Exit, Pursued by a Bear

I don't know where the stereotype of non-physically active nerds came from, but I really don't think it's true.

For example, I am a nerd.

To an extent.

And I exercise(d).

I mean, I still do, I just haven't in a while for various reasons, among them being shin splints, a cough that won't go away and messes up my pace, and college.

But, as an English major, I don't see why this is.

I mean, one of the greatest physical chase scenes in history was written by Shakespeare:

"Exit, pursued by a bear."

Now, I will be the first to admit that we don't always approach exercise the right way.

Or at least, I don't.

Ever heard of that 10% rule? How you're not supposed to increase your mileage by more than 10% per week?

Well, I basically lived by the 100% rule for about 2 and a half hours once.

5 miles to about 10.5.

Not the brightest thing I've ever done.

But regarding the nerdiness. . .

So I was running down this road that was way longer than I expected it be, and then I realized that it was the longest side of right triangle. The Pythagorean Theorem popped into my mind and I started sorting it out.

As I was running.

As if the cars weren't enough to worry about. . .

Field Trip!

Yesterday, one of my professors took us up to Columbia to go see Antony and Cleopatra performed by some players from Cambridge University.
It. Was. Fantastic!!
It was also a blast because our professor gave us a tour of Columbia - like where he lived and stuff like that.
We ended up going to a Mexican place afterwards (that play was 3 hours long!) and laughed about just about everything - not about the performance; the performance was impeccable.
If y'all ever have a chance to see the touring Cambridge University Players, you should.
And next time we go up there, we need to go to the zoo.
I haven't been to the zoo in ages. . .

My Valentine's Day . . . Thing

I'm calling this "From Paris, with Love"
(Yes, I have an obsession with 'Romeo and Juliet'. And no, Romeo is not the ultimate guy. That other guy is. And if you want to see the Paris I'm talking about, watch the 1936 version of "Romeo and Juliet". Much less awkward than the newer ones.)

The Capulet Mausoleum.
Near mid-night.

His footsteps were of an unsteady tempo, but they matched the beat that made sore his ribs, that throbbed in his skull. The darkness of the moonless night was compounded by his moist blindness. He fell, tasted blood, spat behind him.
His pain, his frenzy, the blood: they all reminded him he was alive.
He didn't desire to be alive.
He desired Juliet, the innocent, glowing flower he'd danced with at the masquerade.
And Juliet lie dead, just beyond the cold, stone door before him.
He held the torch before him, the flame bouncing wildly, and - as he heaved the door open - it cast unnatural shadows within the crypt.
The flame was reflected by the silk that his bride had been cocooned in.
His fingers numbed and he heard the torch fall.
He collapsed at her side, gathering her into his arms.
"Juliet . . ."
His tears splattered on the girl's face. It looked as if they were her own.
"If I could give my life for thine, I would fain commence the exchange," he whispered, stroking her hair.
He imagined a waking sigh, and buried his face in her chocolate locks, drinking in the scent of lavender and vanilla.
"I know I had not your love. I know the young Montague has stolen your heart."
He forced down the bile that choked him, his face stinging with passion.
"But . . . if your heart desired him . . . I would . . . gladly . . . yielded."
A small void cooled his cheek. His numb hand registered movement within her, and he watched - stupefied - as Juliet's eyelids opened, revealing crystalline azure eyes.

. . . TO BE CONTINUED.

RIP Bucky . . . the Furry Mūs

So today in fiction class, Zack had us write three into sentences to this plot:

"A girl about 11-12 years old finds an injured squirrel and cares for it for a year, until her parents decide it's too dangerous to be kept in the house. They make her get rid of it. She takes it to the park where she often took it to play. She watched it scamper off, but left before it came back."

Oh. My. Gosh.
I says, "That's sad; I don't wanna write about that." But - as this epic author often states - "I said it in my head, so nobody heard it but me". I wrote the three he asked for and then - y'all are gonna hate me  for this - but I um, well . . . I sort of killed it. I implied it was probably dead. Squashed. In the road. Uh, yeah.

However!
In "Development of the English Language", we read words in Old English.
Now THAT was fun!
And no, Old English is not Shakespeare. He may be difficult for you to understand, but he actually wrote in Modern English. Modern as in "what we speak now". Yep.

THIS is Old English.

And that is "Beowulf". Epic. Story. You must read it before you die. You must.
(For those who are unaware.)
[Also, mūs up there is Old English for um, well, mouse. It's pretty neat, actually.]

FINISH LIKE A BOSS

So, my final final was at 8 AM.
I am not a morning person, so this did not thrill me.
My professor said we should all get "amped up", so I drove there listening to this:

We have two and a half hours allotted for our finals at USCB.
This was a Late Shakespeare final.
(Yes, I signed up and paid for that. I actually loved it.)
The final was half multiple choice, and half essay.
I finished the multiple choice in (less than or equal to) 30 minutes.
The other hour and a half was devoted to the essay.
2 pages.
Front and back.
Yep.
I was the third to leave out of maybe 20 of us.
On the way home, I listened to this:

Got my course grade back today.
An "A".
Thank you Jesus and boo-yah!

I *really* want to write a post for Sparklife . . .

(For those of you who aren't aware of Sparklife, it's simply a branch of Sparknotes. [If you're not aware of Sparknotes, I pity you.])
Let's get this out of the way first:
- Yes, I am an English major.
- Yes, we read old books. (They smell the best; duh.)
- And, yes, I do occasionally use Sparknotes.
Not as a replacement to the books.
Never.
That is not a good idea.
More as a "this-is-what-I-think-I-read->reads-Sparknotes<-okay-yes-this-is-what-I-read" type thing.
It's quite helpful, except for when Ben Jonson's "Bartholomew Fair" isn't there . . .
Anyways.
I really, really, really want to write a post for Sparklife.
Their posts are quite hilarious.
I can be quite hilarious too.
And I love to write.
I'm thinking about doing a "How to Decode Your Professor" type thing.
What do you think?
Comment below!

Fish'N'Chips and Shakespeare

I had a rather interesting day today.
This morning, we talked about Shakespeare.
More specifically, we discussed Shakespeare's use of fish and sheep.
Mostly fish.
Mainly about how Caliban in The Tempest was called a fish and the significance of that.
Um, pardon me, but I think the significance was this: 1 - Caliban was deformed. 2 - He lived on an island, so he probably smelled like . . . fish.
End of story.
Well, it must have stuck in my brain, because I had fish and chips for lunch.

It was actually quite good for cafeteria fish.
In another class, we took a quiz.
15 questions.
After that, she let us leave.
Can you say "win"?
After that - in another class, naturally - we discussed the Pamplona Run of the Bulls.
. . .
I think I'm scratching that off my 'bucket list' . . .
. . . Or at least move it to the end . . .

Fire Alarms and Beverage Ops

Not to be confused with "Black Ops", which I'm sure is more interesting.

Okay, I'll be honest: I haven't done a fire drill since I was about 7. I only remember that you're not supposed to panic. I had the perfect opportunity to put that to use today.
I was packing up my Shakespeare papers and notebooks - not my actual textbook, though; that 20-pounder won't fit in my giant backpack. Suddenly, there was this high-pitched . . . I dunno, beep / siren type sound and this light started flashing. At first, we were all quite confused, because our professor didn't think there was a drill scheduled for today, but when we saw everyone else going for the stairs, we figured it was probably a good idea to go, too.
The good news is nobody panicked - we calmly stampeded downstairs.
The bad news is that all 200 of us stood outside in the suffocating humidity, holding all of our junk for about 10 minutes wondering if it was a drill, a joke, or the real thing. We were bored. Really bored. 
Finally, some guy came out and told us we could go back in.
No explanation.
Nothing.

Later this afternoon, we learned about beverages of the potentially belligerent nature. You name it, it was mentioned.
I must say now that I don't drink. Most of my friends don't drink. I sat there with this blank stare for 15 minutes before we were done. The professor then proceeded to tell us about all the different ways a bartender could rip off his boss.
It was really interesting.

So, yes, my day was anti-climatic. 

First day of school!

Soooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo . . .

Today was the first day of school!

I worked full time this summer, and realized that it's going to be very strange to not be working all the time . . . Yes, it will be very strange indeed . . .

Anyhoo, the day went by really well! I just wish I'd known I didn't have to bring that 20 pound Shakespeare anthology to class . . . everything would have been much lighter.

I met with two other friends for lunch, and that was fun! (If one of you is reading this, we're on for next week!) Luckily, there is somebody I know in all of my classes, except for perhaps the one I have once a week.

But whatever.

I'm just grateful I was able to go back this year. I just pray that I do well! XD

Geeky Weekend / "Twelfth Night"

So, me and my dad were left alone at home for the weekend . . . WIN! We had a blast! Hilton Head Friday night, and Barnes and Noble! Got back from Savannah and Books-A-Million at like midnight, and I had to finish up some laundry with some Kingdom Hearts: 358/2 Days on the side, whilst waiting for the stupid dryer to be done with my pj's . . .
And today, I've got to see Shakespeare's "Twelfth Night" down at the Waterfront Park . . . and then write a 3 page review for English.
o.0
Ooooooooooooh, boy . . . .