the Dalaverse

My art history text really, really needs to stop referring to shafts. My brain is too slash-addled for me to hold back the hysterical giggles.

Am at that fatalistic fuck-it-all stage in my pre-midterm panic. It's rather refreshing. I figure, I can at least BS my way though the slide identifications, and that's 35%. And the comparision also shouldn't be too hard, so that's another 15%, leaving me with 50% that I don't have to worry about. The definitions are 15% as well, and I might maybe can scrape by, leaving me with 65%, which is passing.

The essay? For the essay I'm just going to hold my breath and jump in.

In three and a half hours it will all be OVER.

And then I can study for my polysci midterm -- Monday -- and write my lit paper -- next Friday. Which, let's face it, aren't even going to get a glance until Sunday night and Wednesday, respectively. At the earliest.

And THEN! Then it's spring break! I can chill out in G-burg, catch up with everybody, watch "Ultraviolet" again, and writewritewrite. I'm still bugged by the AU bunny in which Elizabeth and Will are twins raised by their uncle Swann in London, and they sneak aboard Jack's ship and end up accidentally kidnapped. It would be J/W and E/N, and I really don't know what I would do about the other movie elements like, oh, let's see, how 'bout the main PLOT with Barbossa and the Pearl and the curse. It's just a really annoying, really tempting bunny.

Okay, back to staring at art. I love Titian's Venus of Urbino best, with her come-hither eyes and Fidelity asleep at her feet.

ETA: I hate the frisbee golfers. During the winter it was only the drunk and/or obsessive freaks keeping up with that baffling hobby, but now you can't walk outside without having to duck or risk getting brained by a neon fucking frisbee. And they're always in the parking lot, and we have the window open, and last night I was awakened by pyschotic frisbee golfing at two in the morning, and I don't like it and I'm PISSED OFF.

Thank you.

I think...I might actually be able to do this.

We shall see.

Portrait of Khafre, Giza, diorite, 2575--2525 BC!

Arnolfini Wedding Portrait by Jan Van Eyck, Flanders, oil on wood panel, 1434!

David, Bernini, Rome, marble, 1623!

The Calling of Saint Matthew, Caravaggio, Rome, oil on canvas, 1597-1601!

Arena Chapel, Giotto, Padua, fresco, 1305!

Caves of Lasgaux, France, pigment on rock all, 15000-13000 BC!

GO ME! ::boogies::

If I crawl back in here in two hours and burst into tears upon seeing this post, I will have known I was mistaken.

You see this icon?

This is an icon of VICTORY.

I went, I saw, and I KICKED THAT TEST'S ASS.

Hyperventilating right up until the moment Guyton put up the first slide. Then Aphrodite of Melos was going "So, punk, arencha afraid of me?" and I was all "Shyeah right, beyotch, you are going DOWN."

I then proceeded to beat down the slide identifications, knock the snot out of the comparison essay, give the definitions an atomic wedgie, and TEAR THE DRIPPING, STILL-BEATING HEART OUT OF THE "CIVIC DUTY IN ART" ESSAY.

And yeah, perhaps I shouldn't have included my final example of Caravaggio because it didn't make as much sense as the others, but I STILL used one more example than was required.

I am going to make a new CD and drive up and down route 5, shouting my victory to the heavens.

I borrowed the first season of "Angel" on DVD from Karen and I forgot what an impression that first episode made on me. Some cheesy lines, yeah, but also some great one-liners, decent acting from Boreanaz, DOYLE, a Cordelia I could completely love, good fight choreography. And now, the second time around, I'm appreciating Tracey Middendorf as our primary guest star; I remember her from one of the early eps of "Six Feet Under" and she's perfect for the role, somebody you could sympathize with and get attached to even though you knew she was doomed. And Lindsey -- hot damn. How did I not fall madly in love with Christian Kane the second I saw him? Have my tastes changed that greatly in four or five years?

Things to ponder. And now, back to the soon-to-be dearly departed "Angel," even if my interest did wane around the third season.

ETA: Bwaha! I totally forgot about Doyle charging the fence! "...Good gate." Glenn Quinn really was great -- a masterful introduction to a character, giving us just enough to get us interested in him, but still keeping him a mystery for a few episodes.

AGAIN: "City of" was not as good as I remembered, but "Lonely Hearts" was great.

Also, "Survivor" -- this season's been so unbalanced. It's great to see all the good old players again, but then we've got stuff like Jenna M.'s mom and this breakdown of Sue's. Which I'm not going to judge her for -- what Hatch did was absolutely inexcusable, and Jeff's typical snarkiness was not the way to address the issue. Did anybody not expect Sue, of all people, to blow up at him for the way he conducted himself and asked that question?

Anyway. Looks like the inner bitch is taking Jerri over again. Knew I couldn't like her for long. Boston Rob is a dick, but then sometimes I like him, so I'm all confused. Tom's "the witch is gone" hillbilly chicken dance was inappropriate, but if I forgot why he was doing it, really funny. I'm not rooting for anybody at this point. Maybe Kathy, because she's sort of funny, and Colby, because he's still really, really hot. And I've always had a weird liking for Lex, even though his earlobes freak me the hell out.

Oooh, "Secret Window" commercial! I hope for Johnny's sake that it doesn't tank.

I think that's all I've got for today. Finally I'm winding down.