I know. It’s getting boring. I’m bored with me. F’reals. But seriously, y’all, I DO NOT PLAN WELL.
Obviously. I’m leaving for the weekend tomorrow morning, and it’s now 12:17 AM. I am still printing off study guides, I have about fifty African art objects to flashcard (oh yes, my friends, it is a verb), and can someone please explain to me why the damn unionists camped outside Drumcree for like ten years? Because it is not helping the situation. Well, it didn’t help their’s, either. (Yet another unbelievably frustrating tableau from the files of
OH MY LORD WHY DO YOU NOT JUST CHILL THE FRICK OUT ALREADY ALL Y’ALL Northern Ireland.)
Haven’t packed. Haven’t really thought about what to pack. Clothes, I’m guessing. Meh. That will probably come later, after I finish writing about the Ibeigi figures, which is clearly much more important because what if I give birth to twins tonight and I don’t know what to do with their souls? Then what will happen, huh?
Ookay. Going to need to dial back the crazy a little bit. Forgive me. You must understand that I’m usually in bed like three hours ago.
So while I try to remember socks, some random thoughts/tales from the last few days.
– In Hebrew studies we’re watching this video that’s narrated by Liev Schrieber, which is seriously making the end of the semester much, much better. Oh, yeah. Talk some more about the Merneptah Stele, baby.
-This morning in Cold War we watched a clip of a video discussing the Angola conflict and the role of mercenaries. The bad guy (shut up, I know I’m an imperialist) was talking about this one mercenary in particular and was calling him a fantastic soldier. In fact, the had never seen a better soldier. Then it cuts to the CIA director for Africa who literally rolled his eyes and went, “Psychopath. Complete psychopath. And all of his friends were psychopaths too.” My lip was bleeding I was biting it so hard to stop from laughing.
– As you may have gathered from earlier, we’re up to 1998 and the whole peace process thing in Northern Ireland. It’s lovely, the nationalists and the unionists are hugging and whatnot, flowers blooming, Jesus is coming back, blah blah blah. Anyway. Bill Clinton had a lot to do with this. I won’t deny that. Clinton was brilliant, in fact, so brilliant that I often wondered exactly what he was smoking (not inhaling) that made him say, “No, you’re totally okay under there. Nobody’s gonna know,” and he did have a charisma that allowed him to work with people. Bully for him.
He is not, however, akin to the second coming. And I am getting a teensy weensy little bit sick of the 75-minute Clinton orgasm I have to endure every Tuesday and Thursday morning. Gah. Not the bestest President ever omg. Really. Really not.
And that’s all I’ve got. Good night.