I turned 24 yesterday. Break out the walker, the knitting needles, and the crossword puzzles. Actually, I hate crossword puzzles, and I’m terrible at knitting, but the walker could be cool. To celebrate, my family came up and we went to Tangerine Cafe. Then we hung out at my apartment, where they gave me my birthday gift: a blender and a whole bunch of fruit. Perhaps they’re trying to say something about my eating habits, no? Anyway, I made a fruit smoothie today and didn’t dice any fingers, so I call that a success.

Other plans for the beginning of this week include checking out the newly remodeled art museum tomorrow with friends and going out to dinner with a pack of comrades on Monday. Promising beginnings!

Eek! A male! Interesting article that makes a very valid point.
Five Emotions the Internet Invented. I cannot disagree.
Then and now, Shanghai. Sounds like the first line of a haiku, actually.
Conan Doyle estate approves new Holmes novel. Unless this is based on hitherto misplaced, previously unpublished notes by Doyle himself, this is pretty much just fanfiction with a cute little estate stamp of approval on it, which means nothing in terms of whether it will be worthy of the Holmes legacy. But yes. I’ll probably read it anyway.

“Young Blood” by The Naked and Famous. Music to make you want to be a little young and a little stupid.
“Don’t Look Back” by She and Him.
Inspiration in the parking garage.
So you’re sitting there with your girl, having a drink, when her ex comes over and starts a ruckus. What do you do? Cello duel, obviously. Why the heck am I not dating a cellist?

Check out A Wrinkle in Time at the 90-second Newbery Film Festival. As Sarah says, probably done by home schoolers. Clearly too awesome for any other explanation.
My Cardboard Life, found by Ian. Yes. It’s a webcomic about a cute piece of cardboard.
If only everyone saw you the way your dog does.
If only you saw everything the way an arrow does.
Oh that’s cute, look, two clowns doing handsprings–HOLY FRIJOLES WHAT ARE YOU DOING.

So, I finished The Aeneid at long last. Having now read that, The Odyssey, and The Iliad, I think it’s safe for me to say that while I enjoy the ancient epics in moderation, they’re not quite my cup of tea. I liked Aeneid better than Homer’s works, actually, but I really have trouble getting into Greek mythology. Which is weird, considering my love for mythology in general, but I think there are just too many gods, half-gods, quarter-gods, etcetera, and they’re all annoying.

Someone, somewhere, sometime ago recommended Them by Joyce Carol Oates to me. I have no idea who, so I don’t know at whom to be miffed right now. I know Oates has won various literary awards and is supposed to be really good, but…ugh. I’m maybe 150 pages in, and so far it’s sordid in a terribly dull way. It’s not shocking or anything, it’s just very blandly ugly. 500 pages of that may be more than I care to suffer through, but I’ll at least give it a bit longer to get its act together.