After the yawning black hole of space-time that was the Fall semester, I find myself almost at a loss to be sitting here at the Circulation Desk on a Saturday afternoon with absolutely nothing to do. What? No two and a half books to be read by Monday? No reading response papers? No nagging sense of guilt for wasting even fifteen seconds here or there on something that isn't related to my classwork?
I'm reminded of a story an old rock-climbing friend used to tell me about the joys of masochism: a man was hitting himself in the head repeatedly with a hammer - when asked by a passerby why he was doing it, the man replied, "Because it feels so good when I stop."
Yes, it does feel good.
So now I'm trying to get back into blogging shape, after allowing this place to get a little pudgy around the byline. I'm Rocky Balboa running through the streets of Philadelphia, chasing chickens in the alley, and climbing the steps of the Art Museum before breaking for a cheesesteak or a Special Italian hoagie from Rocco's.