Itinerary
I have a free day today. No school, no health clinic, no exercising. So I'm going to make a record of what I'm doing every couple hours so I don't waste my day watching bad television.
7:15
I made breakfast for Drew (oatmeal, coffee, fruit). We discussed tonight's dinner plans with our friend K.D. and who we want to invite to our Goodbye-L.A. picnic in June.
8:04
I started this blog entry.
9:23
I washed the breakfast dishes and read some of the newspaper. Wolfowitz is in trouble, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. The guy's clearly a tool and I'd love to see him thrown in Guantanamo for lying and deceiving re: the war. But I'm not totally convinced that he acted so badly when he got his partner a raise. He was having her moved to a different part of the bank so that he wouldn't be her supervisor anymore -- trying to avoid a clear ethics violation. So he got her a nice raise in exchange for disrupting her career. Maybe I'm wrong about those details, but if I'm not then I'm thinking they should just leave the guy alone.
I read part of The Orchard Keeper. I'm not sure about it anymore. It's starting to feel like a Faulkner knockoff; baroque, Southern morality tale. I should read more Faulkner. The Sound and the Fury is the only one I've managed to get through. Plus some short stories in high school. I need to finish this book today and start the bookclub book.
10:52
Bathed. Started the laundry. Picked up the bedroom. Watched 3 minutes of Charlie Rose and 20 minutes of The View. Read "Talk of the Town" in this week's New Yorker. Circled the words I need to look up.
11:50
Read more of the newspaper. Our landlord brought someone by to check out our apartment. My med school sent me an email inviting me to join a blog they just created for the first-year students; I had a moment of panic when I realized that by accepting the invitation, blogspot automatically linked my blog to the med school blog. I quickly made sure no one could get from there to here.
1:10
I talked to my little sister on the phone. I tried to play with Madeline, but she would have nothing to do with me. I read through some medicine-related blogs.
4:04
I took a nap. I talked to my mother on the phone. I finished the newspaper.
I finished The Orchard Keeper. I didn't enjoy it, I must say. I thought his writing was flowery and florid writing puts me to sleep. Example (I'm going to flip to a random page and give you a taste): "They go on--steps soft now in the rank humus earth or where carapaced with lichens the texture of old green velvet, or wet and spongy earth tenoned with roots, the lecherous ganglia of things growing--coming down, pursuing the shadowline into the smoking river valley." Yeah. You know, I really don't want that. Don't need it. When I read a novel I want to be in a character's head. I want to hear his thoughts and watch him make decisions and see him acting with and against his instincts. I want to finish a book and feel like I've had a deep connection with some character or some idea or even just one particular moment in the story. I don't want these long descriptive passages that serve no other purpose than to make everyone think Cormac McCarthy has an impressive vocabulary.
7:15
I made breakfast for Drew (oatmeal, coffee, fruit). We discussed tonight's dinner plans with our friend K.D. and who we want to invite to our Goodbye-L.A. picnic in June.
8:04
I started this blog entry.
9:23
I washed the breakfast dishes and read some of the newspaper. Wolfowitz is in trouble, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. The guy's clearly a tool and I'd love to see him thrown in Guantanamo for lying and deceiving re: the war. But I'm not totally convinced that he acted so badly when he got his partner a raise. He was having her moved to a different part of the bank so that he wouldn't be her supervisor anymore -- trying to avoid a clear ethics violation. So he got her a nice raise in exchange for disrupting her career. Maybe I'm wrong about those details, but if I'm not then I'm thinking they should just leave the guy alone.
I read part of The Orchard Keeper. I'm not sure about it anymore. It's starting to feel like a Faulkner knockoff; baroque, Southern morality tale. I should read more Faulkner. The Sound and the Fury is the only one I've managed to get through. Plus some short stories in high school. I need to finish this book today and start the bookclub book.
10:52
Bathed. Started the laundry. Picked up the bedroom. Watched 3 minutes of Charlie Rose and 20 minutes of The View. Read "Talk of the Town" in this week's New Yorker. Circled the words I need to look up.
11:50
Read more of the newspaper. Our landlord brought someone by to check out our apartment. My med school sent me an email inviting me to join a blog they just created for the first-year students; I had a moment of panic when I realized that by accepting the invitation, blogspot automatically linked my blog to the med school blog. I quickly made sure no one could get from there to here.
1:10
I talked to my little sister on the phone. I tried to play with Madeline, but she would have nothing to do with me. I read through some medicine-related blogs.
4:04
I took a nap. I talked to my mother on the phone. I finished the newspaper.
I finished The Orchard Keeper. I didn't enjoy it, I must say. I thought his writing was flowery and florid writing puts me to sleep. Example (I'm going to flip to a random page and give you a taste): "They go on--steps soft now in the rank humus earth or where carapaced with lichens the texture of old green velvet, or wet and spongy earth tenoned with roots, the lecherous ganglia of things growing--coming down, pursuing the shadowline into the smoking river valley." Yeah. You know, I really don't want that. Don't need it. When I read a novel I want to be in a character's head. I want to hear his thoughts and watch him make decisions and see him acting with and against his instincts. I want to finish a book and feel like I've had a deep connection with some character or some idea or even just one particular moment in the story. I don't want these long descriptive passages that serve no other purpose than to make everyone think Cormac McCarthy has an impressive vocabulary.
Labels: Books, Drew, Little Sister, Madeline, Medical School, Mom, Politics
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