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.
B. and I went to a yoga class tonight. It will, purportedly, calm my nerves and relax my muscles. I would love to find anything that can work well on both my psychology and my physiology. I procured a new student discount pass that’s good for unlimited classes for three weeks. I’ve booked a class every day through next Sunday, so far.
Speaking of student discounts: I wish I was still around Berkeley so I could use my school ID for student rates. Students get sweet discounts on everything. As much as I am mistaken for a student, it’s tricky to explain why “University of California” is emblazoned across my school ID when I live in Pennsylvania.
The mat situation was unpleasant. We had to rent studio mats, and I kept thinking about how many other sweaty bodies had lain prostrate upon the mat before me. I thoroughly grossed myself out and couldn’t bring myself to let my face touch it. If I’m going to keep doing yoga – we’ll see after these three weeks – then I will definitely need to invest in my own.
At the beginning of class, the instructor asked if anyone was new to yoga. I didn’t raise my hand because I took a few classes in college, but out of the corner of my eye I saw Bobby’s hand sneak up. His face turned bright red every time he went into downward dog, but he had to hold me steady a few times during balance poses. After class, the instructor approached B. and told him he did so well she’d, “never guess he was a brand new yogi.” He’s a natural yogi.
I do apologize for being a shitty blogger. I go weeks without a post, followed by a burst of back-to-back posts. I’d say I’ll try to do better, but we all know that’s not going to happen.