it was a grey morning and they wondered how they would fare
"do you want to go dumpster diving?" anna's eyes glint as i throw the suggestion out to her, her head quickly nodding in the affirmative.
today started with too little coffee and far too much jesus. ten o'clock is not an unreasonable hour for class to begin, i totally understand this. but after staying up well past my regular bedtime, and only getting half the amount of caffeine laden nectar i was used to, well.... jesus was a little overwhelming.
after jesus it was break time. i ate this fantastic cup of yogurt, read plato's crito outloud with gabrielle on the quad sitting under a tree andgotinagrassfightwiththehumsboy. *cough*
then it was lecture number two of the core seminar. i think that the reputation of this year scares a lot of people, and after that class and the following discussion group, i can understand why. normally, second year is referred to as a sort of dark time, likened to travelling through hades only to get lost and be stuck someplace other then the elysium fields for a great amount of time. i'm thinking it might not be that bad, just a bit..worrisome at times.
like today for instance. when professor macisaac told us that we don't know what a cookie tastes like. we don't know anything we experience. it's impossible to know. knowledge is only universal, and usually, but not always, measurable. the cookie is not known because the cookies is sensed.
my brain hurts too.
and then, when i got home, there was excited chatter coming from the common room. at the table: random girl i don't know. on the couch: ashley in a very mini skirt. yelling about lightbulbs [or so i thought] from her room: anna. and on the floor- two awesome lithographs by an unknown artist that ashley had rescued from a dumpster behind the art gallery.
"there were more, like, under the garbage in there. but i was so totally not, like, diving in the trash!" she laughs, twirling a finger around one of the red extensions in her hair. anna laments the fact that someone has actually thrown away, "into the actual dumpster" she intones in a distressed air, art. so i ask her if she wants to go and possibly, retrieve, some of these works of art.
up to my arms in pizza crusts, broken glass, flourescent light rods and tim horton's coffee cups, rescuing very strange and slightly disturbing lithographs and loving every moment of it- is that a bad thing?