Judi +_+

Something this is actually useful for:

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Fri, 23 Aug 2002 15:00:27 GMT

I went over to written journals awhile ago, plus I had no internet access all summer in Yellowstone, but I thought this would be useful to give peoples my new info for this school year.

Michigan State University
562 McDonel East
East Lansing, MI 48825

517 353 1203

=)

I love fortune cookies

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Mon, 06 May 2002 22:45:57 GMT

"Someone will invite you to a Karaoke party."

Warning

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Tue, 30 Apr 2002 16:41:31 GMT

Taking an organic chem final right after an anthropology essay final is not advised. It may cause severe mental stress.

Cause I just said that something was "icky icky poo poo" Oh well, 4 down and 2 to go!

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Mon, 29 Apr 2002 04:12:56 GMT

I don't understand it. People who have spent the entire semester not putting any effort into schoolwork are suddenly putting in hours and hours right before finals? Why? It seems so silly. Either apply yourself entirely, throughout the whole semester, or don't at all.

All this stressing out, all this frenzy, it seems so silly to me. What does it matter how well you will do on your chemistry exam? You will still live and die, just like everyone else. In fact, 10 years from now, you probably won't remember whether you passed or failed your exam. Yes, there is the argument that maybe you won't get into (med school/grad school/whatever), but when you think about it, what difference does -that- really make? It may be what you want to do, but, following that path, can you be sure that any other path would not be just as good for you? Or better? Perhaps you end up on another road that's even better. You don't really know. Maybe, even, it doesn't matter what kind of career you follow, because your life would end up the same way anyway. And really it will. Everyone lives and everyone dies.

I'm not being pessimistic and saying that life is pointless because we all die. But I don't understand the great fuss that people make about what road they take to get to that end. I go to class because, well, I actually want to learn. I want to know everything. I know how silly that is, but that's what I want to do, so I learn. But the people that don't want to learn anything, put everything off and then try to cram every bit of information in right before the exam, just so they can get a good grade.... I'm sorry, but that is not the point of college. It's not an obstacle to get through. It's a place where you can pick up some valuable information that could potentially enrich your life. I don't know, maybe it's just the craze of everything going on at once, school ending and there being 10 days until I leave for Yellowstone, but it seems like the whole world has gone mad!

Fortune cookie people are on crack:

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Sun, 28 Apr 2002 01:29:36 GMT

"You are domestically inclined and will be happily married."

I don't know anyone who is -less- domestically inclined and I sure as hell do not want to get married! It reminds me of Sacraments at DC. Mr. Bloomfield was giving an example to the class and he was like, "When Judi gets married," and I gave him a look, and he's like, "IF she gets married,"

It's not yet, but soon....

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Wed, 24 Apr 2002 02:02:59 GMT

'It's May, it's May, the lusty month of May,
That lovely month when everyone goes blissfully astray.
It's here, it's here, that shocking time of year,
When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear.

It's May, oh it's May,
That gorgeous holiday,
When every maiden itches for fun,
Wholesome or un-

It's mad, oh it's gay,
Depraved in every way.
Those dreary vows that everyone takes,
Everyone breaks,
Everyone makes divine mistakes,
The lusty month of May.

It's May, oh it's May,
Lusty month of May.
That jolly month when everyone throws self control away.
It's time, it's time, to do
A wretched thing or two,
And try to make each precious day one you'll always rue.

It's May, It's May,
The month of "Yes, you may."
A time for every frivolous whim,
Proper or im-

It's wild, it's wild, it's gay,
A libelous display.
The birds and bees with all of their vast,
Amorous past
Gaze at the human race aghast,
The lusty month of May!"

Camelot soundtrack

Word of the day (cause it looks funny, mostly)

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Tue, 23 Apr 2002 01:27:58 GMT

"perspicacious"

Pronunciation: "p&r-sp&-'kA-sh&s
Function: adjective
Etymology: Latin perspicac-, perspicax, from perspicere
Date: 1640
: of acute mental vision or discernment : KEEN

from http://www.m-w.com/cgi-bin/dictionary

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Mon, 22 Apr 2002 00:26:30 GMT

For whoever wants to know, I did the triathlon in 3 hours and 7 mins. It was 93 degrees in Memphis, but I managed to finish without passing out (many people went to the hospital or the first aid tent). However, despite putting on sun block that was SPF 30 and supposedly waterproof and sweat proof, I got burned so bad that the skin on my shoulder was actually blistering. So that part kind of sucked. But it was a fun road trip and I did my first real triathlon!

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Fri, 19 Apr 2002 12:37:58 GMT

Cross your fingers for me, cause tomorrow will be my first olympic distance triathlon!

Well

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Tue, 16 Apr 2002 18:37:04 GMT

I haven't updated very much because I've been keeping a written journal instead. But in the book I'm reading ("Les Mandarins" by de Beauvoir) there's been some parts that made me really think and I thought I'd share one:

Henri smiled. "You know how it is when you write."
"Yes," said Julien, "you have to lie to avoid telling the truth."

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Fri, 12 Apr 2002 18:12:02 GMT

I swear the hardest part about writing is starting!

Pizza never tasted so good...

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Thu, 11 Apr 2002 01:41:47 GMT

Cause I biked 30 miles, changed and ran 3 1/2 miles right after. Woohoo! And I feel great. I'm a machine! Pizza rules.

Heh, sorry, both biking and running give you a natural high so I'm way up there.

Why you gotta love slang...

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Thu, 04 Apr 2002 00:35:10 GMT

It's possible to say "the wind kinda blew" and mean that the wind "sucked" as in, it was bad.

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Thu, 28 Mar 2002 04:17:11 GMT

Since I'm heading off tomorrow afternoon for the middle of nowhere (with no computer access) I wanted to tell everyone to have a good weekend. Happy Easter if you celebrate it!

Cause the picture made me laugh...

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Mon, 25 Mar 2002 16:58:53 GMT

All ducks aren't sweet and innocent and you prove that. You have a nasty streak.

Find your inner rubber ducky.

Down the drain

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Sun, 24 Mar 2002 17:29:03 GMT

Well, I read some stuff about writing. I read an autobiography of a writer too. And now, I'm stuck. Now, the idea of writing something that's to be read only for entertainment seems empty and shallow. What's the point in writing if I'm not going to say something? To really write, it seems that you need something to write about! All I have is a jumble of partially formed thoughts that, while I'm sometimes rather enthusiastic about them, I'm just as often indifferent to them. So here I am, ditching the 15 pages of a story I started because suddenly it has become absolutely meaningless. Hours and hours of time wasted. But that story is now gone without a thought, and other ideas are scrambling around in my mind, but will they be just as pointless to? I think to write something, you have to know something. And I don't know anything. Not anything worth knowing.
Er, and now I've just been called and informed I can go climbing if I get ready in 5 mins. So I'll continue this babble later I suppose.

I'm online too much.

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Sat, 23 Mar 2002 01:23:38 GMT

I am. Online waaaaaay too much. I started keeping a non live journal, and I lost track of how many times I wanted to write "lol" in it! Ridiculous, really. Especially since nobody is going to read it except me, and I already know I what I think is funny.

Oh well, I have to say that those little notebooks Mrs. Closson gave us for graduation are perfect for jotting things down in. Plus I get something from actually writing it that I don't get from typing. It's like when I write it, it's there, it exists, it's physical. But with this...it's online. On a web page even. It's there when I look at the page, but what happens when I go to another page. Does it disappear? Is it really there at all? It could be gone tomorrow, lost forever with countless other things that enjoyed a short existence in cyberspace and then oblivion.

Okay, that's kind of weird, but blame it on the french movie I saw. I have yet to see a french movie that wasn't incredibly fucked up. This guy (Michel) and his wife and 3 kids are heading out to this summer house they're renovating, and he meets an old classmate he hasn't seen in 20 years (Harold). So Harold wants to take him to dinner, but they need to go, so he suggests going to Michel's place for a drink, and they stay there the night and all. At dinner he brings up Michel's poem that was in the school magazine and he's somehow memorized. And he mentions the beginning of a story Michel wrote. He tries to get Michel writing again. He buys him a super expensive car to make his family life easier. He sees Michel's parents, and thinks they're annoying, so he kills them. Michel's brother found the poem and made fun of it, so Harold kills him too. Michel does start writing, and Harold thinks his family is what's making it hard for him to write. Michel said something about Harold's girlfriend being stupid, so Harold kills her. Michel finds him dragging the body out, and Harold gets some knives and says something like, "Okay, you take care of your wife, I'll get the girls. What...you want me to do it all?" Then Michel stabs Harold, who doesn't get why, and dumps him down the well with Harold's gf's body. Then the next morning he and his family drive away with the beginning of his new story... And there is absolutely -no- explanation about Harold and why he's so obsessed with Michel writing at all! Gah, French people fucking with your head...

Thoughts

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Mon, 18 Mar 2002 00:47:57 GMT

I think I've figured something out. Pretty girls have physical attraction to get guys. Cute girls have affection directed at them, which may turn into something more. Ugly girls could be pitied, and then once the pity breaks the barrier, a great personality that makes up for lack of looks can win the guys over. But what do girls who are plain (like me) have?

(This is my theory; I'm not digging for sympathetic remarks or assurances here. This is not a "Oh my gosh, I'm so fat!" "No, you're not fat!" thing.)

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Mon, 11 Mar 2002 23:32:37 GMT

French is crazy...

"Si is used instead of oui for an affirmative answer to a negative question."

Er, okay... French people on crack...

And this part in this book I'm reading...

"It's wonderful to see American women drunk," Xaviere remarked very seriously. "They're the only people who can get dead drunk without at once going to pieces."

More babble

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Sun, 10 Mar 2002 21:36:42 GMT

Reading DeBeauvoir is much easier in English ;P But in L'Invitee (She Came to Stay) she has Francoise say something that I think totally hits the mark as far as I'm concerned. She says, "It's almost impossible to believe that other people are conscious beings, aware of their own inward feelings, as we ourselves are aware of ours," So true. Sometimes I look at people and wonder if they are truly -alive-. If they experience the world like I do. If they are really sentient, or just have preprogrammed reactions to events. I don't know what it is that makes me decide a person is -real- but once they suddenly come into existence for me, I view them differently then I view those people that I wonder about. I don't know, it sounds odd I suppose, but it's true in a way.

Today

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Sat, 09 Mar 2002 21:56:04 GMT

Well, I guess I did okay today. I came in 2nd place in my gender/age group (but I got beat by a 13 year old!). Still, I have a little medal to hang from my loft (so much stuff hanging I'm afraid it's gonna fall down) and a $5 gift certificate to Dairy Queen. Oreo Blizzard, woohoo! Yeah, so 20 mins in each event I swam 41 laps (25 meter pool), biked 5.92 miles (yeah, sucky) and ran 10.2 laps (which was a little over 2 miles, kinda sucky again). Still, decent for a first time I guess.

Fortune Cookie

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Fri, 08 Mar 2002 23:32:10 GMT

"This is a great day to handle those real estate matters!"

Gonna shoot myself, but at least it's kinda funny

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Mon, 25 Feb 2002 20:02:49 GMT

Figures that it's a lovely day when I have to sit inside and write papers. Anyway, I had an assignment to write a 1 page typed love letter in French. This is something I'm not even able to do in English. Anyway, I finished it and I thought I'd put the translation here cause it's so bad it's funny.

"My dear,
What can I say that you don't know already? You know that I love you a lot. I love your smile. I love your voice. I love your hands. I love your eyes. I love all of you.
At first sight, I loved you. When I met you, I fell in love with you. And you realized that you loved me too. I didn't live until I saw you.
I will love you until I die. If you left, I would be lost. I can tell you everything. I have complete confidence in you. And I promise I will never keep a secret from you. And I know you will never keep a secret from me. Nothing can come between us.
Although we are apart, we are together. The distance cannot separate us. For now, we must be apart. But one day, we can be together forever. Each day we will see each other, and each day I will see your smile, your voice, your hands, and your eyes. And I will love them, as I love them now. Loving you, I wait for that day.
Your's always,"

It's kind of a mixture of every sappy love song I've ever heard and a bunch of movies. And it's in French. Yeeeeaaaaahh. I'd rather write a 10 page paper than have to do something like that again!

"Dear Diary, what is wrong with me?" (more nonsense you don't want to read)

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Sat, 23 Feb 2002 00:49:08 GMT

It seems like the things that people think are beautiful are things they don't see very much. Like on vacation they visit some scenic location and start the oooo's and ah's. The people that live there are probably like, "Yeah, it's nice, whatever." Even if it's something like a sunset, that you might see everyday, each time it is not the same sunset. It's one you haven't seen before. Once you "get used" to things they don't tend to strike you as beautiful anymore.

However, with people it seems to be the opposite. Not just that when you like someone they seem beautiful to you. But when you see somebody a lot, and "get used" to them, you start noticing other things and think of them in some strange positive way, if not exactly "beautiful." Even if when you first saw the person you thought they were...funny looking for instance. Then you get used to them, and when you're comfortable with them you suddenly don't know how you ever thought they were funny looking. At least that's how it usually happens with me.

But I don't know what I'm saying. I actually spent an hour and a half talking to honors college professors today. And about half the time it wasn't even about the classes they were teaching next year. Hell, one prof went on about his daughter for about 15 mins. I keep finding myself thinking in french (Zut! Mon Dieu...) and occasionally speak in it on accident. Doesn't help that I'm trying to read books in french, I suppose. Bleh, I need to go running or something.

For the incredibly bored...

judi_i_i_i_i@hotmail.com — Sun, 17 Feb 2002 05:25:50 GMT

Chapter 1 :

http://www.msu.edu/user/mcgarry1

This looks like it's gonna be a long one. That's just the first 3 pages. I have 15 so far, and I've just started!