Giles: I watched Passions with Spike. Let us never speak of it.

You want irony? Here's irony:

I am, as y'all know, applying for a British Marshall Scholarship and a Fulbright Award. I have been filling out forms and writing essays, pointing to my generally high grades, to my column in the college paper, and to the tutorial I'm taking this semester in "Provocative Language." Oh, how I've dwelled on those last two points, in particular.

In the meantime, I've been so busy with the bloody scholarship stuff that all my classes are slipping, my column in the college paper has deteriorated into a series of ramblings about TV shows, and I haven't even started the tutorial. The very awards that are supposed to encourage my academic excellence are having the effect of sending it to hell in a handbasket.

I need Hermione's hourglass.

This is a longshot, but if any of you happen to have such a connection there, please let me know ASAP, okay? Thanks.

For those in my audience who don't read other journals, I should clarify that this isn't what it sounds like; rather, it's a mammoth message forum run by three journallers: Sara, Stee, and Beth. It turns out to be extremely addictive.

Among many other things, I've posted my opinions of this season's first and second episodes of Buffy and Angel; defended Batman and Robin while placing my vote for the worst movie ever; written one installment of a, umm, rather unusual round robin story; named my favorite characters from The Wheel of Time; posted an entirely hypothetical personal ad, which might apply if I were looking to change my single status, which I decidedly am not (what, me? defensive?); and listed my preferences and opinions in a great many areas, which includes what kind of underwear I wear. Not that it's a very interesting answer.

Who needs Real Life when you have the Web?

I'm gonna flunk painting, I think. Or maybe just get a C.

The only bright spot is my drama class, which has indeed turned out to be nice and easy, while still not devoid of interest, as it requires me to read a bunch of plays. The only catch is that the professor is a stickler for attendance, and I've been late to every class session but the first one. Usually about ten to fifteen minutes late, but an hour today. The professor brought this up during the break today, and I pledged to make it in on time from now on. Let's hope I manage it...

Back at the start of the semester, the professor noted that she'd be using most of our class fees to hire a model for a few sessions. She gave no details beyond that, and I was holding out hope that this would be a clothed model. Still, I figured, if it turned out otherwise, I'd manage. Maybe I'd even enjoy the experience.

Well, in class this past week she announced that we'd be having a model for the following two or three sessions, and that said model would be nude, and of the female persuasion. And that if any of us needed to be excused for either religious or personal reasons, we should see her privately. And I instantly knew that there was no question about what I had to do. So I saw her at the first available opportunity, and she'll be finding something else for me to do in those class periods.

I still haven't quite untangled my reasons, but whatever they are, my mind was pretty emphatic about the whole thing once confronted with the decision.

One thing's certain: deciding otherwise would definitely be crossing a line I haven't crossed yet. I've seen two-dimensional representations of naked bodies, but not the real thing. Since puberty, anyway. Aside from my own. And somehow, I'd just as soon keep it that way.

How much of this is motivated by religious concerns and how much is personal hangups is a question I don't know the answer to at this point. At least a little of both. That I'm pretty sure I ain't the only Jewish student in the class adds a factor to the equation too, I think.

There are many reasons why I'm not going. For one thing, I can't afford it. For another, it being over a weekend, I'd miss much of it anyway, as I wouldn't be participating on Shabbos. For a third, its final day is the eve of Yom Kippur. And then there are the matters of my disliking travelling, and my being somewhat antisocial. Put it all together, and there's no way I'd be going.

I do, however, have two reasons for wishing I were going, and those two reasons are Columbine and Erin. I want to meet both of them quite badly, and they're both gonna be there.

Columbine's in Boston, and is bound to make it back to New York eventually, so I can continue to wait for her. Erin, on the other hand, is over in Texas, and I don't know when or if we're ever gonna get together in Real Life. So I'm just a little bit bummed that I'm missing this opportunity.

Then again, the convention's gonna have lots and lots of people; too many to have a proper conversation with any of them, I suppose. I very much prefer one-on-one talks to large social gatherings. I don't wanna be one of ten people trying to talk to Columbine all at once; I wanna get her to myself for a long lunch. (Okay, schmoozing with both her and Debby would also be nice, but I draw the line beyond that.) So it's probably just as well.

Hey, Erin? Think you could convince your bosses to send you to a trade show in New York or something?

Not that I have any better ideas. The e-mail address it's forwarding the mail to isn't likely to last much longer (especially now that I've been informed that my sent-mail and other files will not be restored, and that those who told me otherwise were wrong all along), and I haven't gotten my mail to work properly on my Web-hosting account, which is, incidentally, the main hitch that's prevented me from officially moving this site over there.

Sigh.