Why is it that whenever there is a winter storm warning for bad weather to hit during the night I always start praying? I know that's not what praying is for. But there the words are anyway, slipping out of the mouth inside my head: "Please, God, let there be no school tomorrow." Wishing and praying are two entirely different things, with entirely different intents and purposes. So I guess what I do is wish, and casually mention my wish to my good pal Jesus, without hope or agenda. Right.

And I've put the sheets made of beech tree fiber back on my bed so it is once again (un)officially the most comfortable place in the country if not the world. I'd forgotten how much I loved those sheets - jersey be damned! is what I say from now on.

And (and and and...) this is my statement about why I've been writing lame, unfunny posts lately: First of all, I blame my new dark apartment with the prison-bar-looking screens in which the light never gets past "dim dusky twilight" - even on snowybright January afternoons. I am a plant and I crave light and this is not not not going to work. Second, I keep sitting down to start a post, but there's something wrong every time - they don't come out right, or I'm not getting at what I'm really trying to say. Lately I guess I feel like I haven't been sounding like myself, or I haven't been sounding like I used to at least. And I liked how I used to sound, back in the xanga days. So I need to wait for that voice to come back. It was the voice of me in college though, so perhaps its absence is a symptom of this next phase and I just need to get used to being boring. Or you all need to move to Grand Rapids so things can start being funny again. But now I'm rambling. At least some characteristics of my blogging voice haven't changed.

I really like Frank O'Hara. If there is a snow day tomorrow I'm going to read him all day long.

You do not always seem to be able to decide
that it is all right, that you are doing what you're doing
and yet there is always that complicity in your smile
that it is we, not you, who are doing it
which is one of the things that makes me love you