Remiss in journaling
Let's see; what were the things I'd meant to say...
I've been back from Tampa a couple days. It was good to see Sara, and her parents seemed to like me well enough. I honestly wasn't really that worried about it, so... hey! My laid back attitude was justified.
Also: Tampa was freezing. Not as cold as it is in Connecticut, but pretty cold. Which, it was universally concluded, was probably my fault.
Sara and I saw The Golden Compass while I was there. Verdict: now I want to reread the book. They got a lot right and a lot wrong, and either way they deserves praise for the cohesiveness of their retro-futuristic world. It just didn't provoke a reaction from me, which is damnation enough. I've noticed a pattern with certain books: the first third takes two months to get through, and the rest takes two days. Frankenstein was such a book. Glad I finished it, but God you have to work at the fucker, when the Doctor is giving you details of his step-sister's biography which do nothing to establish the themes of the book. And I still think the epistolatory frame tale serves no purpose other than to really make what is already a slow-boiling book even slower.
Then There Were None (aka Ten Little Indians), on the other hand, was the fastest book I've read in months. I started it in the Tampa airport, and finished it on the plane. Now, you know me; I'm not really a mystery person. I've read Sherlock Holmes; everything else I like is really just a novel in which a mystery is solved (Elizabeth Peters, this means you). So, when I say this is the best mystery I've ever read, keep in mind that grain of salt. That said: well done, Mrs. Christie.
My penultimate semester at American University consisted of three B+s (Civ of Africa, Value of Literature, and Modernism High and Low), and an A for Human Nature After Darwin. Not too shabby; I could have done better, but I was otherly focused this fall. I'm cautiously optimistic for the upcoming Spring.
Which reminds me: I made some New Years resolutions. Because making them is easy; the hard part is the following. On paper, they seem simple: write a thousand words of fiction a day; go to the gym twice a week; keep track of all money flow, not the haphazard job I've done previously. Again, easy. Except that I wrote perhaps two hundred words today (the first day I've tried), haven't gone running once all week, and have a wallet full of receipts that need processing. And maybe I'll get better, but it's not the way to start the year.
On the other hand, I also started it kissing Sara; that has to count for something.
The DJ at the bowling alley cock blocked "Under Pressure". You do not cut out at "Love dares you to change". Not cool, man. Not cool