[NB: This has been lingering in my drafts for a while now; enjoy with caution.] So, I wanted to go to the grocery store the other day. And it turns into this big process, right? Back in Austin, my hometown, we have a ban on plastic bags at grocery stores —well, at any stores, really,
10am is the absolute worst possible time of day for a weekday. 10am. 10am is a time of day that should go unnoticed. 10am is celophane time. 10am is white noise. 10am is traffic steady flowing. 10am is sunshine in San Diego. 10am is when there isn’t really any when then. Except when it’s not.
“You’re a linguist? How many languages do you know?” It’s a pet-peeve of most linguists I know. There are support groups and memes and blog posts devoted to it (even, mind you, one of mine. *cough*). Linguists bluster in, “WE’RE LINGUISTS, DAMNIT! NOT POLYGLOTS! WE DON’T KNOW ANY LANGUAGES!” [insert Chomsky slam here] ANYWAY…
Let’s ignore for a moment the track record of the two major presidential candidates (because, really, there are pros and cons to both. If you want to argue that outlawing abortion is morally more or less justifiable than unlimited detainment without due process, well… Let’s just put that aside for now.) Let’s also ignore the
I got a job. Or, more specifically, I got a paid position in the exact field that I’ve been training for these last 14 years. I got a career. I have a permanent room in the Ivory Tower now. It feels good. Cool. Refreshing. Intentional. Adult. That’s how it’s supposed to feel, anyway. Instead, it