My Dear Aquaintances--To My Readers

I admit it: I pilfered that heading from a Regina Spektor song.

Intrepid heroine Meagan finds herself trapped at a plain yet spacious desk deep in the bowels of the church office. Unable to leave, she is metaphorically chained to her station by the accusing glare of the Avaya telephone. The dire situation would perhaps be a little more bearable had she not brought upon herself; however, having unwittingly volunteered for the post, the only comfort she has in the quiet, stretching hours before her is her mind's own cold reproof: "You asked for a job on Saturdays."

Dear reader, I'm bored. Bad for me, for obvious reasons; bad for my colleagues, as the more bored I get the greater my insanity level increases, the more doses of it they're exposed to; but good for you, because it compels me to write yet another post.

Of course one may call me presumptuous to imply that this fact is actually a delight to you. I find myself ignoring this judgmental and ever-mysterious "one."

To start, many of you have graced me with comments calling for some sort of response, which I have neglected to respond to. I've decided to do it here, because I want to and I need a vague subject for my post in order to create a sufficient heading.

First, to all you dear readers I'm really quite surprised and extremely pleased that you are what I call you: readers. To borrow the beaten-to-death cliche: "You like me! You really really like me!" I mean really, seven comments on the first post. You warm the cockles of my heart; and more importantly, the cockles of Archives' heart (because I think this blog is too pretty to not be a sentient, personified being), who would otherwise be in danger of a very low self-esteem for how flippantly I treat him.

Now as to those questions...

Master Bradford-Lowell: my deepest thanks for the musical suggestion. Yes, the cheese fry pizza was both as intriguing and delicious as it sounded. Fitzwilliam is my favorite too, which is why he got the best name, but don't tell the other fish. I do believe the internationally-recognized official language of love is Mongolian.

Mrs. Smith: 6:45 is early, just not the earliest; and that in no way detracts from it's unGodliness. Extremely gratified you like my blog. Do you know an Eric Fournier? He is my history professor and I thought it would be interesting if you did. "Must needs" is a nonsensical phrase that I use in place of "I need to" because I'm ridiculous and think it's sounds old-timey British. Thank you for the warning about the fruit bar, I may just steer clear of the sushi all together. And finally more showers of thanks for making Archives a favorite.

Well readers, you can finally release the twisted knot of anguish you have been carrying in your hearts for me; I got my soup yesterday. And a panini, which could not have made the meal more a favorite. Liz, Jean and I embarked on a great excursion to Panera after all our classes were done. Fun-filled, delicious times.

The stop-animation version of Peter and the Wolf is mildly terrifying. And so very, very Russian. But somehow it awoke in my a desire to write my own version.

The parents have taken the small ones and frolicked off together for an adventure down at the shore, leaving those of us who are past the age of fourteen and therefore no longer matter to fend for themselves in the cold, harsh world. I hope they bring me back a dinosaur from The Dough Roller...

I think Alphonse may be slow, the poor fishy. He's always bumping up against the edges of his little pond.

Everyone around me seems to be developing varied forms of insomnia. I hope it's not catching.

I can't express how excited I am for fall to come. The days keep getting cooler and soon (oh soon!) the leaves will change.

Fall reading suggestions:

1. Now We are Six by A. A. Milne
2. Something Wicked This Way Comes by Ray Bradbury (for best results, read in October)
3. Spindle's End by Robin McKinley