I feel like I’m going to offend a lot of people by saying this, but violins can be really annoying, especially on really high notes. They make me feel like my head is going to shatter. The funny thing is, I never had a problem with really high-pitched sounds before — I remember in seventh grade I couldn’t tolerate really low sounds. There was this one guy in my algebra class who had this ridiculously bass voice that I couldn’t listen to without feeling a little ill, kindof like how your fingers feel when you’ve dragged your nails over a chalkboard, except everywhere. Is this normal or am I just really sensitive to sound?

I think I’ve been having weird John Dorian-esque daydreams for a while now, and as fun as they are, they kind of put a damper on productivity. I was just reading my real analysis book in Marquand when I caught myself staring out the window and thinking about talking lasagnas and what the journals on the bookshelf would be saying to each other if they were actually silently talking to each other. (By the way, I did get plenty of sleep last night.)

A while ago, when I first revamped the site with Wordpress, I remember being sure that I didn’t want to make this blog all about sadness and whining and ranting, (and I still don’t want that!) It just occurred to me, however, that I probably don’t want it to be about my randomly telling people that “MY LIFE IS WONDERFUL *GINORMOUS SMILEY *”

:) So anyhow… I also made a post in the pre-Wordpress days (which has as of now disappeared because of various importing problems) on class and entering academia. Paul Fussell also has some interesting insights, which he wrote in this book; my German professor recommended it to my friend, who recommended it to me. It is an admirable project, despite its various shortcomings. According to Fussell, he is (somewhat) uniquely qualified to commentate on the provocative subject of class, as he is a member of the American non-class — a Class X which due to its bohemian, academic, artsy nature has escaped the class system entirely. Clearly, as Fussell develops a picture of the classes in America, he has his own ideas about where Class X belongs in the metaphysical hierarchy. Moreover, it is also ironically clear what class Fussell himself hails from, previous to his “Class X” days. All in all, an entertaining read.