So, for Japanese class, our final project is a puppet show. Yes, a puppet show. We had to write it, make puppets, and perform it in class. Since there are only three of us in fourth year this semester, Sensei had us all work together. This ... made things a good deal more complicated, but oh well. Since I had to type up the script anyway, I thought I would share it for your pleasure and/or derision (with bonus, made-up-on-the-spot English translation and snark in []s). Notes: Three writers on one script is too many at once -- conflicts arose; there's only so much you can do in 4.5 pages (that's hand-written, every other line); the Japanese levels of those in my group varied wildly, and although it sounds horribly snotty, I think my skills are sturdiest (not to say "good"), but remember, it was all three of us writing the script; so in short, yeah, this is pretty elementary Japanese (we use the same basic phrases over and over and over) and I'm blaming it on everyone else ^_^ I'm not looking for crit, just ... hoping you might get a giggle over it. And remember, this is a *puppet show*
友だちの旅行 )
Been doing some writing ... click here for my review of the otome game Yo-Jin-Bo (now with even more picspam!), and/or head over to Sukoshi no Kotoba, where I have just posted the first part of the story I've been working on most recently. You know, the one I wanted to finish before I posted any of it? Well, um, yeah, it's far from finished, but I posted anyway because I'm a dork. And, as my near-preface will describe, I don't like it much. At least, not the part I've posted ... o.o I feel kind of ashamed of it. Anyway O.o

New things I've learned in my classes:

-John Donne is amazing. 17th century poetry? Not so bad as I thought.

-Nathaniel Hawthorne likes the word "ignominy." I haven't been counting, but I'm sure he's used it in The Scarlet Letter at least 20 times by now.

-Japanese kanji are a lot harder to write than I ever dreamed. Yes, I've been learning kanji for the last two years, but it was all WRONG. (I'm exaggerating of course ... but not completely.)

-"Do [my note: NOT do] a little wrong to do a great right." -Bassanio, The Merchant of Venice

-"logorrhea" is a language disability which might as well be called "verbal diarrhea."

-"coprolalia" is a language disability in which a person is incapable of controlling their filthy language. "Coprolite," on the other hand, is fossilized dung.
mossygirl: (Default)
( Sep. 12th, 2007 21:27)
(Disjointed, nonsensical, stream of consciousness post ahead)

Looking back on old posts, as I do sometimes when I find myself inexplicably glued to the computer at odd times of night when I should be sleeping, I am amazed by my former ability to be concise and make up a short entry about just one topic.

Then again, that was when I was in high school, and everyone reading this journal saw me every day, so there was no need for long, rambling posts about what was new in my life.
When I was much younger, half my lifetime ago, I would grasp onto any emotion that I felt -- anger, sadness, etc. -- and hold on to it tightly, pulling it closer even as it began to fade, kindling the flames again until they finally burned out for good. Now, I wonder why I did that, and still do it when it comes to certain emotions.

That doesn't have to do with anything ... but I do think I'm the type of person who dwells on things. And isn't that a funny thing to say, when you really analyze it? A dwelling is one's home. I make my home on "things."

Depending on what those things are, this is true. When my mind grabs hold of something, a particular compelling thought, for example, it refuses to let go. It makes its home there, tainting every subsequent thought with that first one, which grows into chains of reasoning, daydreams, thought bubbles floating through my head.

All very curious.

I wish, sometimes, that I could let go.

Because, sometimes, it drives me crazy.
It has been quite the night.

This particular weekend is notable to Calvin students because it is the first weekend after the beginning of classes, and it is also the weekend of the "Celebration on the Grand." The Grand is a river running through the city of Grand Rapids; even my roommate, a native Grand Rapidian, cannot tell me what exactly we are celebrating, but there are food stands and live music and such. Most importantly, there are fireworks. The city of Grand Rapids closes off several streets for this event, including Pearl St. bridge, which goes, of course, over the Grand River and provides a spectacular view of said fireworks. Thus, Pearl St. bridge, at about seven thirty or eight-ish, fills up with a mass of humanity--a large number of them being Calvin students--milling about, chatting, and lounging on blankets to kill time until the 9:30 p.m. fireworks display. My roommate and I found ourselves enjoying the last of these activities, relaxing on her high school blanket as people surged around us, waiting for the fireworks.

We got a fireworks show, oh, yes. But it was hardly the one we expected.

The Fireworks of God )

(As for the rest of the week? Too many classes and activities, honestly. I felt terribly busy. Perhaps I shall write more of this later.)
For all intents and purposes, today has not been a good day.
My cat, Shelby, is not feeling well. )


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