Confessions of a young basket weaver

I'm so tired . . .

. . . of thinking about Hawthorne and Thoreau. 

It is very frustrating, this conflict within my personality. I like to cross things off lists and accomplish concrete things. But my mind is good at analyzing and theorizing and, well, playing with thoughts. If the professor doesn't require outside critical sources and you're already familiar with the text, then writing a paper requires: 

A lot of staring into space. 

Sometimes this is absorbing and fun. And sometimes . . . sometimes you spend two hours checking Facebook every two minutes. 

***

In other news:

- RUF Winter Conference this weekend. Please snow.  

- Ode to Decongestants: I do not sound like a chain smoker anymore and I can sleep at night. 

- Brother is coming to Winter Conference, too. 

- Reaching for the Invisible God by Philip Yancey. I love.

- The Survival of the Bark Canoe by John McPhee. I do not love. 

- One hour and ten minutes +  one helpful instructor + one college girl lacking artisanal skills = one bamboo cane strip. Out of the 100 needed to weave basket. 

[I hope no one finds my bamboo. I hid it by my sorority house. And I really am not eager to journey the way of the Possum Carcass to harvest some more bamboo. Although, as Dr. Brown pointed out, it did sport a great example of omnivorous canines.]