The last time I took a written exam, the kind that makes you queasy, was 10 years ago. It was for an elective, Anthropology 140 (Folklore), and I was tipsy from the couple of beers I had over lunch in Krus na Ligas. I barely winged it, but if I knew then that it would be the last, I would have studied harder, made my handwriting more graceful and my thesis statement more coherent. I miss it, the surprises quizzes, the long-winding essays, the defense of an idea. SO now, I try to fill out as many personality quizzes as I can just for the sheer pleasure of checking boxes.
(Thanks, starshuffler, for the Buffy quiz. Wesley and I, meant to be.)
Not So Manic Now
Older and more melodic, the new Manic Street Preachers release, "Lifeblood," is, to borrow another album title, romantic depressive. It's just amazing how a song on Richard Nixon can be so catchy and bittersweet like suddenly remembering a long weekend in the middle of a meeting. Songs like a secret smile. Almost happy, almost there. Almost victorious. If I were Billy Bragg, I'd be taking down notes.