(trying to dig myself out of this seemingly never-ending stream of shit by focusing on the little things)
- Comments from long-lost old friends (Reyn - an e-mail is headed your way).
- Going out for dinner and drinks with the amazing women from my adult gymnastics class, and having them give a toast to me!
- Having students in my kindergarten class ask to have their picture taken with me on the last day of the session.
- Remembering how to do a kip on bars*.
- MandyAndBryan.com, the blog of one of my students, who is planning to depart to travel around the world with her boyfriend. Seriously, I should come with this same disclaimer:
It should be noted that I have the filter of a three year old and no boundaries. There are few things I am uncomfortable discussing. Talk of dead bodies and bodily functions while eating doesn’t phase me. I’m not good at the beginning of relationships where you are supposed to be on your best behavior and pretend that you never belch or pass gas. Who am I kidding, I’m not usually delicate enough to call it “passing gas”, but I’m trying to be mindful of the more easily disturbed. Bryan always knows when I’ve cut the cheese because of the giggling. A good fart really brings out the eight year old boy in me.
(though I tend to err more on the TMI with regard to sex than bodily functions)
- Seeing Janet Reno tomorrow (though sadly, I imagine no dance party)
- The Tudors (mmm...Jonathan Rhys Meyers)
- printing out the so far 40+ pages of my dissertation and thinking, huh, this doesn't really suck.
- Cortisone shots.
Things That Do Suck
- Republican American (shocker) for publishing an interesting article on all the reasons why women are more likely to tear their ACL than men, then closing with this bullshit:
Girls tend to play more dolls and dress up and all that kind of stuff as kids while boys are out running, tackling and jumping up and down.Unfortunately,
- Quarterlife. I wanted to like this show. It is, after all, by the same people as Thirtysomething and My So-Called Life. I think in a way it's like Dawson's Creek - it gets the emotions of a few tiny moments right, but the rest is melodramatic to the point of unwatchable. Maybe it is just one of those things - maybe if you're exactly at that place in your life it speaks to you, but if you're even just a year or two past it's unbearably embarrassing. I'm always afraid to pass these sorts of judgements, because I do have a lot of nostalgic love for things that I know are sort of ridiculous and melodramatic (My So-Called Life, Felicity).