Noise, in and out

* The Simple Plan CD No Pads, No Helmets...Just Balls is really very good. Not just "good", but something quite beyond that. It's excellent. It's repetitive and juvenile, but ingratiating and just what I want right now.
* On Friday we had a 30+ minute fire thing at work, alarms ringing, everyone standing outside, emergency people wandering around--the whole bit. It turned out to be a minor problem with the elevator that was fixable that afternoon, but it was nice to have an unplanned break. Today we had a brown-out that lasted about an hour. As a cataloger, there's not a lot I can do without a computer. Again, it was nice to get away with doing almost nothing during the middle of the day. I could get used to this.
* I've been reading poetry lately. Mostly Bukowski and Akhmatova. It's not something that I should do very often. My college roommate Christine used to say that drinking wine coolers made her horny but drinking vodka made her angry and sometimes violent. I think poetry makes me maudlin, but maybe it's a chicken-or-the-egg thing.
* You've heard this before, I know, but this time it's true: I sent the final revision of my thesis to the grad school today. I should use the word "correction" rather than "revision" since it was literally just a few commas and things that needed to be changed. I already have an official transcript, hologram affixed, stating that I graduated in April (although how that works, I'll never understand). So, but for the final few financial bits, it's done. Another all but useless degree in the drawer.

look at me
Think back and talk to me
Did I grow up according
To plan?
Do you think I'm wasting
My time doing things I
Wanna do?

* Feeling a little vain about my feet today (for odd but understandable, if unexplainable reasons), I wore my darker brown lace-up-the-ankle sandals. Not really thinking about needing to dash over to the Post Office with the package for the grad school at noon. They're cute shoes, but they come untied at the most inopportune moments--like when I'm scooting across the street almost against the light, the nails on one hand still wet so I can't tuck the laces in with it. Sigh. These shoes are like cucumbers. I wear them so I can remember why I don't like to wear them, and I eat cucumbers occasionally so I can remember why I don't particularly like to eat them.

    Gosh, wasn't that a fascinating revelation?

* Finally, the most-asked question of the day:

Which Literature Classic Am I?

Oscar Wilde:  The Portrait of Dorian Gray. You are a horror novel from the world of
dandies, rich pretty boys, art and aesthetics, and
intellectual debates between ethical people and
decadent pleasure-seekers. You value
beauty and pleasure but realize their dangers, as well.
Which literature classic are you?
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