German archaeologist kidnapped in Iraq

It's a dangerous life.

Santa Claus is coming to town...and he's bringing me a jaguar


Apparently Santa existed in Guatemala and was bringing people gifts long before he ever knew that Jesus guy.

This little guy is the subject of my art history paper. That's not actually my thesis though. I'm not that confident.

The end of another month. Time is spinning wildly out of control. Soon I'll be 21 - yikes - and it'll be 2006.

Until then, work. Davenport has a beautiful Christmas tree in the dining hall and another one in the common room, as well as lights strung around the hedges. Joy :)

This is the first time in a while I've had high expectations going into finals season. I remember last fall I was swamped in papers by this time; this year I only have one left. A friend of mine, lamenting the brevity of Thanksgiving break over breakfast, said that she hoped next year to take all classes with no final exams, and just stay home after Thanksgiving break, skip the last week of class, and complete papers via email. Seven weeks of break!!! Wow. Tempting indeed. Alas, assuming I take Spanish I won't have such a luxury. Hmm...I may have discovered the secret to happiness.

Finally back...stupid CT Limo
There was some leftover snow on the ground today! Winter already.

Tired.

CT Limo and New York are a bad combination. I guess that's why it's called Connecticut Limo and not New York Limo.

Watched the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on the plane. Definitely well-done and fun, and oozing with Burton. The weirdest thing was that in the middle there was this insanely sweet smell coming from the front part of the cabin and I could have sworn it was an ambiance-enhancing effect that came with the movie. Or maybe someone just went to Cinnabon beforehand.

I should have blogged over break. For some reason I only blog when I don't have time to. But if you've been watching the Daily Show and now the Colbert Report then you don't need my blathering. I at least owe everyone a Thanksgiving entry. So here goes: Thanks for reading my blog.

And now to bed.

30-24, and yet, somehow, joy?
You know, it's bad enough that Harvard has won The Game for five straight years now. Why did they have to lead us on this time? There's nothing like a 21-3 lead at halftime to lift the hearts of the crowd in blue, and nothing like a horrific second-half choke and a painfully fumbled three-overtime coda to break them.

It's not as if most Yalies really cared that much about winning The Game before it started. Surely the football team did, and the seniors, and the most devoted of fans and H-haters. But The Game is not really about football. It's about the cameraderie. The tailgates, more anticipated by some than that background noise of the action itself, were not dampened this year by the new restrictions; they were intensified. Beer was flowing, and -- for the sugar-craving, holiday-minded among us (read: me) --hard cider and hot chocolate with peppermint schnapps. And BBQ chicken and popcorn and apples and pie, and lots of mingling with those you scarcely see, and ogling the alumni tailgates (with their fine cheeses, champagne and rich desserts) from afar. The search across the stands for that beacon of belonging in the sea of windbitten faces, the Flag of Davenport, where your loyal friends, acquaintances, and people that today automatically become your friends and acquaintances have gathered in a huddle of black, white, and maroon - but Blue above all.

A word about D'port: We had the best flag waving. I have a friend in Saybrook who can attest to this. I got to take a turn waving the D'port flag, and it was great, though most of the credit goes to the boys. The Calhounies behind us were kind of annoyed because they were trying to see The Game and all they could se was the D'port flag. Hee hee. And we burst into so many rounds of our we-don't-need-no-stinkin'-cheer that people in the Silliman section in front turned around to look at how cool we were. (Though on a Harry Potter tangent, the YDN seems to think we're Slytherin. In the words of David Shieh, "It's so true, though.")

But back to the point. The Game is about having Fun and being Happy. Since Harvard doesn't know about Fun and Happy, they foolishly think The Game is about football. Which is why they decided it would be cool to come from behind and beat us. This was mean. If we had begun The Game behind and finished behind, we would have just kept on having Fun the whole time. But Harvard in its infinte Unfunness decided to make all of us, just for a minute, think it was about football. So we payed attention. We got SUPER into it. We talked about how we were totally going to win. We lost. Poo on you, Harvard. That's not Fun. That's crushing. Fortunately, I'm a Dodger fan, so I had a high tolerance for such disappointments.

But I had a great time today. We all did. Why? Maybe if you are from Harvard you wouldn't understand this: The Game is about feeling the D'port pride and the Yale spirit. Because no matter how much we insult Pierson, we're all Elis when the Crimson Cantabs (...need I say more?) show up claiming they're the best just because they've been around longer and live in a real city and have beaten us four years in a row. Um, no. News flash to Harvard: You're only better at football. You've got a misogynistic president, a ridiculous mascot, an evil color, lame parties, and annoying accents. And a ridiculous mascot. And most of all, school on Monday.

Signing out, from the Have'. Happy Thanksgiving break to Yale and to all a good night.

This is really last week's news, but I had to post it. Apparently several pro-life groups are attempting to boycott American Girl because of the company's links with a because of its affiliation with Girls Inc., a national organization dedicated "inspiring girls to be strong, smart and bold." The group's work includes drug prevention programs and education, but its pro-choice stance has landed it onthe conservatives' hit list.


I don't know. I think about the most conservative thing I ever did was play with American Girl dolls. Just look at the name: American Girl. Those stories taught girls to love not only fancy petticoats and authentic trundle beds, but also their country. How can you argue with that?

To me, American Girl takes me back to the golden days of Christmas. Back when you knew you were going to get something really, really wonderful you'd been staring at for months in catalogue pages. When you saw that burgundy and white packaging, that was it. Something you would spend more time setting up than you would using it - because dressing dolls and arranging the furniture is half the fun. I also think that was my most domestic, most traditionally feminine phase. And the part of me that loves those dolls really wants to get married and have a daughter so I can relive that indescribable joy.

So in a way, American Girl has influenced me to uphold the institution of marriage and embody the traditional aspects of womanhood. The conservatives should be satisfied.

My Results on the "Impossibly High Standards Test!"

Way Too Good Wowsa! You scored 74%!

Woah. Your feet don't even touch the ground, do they? I'm trying to think of funny things to say, but frankly, I'm pretty intimidated right now. Jesus.

My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender : You scored higher than 86% on superiority

Link: The Impossibly High Standards Test written by blcfilms on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

One month to go (with bonus NYT snippets)
The semester is drawing to a close. One more paper to touch up and turn in before The Game and Thanksgiving break. Then a week of relaxation, festive food, and preparing for another paper with museum visits. The last week of classes follows, ushering in the most beloved and dreaded time of all, Reading Week. A finished paper, a take-home final, a dance competition and a Christmas pageant later, the exam week attacks in full force. But I will be ready. In 33 days the fall term will be over and I'll be snug in my bed, with visions of Christmas and stuff in my head.

Here are some tasty morsels from the Times.

-An optimistic profile of the women of Air America, Randi Rhodes and Rachel Maddow.

-Paul McCartney, who my mother and I have decided should be the first cloned human, sang to the space station crew, marking the first time live music has been broadcasted into space.

-Finally, an interesting article on the history of controversy behind Narnia and the implications for the upcoming film series. I'll write more about this later I think.

Then and now...
By the way, as I was writing the last entry, Bob Dylan's song "Masters of War" came on and it reminded me so much of the Cheney-Rumsfeld-Wolfowitz brigade that I just had to post it. Dylan was a prophet.

Come you masters of war
You that build all the guns
You that build the death planes
You that build the big bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks.

You that never done nothin'
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it's your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly.

Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain.

You fasten the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you set back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
As young people's blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud.

You've thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain't worth the blood
That runs in your veins.

How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I'm young
You might say I'm unlearned
But there's one thing I know
Though I'm younger than you
Even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do.

Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul.

And I hope that you die
And your death'll come soon
I will follow your casket
In the pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I'll stand o'er your grave
'Til I'm sure that you're dead.

At last we will have revenge.
And I mean that in the nicest, most forgiving, peace-loving, democratic way. Kind of.

Election day was kind of like a party for the left. And the middle, for that matter. And really for the country, because its clear NOBODY likes what's happening in Washington.

There were too many Democratic victories to really discuss, but since I'm partial to my home state of California, I'll take a moment to revel in the public's repudiation of the Governator's ballot measures. Arnold probably thought a "special election" would be a good idea, since that's how he ended up in office in the first place. WRONG! I must say, I'm still flabbergasted that he's our governor. You would think that after Ronald Reagan Californians would have learned their lesson regarding movie stars. But alas, I forget that most people are terribly stupid.

Although...I have to say this election has restored a teeny bit of my faith in democracy. Another sign of hope: in Dover County, PA, all eight Intelligent Design proponents on the school board that caused so much trouble last year got voted out of office. YAY!!!! Stupid people are going away! Even the stupid people are voting against the stupid people. It's too bad we don't have a chance to depose Bush in 2006, but the Congressional races are looking more and more promising. Poor Bush. I actually am starting to feel sorry for him now. I mean, has a single good thing happened in the twelve months since he was reinstalled (no I will not say reelected, that's a joke)? Even his own stupid people are starting to doubt him. I think Bush's existence itself disproves Intelligent Design.

Here's to Dems, Cali, and real freedom.