1. I prefer salty to sugary.
2. I've turned into a bit of a loner.
3. I like watching TV by myself. Unless I've already seen it, then I like to watch it with Steven. He always laughs more than anyone.
4. If I could get paid more for my job, I would probably stay there forever.
5. I'm very picky about food and drink.
6. I'm snooty about beer. As in, I don't like to drink anything I can see through. Or anything that comes in a can.
7. I really enjoy quiet, slow movies.
8. My tolerance for violence in movies has gone way down. I don't think I would be able to watch Tarantino anymore.
9. Even though I tease Abby about it, I will put off cutting my toenails for weeks.
10. I set my alarm for an hour before I have to get up.
11. The only way I can really get up on time is if I have to go to the bathroom. So I drink a ton of water right before I go to sleep.
12. I'm obsessed with trying to figure out my real motivation for things.
13. I fear that I'm too selfish.
14. I love all things orange.
15. I spend too much money at Urban Outfitters.
16. I like to decorate my apartment with strange looking art.
17. I wish I was better at photography.
18. I hate wearing jeans.
19. I wear dresses in the winter, even when I walk to work.
20. I've become the weird lady with colored socks.
21. I wish I lived in a different decade.
22. Carnival food is my comfort food.
23. I rarely finish milk before it expires.
24. I like to write from life.
25. I always wish I had more to say.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Saturday, January 10, 2009
A ha!
I discovered her.
Obviously, President-elect Barack Obama has been reading *my* blog for advice about which poet to pick for the Inauguration.
This little ditty was posted in my blog waaaaay back in July 2007.
Blues- Elizabeth Alexander
I am lazy, the laziest
girl in the world. I sleep during
the day when I want to, ’til
my face is creased and swollen,
’til my lips are dry and hot. I
eat as I please: cookies and milk
after lunch, butter and sour cream
on my baked potato, foods that
slothful people eat, that turn
yellow and opaque beneath the skin.
Sometimes come dinnertime Sunday
I am still in my nightgown, the one
with the lace trim listing because
I have not mended it. Many days
I do not exercise, only
consider it, then rub my curdy
belly and lie down. Even
my poems are lazy. I use
syllabics instead of iambs,
prefer slant to the gong of full rhyme,
write briefly while others go
for pages. And yesterday,
for example, I did not work at all!
I got in my car and I drove
to factory outlet stores, purchased
stockings and panties and socks
with my father’s money.
To think, in childhood I missed only
one day of school per year. I went
to ballet class four days a week
at four-forty-five and on
Saturdays, beginning always
with plie, ending with curtsy.
To think, I knew only industry,
the industry of my race
and of immigrants, the radio
tuned always to the station
that said, Line up your summer
job months in advance. Work hard
and do not shame your family,
who worked hard to give you what you have.
There is no sin but sloth. Burn
to a wick and keep moving.
I avoided sleep for years,
up at night replaying
evening news stories about
nearby jailbreaks, fat people
who ate fried chicken and woke up
dead. In sleep I am looking
for poems in the shape of open
V’s of birds flying in formation,
or open arms saying, I forgive you, all.
And now, that little biddy has been selected as America's 4th Inaugural poet.
All thanks to me.
Boo-yah.
Obviously, President-elect Barack Obama has been reading *my* blog for advice about which poet to pick for the Inauguration.
This little ditty was posted in my blog waaaaay back in July 2007.
Blues- Elizabeth Alexander
I am lazy, the laziest
girl in the world. I sleep during
the day when I want to, ’til
my face is creased and swollen,
’til my lips are dry and hot. I
eat as I please: cookies and milk
after lunch, butter and sour cream
on my baked potato, foods that
slothful people eat, that turn
yellow and opaque beneath the skin.
Sometimes come dinnertime Sunday
I am still in my nightgown, the one
with the lace trim listing because
I have not mended it. Many days
I do not exercise, only
consider it, then rub my curdy
belly and lie down. Even
my poems are lazy. I use
syllabics instead of iambs,
prefer slant to the gong of full rhyme,
write briefly while others go
for pages. And yesterday,
for example, I did not work at all!
I got in my car and I drove
to factory outlet stores, purchased
stockings and panties and socks
with my father’s money.
To think, in childhood I missed only
one day of school per year. I went
to ballet class four days a week
at four-forty-five and on
Saturdays, beginning always
with plie, ending with curtsy.
To think, I knew only industry,
the industry of my race
and of immigrants, the radio
tuned always to the station
that said, Line up your summer
job months in advance. Work hard
and do not shame your family,
who worked hard to give you what you have.
There is no sin but sloth. Burn
to a wick and keep moving.
I avoided sleep for years,
up at night replaying
evening news stories about
nearby jailbreaks, fat people
who ate fried chicken and woke up
dead. In sleep I am looking
for poems in the shape of open
V’s of birds flying in formation,
or open arms saying, I forgive you, all.
And now, that little biddy has been selected as America's 4th Inaugural poet.
All thanks to me.
Boo-yah.
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