Always with the Apologies…
Gah, okay, so remember how I promised I would start writing more? Well, one thing lead to another, and then six finals and a break later I realized that yet again I have failed my friends by posting nothing. But in my own defense, I have a terrible time knowing what exactly you’d like me to do for you. Suggestions?
In the meantime, enjoy some brief scenes from my time spent without you:
A: Becky, would you like some facial hair?
Me: Not right now, I’m writing a paper.
A: Facial hair helps you study.
Me: You don’t say… well, in that case, I’d like some mutton chops please. Big, handsome, sexy mutton chops. Like Mike Nesmith’s.
A: Whose?
Me: Never mind. Just look up Martin Van Buren and you’ll get the idea.
A: (a few seconds later) Whoa, now there is a sexy man.
~
Wikipedia tells me a reducing sugar is a sugar that forms an aldehyde or ketone and then reduces a substance in a redox reaction (for example Maillard’s reaction, which gives us caramel from milk and sugar). I tell me that non-electronic communication with a professor is fraught with difficulties.
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I have a shirt. Well, I have many shirts, but one in particular needs mentioning. It stares at you, dark eyes smiling with some strange thought you certainly don’t want to know about, pale, spiky blond hair shaggily stretched across my chest. He holds a glass ball and dares you to look into it. It makes me happy to wear the shirt, yet also sad to know that I have succumb to the disease of the mildly enthralled fan girl.
Damn you, Ziggy Stardust, or whomever you pretend to be this week.
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My iPod, who I affectionately and only occasionally called Eduardo, ran away again. I have a new one now, who is as of now thankfully nameless, but I still like to think of old Eduardo, lurking in the shadows, giggling mischievously while I spent an agonizing week looking for him, now jealously watching as I cavort about with my shiny new refurbished iPod. Then again, maybe he never meant to leave and was actually taken instead. Perhaps one day, while shopping for books on Amazon, I’ll come across Eduardo, smile sadly, and navigate away.
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I cut my silly brown locks, again, just before Thanksgiving. My mom now believes my hair is growing backwards. It’s gotten longer since then, transforming into either a short version of the 20’s bob or, my favorite, the brunette, wavy Mrs. Brady cut. One day I might be inclined to post a picture, but right now I think I just heard a lamp breaking downstairs. Those kids…
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While browsing the peculiarities of the xkcd world, avoiding with honed skill the demands of finals preparation, I rediscovered the joys of Pandora Radio. In addition to helping me rally my neurons and hit the books once more, it has since aided me in exploring some of my favorite yet little-perused genres. As one rock critic, who I hardly ever like, once said, any musician must listen to at least 1000 records before beginning to make his own music. To all you aspiring rock stars, Pandora is a great way to chip away at the 1000 CD mark. I recommend CSN radio and the Byrds. Or Juanes, if you’re looking for some easy listening in Spanish.
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More later, or maybe not. Sorry if that’s disappointing, but being honest is a resolution of mine.
