11.20.2009
11.19.2009
11.18.2009
Prof. Keenbean's Smellmaster 9000
Yesterday I walked into the women's restroom and smelled the deodorant I used to wear in 7th grade. I immediately looked down at my socks. Or nylons, since I rarely wear socks these days.
7th Grade. Gym class. Snotty, beanpole of a blonde chic we'll call AL. Everyday Al would make fun of me for wearing mismatching socks. Every. Day. The repetition gives you a small hint of her intelligence level. But I was what...13? Incredibly sensitive to teasing, I would feign nonchalantness by making my own snarky retort with the excuse that I was just too cool to match my socks. Ha. Take that popular girl. I'm cool.
Obviously scarred for life, I write this in a pair of matching socks. It's one of the few insecurities I carry with me from my schooling experience. The other? I will always be scared to death that someone will make a mess in the play kitchen and I'll get in trouble for it. OCD explained.
11.12.2009
Man is but a patched fool
I read a speech written by my Women's Lit Prof today. She opens with "Although English studies is a varied and complex discipline, those of us who work under the aegis of the English Department share many values. Whether we are poets, novelists, essayists, literary scholars, composition specialists, teachers, folklorists, or rhetoricians, we are all writers" (Howe 8).
So I wanted to write a blog about how, despite the "English Major" on my transcript, I'm not a writer. But, that's lame. And self-absorbed. And downright whiney.
Instead, there are some blogs with some great writing out there that I'd really like to commend.
We Can All Have Secret Blogs. I follow this blogger religiously. Although few of words, the wit sends me rolling every time. With no care for capitalization, it's strictly stream of consciousness. In the corniest, most honest way I can put it.... the brown river- it ain't no lazy river. (+ she plucks a mean eyebrow)
Call me Siouxsie. Queen of creativity (please see Fleur & Feather), B. tells the best story. 'Though I've had but a glimpse of her glorious workplace, I'm always ready for another HBH, Dallas, or Donetta escapade.
Quiet Smitches. ....I just wish this could be a blog with a million recordings of her laugh.
Born Free. Two words: Geeky keen.
Ah. This procrastination has served its purpose, and, inspired by all my favorite writers, I'm now ready.
Hello Othello.
So I wanted to write a blog about how, despite the "English Major" on my transcript, I'm not a writer. But, that's lame. And self-absorbed. And downright whiney.
Instead, there are some blogs with some great writing out there that I'd really like to commend.
We Can All Have Secret Blogs. I follow this blogger religiously. Although few of words, the wit sends me rolling every time. With no care for capitalization, it's strictly stream of consciousness. In the corniest, most honest way I can put it.... the brown river- it ain't no lazy river. (+ she plucks a mean eyebrow)
Call me Siouxsie. Queen of creativity (please see Fleur & Feather), B. tells the best story. 'Though I've had but a glimpse of her glorious workplace, I'm always ready for another HBH, Dallas, or Donetta escapade.
Quiet Smitches. ....I just wish this could be a blog with a million recordings of her laugh.
Born Free. Two words: Geeky keen.
Ah. This procrastination has served its purpose, and, inspired by all my favorite writers, I'm now ready.
Hello Othello.
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