Oh, I’m sorry

… were you under the impression that the semi-regular posts in the weeks prior to this, relayed to you like musical notes, pregnant with meaning, across the vast reaches of Cyberspace, were an indication of increasing dedication to my readership? If so, you’ve been deceived. I’ve no excuses other than my own, opulent selfishness, and that’s something I rarely apologize for. Sometimes I convince myself that I owe it to my numerous (roughly 11) readers to update regularly, but then I snap to my senses and realize that I run a weblog, a medium where absence is expected, and is as much a part of the tapestry of meaning as the posts themselves. Clearly many things happen to me, but not all of them make it into the blog – that’s how I’m still in the will – and extended leaves indicate that life was too busy to chronicle the many amazing things I’d done. And besides that, it’s a tupping blog. I mean, come on.

Cut me some slack, anyway. The week after finals week was, all told, probably more stressful than its antecedent cousin, and moments when I had the spare time and motivation to take to the keyboard were few. For one thing, Marta and I committed to watching the first two Lord of the Rings movies to prepare ourselves for the third. We enjoyed it, but it was, in the words of Dillon, a grueling six-hour struggle. I can’t imagine why anyone, in sound mind or otherwise, would want to own the extended version of either film. Is three hours of trudging across Middle Earth not enough for you? People who own it must have a tremendous capacity for tedium, or possibly elves. I also went to work several times, hoping to prevent the mad rush of scholarship that will happen if I let my hard research deadline of Feb. 2 slip out of mind, but didn’t accomplish that much. I was making sure not to overly exert myself. Granted, I have been sleeping later than necessary and playing guitar rather a lot, but those were necessary allowances in order to feel on vacation. Between sleep and guitar, hobbits and dwarves, working and partying, the days have been just packed.

Three things are noteworthy and non-obvious right now.

One. My fingernails are blue. For this you can thank Kelly, Lindsay, and Marta, who respectively had the idea to, volunteered to, and supplied the nail polish to paint my nails. I’m removing the effect tomorrow owing to too many comments from the hoi polloi – it’s not because I’ve been ridiculed or had my sexuality threatened, but because no one wants to talk about anything else. Everyone I exchange words with comments on them, from my family members to the “sampling engineers” at Costco to the dentist (while my entire mouth and tongue were encased in blue latex rubber). The reaction was no doubt compounded by the fact that Friday I got the most conservative haircut since… well, since the last one. I guess I just don’t cut my hair very often. But in any case, I look like a boy scout again, rather than a hippy, and boy scouts don’t paint their nails. I’m not sure I approve of the change.

Two. I had a cavity filled today, and the dentist and his assistant tried to carry on snippets of conversation through the latex, about my nails and other things, as if I were speaking a recognizable language in response to their English. I was in no mood to banter with the white coats – call me an anti-Dentite, but my favorite times are not spent in the chair. For all I know, their whole establishment is some sort of scam on middle-aged men, and this “cavity” business is completely fabricated. I went in feeling fine, he numbed me up but good and dug away at my enamel for around 20 minutes, and I left feeling fine. As far as I can tell, the only benefit I received was half a numb face.

Three. After an excruciating deliberation, I saw Mona Lisa Smile with Alex and his girlfriend, as well as my little sis. The movie was excellent until the last half-hour, when all the plot complications wrapped themselves up as neatly as Christmas presents and everything became saccharine. The acting was great, and three of the main four students make my heart go pitter-patter, but the movie didn’t quite make it. It’s ironic: a film that proselytizes for “thinking differently” and “questioning conformity” and “being true to yourself” fails on all those accounts – it’s predictable and kind of trite. That said, I still enjoyed it very much, although I can already hear the stream of curse words and dogma – half in Spanish – that Ashley will hurl at me in response to that opinion.

Also. I’m a liar, in that I told Erin moments ago that I couldn’t hang out because I was going straight to bed. Sorry hon, sometimes you gots ta write it down.

Lastly, before I shut up for several hours, Michele sent me a link to these, which I found strangely compelling despite their emo nature. I especially like this one. Peace (on earth and elsewhere, but probably not in the Middle East. I’m a pragmatist).