I want to name him Richard Parker
Today I washed my car, and my best friend got...a bottle of bubbly, to celebrate my clean car. (It was really, REALLY dirty. We're all psyched about this unexpected turn of events.)
I'm incredibly behind on "Moby Dick." I'm justifying my laxity thusly: I don't need the course to graduate. I'm taking it for fun...and right now, Ahab and Leviathan aren't all that fun for me. I fell in love with "The Life of Pi" this weekend, though. It makes me all the more regretful of my thyroidlessness; with that missing gland, I could take to the seas with just a boat and an inappropriately named Bengal. Oh, to dream!
All around me, people are getting pregnant or married or homes or action. It's very disconcerting; I'm very much the pink elephant in the room. I'm clad in Peter Pan tights. I don't think 21 (/22, soon) means the same thing for all people.
I don't think my mom likes Whitman-but how could a person not?! Let's experiment; read the following, and just TRY to refrain from drooling:
"I am an acme of things accomplish'd, and I an encloser of things to be.
My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs,
On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the steps,
All below duly travell'd, and still I mount and mount.
Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me,
Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, I know I was even there,
I waited unseen and always, and slept through the lethargic mist,
And took my time, and took no hurt from the fetid carbon....
...For [my embryo] the nebula cohered to an orb,
The long slow strata piled to rest it on,
Vast vegetables gave it sustenance,
Monstrous sauroids transported it in their mouths and deposited it with care.
All forces have been steadily employ'd to complete and delight me,
Now on this spot I stand with my robust soul."
*moment of due reflection*
I require a cold shower. I suspect, being the literarily inclined, genius folk that you are, you do too. So, what're you waiting for? Get to it, my dear.
I'm incredibly behind on "Moby Dick." I'm justifying my laxity thusly: I don't need the course to graduate. I'm taking it for fun...and right now, Ahab and Leviathan aren't all that fun for me. I fell in love with "The Life of Pi" this weekend, though. It makes me all the more regretful of my thyroidlessness; with that missing gland, I could take to the seas with just a boat and an inappropriately named Bengal. Oh, to dream!
All around me, people are getting pregnant or married or homes or action. It's very disconcerting; I'm very much the pink elephant in the room. I'm clad in Peter Pan tights. I don't think 21 (/22, soon) means the same thing for all people.
I don't think my mom likes Whitman-but how could a person not?! Let's experiment; read the following, and just TRY to refrain from drooling:
"I am an acme of things accomplish'd, and I an encloser of things to be.
My feet strike an apex of the apices of the stairs,
On every step bunches of ages, and larger bunches between the steps,
All below duly travell'd, and still I mount and mount.
Rise after rise bow the phantoms behind me,
Afar down I see the huge first Nothing, I know I was even there,
I waited unseen and always, and slept through the lethargic mist,
And took my time, and took no hurt from the fetid carbon....
...For [my embryo] the nebula cohered to an orb,
The long slow strata piled to rest it on,
Vast vegetables gave it sustenance,
Monstrous sauroids transported it in their mouths and deposited it with care.
All forces have been steadily employ'd to complete and delight me,
Now on this spot I stand with my robust soul."
*moment of due reflection*
I require a cold shower. I suspect, being the literarily inclined, genius folk that you are, you do too. So, what're you waiting for? Get to it, my dear.