Emily

Please please please in the name of all that is holy someone tell me you can lend me the third season of The West Wing on DVD.  We could get it off netflix, but a) that takes forever and b)it will take even longer because my mom is ordering season 2 first, since I don't really want to tell her that I bought all of season 2 off itunes out of desperation (she kept telling me not to waste my money).
But listen: iTunes, Netflix's online watching thing, and Amazon.com's instant download ALL provide only seasons 1 and 2.  Why?!?!?!?!
And I've given up on bittorrent et. al. because they just weren't working out on this computer.
So yeah.
I'm not proud of asking this.
But still!

Thanks Kirin, Keenan, Evan, Katherine, and Jon!

Hey, pals who have MacBooks (or laptops in general), do you every use a mouse, or is the keypad really easy to work?  My dad wanted me to find out.

Well, yes.

Because I'm almost tempted to buy all of the like 140 songs on iTunes entitled "Emily."

However, I will refrain.

Why, in France, do they only eat one egg for breakfast?

Hahahahaha

Reading about actors' real lives depresses me.  (Just good actors with good characters.  Annoying celebrities don't count.)
It ruins the illusion.
They should just be their characters all the time.

Maybe Virginia is a Commonwealth because we didn't want to have a "State of the State" Address.

The Phoenix, Knoebel's Grove, Pennsylvania.  AWESOME ROLLER COASTER.  It's an old wooden one with astonishing air time--the fifth highest in the country or something.  I spent a very large portion of that ride flying out of my seat, in a safe (probably) way.  If you ever have the chance, ride this classic.  Plus it's just a really good amusement park: their haunted house is actually kind of scary, or at least startling, in a very fun way (it ranked 2nd in the country, I think!?), the food is good, the park is gorgeous and shaded with lots of trees, it's very authentic and old, yet has enough new stuff to attract people who don't appreciate the history.  And it has an old wooden carousel (with a real carousel organ) that adults/older kids actually ride because you sit on the edge and try to grab rings from a dispenser, and if you get the brass one you get a free ride.  This is by far the most fun kind of merry-go-round ever.
I am an advertisement for my childhood vacations.

"Today in my office where I work as Director of Quality Assurance, we went to the beach for some reason that was never adequately explained. When we were there, our manager told us to eat hot coals. I thought that was a little bit untoward so I ate a fish. Then a woman I have literally never seen before in my entire life started talking very loudly about something involving Halpert. She was agitated, I’d say. From what I could guess, she was definitely on drugs of some kind, perhaps cocaine, or maybe ‘drines. Also, she is a knock-out. She reminds me of a young Daphne Du Maurier. Also, I stupidly ate the fishbones. I told myself “never again” after the last time, but then you turn around, and bam, they’re in my mouth. I also ate 55 hot dogs in 15 minutes, which is a world record."

OMG.  I love that show.
Creed is on crack.

Next year, Mark will be at latitude 41 degrees 17 minutes south, and I will be at 41 degrees 19 minutes north.  2 minutes is a difference of 2.3 miles.
:-)

WE'RE GRADUATING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So there's this scholarship contest but students vote for the essays, so click below and go vote for mine.  Whatever.  If you want to.

No need to read it!  Just vote for me, lj friends.  Why not?

<a href='http://www.collegetoolkit.com/ScholarshipContest/Vote.aspx?U=echowell'>

I'm hoping not to stay up too much later writing my Latin paper--but it woud be a sad thing if I didn't make one last late-night work post for the end of my high school days.  This is about four hours earlier than they usually come, but since I'm writing about how eternity is now, past, and future, and time is only what clocks measure, as Einstein said, that seems somewhat irrelevant.

So here I am, writing a paper.  I've only written two papers for English class all year, so my main essay work has been either in various applications for things or in Latin assignments, not that we write a whole lot in there.  It's been more like a philosophy class than a language class for the past couple of weeks, which has been interesting.

I've decided definitely not to apply for the Directed Studies program at Yale.  For one thing, the deadline for applications is tomorrow.  But also I wanted to take a Freshman Seminar program.

I don't use livejournal a whole lot these days.  I've never been big on actually putting my deep inside feelings down here, cryptically encoded or not, although I (like the rest of you) am glad to read other people's heart-outpourings and gain some insight into their selves.

In one week I'll be officially graduated from high school.  Assuming I graduate and don't forget to turn any books in or pay any obligations.  I think I paid my VTA bill, but I'll have to check...who is the bookkeeper?  Two k's or one?  One doesn't look like enough.  Anyway, people always talk about "The Bookkeeper" and I envision someone down in the darkest dungeons of the school, waiting for students to creep down there and pay their obligations.  Possibly this is a dragon or dinosaur (I'm envisioning a cross between a T-rex and a triceratops) who sits at a desk and eats you if you have bent the corners of your books.  In which case, I bid you all farewell.

I can't write a "looking back at high school" post.  Or an emotional "goodbye last four years" post.  Instead, I will end with a little bit of cursing and rambling insanity for old times' sake, and even though I'm feeling quite mellow, I'll try to make it sound sincere.

Fucking fuckas;dklfaj sl;fda Latin paper god why am I up so late writing this damn thing it's like eleven thirty at night (not as effective as FOUR FUCKING AM) and I'm writing a stupid latin paper and I cant' even think about what I' typing swriklharight now my fingers are just moving and sometimes they make words, there's like a filter to my brain that's been cut off or something and I am wjust tyuping nonsense for the sake of typing nonsense, to be honest.  I hate bsing this crap stupid tuspti dsschool what the fuck I'm just going on stream of consciousness, faulkner would be proud of me...or not...but a;slkfdaj s;ldkfj qpoie asl;k  (I just looked at the screen and a short while ago I wrote stupid tuspti.  WHAT.) shitshitshti why do I always put everything off until the ast seconD? It's the last night before the last day of school I hope (if I don't have to take ay exams) and I'[m writing a PAPER that I could've done last week.  Well, kid of could've done.  But still the point is this is about as last-minute as it GETS.  Correcting typos is obviously way too much effort.  FUCKING PAPER.

That took a lot of effort.  But it's worth it for you, my friends.

Love,
Emily

This has been bothering me for YEARS.
From page 696 of Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire:

"He said my blood would make him stronger than if he'd used someone else's," Harry told Dumbledore.  "He said the protection my--my mother left in me--he'd have it too.  And he was right--he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face."
For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore's eyes.  But next second, Harry was sure he had imagined it, for when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary as Harry had ever seen him.

What does that mean?

Parisa and I had this conversation once in a bookstore.
In unison: "Look, they have the new--
Emily: "Gossip Girl!"
Parisa: "Chabon!"

He did a Q&A last night in New York.  Parisa attended.  Beforehand, we discussed potential conversations.

chabon: yes, question?
parisa: hey. you're hot.
chabon:...and?
parisa: no, that's it.
chabon: fuck you.

chabon: yes? question?
parisa: can I call you chabby?
chabon: I hate you.

molatovcocktail:  why does he keep calling on me?!
molatovcocktail:  oh right. THE DISGUISES.
molatovcocktail:  i'll have to pack a few

chabon: yes, the man with the long nose, hunchback, and waist-length beard?
parisa: cecily von ziegesar, you sneaky tramp!
chabon: (weeps softly)