Another Winner!

Apparently, being interviewed by The Globe about Harry Potter is AWESOME creep bait.

Like this guy:




...who just sent me a message on facebook. Granted, he does not take the "sincere" route preferred by ESL students the world over of admitting he messaged me because he thinks I'm cute, so perhaps he really *is* only interested in knowing:

How on earth do you land a mugshot on the front page!?! Nice.

But when someone's profile picture depicts them RIDING A SADDLE making a CRAZY FACE in what I can only describe as a Conservative Asshole Polo Shirt (tm), this is one of those situations where you run first, and ponder later.

Famous!

Yes, that's right folks- I am officially famous. I am on the cover of today's Boston Globe. Below the fold, but still. Read the online article here!

So far, this article has:

a) tempted hostility from my students at Tenacity, by misrepresenting comments I made, as a Harry Potter fan, about the pluses and minuses of the books generally as comments I made, as some kind of youth literacy expert, about the tendencies of my actual students. Thankfully this tempted hostility has yet to manifest itself. However, I fear the kids are merely waiting until they have their weapon of choice (individual copies of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, of course) to fall upon me en masse and bludgeon me to death. Only time will tell.

b) led to some deeply creepy ESL student from Somerville attempting to pick me up through Amazon. He said, and I do quote, that I have beautiful eyes. Because THAT'S original. You know he's probably like 42 and still living in his mother's basement. I know that The Girl's Guide to Life says that saying no to one date is saying NO to dating but... I'm justified in this case, I think.

Kerry and I agree that in the romantic comedy version of my life, I'm making a serious error in judgment, because obviously my ESL student is played by like, some very attractive foreign guy, like Diego Luna, and he and I are meant to have hilarious language mix-ups, fantastic sex, a lovely wedding, and adorable babies (to roll photo album style through the credits).

However, in the suspense/horror movie version of my life, I should... basically have contacted the cops. Yesterday. Because he is clearly going to stalk and maim me. And, when you think about it,that's really the only thing the Harry Potter series is missing- a tied-in serial killing spree.

What Comes of Mixing Good Scottish Stock with... French Blood

While in the past, the "Willison tribe" was decribed as "a healthy minded and industrious race" who had, during their "long residence in Western Maryland," "never yet occupied a Suite of Rooms at the County Home or retired to an asylum," ever since our miscegentation with those French/German rapscallions, the Shaners, we've become stark raving loonies, and are likely to begin populating the asylums of the Greater Boston area any day now. 

I love googling myself. In other news, I may or may not be a little related to Martha Washington. 

The Funny Things You Find Cleaning Your Room...

When your mom is slightly crazy and never throws anything away:

A copy of The Boston Globe Magazine from November 1993, with a cover story about the former headmaster of your high school.

The coverstory's original title?

Tough Love at Latin.

What your THEN-42-YEAR OLD mother has changed it to:

Tough SHIT (this is on a little piece of white paper, meticulously cut out and SHIT is not just capitals, but in square bubble letters) at Latin. 

When I first saw this, I assumed it was something Robert had done. Then I showed it to my mom, who is now 56, and she readily owned that the culprit was she. She remains quite proud of her work.

Heartbreak Is:

Waiting anxiously for weeks for DVD ordered through the BPL to arrive, only to discover it is scratched so badly that, save tantalizing 2 minute snippets, it's completely unwatchable. 

What makes this already tragic situation even more heartbreaking is the DVD in question, Regency House Party, is one I have waited ANXIOUSLY to see for eons. I mean, truly, it combines a) reality TV dating shows, b) the PBS "house" series (which I would volunteer for in an eyeblink, p.s., I don't care how miserable it looks), and c) Courtship in Regency England-- could there be anything more glorious? 

Woe truly is I today. 

Snooze Button Dreams

This morning, between snoozes (when I have my only vivid dreams), I had two that were somewhat revealing. First, as myself, I dreamed that I was getting a drink at Doyle's and had a guy I had absolutely no interest in try to start a conversation with me about the stuff I had scribbled on my hands. I had something about Dunkin' Donuts written on the back of my right hand, and he said "Oh, they have Dunkin' Donuts here? I didn't know they had them on the East Coast (which even in my dream I thought was weird and stupid, because you can't go two feet without seeing a Dunkies here) and then he asked me for my number. I gave him a fake one and ran away so fast that I nearly lost a flip-flop down a subway grate.

In my second dream, I dreamed I was a completely different person (i.e. actually someone other than myself as opposed to actually myself, but completely different from how I currently am), that the person-I-was-but-am-not worked in publishing in New York. The person-I-am-not had no trouble picking up a cute guy she was interested in after bumping into him in the completely imaginary Harper Collins coffee shop.

The meaning of all this is, of course, completely evident: even in my wildest snooze-button dreams, I don't believe I'm capable of attracting guys I'd actually be interested in. Yikes.

Well, if Anna's posting again..

Then I really have no excuse to leave my blog dormant any longer. Not that I really had one before. The last month has been spent in equal parts deep, blissful sloth (as the new Recently Read and Recently Viewed lists screen left indicate), domestic strife (fully expected considering the Mater, but distressing nonetheless), and gnawing fear and sadness (what with the graduating and all).

The reading, sleeping, movie-watching, beer drinking, karoke singing, and other various and sundry activities I've been pursuing since coming home have helped to lessen the pain of leaving Kenyon behind, as have my wonderful Boston friends and my mom... at least, on her sunny mood days. However, there's a persistent blue undertone to my mood that I just can't shake-- Kenyon was a one-of-a-kind place, and one uniquely suited to me. I can't imagine I will ever find a group of friends I'm more loathe to leave behind-- they just aren't the kind of group you find twice. I know there's more out there, and I know it's not as though I'm *actually* losing that group, but email is one thing, and walking 4 minutes to gossip is another.

I hadn't expected this post to be so blue, but I guess that what comes of writing blog entries late at night. If the girls from sobre todo (or any other Kenyonites) are reading this, please know I'm thinking of you, and that I miss you like an amputated limb.

I promise the next entry will be more prompt and more cheerful.

It seems that good things aren't the only ones that end

Because right now, as I type, I am sitting in my very last statistics class ever.

Sadly, it also happens to be the final class of my undergraduate career.

I feel as though I should do something ritualistic and reverential to mark the end of my undergraduate career, like at the very least pay attention to class. But it's stastics. They GIVE YOU a COMPUTER. And then they expect us to focus on.... math? Really Kenyon College? Really?

And now... my final dismissal. And my final exposure to the torando alarm.

The Gambier Metro on a Polaroid

The Gambier Metro on a Polaroid, originally uploaded by completely_spotty.

Annie Lambla's contribution to the Kenyon Performance Art Festival: the Gambier Metro.

Here, Far Rockaway comes to Bexley Hall. Surreal and beautiful.

Second post, same as the first

Which means basically void of any real intellectual value, and produced because I'd rather write it than my now long overdue paper. I promise I will get to explaining the Eliot soon! Promise promise promise. Also, I promise a post on how weird the Pre-Raphaelite obsession with Ophelia is, and what the hell that has to do with Hello Saferide.

For serious guys, I am going to write smart things here someday.

But for now, all I really have to say is this: I want to be live in New York and be a YA author, just so I can hang out with these guys.