The song has been sung

Well, I've done it - I've officially read my second novel for (gasp!) fun.  Who knew this was still possible?  Graduate school has apparently not entirely broken my spirit or love of language.  The best part is that I read something completely pop fiction - Jennifer Weiner - and I have no shame about it.  Ha.  I read a mediocre novel with a few great jokes and implausibly strong female characters and I actually enjoyed it.  There were no deadlines, no pressure to say something clever or poignant about the story or the theme or the author's use of meta-narrative, and - thank God - not once did Michel Foucault and what he might have said that I could apply to this novel pop to mind.  In fact, for the past couple of weeks, I haven't even really thought about school or my dissertation or anything of any significance whatsoever.  

I have watched Dr. Phil every day this week and have hollered at the television the same way others would holler at a football game (a fact that vexes me not a little), and I now know that if I sit through 9 News at Noon, Extra will come on after, and then not one, but TWO episodes of Judge Judy will follow.  I have worn pajama pants and an Oxford University tee shirt for an overwhelming percentage of the last five days, given that I sleep in this ensemble and wear it as well anytime I am at home for more than a few minutes, which is all the time of late.  I have completed exactly seven 1000-piece jigsaw puzzles in the last month, have scarcely walked into my office, and have delighted in seeing all my email boxes empty on a daily basis, save some straggling and entertaining spam promising me that if I had a penis, it could be incredibly large, virtually unstoppable, and based on these products advertised, capable of taking over the better part of the Denver Metro area with its massive girth and sheer rigidity.  My makeup bag has dust on it, my legs are unshaven, my house is untidy - though not dirty - and finally, the best part of all is that I am sleeping through each and every night with no pressure whatsoever to wake to an alarm clock.  I am sleeping well, because I have these long, connected narrative dreams which tells me that I'm engaged in deep sleep for a long period of time.  This morning my dream had something to do with a large percentage of the cast from the movie Snatch, but only the ugly and odd Brits - not Brad Pitt.  Don't ask me why - I've seen the film exactly once and thought it only average.  

I did watch the third Pirates movie tonight, which I got on DVD for Christmas.  While I admit I liked it in large part, I am still a complete sucker for the first film and I kind of wish they had left the story alone.  Clearly the second and third movies were meant to go together, but they are far inferior in terms of their cleverness - I mean, the Davy Jones/kraken/Calypso thing is so contrived and each one of those legends/myths has nothing at all to do with the other - and in this way, I suppose I never stop being the over-educated English nerd who is hyper-critical of all things improperly researched.  Damn, and I was so close to a scholarly-language-free entry here.  I'll try to be more slackerly next time.