Sleep is nice. Without it, my brain becomes a horrible boggy swamp through which only the most persistent of thoughts may crawl, gasping, to the muddy roiling shores of my consciousness. So naturally I try to get at least 6 hours of sleep a day. More is better. Wednesdays are my savior, because I get double first free then extra help and saunter into school at 9:30 or so instead of 7:50 like usual.
Today, thanks to the extraordinarily pleasant non-anally-violating goodness of a diffeq test that is worth approximately 30% of my semester grade, I decided to get plenty of extra sleep and came in at about 9:25 am, slightly ahead of time so that I could review section 3.6 once more before the big crunch. The hallways were deserted. Must be an alternate schedule. And then I remembered: THE MIT LOGS ARE PERFORMING THIS WEEK. I dropped my backpack, ran to the gym, and sat in the very back so as not to attract unwanted attention from cranky decaffeinated teachers eager to hand out detentions. Hm, bad idea. I could barely see the tops of their heads milling around in front of the stage. They were still introducing themselves ("W, mechanical engineering." "X, computer engineering." "Y, nuclear engineering!" [faint cheers from the audience] "Z, ROCKET SCIENCE!" [the crowd goes wild]) and I was sort of awkwardly sitting there way way in the very back corner of the gym, craning my neck over the taller Asians' heads while trying to pick out the face of Sham's stalkee as I'd promised.
And then they sang and it was beautiful. I'm not going to attempt to confine the pure auditory bliss to the feeble constructs of the English language. Except that we got rickrolled unexpectedly, and for once, it was pretty good.
When they moved on from eargasms to Q&A, Harker went straight to the point. The Logs didn't answer the question about their high school GPAs. Most of them did, however, raise their hands when some girl in the front asked if they were single. (Go for it, MIT12.) Then we all descended upon the stage in a fangirling blizzard of excitement and purchased their CDs. I exchanged like three lines of conversation with a probably half-asian Log, by which point I was still reeling from their intense aura of awesomeness but had also realized that no, I could not possibly do them all, not even for the sake of the MIT12 chat. Thus I leave this arduous task to you, fellow 12ers.
See you at CPW.
Okay, if a Log actually reads this, a lot of it is sarcasm, I'm not that creepy.
Showing posts with label stalkers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label stalkers. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
intravenous turkey refuse
(crossposted from my personal blog)
When I first discovered MIT, I got myself hooked on the MITblogs right away. Like an IV drip straight to the vein (although aren't they all? I guess you could miss), they nourished me with the life-giving anecdotes upon which stalkers feed. Their subtly sarcastic humor pulled me through the churning whitewaters of high school. When I had to stay up until 2 am to finish an APUSH essay that I started reading the prompt for at my usual bedtime, the MITbloggers coincidentally pulled all-nighters that night for their thesis papers or whatever, and then I would feel better about never having actually pulled an all-nighter because I would probably get my fair share of those in college. When I was all depressed about that B-prus test in Engrish, the MITbloggers assured me that life was okay, because they were getting C's on their midterms and even though MIT was way harder than high school I wasn't a loser at life. When I spent sleepless nights worrying whether MIT would defer me or just reject me outright, Ben Jones ranted uncontrollably about his overwhelming love for the applicant pool and its awesomeness, and I felt better inside.
Oh, MITblogs. I love them all, but Mitra and Sam were my favorites to read, and considering that they were pretty obviously dating, well, that just made them more awesome.
But all good things must come to an end. As mournfully chronicled by the MIT'12 chatroom, Sam made his Last MIT Blog Post Ever earlier this week. We modulo Sham would have cried, had it not been for our cultish secret: we know about his new blog.
Don't worry, Sam Maurer. We're watching you.
(Not really. But I mean, I don't know what the others are doing, so no guarantees.)
When I first discovered MIT, I got myself hooked on the MITblogs right away. Like an IV drip straight to the vein (although aren't they all? I guess you could miss), they nourished me with the life-giving anecdotes upon which stalkers feed. Their subtly sarcastic humor pulled me through the churning whitewaters of high school. When I had to stay up until 2 am to finish an APUSH essay that I started reading the prompt for at my usual bedtime, the MITbloggers coincidentally pulled all-nighters that night for their thesis papers or whatever, and then I would feel better about never having actually pulled an all-nighter because I would probably get my fair share of those in college. When I was all depressed about that B-prus test in Engrish, the MITbloggers assured me that life was okay, because they were getting C's on their midterms and even though MIT was way harder than high school I wasn't a loser at life. When I spent sleepless nights worrying whether MIT would defer me or just reject me outright, Ben Jones ranted uncontrollably about his overwhelming love for the applicant pool and its awesomeness, and I felt better inside.
Oh, MITblogs. I love them all, but Mitra and Sam were my favorites to read, and considering that they were pretty obviously dating, well, that just made them more awesome.
But all good things must come to an end. As mournfully chronicled by the MIT'12 chatroom, Sam made his Last MIT Blog Post Ever earlier this week. We modulo Sham would have cried, had it not been for our cultish secret: we know about his new blog.
Don't worry, Sam Maurer. We're watching you.
(Not really. But I mean, I don't know what the others are doing, so no guarantees.)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)