sincerely, me

I despise pet names. I hate them. If anyone ever calls me baby--well, let's just say, you can be sure they would never think to call me baby again. I don't know why, but this morning while driving to school, I thought about how much I detest pet names, and what I would say if anyone ever brought up pet names in my presence. And I figured it out: "Pet names are just words that try to portray affection but don't really mean anything." Poetic, right? So why does no one ever ask me the questions I've found the perfect answer to? They ask plenty of questions I have no idea how to answer ("How much is left in my Ozzie bucks?", "Est-ce que tu as cours cette été?"), but no one ever (or, rarely) asks the questions I want them to. Why is that? Why can't people read my mind and give me what I want without having to tell them what it is? (Yes, I know, we're not mind readers, but that would be so cool, wouldn...

So, I've been meaning to write a new blog post, but I didn't want it to be without meaning. And, earlier this week, it acquired meaning. My sister got my purse stolen. Now, before I let you think this was all about me, the only thing that was in the purse that was mine was my calculator, which in itself is a great loss, because it was a TI84 Plus Silver Edition. The purse itself was also mine. My sister lost her camera, phone, iPod, pencils, and, she made sure to tell me, "three pads in the front pocket." There was more, but I forgot it all (and reason) when I flew off the handle at her for losing my purse. It was $50, I told her, and even more valuable to me. The thing is, I hadn't used the purse in a least a year, if not more. But suddenly, I deeply felt the connection I'd made to my purse, and my calculator, through the time they were both mine. Why is it that people form such great attachments to things? I am so attached to books (and not just on...

I recently (about two minutes ago) watched a movie called It Could Happen to You . In it, a cop Charlie buys a lottery ticket for his wife Muriel, who had a dream the night before about winning the lottery. He stops at a small restaurant for coffee afterward but doesn't have enough to give the waitress Yvonne a tip. He promises to come back the next day and give her a) half of his lottery winnings or b) twice the tip. He wins the lottery. He wins four million dollars and gives Yvonne, as promised, two million. Muriel gets angry at his "giving away" their winnings and eventually asks for a divorce. Charlie gives her his half of their winnings, yet she demands the waitress' part as well. In court, the jury awards Muriel all the money. But! The story does end happily with the people of New York (where the story is based) sending Yvonne and Charlie (who are now, of course, a very happy couple) $600,000. Yay! And Muriel marries a guy who takes all of her money and ...