Little Clamshell Phone

Not that I believe in magic, but I'm sensing a convergence in my life.

JJF sent me this op-ed (with the comment "lamer and lamer"). It says that we're getting to the point where soon more people will write blogs than read them. And I thought, oh no! Sounds like poetry! With poetry, this observation that people would rather write than read always distresses and perplexes me and makes me feel guilty. I'm so happy that I don't have to care or worry about blogs.

My delinquent professor LOC has still not managed to return my paper, but she did email an end comment today which was actually very astute and helpful. My poetry professor PBE (Piercing Blue Eyes) hasn't been heard from, and I'm afraid he called me back while Bad Motorola was broken earlier this week.

I like to use a headset while talking on my cell phone, but I'm always concerned that people will think I'm talking to myself. I realized today that that's kind of a silly worry, because when I'm not on the phone I do talk to myself.

And then I decided that I think that's okay, because I'm an INFP. So I have worlds in my head. When I took the Myers-Briggs test last spring, I scored as an INTP, which meant, according to the type descriptions, that I was such an abstract thinker I couldn't dress myself in the morning. I was really--irrationally--upset about this, and quietly had a crisis about it during a bizarre weekend in Laughlin, Nevada ("Founded on Fun"). Then I took the test again, and became an INFP, and suddenly everything was better, even though I am only 1% of the population and will have trouble finding a mate.