Thursday, April 19, 2007

people smarter than me

I was noodling around the ol' internet this morning, thinking about writing a nice, long blog post about some of the intense thinking I've been doing about the news lately. You know:

Anna Nicole Breaking News: She's Still Dead!

Don Imus Controversy: Everybody Who Ever Heard His Show Totally Unsurprised, Celebrities With Apparently Nothing Else to Do Shocked, Outraged. (The uproar somehow kept the focus from the way the actual Rutger's women were a total class act throughout, behaving with respect, poise and self-possession at every turn and making all the "outraged" people look shrill and selfish.)

Virginia Tech Tragedy: Continuing Insensitive Saturation-Coverage of Horrifying Tragedy Causes International Non-Partisan Sympathetic Vomiting

It's possible that somewhere in me I have an entry about the media behavior on that last one, but not right now. My point is, before sitting down to write, I looked around at some of my favorite sites and found that my much more intelligent and talented male doppleganger from another universe had already written a much cleverer post expressing most of my salient views, probably more germanely and coherently than I would have. (Oh, look how she uses the vocabulary words to protect her from feeling intellectually inferior! Why did I let her buy that Mensa book?)

Saturday, April 14, 2007

further postiness

Ah, the reason I hate putting things off: I never get around to them. And here I am again blogging while doing laundry and willing the sun to come out. My brain does not toggle cold/hot easily enough for me to be living in a non-tropical area. Seasons just exhaust me.

Don't misunderstand me, I don't think that all the people I wanted to mention don't now deserve mention now that I've put it off so long. I've just made myself so neurotic about the risk of leaving out someone who has meant the world to me (yet again) in the last few weeks, and have panicked so about what to say about these people (these people who make my sanity and marginal pleasantness, if not my life, possible) in a format where they, and everyone will see my remarks and praises, that I'm sort of sparing you all the tortured excercise I forsee it being.

Besides. You know who you are. Your ears are still ringing with the constant refrain of my journey-bleating when I begin the serenity-croaking. You listen to me when I need to be listened to, and you tell me to shut the fuck up when I need that. You laugh delightedly and tell me how happy you are for me when I am amazed to be doing well. You defend me and succor me when I'm dissapointed to be doing poorly. You wrap your arms around me at the slightest opportunity and help me find the heart to love me, too. And you trust me to do the same for you, in the way of friends. No list of names and why-I-love-thems, this far after the impulse to share it, will be adequate, so just keep in mind I'll be looking for ways to appreciate you practically, since you know you're on the list.