Oh, I’m starting to get itchy for some intellectual stimulation.  I still need to untangle the whole snafu with my school re-admittance, but I figure I will be going back no later than next fall.  In the meantime, I’m feeling the need to feed my inner academic-geek.  Maybe I will check out some new book on criticism or social theory or something else obscure that no one else follows just so I feel like I’m keeping up. (With who?  I don’t know.)  Yep, I like me some academic writings, boy.

I say all this but the sane part of me then screams… “What are you, nuts? You barely have time to work, blog, and clean yourself?!”  All this squished around the kid, of course.  He IS number one.  (Consequently, I still have some stinky days.)

And then the cynical part of me snickers, “Yeah, right. You may start reading, but are ya gonna finish, slacker girl?”  I admit, school deadlines do help me focus my reading/research.  I have that problem, sometimes, of being interested in too much.

I just start itching for new ideas, OK?  It’s not like I have anyone to discuss this shit with (I’m lucky to have friends that tolerate me when I start waving my hands and blathering on about how The Ring can be seen in the context of a modern myth), and it’s not like I think I’m going to DO anything with it (like win a game show or anything, I can never remember facts/dates anyway, I’m better on theory)… I just like to think about shit occasionally.

Anyway, I know who will win.  The realistic part of me rolls her eyes, and scoffs, “OK honey, really, I know you want to keep your mind “active” and all, but you just got the new sci-fi/comic/vampire book you have been waiting on for how long?  Seriously, what are ya gonna read?”   

OK, I give up.  Time for pulp.            – the weirdgirl