[Tuesday, Dec 8th]

So I'm on this new kick where I number my webpages. Because it got to the point where I really couldn't remember which was called which and what should logically continue from what. What page I had last done. This one is No. 2. Because the last one was No. 1. Not to be confused with No. 1 London, which is a postal address, as opposed to a URL. I used to know what URL stood for, but I've forgotten. There are only so many things a girl can remember. If you know what URL stands for, please do NOT email me here. Because, frankly, I could care less.

However, I have decided to have organization in this webpage. I have recently been elected Social Chair of my eating club, which means I get to book all the bands. It also means I have to listen to all the fricking promo CDs, but whatever we move on. A third ramification of said election is that I have acquired a second email address:


To email Nick and me (the Campüs Club Gossip Chairs) with details on something scandalous, use this address:


I am the email woman now. I go, girl.

In any event, I have decided to become Organized. This is a huge decision, and one that has been very painful for me. I feel like I am abandoning my youth and selling my soul to Goldman Sachs. Fortunately, I am mature and self-confident enough to realize that my pathetic little attempt at order will disintegrate with comforting rapidity.

On which note: Enjoy it while it lasts.

A Guide to the Ordered [ie., early] Portions of my Old Tripod Webpage

Everything else.

When you think about future fame, you imagine that you assure yourselves a kind of immortality. But, if you consider the infinite extent of eternity, what satisfaction can you have about the power of your name to endure? If you compare the duration of a moment with that of ten thousand years, there is a certain proportion between them, however small, since each is limited. But ten thousand years, however many times you multiply it, cannot even be compared to eternity. Finite things can be compared, but no comparison is possible between the infinite and the finite. And so, however long a time fame may last, it must seem not merely brief but nothing at all if it is compared to eternity. —Boethius, 524AD

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