Interesting and Sophisticated

The little man with yellow fingertips and thumbs quoted Viktor Frankl at me last night; you know, "he who has a 'why' to live can cope with almost any 'how'." I yelled at him, told him I was in no need of logotherapy and besides, I'm not a he. He got miffed and retreated back to his table and I think we've quarreled. It's tough being at odds with the people that live inside your head. This is the first time he's spoken to me in a couple weeks. I think he's mad because I painted about him.

From the Cult of the Dead Cow blog...made me giggle:
"1: Yes. We actually had to go through the drive-through at Kentucky Fried Chicken to get one. Still have an uneaten 3-piece meal in the break room. Howard's the only one with the intestinal fortitude to eat something that greasy but you're not supposed to give dogs chicken bones.

2: Oh, yeah. Why is that? Because they get them stuck in their throats?

1: No. It's because they'll sharpen them and make a shiv."

Yes, I am easily amused.

Also, according to humanforsale.com, "You are worth exactly: $1,795,326.00.

We hope you can find somebody who is wealthy enough to afford you."

And I think that's good to know.

Sooooo I have to write a CV to send to the people I'm asking to write my letters of recommendation, and and and...

Shit.

Why do I want to go to grad school again?

Score!

I can still get into Flagler's research databases!

What do -you- do, Margaret?

Me again. I'm just so talkative today.

On the bus at 15th and NE 45th, the man across from me leaned over and pointed out the window over my shoulder. "Do you know what college that is?" "The University of Washington?" I answered him timidly like I wasn't sure, like there wasn't a sign that said so right behind me, like maybe I was expecting a punchline. "And you're a redhead." I move my face slightly so that a bit of my hair falls in front of it, just to check and make sure that it is indeed still red. "Yes?" I'm still not sure what's going on. "Good." He says this definitively, his aim for our conversation apparently reached. As I get off the bus, the driver looks at me and shrugs.

On the UW campus I passed gaggle after gaggle of undergrads, all discussing their weekend of partying, what a bitch this professor is, and in which quarter they plan to graduate. I wished desperately that I was still an undergrad, that my universe only extented as far as the spring.

Then, on the bus on the way home, the lady sitting next to me looked at my ring, my claddaugh, and said "Upside down? So no one has captured your heart then, huh?" I looked down at it and remembered how relieved I was when I turned it back upside down in February, thought about how much the position of this silly ring means to me. I said "I'm not really sure it's worth much anymore. Don't think I could give it away these days" and she thought I meant the ring and it was time to get off the bus.

And the point of these stories, kids, is when did I get to be so cynical? What happened to the girl who only needed faith in her own intelligence to get through anything? I don't know where that faith has gone; don't know if I was ever really as smart as I thought I was.

I'm such a grump some days. Maybe I need a hug.