Now that everyone has discovered my stupid webpage they're all making fun of me, especially Heidi. She knows who she is. She knows I'll get her back.
I'm working on my About Face Theatre application essay. I WANT THEM TO GIVE ME A JOB. Only 2.5 hrs. until Jimmy's.
I finally realized what happened to me. I've hit that part of the quarter where I don't want to do ANYTHING. It's the totally midwinter sort-of freak out that isn't totally evident. It just kind of sneaks up on you.
Of course it doesn't help that I'm feeling kind of sick and, as a result, am always tired. I was going to try and get some sleep last night but I went to Jimmy's instead because I felt like I needed it. And then Vito bought me a drink, so I only paid for one. I saw my favorite (cutest) student in the Committee on Social Thought there.
I'm getting so, so excited for my trip. I talked to Deborah's parents and my friend Sophie (both of whom I'm going to stay with). Deborah's mom wants me to go to the Met on her dollar, talked to me about loaning me an extra key, etc., etc. It's going to be awesome. Sophie and her gay Czech roommate and I are going to go out on Saturday night. I'm so, so, so excited. But I probably won't be able to post while I'm there, so if you don't hear from me (for like all four of you who read this, don't assume I died). Just assume I'm drunk-ass and fuckin' some hos.
What books should I read (non-school-related) on my trip? Let me know...email me at jrquinn at uchicago dot edu.
Met with Jonathan Lear today again. He cut me down as usual, but not as severely as he has been. He's helped me guide myself to a more focused approach, and since I don't think I'm smart enough (or have the time), I'm going to ask, simply, "Is Ivan Karamazov guilty as Smerdyakov charges?"
Monday, January 27, 2003
I am SO unmotivated to do my homework, and way too intimidated to start on my Metcalfe essays. Goddamit if I don't get one I don't know what I'll do. So I've decided to try and describe Carol's.
First, its ethos (big, $15 U of C word) is best captured by the following quote from Ann Marie shortly after our arrival, said while listening to a country band: "One day I want to be in a totally nonironic country band."
Second, it seemed to be filled half with people who truly, truly, honestly believed in this kind of music and lifestyle and those who appreciated it for its kitsch value. I have to say that I was probably in the latter category but I didn't want to be completely insulting to those who took it seriously by "blaspheming" their lifestyle. But some of those who took it seriously did kind of scare me, did kind of feel like someone dropped a shack full of my part of Florida in the middle of trendy Uptown. I did, although not so surprising upon reflection, see several U of C-affiliated people there (that I knew only from bars in Hyde Park). Lots of Valentine-themed tinsel hanging from the ceiling.
Just reading Heloise's letter to Abelard makes me sad about the impossibility of love. And then thinking about the young man who committed suicide late last quarter makes me feel sad as well.
Also...today I went to Kimbark Plaza to do several weeks of laundry. It was soo, soo good except my bag was soo, soo heavy and the really mean old guy who works there kept giving me (what I think were) dirty-ish looks. But then I got takeout from Leona's and sat at home flipping back and forth between John Mearshimer on WTTW and Seventh Heaven on the WB.
Talked to my sister yesterday. It was good to talk to her. We're such great budding alcoholic siblings.
In my relentless and sad blog-cruising, I have come across this. He's kind of cute, no?
Apparently Sarah gave Joe Millionaire a blow job tonight on the show and I missed it.
Sunday, January 26, 2003
I am leaving for New York City on Thursday morning. I am going, for those of you who don't know, for the hell of it.
Here are some things I think I need to do while I'm there:
go to the Strand and buy something to read (because I don't think I'm going to take any school work)
see either La Boheme, Uncle Vanya/Twelfth Night, or Metamorphosis
find a cool coffee shop where I can sit and read and smoke
ibid, for a bar and where I can check people out
walk through Central Park
find a good diner where I can sit and read and smoke
get some really bitchin' coffee to bring back and drink
Anything else? Email me: jrquinn at uchicago dot edu if you have suggestions
Where I'm staying:
Thursday- Deborah's parents
Friday- Dave's parents
Sunday- my aunt and my uncle on Long Island
I can't tell if I'm hungry or not. I drank for more than twelve hours yesterday (started at 5:30 PM and ended at about 6:30 AM) and I was up for about 21 hours. I am more hungover now than I have been for quite some time. Sleep would be ideal, but I have to be at work until midnight (although I probably can steal a nap up at UT). I am starting to think that I'm hungry, but I'm afraid to put anything aside from water in my already very uneasy stomach.
What did I do?
Well, after Clean-Up/Project Day at UT, Ann Marie and I drove to the 47th St. Co-op in Christine's car. We bought supplies for the dinner party and went back to her place and cleaned. Then we showered, she started cooking, and I played host when people started to arrive. Between the at least twenty people who were there, we drank 8 bottles of wine and a lot of vodka. Then Ann Marie and I went to Jimmy's for a pre-cast meets cast party drink and to visit with Lincoln who was bartending.
We left for the party, promising to come back to the bar before closing for one or two more drinks. When we arrived Deborah's place was fucking packed. And there were a lot of people I didn't recognize and several of my straight male friends were drunk enough to start grabbing my ass, which made me scream "WHY IS EVERYONE GRABBING MY ASS?" which either led to people giving me really weird looks or grabbing my ass more. I was there for probably only a half hour (but enough time to be revolted by the sight of my roommate with his face practically inside his girlfriend's mouth in the living room where like twenty people were sitting close by). The cops came. This was the second time, and the party was over. So Ann Marie and I went back to Jimmy's and drank until the bar closed.
But I did finally get to meet Andy at the party. And I apologize to him if I was ridiculously incomprehensibly drunk.
Saturday, January 25, 2003
UT Clean Up/Project Day is going on right now, so I am, as usual, posting from the Reynolds Club.
Last night was quite possibly one of the most amazing nights ever. I met my friend Christine for a drink at Jimmy's, which ended up lasting from 5 to about 9:30. Ann Marie stopped by because she was feeling kind of down and we decided to go see Too Much Light at the Neo-Futurarium with Mike. And Christine let me borrow her car, which was AMAZING. Mike was going to meet us up there, so Ann Marie and I went to the cigarette store (Kimbark Liquors) and, Kylie blasting, bounced on up to the North Side (I didn't drive drunk, though. I only had two beers at Jimmy's). We had a drink at the Hopleaf around the corner and I drank a pint of this drink called "Duchesse de Bourgougne," which tasted kind of like a wine/beer hybrid. Then we went to see the show and I got a red token so I didn't have to pay and the show was AWESOME.
Afterwards Mike and Ann Marie and I went to Carol's to watch people dance to country music. And there was this group there celebrating a birthday and they did like five shots of Alabama Slammer and two of them were so skinny and danced bowlegged around and it was hilarious. After Carol's we went to the White Palace Grill and didn't get back until 4 in the morning. And then Ann Marie and I had to wake up at like 9 AM to get here on time.
It's hard to describe in words how amazing Carol's was, but I'll try in a later post.
On Thursday night I was supposed to call my sister. I forgot. So when I got home at 2 in the morning (3 AM Eastern Standard) I called her cell phone. She didn't, thank God, pick up, but I left her the most drunken-slurred voice message ever.
Maybe Joe and Christopher will read this and COME TO THE COVE AT 11:30.
HAHA! My power is unending. I finally convinced Sara to start a weblog. Now NONE of us will get any work done, ever.
Only two hours until the COVE! Anyone who wants to join me should. I'll be there at 11:30.
CAPS, which usually sucks, is posting an internship opportunity with About Face Theatre, Chicago's premier queer theater company. I did a profile of their youth program for my Arts in Ed class last quarter. It's a great, great, great program and I really, really want that job. I figured it's probably a better idea to stay in Chicago and be rich (okay, it's only $4000, but it's more than nothing). If I get the internships, I'm definitely going to stay here. But we'll see.
Oh, and today is Thursday. It's also REALLY FUCKING COLD OUT.
In one week I'll be walking the streets of Manhattan!
Wednesday, January 22, 2003 Sara is famous. I just watched her on Nightline. She did great!
Oh, and grant writing, while it sucks, is kind of fun. I'm writing an application for the University Community Service Center's Community Service Fund for Mentorship, one of my programs here at UT. It's a pain in the ass because you have to think. But it's good because it forces me to justify what is so good about our programs that we should get money for them.
I know you're watching, Andy. Don't worry, the Gay Mafia is watching you, too.
My meeting with Jonathan Lear, the John U. Nef Distinguished Service Professor in the Committee on Social Thought and The College, did not happen today. I went to meet with him after Lolita class and he said that he had to leave and couldn't meet with me. Argh. I was in the library this morning working on my "homework assignment" for him from 9AM to 1PM. The assignment that I have been working on for him for the past four days. But whatever.
The good thing about the assignment was that it got BK back on my mind. And by back on my mind I mean taking it over. Which is good and what it should be like.
Oh, and...SARA SARA SARA SARA SARA. My friend Sara. I think that my friend Sara has now been mentioned more times than anyone else in this blog, save Mr. Lear.
Tuesday, January 21, 2003
Hopefully the double post about Joe Millionaire will be gone. It's gone here, but it's still showing up on the webpage.
Not much happened today. We started talking about the Investiture Conflict in Civ, which is definitely hot shit. The pope excommunicates like everyone in Germany and then they call him arrogant and accuse him of sleeping with another man's wife and then he excommunicates them all again. I love the Roman Catholic Church's history. It's so hot.
I will not, repeat, NOT lose the battle for my territory in the Reg to the ugly, annoying, loud, inconsiderate, ugly, stupid, international GSB students who are swarming all over the goddam place. At least I have headphones. Speaking of headphones, I bought BATTERIES today with my FLEX DOLLARS which means that I can a) listen to my walkman for the first time in a couple of weeks and b) eat.
Sara is in DC (well, actually, she's about to land back here in Chicago). She went to be on a panel of female college students for tomorrow's Nightline. They'll be discussing the current state of the abortion debate in the nation's colleges.
I got my CPR textbook today. Oh, wait, I meant CPR textpamphlet. And I got to make out with (I mean, give rescue breaths to) my first dummy.
I'm going to New York City in just over a week and I still really have no idea what I'm going to do. I'd like to go see some shows and go to the Strand but that's pretty much it for now.
Monday, January 20, 2003
I just finished watching Joe Millionaire. He kept Zora!!! It was a little sketchy at first and we all thought she was going to get cut, but she made it.
Scott's telling me that he didn't think she was going to get cut. But I guess he has a better idea of how the mind of a straight man works than I do.
10:30 AM Campus Tour. It's MLK day and, unlike us, everyone else in the world has the day off. So the tour is huge and it's a pretty regular winter day here (read: cold). I know my group is cold but they know that it's a walking tour and they've been warned that they'll be spending a lot of time outside. This guy starts saying "Let's go inside" as we come near any building.
At one point I said, "Cold weather makes you stronger." A woman muttered a response of "Unless you die."
HELLO PEOPLE: it's a walking tour. It's winter. In Chicago. Hello! Don't go on the tour if you don't want to. You don't have to.
Back at the Reynolds Club. I'm closing again tonight. But I've actually been slightly productive tonight: I finished my reading for Lolita, designed posters for campus tour guide applications, held a production meeting, and got paid $9/hr for all of it. I'm going to hit R.W. Southern's The Making of the Middle Ages, supplemental reading for Civ, next.
The day has been uneventful so there is nothing to report. I was at Jimmy's until just after 3 AM last night. I woke up at 1 today (sleep, blessed sleep). I went to the drugstore to buy deoderant. I brushed my teeth, took a shower, got dressed, went to the Reg. Then I came to work.
The Golden Globes are on. Go watch them, everyone.
1:45 AM...I'm almost, almost, almost allowed to leave the Reynolds Club. There's no one here except for me, the people closing the coffee shop upstairs, the nice Polish-American woman who cleans the building on the weekend nights, and the dead cockroach.
When I leave I'm going to Jimmy's to hit up the bar before last call and meet up with Chad, Miguel, and Ann Marie.
Gabe, a classmate from Civ, and I chatted for a bit at the front desk. He told me a good joke: "What's the difference between a straight man and a gay man?"
First, Joe and Christopher stopped by the Reynolds Club and gave me a pack of cigarettes. For free. Then Deborah stopped by and gave me some of the pasta she and Margo had eaten earlier, so I'm less hungry then I was earlier. And now Anna and Ann Marie are here and Deborah's still here so I'm not lonely and bored anymore. Closing on Saturday nights sucks!
Oh, and there's this nasty dead cockroach on the table in the basement office. I refuse to touch it.
So I owe the blog a report from last night, especially with regard to the gay-boy party. So here we go.
Last night I went to see A Duchampian Romp, even the latest "prime-time" offering from the Neo-Futurists, those venerable and intelligent folk who also bring us Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind. It wasn't that bad. It just opened this weekend, it has some pacing issues, it's a little TOO, if you know what I mean, but there are some really great moments.
It's also the naked Neo-Futurist play, because everyone on stage at some point is completely nude.
There is, like in every Neo-Futurist show, a lot of audience participation: for example, Mike was questioned about the loss of his virginity and I got to draw pictures on a window with Greg Allen.
After the show Mike, Lindsey, Pete, and I walked from Foster and Ashland to Damen and Montrose (about 30 minutes). And it was really FUCKING cold last night. We ate at this diner called Le Sabre on the corner there (they actually butter your toast for you!) and then took the Brown Line back down south. Mike said he would go to the gay party with me if he got a chance to go home and clean up, so we decided to wait for the 6, which took FOREVER so we decided to walk over to Michigan and wait for the 173/6/4 and then we saw a 6 and actually RAN after it. I have now exercised for the month.
So we got back to Hyde Park and Mike decided that he wasn't going to go, which I kind of understood. But I needed a drink after spending most of the previous two hours walking around when temperatures were in the teens and wind chills had to be below zero. So I went home, called Joe and Christopher to make sure they were still there, and grabbed my Jim Beam and left. I got there and the party was definitely in full swing. It was an okay party but I was in a surly ass mood and spent most of the time sitting around bitching with Christopher and smoking. Most of the guys there were very young - first and second years - and I'm so over working to get people to pay attention to me and dealing with all the groping and staring and bitch-contests that trying to flirt with someone in a room full of gay men requires. People were grinding all over each other in a kind of sensual desperation and I just felt old. At one point this kid (who's in HIGH SCHOOL; I don't know how he gets to these parties) comes up to me and Andrew as Andrew is taking a drink from my Beam and (obviously drunk) says, "What is that?" I say, "It tastes like cardboard. You don't want any." He looks at me and responds with, "What do you taste like?" and then proceeds to KISS MY NECK, commiting a shameless violation of my personal space that I did not even come close to inviting. I don't dig the scene, I guess.
But it was decently fun because I got to be bitchy with Christopher and watch Joe and Nathaniel (neither of whom cared much to grope or be groped) dance.
Friday, January 17, 2003
Okay, more dreams about my friends' deaths. What's going on?
In this one, Christopher returned from New York over the break to report that Joe had died. He was really, really upset. Since I hadn't seen him in awhile (and haven't, this quarter) I was of course very upset and trying to console him with Deborah outside Harper. I suggested that we go somewhere and get coffee and talk and then Deborah (and the mass of people that were around us, somehow) accused me of trying to start a relationship with Christopher and charged me with being only concerned about my gains during his period of loss. And then Joe walked up, smoking, and said, "Hey Jon," and I pointed an accusing finger at them and screamed "You guys faked his death!" And that was the end of the dream.
The Cove last night rocked, by the way, but Ruthie is right when she says that she smelled like smokehouse. My hair smelled like stale, old smoke when I washed it this morning.
OH MY GOD! James Redfield just walked past me. LOVE HIM.
So Becky gave me some condoms and lube in the OFF, OFF, seriously off chance I get some action at PRILQ's on Friday night. I invited Mike; if he comes, he'd find the stupid gay boy party hilarious. At least that would make it bearable. I'm really not looking forward to going, but Joe and Christopher say that I have to. We can be bitchy and smoke a lot. Oh well. And if Mike (of the gay FBI, not Castelle) and Rebecca are there, I'll just hang out with them.
I've said it many times before, and I'll say it again: I will NOT close the Cove tonight. I will NOT drink too much. I will NOT sleep until noon tomorrow. I WILL go to the library and get work done.
Whatever. I'm probably going to get wasted. Whatever. Oh, college.
And FOX is the greatest television show ever for putting together this shit:
MAN VERSUS BEAST!!!!!! Check out this article from Slate for more info:
Sometimes I fucking love this country. This and Joe Millionaire (GO ZORA!).
Maybe I should do work. Maybe indeed.
So I had this really, really fucked up dream last night. It was about my friend Margo's family. First, her brother Garth had to drop out of school (he's a second-year here) to take care of their father, Neal, who has had some health problems in real life. In the world of the dream Neal had gotten worse and Garth left to take care of him. Then we found out that Margo had like six days to live so her mother Eden came and threw this party/memorial service/wake for Margo WHILE SHE WAS STILL ALIVE on the quads near Cobb. And I'm sitting there, bawling, holding Ann Marie, and my roommate Phil comes up and says "What's wrong?" And because I think it's plainly obvious what's wrong I ask him just to leave me alone. And then he gets pissed off at me for being inconsiderate and how he was just concerned etc., etc. and leads HALF THE PEOPLE AT THE PARTY/WAKE/WHATEVER against me. So Ann Marie and I fled.
Oh, FYI: I've found that you can get radically different results on the Angelina and Winona tests when you ask your friends to answer the questions for you. It can also make you really angry when they think your clothing sucks.
So I had to set up the vcr/tv for the people at the Q&A meeting tonight. I have a couple of friends in Q&A, and PRILQ usually goes, so I feel bad when I say this, but WHY, oh WHY, are the gay people at this school so weird? I mean, seriously, folks, how the hell am I supposed to find a nice husband when they're SO weird? Whatever. They're watching the first episode of Queer as Folk up in the South Lounge. Furthermore, that show SUCKS.
Now I'm going to go lock the door after Kelly and go back up to the South Lounge.
I'm over at Bartlett Commons filling in for someone who couldn't make it to his shift on time. Then I get to go back to the Reynolds Club. Some of the people that eat in the dining halls are weird. (I know some of you who are reading this still eat there, so that's why I'm not saying ALL the people). This is a really weird building. I feel kind of like Aramark came up to the university and called in lots of favors and gave a lot of money to the school and said, "Build this for us. We want it." And the university had to find something to do with all the extra space. If the idea was to create another student activities building, I think they failed, because there are only really two "student activities spaces:" the dance room (which is useable for ONE purpose only and is really badly designed) and the academic teams room. Whatever. I'm usually never here, so it doesn't matter.
OH MY GOD. Today I had to fill in teaching at Bret Harte for the School Partnership Program. The kids totally, totally hate me. It's so frustrating, because I wasn't trying to be mean, I was just trying to get them to respect each other, stop rolling their eyes at me, be quiet while other people were performing their scenes on stage, etc., etc. Last week, when Leila and I were teaching them, we practiced doing a scene in front of them. The idea was that they use big gestures and, on a big gesture, one of the teachers calls out "freeze!" and then another student takes someone's spot. Then resumes the scene, but creating an entirely different story. I asked for a suggestion for a relationship between Leila and I to start off the scene, and one of them said:
"Boyfriend and girlfriend!"
To which I said no. Too easy, too formulaic, etc.
"How 'bout, she's your best friend, and you gay!"
I also said no. They were totally making fun of me. Argh.
BUT...tonight is THURSDAY NIGHT, which means $$$$$$$$$4 pitchers at the Cove! Hell, yeah. Hopefully some of my friends will come with me. I need a drink after today.
I have to turn in an outline for my junior paper tomorrow after Lear basically made me start over again on Tuesday. I'll turn something in but I don't know if it's worth it.
I'm on the phone with Joe so I'll post more later.
All right, I promised an update, so I'll give you one.
I am at work at the Reynolds Club right now until 12:30. I just came from the Admissions Office, where I spent two hours calling prospective students from Florida. Most of them were from Miami, a lot of them wanted to do Econ, and I tried to sift through the piles for people who were more humanities-oriented and from other parts of Florida. I actually found one from Melbourne Beach, about 35-40 minutes away from my parents' house. Another person from Fort Walton Beach, where my father and stepmother lived for awhile. And one guy who talked to me for a really, really long time. But I actually felt like I did well because he had a lot of questions to ask. And he was interested in Fundamentals, which made me happy.
Speaking of classes, CPR/First Aid is the BEST CLASS EVER. I learned how to check and care for an unconscious victim today, modeled by Ann Marie. I've totally found the possible cute guy who I can "practice" on later. Oh God. I actually just wrote that. But it is kind of true.
Opinion poll: for those of you who know my email address: what's the better thing to do this coming summer:
a) Get a FLAG grant and spend a couple of months, poor and hungry, in France in preparation for reading The Stranger in French next fall.
b) Try to get a $4000 Metcalfe and live in my apartment here in Chicago all summer and work at a place like About Face Youth Theatre.
Email me and let me know what you think.
If any of you have ever been in love, you should participate in Ruthie's project for her class. Go to ruthie.blogspot.com for more info.
Today in Civ I got to be the king and figure out how to house and feed my vassals when they come for their requisite 40 days of military service. And then Mrs. Weintraub lay seige to my castle. (One of my arguments was the need to call an interior decorator to pick out the tapestries that I would have to hang up).
OH! Friday night is this quarter's "gay boy party," hosted by potential romantic interest from last quarter (PRILQ). PRILQ haven't seen much of each other since the quarter started, mostly because I am lazy and don't feel like expending the effort to get rejected. So we'll see what happens. Friday night I am also going to see the Neo-Futurists' new show, A Duchampian Romp, Even about, you guessed it, Duchamp.
Yesterday was my mom's birthday and I spoke with her for as quickly as possible. I did not mention the business transaction-type letter that she wrote in which she informed me, paradoxically, that our relationship was based on love. And I could tell she was waiting for me to do it. It's the first time we've spoken since December 26, the day I left Florida to return to Chicago.
Today I made up a song about how Jonathan Lear, the John U. Nef Distinguished Service Professor in the Committee on Social Thought and The College, hates me. Which I don't think he actually does. Every time I meet with him, once a week, I leave feeling frustrated and kind of stupid and also detect a glimmer of some really hard intellectual possibility within me. He's really, really pushing me to think very hard and very carefully about my topic (whatever that may be). Which is good. Very good. But also very gruff. He can be a little, well, gruff. Quote for the week (paraphrased, rather): "Christianity has evaporated as anything of interest to you." Which I hope isn't true, especially because I might want to go to a divinity school.
My roommates are messing up my apartment! I haven't had a drink since Saturday! Aggghhh! At least tomorrow morning is a writing day and I'll get to look at BK with some different perspective. At least Lear said that my paper for class last quarter was "an excellent first step."
I miss Mark Lilla (Professor, Committee on Social Thought and The College). He's my regular adviser.
I took a smoke break earlier and it was SO FUCKING COLD. But then, I am addicted. So I'll just have to deal.
Sunday, January 12, 2003
I'm not really ignoring this blog. Thursday and Friday nights were spent in drunken debauchery (of a largely non-sexual kind) and Saturday was spent running over people while playing Grand Theft Auto: Vice City, quite possibly the best video game on earth. And drinking 40s. Of Old Style. And now I'm reading Lolita. So I can't really add stuff. But, as the Smiths might say, "I'm still fond of you."
Wednesday, January 08, 2003
For some reason (perhaps because I am really, really stupid) I cannot create links...can anyone help? Email me...jrquinn
So now that Ruthie stuck in a link on her blog I feel the need to keep this thing updated.
Today I went to my class on Lolita with the uber-famous Malynne Sternstein (who I really, really hope I see at the Cove for $4 pitcher night tomorrow night). Apparently when Nabokov was a teacher here in the US he really hated teaching and would design some pretty impossible exams for his students to take. So our midterm is going to be to design an exam similar to his (we're going to get some photocopies of them) and then we're going to give it to a classmate to take. And we have to come up with an anagram for our name. And the final paper may have to be written on notecards, also a la Nabokov. First impressions are: class, good; Nabokov, asshole. But whatever, he's a better writer than I'll ever be.
Oh! Yesterday I won an argument with Jonathan Lear, the John U. Nef Distinguished Service Professor in the Committee on Social Thought at The University of Chicago , about Ivan's thinking-as-transgression in The Brothers Karamazov. He's my adviser for my junior paper (which I sort of worked on today in the library). Because I'm writing it this quarter I have so few classes and feel like I have way, way too much time on my hands. Which is definitely, definitely bad.
Monday, January 06, 2003
I cannot resist continuing to post to this thing.
You should all buy Neko Case's album, Blacklisted.
It's alt-country. Not everyone may like it. Joe and Christopher are here and we're going to go smoke soon. I still don't have anything constructive to say for tomorrow's meeting.
After hours and hours of reading weblogs by people that I know and don't know online, I finally could no longer resist the urge to create my own. Especially because I found out it was free (thanks, Ruthie). So now other bored people of the world can read my life on the internet. Cool-yo.
So...here's what I do. I'm a third-year student at the University of Chicago concentrating in Fundamentals (I'll save what will have to be a lengthy explanation of Fundamentals for a later post). I'm 21, gay, and (pretty happily) single. I do a lot of theater here at the U of C, mostly through University Theater, where I mostly production manage nowadays. I have three jobs: working as the tour guide coordinator for the Office of College Admissions here on campus, coordinating the outreach/education programs for University Theater, and working as a building manager at the Reynolds Club and Bartlett (two student activities buildings here). I'm building managing right now, and bored, so that's why I'm creating a weblog.
I'm originally from Florida but now live in Chicago and am so happy I escaped.
Someone's bag was stolen (we think) earlier tonight here in the Reynolds Club. That's the most exciting thing that's happening here, aside from the super-spunky team at the Chicago Weekly News putting together a first edition of the quarter.
I should go now because I have to think of something intelligent to say to my junior paper adviser during our first meeting tomorrow.