've gone  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;For tomorrow may rain,  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so I'll follow the sun  &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's pretty appropriate actually. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;14 What type of men do I like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;The Backstreet Boys "No One Else Comes Close"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;But girl you know that I would never&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Ever let anothers touch, come between&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The two of us&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;cause no one else will ever take your place&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sappy romantic, devoted men? Nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;15. What is my day going to be like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;Pocahontas "Just Around the River Bend"&lt;b&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I look once more&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Just around the riverbend&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Beyond the shore&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Somewhere past the sea&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt; Don't know what for ...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cool. A day filled with potential.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1635592661853436779?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1635592661853436779/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1635592661853436779' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1635592661853436779'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1635592661853436779'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/09/killing-time-not-studying.html' title='Killing Time (Not Studying)'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1461661125686172016</id><published>2008-09-23T18:45:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T19:10:31.888-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Did You Get Lost in Amsterdam?</title><content type='html'>I really miss Amsterdam this week. It already seems unreal, like I saw a movie about it, but I never actually went. I should have taken more pictures. I took a lot in Paris, but I didn't develop the same kind of relationship with Paris. I didn't live there, I just visited.&lt;br /&gt;I've been listening to the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Guster&lt;/span&gt; song "&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tO-S5uBb9S8"&gt;Amsterdam&lt;/a&gt;" a lot lately. That, and the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Tegan&lt;/span&gt; and Sara song "&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vjg_5taQASk"&gt;Where Does the Good Go?&lt;/a&gt;". What can I say, I love repetition.  My neighbors haven't complained yet, and Danielle doesn't seem to mind, so I'm going to keep it up. That's the only &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;drawback&lt;/span&gt; to live performances, especially impromptu ones, you can never hear it again most of the time. Sometimes there are &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;youtube&lt;/span&gt; videos or concert &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;dvds&lt;/span&gt;, but most of the time it's a one shot deal. I once heard these two camp counselors at &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Weona&lt;/span&gt; play their guitar and mandolin, and no version of "Colleen Malone" will ever compare. They were twins, and I entertained minor crushed on them both for the rest of camp after their performance. I still think about them, even though I barely knew them, simply because they played that song. It was that good. I love stuff like that though, there are hundreds of little live shows that I want to see again, a juggler in Maryland, a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;break dance&lt;/span&gt; show in Paris, a song about turning the radio on and getting in touch with God that was popular at the open mic bluegrass night in Tennessee. It's great that I got to experience these things at all, it seems ungrateful to want more, but...well there is not but I guess. I'm probably going to think about those twins every now and again for the rest of my life though.&lt;br /&gt;I wonder if love songs are just made up, or people really feel that way about real people. That they're in a relationship with, not just that they're creepily obsessed with. I love reading the wedding announcements in the Sunday Times, because I like to be reassured that people do fall in love, and things occasionally work out. It seems unlikely that I'll find someone to love in college, but it would be easier to wait if I had some reassurance that it would happen eventually.&lt;br /&gt;I had two tests in the past two days, so I'm giving myself the night off to read &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Les Miserables&lt;/span&gt;. I don't know what I was thinking starting a novel the size of a cinder block right as school starts getting all time consuming, but now I'm engrossed and can't stop.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1461661125686172016?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1461661125686172016/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1461661125686172016' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1461661125686172016'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1461661125686172016'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/09/did-you-get-lost-in-amsterdam.html' title='Did You Get Lost in Amsterdam?'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1309302945085170212</id><published>2008-09-20T14:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T14:42:40.171-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Caroline Goes Looking For Adventure</title><content type='html'>There was some drama in the hall last night, with one roommate being selfish and displacing the other, so we had a special guest crashing on our floor. I like sleepovers, so it was all good, but I woke up feeling out of sorts with the other roommate. I was hoping people would want to do something today, but everyone was homework-bound after brunch, so I found myself cranky and alone. I worked on my Escape Plan for a bit, but then I decided that was a waste of a lovely day, and I should go parading while I still can. The Union rents bicycles, and I had been meaning to get one and ride around for ages. Today seemed like the perfect day, so that's what I did. I had a vague notion of riding to Conesus Lake, but I got lost. I always think it would be nice to ride a bike around the Geneseo area, it's pretty, and I like bike riding. The hills though, are a force to be reckoned with. It's a warm day, and I hadn't ridden on hills like that in God only knows how long. I didn't have water, and my excitement was waning when I realized that I had no idea where I was. I turned around then, and was going to give up. Sometimes you can't go looking for adventure, you have to let it find you. It isn't something that can be forced. I got back to Main Street, but I didn't want to return the bike yet, so I decided to bike to Letchworth State Park. My expectations were low, I mostly hoped that the bike wouldn't break and send me flying. (Union bikes are pretty low quality, and this one felt especially rickity. It also didn't have a bell, but it &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;did &lt;/span&gt;have the most uncomfortable saddle I've ever sat on.) I was close-ish to Letchworth State Park, taking in the view, when I saw...A Historical Reenactment! I of course pulled over and checked it out. It was small, maybe eight tents, but there were people in period dress, cooking venison they had shot with their muzzle loaders over campfires, so I was happy. They weren't friendly per se, one man actually yelled at me a little for walking around with my head held up, smiling, while the government is robbing me blind, but other people were nicer. I got to see a gun firing and cannon shooting demonstration, and I was invited to a thing in June. I love reenactments. Lots of these reenactors also go to Fort Niagara, and apparently next year is the 250th anniversary, and is going to be huge.&lt;br /&gt;I stayed so long I was alomst late getting the bike back, but I ended up having a really nice adventure. I want to go back again tomorrow, the Outing Club is going rock climbing and it's $30, which is too rich for my blood. I don't think my friends would be interested, but I'll invite them anyway, just in case.&lt;br /&gt;It's only the late afternoon/early evening, but I'm feeling good about today. I'm glad I got to cycle around. I can't help but hope though, that soon I'll be Elsewhere, and able to swim in the river or go out on the pond in a boat on days when my friends are wasting their youth. Heck, while I'm dreaming, maybe Elsewhere friends are up for Saturday adventures. I can dream.&lt;br /&gt;Now for gelato.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1309302945085170212?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1309302945085170212/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1309302945085170212' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1309302945085170212'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1309302945085170212'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/09/caroline-goes-looking-for-adventure.html' title='Caroline Goes Looking For Adventure'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-895135371159496093</id><published>2008-09-18T19:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-18T20:29:19.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Ataraxia</title><content type='html'>Today in The Nature of Inquiry Ted brought up the idea of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ataraxia&lt;/span&gt;. He described it as sitting out in your backyard with a cup of coffee and a book, but you aren't really attending to the book because "...it is just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;such &lt;/span&gt;a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;beautiful &lt;/span&gt;morning". I like that. I'm not a coffee drinker, or a backyard &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;meditator&lt;/span&gt; for that matter, though maybe that has more to do with my backyard, which tends to be buggy, but I can appreciate his example. He had another that I liked more, which is closer to my &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;ataraxic&lt;/span&gt; scenario. You're sitting out in your deck chair, and it's evening, you've been on the beach all day, and your friends are inside making the spaghetti, but you don't need to go in just yet, so you can just sit. I love it. Just typing it is relaxing me, I'm all limp. I think if you swap the deck chair for a hammock it would be perfect. The picture of relaxed, perfect contentment. The sound of the ocean, dinner smells wafting through the air, maybe an abandoned novel on the ground that you were reading before your mind went quiet and you stopped to just be in the moment. A cat sleeping on your stomach. What could be better?&lt;br /&gt;I have an honors society thing at the college president's house tomorrow evening. I'm excited, Bill Edgar is going to be there. It sounds like fun too, like finding the small school within the bigger school. Professor Everett will be there too, and it's an excuse to wear a skirt. Not that I need one.&lt;br /&gt;It's been very nice fall weather at night. It's sometimes sort of summery during the day, but at night you can really believe that it's late-mid-September. I'd like to have a campfire this weekend. Do a sort of cookout, and then stay out late, looking at the stars. It would be nice to do this with a drinking element. I feel like apple cider and rum sounds very autumnal and delicious, but then we'd be trapped wherever we were, and I don't have a sleeping bag at school. If I had my sleeping bag and tent though, it would be perfect. At the very least it's a nice idea. I suggested it to my friend EH tonight, and she was all for it, but this was before the drunk driving problem occurred to me. Ah well. Someday I'll get my hammock by the sea, and someday I'll have a bonfire and cider and rum with my friends. For now, I can visualize. And go to bed before midnight, which feels like a victory in and of itself.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-895135371159496093?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/895135371159496093/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=895135371159496093' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/895135371159496093'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/895135371159496093'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/09/ataraxia.html' title='Ataraxia'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-6541662268127467926</id><published>2008-09-17T11:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T14:35:17.756-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Wednesday</title><content type='html'>I want to make &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/09/17/dining/171arex.html?_r=1&amp;amp;ref=dining&amp;amp;oref=slogin"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;. I might need to go to Wegmans and try to make it in the dorm kitchen. That might be a nice thing to do Friday night actually.&lt;br /&gt;Most of the time, when I really like someone, I want to be like them. I wish I looked like them, or was funny like them, there's something about them that seems so appealing that I wish I had too. This isn't the case with my friend DS, aka the girl with the purple shorts. Being with her is great, I always enjoy her company, but I don't want to be like her, because when I'm with her I feel so good about who &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; am. There's no tension, I feel appreciated and relaxed, and on occasion, witty. I probably wouldn't like being DS, she's very different from me, and I don't think I'd be as good at it, but she's a terrific friend to have. Sometimes it's nice to be around someone that allows you to let your guard down. I ran into her outside of the Union today. There was free ice cream, and I saw her sitting on a wall, eating her ice cream when I was in line. She came over and waited with me, and then we got lunch. I don't get to see her very often, so we caught up a little. She asked about my life, and even listened to a (brief) account of a dream I had. Eating with my friends can be complicated. CL eats off of my plate, so I can't save the things I like until the end of the meal. CWB makes a point of eating the least of everyone at the table, and NL rubs salt into her lips, which I find horrifying. DS is nice to eat with, honestly, the only drawback is that it takes so long because she gets me talking. She even stole a bowl for me to have for breakfast, right in front of a CAS worker, simply because I mentioned a need for a bowl.&lt;br /&gt;On the way out of lunch I decided I wanted some peanuts from the free ice cream stand, so DS walked me back to the Union. They were closing up, and trying to get rid of the last of it, so we both took bowls. She's the kind of friend that you can get two bowls of ice cream with without guilt, but with giggling, and making each other promise to eat all of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-6541662268127467926?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/6541662268127467926/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=6541662268127467926' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6541662268127467926'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6541662268127467926'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/09/i-want-to-make-this.html' title='Wednesday'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-2188011402580155509</id><published>2008-09-14T09:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-14T09:30:00.741-07:00</updated><title type='text'>On Friendship</title><content type='html'>Lately I've been wondering if I'm more attentive to friends in need then they are to me because I have less of a life, and so it isn't any bother, or because I'm more willing to put their problems ahead of my pleasures. If I had a friend in my situation, existential crisis-ing and whatnot, I would rally 'round, with advice, and reassurances of their personal value and help them through it. I took long walks all around Geneseo with a friend that was having difficulties last year, and was just There, in a way that my friends aren't for me. But maybe that's because they have jobs, and boyfriends and other things going on, and it can be very boring listening to someone in a crisis. I'm surprised I don't mind more, but it's almost reassuring, that these bonds are so fragile, and I can break free. I could just drift away from some friends, completely unnoticed. I do have nice friends too, it's very gratifying to know that rugby girls actually like me, even when I'm not on the team.&lt;br /&gt;On a happier note: Happy Birthday to LCA!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-2188011402580155509?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/2188011402580155509/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=2188011402580155509' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2188011402580155509'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2188011402580155509'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/09/on-friendship.html' title='On Friendship'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-2078493294135571762</id><published>2008-09-13T11:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-13T11:33:11.383-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Skirts</title><content type='html'>When I was in middle school I liked to wear clothes that didn't fit me. I would wear my dad's shirts, and giant jeans (not baggy, just long and the wrong size). I was having a lot of body issues. I started puberty kind of young, and I felt fat, and I thought big clothes would cover me up and make me look small by comparison. I eventually got over it, but it took a long time, and I hate the pictures of me from that time. That said, I love this one skirt that EGA bought in China, precisely because it is big. It makes me look short, and I have to wear a belt or it will fall right off. I wore this skirt all the time over the summer, and I'm actually wearing it right now. I'm not sure why I like it, and it seems unlikely that I wear it because of body issues, because you can see my legs. I like wearing other people's clothes. My friend DS loaned and then gave me a pair of purple shorts and I love wearing them. I think I like them because I think of them as being imbued with DS's essence. Wearing her shorts makes me feel like I can take a different perspective, be more like her, and that's nice because she's such a  glowy, cool person. It's a nice skirt too, it's broken in and comfortable, and I hate wearing shorts. Also because it's too big it looks pretty casual, so I can wear it around, even with my huge silver circle earrings, and not feel over-dressed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-2078493294135571762?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/2078493294135571762/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=2078493294135571762' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2078493294135571762'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2078493294135571762'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/09/skirts.html' title='Skirts'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1804949241187491427</id><published>2008-09-08T12:50:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-08T13:08:11.567-07:00</updated><title type='text'>My My My It's A Beautiful World</title><content type='html'>Today is one of those nice days, when you feel like you're going to be fine, and it isn't worth getting bothered about the small stuff. I forgot my wallet in my room, and so I was locked out and briefly unable to buy a new Nalgene, but it was such a passing inconvenience, it seems so weird that any other day it would bother me a whole lot.&lt;br /&gt;I always try to end things with people on a high note. It doesn't always work, and I think that's maybe why I still talk to TK sometimes, we haven't gotten to the point where you hear their name and feel a brief, I don;t know, appreciation maybe, for what you had. I was still feeling sort of sad about the way things ended with Goose last year, cuz it was so abrupt, and I didn't really have his side of the story. For all I knew he hated me, and that weighed on my mind. I sent him a friendly little facebook message though, and I got a friendly message back from him today. So I can end that chapter, cuz now it's resolved. I don't think I wanted to get into things with him again, I just wanted it to be friendly, and not weird if I see him around campus.&lt;br /&gt;I've been reading a lot of P.G. Wodehouse lately. I just finished "Carry on Jeeves" today actually. That, and all of the Colin Hay I've been listening to today are putting me in a great mood. I woke up on the right side of the bed, but initial good moods can be fleeting. A good book and free downloads of tons of corny-but-good music have me right where I want to be mood-wise.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1804949241187491427?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1804949241187491427/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1804949241187491427' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1804949241187491427'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1804949241187491427'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/09/my-my-my-its-beautiful-world.html' title='My My My It&apos;s A Beautiful World'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-8047089427778142487</id><published>2008-09-02T09:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-02T09:53:18.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Probably Not Worth It</title><content type='html'>D. is watching some Jerry Springer-esque daytime tv show, and it's kind of annoying. And by kind of I mean excruciatingly so. I don't even think she's watching, it's just on in the background. She's in and out of the room, she's IMing, I'm pretty sure she isn't paying attention to the tv, but I've already asked her to turn the tv off before, and I don't want to be the tv Nazi. It's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so &lt;/span&gt;bad though. I really wish we didn't have a tv in the room.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-8047089427778142487?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/8047089427778142487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=8047089427778142487' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8047089427778142487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8047089427778142487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/09/probably-not-worth-it.html' title='Probably Not Worth It'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-8145412768262014811</id><published>2008-08-29T06:57:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-29T07:08:44.915-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Rugby Training</title><content type='html'>I was really worried that I would be totally out of shape for this season, but things are looking good. There are always over-achieving backs, but for the most part I'm on par with my teammates. Colin is determined to kill us, but it's fun. We start every practice with a lap around the field, and then do dynamic stretches, grids, and then more laps. We have been adding another lap every day, so today we'll be up to seven. I don't know how far he's going to take this, we'll be running dozens of laps by the end of the season, but practice is only two hours long. After laps we do suicides, and then rucking and tackling drills. It's hard, but I love it. I love limping around campus because my quads are shot, I love going to dinner soaked in sweat, I love dropping into bed every night, totally exhausted, I love rugby. The only drawback is I never see my non-rugby friends. I kind of miss them. They'll keep though, and for now I'm happy to be in training.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-8145412768262014811?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/8145412768262014811/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=8145412768262014811' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8145412768262014811'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8145412768262014811'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/08/rugby-training.html' title='Rugby Training'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-8197217579817491084</id><published>2008-08-24T13:16:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-24T13:23:27.832-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Frozen Plums</title><content type='html'>It's a million degrees in my dorm room, but that's ok, because I have discovered the best summer cool-down treat ever. Frozen plums. Tangy, crisp, they make your teeth tingle, it's amazing. Frozen plums, they're going to be big, tell your friends.&lt;br /&gt;Classes and practice start tomorrow. I somehow arranged my schedule so that I never have class before 9:30, and I'll still be out with plenty of time to get to practice.  I'm  pretty excited,  although I'm extra nervous about stats since I don't have a calculator. I'll work something out, maybe some kind soul could find mine in the house and mail it to me? (please?)&lt;br /&gt;I had dinner with my friends last night and then went to a very chill rugby party. Girls only, there were never more than twenty people in the apartment, and we watched the Olympics and talked about books. Not everyone is ready to go pro, so I'm less freaked out about this season, although practices are going to be intense.&lt;br /&gt;I'm happy. I'm working on my papers. F. is fine, and seems to be settling in ok.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-8197217579817491084?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/8197217579817491084/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=8197217579817491084' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8197217579817491084'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8197217579817491084'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/08/frozen-plums.html' title='Frozen Plums'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3844950882353113398</id><published>2008-08-03T11:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-08-03T11:23:44.493-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Where To Start?</title><content type='html'>It's been so long, and so much has happened. Paris alone...I don't think I'll be able to recount all of my adventures in a single blog post. I probably won't even be able to remember them when I get home, and will just casually mention in converstion "Oh when I was in Amsterdam we did so and so".&lt;br /&gt;This weekend positively shot by.  I just came back from a walk. It's been a wet sort of day, but  don't want to look back on this trip and regret not taking a walk in the rain, so I went out. I explored the other side of the canal. It's nice, a lot of small shops and houses. Because I am a creeper, I love looking in windows, but seeing other people's houses all lit up and homey made me sad. I could hear people talking (in Dutch), and clattering dishes, and there were cooking smells, the whole thing made me feel like the little match girl, and the rain didn't help.&lt;br /&gt;It seems like every shop in Amsterdam has a cat. It's nice, if slightly gross, to see the bakery cat, or the cheese shop cat, sitting in the window, sometimes on top of a wheel of cheese.&lt;br /&gt;My friend Holdsworth turned me onto &lt;a href="http://www.drhorrible.com/"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;, and it's like my new favorite thing. I want to tell everyone I know about it, it's just so good. Joss Whedon is amazing.&lt;br /&gt;More later I guess. I thought I wanted to post, but I don't have much to say. Click that link and watch Dr. Horrible, it's totally worth it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3844950882353113398?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3844950882353113398/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3844950882353113398' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3844950882353113398'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3844950882353113398'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/08/where-to-start.html' title='Where To Start?'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3602510443713720350</id><published>2008-05-20T12:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T12:57:02.682-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Barbie Dream College</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://www.sbc.edu/"&gt;Oh man.&lt;/a&gt; Their school color is pink, their teams are called the vixens, this places is nuts. Even the name, Sweet Briar College, sounds like a finishing school. Is it really terrible that I want to apply there? They don't have rugby, that's a drawback, and it's filled with  pony girls, but it's like, Southern belle school. I could go and marry a &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hampden-Sydney_College"&gt;Hampden-Sydney&lt;/a&gt; guy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3602510443713720350?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3602510443713720350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3602510443713720350' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3602510443713720350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3602510443713720350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/05/barbie-dream-college.html' title='Barbie Dream College'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3164090816806496129</id><published>2008-05-20T08:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-20T08:30:50.005-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost Perfect, but...Not Quite</title><content type='html'>I got into the Honors Program today. It's another class with Professor Everett/Scott Oakley, and I get $2000 a year for every year I participate. It's a nice feather in my cap, I'm pretty excited that I got in.&lt;br /&gt;Even though it's great that I got accepted into the program, I would almost rather have gotten straight A's. I was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;so &lt;/span&gt;sure I was going to, I was just waiting on Abnormal Psychology, and it felt like an A. But no, I got a B+. It wasn't meant to be this semester I guess. I was saying last night that it was &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt; that some of my A's (fine, most of my A's) were A-'s, it just gives me something to strive for next semester. Mostly A's isn't bad, I can deal with one B+ for the time being, but next semester I'm getting all A's. And I'm getting an A in my summer class. It's frustrating that every semester makes A's worth less, so it's harder to boost my GPA. There's nothing for me to do right now though, but celebrate my getting into the Honors Program. I'll sort everything else out later I guess.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3164090816806496129?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3164090816806496129/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3164090816806496129' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3164090816806496129'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3164090816806496129'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/05/almost-perfect-butnot-quite.html' title='Almost Perfect, but...Not Quite'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-7423502336977972548</id><published>2008-05-10T17:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-10T18:46:01.001-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Summer Days</title><content type='html'>Finals suck. They're stressful, and people are tense, and no one appreciates that it's the end of the year, and seniors are graduating, and it's beautiful out because they're cloistered in the library. I'm not someone that is going to get into hijinks over the summer, and I'm done partying for the semester, but it feels wasteful that I'm staying in to study while people are celebrating. There have been parties, and fireworks, and slip 'n slides, but I've been staying in and working. I was even going to skip the final girls' rugby bash today, even though it was a dry event, because I can't wrap my mind around fun during finals. I eventually decided to go, but I also decided to not have fun, so it wouldn't count. I wore jeans, and I brought a textbook, and I was only going to stay for half an hour, and then go to the library. I hung around the fringes for a little while, not going on the slip 'n slide or painting my face, but it's such a nice crowd, I got sucked in. We played lemonade pong, and squirted people with the hose, and the next thing I knew I was being corralled into jello wrestling. It did not look appealing, the jello was a mix of flavors, so it was sort of seaweedy muddy brown in color, but it smelled delicious. I was given play clothes, and I ended up  kneeling in a kiddy pool trying to take out my friend Brittney. She killed me, but she's bigger than I am, and she ended up coming in second overall, so I didn't mind. It was an Experience. I had jello all over, in my eyelashes, in my ears, and I was completely slimy, until I was completely sticky that is. I'm so glad I went today. It was one of those days that just feels Good, like now all I want is to listen to Damien Rice while my hair dries from my shower. There was pizza at the party, so I didn't have to use my meal plan, (I'm somehow almost out. I don't know how I'm so low this semester, I had a lot of extra at the end of fall semester.) and I also had an orange and an ice cream sandwich. I think I'll go to the library for a little while, and then I'll come back, maybe watch a Buffy, and then go to bed. I keep thinking it's Sunday, but it isn't, and every time I remember that it's like getting a present.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-7423502336977972548?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/7423502336977972548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=7423502336977972548' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7423502336977972548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7423502336977972548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/05/summer-days.html' title='Summer Days'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1060239178839895034</id><published>2008-05-06T20:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-06T20:41:59.602-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The End of NARD</title><content type='html'>I've written about  &lt;a href="http://www.geneseo.edu/%7Edgg2/NARD/"&gt;NARD &lt;/a&gt;before, but in case you don't remember, they're a comedy/ a capella group on campus. There are only four members, Nick, Alex, Rob and Dave, and they are all graduating this year. Tonight was their final performance. I've seen them several times this year, and they've always been entertaining, funny, and in tune, but tonight was especially good. It was a big crowd, and you could tell the people hadn't just wandered over to the Green and sat down, they clearly wouldn't have missed the show for anything. The show started forty minutes late, and it started to rain, although that didn't last too long. People stayed though. Not everyone, I had gone with CWB, but she left before the show started. It was ok, though it sort of reinforced my belief that I'm All Alone. I was under the impression that when you love someone, and they love something and want to share it with you, you tolerate it. Whenever I play someone a song on my iPod, I love the person a little extra if they listen to the entire song. I love NARD, I'll tell anyone as much, but no one felt like joining me, and that's ok. Nick said it all when at the end of the show he told the audience how much it meant to him that we were all there, and that we were happy to be there. I wouldn't have wanted to drag people along if they were going to leave midway, or stay and be bored, or make me feel apologetic for loving the show and wanting to stay until the end. It was too good for that, and I wasn't alone, the entire audience was brought together by our mutual appreciation for these four boys.&lt;br /&gt;I used to wonder which member of NARD was my favorite, like with the Beatles. It was always close, but Rob (tenor II) secured his spot tonight. (I think he's probably the Ringo of the group. Alex is Paul, Nick is John, Dave is George. They fit the roles surprisingly neatly, I didn't even have to give it much thought.)  Their families had all come, and they were heading into their last number, and Rob got all choked up as he told his groupmates how much they mean to him, and how amazing it's been performing together these past four years. He started to cry, which set my second favorite, Dave (bass) off, and the four of them struggled to get through Billy Joel's "Lullabye", but they held it together enough for it to sound really beautiful, and be really moving.&lt;br /&gt;I bought their cd after the show, even though it was $10 that I don't really have. I don't know the guys from NARD personally, but I'm really going to miss them. I went to their Christmas show back when I was just getting to know Dana, and Goose and I went to see them on our only real date. I've been thinking a lot about this year, and when I remember the good times I have to give NARD their due. Their shows were bright spots.  I feel lucky that I got to see them as much as I did, and I think $10 is a real bargain for having their cd, and being able to listen to it whenever I want to remember what a great group they were, and how much they meant to my freshman year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1060239178839895034?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1060239178839895034/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1060239178839895034' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1060239178839895034'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1060239178839895034'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/05/end-of-nard.html' title='The End of NARD'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-2565046984748772104</id><published>2008-05-05T11:01:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-05-05T15:08:21.183-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Anticipate</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="sqq"&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;“&lt;/span&gt;&lt;a style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);" class="sqq" href="http://thinkexist.com/quotation/when_things_mean_a_very_great_deal_to_you/334245.html"&gt;When things mean a very great deal to you, exciting &lt;b&gt;anticipation&lt;/b&gt; just isn't safe.&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0);"&gt;”&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Dodie Smith&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I have an envelope in my near future, and the anticipation is like a drug. I want to get in, but just knowing that the letter is coming is exciting, whatever the outcome. I was all excited today when I checked my mailbox, even though I know it's early. It was empty, but there's always tomorrow. It gives me a rush, turning the dial, every nerve on edge, it's exciting. I'm setting myself up for a fall, I know I'm kidding myself when I say I'm anything short of desperate to get in, but I can't shake my optimism. I still believe I'm going to be happy, and since I'm not happy here, I feel like a solution will be dropped in my lap. I wish I had applied to more places. Getting into the honors program would be a delightful feather in my cap, but it wouldn't be as nice as transferring. I want a fresh start, I need wide open spaces, room to make the big mistakes. I need to not listen so closely to Dixie Chicks lyrics.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-2565046984748772104?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/2565046984748772104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=2565046984748772104' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2565046984748772104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2565046984748772104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/05/anticipate.html' title='Anticipate'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-2551097731735342077</id><published>2008-04-27T10:28:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-27T10:55:51.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Alumni Weekend</title><content type='html'>Sometimes it's better to not be excited for things, because it's so easy for fantasy to put reality to shame. I thought Alumni Weekend would be way more fun than it really was. It wasn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;bad&lt;/span&gt;, I had fun, but when when I was picturing what it would be like, I didn't consider things like bruised noses, or stomachaches or rain. Lots of people had a really great time, I had an ok time. The game was good, and I liked watching the boys' game, (it was great seeing Colin in action), but it wasn't anything to write home about really. I'm only posting about it because I was so vocal about my excitement. At the very least it was interesting. I was in the mood to let things happen, and so I was friendly and social, and I ended up at Denny's with Lord Licorice at three AM. It's  interesting when things that should be uncomfortable aren't. It was awkward,  but I feel like anyone could be friends with anyone else if they tried, and Licorice is a nice guy. It's sad, but I'm more comfortable with guys that I'm not attracted to, and so I'm more relaxed and likable. I'm a little young to give up just yet, but maybe the solution is to find someone I can be myself around, and then twenty-five years later realize that I've &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;grown &lt;/span&gt;to love them. CWB told me the other day that she's pretty sure she'll be unhappy in life, and that if she gets married she'll probably get divorced. At the time I was appalled, and it's still depressing, but maybe it's just realistic. But then what's the point in having hope, or trying at anything?&lt;br /&gt;If nothing else, Alumni Weekend made me realize that 1. boys are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;disgusting&lt;/span&gt;, and 2. even if I still like them, I do not want to date a rugger. I'd be better served getting a dog.&lt;br /&gt;Mum is coming to visit and I'm excited.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-2551097731735342077?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/2551097731735342077/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=2551097731735342077' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2551097731735342077'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2551097731735342077'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/04/alumni-weekend.html' title='Alumni Weekend'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-7186101715913583055</id><published>2008-04-25T07:30:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-25T07:51:20.156-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Breakfast</title><content type='html'>I don't like eating breakfast with people. On the weekends the dining halls don't open until 11, and I have time to wake up and get my head straight before I go, so I can be sociable at brunch. Weekdays however, are a totally different matter. I'm thinking about getting to class, and I don't want to be bothered. It isn't usually a problem, but today Logic Boy straight accosted me at breakfast and ruined my bagel eating experience. I'm getting sick of the awkwardness, and I do not have the emotional energy required to hold another loser guy's hand while he works through his issues,despite the fact that no one &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;understands &lt;/span&gt;him the way I do. If these people hold it for like ten years, they can come and pay me, and I'll listen to every complaint they throw at me. Right now though, I'm 19, and I can't take on other people's problems. Finals are coming up, and my personal life is stressing me out enough as it is. I do not need some random guy telling me I'm beautiful, and acting like he is my boyfriend, flipping out when I let a day go by before responding to his facebook messages. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Messages&lt;/span&gt;. As in more than one. He doesn't get to be that needy. Before I was shallow, but now his personality turns me off too. I can't get lunch at the Union, or breakfast at MJ because he knows my schedule and doesn't seem to understand that an iPod or newspaper are the equivalents of Do Not Disturb signs. He's messing up my routine, and I don't have that much wiggle room! I'm already unable to go to the library cafe for breakfast Tuesdays or Thursdays, or lunch Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays cuz that's when Goose is there. When and where am I supposed to eat?? I hate boys! The only solution is to live in my room, emerging only to go to class. I can't even go to the gym without seeing someone I'd rather not. Why are college guys so regimented? Shouldn't they be wild and unpredictable?&lt;br /&gt;This year cannot end soon enough.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-7186101715913583055?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/7186101715913583055/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=7186101715913583055' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7186101715913583055'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7186101715913583055'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/04/breakfast.html' title='Breakfast'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-6299146639788830874</id><published>2008-04-20T10:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-20T10:47:34.985-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Upstates and Updates</title><content type='html'>We had our last rugby tournament of the year yesterday. We still have Alumni, but practice is over, and yesterday felt pretty final. I even put my ring and necklace back on today, for the first time in like a month. We'll have a fun practice sometime this week, and then Alumni, and then the senior banquet, but the season is pretty much over. Our seniors are graduating, Sully isn't even coming to Alumni, and then they'll be gone. I didn't get to know them well enough. We spent the night at Leigh's house on Friday, and I got to see her bedroom. You wouldn't think that she would have American Girl dolls, or a really big, nice doll house, or a lot of the same cds that I have, but she does. It's weird to think about.&lt;br /&gt;The tournament was really fun. It was roasting hot, and we got slaughtered our first game because we were all mentally still in the car. We started getting it together for the second game, but we lost when the other team rallied during the second half. We were only guaranteed two games, so we left around one, which was somewhat frustrating. I got to play all of both games though, and once I got warmed up I felt happy with the way I played.&lt;br /&gt;The boys' tournament is today, and almost all of them went. They had enough people to field two full sides with subs, so a lot of people get to play. The campus feels sort of depopulated with them gone, but I suspect that's just me.&lt;br /&gt;They had an outdoor showing of "The Kite Runner" last night. It was good, but the subtitles were hard to read because they were the same color as the background most of the time. The book was better, but I enjoyed myself. Outdoor movies are nice, it felt very summer-y.&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait for this upcoming weekend. This week in general should be pretty fun. Tuesday is GREAT day, so we don't have any classes. I'm going to stay up late on Monday and watch the meteor shower, then we're all going on a picnic on Tuesday. We'll have our fun practice, and then it will be Alumni, with whatever craziness that entails. I'm relieved I'm not drinking, it'll minimize the possibilities for badness. I don't want drama, I just want it to be fun.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-6299146639788830874?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/6299146639788830874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=6299146639788830874' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6299146639788830874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6299146639788830874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/04/upstates-and-updates.html' title='Upstates and Updates'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-6032180675360385294</id><published>2008-04-16T11:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T11:29:58.924-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Hahaha</title><content type='html'>I was listening to &lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=7jEXDPzqo2g"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;, and watching &lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=HUlJHFeB0vs"&gt;this&lt;/a&gt;, and the effect is AWESOME.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-6032180675360385294?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/6032180675360385294/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=6032180675360385294' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6032180675360385294'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6032180675360385294'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/04/hahaha.html' title='Hahaha'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-4778620784528733025</id><published>2008-04-16T07:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-16T07:27:39.897-07:00</updated><title type='text'>It's Coming! Its' Coming! It's AHHHH!</title><content type='html'>We have our last tournament this weekend in Cortland. This is my last week of rugby practice for my freshman year. On the one hand, I'm excited because I'm that much closer to the summer. On the other hand, I'm that much closer to exams. On the other hand, I was getting sick of rugby people (mostly rugby boys). On the other hand, I'm not ready for them to graduate and drop off the face of the earth. (I'm channeling Tevye, I like his mulling style.) I like our seniors. There are a few exceptions, but the good ones more than make up for the bad. I didn't really think of what the end of the year would mean, I sort of assumed college was like Purgatory, it just keeps going until you work off yours sins and get to be an adult and have an apartment and babies. That isn't to say it isn't, there's just a change in the cast from time to time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-4778620784528733025?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/4778620784528733025/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=4778620784528733025' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4778620784528733025'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4778620784528733025'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/04/its-coming-its-coming-its-ahhhh.html' title='It&apos;s Coming! Its&apos; Coming! It&apos;s AHHHH!'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-5514759693972296536</id><published>2008-04-13T11:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-13T11:46:31.021-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oh Weekends</title><content type='html'>I can't get the music from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Les Miserables&lt;/span&gt; out of my head. This is serious. It's a vicious cycle, the songs get stuck in my head and so I play them, and then they're fresh in my mind. I've listened to "Do You Hear the People Sing?" at least twenty times this past week.&lt;br /&gt;It's been a pretty eventful weekend. I had the (very beat) boy's rugby date party on Friday, and I saw two plays yesterday. The party was awkward and boring, but the plays were very good. I saw &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Forever_Plaid"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Forever Plaid&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; in the morning, and then &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Pillowman"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Pillowman&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt; later in the evening. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;Forever Plaid&lt;/span&gt; was so good that I was sincerely tempted to see it again, there was another performance starting right after &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Pillowman&lt;/span&gt; ended, and it's NARD's (a comedy/a capella group that I'm a big fan of) last show before they graduate. I probably should have gone, but I didn't want to go by myself, and I had to do laundry. Three plays in one day is too much anyway. Anyway, if I had really wanted to go I would have gone alone. I'm getting better about doing things on my own. I even went to brunch by myself today, which is a big deal. I normally wouldn't even think about sitting alone in the dining hall, it's embarrassing, but I brought a book, and it wasn't a big deal after all. Plus, there were biscuits, so it was totally worth it.&lt;br /&gt;I think I'll go to the gym. I don't have anything to do, and I feel like I'm less active now that I have practice everyday. I don't know why, I work out two hours a day instead of one, but that's just how I feel.&lt;br /&gt;I wish I had someone to live with next year.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-5514759693972296536?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/5514759693972296536/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=5514759693972296536' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/5514759693972296536'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/5514759693972296536'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/04/oh-weekends.html' title='Oh Weekends'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-2830991506012629484</id><published>2008-04-07T07:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-07T07:25:59.506-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Feel Like Mr. Poe</title><content type='html'>It seems like I've had a cough all semester, I'm shocked Vicky hasn't killed me for keeping her up at night with my disgusting hacking. I'm not even getting good abs from all this, it's very annoying.&lt;br /&gt;We had our first rugby tournament this past weekend. It was tremendous fun, and we even won a game. We lost two out of three, but at this point scoring a try is a huge victory for us. I also got my traditional, first rugby game of spring sunburn. I'm practically purple, and it hurts a lot. So now I'm Miss Sunscreen, I even put it on before going to class.&lt;br /&gt;This week is going to be a big unfun, but I'm getting sort of sick of this semester, so every week is sort of a drag. I just want it to be summer already.&lt;br /&gt;I'm going to the rugby boys' date party with Clarence this weekend. Probably. I've been invited to the date party four times now, and I've never gone before, so I'm not positive it'll ever pan out. I want to go, I bet we'd have a good time. At the same time, it might be a relief to not go and not have to see...people.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-2830991506012629484?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/2830991506012629484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=2830991506012629484' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2830991506012629484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2830991506012629484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/04/i-feel-like-mr-poe.html' title='I Feel Like Mr. Poe'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-7243357170409588293</id><published>2008-03-31T19:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T20:23:37.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Working Through Disappointment</title><content type='html'>I think of Vassar as a person. Or rather, I think of Vassar in terms of the women that go there, and what I imagine them to be (beautiful, smart, exotic, talented. Women that do interesting things, like backpack through South America, and foster baby monkeys, and go to parties like in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;The Great Gatsby&lt;/span&gt;, and then have beautiful, well-lit apartments with Chinese screens and fabulously handsome boyfriends that like to read the Sunday Times over breakfast.), but also Vassar, a person. Vassar is male for some reason, and very attractive, but in a cold, unapproachable way. He isn't nice really, or he isn't friendly, but he's very smart and funny, in a kind of biting way. I wish he was here now, I'd have a thing or two to say to him. Except I wouldn't have the guts, especially because I'd freeze in the face of his cool indifference, realizing that the fact that I wanted it so much is why I'll never have it. I thought it would be easier to make my case if Vassar were a person, but I know it wouldn't be. It'd be hell, trying to justify myself to a school that I'm picturing as a smug bastard. It's such a pretty mental image, myself as a Vassar girl, but I have to really let it go, not just pretend to in order to kid myself and fool The Fates. It isn't meant to be.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-7243357170409588293?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/7243357170409588293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=7243357170409588293' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7243357170409588293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7243357170409588293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/working-through-disappointment.html' title='Working Through Disappointment'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-6866239014528270133</id><published>2008-03-31T12:09:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T18:50:16.198-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Guess I'm a Geneseo Gal</title><content type='html'>&lt;pre&gt;Dear Caroline,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I talked with Vassar Admissions today and learned that we will&lt;br /&gt;probably not be taking any transfer students this year! They don't&lt;br /&gt;know for sure yet but we have had a record number of applicants and&lt;br /&gt;that usually means all the places will be taken.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that you can get to a school that you enjoy and I wish you&lt;br /&gt;only the very best for the future.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tony&lt;/pre&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-6866239014528270133?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/6866239014528270133/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=6866239014528270133' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6866239014528270133'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6866239014528270133'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/i-guess-im-geneseo-gal.html' title='I Guess I&apos;m a Geneseo Gal'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-745387893389489618</id><published>2008-03-30T17:17:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-30T17:28:49.981-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friends</title><content type='html'>Am I a good friend? I try, but most people don't set out to be bad friends. I just feel like...I don't know, if I were a good friend, my friends wouldn't make me feel bad about myself. They'd avoid hurting my feelings, cuz I try to avoid hurting theirs.&lt;br /&gt;I keep thinking things are going to reset at the end of this year, and I'll get another blank slate. I guess it's carry-over from senior year, but I need to start thinking about consequences. I wish I could start over. I was thinking about transferring today. Not just to Vassar, just not Geneseo. It's too much like City Honors. I'm jealous of people that aren't in school. I half wish I could just leave. Just like, vanish, and never see these people again. I hate it when people use their blogs to bitch about their friends and how life is so hard and it isn't fair, and yet here I am. I know I should just pull up my socks and concentrate on finishing the semester, and then I can work things out from there. I'll be home, and away from school people, and things will look better. Right now though it's hard to imagine things not sucking. I just want to go away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-745387893389489618?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/745387893389489618/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=745387893389489618' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/745387893389489618'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/745387893389489618'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/friends.html' title='Friends'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-7406646152553551764</id><published>2008-03-27T10:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T10:06:33.384-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Random Acts of Kindness</title><content type='html'>I sometimes just sit around on autopilot, not being a jerk, but not really extending myself, or going out of my way to be nice. Not today though, today I'm going to strive for something more. I don't know how I'll do this, but when the opportunity presents itself I'll be ready. My eyes are open to how much a simple gesture can mean, and I'm going to do some good today.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-7406646152553551764?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/7406646152553551764/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=7406646152553551764' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7406646152553551764'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7406646152553551764'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/random-acts-of-kindness.html' title='Random Acts of Kindness'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-5603434651580061043</id><published>2008-03-19T06:56:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-19T07:10:29.688-07:00</updated><title type='text'>So Far So Good</title><content type='html'>Things have been going really well this trip. We've been getting along and seeing a lot of sights, and just having a grand old time. Yesterday we went to the seaport and got cheap tickets to see "A Chorus Line", (Cheap being a relative term. I wasn't crazy about spending $60, but I haven't spent very much money this trip. We've only paid for food once, and it was dessert in Little Italy. That isn't bad, we're really being very economical.) and then went to the Met. It was cool, they were shooting an episode of "Gossip Girl" out front. We didn't stay as long as we would have liked, Nicole's dad wanted to take us to dinner, so we had to be back in Queens by 5, which meant leaving at like 4. We saw the costumes exhibit though, and some American and Egyptian stuff.&lt;br /&gt;We're going to see the matinée show of "A Chorus Line" later, and then we'll probably hook up with Clarence and Grace for dinner at Clarence's restaurant. And that'll be it. We go home tomorrow, and I'm super excited to see everyone. Nicole's dad's cats are nice, but clawed, and not fully comfortable with me, and there's something abut being around a friend's parents that makes you appreciate your own. It's been a fun trip though.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-5603434651580061043?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/5603434651580061043/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=5603434651580061043' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/5603434651580061043'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/5603434651580061043'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/so-far-so-good.html' title='So Far So Good'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3124336125825593634</id><published>2008-03-16T19:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-16T20:14:52.149-07:00</updated><title type='text'>MoMA</title><content type='html'>So far the trip has been good. We've eaten at Clarence's restaurant twice, brunch yesterday and dinner today, we've gone to Central Park and horsed around (there's a video of me and Clarence wrestling floating around somewhere), and today we went to Mass and MoMA. I'm not really a fan of modern art as a rule, I like pictures that are really lifelike and detailed, like &lt;a href="http://www.topofart.com/images/artists/Jehan_Georges_Vibert/paintings/vibert001.jpg"&gt;"The Marvelous Sauce"&lt;/a&gt;, but I like MoMA, especially on a Sunday afternoon, when 90% of the visitors are not speaking English. It's good for people watching. We wandered for a few hours, and then collapsed on one of the giant bench/couch/mattress things. We were resting, head to head, and people started taking our pictures! It was crazy, at least five people took our picture, and some people came right up close. One woman was very nice, she took a series of pictures from a variety of angles, and gave me her card. She's a photographer, and she even asked for my email and said she'd send me the pictures if they turn out ok. The guy next to me was creepy though, he took several pictures of me, just me, not my friends, and he got up very close. It was awkward, especially because I do not like having my picture taken.&lt;br /&gt;Everyone I told I was going to New York for break assumed I would be going clubbing, but we've been back in Queens every night by ten. We were only out that late because Clarence kept feeding us, we're all stuffed. I had the roasted chicken, which was every bit as good as I remembered it being when Mum ordered it. I also had the apple pie, and we all shared two orders of the air-baked fries. It was insane, even after not eating all day.&lt;br /&gt;We're sleeping in tomorrow and I'm very excited. We've been getting up at eight, which is earlier than I wake up at school.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3124336125825593634?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3124336125825593634/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3124336125825593634' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3124336125825593634'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3124336125825593634'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/moma.html' title='MoMA'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-8268006320128591741</id><published>2008-03-15T05:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-15T05:53:53.906-07:00</updated><title type='text'>NYC</title><content type='html'>So here we all are in Mr. L.'s really nice apartment, hanging out before we venture forth into the city. We're going to Clarence's restaurant for brunch, then who knows? It's overcast, so we probably aren't going to Central Park today, but we'll find something to do, we're very resourceful. We're taking pictures too, so all of our goings-on will be photo documented.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-8268006320128591741?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/8268006320128591741/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=8268006320128591741' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8268006320128591741'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8268006320128591741'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/nyc.html' title='NYC'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-8471282131855260062</id><published>2008-03-12T13:38:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-12T13:46:27.106-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Mandolin Sliced Rat Brains</title><content type='html'>I really really want it to be summer. I'm toiling in the law office o'fun for about a month before I go abroad, and then for another month after I come back, but I just love summer. There's the farmers' market, and Shakespeare in the Park, and it's warm and sunny, and it's one of my favorite seasons. It always feels like something exciting could happen in the summer. Something exciting is happening, I'm going to Amsterdam, but I mean little exciting things too.&lt;br /&gt;On a side note, today is going really well. I thought I slept through my first class, but it was canceled. The universe is looking out for me, possibly because I have near-perfect attendance. I've only missed one class this semester, and snowboarding trumps abnormal psych.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-8471282131855260062?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/8471282131855260062/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=8471282131855260062' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8471282131855260062'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8471282131855260062'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/mandolin-sliced-rat-brains.html' title='Mandolin Sliced Rat Brains'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3291372275749077316</id><published>2008-03-10T20:49:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T21:11:00.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Time</title><content type='html'>College is the first time in my life that I wish there were more hours in the day. The solution is probably sleeping less, but I don't know if that's going to work, less sleep means I have less energy, which makes it a lateral step in the long run. Monday and Wednesday I have class from 9:30-11:30, and then I volunteer at Holcomb until 12:20, and have class again at 3:30. Rugby starts for real after spring break, so that'll be Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Friday 5-7, with tournaments taking up all of most Saturdays. Tuesday/Thursday I have class from 9:55-11:10, and then again at 2:10-3:30. Friday I'm done with everything, classes and volunteering, by 12:30. I was hoping to start volunteering at Teresa House this semester, but they aren't getting back to me. I'll have to look into that after break, but that'll be another four hours a week that's accounted for. I usually go to the gym for an hour in the afternoon, but that will change when I have almost everyday practices. I wish I had a car and knew how to drive. That would really open up job opportunities, which are pretty limited on campus. I saw a job milking cows, that might be fun, but I couldn't get there. I don't even have my bike here. I really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;don't want to work in the dining hall, even being in there for the time it takes you to eat results in the CAS food smell lingering in your clothes and hair for ages. I don't even know if I'm hire-able, I don't have experience, and it's midway through the semester. So I don't have time, and I probably couldn't get a job even if I did. Perfect.&lt;br /&gt;I just wanted to make it clear that I'm not sitting on my hands out here. I really am busy, and stressed, and calling me at ten right during midterms to chew me out seems a little unfair, at least to me, in my current sleep-deprived state. Not that fairness matters or counts for anything, just as an observation.  &lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=rkRIbUT6u7Q"&gt;This &lt;/a&gt;was in my head just now, I wonder why. There was also just an episode of "Degrassi" where Marco considers whoring himself out in order to pay for his going out. I don't have that kind of expenses though, and I don't know anyone that's willing to pay. So I guess I'm spared. I feel like Rose in &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;I Capture the Castle&lt;/span&gt;, you can't go on the streets in Geneseo.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3291372275749077316?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3291372275749077316/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3291372275749077316' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3291372275749077316'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3291372275749077316'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/time.html' title='Time'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-4001078717914070266</id><published>2008-03-10T07:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-10T07:24:14.550-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Final Sprint Before Break</title><content type='html'>Today was the worst bit, I had two papers due and a Child Development test. So really, I guess last night was the worst bit. Now I have a Stage Musicals Midterm on Wednesday, and I think I'm in the clear. But I'm not 100% certain. I should look into that. It's only a matter of time beforeI'm on the road with my friends and their snake though, so I can deal with this. Spring break is a week away, I just need to hold on a little longer.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-4001078717914070266?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/4001078717914070266/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=4001078717914070266' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4001078717914070266'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4001078717914070266'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/final-sprint-before-break.html' title='The Final Sprint Before Break'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-7766929448974332014</id><published>2008-03-07T09:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-07T10:09:03.469-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Gray Sky Eyes</title><content type='html'>Today is the sort of day that is perfect for a long walk with your iPod, followed by a nap. It's chilly but not cold, and the air has a nice dampness that is what I imagine Ireland is like.&lt;br /&gt;Clarence and I were horsing around in the basement of the library last night, half watching "Cabaret" and now I have finger print bruises on my wrist. Added on top of my rugby bruises, I look battered. He didn't mean to squeeze me that hard, he was very apologetic when I showed him the bruises. I gave as good as I got, he was tied hand to foot while I seven tortures tickled him.&lt;br /&gt;I'm reading "A Thousand Splendid Suns". It's very good, but maybe not as good as "The Kite Runner". I do enjoy having something to read though, it's a nice break from my complusive journaling.&lt;br /&gt;The Womens' Rugby Date Party is tomorrow night. I can't decide if I'm excited or apathetic, but I hope it's a fun time. I don't see why it shouldn't be, it's an evening of dressing up and hanging out with my friends. And Goose. So there you go. I don't want to wear a dress, I feel very self-conscious, but the dainty-ness bar is pretty low for girls rugby, so I shouldn't worry.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-7766929448974332014?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/7766929448974332014/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=7766929448974332014' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7766929448974332014'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7766929448974332014'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/gray-sky-eyes.html' title='Gray Sky Eyes'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-7170250311907973896</id><published>2008-03-05T10:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-05T10:29:55.029-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Application Woes</title><content type='html'>I sent in my transfer application yesterday. None of my friends are supporting me, but that's ok, I can see their points. The professor that is recommending me told me that he was offered an interview to teach there, years and years ago, but he never went because Geneseo hired him first. He said he's always felt a little wistful about it though, despite loving Geneseo. I knew he was the right professor to ask.&lt;br /&gt;I can picture myself coming back next fall, I could stay here and be happy, but I'm curious. I would almost feel relieved at being rejected. It would be a Sign. Getting in would be really conflicting, because while there are things that I love about Geneseo, I'm pretty certain I'd go. The list of reasons to stay is short and cowardly, and I'd always have that same wistfulness, wondering what I missed out on. I shouldn't have told CWB about this, I felt so good about my decision until I did.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-7170250311907973896?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/7170250311907973896/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=7170250311907973896' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7170250311907973896'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7170250311907973896'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/application-woes.html' title='Application Woes'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-233514560841254194</id><published>2008-03-02T10:45:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-03-02T11:12:02.306-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Highly Lame Weekend</title><content type='html'>Last week was a total drag, I had a lot of midterm work, and tackling practices in the squash courts are extremely unfun.  My knees, wrists and ankles are all bruised. I had high hopes for the weekend however, I thought it would be a good one, with square dancing and parties. Friday came around though, and I didn't want to go out. I was tired. I almost fell asleep at dinner I was so tired. Chelsea and I had planned on going out, but I just wasn't up to it. I went to bed at ten. A weak Friday isn't the end of the world, but I woke up sick on Saturday. It felt a lot like strep, and I fumed about Health Services being closed on the weekends, then spent the day in my pajamas, sleeping and watching online netflix. Saturday night was supposed to be a blast, starting with square dancing, then going to a 90s pop star party, and then to a frat, but that just wasn't in the cards. I got as far as the Union, (I wanted to see Max playing with the string band, but he isn't a fiddle player, so he was in the back and I couldn't see him from the door, and I didn't want to pay to go in just to see him.) but I felt too rotten to dance, so I just went back to my room. My friends all went out and had crazy drunken shenanigans, I stayed in and did laundry. I also watched "Happenstance" which was really good. I like Audrey Tautou, she reminds me of Little Aunt Grace. Saturday night isn't a great time to do laundry, all the shut-ins assume it would be, and then there aren't any free dryers. I was up pretty late folding and whatnot, and then a friend came by and needed comforting, so I ended up staying up pretty late. Goose may not be perfect, he pulls me through knots and goes home all the time for work, and I said I was giving up and not caring, and we were just going to be friends, but I can't do that, but at least he isn't as bad as Friend X's boy. After an hour of listening to her story I wanted to kill this boy, he's so horrible, and there isn't any &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;reason &lt;/span&gt;for it, but I also wanted to call Goose and thank him for not being a creep and tell him he can leave me twisting all he wants, he's still better than this other guy, and I'm lucky to have whatever lame not-anything thing we have. At least I'm not being tortured. My situation is frustrating, but not actively painful.&lt;br /&gt;I wanted to go to the Genesee Abbey today with Outing Club, but I missed practice, and one of the captains was going and I didn't want a lecture about how if I'm too sick for rugby then I'm too sick for outings. I don't have much work though, because I had so many tests last week, so I don't know what I'm going to do with myself. I guess I'll work on my Geneseo Honors essay, but that hardly seems like a fun conclusion to a weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-233514560841254194?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/233514560841254194/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=233514560841254194' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/233514560841254194'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/233514560841254194'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/03/highly-lame-weekend.html' title='A Highly Lame Weekend'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1483936353072408352</id><published>2008-02-27T13:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-27T14:29:18.779-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Rugby Musical</title><content type='html'>I have to come up with an idea for an original musical for a class, and I've decided to have it be about rugby. I'm thinking the story should follow a rookie class in their first season, focusing on like, three players for the sake of not being totally confusing. I'm having it be about men's rugby, and I'm pretty excited. I don't need to put together a whole show, just come up with a story and a couple of scenes. So far I've decided to have a practice scene with &lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=DH-jWfm8z1c&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;lineouts &lt;/a&gt;and passing balls around looking all synchronized and sweet, and like, having rookies mess up and have to run laps (there's a slight hazing theme). I also want a game scene with a dramatic injury, and to include the &lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=kd0kDxP04eI&amp;amp;feature=related"&gt;Haka&lt;/a&gt;, and to have a scene with men's and women's rugby partying together. I'm going to try to use at least a couple of real rugby songs in the musical, I'm thinking &lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=Xifok-B3sIU"&gt;"Alouette"&lt;/a&gt; for the party, and maybe "Jesus Can't Play Rugby" if I can work it in. I can't write songs, but if this was going to be a real musical I'd want a song about getting your nickname, something like "You Gotta Get a Gimmick" from "Gypsy". I'm basing some characters on real rugby boys (Big Tree totally gets a part, and Chase, as the heart-of-gold, bull dog-y, naked guy), and despite Clarence's worries that I'm going to tarnish their image or make them seem haze-alish and bad, it's going to send a pro-rugby message. I love the boys ruggers, I don't know what he's worried about.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1483936353072408352?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1483936353072408352/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1483936353072408352' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1483936353072408352'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1483936353072408352'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/02/rugby-musical.html' title='A Rugby Musical'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-6370723065064856890</id><published>2008-02-24T05:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-24T06:08:39.135-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Juno"</title><content type='html'>My friends and I went to a party Friday night and it was pretty beat, so we decided not to go out last night. Instead, we went to the new Applebees and then to the movies. I couldn't remember ever going to Applebees before, but it wasn't the dining hall, so that was great. It's decently cheap, and you get a ton of food, but the service is terrible (no one in Geneseo has any experience working in restaurants because there aren't any). After dinner we went to see "Juno" which I still hadn't seen. I really expected to like it, but...I didn't &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;dislike &lt;/span&gt;it, but it was sad. It was also funny, I laughed out loud a couple of times, but it sort of brought me down. And made me want a baby. Child Development also makes me want a baby, so I feel like it's coming at me from all sides.&lt;br /&gt;This upcoming week is going to suck, but next weekend is going to be amazing. I'm square dancing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and &lt;/span&gt;snowboarding. It should be pretty sweet.&lt;br /&gt;I don't think things are going to work out with Goose. We can still be friends, and he said he'd go to the girls rugby formal with me, but I want more than he's offering. Which isn't to say he's being mean or unfair, we just seem to want different things. I'm ok with being just friends, I'm super comfortable with him, it could be a Big Tree-esque sort of situation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-6370723065064856890?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/6370723065064856890/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=6370723065064856890' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6370723065064856890'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6370723065064856890'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/02/juno.html' title='&quot;Juno&quot;'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3488117112063866351</id><published>2008-02-21T20:15:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-21T20:40:04.866-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Many A New Day</title><content type='html'>"Why should a woman who is healthy and strong,&lt;br /&gt;Blubber like a baby if her man goes away?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't like liking Goose as much as I do, it's really frustrating. The Marine was always at my beck and call, I could see him whenever I wanted. I don't see Goose even close to as much as I want to, and I really miss him. My friends are all sick of hearing about it, but I want to talk about him all the time. I want to be around him all the time. One of my biggest reasons for looking forward to practice starting is that then I'll see him more often. I really really wanted to go to the boys' rugby date party with him. I hate that I can't, even if he thinks I'm nice for not going. I don't think he's asking anyone else, he told me he went stag last semester. That's a relief, but I want to go. I'd much rather be his date then have him be mine at the girls' team date party. I want to see him more than once a week. He says we need to find a balance, but this current system is making me feel totally &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;off &lt;/span&gt;balance. I'm mentally &lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=iWUBmO1hVhk"&gt;dog whining&lt;/a&gt; I want to see him so much. I know how lame this all is, but I can't help it. I'm doing my best to get a grip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3488117112063866351?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3488117112063866351/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3488117112063866351' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3488117112063866351'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3488117112063866351'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/02/many-new-day.html' title='Many A New Day'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3095984057883099941</id><published>2008-02-17T12:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-17T13:10:49.787-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Taking A Chance</title><content type='html'>I have a habit of keeping guys at an arms length emotionally. I don't know why I do it, but I do. This time though, I'm letting my guard down. I like someone, I'm fairly confident that he likes me, and I'm letting him in. I'm self-disclosing about how dorky I am, I told him about my various histories with his teammates, I'm trusting him to like me despite these things, and he seems to. It's exciting in a scary way, letting him in like this means I'll be that much more disappointed if it doesn't work out, but he's worth it. Maybe that's the key, I've finally found someone I like enough to assume the risk. It feels different, I don't want beads, I don't want to share details with my friends, I just want to see where this goes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3095984057883099941?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3095984057883099941/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3095984057883099941' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3095984057883099941'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3095984057883099941'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/02/taking-chance.html' title='Taking A Chance'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-6674161122152513060</id><published>2008-02-14T09:57:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-14T10:00:36.563-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentines Day</title><content type='html'>I've come to the conclusion that you don't need a boyfriend on Valentines Day. I'm celebrating with the early Beatles. Please Please Me is as good as dark chocolate, and I like the young, idealistic love that they sang about. It feels very valentine-y.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-6674161122152513060?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/6674161122152513060/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=6674161122152513060' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6674161122152513060'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6674161122152513060'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/02/valentines-day.html' title='Valentines Day'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-6555022260323339078</id><published>2008-02-13T20:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-13T20:25:32.430-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I am the Cat's Pajamas</title><content type='html'>and it is FREAKING ME OUT.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-6555022260323339078?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/6555022260323339078/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=6555022260323339078' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6555022260323339078'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/6555022260323339078'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-am-cats-pajamas.html' title='I am the Cat&apos;s Pajamas'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3308024986959075642</id><published>2008-02-11T08:54:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-11T09:05:05.108-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Grapenuts</title><content type='html'>One time last summer in New Hampshire we were all sitting around at Camp Dodge, waiting for dinner. We couldn't cook our meal until the camp people had eaten, and we were all starving. All we had to eat was a box of grapenuts, and we were surrounded by people eating...I don't remember what the protein was, but they had corn on the cob and strawberry shortcake, and we were jealous. Passing around the box of cereal, Brailey suggested that we try to look sad, so that someone would see and offer us some of their food. It didn't work, we crunched away until it was our turn, but it was a funny idea. We had food, it wasn't like we were poor little match girls, but at the time it seemed wrong that people would see us eating plain, dry, grapenuts and not offer some of their extra. Mum took me to Wegmans yesterday before dropping me at school, and I bought a box of grapenuts. The box weighs about thirty pounds, so I'm set for life, but it's something I had been wanting. It isn't a delicious sort of cereal, but I like it. It confirms my status as an outdoorsy person. Whether I'll eat grapenuts and not chex mix remains to be seen, but it's a nice idea. It looks good too, to people coming into my room. They'll see the giant box and go "Wow, clearly this girl is outdoorsy and has strong teeth."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3308024986959075642?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3308024986959075642/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3308024986959075642' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3308024986959075642'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3308024986959075642'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/02/grapenuts.html' title='Grapenuts'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-7223924211483350426</id><published>2008-02-04T19:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T19:54:13.998-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I need a pet hedgehog</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp2.blogger.com/_baApRT5tkdw/R6fdfWN8gbI/AAAAAAAAAAs/PtT3-ATFcbs/s1600-h/hedgehogs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp2.blogger.com/_baApRT5tkdw/R6fdfWN8gbI/AAAAAAAAAAs/PtT3-ATFcbs/s320/hedgehogs.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5163339028413317554" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I really &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;really &lt;/span&gt;want a pet at school, Grace, and Nicole and Dana have snakes, Chelsea has a fish, I need a hedgehog. Vicky said I could get a pet, I really think a hedgehog is the way to go. What are some good names? I'm thinking Juniper, like the Russian short film &lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=DkdklcGbojc"&gt;"Hedgehog in the Fog"&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-7223924211483350426?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/7223924211483350426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=7223924211483350426' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7223924211483350426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7223924211483350426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-need-pet-hedgehog.html' title='I need a pet hedgehog'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp2.blogger.com/_baApRT5tkdw/R6fdfWN8gbI/AAAAAAAAAAs/PtT3-ATFcbs/s72-c/hedgehogs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-2247887655345041323</id><published>2008-02-04T11:19:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T11:26:40.638-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I Feel Like Mr. Luxury</title><content type='html'>I had a great weekend, but square dancing and indoor rugby practice turned out to be too much for my feet, and I now have a really attractive black toe. Seriously, I look like I've been exploring the Arctic, and it's extremely painful. Was it worth it? Yes, but I'll be mighty sad if the nail falls off, especially with Winterfest (an outdoor rugby tournament) this weekend. The boys' team isn't going, their captain is too ashamed that they didn't stay fit over the break, but our last season beat any sense of shame out of the girls' team, so we get to play.&lt;br /&gt;Alternative Spring Break may not be in the cards, the people wouldn't take our money on Friday, and now there are only five spots left and the leader won't return my calls. I'm pretty annoyed, but if it doesn't work out we'll all just go camping. Nicole's dad is an outdoor buff, and he said he could loan us gear. It sounds fun, but I'm still pulling for Kentucky. Those five spots are still fair game.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-2247887655345041323?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/2247887655345041323/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=2247887655345041323' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2247887655345041323'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2247887655345041323'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/02/i-feel-like-mr-luxury.html' title='I Feel Like Mr. Luxury'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-2600136395521345180</id><published>2008-01-31T13:49:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-31T19:23:29.914-08:00</updated><title type='text'>No Swanky Summer Camps for Caroline</title><content type='html'>I didn't get the job at Camp North Star. It's disappointing, I thought I would be hired and then I could stop worrying about summer plans and live in the now where boys ask for my number and then don't call and I forget to do two-page reviews of "Show Boat" until the night before. So my present and future both suck. *Gazes into past* Nope, no relief there. *Sigh*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-2600136395521345180?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/2600136395521345180/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=2600136395521345180' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2600136395521345180'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2600136395521345180'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/01/no-swanky-summer-camps-for-caroline.html' title='No Swanky Summer Camps for Caroline'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-7820459541573654790</id><published>2008-01-30T11:37:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-30T12:01:06.561-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Reading the Paper</title><content type='html'>One of my favorite things about being at school is that I can get a free New York Times every weekday. I like different special sections, my favorites being the Sunday magazine section that inevitably gets stolen from the library before I get to it, the food section, and the science section. Really though, I enjoy talking about the articles almost more than reading them. I always find something that someone I know would find interesting, and I like casually bringing it into conversation, or alternatively, excitedly blurting it out the next time I see the person. "Clarence! the cover story for the food section made me think of you! It's all about big parties of men eating beef and drinking beer!" This never elicits the response I want, which would either be having the person ask me to summarize or send them the article, or for them to exclaim in wonder at my intellectual-ness, reading the paper every day. Not that I'm able to, most people here could read the paper if they had to, but that I seek out knowledge even outside the classroom. They should at least submit to my conversation leads, but no, they would rather sit in silence than hear about the great article on online dating site's secret algorithms I just read. Their loss I guess.&lt;br /&gt;The article on beefsteaks was a good one, it made me hungry, which the food section is usually good for. We don't have very much red meat here, and when we do it's cooked until it's dry and shoe leather-y. There was also a good sounding &lt;a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/30/dining/30mini.html"&gt;pie recipe&lt;/a&gt;, but I can't see myself baking a pie in the dorm kitchenette. It's a shame, I'd like to bring something to the Outing Club dinner on Friday, but I guess I'll just give money.&lt;br /&gt;I went to the gym with girls rugby least night. It was fun, but I felt sort of awkward, not really knowing what to &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;do &lt;/span&gt;at the gym. I sort of followed Alex around bleating pathetically, asking her how to work various weight-lifting mechanisms. I think I got the hang of it though, and I'm going again tonight. It seems like a good habit to get into, especially when you take into consideration how many extremely muscle-bound guys there are at the gym. Some of them have gone overboard and no longer have necks, but some are still human looking and attractive.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-7820459541573654790?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/7820459541573654790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=7820459541573654790' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7820459541573654790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7820459541573654790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/01/reading-paper.html' title='Reading the Paper'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-7909243702456584114</id><published>2008-01-27T18:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-27T19:14:34.679-08:00</updated><title type='text'>ASSASSINS</title><content type='html'>I am taking a class on stage musicals this semester, and while it is filled with stage people that are obsessed with "Phantom of the Opera", it is also fun. The first day of class I was shocked by the sight of our TA, who was sporting a mustache that would make &lt;a href="http://www.facade.com/celebrity/photo/Wyatt_Earp.jpg"&gt;Wyatt Earp&lt;/a&gt; proud. I assumed he was just A Character, he was also wearing a vest and at least five clunky silver rings, but the professor told us he was playing John Wilkes Booth in a campus production of the Sondheim musical ASSASSINS. Since we have to attend a certain number of live performances for the class, and we go to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Geneseo&lt;/span&gt; and there is nothing better to do on a Friday night, Clarence and I decided to check it out. I had low expectations, but live theater is fun. The show was in the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;blackbox&lt;/span&gt; theater, which closely resembles the Irish Classical Theater in Buffalo, it's small and intimate, and since we got there late we were in the front row. Since the show doesn't have any sort of solid plot, I've been having a hard time describing it to people who want to know what it was &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;about&lt;/span&gt;, but I still enjoyed it. I had only heard of two of the assassins, Squeaky &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Fromme&lt;/span&gt; and of course John Wilkes Booth, but the program gave a short history of every character. They weren't made to seem heroic, they were all clearly crazy, but I liked Leon &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Czolgosz&lt;/span&gt; because he was handsome and had a Polish accent, and I felt sorry for Giuseppe &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;Zangara&lt;/span&gt; because he was so unhappy and had a permanent stomach ache. That would really suck. I liked the songs, and I was excited that I could find them on Ruckus. Overall it was a good time, but I hated the constant shooting of the stage guns, I jumped every time. They did a great job though, and the a &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;capella&lt;/span&gt;/comedy group &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;NARD&lt;/span&gt; was in it, so that was great. Plus, I saw my TA in the dining hall today and he still had his mustache. Personally, I hope he keeps &lt;a href="http://geneseo.facebook.com/photo.php?pid=31576443&amp;amp;op=1&amp;amp;view=all&amp;amp;subj=16504688&amp;amp;id=16507378&amp;amp;ref=mf"&gt;it&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-7909243702456584114?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/7909243702456584114/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=7909243702456584114' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7909243702456584114'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/7909243702456584114'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/01/assassins.html' title='ASSASSINS'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-9169577927295683390</id><published>2008-01-22T19:30:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-22T20:16:22.877-08:00</updated><title type='text'>First Day of Class</title><content type='html'>Today should've been great. All the elements for greatness were there, I love my classes, I joined a club, applied for a job, made alternative spring break plans, but I'm sad. I'm sad about Heath Ledger, I liked him a whole lot. I liked the idea of him and Michelle Williams and their baby living in Brooklyn. I loved "10 Things I Hate About You" and "Brokeback Mountain". I'm sad he's dead. It isn't just that though. I'm applying to Vassar with very little support from my friends, and I don't expect to get in. I still want to go there though, so I'm really giving it my best shot. Today though, we were talking about housing next year, and I asked what they would do if I transferred. If we got a townhouse and I left they'd lose it and be stuck in corridor style, resenting me. They told me, not unkindly, but plainly, that if I though I was going to leave then I shouldn't go into this with them. Honestly, if I get into Vassar I'll probably go, but I don't want to withdraw from housing plans because I MIGHT not be here next year. What if I don't get in? I know it isn't fair to expect my friends to risk their housing, but if I don't get in and I didn't throw my lot in with them then what will I do? I'll be rejected and living with a stranger. All in all, I'm anxious, which is a sad end for what could've been a really happy day.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-9169577927295683390?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/9169577927295683390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=9169577927295683390' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/9169577927295683390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/9169577927295683390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/01/first-day-of-class.html' title='First Day of Class'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1688587547738798791</id><published>2008-01-19T16:14:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-01-19T16:32:00.115-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to School</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_baApRT5tkdw/R5KVaMFAKXI/AAAAAAAAAAc/s6V5dqrB704/s1600-h/009.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_baApRT5tkdw/R5KVaMFAKXI/AAAAAAAAAAc/s6V5dqrB704/s320/009.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157348800443984242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_baApRT5tkdw/R5KVLcFAKWI/AAAAAAAAAAU/PSp187PMr5w/s1600-h/003.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_baApRT5tkdw/R5KVLcFAKWI/AAAAAAAAAAU/PSp187PMr5w/s320/003.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157348547040913762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_baApRT5tkdw/R5KU_8FAKVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RTgGhEW4n5E/s1600-h/001.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_baApRT5tkdw/R5KU_8FAKVI/AAAAAAAAAAM/RTgGhEW4n5E/s320/001.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5157348349472418130" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am back at Geneseo and (finally) unpacked. I never realized how much STUFF i have, it's sort of embarrassing. It's worth it though, I'm very happy with the way my room looks. It's a little busy, but I like it.&lt;br /&gt;V. isn't moving in until Monday, so I have a single for the weekend. I like the privacy, but I'm a little lonely. My friends aren't around, so I'm going to watch "Bridget Jones" and start reading for my classes.&lt;br /&gt;It's good to be back.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1688587547738798791?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1688587547738798791/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1688587547738798791' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1688587547738798791'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1688587547738798791'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2008/01/back-to-school.html' title='Back to School'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_baApRT5tkdw/R5KVaMFAKXI/AAAAAAAAAAc/s6V5dqrB704/s72-c/009.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-487963892146784073</id><published>2007-12-16T13:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T13:40:03.859-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Finishing my Flex Points</title><content type='html'>My meal plan came with $150 for the vending machines, which at the start of the semester seemed insane. Who could possibly spend that much on vending machines? As the semester wore on I did spend a decent amount, pop tarts were my only breakfast option when we had home games, and while I know that bottles of water are wasteful, the tap water here tastes like iron. I didn't use all of my money though, not even close, and as the semester drew to a close I realized that I had better get spending (They don't roll over any leftover money, it's just gone.). I had been intrigued by the condoms in the vending machine all semester. They come in a flat, white, rectangular box plainly labeled "Condoms" and if nothing else I wanted the box. They were also the most expensive thing in the machine, so that was good. I opened the box, and to my delight they come in a variety of cheerful colors! CWB bought a lot of condoms too, but refused to trade them like &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pogs"&gt;POGS &lt;/a&gt;the way I wanted to.  The whole flex points system seems very wasteful to me, but it was undeniably fun finishing my card. I had $.40 left though, so I guess Geneseo wins.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-487963892146784073?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/487963892146784073/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=487963892146784073' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/487963892146784073'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/487963892146784073'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2007/12/finishing-my-flex-points.html' title='Finishing my Flex Points'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-4984512186008912207</id><published>2007-12-11T12:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-11T12:58:01.501-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Stress</title><content type='html'>I think it's cruel and unusual to give me a new roommate during finals. Just in case my brain wasn't imploding with stress, they needed to throw that sweetener into the deal.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-4984512186008912207?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/4984512186008912207/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=4984512186008912207' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4984512186008912207'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4984512186008912207'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2007/12/stress.html' title='Stress'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-8243086508817869701</id><published>2007-12-07T12:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-07T12:19:27.975-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Mail</title><content type='html'>The bad thing about not being able to open my mailbox 90% of the time is that I don't get important stuff in time to do anything about it. The good thing is that all my mail piles up. I actually got into my box today, and I had a TON of mail! Junk mail, Christmas cards AND Halloween cards, tuition bills from October, and GLOVES! I was so excited about getting gloves I made a bunch of snowballs, laughing at nature's new inability to make my hands cold.&lt;br /&gt;The stupid date party is tonight. Big Tree even &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;shaved&lt;/span&gt;, he got a &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;haircut&lt;/span&gt;. They're cleaning the house! C.L. is taking D.S, and I'm being very excited for them and not at all a dog in the manger. I honestly think I'll have more fun sledding on dining hall trays and hanging out with N. than I would if I went, especially if I went with The Marine. Ew.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-8243086508817869701?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/8243086508817869701/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=8243086508817869701' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8243086508817869701'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/8243086508817869701'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2007/12/mail.html' title='Mail'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1942814384324618442</id><published>2007-12-06T09:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-06T09:46:09.463-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Losing the Perfect Roommate</title><content type='html'>L. is perfect. I've loved living in Steuben with her. She's really funny and nice, she introduced me to her friends in the hall and even invites me to hang out with them sometimes. We like the same music and tv shows, she even reads The Superficial and isn't annoyed by my really obnoxious ringtone. She is a gem. I'm so sad that she's going abroad next semester. She made me feel more at home in this room in a couple of weeks than I did for most of the semester when I lived with F.N. and N. in Jones. It'll be up to me to make the room homey after she leaves, cuz a lot of the nice touches, the rug, the curtains, are going with her. It's been really fun though, and I feel like she taught me some important lessons so that roommate #4 will be less likely to hate me. Friendliness seems to be key, who would've guessed? I wish L. was staying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1942814384324618442?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1942814384324618442/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1942814384324618442' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1942814384324618442'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1942814384324618442'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2007/12/losing-perfect-roommate.html' title='Losing the Perfect Roommate'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3473032943505085529</id><published>2007-12-04T07:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-04T07:35:19.286-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snowy Day</title><content type='html'>I'm a terrible judge, but we have what looks like almost a foot of snow. It's very pretty, though it means my jeans are always soaked to the knee, and because I don't have gloves here my knuckles turn blue when I go outside, making it look like I've been punching people. It actually feels a little fake, I don't feel like I've been here long enough for it to snow. I didn't have any class this morning, so I'm pretending it's a snow day until two when I have class. I'm going to devote my time to working on papers, but maybe the illusion of a holiday will make it go easier.&lt;br /&gt;In other news, Friday is the boy's rugby team's date party. I heard about it from a rugby wife that is going, and it completely depressed me. The guys will flirt with me when I'm there, but they don't think about me afterwards at all. I don't even want to go, but the idea that none of the guys asked me was sort of sad. Then, this morning when I checked my facebook, I had a message from The Marine, asking me to the party. If watching "A Clockwork Orange" last night hadn't completely  cheered me up, this would have. Now I can feel ok about not going because I was asked and declined. I love the way things work out.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3473032943505085529?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3473032943505085529/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3473032943505085529' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3473032943505085529'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3473032943505085529'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2007/12/snowy-day.html' title='Snowy Day'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-9005994574612393390</id><published>2007-11-15T14:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-15T14:26:36.783-08:00</updated><title type='text'>"Are you a pharmacist?"</title><content type='html'>"No."&lt;br /&gt;"Well...do you know a pharmacist?"&lt;br /&gt;"&lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;No&lt;/span&gt;"&lt;br /&gt;"Well &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;ok&lt;/span&gt;, have a great night then"&lt;br /&gt;*hangs up phone*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What the heck was that?? I feel like there are three possibilities: A. someone was prank calling me (though I don't know who would think that was funny, it was just odd) B. someone mixed my number up with a drug dealer's and gave out my number by mistake C. I'm getting spam calls on my cell phone. None of these possibilities are appealing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-9005994574612393390?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/9005994574612393390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=9005994574612393390' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/9005994574612393390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/9005994574612393390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2007/11/are-you-pharmacist.html' title='&quot;Are you a pharmacist?&quot;'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1093414325858894588</id><published>2007-11-14T12:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-14T12:49:28.169-08:00</updated><title type='text'>History of Siberia</title><content type='html'>WHAT WAS I THINKING???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1093414325858894588?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1093414325858894588/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1093414325858894588' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1093414325858894588'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1093414325858894588'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2007/11/history-of-siberia.html' title='History of Siberia'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-3774165532796046907</id><published>2007-11-12T18:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T18:33:48.853-08:00</updated><title type='text'>I'm rejecting my nickname</title><content type='html'>I don't even want to go by Tux. I'm throwing the beads away, and getting "Caroline" on my jacket. I also don't want "The Big O" for my nickname. If people can't come up with not stupid things I don't want any part of this.  I'm really disappointed by this. I wanted a sweet nickname, but better to not have one then to have a stupid one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-3774165532796046907?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/3774165532796046907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=3774165532796046907' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3774165532796046907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/3774165532796046907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2007/11/im-rejecting-my-nickname.html' title='I&apos;m rejecting my nickname'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-2373512930176239782</id><published>2007-11-11T11:28:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-11T19:20:58.461-08:00</updated><title type='text'>In all my years of breeding rats...</title><content type='html'>So I was initiated yesterday. It wasn't that bad, it was pretty anti-climactic actually. There were wacky highlights, breaking into several off-campus houses and apartments looking for porn, dizzy bat races on a hill, toothpick lifesaver races,  &lt;a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chubby_bunny"&gt;chubby bunnies&lt;/a&gt;, and getting our nicknames. My nickname is pretty stupid, and I'm disappointed. The one girl on the team that I really dislike picked it, and it isn't affectionate, she isn't laughing with me.  I'm &lt;a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=canadian+tuxedo"&gt;Canadian Tuxedo&lt;/a&gt;. It isn't the end of the world, I've already shortened it to Tux, but I wanted a cool nickname.&lt;br /&gt;Afterwards there was a party and we christened our new pong table, then went to the IB where I got on as over thanks to Jesse's ID. Colin was working the door, but he let me in anyway which was very nice of him. I would have been surprised if he had blown me in, but I still appreciated it. M.A. wasn't there, which had been my entire motivation for going, but I had fun. Marie and I found various boys to dance with, one of whom had the worst breath I've ever smelled, and we stayed until closing.&lt;br /&gt;And now I'm a vet. We're ordering jackets later, but I think I'll get "Caroline" on it instead of "Canadian Tuxedo."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-2373512930176239782?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/2373512930176239782/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=2373512930176239782' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2373512930176239782'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/2373512930176239782'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2007/11/in-all-my-years-of-breeding-rats.html' title='In all my years of breeding rats...'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-4687753194561511893</id><published>2007-11-09T10:42:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-09T10:51:43.760-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Registration</title><content type='html'>For all those people that scoff at the benefits of Camp Weona, I now have proof that it was a valuable networking experience. Wednesday night I was IMing Butter, when somehow the subject of his friend Paul came up. Because I am a facebook fiend, and because Paul goes to Geneseo, I friended him, assuming that would be the end of it, and I would be one facebook friend the richer. To my surprise, Paul and I began messaging, and hit it off, chatting for a couple hours. When the topic of registration came up, Paul (who is a senior and so gets to register super early) offered to hold classes for me. So, thanks to Butter, so thanks to Camp Weona, I now have the perfect schedule. (Monday/Wednesday/Friday next semester I have Stage Musicals, Child Development and Abnormal Psychology. Tuesday/Thursdays I have Reading as a Writer and Elementary German.) I also have the offer of rides back to Buffalo, and someone to go to the hockey game with tonight. I'm pretty jazzed. Camp Weona is now aces in my books.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-4687753194561511893?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/4687753194561511893/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=4687753194561511893' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4687753194561511893'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/4687753194561511893'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2007/11/registration.html' title='Registration'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3782926531253048850.post-1240480674436035309</id><published>2007-11-01T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-01T09:08:08.528-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unfair</title><content type='html'>Why is it that I get sicker when I opt out of drinking? Yesterday was the rugby 40 run, and not, as I had hoped, a scavenger hunt. We all met at the field at 5:20 last night, and because I don't get the rugby emails I was wearing sneakers, but not running stuff.  We did a few warm ups, handed over our phones, keys and swipe cards, and started off towards Main street at a jog. When we got to Main street we ran around to the back of a  bar and Leigh told us that we were doing the song run, that we would stop at every bar in town and learn a song. Since it was early evening on Halloween however, the streets were swarmed with small children tick or treating, forcing us to sing behind the bars and not in front, like bawdy Christmas carolers. There are a surprising number of bars in Geneseo considering there isn't a drug store. We learned a bunch of songs that I had  heard, but not really known including "Yo Ho", "Twelve Days of Rugby", and "Jesus Can't Play Rugby." After we had visited all the bars we ran to the Meadows where the rest of the veterans were waiting for us. We serenaded them with a rousing chorus of "We Love You Veterans" and then they started handing out 40s. Halloween or not, 40s race or not, I did not want to pound that much malt liquor on a Wednesday evening. Because they never force us to drink, Leigh handed me a two liter of pepsi. Jill and Erica don't like beer, so they had mixing bowls of mountain dew and vodka, and Oakes got a liter of diet coke because she has diabetes. I ended up splitting my two liter with Alex, but that is still four servings of soda, about 600 calories. The vets counted down and the race began. I don't know if anyone reading this has ever tried, but attempting to chug a liter of soda is really really painful. I had tears in my eyes it hurt so much. Vets came by and helped me drink it, but my stomach was killing me, even though i only drank the equivalent of one of our large drinking glasses at home. I drank it really fast, which was the problem. The other girls that had cowboyed up and had the 40s were pretty drunk several of them threw up)and the vets took care of them, getting them food and driving them home. I went back to my room and chilled on my bed until it was time to get ready for the party. In all modesty, my costume was great. Everyone liked it, and I had a ton of fun wearing it. I didn't stay at the party long, but a lot of people complimented me on it, and walking home I ran into some rugby guys that I don't know very well, and they thought it was really funny. The scrum cap really pulled the whole thing together. &lt;br /&gt;R. thought it was appropriate to have a million people pre-gaming in our room when I got back, so I went into the lounge and watched "The Nightmare before Christmas" while people carved pumpkins. Sha had said they weren't going to be in there for long, but an hour and a half later when they still hadn't left I was getting pretty mad. I actually thought about getting the RA, but didn't. She would have gotten a warning, but not kicked out of housing, so then I would have to live with two really pissed off roommates that would possibly kill me in my sleep. Instead, I really passive aggressively sulked. Her friends eventually got the picture, and they finished their beers and went elsewhere. I would feel bad, but I've made it really clear that I don't want people drinking in our room. They spilled beer on the rug and now it smells like a brewery in here.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/3782926531253048850-1240480674436035309?l=quiet-study.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/feeds/1240480674436035309/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=3782926531253048850&amp;postID=1240480674436035309' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1240480674436035309'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/3782926531253048850/posts/default/1240480674436035309'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://quiet-study.blogspot.com/2007/11/unfair.html' title='Unfair'/><author><name>Caroline</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00795845405681799901</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry></feed>
