Africa or Mexico?

Well, I officially finished up my first year of school last week. I had to exams. I think the Art History one went okay, and the English one... Did not. I feel confident for about 2/5ths of it. I think I managed a decent pass. Overall, though... I'm afraid to see what my grade will be. The prof really grilled us on some obscure characters and element. A large portion of the test was identifying the authors with the short stories, which I was a MORON for not studying. I even thought of it, too. "But there's no way that'd be on the test, it has nothing to do with plot/setting/characters/etc." Well, foolies on me. 10mins of extra studying would have put me in a much better position.

Now that I'm out of school, what have I done with myself? Well for starters, I watched Top Gear this evening - the first episode of the season. Man, I love that show. Similarly, I've discovered the Nurburgring Webcam. the track is open for the first few hours while I'm at work, and I love watching all the sports cars go through. Lots of hot hatches and crotch rockets, and tons of Porsches. Being in Germany, that shouldn't be surprising. In one single frame, I managed to see a Ferrari 430, Porsche 911 Turbo, Lamborghini Mercialago LP640-4, Audi R8, and a Ford Focus RS. I know it's on the other side of the world, but I'm totally blown away at how much I enjoy watching that live feed. Because it's happening right now!! Apparently I can rent a Porsche 911 Turbo for a full day of driving the 'Ring for about $1000. Add it to the bucket list, I suppose.

What else... I've been drawing a bit. I was challenged to draw a lone figure in a post-apocalyptic sci-fi/steampunk/fantasty setting. So I did this:



Which turned out rather well, I think. It took me longer than I would've liked, though. But overall... I think I'm pleased with it.

I read the Complete Maus comic over the past two weeks, and it's nothing short of phenomenal. Really hard-hitting - I felt so uncomfortable reading it. What a tragic story - the combination of an account of the holocaust paired with the strains of a father-son relationship. And the animal metaphor adds that much more depth to it, in a way. You could write a paper on that kinda stuff. Heck, I even did for HUMN115.

I watched 500 Days of Summer while I was working on the final draft of the challenge. What an incredibly depressing a heart-breaking movie. I loved it. I liked the completely un-cliche story, and how you really feel the rug being pulled out from underneath you. It does such a great job of subtly presenting the story from the point of view of the one character. And the ending... I can see how it can be interpreted as happy. For me, though, I totally read it as being the opposite. It's all just a cycle, and things are about to get colder and more miserable.

I've had way more spare time over the last five days than I know what to do with. It feels surreal, almost. I don't like it.
-Cril

I got out of bed today,
Swear to God I couldn't see my face.
I got out of bed today, staring at a ghost.
Who forgot to float away,
Didn't have all that much to say.
Wouldn't even tell me his own name and where'd my body go?

Where oh where'd my body go?
Africa or Mexico?
Oh where'd my body go, and where'd my body go?

Oh have you seen my ghost? Seen my ghost, seen my ghost?
Oh have you seen my ghost, staring at the ground?
Oh have you seen my ghost? Seen my ghost, seen my ghost?
Oh have you seen my ghost, sick of those god damn clouds?

Wintersleep - Weighty Ghost

Forgotten Melody

It was just before noon, and we were out on our regular walk. The air was stale and thick while the sun approached its peak in the early-May sky. We were up by the old farm supply store, Sam banging a stick along the construction fences that sealed off the torn-down grain silo and loading dock. They said it would be turned into a large grocery store – half of the entire property to be devoted to a substantial parking lot. But that was a few years ago and the lot still remains undisturbed by construction crews. At night rowdy teenagers tend to hop the fence, sift through the rubble and tag any remaining fragments large enough to host a healthy dose of spray paint.

As the stick bounced along the fence posts, I gazed down to watch Sam's feet pound away the blocks of sidewalk. His jeans are faded, but without any holes or loose threads. His generic, white (or rather a dirty, pale brown) tennis shoes, however, aren't so lucky. Especially the one on the left foot, with a patch of silver duct tape sealing off a rather substantial hole in the toe. The soles have become smooth and worn down and the laces frayed, but as long as they're comfortable and can repel moisture from the winter and spring rainfall, Sam keeps wearing them.

A smooth melody drifted out of the air. I perked my ears and wrinkled my nose. This was peculiar. Without saying a word, Sam raised an eyebrow and we veered from the path along the fence and headed down the highway, following the ever-constant flow of cars passing through. We continued along the main street until we found, sitting outside the old print shop next to the deli, a young man playing a stringed instrument. A large backpack was off to the side, and the instrument case laid open for passers-by to give tokens of appreciation. Once Sam discovered that this was the source of the lofty melody, he crossed the street and headed for the dilapidated park. The remaining morning dew on the long, uncut grass collected into silvery orbs on the toe of Sam's left shoe. He sat down at the faded bench, with his back to the young man, and closed his eyes. I couldn't help but be transfixed – I gazed uncontrollably over Sam's shoulder as I studied every movement of the lone musician and his bow.

The young man paused and started on another tune. Sam began to tap his fingers with each note, his head nodding with the swells of melody. The performer stumbled through a phrase, and Sam furrowed his eyebrows while his hand hesitated. After rushing through a handful of notes the song eventually fell back into step with Sam's fingers, percussing the faded wood of the bench.

An elderly couple strolled by and dropped a bill into the instrument's case. The young man smiled, and held an unusually long note while mentally tallying the contents of his collection. I tilted my head and wrinkled my nose in anticipation for the next note. Without finishing the phrase, he promptly packed up and headed into the deli. He emerged moments later with a sandwich and strode down along the highway, the numerous straps on his large backpack swaying with each step. At the intersection he turned right and headed out of town, following the usual flow of motor traffic that never seems to stop and give this once again quiet town a second thought.

So here we are, the sun has peaked and is starting its decline. Sam is repeatedly tapping out the melody to the last song, while I'm curled up on the other end of the bench enjoying the heat of a cloudless spring day. Abruptly Sam whistles once, and I scamper up his arm and onto his shoulder. He gets up, and we saunter down the highway. Upon reaching the intersection he casually surveys the options. I wrinkle my nose, and he reaches up to scratch the warm fur on my back. He turns to the right and starts off with a determined pace. I gaze down to watch the patch of duct-tape rhythmically surge in and out of view. No, we certainly haven't gone to the right before. How peculiar.

Musings for a Sunday Evening

Hrm, I don't know what to talk about today. It's coming near the end of the semester - tomorrow I'll be on my last week of classes, and then I have exams after that. I gotta stay on top of my note taking and figure the best way to start studying.

I need a haircut. My head is big and poofy. To be perfectly honest, I kind of like it - when my hair gets overgrown it starts to curl a bit. But it remains huge, halfway between an afro and a soft, completely useless helmet. But when I put a hat on, it's okay. When I take a hat off, it's not. When I try to comb it for church, it looks terrible. But I AM in art school, right? Maybe I need to consciously start poofing it out a la Bob Ross, and before long I can tie it back into a pony tail. Real artistic like. Yeah.

I watched One Week the other day. Such a good movie. I need to get me a motorbike and have an adventure. Or maybe instead I'll save for school. And a laptop. Ugh, that's a can of worms in and of itself.

I got a letter from my bank this week, congratulating me on finishing school. It even said "no more late nights and exams". Nothing but a cheery pep-talk to tell me that they're going to start charging me $13/mo in service fees now that I'm no longer a student. Sigh, how depressing. I need to call them up and assure them that I have another three years to go. Hurrah. I even went to a grad party for a friend/roommate, who had just finished her 4 years. I'm so jealous. I can't really say I'm looking forward to any of the next three years, and I wish I could just fast-forward through life until I've graduated.



I think... The problem is that in between the time of submitting my application and receiving the answer I had contemplated the possibilities of not getting accepted. I decided I'd do something substantial and have an adventure. But now I won't, I have more important things to do and commit to. I guess it's the same kinda rush of fascination you get from thinking about winning the lottery - all of the sudden the world is full of exciting possibilities. But something tells me I'm not going to shake this one so easily. I'm not looking forward to giving up gaming and movies and financial independence and reading and playing instruments and late-night walks and recreational drawing for twenty-four of the next thirty-six months. I want to enjoy my hobbies, and at some point load up a massive backpack to take with me to a country where I don't speak the language.

One can dream, I suppose. And wait.
-Cril

Stella Errans
Stella, stella, errans
Stella, stella, stella, errans

Ibœla, iriri yoda
Teberé yhoné lofiberé yoda

Stella, stella, stella, errans

Ibæla, iriri yoda
Teberé yhoné lofiberé

Cirque Du Soleil - Stella Errans

Of Monetary Concerns

So, money. I hate it. But I don't think I'll ever get away from it, so I might as address it.

I just want to start off by saying that it is so nice to have a full-sized paycheck under my belt again. It was actually a bit bigger than it otherwise would be, due to the moving and trade-show shenanigans that allowed me to get in a bit of over time. I went and deposited it at the bank, and felt on top of the world. I figured I should celebrate and go buy some junk food or a new game or something. Instead, I didn't.

You see, the whole '$70 summer' seemed like a good idea at the time, but I should've done the math prior to committing to it, and firmly decided if gifts/birthday presents for other people would apply. I'm still not sure about that last one, but I did do the (very simple) math. $70 works out to $17.50 a month. That's not even $20. It breaks down even further to a whopping fifty-eight cents a day. That's a lot less than I anticipated at the outset.

But I guess you got to follow through with the things you commit to, right? Well, I'm just over a quarter of the way through summer, and I've spent a massive $10 on myself. Which would put me below budget - yay! If I count a birthday present I bought for someone, I've eaten up the budget for the rest of the month and a bit of the next - boo. So I'm not sure what to do. I think... I'm going to aim to have all entertainment expenses for the summer below $70. If go over on account of gifts, I won't sweat it too much. Probably.

It isn't all bad news, though. Glancing over my uber spreadsheet that keeps track of every penny that comes and goes, I am damn proud to announce that I've landed in the black for every month since January. That means while I was going to school full time and working part time I made enough to cover supplies, car and living expenses. Sure this statement would be void if I counted tuition (which I paid in December) or wasn't lucky enough to be getting an incredibly awesome deal on rent. Things got ugly in March though - my most intense month for school supplies and I needed to get my radiator replaced. Luckily enough my income tax return arrived, and everything worked out. Each month was close, I didn't actually save that much, but I'm just thrilled I didn't lose money.

So now I need to look forward to second year. For eight consecutive months I'd be taking 30hrs/week of classes, probably with another 50hrs of homework. There ain't no chance I'll be able to work enough (if at all...) to prevent many big, red numbers from littering my precious spreadsheet. So I did some research, and found out the total supply and tuition costs. I reviewed the last year, and found an average for living costs. All told, eight months of schooling and non-working wcould run me about $14,625.28.

I should to decide if I need to apply for loans or not. I think... I think I'll go for broke, and empty the bank. Between my savings, selling my old car, and a small education fund my parents have for me, I think I can do it. And if I be anal about applying for scholarships and whatnot, that should help too. Can I get through half of my education without school loans? LET'S FIND OUT.

Heh, "go for broke". I guess in this context that phrase becomes uncannily appropriate and almost disturbingly literal.

Of course, the one thing I can do to knock that $15,000 figure down a few pegs is to ditch the car. It costs me $268.41 a month, and will run me $2147.28 for eight months. But you know what? I cannot give it up. Sure, I can justify it as a necessity for getting to/from class. It's more than that, though. I just got the alternator belt replaced, an oil change, and new summer tires. My car purrs (as much as a 1.8L 4-banger can), and with a full tank of gas the possibilities are endless. Quite frankly, it automatically puts me in a good mood. After getting my tuned-up car from the mechanic and feel it rev and pull so cleanly, the world immediately transformed into a better place. I love driving so, so much and I can't imagine going without it. $270 a month though... It's an expensive addiction, I can't argue that.



Anyways. It was this day in 1944 when something happened that defined 'epic', and at the cost of some 15,000 lives. Don't forget it.
-Cril

There comes a time when you swim or sink
So I jumped in the drink
'Cause I couldn't make myself clear

Maybe I wrote in invisible ink
Oh I've tried to think
How I could have made it appear

Aimee Mann - Invisable Ink