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Sleep is a good thing. Sleep is a very good thing. I am
stunningly aware of this right now, mostly because I didn't get enough
of it this weekend. It's unfair; this was the first weekend in recent
memory that I only had two things (dim sum and running a Hatching --
yes, I still play PernMUSH. You may mock me now.) scheduled, and I
still didn't manage to sleep late.
It was a nice weekend, though, as weekends go. I wasted inordinate
amounts of time watching music videos (we finished the Top 100 of 1985)
and spent too much money at Borders again. My good intentions don't
seem to last very long when faced with books & music I want. I ended
up getting a copy of Chess
(thank you, Jeremy), and the Diane Wynne Jones novella written at
Boskone (the name of which I don't remember, but I have copy 376), and
the huge (and expensive) book documenting the production of Jonathan
Larson's _Rent_. I suppose I should also mention the CBC radio
production of Macbeth, which falls somewhere between books and music.
To round it all out I picked up a math book, which will hopefully be
useful when I take my SATs again this fall.
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1985 was apparently the formative year in music and movies not only for
myself but also for most of my friends. This became clear when, after
watching the Top 100 Music Videos of 1985, we discovered that the tape
also had the last fifteen from the Top 100 of 1986. We settled in to
watch them... and quickly realised that 1986 was a completely different
universe than 1985.
Case in point: The last thirty or so videos of 1985 were all songs
everyone in the room recognised. Numbers 15 through 9 of 1986 had only
we song we recognised -- and that was Invisible Touch, which was 9.
So what gives? Why 1985? It's not like we're all the same age...
there was an eleven year age span between the oldest person in the room
and the youngest. Was 1985 really just the best year for 80's
music?
Such important things I think about.
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I just got email from Earl, explaining how he got up at 5:30 and came
up with an interesting story idea, then went back to sleep. It's
so unfair; I get up around 7:30 only by sheer force of will,
and I can't even start being productive until about 9:30. Where does
he get all this energy? Is being in grad school really that
relaxing?
Speaking of school ... tomorrow is Phone Day. I have an appointment at
9:55 to get my head examined (well, sort of) and then afterwards I plan
to call the admissions offices of all the schools I'm interested in and
find out precisely what my status is. Once I know how doomed I am I
can decide what I'm doing this summer. If I quit taking classes now
I'll have no college credit and might be able to enter as a frosh. And
I'll have more free time ... but I'm not sure I _want_ to stop taking
classes now. Decisions, decisions.
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