Fact.

I am one of those people who wears her sunglasses indoors.

And contrary to what I imagine the people walking past me are thinking, I do not do this because I think I am a rockstar. (That would be Ben.) I do dream of being a rockstar, but if that dream came true, I would NOT wear sunglasses inside because that would be way too typical. I would be the most down-to-earth normal joe rockstar, I would even have to refrain from doing humanitarian aid and funding a well-publicized cause. But since I know quite well that I'm not a rockstar, it is perfectly okay for me to wear my glasses inside.

I do it because my glasses are fragile and I've already broken infinity pair(s)--never know about pluralizing that one--and the safest place to put them is most def not in my bag, nor in my pocket, nor in my hands when I'm carrying books, books, etc. and putting on my puffy jacket. When I'm around David, the safest place to put them is most def also not on my face, but no place is safe around David so I still have to put them on my face and risk getting pushed out of the canoe and into the lake and then watch my glasses sink to the green mush floor. Actually, I don't open my eyes under water (still afraid, and can't jump off the diving board without plugging my nose) so I just imagine watching them fall. That was a good pair of glasses. R.I.P. bitten tort shelled dears.

When I wear my sunglasses inside, especially underground, I get strange looks. So in the vein of Huck Finn (as long as I'm in and in for good I might as well go whole hog!) I pull out a little strut and pout my lips and act as rockstar as I can.

Now you know.

Over it

I'm feeling over blogging, and I'm getting the feeling that some of you sympathize. It feels like a pet--not in the hairy poopy slobbery way that demands attention, but in the manthistakesalotofwork way.

Taking a step back from blogging and facebook, etc. (my phone is even dead currently), it's nice to remember how to live just for livings sake, not for postings sake. Once again, I've reached the point of no return. My attention span is beeping at me. I know my time is limited until I hit "publish post" out of irritation. Maybe my fingers can squeeze in one last thought before mutiny: I want to buy a macbook. And soon. Any thoughts?

String Quartet in F by Ravel

It sounds like pine trees and endless grass. Like Firehole River smashing powerful on rock and wood then falling vulnerable through air. Like early early sunshine that sees you before you see it. Like the way the earth grows, and as mysterious.

I admit, I don't know what to do with music most of the time as far as words are concerned. How to spin sound into letters, either to describe or mimic. But there are a few songs that seem to play the inside of me, and I wonder if they sound as familiar to everyone else. I don't think my brain very much resembles Ravel's or Mozart's or any of the greats--so how did they know me well enough to write me in their songs?

Last night, we discussed the question, "What is Literature?" in one of my classes. I eventually arrived at a saying of Marvie's: The meaning of communication is the response you get. I think I agree with Mr. Stanley Fish--literature may be shaped more by the eyes reading than the hands writing. And perhaps its the same with music.

I read and hear landscapes.

Here's to you, 2008

Best of:
-Busath (working with Jane and the Strega Nona candy drawer.)
-Summer work (living outside in the shadows of the Tetons. I'll be back for you, Jackson, and for whatever else is mine.)
-Graduate School (books, books, and more books. books are a more expensive indulgence than Odwalla SuperFood, but might be better for my health.)
-Teaching (being laughed at by my students. and not when i was intentionally funny.)
-Life Decisions (getting those wisdom teeth out, buying my first pair of skinny jeans, resubscribing to Pandora online radio)
-Biking (Putt Putt to Hagen at dusk, being thwapped on both sides by wildflowers.)
-Accomplishments (watching three complete seasons of gilmore girls, and restraining myself from watching more.)
-Skiing (my first mini-cliff. next year, 360. okay, probs not.)
-Family (new sister [Dana], new nephew [Peter], new brother [David, post-mish] and finding that I still like all the oldies. You're tops.)
-Trips (Hawaii, New York, Montana)


It's been real.