7 pages?!

I've decided to take the M.A exam this May rather than November because, frankly, I'm ready to end this chapter of my life. There's just one, tiny problem... I printed out the M.A reading list, and it is seven pages long. That's right! Seven! 7! Siete! Sieben!

Ok, bring on the Faulkner. Hello, Hawthorne. Good morning, Dryden. I still hate you, Faerie Queene.

The little finch

Yesterday I tried to save a bird. I hope I did. He was the sweetest little thing.

I picked him up--he couldn't fly, only spun in tight circles on the ground--and he nestled

in my hand. His little feet gripped my thumb and I sheltered his unbelievably light body

from the wind with my other hand.

I met an old woman who told me he was a finch. Finches like thistle seeds, she said. She

put a pinch of them in my hand and wished me well, but the finch didn't eat them.

I became fiercly protective of my little finch (yes, I thought of him as mine, now) and told

myself I'd do anything to save him. I locked Kamilla out of my room (she yowled and pawed

at my door like a wild thing) and decided to take the finch to the vet. Surely they'd know

what was wrong with him.

Emilie drove us to the vet and a rather unsympathetic Dr. Sheila said "it's probably a neurological problem... there doesn't seem to be any broken bones... but he doesn't want to

use his legs." She concluded with "I'd be happy to euthanize him for you!" She must have seen my horror, because she quickly offered "or you could call Pacific Wildlife."

Back at home, I called Pacific Wildlife and put the finch in his coffee filter box with his thistle seeds and one of my socks for him to warm himself. The bond was getting stronger and stronger. I love animals, of course, but this was an urgent sort of love. He HAD to get better. I put droplets of water on his beak and he tried to swallow them, but eventually they just fizzed in the corners of his beak. I just let him rest and waited for P.W to call.

Within 40 minutes I was in Morro Bay at the Pacific Wildlife center. They took the finch, took down all the information I had, and a nice young lady told me I could call back to check on him if I wanted. I did want to, but the fear of receiving bad news would devastate me too much. Maybe I'll give it another day.

As I got in my car, I realized they still had my sock. I was glad.

One of my favorites

THAT crazed girl improvising her music.
Her poetry, dancing upon the shore,
Her soul in division from itself
Climbing, falling
She knew not where,
Hiding amid the cargo of a steamship,
Her knee-cap broken, that girl I declare
A beautiful lofty thing, or a thing
Heroically lost, heroically found.
No matter what disaster occurred
She stood in desperate music wound,
Wound, wound, and she made in her triumph
Where the bales and the baskets lay
No common intelligible sound
But sang, 'O sea-starved, hungry sea.'

William Butler Yeats

Brave New Year

Prosit Neujahr! May all of your resolutions be obtained, and if you didn't make resolutions, then blast you for your perfection and/or contentment! Just kidding... sort of.

I am a believer in resolutions, but not necessarily new year resolutions. It's certainly convenient to have a brand new year to start out with, though, don't you think? If I lived in a colder climate, I think I'd be even more enthused about the new year: every breath of cool, crisp air would fill me with hope and a sense of freshness. As it is, I'm fanning myself at my desk in the morning and afternoons and wrapping myself up in blankets (no snuggies, please) at night. But I digress.

I've made a few resolutions, but all of them fall under one category:

TREATING MYSELF BETTER

It's not that I was some masochistic maniac before, but I certainly lost sight of priorities. (What's panic attacks and high blood pressure when one can get straight As?) Now, however, I have resolved to treat myself like *I* matter, not just my academic output, if that makes sense.

Two mantras to help me that I discovered in the most shameful places (i.e- a Mary Engelbreit calander and PEOPLE magazine):

1. The world is full of cactus (no, not cacti) but you don't have to sit on it.

2. Nobody ever wins an argument.

Irrelevant bonus tip: If you're going to attempt Julia Child's Beouf Bourguignon, make sure to set aside at least SIX hours... This is especially important if you invite your aunt over at 5:00pm and she expects dinner at this time.

Second irrelevant bonus tip: Do not trust pumpkin pie recipes you find online if there are more than a few typos on the website... you will end up with a flavorless pumpkin quiche.

So, there you have it. Treat yourself well, don't sit on a cactus, don't try to win an argument, avoid pumpkin pie recipes with typos, and have a ________(insert fabulous adjective here) new year!

*Painting by Camilla Engman called "The Adventure"