It's never too late.

And I mean flushed in the non-bathroom sort of way

Weighing my pockets with stones of longing

Especially when those days are Saturday and Sunday.

They always come crawling back

Today is pretty good, actually! I didn't really sleep, but we also didn't really have art class today since we were just handing in our final portfolios. I got an e-mail from George Shuffelton *sigh* about my concentration, and you'll never guess... he talked to Bill North, and says: [To quote Bill, you're "such a good reader and writer and keen contemplator of the res humanae that either Alison Kettering's Art History class or Susannah Ottaway's History seminar would benefit from your presence". My feelings exactly.]

Oh boy. Crushes on professors are not cured by this sort of discourse, I swear. Speaking of such things, we filled out our course evaluations for Lit today, and I wrote of the course and instructor in general: "Wonderful. I am so sad that Scott is going to be gone all next year. The course was as intriguing as he is." So true, so true.

During Composition, Ben returned the peer edit of my business letter and responded to the question "explain your general reaction to the writing sample. were you interested by the topic?" with "Oui, Mlle, je suis tres interesse."

After La Litterature de l'Autre, I had a conference with Eva which was overall pretty good despite her brutal honesty with me about the consequences of performance anxiety in public speaking, but she also referred to me as "une petite perle" because I speak really well (apparently I only made one fault in my presentation!) and she said that she's excited about me being a TA next year. Well, I am too with this kind of encouragement, but I'm also forty thousand times more nervous after her conseils...

Last Friday Hudson told me he was having a hard time concentrating in class on Wednesday because I was wearing an Ely shirt. Also, when Azouz Begag was visiting, he was apparently paying enough attention to me to cite that in the minute during which M Begag communicated solely by way of whistling and hand gestures I managed to take a line of notes. I think this is a repeat of a bad but thrilling stage where I think that everyone is in love with me. I can't say for sure whether that parallels any personal self-confidence, maybe it's just trying to make up for my own lack. If I convince myself to see it somewhere else, maybe I'll develop it within myself, too. Then again, this kind of stuff always makes me feel egocentric and stupid. Which is kind of detrimental to that whole purpose.

Enough with the psycho babbling, alors! Did I mention our weekend in Rhinelander?? We saw the hodag!! I will put up pictures eventually. We skinny dipped (er... dunked as Sierra put it) in Squash Lake 'round midnight and it was FREEZING. We played checkers, and saw a guy masturbating to a pornographic magazine while operating a moving vehicle on the highway... We wrote a sign that said "PUT IT AWAY" the fourth time he drove past, and as he sped away we saw him laughing, which is okay because he actually did put it away. Just in case, we got his licence number. Sierra's grandma and Ward are so cute. I hope I'm fun when I'm older. And not norwegian.

What else? I have a bajillion hours of artwork to do. I'm hungry, and suzy and sierra are both gone. I am lost without my roommates! Here's what happens when they go to bed: instead of finishing my homework I compile a list of every beatles song I want to have on CD and then go about downloading all 130 of them. NOT useful during finals week.

Guess I'd better get to it then, especially if the weather's going to get worse. I have to draw outside.

Veuillez croire, messieurs, mesdames, a mes sentiments les plus respectueux.

Yours forever and ever,

Allison Claire

Love Society at 2:24 p.m.