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asadakljasdf. Neil Gaiman's daughter = SO CUTE. Gah.

I'm sorry there's not much else of interest to say. I applied for a job today, which isn't really exciting; I'm meeting eccentric_hat for dinner tonight in the city, which always is. :)

Oh, and I'm remembering to print out another play to read on the train. Because that needs to be done, yes it does.

I haven't had this much to say in a while. Bear with me.

The highlight of my life happened earlier this week (graduation and a whole lot of other things aside): I went to an evening of play readings, and I met Tom Stoppard. Not only did I meet Sir Tom, I shook his hand, thanked him for writing "Rock 'N' Roll," and received his thanks for being a fan and coming to that night's event (not his play). I wrote to my thesis advisor today:

As I walked into the theater, I spotted an older gentleman taking a cigarette break. It was Sir Tom, hunkered down on the low stone wall, having a conversation with a young woman. I dithered for a minute, and then interrupted them as politely as possible to introduce myself, and say how much I'd liked RnR. When I added that I'd written my thesis about him, he responded, "Oh...I'm so sorry."

I refrained from replying that he should be, and that my advisor and I had decided he was one of the most difficult authors about whom to write coherently. Ever. Unfortunately, I didn't get to tell him my witty title -- while I'm sure he'd appreciate the punningly awesome humor of "S. Gone Wilde," at the time he clearly just wanted to finish his cigarette and pre-show conversation. Huge thanks are due to Marty Seeger, without whose prompting I probably would have just walked past him and squee'd quietly to myself. Yay, Marty! Also, if anyone cares, the plays were quite good.

( The part of the post without celebrity knights )

Raaaahhh, LJ! It's not my fault your clocks are two hours ahead! Why won't you just let me post?!

Tori Amos and/or Neil Gaiman fans take note: the Neil tribute album is coming soon. (link via pink is the new blog)

Looking at job postings is a lot more fun that actually applying to them. I spent 30 minutes tonight browsing various media job sites, and came up with two internships and numerous other jobs that I'm not yet qualified for. Writing the cover letters for these jobs might kill me -- but I had a nice moment when I realized that my past experience matches almost every one of the internship duties described by a specific magazine. I'm qualified for something, yay!

Spring break continues to be less productive but more fun than a week in South Hadley should be. The thesis is coming along, although it could be better; the drama paper has barely been touched. Mostly, my days consist of lots of movie-watching and reading (Neverwhere and Anansi Boys), cooking, and washing dishes.

I'm sort of writing a paper about the Beatles and Bob Dylan...but I'm on a break, and checking PostSecret. Today kind of sucked, but this is my new favorite postcard, and things look a little brighter.

Hope for humanity and all, y'know. Amazing how it changes your outlook.

Unrelated to that: ( Google images meme )

Guess what I'm supposed to be working on.

Instead, I'm wishing I had several thousand dollars to throw around on things like this. Proceeds are going to charity, so I totally need the broken bracelet, some quills. or a new dress.

Mostly I just think it's cool to be able to see the magnificent detail on some of these costumes -- bloodstained relics from Scary Movie aside.

Full list of eBay items is here (because I know I've always wanted to own an original costume from The Faculty); also listed here, with scarier prices. Originally linked by cleolinda.

Although I have fond memories of watching the Athens opening ceremonies and Paralympic swimming (at work and in Bath, respectively), it's been a long time since I really got into an Olympics season. The summer games never hold much interest for me -- the only sport I'm really interested in is riding, and those events are only broadcast in the wee hours of the morning -- and during the Salt Lake games, I was busy being a crazy high school senior, and trying to figure out what to do with my life.

Watching the (admittedly goofy) opening ceremonies on Friday night was a blast. I hadn't planned on watching any of the coverage, but I read the NYTimes recap of the ceremony on Friday afternoon, before it aired. And even though it sounded fantastic, nothing could have prepared me for the utter awesomeness of the 3-D mountainous dresses, or the giant celestial balloons, or Yoko Ono, or Pavarotti and his hankie. Nor was I prepared for the utter attractiveness of the athletes. There are some fine-looking people hanging out in Turin right now, is what I'm saying.

What this is leading up to: I feel like I spent the weekend watching TV. mirror_dancer came over for a cookie-baking date and more sports-watching (luge! moguls! PAIRS SKATING!). Eva and Rhea came over for dinner tonight and still more sports -- snowboarding and sk-jumping this time. ( And so much more! )

When I yelled, "Can we get drunk and watch the Olympics every weekend" last night? I was only half-kidding.

For banannagoats: Sven!

For olivia_circe (non-Olympic, but I found it unexpectedly saved): 19th-century!Giles

PostSecret manages to be simultaneously more depressing and uplifting than usual...and now I'd much rather sit and make Valentines instead of working on my thesis or making up questions about The Cherry Orchard. Could be dangerous.

One paper done, one to go, still more than 12 hours to do it in. Pshaw.

Safely home...but my suitcase hasn't made it yet. US Airways apparently misplaced it when I changed planes in Philly. Booooo. I need my woolly socks and long underwear, yo. The house is bloody cold.

"Lazy Sunday" could get me watching SNL again.

The post-paper plan for tomorrow involves lots of reading and coffee at Stauf's. Socializing? What's that?

ETA: The airline guy says my bag will be here by 1 or 1:30 AM. Hooray! I didn't want to tell him I'd still be up, typing.

The perfect gift for English professors and librarian-types: Holy Tango of Literature, by Francis Heaney, a survey of literature through the ages, "if poets and playwrights wrote works whose titles were anagrams of their names."

For example:

SKINNY DOMICILE
EMILY DICKINSON

I have a skinny Domicile—
Its Door is very narrow.
’Twill keep—I hope—the Reaper out—
His Scythe—and Bones—and Marrow.

Since Death is not a portly Chap,
The Entrance must be thin—
So—when my Final Moment comes—
He cannot wriggle in.

That’s why I don’t go out that much—
I can’t fit through that Portal.
How dumb—to waste my Social Life
On Plans to be—immortal—

You can also read the whole thing online, but that doesn't help with the gift-giving.

I have a headache, and my reading isn't done. Boo.

On the other hand, the Vegas night entry now includes a picture. Woo!

Also, in the course of Googling Oscar Wilde quotes today, I came across a totally awesome article on Velvet Goldmine: it covers the shooting and rights difficulties through the glamorous Cannes premiere party, and includes a nifty sidebar on the soundtrack. (The formatting on the page is god-awful, but it's an interesting read.)

And from BoingBoing, it's "The Tell-Tale Heart" meets Dr. Seuss: Horton Hears a Heart. Just weird enough that it's worth sharing at this hour of the morning.