The Vietnamese Minister of Education totally stood me up today. And me so well-dressed. I get all sorts of nice comments when I dress like a grown-up. Too bad dressing like a grown-up is such a hassle. Very uncomfortable to drive in heels and in a long jacket, panty hose are a disaster. Keeping a shirt looking ironed is impossible. Etc.

This week I learned more than I ever really wanted to know about APA style. The fascinating thing is how many bizarro forms of reference there can be, especially in the age of, ahem, internet communication. So many sources to cite in so many ways! and so little time....! Yet so much time wasted on this....

Belly dancing class is one of the few contexts in which I have real trouble suppressing my inner asshole. It is EMBARRASSING how unfit these women are. EMBARRASSING.

Today I recalled one of the many, multitudinous, various and variegated reasons I adore Dave. I was once TA-ing for his course and expressed pleasure that one of the students had, in a blind-graded exam, achieved the highest grade, because at the time he was my favourite student (chair of the college democrats, in general adorable, etc.). Dave then asked, "Oh, are You dating him?" as if it were the most natural and not-at-all-imprudent thing to do. This I mention because it contrasts with today's NYT The Ethicist column, in which Randy Cohen writes "To respect professional boundaries benefits professor as well as student, making it easier for the former to teach and the latter to learn." Of course, I'm just mentioning this in passing, not as if it's particularly relevant or anything.

I'm going to bake a carrot cake today. I just went shopping and got precisely the ingredients and nothing else. I do so hate shopping. Enough to not buy the stuff I might need but to limit my purchases to those required for the specific recipe at hand. Anyway, the main thing I wanted to mention is that my oven is a gas oven, which has a heat-control knob whose sole designations are "1" and "1/4".

I have been thinking recently about creating a main-events time-line of my life. Tomorrow J turns 24; there are a few important things that happened when I was 24. That was a bad year. A bad year. I'd have trouble thinking of events from earlier childhood. Interviewing would have to be planned with experts in the field....

I feel old. How can I describe this state without saying "old"--because that's not altogether accurate. How about, I feel older. I am swooning over a 20-yr-old, I have to sleep at least 6 hours to be conscious... well, OK, I can't think of anything else. Those are the basic symptoms. The first one isn't really a symptom of my being older (god knows it has happened before) but when I phrase it "I am crushing on a man who is 14 years younger than I am" then it sort of sounds worse, don't You think?