New Year's is a harmless annual institution, of no particular use to anybody save as a scapegoat for promiscuous drunks, and friendly calls and humbug resolutions. (quote by Mark Twain).
I've read a couple interesting posts lately on what bizarre strings of words people searched to get to your blog.
Well, I have four different blog posts started, but haven't had time to finish any of them.
I don't have much time to blog, having just started a part-time job doing research and writing.
Now playing at Women's Autonomy and Sexual Sovereignty Movements. (Carnival of Feminists).
I've been neglecting my blog lately. (Note: is there anything more pathetic than whining about not blogging in your blog? Unless it's talking about blog posts you never finished. My new year's blogolution will be to never start another post like this).
Perhaps prompted by my recent reading of Caitlin Flanagan's critique of compost ("compost heaps in the backyard: moldering heaps of garbage, rich with worms and loamy rot...hideous caches of broken eggshells and wet coffee grounds squirreled away on kitchen counters" p. 143, To Hell with All That), I've been thinking about our compost.
(Poverty, Class, and Lebanon)...are featured in the 20th Carnival of Feminists at Super Babymama.
Get to Work: A Manifesto for Women of the World, by Linda R. Hirshman, starts out well enough: If Betty Friedan had lived just a little longer.
Don't Send Twisty a Picture of Your Breasts when you go to I Blame the Patriarchy and read I Got Yer Boobython Right Here...and she'll send a dollar to Breast Cancer Action.
I have lots of books.
The busyness of actual life has been interfering with my blogging. (OMG! Again with the inane lead sentence! Never, never, never again.)
Thursday, December 28, 2006
First Sentence Meme
Because I thought it was fascinating on some other people's blogs. Turns out it wasn't so interesting here: