Well, I was feeling better until Sister Girl got her bitch on. Although there is something inherently funny about hearing someone scream, "THAT'S NOT THE FUCKING KIND OF MIDOL I WANTED!" from the room next door.
Rewind. I didn't even think about this, because I'm a doof, but this is the first class I've taken after four months of being off--just long enough to get all wiggy about it. I mean, I know we all fear the unknown, but I have an almost pathological fear of new situations. It's seriously worse than it has any right to be, and it's ridiculous. So here I am: I'm not even sure which building the class is in, where the room in that building is, who the professor is (the name is unfamiliar), or who's going to be in the class. Lest you think I'm overstating the case, I actually had one first day of class blow up in my face due to a mix-up and ended up kicked out of it. (Granted, I'm pretty tight with the professor now and everything's been smoothed over, no problems, etc., but at the time it was fairly disheartening.)
So I get to the Educational Building. Never been in it before (well, more on that later). It looks weirdly familiar and yet not, and there's a crush of people going both ways and it's hard to get through and the hall wraps around and WHERE IS 128 OMG OMG OMG? So eventually I find it, and guess who I see through the little window in the door? Gay Boyfriend Clifton! Yay! So it turns out to be a very small class mostly full of people I know, and one girl who's completely new but struck up a conversation with me outside the door, so I sort of feel like I know her. The professor is awesome and chatty and goes through a large swath of English history, starting with the Tudors (which as you know I am all up in) and through to Cromwell, because Milton was Cromwell's Latin secretary/PR guy/apologist/whatever. We have the Riverside Milton and, humorously, the Companion to Milton, like a little seeing-eye dog beside it. And the class is only a little over an hour long, and none of the written work is due until October, which as you know is Deadline Day (10/1) for me, so that's good. In fact, the first day of class is usually the only day I really worry about. I don't know why--I mean, I worry about presentations and final papers, but I never really fear for my grade, because--well, I'm capable of doing the work, so there it is. In short: It was awesome.
However, cleolinda.blogspot.com won't work, and this pisses me off. There's an awesome post about why I think War of the Worlds, Spielberg's self-proclaimed attempt to create the biggest-budgeted, biggest movie of all time, is going to suck, and Blogger won't post it. Fnarr. (I mean, War of the Worlds? WHY? Wasn't the selling point of the original radio play adaptation that no one knew what was going on? Like, you could totally do this on TV, although I think it would be cruel and ill-advised, but you could do it.) So basically, minus the novelty element, the element of giving random members of the populace fatal heart attacks, you're left with... Independence Day. WHY?
Also, I wanted to post something about how Ain't It Cool News has a thing up about the new Jurassic Park 4 script being cracked out. John Sayles wrote it and it is craaaaacked ouuuuut. Like, so cracked out that I would actually go and see it. Cracked. Out.
(Of course, the way there's this huge build-up in the article about its crackitude, I was fully expecting a lot more weirdness than was actually delivered. Seriously, don't ever leave me to imagine the worst in any situation, because I'm really, really good at it. I had this vision of, like, Jurassic Park as the bastard hatespawn of David Lynch and Philip K. Dick. Maybe some George Lucas thrown in for extra crack. We go back to Jurassic Park! But it's on another planet! Where Laura Dern plays a blonde and a brunette! And the dinosaurs take over and pit midgets against men in giant arenas! One of them is the Jarjarbinksasaur! We must stop them from reaching Earth! BUT WE WERE ON EARTH ALL ALONG! Silencio.)
But I can't post, because Blogspot hates me. Thanks.
Oh, I totally forgot to follow up on that bit about the Educational Building seeming weirdly familiar. I didn't realize it until my mother reminded me, but that's the building I used to go ever year for the Young Authors conference. And they mean very young--I'd say kindergarten through maybe fourth or fifth grade? And while the building has super-glossy modern vending machines as you come in, something about the lowness and the dimness and the darkness of the carpet reminded me of something, and the railing on the right--it's because I remembered it from all that time ago. In fact, I think the room back there that I have Milton in may have been one of the rooms we used all that time ago. (The first story I ever took, in first grade, was about earthworms. Oh, and we'd made little books bound with cardboard and contact paper, and mine was about the little gremlin-esque creatures I was convinced lived in our giant forsythia. Even then I was hitting the crack, apparently.)