September 25th, 2012


Sunset Appointments

I got home at 7:30pm last night to see a blog entry by Neil Gaiman saying he was doing a surprise reading in San Diego at 7pm at an Amanda Palmer concert. I didn't even know Amanda Palmer was in town--it's too bad, I'd have liked to have gone, especially since they were at the House of Blues, a venue I saw Palmer at before and a nice one. Though I couldn't afford it this week, especially--I only have twenty dollars to get me through the week. I also couldn't go because I had to take this picture;

I have to observe the sunset four days over the course of a month for my astronomy lab. It was hard to find a place in San Diego where the horizon was visible--there're lots of hills around here and I can't afford to drive to the beach for each of these observations. I found a place relatively close to my college and waited around yesterday after my class got out at 3:15pm for sunset, which was at 6:40pm. I looked for work in the meantime--I actually filled out an application at See's Candy. I wonder if there's actually a chance in hell of me getting a job there. And if I do, will my teeth survive? They're bad enough now.

Class involved discussion on the differences between the philosophies of John Winthrop and Henry David Thoreau. I led my group's discussion again--I like my teacher, I've had him for several classes, my only peeve with him is that he has us do group work every--single--class. I'm the sort who prefers to just soak in a lecture. But I found myself babbling about the dissociated Puritan ego--that's why I found Anne Bradstreet so hilarious. 90% of her poetry is about how awesomely humble she or her friends or her family are. For people who are supposed to be humble, she uses the word "ambition" a lot, things like how it was her father's "ambition" to reach the higher form of existence known as heaven. Combined with the simple, consistent rhyme scheme and alliteration, I suddenly started hearing her stuff being delivered by Eminem in my head and I couldn't stop. It is gangsta rap levels of posturing, making me wonder how much Americans have really changed in the three hundred years since Bradstreet lived.

Anyway. Enjoy this sap;