Wednesday, July 20, 2011


Dear Oxford Comma,

You've been woefully neglected this year. I know it and I'm sorry. I could blame it on Netflix Instant Watch or giving my homework preferential treatment, but I'm not going to insult you like that. I mean where was I when the great Oxford comma scare broke out a few weeks ago and everyone thought that Oxford had announced to the internets that they were forsaking their namesake punctuation mark? (It turned out to be a false alarm. Only one of their style journals was dropping the comma, but still. It was hard times for us purists.) Where was I when I had that insightful/funny/witty thought that would have made the best blog post ever and gotten your millions of comments and thousand new readers? I'd like to say I was taken prisoner and told I couldn't use the internet, that Comcast had cut us off and left us stranded on a deserted island of no bars, that I was stuck in an elevator with Tom Hanks when the power went out, or even that I was slaving away at my novel, but I wasn't. I was probably watching "The Glee Project" on Hulu (which, if you haven't seen it is kind of hilarious. 12 high-drama, literally, MDT kids in a house together while they compete for a guest role on Glee. Awesome.).

But here's the worst part of it, Comma. Things are only going to get worse. That's right. I'm just going to come clean here and now. I started, gulp, a new blog. Listen, Comma, it's not you. It's me. The time finally came when I had to make some tough decisions. I only have one year of graduate school left and after that, I don't know what's coming. But if I'm going to make this writing thing work, in this day and age I need an internet presence and, while I like you just the way you are*, you weren't it.

I'm not saying we're breaking up. I'm not saying this the end of the road for you. I'm just saying, I need some space.

You'll always be the place I post random poems about my homeless admirers (of which there was another last Friday except this time he was only drunk or possibly mentally ill, so that's a step up, right?) or pictures of my crazy New England adventures. But my other blog, it's going to take a lot of time and attention right now. It's kind of like a puppy. It's not housebroken yet. It doesn't have a built in readership.

I hope we can still be friends.


Saturday, July 9, 2011

The Atlantic Is Lovely this time of Year

Despite her trepidation about sharks*, MRM Alex and I spent a great day at Hampton Beach. Yep, that's in New Hampshire. Even almost two years after moving here I'm amazed by all the New England state hopping. Maybe I'll get over that soon. Anyhow, I strongly recommend Hampton Beach, yes it's an hour's drive from Boston, but the water was lovely, the sand was relatively clean and soft, and there was no undertow to speak of--though the lifeguard didn't seem to like people swimming out very far at all and a little girl drowned there a little over a month ago.

Anyhow of the three proper beaches I can really remember going to (in the America's and for non-historical reasons)**, Hampton is my favorite so far.

Flat Stanley concurs. You should always concur.***

* MRM Alex's concerns were so far advanced, I had to make a wager with her for her to even consider swimming in the ocean. If she saw a shark with her own eyes, I'd kiss our home teacher. Luckily, no sharks were seen.

** The first proper beach I went to was one in North Carolina when I was four or five, but I don't really remember it and the second was Utah Beach in Normandy France, which wasn't really a pleasure cruise.

*** "I should have concurred." Now a Broadway Musical.