Green

First of all, I'm upset with the lack of photo-ness on my blog. I got as far as the downloading of the photo-doohicky that allows you to upload pics from your computer. But I still haven't installed my scanner software into my new frankensteinian computer. (My old computer, Edith* was euthanized and then reborn into new form. Nice trick. She is now split into neat Freudian categories: the Superego, affectionately known as "Mutt," the id, "Edith Jr." and the ego, "Jeff." This brings me to a brief but hopefully pithy aside about my own love of naming inanimate objects. I'm the embarassing type of person who searches for just the right name for a car. I mean it--it might take days to hit just the right name. Now, you can argue that it's related to some squishy feminine trait, as in, real men would never name a mere machine. I'll ignore you, but you can argue, if you like. And yes, as a matter of fact, I do like quiche, you must be right. Or we can get metaphysical about the attempt to humanize the increasingly mechanized and isolating technological world. Hard to beat that theory. I guess sometimes I'd just call it whimsy. A superstitious but {mostly}amusing whimsy. And sometimes I think it's because it's hard to curse well at something without a name. But there's something decidedly satisfying about finding just the right name. Something about the power of names, maybe, as in the old wizardry of true naming begetting power over a thing; something about the richness that comes with charactering our lives with certain personalities we ourselves create; something about the power of belief. I mean, have you ever named something by accident? That name just stuck. And it comes to mean something to you, the way Jennifer will always mean that girl you hated in elementary school, or how you always find yourself attracted to men named "Chris" {which stinks for you, since that name's awfully common}. Woe betide you if the personality you've accidently created comes to mean inconsistency, or maliganancy--that lemon of a car, or that evil computer--for in these cases you are making your own destiny. That is, if you are the type of person to name inanimate objects.)

Anyway, I was going to say that I'm green with envy over my dear friend's recent travels and housey projects. Recently I have begun longing for a more settled sort of spot, without projected life upheaveals. I can't say I'm unhappy with school. Today, for example, was a great day. And yet...and yet. I have felt so unfinished for so long. I know this desire for "finish" for the compelling illusion it is, but the definition of compelling illustrates the problem. Maybe it's only the Mass disatisfaction kicking in harder. Maybe only the ticking of that infamous bioligical clock (talk about the power of naming--what might we look like as a nation without that cultural mythos?). Maybe it's related to ice cream for lunch (yesterday) and chocolate pecan pie for dinner (today). Maybe spring fever? Are all of these on your current rule-out list? Treatment: supportive care, make-up to conceal that fresh grass cast to the skin, a bolus of see-how-much-fun-vet school can be? We'll have to wait and see how she does...

*I swear to you, the first day I started my computer, the computer icon or some welcome screen said something about my computer, Edith. No, I don't partake of the things you suggest, nor have I ever been hospitalized. For anything. Her name was just Edith. Why do you find this hard to believe?