What I love: checking my mail and finding a New Yorker or Harper's or both and not a single bill, credit card solicitation, or coupon for cheap pizza.
I tend to not recognize happiness until a about a year after the occurrence. In three hundred and sixty five days, I will realize I love my life right now at this very moment.
According to my dear mother, I can be abrasive. But I prefer to think of myself as a loofah. I slough off dead skin cells so that a new shiny complexion can shine through. Perhaps one day I will work as a copywriter for Neutrogena or Clinique.
I like exfoliation.
I originally hail from a place where jello salad is a staple and there's a guy who raises zorses for no practical reason that I can see. Basically it's like Oz. And though I make fun of it, I still enjoying dressing in blue gingham and ruby slippers and calling it home. The place I'm referring to is North Dakota, but south of the Mason-Dixon line, it's easily confused with South Dakota or Minnesota or South Carolina (?). I'm not sure why I'm compelled to mention it. Perhaps like Faulkner or Dorothy Parker, or Garrison Keillor, or any number of writers, I just really feel that origin of place and setting and landscape really can't be separated from a person.
Note to future English majors: money, the degree will not bring, but statements like aforementioned, yes indeedy. Try paying your rent with that.
I'm a sucker for documentaries, a proud supporter of NPR and PBS, and love live music of many different genres. I used to love shopping for unique, one-of-a-kind-have-to-travel-to-find handbags and frivolous shoes. I cannot remember the last time I purchased accessories. For the past year or so, I've been trying to reconcile materialism with idealism and not become frumpy in the process. So, I leave my apartment each morning wearing a cape (capes are the new black). The world needs saving after all. Wait, we're all totally fucked if I'm in charge of saving it. But if you need savvy prose, a sarcastic remark, or someone to look dazzling wearing frothy attire such as capes, I'm totally your girl. Oh, and I'm not good at selling pies either, so if that's your m.o., you're out of luck.
I sometimes wish I were British, or at least, could speak in a convincing British accent. And, I think the people who decide which words get included in dictionaries have a pretty cool job. What must the office politics be like?
Another job I'd like to have: inventing bubble gum flavors. Blueberry Apple. Mmmmmm. Lemon (must be careful so it isn't reminiscent of Pledge or toilet bowl cleaner) and watermelon. Mmmm,mmmm. Perhaps the best job of all though, would be inventing bubble gum flavors whilst deciding which words to put in the dictionary. It'd be like walking and talking and rubbing your head and tapping your stomach at the same time. Cheerio!
Oh, and the world definitely is overpopulated. If there's any doubt in your mind, shop at a Ross Dress for Less store.
