not wanted on the voyage

Well. So much for grad school.

I'm actually not as crushed as I might have thought. Of course, what with the somatization of emotions associated with testosterone, I have a wicked headache. But if you can cure your woes with a couple of ibuprofen, I call that good science.

I did that thing where you hesitate over opening the letter, trying to keep it in a Schrödinger's Cat-like state of indeterminacy, but just for a moment.

The letter was brief and unambiguous, except for the part where they refer to my "writing samples (enclosed)," which, unless they were minaturized and fell out when I opened the envelope, were not (enclosed).

To be honest, my main thought, unbidden, was: "Well, aren't you going to look silly in my biography."

It's good to know that my delusions of grandeur are undimmed by any actual experience. They are the most resilient part of my psyche, and have gotten me through many a threatening time when I might have, given less well-cemented delusions, had to believe I was only slightly better than everyone else.

So.

Back to the novel, I guess. A whole bunch of other decisions just got both easier and harder, all at once.

In other news, Pretty Dresses

A strange phenomenon. There is a dress shop right next to where I work. (That is not the strange part. Yaletown is chock full of consumer opportunities.)

The shop is tiny, white, and full of dresses that are like the fantasies of garments that fairies are drawn in, all irregular swathes of diaphanous fabric. They are the Prettiest Dresses I have ever seen. They are like magic. In every colour. Each one a little different.

I do not want to wear these pretty dresses. The effect would be alarming. I do not like to wear dresses, though I would take a utilikilt in a heartbeat.

But, oh, how I want the pretty dresses. I don't know what I want to do with them. Not put them up on the wall. Maybe just have a bunch of people who like that sort of thing put them on and dance back and forth like pixies. I want to look and look and look at the pretty dresses, swirling and floating and making magic out of thin air. And I will drink lemonade. And dream.

Volunteers?

***And wishing everyone a very happy Matzo Crumb Appreciation Week. I named it thus in honour of the cascade of crumbs I habitually wear for the duration of pesach as token of the jewntile commitment to adopted traditions.

Let these asterixes stand for the crumbs: ***

I am very excited by the new pesach products I found at Omnitsky's deli. Particularly the kosher for pesach pizza. The onion matzo chips are quite good. The macaroons are, as always, remarkable.

-rf

postscript: furhter thoughts on (enclosure)

I like the emphasis of the brackets. Very e-mail of them, to make it ascii-graphic like that. Of course, if you wanted to say "writing samples (missing)," which would be more accurate, you'd have to have "missing" be missing, which would cancel it out.

Such irony, to lose what you wanted through emphasizing it so literally.

Makes you think.

I KNEW IT

RadiantFracture, you're a Critic!

Your personality is actually determined by two personality sub-types - your primary, or dominant sub-type, and your secondary sub-type. You are a Critic which means you are a Thinker / Success Your primary sub-type is defined by "Thinker" characteristics and your secondary sub-type is defined by "Success" characteristics.

* * *

Doomed by Internet quizzes.

Let these percent signs stand for my shame: %%%

-rf