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I have been having more fascinating dreams. I dreamed that my dad dropped me and several of my friends off at a swamp, told us to be careful, and drove on. We resolutely waded into the swamp in search of something beautiful. I’m not being vague, that was our mission: to find something beautiful. We knew it would be hard and would take a while (the swamp was an ugly muddy smell mess), but we slogged along serenely, laughing about things and talking and keeping an eye and an ear out for the something beautiful because we knew we would find it eventually. And that was the dream.

Another night I dreamed that a bunch of my CU crew were all watching people we didn’t know give Honors presentations, and afterwards we had to say goodbye to each other all over again, just like it was when we left a few months ago. Except we microwaved chocolate chip cookies first (this was important) and ate them all before we hugged and said our sad farewells.

Living alone makes everything an event. “Oo! This is the first time I’ve vacuumed my own apartment!” “Oo! This is the first time I’ve bought silverware!”, etc. To an extent I’m moving past that (having vacuumed a couple times, it’s not really that great anymore, and the silverware was a one-time deal unless I start pitching forks out the window at lizards), but one thing that never ceases to be odd for me is cooking. I’m not crazy about cooking, but I’m a pretty good cook, when I’m paying attention. The problem often is that I’m reading while cooking. (Example: cooking pasta tonight. It’s totally still edible! And the book was great.)

In the case of chicken and dumplings earlier this week, books were not to blame. Let me tell you the story of my version of chicken and dumplings: it was an Event.

Greetings from sticky Florida! It is very strange here. Examples: Click here for the rest of this entry, because it will no doubt be very long.

This is my last post before I move to the wilderness of Florida! I suspect it’s pretty civilized, but you wouldn’t know it to hear Mom talk. She’s finding all sorts of things to worry about, including but not limited to hurricanes, alligators, Burmese pythons, and my eating poorly. I confess, I find myself slightly apprehensive about some things regarding moving. Can’t say that Burmese pythons make the list, though. All outsized reptiles better watch out; I am headed for their territory this Sunday. I’ve been packed and set to go for a week (what, I like to get things done early), and all of my worldly possessions are in a great pile in the living room, waiting to be loaded into the car tomorrow night. Surely at some point this moving business will sink in and seem real. Maybe.

Speaking of reptiles…apparently they should be careful of large cats as well.

Today was my last day at the country club, and everyone was really sweet. I got a whole bunch of cards, and the dessert chef made a cheesecake, and there were hugs all around. Funny how you never know how much people like you until you’re leaving. Or maybe they were all just really happy to see me go. 😛

Bookwise, I finally read A Farewell to Arms by Hemingway the other day. I’m not sure how I got through school not having read it, but the situation has been rectified. I feel terribly guilty, but I can’t lie: I really don’t like Hemingway. I try! I try really hard to like him! As an English major, I feel like I’m missing some vital key to his writings that will magically make them wonderful. I read The Old Man and the Sea twice, hoping it would grow on me, and loathed it both times. There’s just something about his particular brand of bleakness that rubs me the wrong way and makes me laugh at all things that are supposed to be tragic or whatever. He takes himself so seriously and is so morose about it that I kind of just want to slap him around, and his dialogue drives me up the wall. Maybe when I’m older I’ll find that magical key and it’ll all be wonderful. Maybe. Sorry, Hemingway.

After that I read Franny and Zooey by J.D. Salinger, and that was actually pretty fantastic. I’m not sure yet how I feel about all of it, and maybe it was just so good because I started it right after reading A Farewell to Arms (SORRY, Hemingway!), but I think I came across it at just the right time. I need to be pulled down off of my academic horse pretty regularly, and this is a great book for it.

Hey, did I mention a superb movie called The Fall yet? No? Well now I have. It’s disturbing at times and too violent, but also absolutely beautiful and exceedingly touching. I think I recommend it. The trailer doesn’t do it justice; it’s much better than it looks. I also rewatched the old movie Captain Blood again after reading the book, both of which were good fun.

Agh! I am filled with excitement and foreboding and angst and I don’t know what these days. I need to move and start a new job and be done with all of this in-betweenness.

You seem to have stumbled upon a storytelling of ravens. Watch for falling collective nouns; you may find a wing of dragons or a charm of hummingbirds caught in your hair. Hardhats are recommended.

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