Clap your hands!

The BBC says many Thai people are lately really tired of clapping their hands. So tired (or lazy) that plastic hand clappers are a reasonable and suddenly fashionable substitute for actually clapping one's hands.

Are they attending a lot of performing arts events or something?


BREAKING: rampant use of ironic headlines renders them less funny

An unsolicited style note from a neurotic Strunk & White reader:

Not that I didn't use this witty strategy myself back in ye olde Clogging days, but seeing as the Clog failed to publicly archive any posts from the time I was actually working, I can't prove the infraction upon its use I've observed in recent weeks. (And, more importantly, neither can they.)

I'm talking about headlines. Breaking! Important! Ironically important BREAKING NEWS that isn't really breaking but is sort of funny anyway because the subject of the article is painfully and hilariously so obvious that the article itself would clearly be less funny if the painfully and hilariously obvious nature of the article wasn't alluded to in the headline.

Only under the aforementioned circumstances should such a headline be invoked, and only sparingly for optimal effect.

The judging the former is up to the reader, but the latter? Twice in one week is sort of pushing it.


Choking on the sweet, sweet air of freedom

I already have spring fever, and nothing confirmed this more than my sheer glee while registering for classes (classes I'm not terribly interested in taking) for the last time in my undergraduate career. It's not that I'm particularly looking forward to moving on or finding a job or paying my loans, so much as I'm just really, really over the whole "school" thing.

In other news, I still have no idea what to do with my life, and I have a paper due tomorrow. As typifies my behavior as a quasi-jaded senior, I have neither finished the reading nor started writing.


A mid-midterm evening

My first night without rehearsal or performances since September 2, and I'm spending it writing a paper for the director of the play I'm about to finish this weekend.

I don't know what's different-- maybe senioritis, maybe complacency, or maybe being just plain tired-- but I am so much less motivated to write this darned thing than any class I've been in while in college.

Frankly, I'm cool as a cucumber about having finished less than 2 pages in the nine hours before it's due. I know I should feel the pressure soon, the pressure that kicks me into a writing frenzy and cranks out 7 pages in a matter of hours. Deep down I know I want to do a good job, but just above that deep down feeling is a general wash of apathy.