Duck Fluff

"You're a swimmer, aren't you?"

My professor caught me by surprise. I'd slipped into the lead on our field trip to the Writing Center--they had free food, so I'd already been there--and she'd pulled me up short with the question. I fumbled for a moment, trying to decide how she knew. I didn't smell like chlorine: I'd been out of a pool for weeks. My hair wasn't wet: my alarm hadn't gone off that morning in time to take a shower. The dead-giveaway shoulders were disguised: my backpack made it impossible to know that they were any wider than the rest of me.

"Yeah, I am. How'd you know?"

"That streak of hair on the back of your neck is bleached blond by the chlorine."

I laughed aloud. I'd been picked out as a swimmer many times, but never by the gathering of too-short hairs on the nape of my neck. "Duck fluff" was always a subject of mild amusement for my teammates and me, but I had never been branded on account of the extra light streak at my nape.

First Final

Sounds kinda contradictory, don't it? Yes, this should probably be in the Starving Student blog, but I just don't feel like a starving student yet, honestly. I haven't even done my first grocery trip. Anyhow...

I took my first final yesterday. 'Twas the culmination of my six-day course on Dante's Inferno, and it wasn't half bad. Two hours, and my responses filled two lined sheets of paper front and back. I felt pretty good about it.

In other news, shortly after the final, there was an end-of-Late-Summer-Honors dance...with non-LSH roommates, and basically anyone else who found out about it invited as well. I got there late, but enjoyed myself immensely. And everyone seems to have this wild notion that I know how to dance. Highly amusing, really. My roommates, who were also in attendance, voiced jealous impulses. I told them to make fools of themselves and it would get better, but they didn't take my advice.

I met a guy who's really good at leading, though. He is also under the impression that I know how to dance, so he asked me to do some swing and later on some waltz. Surprisingly enough, we did not look like complete idiots, which is a fine compliment to him. I tend to instinctively rebel against any sort of leading, but he had me doing some simple lift-dip things during the swing and I managed the waltz fairly well on top of that.

Oh, and finding all the cultrual nuances that separate British from American makes me laugh. My British roommate can entertain me for quite some time discussing kitchen rolls.

Thalius

This is my daemon. He spent a lot of time as a tiger, but I'm pretty happy that he settled as a lynx. It says that means that I'm competitive, responsible, modest, solitary, and proud. I think it's interesting that modesty and pride are both on the list.

Divine Genius

Okay, so perhaps divine is pushing it, but it's sorta a play on words...yeah.

Dante Alighieri blows me away. That's really all there is to be said. It is impossible to read too much into him: he meant everything! And just when you think he slipped up, just when you think he made a mistake--haha, joke's on you, simpleton. Nope, instead he was poking fun at someone, or paying homage in some sly, obscure way. And now, some quotes from my class on Inferno. Probably not as funny out of context, but whatever.

Dr. Sowell: "Always use a Latin phrase when an English one would suffice."

Kyle (he's so funny): "Couldn't it just be coincidence?"
Dr. Sowell: "Ah, dear, innocent Kyle. OF COURSE NOT!"

Dr. Sowell: "WOULD YOU EVER MAKE YOURSELF A FIGURA CHRISTI?"
Josh: "No."
Dr. Sowell: "Are you sure?"
Josh: "Yes."
Dr. Sowell: "Never?"
Josh: "No."
Dr. Sowell: "Never ever?"
Josh: "Never ever."
Dr. Sowell: "Never, never, ever?"
Josh: "N--"
Me: "Shut up already! He's going to prove you wrong!"

Dr. Sowell: "For years people thought that Dante had simply made a mistake, and forgotten that Virgil said Beatrice would tell him what the future held. Bah! Those were the same people who said he couldn't find a better rhyme than ome and ume. Idiots."

Book List

I managed to endure one of the ordeals I described last night: I picked my books. They are as follows:

Leather Bounds
Mark Twain: Selected Works
Edgar Allan Poe: Selected Works
The Works of Washington Irving
The Complete, Fully Illustrated Works of Lewis Carroll
Medieval Epics and Sagas (containing things like Beowulf, The Son of My Cid, The Song of Roland, etc.)

Mythology and Folktales
The Once and Future King, T.H. White
Celtic Myths and Legends, Peter Berresford Ellis
Best-Loved Folktales of the World, Joanna Cole

Drama
The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
Cyrano de Bergerac, Edmond Rostrand

Writing Aids
Robert's Rules of Writing, Robert Masello
The Plot Thickens, Noah Lukeman
Eats, Shoots, and Leaves, Lynne Truss

Mental Health
Lord of the Rings (combined volume), J.R.R. Tolkien
The Lays of Beleriand, J.R.R. Tolkien
Going Postal, Terry Pratchett (I wanted to put Thief of Time in as well, but no room)
The Dark is Rising / Greenwitch / The Grey King / Silver on the Tree, Susan Cooper (I couldn't fit Over Sea, Under Stone in the box)
The Killer Angels, Michael Shaara

There are so many I had to leave out. I didn't even fit The Divine Comedy in. I might be able to sneak a few more slim volumes into the writing materials box (the binders fill it from top to bottom, but not from side to side).