haikuesday

no, no, it’s the way . . .

you see, it’s her . . . gosh, it’s just . . .

she’s perfect for me.

* * *

to my silver spoon,

go polish your own damn self!

leave no tarnish, please.

* * *

the open heeled shoe –

window to a person’s sole!

a pun worth making

linguisticism

we’re in our second meeting of grad classes at ncsu, and i’ve been reminded today of two absolute truths that happen way too often in liberal arts grad classes:

absolute truth the 1st)  a liberal arts graduate student (minus myself, of course, because i am perfect, in shape, and well dressed, making me both arrogant and an outlier of graduate school students) will never miss an opportunity to over-complicate an answer.

ever.

absolute truth the 2nd)  liberal arts graduate students are incapable of providing responses that are not autobiographical and/or anecdotal.

example:  ‘well, when i worked at ________, what made me smart and brilliant and worth listening to is that i focused on _______ism and _______ology.  i realize none of this has anything to do with the question ‘what were renaissance theaters like,’ but i just wanted to point out that i worked at ________ a second time.’

maddening.

* * *

a plea to graduate students in my classes,

please, oh please, just answer questions with answers.  i’m not trying to read your blog (but you can read mine right now), and i don’t wanna hear your podcast about how that time you and the cable guy talked about spanish and decided spanish is more logical, because blah blah blah anecdote.  

did the cable guy write a scholarly article i’m gonna have to look up and use in a paper i don’t really care about writing?  no?  then, please, let him continue installing time warner cable in peace, so they can rip you off and provide horrible service.

* * *

. . . i wrote this post in class and hungry.  this may explain the overall *itchy tone.

and, maybe, don’t tell my mom.

haikumpday

what you see of me –

my flaws and imperfections –

are called ‘character.’

* * * 

loosely twisted tie,

rag-doll on a bucking horse!

lets my bread grow stale.

* * * 

setting sun, goodnight!

I SAID GOODNIGHT, SETTING SUN!

sorry – she can’t hear.