Does absence make the heart grow fonder? I don't answer that question in this post. This title is really long.

It has been nearly a fortnight since I have last written anything (I considered adding the phrase, "of meaning" to that last sentence, but thought better of it) on this little soapbox. I think it is fair to assume that I have been missed.

Not too long ago, I was walking from my dormitory to the cafeteria. It was a sunny day, with few clouds in the sky, and I was walking with my eyes open (which is usually the case when I begin to get into trouble). All of a sudden, a drop liquid struck me square on the left eyeball. Recall, if you will, my description of the day earlier in this paragraph: sunny, few clouds. So, when the globule of heavenly drink impacted my iris, it is not surprising that I thought I was being attacked. Both eyes shut rapidly, in order to impede other stillicides from entering my skull, and I began throwing looping right hooks to defend myself in my blind state. It turned out that the drip was just a stray raindrop. However, in that time of trouble, it was very pleasant to see my Emergency Action Plan so effectively come alive.

Have you ever asked anyone the question, "How are you?" only to receive the answer, "Well, it's Friday." If so, there are a couple possible problems with this response. First off, check the date. Is it actually Friday? If not, it is safe to say that the person with whom you are conversing does not have a proper grip on reality. Backing away slowly, while possibly not the best course of action, can't hurt in this situation. However, if the day is, in fact, Friday, this second problem needs to be handled: is the person deaf? Along with that, is this person deaf AND a very poor lip-reader? Because, as any hearing person will tell you, "How are you?" sounds nothing like, "Pray tell, which day of the week are we up against?" And any person who can see will tell you the lip movements during the last two sentences are quite different. This was a long-winded attempt to bring an end to people telling me what day it is when I ask them how they are faring.

I went to Leatherby's this weekend (Hey, Leatherby's, free advertising. How else would you have reached my eight readers [out of which an estimated 88% already know of your existence]?). If you are not feeling what we humans call "jealousy," it is either because you, also, were at Leatherby's this weekend or because you just don't understand, and there is nothing I can do to make you understand. For this I am sorry.

As I was driving back to Napa Valley on the 12 this evening, I was afforded a delightful moment: it was about 8:30, the sun was low in the sky and casting orange-red light on the clouds and the windmills were basically silhouettes against this magic backdrop. What's more is that, as I was pondering this, Simon and Garfunkel's "Sound of Silence" came up in the shuffle. The entire atmosphere gave me shivers, an experience which I thought could not be bested. However, immediately following in the playlist was "Thriller." If you have never driven the 12 in May at 8:35 with "Thriller" on the stereo, you are missing out.

Also, and this may be strange, every time I go on a trip the song "She's Gone" by Hall and Oates comes on my iPod. I like the song, but is there anything that makes you feel more alone than Darry Hall and John Oates singing a breakup song from the 70s while you maneuver a hatchback solo through wine country?

"A hat raised half-heartedly is a courtesy without charm."

-Evidently an old proverb. Who first said it? I don't know. Why don't you do some research? Do you think I enjoy writing this last part? I wish I had never started writing quotes at the end. It's too much pressure. That's probably why I make up half of the quotes; I find it difficult enough to find someone to whom I can falsely attribute the words.