It’s been a quietly productive day. In the emptiness of the Writing Room just after opening, I began my reading for history and for fiction writing. Back on my bed, I finished my readings and dwelled for some time about how pale my own work seems in comparison to Mr. McOmber’s. Luckily, we get to Skype with him, too. Maybe he’ll marry me.
This afternoon I watched “The Hours,” which I’ve always been scared of, and have never known why. Now I know why, and it makes me want to watch the whole thing over again. It also makes me want to read “Mrs. Dalloway,” which, truthfully, I should have read by now. I have a feeling this summer will be Virginia Woolf and Sylvia Plath. And probably Walt Whitman, because he’s been a long time coming.
No Super Bowl on my part; I just wasn’t in the mood. In fact, I don’t believe I even know who won.
I do know that last night, during Roommate Bonding Time, we watched “Bridesmaids” (Mom, I laughed my head off for the entire movie) and made Bears on a Beach. Our initial plan to make dirt cups went awry, as only vanilla oreos and gummi bears were available, so we reinvented the dessert entirely. (The reason the ‘water’ is brown, by the way, is because of pollution. It’s a sad world we live in.) (Also, I hope the fact that it’s a nude beach doesn’t offend anyone.)