Yeah, Write.

"That's not writing; that's just typing." –Truman Capote



We forget all too soon the things we thought we could never forget.
We forget the loves and betrayals alike, forget what we whispered and what we screamed, we forget who we really are.
–Joan Didion

Normally I agree with you, JD, but I don’t know about this one.

The World is Just Awesome

I like this

and this


No cavities. Not one. First time ever. EVER! I even got a “good job!” I’m in utter shock. The mean lady doing the poking and scraping still wasn’t pleasant.


Fear is an odd thing. It’s terrible and wonderful. It can motivate us to do things we might not otherwise do, but it can also keep us from doing things we should do, things we need to do, or things we want to do.

I hate going to the dentist. HATE IT. I’m going today, and I didn’t sleep much because of the fear and anxiety that accompanies this fateful day that has been postponed a few times since December. I don’t know exactly what I fear about it. Well, that’s not entirely true. I fear the blinding pain of a root canal, the discomfort of the drilling, the pinch of each novacaine injection, the unbearable tension that seizes every muscle from head-to-toe. But I’m just going in for a cleaning today…that’s what they say anyway. That’s how they get you in. Then they scold you for drinking coffee, and not flossing, and not doing everything like a dental hygienist would. Sorry, ma’am, but I’m not a dental hygienist. You all have perfectly curved bangs, too much eye makeup and gleaming white Chiclet teeth. I don’t have any of those traits nor do I want them. Well gleaming white perfect teeth wouldn’t be so bad. Probably not in the cards for me though.

I just want to maintain oral health like everybody else. I brush my teeth, I even floss regularly, and I use a stupid mineral-building Listerine fluoride rinse every night. I’ve been told that my teeth are pretty white and appear quite healthy. Sadly though, lurking beneath the surface is Evil. Pure Evil. Dramatic? Yes. But seriously, my mouth is just cursed.

The hyperventilation and panic attacks should set in around the end of 4th block. Until then, I’m going to enjoy the coffee sitting on my desk. I will sip it all day just to spite my dentist. Oh, and this doughnut Mr. Guerin just gave me? I’m all over it.

Of course I will repent and go brush my teeth a little later. That’s what fear does. Fear of worse damage is what will force me into my car this afternoon and make my foot nudge the gas pedal enough to get to Eden Prairie; what will allow me to catch enough of a shallow breath to exit my car, walk through the door and half-smile at the receptionist with the perfect cavity-free mouth. It’s what will compel me to actually open my mouth when prompted and allow the mean lady to jab at my gums until they bleed. It’s what will help me endure the verbal bashing of that mean lady and the dentist himself when they tell me I should be flossing ALL DAY LONG to avoid any further tooth decay. Really? I mean, come on, really!?


Personality Types

So, upon cleaning out some (more) files, I came across some materials from my psychology courses in college. Kiersey’s personality or temperament types was among them. At that time I scored as an INFP, I’m going to take it again, because one can certainly change over the course of six years. Update to come.

I took it. I was “the artist” this time…but then I took it from a different site and am awaiting the results. So it’s not an infallible science, but it’s not altogether inaccurate.

Results in. INFP. I guess I didn’t change that much. I wonder about the source that told me I was an artist. The difference was only one letter though: ISFP. So the difference is whether I trust intuition or concrete sensory experience? Well, it depends…hence the disparity, but evidently I’m for sure introverted (do ya think) I definitely rely on feeling over thinking…hello impulsive emotional reactions, and I’m more inclined to perceive than to judge. These things fit very well.

It’s the sensing versus intuition (the S or the N) that apparently waivers. That makes sense to me. Sometimes I trust my intuition, other times I don’t and I have to rely on concrete sensory observation. This is the same sticking point I had in philosophy when I had to decide between rationalism and empiricism. I wasn’t able. I’m still not able. So perhaps my personality is split. Perhaps I’m a little more complicated than Kiersey or Myers & Briggs wanted. Maybe there isn’t a clear black or white here, maybe I’m just a lovely shade of gray. At least in one area.

What are you?

I Should Be Sleeping

It’s late. It’s Saturday night and instead of sleeping, I’m watching King Kong on TV. It shouldn’t be so convincing, the bond between a giant gorilla and a beautiful woman. But it is. He just wants to save her. He wants her for himself, sure, but he risks life and limb against dinosaurs, chloroform, men with their guns, what appear to be super-sized bats, and more just to ensure her safety. You know the animation is top notch when the pouting and shoulder slump of a make-believe three ton gorilla can make my eyes glisten with tears. That kind of sacrificial love just doesn’t happen anymore! Sure he bit one guy’s head off, but he was just trying to get to Anne. Sure, he destroyed half of 1920s New York, but he was just trying to have a romantic moment with his unlikely lady friend. No need for the guns and the planes. Poor King Kong. It’s time for bed.

To Do List

Things I intend to accomplish this month:

1. Finish my grad school application
2. Get my nose pierced
3. Get a haircut (scheduled: Thurs Wednesday 5:45)

4. Actually go to my yoga class…more than once
5. Clean out my closet
6. Go to the dentist (scheduled: next Wednesday 4:00)
7. Do my finish taxes
8. Renew my license
9. Renew my passport
10. Change my name on important documents. It’s time.

Phonies Mourn Death of J.D. Salinger

Well I guess what I’m gonna do is, I’m gonna suggest that you check this out.

For the record, Salinger really did pass away. The Onion just isn’t known for its reverence.

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