And with my wig thus unpowdered...

I am having a nice, quiet evening with some tea and my Marx reader. We are having a conversation, it and I, because everything is a conversation and we are trying to come up with some questions for seminar on Monday because said questions must be emailed preferably Friday, maybe Saturday but not Sunday subjectline: question to the prof and there's the 50% of your 60% for participation.

I stand up. "Green tea tonight," I say, filling the kettle, "because the milk's starting to smell funny and besides, haven't we had enough orange pekoe for the time being?"

"When you negate a powdered wig, you are left with an unpowdered wig," the reader replies.

"Now honestly, where do you get off dropping an a sentence like that in the middle of a paragraph? You're dense enough as it is!"

"Don't blame me. I'm an unfinished manuscript."

I've never been particularly good at asking questions. It's a skill you're supposed to learn when you're young, but I'm very used to understanding things right away. I was always the person you asked for help if the teacher couldn't be bothered. I always knew the answer or was able to bullshit my way into looking like I did.

This isn't to say that I don't have things I want to know, just that they never end up as fully formed questions. I like answers better. And as far as questioning things goes, I'm about as skeptical of everything as they come.

I have a good friend who's hellbent on having me ask him questions about himself. I always say that he should just tell me what he wants to say seeing as he wants me to know things so badly, but he never bothers. In all honesty I want to know everything, absolutely everything, but that isn't a directed question, is it?

I'm writing a reference for someone who is applying for a scholarship. I guess technically I'm eligible for it as well, but I'm not applying because I'm a retard and I wouldn't get it anyways. That doesn't mean I can't help someone else out though. I had all sorts of wonderful things to say about her until I replied to the email saying I would do it. Since then the words have evaporated but I have to come up with something decent otherwise I've just branded myself an asshole.

It's getting cold at night again. I go out to water my plants in the morning and they're covered in dew. It's been a crappy summer gardeningwise so the tomatoes on my balcony are still green. For some reason today I switched to using two fingers instead of one to work the microwave. Today it feels more natural to do it that way.