![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Mar. 4th, 2003 10:10 amI keep starting an update, and getting sidetracked. It's gotten to the ridiculously silly point, but I shall sit down and update now, solely because I should be writing the paper I skipped work to finish.
On that note, I really wonder what my boss thinks of me. Library workers, by and large seem to be quiet and shy and never miss a day with out at least a weeks warning. I on the other hand, miss at least one day a week, am perpetually late, and *gasp* bring my homework with me. I like working with old books that smell like dusty chocolate and stale corn tortillas, but there are times when I feel highly irresponsible just for existing. Work isn't high on my list of priorities, and I think I haven't learned how to disguise this like other people have.
I have an odd sort of relationship with movies. I like weird old films, obscure foreign things (which reminds me, I have to track down Bandits) and indy diatribes on existence. I like them, but at the same time, most of the movies I love leave me feeling a little empty, angry, confused, or just disillusioned. One of those is how I feel about Igby Goes Down. Don't ask me which, I'm not sure myself. (For the record, the second time I saw it, I could actually watch it as a comedy.)
To the point! I noticed this boy running around campus at the beginning of the semester. He's tall, but walks with this "please don't hit me" hunch in his shoulders, and a sprawling sort of ambling walk. He's got one of those faces that makes me do a double take every time I see him, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. Now, every time I see him, I'm going to burst into tears, which is going to be more than a little discombobulating for him. This boy looks like Igby. (I make a distinction between the actor and the character, because I'm an actress myself, and it annoys me when people don't.) The haircut, the posture, the eyes, this boy has the same frigging nose as Igby, and it's too weird for words. If I manage to steal my room mates camera, and play stalker for a while I might be able to capture his doppelganger image on film, and you can judge for yourself.
I managed to wheedle a copy of Tam Lin from a friend. Having just finished it this morning, I say with a perfectly straight face that I need to read it another few times before I have any sort of coherent opinion. Well, beyond that I am highly glad that I'm not going to Macalester right now, because I'd be looking for ghosts around every corner. I am going to need my own copy of this now. *sigh* Another obscure out of print thing to track down.
I hate it when books break your heart, and end. It seems very unjust of them.
On that note, I really wonder what my boss thinks of me. Library workers, by and large seem to be quiet and shy and never miss a day with out at least a weeks warning. I on the other hand, miss at least one day a week, am perpetually late, and *gasp* bring my homework with me. I like working with old books that smell like dusty chocolate and stale corn tortillas, but there are times when I feel highly irresponsible just for existing. Work isn't high on my list of priorities, and I think I haven't learned how to disguise this like other people have.
I have an odd sort of relationship with movies. I like weird old films, obscure foreign things (which reminds me, I have to track down Bandits) and indy diatribes on existence. I like them, but at the same time, most of the movies I love leave me feeling a little empty, angry, confused, or just disillusioned. One of those is how I feel about Igby Goes Down. Don't ask me which, I'm not sure myself. (For the record, the second time I saw it, I could actually watch it as a comedy.)
To the point! I noticed this boy running around campus at the beginning of the semester. He's tall, but walks with this "please don't hit me" hunch in his shoulders, and a sprawling sort of ambling walk. He's got one of those faces that makes me do a double take every time I see him, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why. Now, every time I see him, I'm going to burst into tears, which is going to be more than a little discombobulating for him. This boy looks like Igby. (I make a distinction between the actor and the character, because I'm an actress myself, and it annoys me when people don't.) The haircut, the posture, the eyes, this boy has the same frigging nose as Igby, and it's too weird for words. If I manage to steal my room mates camera, and play stalker for a while I might be able to capture his doppelganger image on film, and you can judge for yourself.
I managed to wheedle a copy of Tam Lin from a friend. Having just finished it this morning, I say with a perfectly straight face that I need to read it another few times before I have any sort of coherent opinion. Well, beyond that I am highly glad that I'm not going to Macalester right now, because I'd be looking for ghosts around every corner. I am going to need my own copy of this now. *sigh* Another obscure out of print thing to track down.
I hate it when books break your heart, and end. It seems very unjust of them.
