Quasi una Fantasia

May 31st, 2012 at 4:48AM

I do. It was the 21st of October, 2007. The night before I went to bed at approximately 10.15pm and fell into a deep slumber almost instantly. I woke up the next morning refreshed and ready for the day ahead knowing that I had had plenty of sleep. I will never forget that slumber for as long as I live.

(via thedaysgoslowlyby)

62,343 notes Source: thingsmakemehappy

May 30th, 2012 at 5:00AM

Well there goes half my degree

This afternoon the University of Canterbury Council considered proposals to discontinue to offer the American Studies, Cultural Studies, and Theatre & Film Studies programmes, and to discontinue offering a number of courses in Management Sciences focused on Operations Research.

This followed significant periods of consultation (eight weeks for the College of Arts programmes) during which the University received a number of internal and external submissions including a petition, held staff and student fora, provided opportunities to meet with students individually and in groups, and held a special meeting of the Academic Board to formulate its advice to Council. Another subcommittee of Council, the Finance, Planning and Resources Committee, was given access to all the submissions, minutes and proposals so that it might also formulate advice.

After considering this advice and recommendations from the relevant pro-vice-chancellors, and hearing submissions in person from staff and student representatives Council voted in favour of discontinuing the American Studies programme and discontinuing a number of courses in Management Sciences. The Council voted against discontinuing Cultural Studies, and Theatre & Film Studies programmes.

As a major in American Studies, this is quite irritating. At least I still have Music to fall back on.

1 note #University of Canterbury #American Studies

May 29th, 2012 at 11:34PM

Currently at: Procrastination Station.

My train is late, again. One really cannot rely on train timetables nowadays; it’s going to be a big rush to get to my end point on time. I have no doubt that I will get to my destination, the trains that take me away from this God foresaken station run pretty fast and are flexible for my needs. Needless to say my needs are larger than ever before, but I have faith that I will get on the tracks at some point in the next few hours and not get off.

But now just to wait for my ticket out of here…

1 note #lol #extended metaphor #train #procrastination #station #essay #university

May 27th, 2012 at 11:54PM

1,218 notes Source: thefuuuucomics

May 27th, 2012 at 11:53PM

Misty looked at Ash, his breathing still heavy from carrying her on his bike as fast as he could through the long grass outside of Pallet Town.
“You’re eyes are impossibly huge and black,” Misty said. “Your hair is… incredibly pointy, and doesn’t need product. Your face changes size and shape based on your feelings… and sometimes you speak like - like you’re from the 90’s. You never spend money on anything; you don’t go to the bathroom.”
The silence hung there, thick and heavy like a Snorlax blocking the bike path.
“How old are you?” Misty asked, not sure if she wanted to know.
“Ten,” Ash replied, with a slight smirk and an almost amused tone.
Misty new that wasn’t true. Ash wasn’t like the other boys her age. He wasn’t even like her older sisters who ran the gym in Cerulean City. He was wiser and his passion was genuine.
Ash didn’t just want to catch them all, he needed to. He was going to be the best there ever was no matter how long it took, which gave Misty this nagging in the back of her mind. She had to know for sure.
“How long have you been ten?” she asked. Her voice weak, knowing full well the answer could change everything she thought she knew.
“A while…” Ash said. His voice trailing off, as if he were losing himself in a flood of memories.
Misty let out a faint gasp. She knew now. She was certain.
“I know what you are,” she declared, as if whatever had been holding her back from accepting the truth, finally let go of her hand and let her fall right down the Diglett hole.
Ash eyes were alive now, flickering like the flame on a Charmander’s tale.
He stared right into her and said, ”Say it… out loud. Say it.”
Misty’s heart was pounding louder than the thud of a Marowak’s bone club attack.
Despite the now eerily silent meadow, she could barely be heard as she whispered, “Pokemon Trainer.”

Misty looked at Ash, his breathing still heavy from carrying her on his bike as fast as he could through the long grass outside of Pallet Town.

“You’re eyes are impossibly huge and black,” Misty said. “Your hair is… incredibly pointy, and doesn’t need product. Your face changes size and shape based on your feelings… and sometimes you speak like - like you’re from the 90’s. You never spend money on anything; you don’t go to the bathroom.”

The silence hung there, thick and heavy like a Snorlax blocking the bike path.

“How old are you?” Misty asked, not sure if she wanted to know.

“Ten,” Ash replied, with a slight smirk and an almost amused tone.

Misty new that wasn’t true. Ash wasn’t like the other boys her age. He wasn’t even like her older sisters who ran the gym in Cerulean City. He was wiser and his passion was genuine.

Ash didn’t just want to catch them all, he needed to. He was going to be the best there ever was no matter how long it took, which gave Misty this nagging in the back of her mind. She had to know for sure.

“How long have you been ten?” she asked. Her voice weak, knowing full well the answer could change everything she thought she knew.

“A while…” Ash said. His voice trailing off, as if he were losing himself in a flood of memories.

Misty let out a faint gasp. She knew now. She was certain.

“I know what you are,” she declared, as if whatever had been holding her back from accepting the truth, finally let go of her hand and let her fall right down the Diglett hole.

Ash eyes were alive now, flickering like the flame on a Charmander’s tale.

He stared right into her and said, ”Say it… out loud. Say it.”

Misty’s heart was pounding louder than the thud of a Marowak’s bone club attack.

Despite the now eerily silent meadow, she could barely be heard as she whispered, “Pokemon Trainer.”