Sunday, February 24, 2008

because i love high fidelity...

1) Music coordinator for film and television, Los Angeles
I am not even joking, this is an actual job: creating soundtracks for movies and TV. I'd spend part of the day negotiating with record companies for broadcast rights, the other part of the day listening to the scads of free CDs I've received in the mail from up-and-coming bands, and every night go to a concert. I'm still in awe of the fact that people get paid for this.

2) Actress, National Theatre, London (the RSC or the West End would be all right too; I'm including them in this category.)
Okay, so the American accent might be a problem. But I'm thinking that once I broke into the scene, myriads of playwrights would begin writing in the role of the quirky American girl into their shows so that I could be in them. Or else someone would just teach me to pull off British.

3) Casting director, National Theatre, London
I would get to go see plays and showcases every night, probably with killer seats, for the sole purpose of scoping out talent so that I could recommend people to directors and help with their casting choices.

4) Entertainment journalist, Paste magazine. (Rolling Stone would be fine as well. Really, I'm not picky.)
I'd review music, books, movies, etc., which means I'd get a bunch of them for free, and force share my opinions and favorites with the world. So basically-- getting paid for what I do already.

5) Pediatric endocrinologist
Treating kids with hormonal disorders-- diabetes, growth hormone deficiency, thyroid problems, etc.

Monday, February 11, 2008

Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning when I wake up, I think, "Maybe today Physics 102 will have some sort of relevance or application to my life." And every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday morning at 9:15 my hopes are once again crushed against the classroom floor. Today, in the ten-minute working by my professor of a problem involving one entire blackboard, countless variables and unthinkably small numbers, and something about the number of electrons passing through a copper wire, I couldn't help but stare in amazement at the sheer ridiculousness (is that a word?) of the problem. I almost started laughing when he brought in the concept of the "mole," something that I thought I had gladly left behind in my days of general chemistry. Meanwhile, my professor's rapidly increasing energy level (no doubt due to his daily caffeine intake of one Diet Coke with Lime per class period) is causing the decibel level of his voice to rise to approximately the level of an excited Baptist preacher. (There's a reason why churches are built bigger than science classrooms.) And let me assure you, hellfire and damnation are much more interesting than electron-volts.

Anyway, I've begun to perfect my "fascinated/studious/I'm-absorbing-every-word-you-say" face, while in reality I am wishing I was anywhere but sitting in an uncomfortable chair, pretending to fastidiously copy down every exponent and every unit of measurement, when in reality I am actually watching the second hand on my watch tick, which I'm pretty sure slows down as soon as I walk into that classroom. Maybe that's the physics problem we should be solving -- how the department has created a time-warp state that makes every class feel like it lasts three hours.

I'm really not like this in all my classes. I promise.

Wednesday, February 6, 2008

Sometimes the numbers say it all.

42: Number of minutes before my first class I woke up this morning. (That number gets smaller every day.)

3: Number of different VeggieTales ties my physics professor has worn so far this semester. Today it was the Pirates Who Don't Do Anything, Monday it was Christmas themed (yes, in February) and the first day of school I believe it was a French Peas motif.

3: Average number of episodes of House M.D. referenced by Dr. Hunsinger in any given pathology class.

14: Average number of times I forget to pay attention in any given pathology class.

40: Estimated percentage of Samford that is currently sick with the flu.

11: Number of dollars I spent on echinacea and Airborne yesterday in order to avoid contracting the flu.

8: Number of days ago that I ordered all of my textbooks. (Not one has come in yet.)

10: Approximate number of copies of Medea contained in Samford's library.

2: Number of copies of Medea in Samford's library that are in English.

1: Number of copies of Medea in Samford's library that is in English and is not written on heavily in blue ink on every single page.

366: Number of Shakespearean insults I paid for when I bought my page-a-day calendar at the Globe Theatre.

314: Number of Shakespearan insults actually contained in the aforementioned page-a-day calendar; those sneaks put every Saturday and Sunday sharing the same page and therefore sharing the same insult.

10: Number of times today I have wished I was still in London.