A 1920s french floozy.

I could not be more excited.  

I will never comment on a blog saying "Why do we care?" because if I don't care, I can go away from the blog. Instead I will sit back and have a good five-minute think about my life.

I will not sign up to Twitter or a blog just to write "I am getting my hair done" or other inanities. Every message I write will be entertaining and/or informative; e.g. "Getting a beehive hairdo so I won't fit under the parking garage clearance pole" or "I am on fire, please assist me." (Note: The latter is appropriate only if my hair is, in reality, on fire.)

I will not consider meeting people off the Internet "creepy," because look at me, I'm normal and I answered the Craigslist ad and here I am in the front of the bar alone, looking over my shoulder like a criminal, waiting for my Craigslist date.

I will only add up to one application per month on Facebook. This application will not be a zombie maker, werewolf maker, "top friends" maker, or anything that serves no purpose and is not, again, entertaining and/or informative.

I will hand my Yelp posts to a friend who works in writing or editing, and I will ask them to rip it to shreds, because I am not an awesome writer but in fact a terrible breezy writer. If I am a regular contributor to McSweeney's Internet Tendency, I will now stop writing ANYTHING on the Internet and will now back away from the keyboard.

I will trick people into seeing Goatse, because that is funny and will never not be funny.

I will not comment on YouTube.

I will not add a signature to my forum posts that is more than half the length of my average post. I will definitely not put ASCII art in my signature, because I recognize that 1993 is over and the Internet has pictures.

After one year of commenting on other people's work without producing any of my own, I will produce some work and allow others to comment on it. I am allowed to then lash out at my commenters, but I acknowledge that that polemic will become my only well-known work.

My new blog's title and tagline will not contain these words: random, musings, "just some thoughts," "my crazy/demented/unique brain", or by Perez Hilton.

I will not invite a "friend" on Facebook if I've never actually communicated with them, even if "we share like 15 friends so I guess it's time we connect." Instead I will wait until I meet these people socially, or get my friends to set us up on a blind date because let's admit it, that's all I really want.

I will never leave a comment expressing adulation or criticism in three or fewer words, unless I am doing so in an altogether unique way. "FAIL" is not a unique way. Neither is "LOLzers."

Basically, I'm in an awesome mood. Yay.  

But I got home from the physical therapist, checked the gmail, and boom! there was my activation code. The album downloaded in about 30 seconds. It started playing. It was magical. I love this album so much more than Hail to the Thief, and it was the perfect music to do my work to. I can't write to song I know the lyrics to, because then I either A) pretend I'm a rock start or B) have some equally silly fantasy play out in my mind, musical style, but of course I couldn't make out Thom's lyrics. Even after my 6th time listening that day.  

Anyway, my work got done, and I was (not perfectionist happy but...) happy with the results.

 Side story: my iPod is completely on the fritz. I've had it since Oct '04? I think. So it's no surprise that it's going to slowly stop working, but it makes me very sad. And it works, just not always when it's not plugged into a power source. So the day after, I decide to try again. I load up In Rainbows and go to wait at the busstop. And it works. The  busride was so much better that day because I had a soundtrack. The couple in front of me was cute instead of nauseating. No one bugged me. Walking through rush hour traffic to get my (mid-town) building didn't bother me. I was happy. And of course I'm giving credit to Radiohead for semi-fixing my iPod, since now it seems to play that and nothing else the whole way through.

So my Simple Sunday is the magic that is Radiohead's newest, awesome album.

Some stuff is pretty.

Some stuff is gross.

Some stuff is brilliant.

Some stuff is impractical.

But it's all stuff I find intriguing. 

So if you're interested in design, or what you think my design choices say about me, you should check it out.  

I know that I grew up in a family where we say "I love you" all the time; every time we talk on the phone, most of the time before we head to bed, etc. Sometimes my sister will forget to say it to me when we're done talking, and she'll call me back just to tell me. I've even left it at the end of voice mail messages to my friends, accidently, well, not because I don't love them, just because it popped out without any prior thought. I'm very comfortable with the words "I love you" and they flow very easily from my mouth. He, however, did not grow up in that environment. He grew up, knowing his parents loved him, but without the constant verbal reminder.

So obviously I'm going to say it first most of the time.

But tonight, tonight he made me so happy.

He tried to beat me to the punch. It was so freaking adorable, the way he tried (and mostly succeeded) to say it before the point where I normally say it, right before the "bye".

I do love him so very much.  

I literally don't understand how this works.

But I'm so fascinated.  

And then: 

I want her to be my grandmother.  

So then the teacher jumped in to say that it was often more freeing to just read. Not try to read into, but just read. But notice yourself reading. When you get to a point where you're confused, stop and notice that you're confused. Most likely, you're not stupid, but it's a device the author is using to purposely confuse you, like omitting information that might be entirely necessity for the purpose of the book. So to take what you're feeling when you're reading and then take that leap to the next point.

Oh my god. So helpful. It was like a light bulb clicked and suddenly I understood how I should've been reading the novels this semester.

My brain hurt after class, so I decided to walk home instead of dealing with buses/subways etc. On my way I thought about making an appointment to talk to my teacher about how to make that leap. Because I've understood the books so far, and have "gotten" them, but then I come to class and am amazed at everything else I missed. So how can I understand it ALL?

But then I had another very important realization. I am here to learn. I shouldn't know everything about the book when I go to class, or else class would be a colossal waste of my time. The teacher has read and re-read and re-read these books, she's obviously going to understand better all the little nuances than I will when I have a week to read it.

And then I remembered a story my mom likes to tell. Apparently in 2nd grade when we were supposed to learn division, I came home and asked my mom to teach me, so that I would know how to do it when the teacher told us. She told me that this is the reason why I was going to school, because it's okay that I don't know today, but tomorrow I'll learn.

So apparently I've always wanted to know just as much as the teacher. And I don't know what that has to say about me, but it's gotta mean something, right?