Win

I'm sure you've heard all about the Jayhawks this week. Damn, what at time to be at KU!

Now, I've never experienced the KU basketball frenzy in person. I grew up a KU fan. I even secretly cheered for KU while I was at K-State (shhh). But nothing prepared me for the night KU beat UNC in the Final Four. Yes, Roy Williams was the legendary coach at KU for fifteen years before he up and left for North Carolina. Yes, KU fans have held a grudge against him ever since. And for KU, the current team under Bill Self, to beat Roy's team? Well, that was some payback, some sweet redemption for these Jayhawk fans. Personally, I have no grudge against Roy Williams. I remember being utterly disappointed when he left KU, but, come on, it's his life and his career, and it wasn't like KU basketball would go under under some other coach (nor did it.)

I watched the KU - UNC game from home, reading Dr. Atkins's new book during timeouts and halftime. It was quite exciting, of course, when we won. But then I heard screaming outside. Within the first minute after the game was over, people all around the apartment complex and neighborhood were outside screaming. I had no idea what was going on, but then there was a constant roar coming from Mass St. I watched from my patio as people streamed from their homes and flocked toward Mass. Constant cars honking. Constant whoops. After about twenty minutes of me on the phone with Jedsen, trying to relate the craziness, I decided to don my sneakers and partake. I jogged down to 9th street, a block north, and joined the processional. People were hanging out of their cars, headed toward Mass. Flags were flying. High fives between strangers. Rock Chalk chants broke out. Everyone was a friend. Everyone was celebrating. It was overwhelming and inutterably exciting. It kept up--all the screaming, honking, chanting, high fives, all the way to the mass at 9th and Mass. Really, you had to be there. I heard later that there were 20,000 people down Mass St. I was there for maybe 15 minutes, just taking it all in. I thought that may be the only time I'd ever get to take part in such a celebration.

Until Monday.

No Djok

Sunday afternoon. Easter. Pacific Life Open Men's Final. Productivity.

This is just about the most un-Easter Easter I've ever had. But let me tell you it's been nice. We're approaching the end of spring break, that week of the spring semester when I tend to work more hours and stress about what has to be done in the next month and a half of the semester. It's been no different this time. I got to spend a lot of time with Jedsen, which is wonderful--we hardly ever have luxurious time to together. I worked only about 24 hours this break, which is nearly half of the usual forty hour haul when I don't have the other obligation of class to pull me away. Yet, still, I'm exhausted. I haven't had any time to just be. Be be be. My chest, constantly since I can't remember when, is tight. I'm nervous. Always. I can't catch up with myself, with life, with my responsibilities.

I had a lovely day yesterday with family in Manhattan. I love my family, my extended family. My aunts. My cousins. My brother. My grandma. The only troublemaker is my mom. She didn't make trouble yesterday, just frustration and quizical expressions of absurdity on the part of everyone else. Anyway, yesterday was great--just exhausting on top of my previous exhaustion and lack of sleep. I slept in till 10:30 today. Holy cow, 10:30! I just let myself rest until I was done. That never happens. I'm still tired, still nervous, but I've managed to finish my novel for Wednesday's class early and come up with a complex, interesting paper topic for my World War I literature class. I can't tell you how good that feels: to actually finish something early, to get started on something early. Still to do? Plenty, but today's accomplishments certainly help.

Another recent obsession: online apartment searching. When I moved here last summer, I just assumed I'd stay in this same apartment for my entire duration in Lawrence. I mean, why would I move if I didn't have to? But, slowly, I have become dissatisfied with these 540 square feet. I am a lover of natural light. Of windows. Of nighttime glows. Of open windows. Here, I have old windows, patio-shaded windows, air-seeping windows, that give me zero direct sunlight. Zero. It can be the middle of the sunniest afternoon, and if I want to read in the living room, I have to turn on a light. Also, my living/dining room is all in one, is all too small, is also my office, is oh so cramped. I need more space. Also, I'm paying $530 a month (including cable/internet) plus $25 a month to have a cat. Plus, I have to pay a monthly water/trash bill of $30 and gas and electric. That's, ha, a lot. For little. Now, I have to do the math, but if I can find a bigger place with fewer utilities and fees to pay, I'm there. Granted, the best part about this place is that it's two blocks from campus: no campus parking troubles because I always walk. But, I think I'd rather have to park on campus than not be happy in my home for the next two years. I'll keep you updated. I don't want to move--I was really looking forward to not having to stress about moving for the first time in three years this summer. But I think it would be worth it if I can find a happier, sunnier place. :)

I wish it were warm. Then I could sit on my patio. At my little table and chairs.

Mardy Fish. Who knew? He's been around as long as Roddick and Blake, but he just hasn't had those breakthrough moments (other than at the 2004 Olympics). Here it is. Hopefully he can pull off the upset again and win the Pacific Life Open. Man would that be great. I like Djokovic and all, but he can win all of the Grand Slams later on if he wants.

How many mothers hate their daughter's boyfriend? How many of those same mothers instantly fall in love the boyfriend of their 14-year old neice that they've never met?

There's a Snickers in my lap.

My brother's going to prom! He's going to prom!

Look for me in Tuesday's Lawrence.com. I was interviewed about books while working at the Dusty Bookshelf. I was nervous. People assume that if you work at a bookstore you know every author and have read every book. Um, no.

I think I'm done here. I think it's on to Annie Dillard. Ah, Annie Dillard, you're amazing.

Writers at the Oscars

Yay for Cormac McCarthy! How fantastic is he?! Where's his Oscar, huh?

And YAY for Diablo Cody! Still haven't seen Juno, but I will. She's a woman. And she won for best original screenplay at the Academy Awards. Hoorah!