On rad TAs

A VALEDICTION FORBIDDING MOURNING.
by John Donne

AS virtuous men pass mildly away, 
    And whisper to their souls to go, 
Whilst some of their sad friends do say,
    "Now his breath goes," and some say, "No."                     

So let us melt, and make no noise,                                       5
    No tear-floods, nor sigh-tempests move ;
'Twere profanation of our joys 
    To tell the laity our love. 

Moving of th' earth brings harms and fears ;
    Men reckon what it did, and meant ;                              10
But trepidation of the spheres, 
    Though greater far, is innocent. 

Dull sublunary lovers' love 
    —Whose soul is sense—cannot admit 
Of absence, 'cause it doth remove                                     15
    The thing which elemented it. 

But we by a love so much refined,
    That ourselves know not what it is, 
Inter-assurèd of the mind, 
    Care less, eyes, lips and hands to miss.                           20

Our two souls therefore, which are one, 
    Though I must go, endure not yet 
A breach, but an expansion, 
    Like gold to aery thinness beat. 

If they be two, they are two so                                          25
    As stiff twin compasses are two ; 
Thy soul, the fix'd foot, makes no show 
    To move, but doth, if th' other do. 

And though it in the centre sit, 
    Yet, when the other far doth roam,                                30
It leans, and hearkens after it, 
    And grows erect, as that comes home. 

Such wilt thou be to me, who must,
    Like th' other foot, obliquely run ;
Thy firmness makes my circle just,                                    35
    And makes me end where I begun.  

On shades and shoes

On my dream job

I want to work for dictionary.com like it's nobody's business (except for dictionary.com's).

This is why.
The hot word makes my day. Everyday. 

On being a small, redheaded, English-speaking French girl

Also, For the last few weeks I've been itching to visit France. I finally figured out why:

On Augusto Monterrosa & Jack Kerouac

Yesterday I decided to start a blog.
I mostly thrive on other people's ideas/lectures/conversations/books/lyrics/poems, and I lack original topics to rant about myself. So, I'll probably just post other people's interesting stuff. 
"Real smarts begin when you quit quoting other people"
— Chuck Palahniuk (Pygmy)
...maybe one day. 
A name. Coming up with one was even more difficult than facing the reality that I don't actually have any personal ideas/quirks/experiences to discuss. 
I almost went with Are you there Blog? It's me, Ty, but instead decided that this was a problem for Facebook to solve. I went to my page (as I frequently do...I suffer from a touch of social networking narcissism) and looked at my favorite quotes. These were my sources of inspiration:
They danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones that never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn...
Jack Kerouac (On the Road)
Cuando despertó, el dinosaurio todavía estaba allí.
-Augusto Monterrosa
Come roll in all the riches all around you
And for once, never wonder what they're worth
-Pocahontas 
Yo piscolio. Tú piscolias. Él piscolia. Nosotros piscoliamos. Vosotros piscoliáis. ¡TODOS PISCOLIAN!
-Lukas Lonza
The last two were out. Ever since I found out that Disney lies I have been a bit upset with myself for even allowing the Pocahontas lyric to reside on my page. I still think it's a good message, but not bloggable. I don't drink enough to name my blog PISCOLIANDO. That would be misleading. Probably more interesting though. 
So I was left with the first two quotes. They were both too long (even though Monterrosa's is actually the shortest short story in the world!), but I decided that I could work with it. 
I chose the words in each quote that spoke to me the most. Dingledodies. Shambled. Yawn. Burn. Dinosaurio. 
Well, I don't want the blog to be yawn-worthy. Out. 
Burn. Ouch. Out. 
Shambled. I liked it... out.
Dingledodies. YES. What is a dingledodie? I have no idea. Dictionary.com=fail. Perhaps I will explore what it means to be a dingledodie in this blog. I probably will. Unintentionally. 
Dinosaurio. Now, I am not a big fan of dinosaurs, but I really like Monterrosa's story. When he woke up, the dinosaur was still there. What is the dinosaur? An event? A dictator? A clogged toilet? Maybe he is the dinosaur. Or, more likely, he was a small furry animal living in a hole which has been covered for several days by a large, dead, dinosaur. Maybe he lives in my apartment which is decorated with dinosaurs. Maybe he's me! I live in my apartment. Maybe he's a she. I guess Monterrosa doesn't actually say he. Oh my lanta, Augusto Monterrosa wrote a short story about me!
Dinosaurios and dingledodies. Now I have topics!  Very open ended topics that I know absolutely nothing about. 
Perfect.