You can vote as many times as you want. Also, I’m not tracking IP addresses for this poll, so you can also be as anonymous as you want.
Remember that 46 days is a very long time. But it’s also a mastery length of time.
So maybe I woke up at 5:30 this morning and am now just a little bit slightly teensily hopped up on stimulants like caffeine and sugar and taurine and carnine or whatever they’re called and my French final is in about five hours and my iPod is pumping classical music into my ears and I’ve looked at the same practice exam a million times already and so now I’m looking through vocabulary and making lists of what I want to do in Australia and I’m also trying to speak to people in French and that might be a little annoying since not everyone knows or even likes to speak French but it’s a beautiful and lovely language but the language I’m not familiar with is Australian because it’s English but it’s not American and that country has an entirely different vernacular and so I hope to pick a lot of it up when I’m interacting with the Aussies and I thought about leaving my extended absence voicemail message in an Australian accent with maybe a kangaroo talking about how it kidnapped me and is keeping me in her giant pouch because I certainly could fit in one of those and maybe let a tiny joey sit on my ear or crawl on top of my face and lick my eyeballs but I don’t imagine Australia being too incredibly arid especially the part where I’m staying and so I did leave an extended absence voicemail and you should call my phone and listen to it because I sound pretty excited and braggy about going across the world and mom called and left a message and then I called her back and she told me to be careful like she always does but she felt surtout strongly because she’s a mom and I’m her daughter and I’m going to be very far away and I started to choke up a little when she said that and it was a nice tender moment and if you don’t have my phone number that’s probably because you shouldn’t have it because everyone I care about talking to has my number or knows someone who has it and can reach me pretty easily and the same goes with my personal email address which is different than this blog’s email address and while people are trying to be considerate and letting me study I can’t seem to focus for too long at once and that’s okay because there’s just so much time before I sit down for the final exam and I hope I don’t crash or blank out or get too confident about my ability to do well because that’s happened to me before and it would be nice to hear from people the day before I can’t literally hear from you for two weeks if you know what I mean donc n’es pas timide parce que j’aime vous parler et si vous n’aimez parler français nous pourrions parler anglais alors ce n’est rien et je vous aime et tout le monde et je crois que me parler m’aiderait à étudier.
Do the rest of you geniuses feel this way?
I may be starting my mid-life crisis a bit early.
It all started at the end of September when I bought the black skinny jeans with the glitter. Yes, those. First, they were on sale. Second, they were in my size. Third, I had decided to give skinny jeans another chance. The ones I had tried on before were cut funny and they didn’t fit right, which means they didn’t look right. Jeans are such a tricky creature. But I tried them on at the H&M (34th Street between 5th and 6th Avenues) and I stepped out of the dressing room and asked one of the male employees how they looked on me, and he seemed apathetic enough to be honest. So I got them. I figured I could return them; what fun is the impulse-buy otherwise?
I kept them. Partly because I like the way they fit, and mostly because the feedback has been pretty positive.
Okay, so I was window shopping a few weeks ago and my eye caught a vest that I liked but not enough to ignore the price tag. Plus, they didn’t have my size. But I tucked the idea away in a convenient pocket of my mind to be on the lookout for a vest.
This past weekend I was online shopping, and I saw a vest. THE vest. Better than the one I saw a few weeks ago. It was on sale, and they had XS available. I ordered it, and I couldn’t believe how excited I was. Maybe I just thought it would be funny to have a vest like this. Maybe I thought I might be able to rock it. Because I’m just that vain.
So the vest arrived today. I tried it on, looked at myself in the mirror. And it kind of made me giddy. It’s so ridiculous, I love it. I mean, the thing is faux leather with zippers and snaps and a belt at the waist, AND a detachable hood that has a drawstring. When I tried it on, I did nothing but zip and unzip and snap and unsnap and cinch the hood around my face for at least five minutes.
I also put on my skinny jeans, then I laughed.
Then I did a photo shoot of myself.
Then I laughed some more. This was fun.
And, I’m keeping the vest. 10 years ahead of time.
Hover your mouse over each picture to get some description. You can also click on each one to get a bigger view, but why would you do that?
It’s May. The month.
I’m May. The May.
Instead of focusing completely on myself, I will list some of the things that have happened as a result of my termination of employment:
*Free time – surprisingly, I’m filling up the empty space quite nicely. Spacetime makes so much more sense when it’s free; Heisenberg’s principle doesn’t apply, since everything else is uncertain.
*Free lunch – how can it be that there’s no such thing?
*Free brunch – variation on that theme
*Free cream puffs – an important coping tool
*Free ticket to Wicked – so awesome, and I’m SO grateful (I know the tickets cost actual American currency; I’m onto you)
*Free, forwarded emails of open job positions – Hesitant to apply: if I keep getting free things, why do I need to work?
All these, except for the free time, courtesy of some of my best friends in history. Like Mufasa said, you know who you are. Or something like that.
Right now I’m working a slide presentation for a blogging discussion I’m leading tomorrow at the Stake Arts Festival.
It’s overcast here; I’ve heard some pretty big thunder. Love it.
Even if you don’t know who I am, have a great day. Have a great month. Skip around a Maypole with your ribbon and sing happy children’s songs which are really about fertility rituals.
Sheesh, you might as well sing that “Lusty Month of May” song from Camelot. Thanks for reading!
If you know who I am, don’t think about me like that. It’s creepy.
Happy May Day.