Land of Lakes and Volcanoes

In NY we visited the MoMA and I spent as much time watching the people as I spent looking at the art. I've decided a trip to the art museum might be the perfect screening date if you're both into that sort of thing. An outing to an art museum allows you to judge your partner on many levels, some less obvious than others. It's clear that you'll get to find out what kind of art your partner likes, essential if you imagine decorating a home together. No one wants to wait until after the honeymoon to discover that your husband would rather have a Thomas Kinkade over the sofa than a Rothko. You also get to find out if this potential mate of yours is capable of discussing art without sounding like an idiot or a prat. What does he think of this technique that the artist used? How does she feel about the progression of the Bauhaus movement? Can he somehow justify his terrible obsession with Thomas Kinkade? And why does she like photography so much? Is the connection per

I'm trying to re-enter the stratosphere of reality without crashing and burning. So far, I'd say I'm barely squeaking through. Work is work, and I'm drowning in stuff already, but at least enjoying the week before the students descend. I finally finished Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, and I'm trying to write up a review/reaction, but as usual, I have no idea what the hell Murakami is trying to say to me. I started Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close in NY, and I feel like this book is violating me. I don't want to keep reading it, but I can't stop. It is soooooo sad, and I've cried about 4 times already. Additionally, it makes my stomach knot up with anxiety on a pretty continual basis while it also makes me miss my mom to a ridiculous degree. And yet, cannot put it down. I was further depressed by it today when I read that JSF was 28 when it came out. I'm 28, and I'm pretty sure I haven't created anything that makes