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Stuff Heather Thinks is Super Great

The cute bookshelf imagery of iBooks. But not so much, upon clearing my head of Wednesday’s Apple-fizzle, the iPad itself, which still lacks Flash rendering and multi-application usage. Oh, and it’s got the worst name ever. Wherefore the iSlate?

Cameron on Modern Family. Totes the best, amirite? (Also, fun fact! Eric Stonestreet, who plays Cameron, played Sheldon the “Your mother called…. She’s a handful” desk clerk in Almost Famous! Sheldon the desk clerk is one of my favorite parts of that whole movie. Along with all the other parts of it.)

Amber Rubarth’s “You Will Love This Song.” I do, Amber! I do! I am sorry the person you wrote it for felt differently, but I am very glad you wrote it.

Shout-out to my fellow thesis writers! On occasion I get fed up with my thesis and decide that the whole endeavor has been a poor idea from the start, but even then, I am glad to be ranked among your numbers. We should have more get-togethers of gossip, olive tapenade and cheese blocks.

If Matthew Weiner brought Salvatore Romano back onto Mad Men. OH WAIT, that’s not happening. When Pete Campbell stole American Tobacco for SCDP, I can’t say I didn’t foresee this coming, but can’t we just overlook period accuracy in this one instance? Maybe Sal could come back later into Season 4? Do it for the Nielsens. Do it for the happiness of your audience, while has been so very kind to you. Come on, dude!

Guys, look how cool this Helvetica cookie cutters are:
You know you want them, let’s be real. Who wouldn’t? I make cookies from a box and I still want them.

DAVID BOIES AND JUDGE WALKER. Because they know what’s up. Namely: that it is not 1963. So why is California treating its LGBTQ citizens as if they are Salvatore Romano and the state Don Draper?

In a related note, let’s talk “heteronormativity”! My Queer Studies class spent two (of three) sessions this week just deconstructing the concept. I do not think I have enjoyed a class more in a long time. Judith Butler? Roderick Ferguson? Yes, please!

Push, Sapphire. Yes, it’s time already: the other session for that class was spent discussing this, which we had to read for homework. Did I think I was braced for it? Yes. Was I? No way in hell. Am I really glad I finally read this, because it is important and engaging and intelligent and raw? For sure. Like everyone else’s who has read this book, my heart broke on every paragraph. Totally worth it.

On a lighter note, libraries are all the rage this week: Flavorwire has a list up of their favorite library-referencing tracks and over in Britain, some citizens decided to create the world’s smallest library in one of their phone booths.

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boy are we bad at updating!

Sorry about that.

So: here is an update!  On my life, at least; it may not be as action-packed as Rachel’s (and certainly not as fascinating as the State’s, who has jet-set off to southern California to program computers and –– I imagine –– learn surfing), but it is my own, and thus the only one I’m really qualified to write about.  Well, I’m almost qualified.  Only two more credits!

Apologies for the metaphor.  I tend to get carried away, if you hadn’t noticed.  I digress.  Onto the update I promised.  The reading list planned out for the summer is not going so great, guys.  It’s not that I’m not reading; I’ve been reading a lot, and in fact swallowed the whole of Howard Jacobson’s The Act of Love in five days.  It’s just that, well, Howard Jacobson’s The Act of Love wasn’t actually on the list.  Nor was Ray Bradbury’s We’ll Always Have Paris, nor was Joshua Ferris’s Then We Came to the End.  I keep forgetting to bring the list with me when I hit the library, so that I check out additional, unplanned books along with the one or two I can recall from the list.  Then I add the unplanned books to the list, in order to cross them out when finished.  At this rate the list will never get done.  On a brighter note, though, all this reading has fueled story ideas!  I’ve got three stories going, each three to five pages.  Hopefully I’ll finish them all too.

On a less sunny note, in a far less sunny state than that which contains the State himself, one of my tabs open on Firefox right now is WebMD.  (I see your face, Rachel, your rolling eyes, but this is serious.  No, it’s not schizophrenia or brain tumors.)  Last night my foot started to ache, but I shrugged it off as a temporary cramp, me being on the way to bed; today, however, proved how foolish I was, as it hurts every time I take a step.  I lift my left foot and the top of it flowers into aching pain.  Does that make sense?  An ache that feels sharp?  I can’t think of another way to put it.   I put an icepack on it for a few hours tonight and it’s made no difference.  So yes, I am on WebMD at the moment, but the only answers WebMD has offered are either a broken foot or sciatica –– which I know I don’t have, because family members have it and I know the symptoms.  That leaves the broken foot, an option which my dramatic, vaguely masochistic mind (perhaps it is from reading The Act of Love –– a novel narrated by a self-professed masochist –– that has me thinking this way, but is it not arguable that all dramatic and/or overemotional personalities romanticize suffering?) keeps mulling over for the idea that I might get to use crutches.  Or even a cane!  But really, having a broken foot would suck, and at any rate I have no symptoms of it.  I can walk; there are no bruises; there is no swelling.  There’s just a whole lot of pain whenever I move and a dull ache when it’s not moving.  And I just can’t figure out what the reason for it could be.  I have been dancing a good amount recently, given ny newfound appreciation for Lady Gaga, but when I say “dancing” I mean twirling in the kitchen and criss-crossing in the hall.  So not really dancing, not at all.

[EDIT: WebMD says it could also be metatarsalgia!  There’s quite a few medical terms that I don’t understand being tossed around in this article, but all the words I do understand seem to point to the correct cause.  Either way, looks like I’ll have to skip the gym tomorrow –– it’s supposed to be a lower-body focus day –– in favor of the doctor’s office.]

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beauty like the night (or in space, the day)

Okay, I admit it: today I hung out with the Professor while she schooled me in Star Trek, as per my own request.  Between seeing Spock in heat, fighting Kirk to the death for a lady, and Kirk landing on a planet that shares the same name as the LGBTQ club at my school, we drove to a nearby cafe for some delicious poultry sandwiches involving cheese and spinach.  Such a good time!  Except for a few minutes, while the Professor was waiting for her order, I was totally that person who brings a notebook to the cafe and meticulously writes while blowing on her eccentrically-flavored tea (“chocolate mint truffle,” if the label was to be believed, though I am not sure said label delivered).  I shudder to think how pretentious I must have looked.

But regardless it was a great time.  My appreciation of William Shatner has reached new levels.  And tonight I went to the library, too.  So if you were thinking that I am nothing more than a lousy citizen who lets her mind rot from television in lieu of a mainstream print culture, take that.  Neil Postman, I’m looking at you.

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