Good intentions

Two new ones.

 

Peppermint Narwhal

Good intentions

The end is nigh

I'm counting hours until the end of undergraduate classes forever and ever and ever. This is beyond strange. It hasn't been four years. They're lying to me. My cap and gown are stashed away in my sock drawer, still in their plastic because I'm scared to open them up. I walk in a month and two days.

Locked myself in and stayed up for a few days this week staring at this screen and contemplating my thesis with a growing sense of existential horror. Sort of like this, but silently and in a library. I am cautiously optimistic, however. If I keep going long enough, it is statistically probable that I will produce a work of profound insight and great intellectual beauty:

Easter

As Zombie Awareness Week draws to a close, we celebrate the miraculous restoration of the three-day old corpse of an ancient Palestinian cult leader, moldering in the desert heat, to glorious, malodorous life. To commemorate this holy occasion, we eat candy in the shapes of pagan symbols of fertility and lust: eggs, chicks, and bunnies (as in, to fuck like ____ ).

It took me a long time to realize that this fluffiest of holidays – we got to eat Peeps and stay home from school – was actually about sex and death and zombies. We hide the truth under cloying pastel colors and magical anthropomorphic bunnies, but the story of Jesus rising from the grave and then marrying his own still-virginal mother is actually interesting. And morbid and horrifying and awesome.

Eminent internet scholars have written on the zombie Jesus hypothesis, and most agree that it is likely that he did once walk the Earth. Indeed, he may be lurching around still. Uncyclopedia records a fragment of the Apocrypha dealing with this version of the Resurrection:

It was as the subtle, burning glances of His onlooking Roman captors, the remorsefully sullen followers became more stricken with terror, fright, and penance that Zombie Jesus returned to this world, forcing his broken, tired limbs, blood-stained from the mortal wounds he had suffered, to pull his undead carcass from the rough hewn Cross so that he might seek the most appropriate Earthly sustenance deserved of the sacrificed son of God: a crimson river of Flesh and Brains to satiate his heavenly hunger.

I leave you with an earworm, composed on the fly by friend and praetorian guard Nate. It goes to the tune of “I Saw Three Ships”, and should be sung with enthusiasm in public places, preferably in two or three-part harmony.

The Virgin Mary and Zombie Christ

On Easter Day, on Easter Day

The Virgin Mary and Zombie Christ

On Easter Day in the morning!

Back to it

I'm back from spring break, sunburned, certified for scuba adventures and thoroughly satisfied. I slept for about two days after I stumbled off the bus, and now I think I'm ready for the next few weeks. And it is only weeks now. One week until grad school apps are due, a few more weeks until the thesis (currently in embryonic form) is due, and only a few weeks after that until graduation.

My semester thus far has been an easy ride: work hard all day, then home for painting and beer all night. The next while is going to involve a lot less painting and a lot more typing. Thinking, even. And probably less beer. Alas.

On the bright side, it is currently 60 degrees and sunny out.

Spring break

A week's hiatus begins tomorrow! Down to Florida for sweet beach time and finally getting my scuba certification. Sixteen hours there - five people in a little sedan - then several days of sunny 75 degree weather, laying in the sun with frosty beverages, diving, and bumming around with good people. I have been looking forward to this for a long time.