Random musings, from a disorderly mind


Well, yet again I’ve let a whole week go by again without blogging.  So, in an attempt for better blog consistency (not good, better) I’m posting a rather random assortment of thoughts.  These are from the last two of my literature classes.  So, what we have here is a look into what I’m thinking about when I should be paying attention to the large words my teacher insists on using.

I am jealous of the girl next to me who always eats ice cream sandwiches and doritos and is still skinny. [A note from the “editor”, her apparently speedy metabolism torments me.]

Feminist literary criticism walks a fine line between reasonable close readings and playing the victim, while reaching for any shred of evidence (mother, has other in it? really?) [This is in reference to a comment my teacher made about “Mother” also having the word “other” in it,  to prove that we are living within the constrains of a man created, patriarchal language which basically works to oppress women, proving her lack of knowledge about linguistics.]

I cannot be the only person in class who thinks that mother,  other thing is ridiculous.

People get much more upset over the portrayal of women in books, than the idiotic portrayal of men on t.v.

My teacher holds her chalk like a cigarette. [She really does, I don’t know if it makes her feel sort of like Audrey Hepburn or what, but I’ve noticed this before.]

My teacher is wearing a seriously questionable dress, sort of reminiscent of Little House on the Prairie, complete with lace collar.  But her boots are cute.

Oh gosh, it’s not a dress it’s this pant jumper thing tucked into her boots. [As I’m sure you can tell class was riveting this day.]

I accidentally hit the wrong key combination on my other notes and now I have annoying paragraph markers I can’t turn off.  [This plagued me for quite some time, until I i.med my father and got a detailed description of how to turn this off as well as how to use about 18 other neat functions on my laptop.]

There you go, maybe next time I’ll document our library day, it’s sure to be a barrel of laughs.


Letter to a neglected blog

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Dearest blog,

A thousand apologies for my lack of commitment.  It is true that you’ve fallen rather low on the priority list.  You come after school, and work, and spending time with actual people, but really that’s no excuse.

I also admit to being the starter of many drafts, but you see, writing papers for my classes has taken all of my inspiration. (It takes a fair amount of creativity to write a good paper  when you’re given a piece of “literature” and forced to find genius which may or may not be there.)

From now on I will do my best to be a better blogger, (not good, just better, I wouldn’t want to make any promises I can’t keep.)  Because I don’t want to be accused of blog abandonment (and I think dad may actually mean that whole room and board thing.)

Yours Truly,

Letter to a neglectful blogger.

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Dear Sweetanlo,

It has been one month since last you posted, 30. whole. days.  At first you weren’t a bad blogger, occasionally a little inconsistent but not terrible.  Lately, though you’ve just left me here gathering figurative dust.

Time after time you would open a new post.  I would feel the usual rush of joy, and wonder excitedly what you were going to post,  but after only a few sentences you would close it again, (which is another thing, you should really clean out the drafts folder, you’re bogging me down with all those post beginnings.)

Don’t just leave me here hanging in cyberspace.  Come back and write again, (if only because your dad says he’ll only let you keep living here rent free if you blog, and you’re not sure how serious he is.)

This, dear blogger, is your wake up call.


Your blog.