The beach was literally just out our front door.
We toasted Coronas to beautiful sunsets.
I wore my teeniest bathing suit.
B. Showed off his awesome bar tan.
I got my acceptance letter to UPenn.
I also watched dolphins in the surf, got stung by a jellyfish, finished Atonement, ate Twix and vodka for breakfast, and saw The Dark Knight Rises. All in all, solid vacation.
PS: I finally caved and made a Twitter account for mini-updates between full posts.
Follow me @whitney_jm!
Here’s a non-comprehensive list of
Things We Are Definitely Not Discussing:
1. How I went in for a trim and came out with a quarter of my hair missing. I’ve grown it out from chin-length for nearly four years and this dude hacks off a year’s progress in 20 minutes. B. says I look like Lara Croft now, which makes him the third person to say I resemble Angelina Jolie. (Feel free to discuss that last part.)
This is a “before” picture. I’m too pissed to take an “after” picture.
2. My average quantitative reasoning score on the GRE. That word right there is a fighting word.
3. The case. If you don’t know what this means, I’m delighted. If you do know what this means, then you should really shut up about it. If I wanted to talk about it, I would bring it up. You bringing it up is just bad manners.
4. How long it’s been since I last went to a yoga class.
Now here’s a non-comprehensive list of
Things We Should Totally Talk About:
1. My punishment for ending a statement with a preposition. Lines? Grammar Sets? “The Essay of Pain and Suffering?”
2. In fifth grade, we either went to “Fun Friday” or wrote “The Essay of Pain and Suffering” depending on how “good” we were over the week. You know how many times I went to FF? Once. I basically had the essay memorized.
3. My fantastic GRE verbal reasoning score. 165/170 = 96th percentile. Or my fantastic analytical writing score. 5.5/6 = 96th percentile.
4. The Magicians by Lev Grossman. LKP gave it to me almost two years ago and I’m just now getting around to finishing it. It’s surprisingly droll if you can get over how pretentious it is. You can read my full thoughts about it on my upcoming post for The Canary Review.
Since my parents’ promise to me that I would get a great job if I went to college has not come to pass, I have a profusion of leisure. Right now, or rather when I’m not writing (indignant letters to a certain University demanding a refund for my degree enclosed with copies of job rejections), sleeping from midnight to noon, or killing zombies and aliens on the Xbox, I’m reading Jane Eyre.
It’s part of my goal to read half a hundred books this year, and even though I read it (purportedly) in high school, I’m inclined to read it again because of my teenage tendency to read SparkNotes rather than entire novels. Yes, I am indeed proof that you can graduate with a degree from the fourth best English program in the entire world without having read even half of the books assigned in high school, but I digress.
Anyway, I’ve read about a third of Jane Eyre, and I have a few observations I’d like to share:
1. This book makes me want to drink. Heavily. Mrs. Reed, John Reed, Mr. Brocklehurst. Jesus, these are not people whose presence I want to endure without a stiff martini.
2. There’s not enough sex. I’m youthful and progressive and, damn it, I want to read the dirty bits. I’m hoping I’ll be a little more satisfied when Jane and Rochester get together. That happens, right?
3. For someone so acclaimed for being a protofeminist, Charlotte Brontë sure spends a lot of time talking about clothes.
4. The way Brontë writes makes me think I’d be good friends with her in real life. I get the sense that she practices great restraint in writing, and was probably wont to say highly indecorous and hilarious things in conversation, which I totally appreciate in another person.
5. Surprisingly, I like Jane Eyre! I was not expecting this, as British Lit. usually causes me to fake gag while making the “vomit” sign in ASL and curse aloud, but hey, personal growth… or something.
This list offered a lot more insight about me than the book, but isn’t that kind of the point of a personal blog?