k is for


I must confess that the latest delay in the alphabiography has been due to an absolute and utter lack of something—anything—to go in this post. I finally scrounged something out of the dictionary yesterday, even though I wasn't thrilled with the topic.

But then, before it was set to post this afternoon, I had a brainstorm. So I postponed the post to give me time to rewrite it. You should be thrilled. :)

Anyway, I have collected odd things over the years. Normal people collect things like mugs and spoons and shot glasses. I collect books, which we're all aware of, though I'm not sure if we're aware of the extent to which I collect books.

For example, I have an international Harry Potter collection. The idea behind it is that I should have Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone from each country I've been to. Granted, I have to go back and somehow find and pick up the books from the China Tour. And it's no longer a representation of places I've been. Yes, this is one of those oddities that others contribute to because they find it to be odd.

Even so, my luggage was always heavy coming back from tour because I bought books. Often times these were coffee table books, even though I don't have a coffee table whereupon to display said books. But I buy them anyway. (I even bought one last month at Hoover Dam. It's filed away on a shelf where no one will ever see it, but I have one nonetheless.)

I also managed to collect weird little trinkets while on tour. The great advantage of vacation/unemployment is that I've been going through these boxes of trinkets. And I've been throwing the trinkets out. Finally. I mean, do I really need a Gettysburg cannon replica? Yea. Didn't think so. So what used to consume three boxes in the garage I have managed to whittle down to one. Right now, our justification for keeping the box is that there really isn't a place to display trinkets in our house; that doesn't really jive with our decorating style. And our house is small. But in our next house . . .

The other thing I'm trying to decide what to do with are my trophies. I don't have many, but I do have a half dozen or so. In looking at them, I wonder What's the point? Trophies only really seem to have value during the awards ceremony. It has to look like you're actually giving the winner something. Because, really, medals would make so much more sense.

Other keepsakes I've been routing through have been photos. I'm very much looking forward to when they're finally all scanned in. But they do bring about good memories. High school. Freshman year. Mission. Ballroom. So many fun times. It's a bit of a shame that I've inherited my mother's camera shyness; I might be in more pictures were I not so averse to being in them.

The final, and perhaps oddest, keepsake I've been ferreting through the papers I've written. Yes, I believe I have kept nearly every paper I have ever written. That includes papers from high school. Tangent: I took a creative writing class my senior year of high school. My poetry sucks. In a major way. There's a good chance I just may post it so you can see how terrible a writer I was. I can never hope to follow in the footsteps of Levithan, who is a god among us. Fortunately, I've even managed to come across a number of the electronic files. So I've been compiling everything into a single document. (I'm using this as an excuse to learn how to use InDesign.) I had initially thought to then publish it in a nice little book and put it on my shelf; it would save space and eliminate a box from the garage as well as be cool. But thus far I've only imported all my graduate school papers. The file's at 265 pages. Yes, I realize that undergraduate papers were shorter, but there are more classes. In the end, I've no idea what I'm going to do with this undertaking. Most likely I'm just going to enjoy the fact that I have weird keepsakes.

This post has been brought to you by Kelly Clarkson and Gordon Korman.

I know that many would question my adoration of Kelly. Okay. I don't really adore her, but I do like her. And I think she has some great music. She's pretty much the best thing to come out of American Idol.

On the other hand, I have nothing but praise and adoration for Korman. He so rocks. More than anything, I love to recommend Son of the Mob. Oh, and in so doing, I must read the first chapter aloud to people. You may not realize this, but that's a huge compliment, because I don't believe in being read aloud to or in reading aloud to others (just ask Dec). Perhaps my second favorite novel by Korman is Schooled. Regardless, you should read these two novels.



absent-minded assistant said...

Not kainotophobiaic nor kenophbic, the klendusic Killer-Bunny kicks his kathenotheism of kickshaws. Knackishly, Killer-Bunny kantikoys his knowledge of kalology, kamerading his unwanted keepsakes to kismet, all while keeping kinder-graphs and kazachoc-pics. :)

Care said...

wow - these alphabios are KOOL! and the comment makes it extra special.