Me, I've been, well, fair to middlin', as someone I used to listen to used to say. Been around. Been gettin' by. Been trying to grow my hair. Nothing new there, really; I've been saying that for 20 years, but my hair defies all laws of physics and biology. Despite the regular recurrence of
But I'm trying. I keep trying.
I just haven't had the heart to write, or even to read. And I've been watching much too much mindless television. I was channel flipping one day and came across The Real Housewives of Orange County, and became riveted, the way you become when you see, say, a parade of midgets and giants being led by a morbidly obese woman on a structurally reinforced bicycle on a street in your neighbourhood. I simply could not turn it off, and, worse luck, it was one of those weekend marathons that went on for hours, so I was able to really get to know Vicki (bitch), Jeana (tone down the cleavage, woman, you're not 25 anymore), and Gretchen (bubblehead). The use of the term housewives in the show title is clearly metaphorical, since half of them aren't married, and the half who are have certainly never cleaned a toilet or driven their kids to school or clipped coupons and done the grocery shopping.
Where was I? Oh, right. What I'm doing.
I'm busy writing, which is why I haven't had the time to write. I'm working on that dissertation, and will finish it this summer or die trying. Because that same person I just mentioned, to whom I used to listen, also said, you'll finish it, or I'll need to know the reason why.
So I just returned from the library where I dug out another batch of dusty old books for my research and, armed with them and a lime-raspberry smoothie, I'm getting down to work.
Good lord, I'm so out of it I published this without a title!