Writing crap

When recently (read; today) e-mailing my online professor*, he commented that "When you whine**, you do it with such grace and elegance!" and that it was a must that I take his next Lit class. Which got me to thinking about my writing style. I of course get my grammar OCD from my 12th grade English teacher (St. Rene Jost who called all of us in Advanced Placement "morons") and an 8th grade English teacher (whose only pet peeve was people who used "alot"). Fine, but that's just using proper grammar. I finally pegged it down to reading too much Robin McKinley at too early an age (possibly not possible, but 5th grade does seem a little early for Spindle's End, in hindsight). This early education in over use of parenthesis and rambling has possibly corrupted me for life. Now that I'm older (not wiser) and reading her blog, it's good to know that there are others out there that jump around (and asterisk the be-jeezus out of everything) as much as I was in middle school. Meaning that I was writing like that in middle school, and finding her blog in college was a wonderful confirmation of my madness.


* McGarvey's Modern American Literature. God, what an awful thing. Seriously, the Things They Carried? I've been bitching about reading that since high school.*** Who assigns that in college? I can't grouse too much about the class though. The professor is wonderful. The material... leaves something to be desired.

**I just assume the whining comes from my mother (Love you, mom. <3)

*** I'm looking at you, D. Wells.

It's going to be a long winter

Being as I don't have a job, and dad pays $5 a basket for me to fold his t shirts (not bad money when you can get it), that was on the agenda for today. So as I'm sitting in the basement staring at the wall and folding (man needs to learn to empty his pockets) he comes down and starts talking about the improvements that are going to be going on and how it's going to be woodstove season soon (very soon). I nod and keep folding, and as he heads up the stairs he goes "yup, this weekend, gonna clean out the woodstove and" *starts humming the theme from Bonanza.*

Wait, Bonanza? We're going to be watching Bonanza? Oh dear god. I'm moving in with Boyfriend this winter.