Why I'm Sometimes Silent in Class

It's not that I don't care about the book—it's that I care too much. That it feels blasphemous to discuss it before I've finished reading it. That some books shouldn't be subjected the inane questions and answers of barely-awake teenagers. That to try to analyze this particular novel would be relegating it to a homework list when it belongs to something so much better.

The Perfect Man?

Heart and personality of Marshall Eriksen, brain and looks of Ted Mosby, humor and, uh, vitality of Barney Stinson.

I think yes.

Verbose Volumes

This semester, I go from 821-page David Copperfield in Class #1 to 560-page Midnight's Children Class #2 to 682-page Jane Eyre in Class #2... and then 560-page Midnight's Children in Class #1. I must also trudge through most chapters of a 656-page history book.

If I make it through, I think I might deserve a medal.

Self vs. Others vs. Self

Funny how all my classes this semester have me examining other people's identities, when the one I need to be focusing on at the moment is my own.

More Like "Wept-ember"!*

The crisp beauty of September is always ruined by the swamp of work. Couldn't you once let us enjoy the fading days of summer so well complemented by the coloring of the leaves, o gods of higher education?

*This is a terrible title. I don't apologize.

Highways and Byways

Thank God for interstate rest stops and 99-cent Arizona iced tea cans.

Misheard Lyrics

For the longest time, I thought Santana's version of "Black Magic Woman" used the lyrics "Blacken my diploma."

True story.

How I Spent (Thirty Minutes of) My Summer

Talking about dual-flush toilets.

(Which are actually one of the most ingenious ideas I've ever heard. I can't believe I've never thought of the concept before.)

I've Got a New Drug

Speed Scrabble is the crack cocaine of word games.
This is irrefutable.

(Apparently it's the poor man's Bananagrams. This gal's only got room for one fruit-based lark in her repertoire, and that's Apples to Apples.)

The Seven Stages of Man Could Well Be Shortened to Six

I'm certainly not of the "live fast, die young" variety, but I don't think I want to be the owner of the Costco cart filled with extra-large Depends, either.

Stop! Sexy Time!

In my hometown there is a stop sign that has been grafitied to read "Try for a baby."

I wonder how many children were conceived this year after their parents came to a halt at an intersection.

I Sing My Heart Out to the Infinite Sea

Microsoft Word's thesaurus just returned "cry" and "noise" as synonyms for "song."

Is Bill Gates secretly a philistine?

Here Comes the Bride, A Decade in Advance

Would it be terribly gauche of me to wear Converses to my own wedding?
I did in my dream last night, but I can't remember if that drew any strange stares as I walked toward the man I have yet to meet.

We did, however, flop down on a bed in disbelieving childish giggles before returning to the reception to eat tiered lemon cake.

(A flower garden in May or an elegent library* in September.)


*Perhaps a flash-back to our first date?

...I have got to stop reading these things.

A Question

"How did you grow, as a person?"

What the hell else would I be growing as?! A garden? A piglet? A slime mold?
Stupid interview preparation suggestions.

You Know You're Living In a Special Part of the Country When...

...instead of presumably illegal immigrants, the guys helping lay a new sidewalk are Amish.

Top Five Musician-Inspired Names That I Might Bestow Upon My Future Children...

...So That They'll Have Good Answers to the Inevitable "Are You Named After Anyone?" Question

Sons

1. Dylan (as in Bob)
2. Graham (as in Nash)
3. Jude (as in "Hey")
   
4. Arlo (as in Guthrie)
5. Garfunkel (as in Art) ...except not really.
   

Daughters

1. Melissa (as in the Allman Brothers song)
2. Natalie (as in Merchant)
3. Laurel (as in the famous canyon)
4. Judy Blue Eyes (as in "Suite")
   
5. Magnolia (as in "Sugar") ...except not really.
   

Words, Words, Words

Fact: The bigger the book in front of you but the smaller the text, the more scholarly you feel.

I've got a 1910-page Shakespeare concordance. You can just hand me my doctorate now.


And in this concordance, printed in 1937, I espied a typographical error: "...ay, there's the rnb..."
An upside-down "u"! (Though I suppose technically it's really just an "n.")

...shut up. I think it's funny.

Spring Has Sprung (I Open My Lungs)

I might have the motivation to buckle down and research if I could only forget that at this very moment, crocuses are pushing their way out of soil sleep.

Not a Barefoot Contessa

Okay, really?
Are you really going to change the television above our respective elliptical machines to the Food Network, of all channels?
Yes, you are?
Are you a sadomasochist? I feel like I'm running up Mount Everest in hundred-degree weather in a vain attempt to shave fat off my protruding stomach, and you're going to make me watch chocolate truffles being made?
This is too much.

You've driven me to buy a smoothie downstairs—and just before she finished the tiramisu!

Psychology Doesn't Balance

You'd think that having simultaneous superiority and inferiority complexes would result in a well-adjusted and happy person.

This is, frustratingly, not the case.