Fall from Ethos

As I write this, I am eating pancakes and sitting in the corner of my room where my bedroom door and closet door intersect (I recently discovered--this morning--that this is the best place to catch the warm air as it exits the vent), fuming over earlier events from tonight. At this point in time, due to my limited funds reserved for the heating bill as well as the onset of this cold spell, I have no immediate desire for my blood pressure to lower because I at least want to stay warm until I snuggle up in bed. What transpired, however, is something that I think you will all want to hear.

I am in a night class. Had I had my way, this would not have happened. This class, though, is semi-required, and so it came about that I signed away my Wednesday nights from 6-9pm to Intro to Communication Theory. I have had classes at this time before, and I had noticed a trend in that I always seemed to find these classes particularly odious--whether because I had such an intense dislike for the subject matter, the time, or a combination of the two is still unclear--so I was particularly worried about having this class fill the exact same time slot.

My fears were answered the first day of class when I accidentally fell asleep during lecture and dreamed I was taking notes.

The professor hardly endeared himself to me this week, the second week, when we somehow began talking about how people tend to believe tall people more than short people, possibly because the general population believes that a shorter person thinks they have more to prove. The professor began talking about how whenever presidents are shown on tv, they are always shot from below, giving the appearance that they are much taller than they actually are.

"Like Richard Nixon," Professor said. "He was this tall." He held out his arm perpendicular to his body, creating a perfect 90 degree angle in his armpit. "I know. I've stood next to him. But you wouldn't guess he was only this tall by looking at him on tv. That's because they exaggerate the camera angle."

I was a bit surprised by this, but Nixon being well before my time, I was easily convinced that he was the president who also carried the title "Shortest President."

Professor continued talking about other presidents, placing Obama in the "6 foot range" and Dubya in the "mid- to high-five feet range." Given what I'd seen of the two of them, I found these very general representations of their heights to be accurate. I, however, do not consider myself to be a particularly political person, and therefore cannot consider myself to be quite the authority that some are on presidential heights.

Then Professor got a bit more into my territory.

"And how tall do you think Brad Pitt is?" he asked the class. I heard some estimations from around the class, mostly around the 5'10" and 5'9" range.

"FIVE FOOT FOUR!" Professor revealed to us. There was a general murmur of "bullshit" throughout the room immediately following the announcement.

"Are you sure you're not thinking of Ben Stiller?" someone asked.
"Or Tom Cruise?" asked another.

"No, no. It's true," Professor informed us. "He only looks taller because Angelina Jolie is such a tiny thing. And I know this because Brad Pitt was in the movie 'The Mexican,' with Julia Roberts. Do you know how tall Julia Roberts is? SIX FEET TALL."

By this point, everyone had pulled out their laptops, cell phones, and iPods to look up Professor's statistics. I heard one of the TAs sitting behind me whisper to the other sitting beside her, "It's a new age."

"And in the movie 'The Mexican,'" he continued, "They had to have Brad Pitt stand on a ramp to make him appear taller than Julia Roberts so they could be like the image we have in our minds of what a couple should look like--with the man taller than the woman."

I was among those who had immediately turned to my iPod for verification of my teacher's blatant incorrectness. Searching Google, I quickly found my answer--Brad Pitt is somewhere between 5'9" and 5'10", though he lists himself as 5'11"--right where we predicted he would be, and a good half foot taller than Professor claimed him to be. Moving on to Julia, I discovered that, rather than being 6 feet tall, Roberts stands a bit above average at 5'8". Rather than being eight inches taller than Brad Pitt, she was two or three inches shorter. The necessity of the ramp Professor claimed they had used in filming the movie had changed from being a necessary prop to make Brad Pitt taller than his co-star, to being a prop that merely amplified the difference between their heights.

And, finally, on to former President Nixon. After finding his height, I spent the last forty-five minutes of class trying to gauge the height of Professor. He seemed to be a fairly average height, probably "in the six foot range" though I couldn't determine much beyond that. His waist hit at about the same height as the counter to the table that served as a desk at the front of the room. Were I to stand at the desk, the counter would probably hit just above my navel. Keep in mind, though, that I possess abnormally short legs. No, as far as I could tell, Professor is of fairly average height, not the extreme height of 6'6" or 6'7" (possibly higher depending on head size and neck length) that he would have to be for a 5'11-1/2" Richard Nixon (the tallest in this trio, I will note) to come just to his shoulder.

Given, he never told us at what age Nixon stood next to him--a pre-pubescent Nixon could easily have been the one to which he was referring--but with the authority and importance that he made his statement, I can only imagine that he stood beside Nixon at some point during his presidency, pre-Watergate.

I quickly lost all faith in Professor, and for good reason. Telling us, with such authority no less, that Brad Pitt is about the size of a jockey just about killed me. When I told someone in Prague that I was a Communications major, he promptly responded that at his school, girls who were Communications majors were really just in for their M-R-S degrees. This major being such an obvious joke, I really have to wonder how it is that a professor could be so blatantly misinformed about one of the most important celebrities of our time.

The Office

Boss: Emily, do you want to come roller skating with us?
ER: Excuse me?
Boss: I'm trying to get a group together to go to the roller rink next Friday. Do you want to come?
ER: Can I wear my roller disco outfit?

Heat

I am considering putting on a pair of gloves. Now that I am forced to pay for my own heat, I have decided that 60 degrees is warm enough to survive. If I want to get warm, I will just have to cozy up under my blankets. It's that simple. This just goes to show that college is not all about the pain of a week-long all-nighter and unbearable, unmanageable stress. It's also about learning to endure discomfort (like being cold) so that you can have other pleasures (like Jimmy Johns for lunch).

Bixby's Observations

I realize that because my trip is now over that technically this [travel] blog should be complete as well. I find myself at home again and completely over my jetlag (though I still tell people I am jetlagged just so they don't judge me for going to be at 10 o'clock every night over winter break), so I feel like a conclusion post should be in order. However, I am not in the mood to conclude this, or to even sum up my adventures. I'm sure that will come at some point in the near future. At this point in time, though, I am going to tell a little story.

I took my car in to the auto repair shop formerly known as Al & Lou's today. Apparently the brake light in the back window was burned out and, because I am headed back to school tomorrow in this car, the repair of this particular feature made it onto my to-do short list, along with getting a throat culture and buying an adapter to allow me to play my iPod in the car.

To pass the hour where Clyde was in the possession of the maintenance man, I headed over to Bixby's, ordered a Jumpin' Monkey, and settled myself into a black leather armchair by the window. I cast a cursory glance at the people surrounding me, most of whom appeared to be hard at work--a few were with their laptops.

It wasn't until I had turned on some Blink, for old time's sake, that I really examined my surroundings. It was during this second examination that, in the middle of What's My Age Again?, I found my attention drawn to the cover of the laptop of the girl sitting closest to me. A hot pink post-it, partially covering the Toshiba logo, was what had drawn my attention to her.

Before I say anything else, I will admit that I am a fan of using post-its as reminders. They are the paper created purely as a reminder tool; they stick to mostly everything and come in an assortment of colors to ensure that your attention is drawn to them. In general, though, I do tend to keep my private post-its...private.

It was obvious to me, in reading this girl's post-it, that she too was a strong proponent of post-it use, though perhaps the privacy issue for her was not something that took such a prominent place in her mind. Written in large green letters on the hot pink post-it were the words,

"Plan B!!"

I realize Plan B could mean many different things, but given the current contraceptive connotations of the phrase combined with the reminding nature of post-its, I nearly felt obligated to do my part as well and be a reminder, in addition to the post-it, to ensure that she would not miss that important 12 or 24 or 48 hour (or however long it is) mark. After this brief consideration, however, I instead opted to just take a picture of the situation, using it as a kind of congratulatory device for myself in that I have never allowed my private post-its to become public.

The Alternative to Snow...

I never thought that I'd miss snow. I'm not a person particularly inclined to bask in the glow of snow. I can appreciate the flakes as they fall from the sky, and know that they are beautiful, but ultimately, I don't feel a particular kinship with this form of precipitation. It is cold.

I was in Greece over the weekend. And while Friday was a beautiful day, at least 20 degrees and sunny, Saturday it poured rain. There were puddles in the street, mingling with the excessive amounts of garbage left by striking garbage workers. It was while walking down the street, after getting completely soaked by an enormous splash from a car driving much too quickly, and after being forced to SHOUT over my shoulder to make Trevor hear me, that I realized one thing that snow has over rain: Rain makes everything louder. Snow makes everything beautifully muffled.

It was not until hearing news of the events that were/are taking place in Minnesota at the moment--southern Minnesota no less--that I realized how much I miss snow. There is a blizzard in Minnesota. Here, it has been raining for days. I have not seen a flake of snow for months, and none of it has stayed on the ground here.

I hated snow until I realized the alternative was rain. When I get home, the best welcome I could get (once my plane lands in the MSP airport) is a blizzard that follows us all the way back to Duluth, forces us to drive 20 mph the entire way home, and makes Dad squint into the darkness while getting all sweaty and angry.

Homesickness. I am ill.

As a tried and true procrastination technique, as well as a result of a fit of homesickness, I compiled a list of [some of] the things I miss from home.

Nora: A Poem

The syllables aren't correct, but the sentiment remains. Good luck Nora.

There once was a girl named Nora
Who learned some fauna and flora
She studied for Orgo
Her life she did forgo
All to go to Australi-ora

Yay Nora! Good luck with finals!

Pro Amandu

This is dedicated to Amanda because she is the one who asked.

Since coming to the Czech Republic, I have found myself becoming increasingly and increasingly unproductive. It is not that I do not want to complete my homework (actually that is part of it)--I really want my homework to be done, but without my effort. This leads to an intense bout of procrastination. Actually, it can hardly be called procrastination; it is prioritzing, and when in Prague, I must see Prague. Therefore, there are good excuses (in my mind) to not completing my homework.

I must say, though, that it is getting a bit wearing to say that I am going to be productive and then find myself, five hours later, staring at a nearly blank page where the only writing, at the top, lists the date and says "Art History Neo-Classical Notes." This lack of productivity is killing me and is, I think, part of the reason that I signed up for 20 credits next semester. To make up for my lack of drive and homework output this semester, I am overcompensating next semester. Right now, I am totally fine with this. Ask me again in three months and I'll tell you different.

Generous Support for Minnesota Public Radio

I just donated money to Minnesota Public Radio and I think you should too.

I will admit, though, that this generosity originated with a bad bout of procrastination combined with an intense desire for a Radio Heartland Canvas Bag. It also helps that by streaming MPR, I am able to get my much-needed Minnesotan accent fix. Not to mention it is for a good cause. Plus the Current is excellent study music, though I suppose it is also important to note that I have not accomplished any work since I turned The Current on.

This is my justification for spending money on things at home while I am away.

Today

I suppose I'll do the tally system again to give you a brief idea of my weekend thus far.

Yesterday (Friday):
-Met with the Czech person I am helping learn English (+1 culture point, +1 social point). He laughs every time I try to say Petrin (-1 culture point), and when he tries to say things the way I do, I notice how pronounced my Minnesooootan accent really is (-1 culture point, +1 cool point).
-Went to a "stereotype party" where everyone was supposed to dress as a stereotype (+1 social point). Not having dressed up, I tried to convince everyone I came as your stereotypical modest Midwestern girl with wholesome values (-1 cool point). Nobody believed me (-1 cool point). I did, however, spend time mingling (+1 social point) and drinking a gin and tonic (+1 social point, +1 cool point).

Today (Saturday):
-Went to a wine festival (+1 cool point, +1 culture point) with some friends (+1 social point) and drank "young wine" (+1 cool point, +1 culture point).
-Almost went paddle boating on the Vltava (+1 culture point, +1 cool point), but didn't have time (-1 cool point) because...
-Went to Mozart's "Requiem" (+1 cool point, +1 culture point) at St. Nicholas's Church in the Mala Strana (+3 cool points, +1 culture point).
-Possibly walked 5+ miles today (+27 exhaustion points).

So that comes to...
Cool: 7 points
Culture: 4 points
Social: 5 points
Exhaustion: 27 points

Obviously, a good couple of days.

Some Sad News from Across the Atlantic

Sad sad day:

1) I got stung by a bee
2) The Minnesota t-shirt is no longer in the shop window and when I went in there after class today, the woman behind the counter didn't speak English and had no idea what I was trying to ask.

(My stung finger is now fine, though it was touch and go for a while)

Taste of Home

Every morning I take a tram to Andel, then transfer to another tram (tram 7) that takes me to the bottom of a big hill that makes me die a little inside every time I look up it. One morning when I was on tram 7, I was staring out the window, probably contemplating the meaning of life when it came to me--in a shop window was an old-style Minnesota Twins t-shirt. I started in excitement, and pointed it out to the girl I was with--another fellow Minnesotan (though not the Twins fan that I am). Someday soon I think I'm going to buy that shirt. I think the label on it said that it's 80 CZK (about $5, obviously they don't really know the worth of the Minnesota Twins). Until then I get a little taste of home every morning when I pass it by.

Otherwise if I get homesick, I hear that the restaurant TexMex is very American here.