Orlando grew rapidly this past week, although some post-growth shrinkage is expected.
Currently standing at 50 pages, she's become quite a talker. The only problem is that right now she's mainly mimicking what other people say, rather than speaking for herself. Anyway, originality isn't all it's cracked up to be. I'm hoping she'll have a career in parody. Or ghost writing. Or miming. She's in a dumb shows kick right now anyway...
(Yes, her gender fluctuates pretty frequently.)
Every now and then, I can coax her to spend a day with her friends Faustus, Modo, and Dana while I take some time to myself; unfortunately, she's usually furious with me the whole next day as a result.
She (all 32-page chapter one of her) is off to the pediatrician again this weekend, and I'm pretending she doesn't really have to grow up. Not right away. Not for a long time. Right?
Right.
Just keep telling yourself that.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Friday, February 18, 2011
Conspiracy Theory
Sunday, February 13, 2011
How do I feel about thee, thesis mine?
In honor of Flying Fork Day, I've written an English sonnet* for the (____) of my life, Orlando.
Enjoy.
Or not.
And so forth.
----
How Do I Feel About Thee, Thesis Mine?
How do I feel about thee, thesis mine?
(To speak my truest feelings were not meet.)
Oh let me see that Times New Roman line--
I feel a thrill to see thy serifed feet.
Thy prose doth make me blush to rhyme;
To speak upon thy title, 'twould be sin;
Thy use of commas is perforce sublime,
As if to pardon all contained within.
The books that buttress thee 'gainst harm
Hath grown so tall they block the morning light.
Dear Shakespeare knoweth not thy greatest charm,
For having known thy kind, he died of fright.
Orlando, thou deserv'st no less than this:
To see me smile, then shred thee in pure bliss.
*Inspired by PhD Comics.
Enjoy.
Or not.
And so forth.
----
How Do I Feel About Thee, Thesis Mine?
How do I feel about thee, thesis mine?
(To speak my truest feelings were not meet.)
Oh let me see that Times New Roman line--
I feel a thrill to see thy serifed feet.
Thy prose doth make me blush to rhyme;
To speak upon thy title, 'twould be sin;
Thy use of commas is perforce sublime,
As if to pardon all contained within.
The books that buttress thee 'gainst harm
Hath grown so tall they block the morning light.
Dear Shakespeare knoweth not thy greatest charm,
For having known thy kind, he died of fright.
Orlando, thou deserv'st no less than this:
To see me smile, then shred thee in pure bliss.
*Inspired by PhD Comics.
Friday, February 4, 2011
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
My friend's he(art) for life
Today, I want to give a shout-out to my friend Carrie's blog over at http://heartforlifexxx.blogspot.com. She's currently doing a fundraiser with original art pieces to support the Bangalore City Mission in India, where she and family spent some time last month.
Her pieces are really cool, and the Mission, a locally-run organization, looks like it does some great work. Check it out!
Her pieces are really cool, and the Mission, a locally-run organization, looks like it does some great work. Check it out!
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
Part .9999999998
(I hesitate to call it part one, because I'm not sure yet what "part one" actually means.)
As of the post-midnight hours of the morning, Orlando is now on his first visit to the pediatrician (i.e. my adviser) for a check-up. In the last four days, he grew by about 18 pages, so he's now closer to his projected age/size ratio. However, the word is now that s/he may end up a little bigger than formerly expected. That remains to be seen.
In the meantime, I'm not really feeling the separation anxiety. More like the I-don't-think-I-want-to-hear-the-doctor's-report anxiety.
However, while I'm still doing research on my next/first chapter, I'm also enjoying the chance to work on a creative writing piece I started last year. I like writing dialogue. Much better than deconstructing it. That's all.
As of the post-midnight hours of the morning, Orlando is now on his first visit to the pediatrician (i.e. my adviser) for a check-up. In the last four days, he grew by about 18 pages, so he's now closer to his projected age/size ratio. However, the word is now that s/he may end up a little bigger than formerly expected. That remains to be seen.
In the meantime, I'm not really feeling the separation anxiety. More like the I-don't-think-I-want-to-hear-the-doctor's-report anxiety.
However, while I'm still doing research on my next/first chapter, I'm also enjoying the chance to work on a creative writing piece I started last year. I like writing dialogue. Much better than deconstructing it. That's all.
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