(ostensibly) finished

there is still the editing, the bibliography, and the footnotes. there is still a sofa and an altar, a decade worth of journals. some clothes and a bottle of tamari. there are three finals but only two of them are taking (the other is for giving). there is a bachelor party and a wedding but neither of them are mine, and somewhere in New Jersey the mother of a mentor is dying.

there are letters of recommendation and an application for a fellowship. return flights are unbooked and the window is open; Al Green is singing. my sister is writing, Saylor called to tell me Mardou has absconded the city. there are two books waiting to be returned to the library, and yesterday a student asked (in a whisper): do you smoke weed?

but all this is beside the point.

the point is that a girl once told me - in all seriousness - that she didn't know if she wanted to be an artist or a scientist, and therefore she was going to be a firefighter. apparently the intervening two years have provided her with some clarity because, when i spoke to her yesterday, she told me that she was going to start studying polar animals. my first thought?

but you live in South Florida...