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Location: Southeastern, United States

Thursday, October 13, 2005

And They Will Call Me Señora Whiney

Earlier this week, from the Land of Cranky:

Krispy Kreme, You Are Not My Friend

This morning I ate half a Krispy Kreme doughnut for the first time in upwards of four months. Between shaking like a junkie, watching all my vision narrow to a single point, and taking over my development class in a sugar-induced frenzy to explain how IBM believes in the tragedy of the commons - which they do - I am starting to think that one day I will be found living under an overpass in a filthy nest of Karamel Kreme Krunch boxes. OR I COULD JUST AVOID DOUGHNUTS.

I Refuse to Blame My Pants

I have been living in Fat Girl Land lately. I am to the point where I try not to sit next to thinner people, and cultivate a deep and burning resentment of people who, say, can go around eating cookies and still have a discernable jawline. I have also taken to eating peanut butter with a spoon. I realize I am but a tourist, not a permanent resident, until the scale says I'm more than, say, four pounds different away from skinny. It is all in my head, no doubt. (At the same time, this thing with the peanut butter, that has to stop.)

Today, Still in the Land of Cranky

Also, I am allergic to my dormitory, over the weekend I 1) was stranded in Yadkinville with an incompatible fellow traveler for six hours 2) was forced to listen to Rancid for about eight 3) Got an F on a paper I thought was, failure-wise, more of a B-minus.

Whining: a Meta-Analysis, With a Startling Change from Jovial to Reflective

I am cursed with a slightly better-than-average liking for pattern analysis. While this is in some ways fun - I know how the movie will end far earlier than other people would ever want to - it also means I tend to characterize things as trends that will drastically affect the future. (This is also inherited. My father, for instance, will punctuate an argument on where to properly dispose of seed-bearing weeds with a pronouncement that GOOD ANTHROPOLOGISTS ARE NOT SO STUBBORN and maybe I should seek a different field, such as that of Official Pain in the Ass. My father likes me and thinks of this as fulfilling his duty of moral education.) This can, however, be problematic when I, say, have a headache, a bad day, and a paper on which my professor wrote "Child, why do you DO things like this?" in big red letters. The healthy thing to do would be to take an aspirin, wash my face, and set about rewriting the paper. The healthy thing to do is not to crawl into bed to stay, convinced that this illustrates a deep-seated intellectual/moral flaw which will tarnish my entire future. If a consistant theme must really be found, that theme could most likely be stated "Papers written the morning they are due, without reference to the assignment sheet, for notoriously hard-grading professors seldom work out very well."

IN SHORT I AM FINE.

How are you all? Well, I hope?

love,
alex

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