Today we performed for the class of 1954. They loved us. And then we ate a free meal. It was good.
Quote of the day: “Is this Chocolate or paper? … I still can’t tell” – Scott Perez-Fox
Click to view a quicktime movie of each dance piece. (sorry for the crappy sideview – we didn’t plan very well)
This match we won by 1 point. We played much better and although we nearly lost it in the second half, we pulled it out and handed ESU their first loss of the Spring.
There are only two photos of this game but I am #8, right in the back with my ass in the air.
I love rugby.
I always find it amazing how Penn unites for traditions such as this. I find it hard to describe in words crazy the situation truly is. Luckily I took a whole lot of photos.
Ariel went to this event so I really don’t have much to say. Casa Latina event at Penn. Ariel, Chris P, and Erik are featured.
I wasn’t crazy about the idea of having a party on a Monday night, in fact we still haven’t put the living room back together (9 days later) but it was actually sort fun.
18-year-olds are SO funny. They are so possessive in nature and bloody uptight, especially about the opposite sex.
I met a girl this night. Unless there is some cosmic series of random events, we will likely never meet again. Pity.
We lost this one. We played pretty poorly, in fact. Not going to go into great detail. Here are some photos Jay shot during the game. I am wearing #4 on this particular day.
Stayed up way too late. Still sick a week later.
Its nearly 1 am and yet I am still awake. I don’t think the two cups of instant coffee, or the fact that I napped through rugby practice, really is keeping me up, its something else. It would seem odd that I, a young, active, healthy, and relatively-stressles individual would have trouble sleeping, even for open-ended mornings where my first class was not until 11 or so. Whatever, it just something I will have to get over – force myself back into a normal sleep cycle, and maybe quite coffee before bed.
I spoke to Lyndsey Vader the other day. Figured I’d call her on her birthday, having not talked with her literally in several years. In retrospect, I dunno why I called her, we never have anything interesting to say to one another and no matter how she fains interest, she cares not for my day-to-day nor will speak with me about any of her life issues which carry any significance. The odd thing, is that I don’t really care either, and I would only speak with her on a valid emotional or intellectual level if she asked me to – which she never will.
I wish I had a really awesome memory. I wish I could memorize the whole of Hamlet and recall lines and scenes at will, just for amusement of others and to prove points and end arguments and that sort of thing. I wish I could memorize the phone number of everyone I meet or even remember the name of random people who appear for brief moments in the sequence of one-act plays I call my life. Some of them don’t even have lines, yet I remember them, most of them anyway, but rarely does the name stick. I also wish I knew Latin so I could teach my friends and then we could say things in public without worrying about others hearing us and getting offended, or butting into our conversation. Its a cool language too.
Unfortunately, books on memory and Latin cost more than I can afford and take more time to read than I can spare. One would employ the use of logic at this point and suggest I save my money, buy the books and read them during spells of insomnia. That would make sense, but in practice, not so much.
“…and in this sleep of death, what dreams may come…”
Went to Baltimore to play rugby. Didn’t play rugby. Went to smelly house of Johns Hopkins players. Watched idiots get drunk. Went in search of food. Took a few shots while walking. Ate with Rob and Chris. Drove back to Philly. Took a nap. Went Swing Dancing.
