Round-up of the weekend's events

Lately I've been trying to master an entry-level bar chord (F) on the guitar, a quest that has consumed an absurd number stove-hours over the years. My guitar--though wonderful--is huge, so all the fingers have to be placed and torqued just right or the chord will come out as a thunk. I like to think that if this wasn't the case I'd actually be able to play by now, but oh well--practicing one chord endlessly is a nice distraction, better than Tetris. But the problem is, it took me about two weeks to callous up my fingertips and now I can't stop playing, or feeling will return.

Last Thursday at the pub I apparently called someone in my department a "twenty-twoist," which led to jollity and indignation for the rest of the weekend. The kicker, though, is that those who were joining me in making fun of the indignation were all ALSO BORN IN THE EIGHTIES! Of course, many people dear to me were Reagan babies, but I just get sick of always being the eldest. I think I will join a canasta league.

Today I went to the gym and ran, sweaty and panting, in front of a big window past which people were walking in a steady stream on the way to a basketball game--I thought they would entertain me, but it was the other way around; I felt like I was a lab animal overdoing it on the hamster wheel.

I also went to an ESL training for writing tutors where, no joke, the grammar section consisted of us being told what nouns, verbs, and adjectives were . . . I feel like nothing in my life is at the right level. Either I'm too clueless to take part in the discussion at all (ha ha, he DOES need some Derrida!), or I find myself silently grumbling about being earnestly instructed in the remedial and/or obvious. However, there was free pizza. And cookies!