My promise to me

Let's make something clear. I am not talking about dates, not in the last post nor any others. I will not talk about dates. I may express some thoughts and observations re: boys generally, but I will not talk about (current) romances. The reasons are two-fold. One, I want to minimize internet evidence of feelings or relationships that will most likely change, and two, it's just lame. Lamer even than the concept of blogging in the first place. My narcissism does not extend to blogging about my love life like it's entertaining on its own merits. That's what Slut Machine is (was) for. So maybe feelings are fair game, but narration is not, is what I'm saying. Also, less exploitation.

I'm really going to try.

Today, as I rode down the elevator in the United Federation of Teachers' building where the Obama office is, I encountered an interesting scene. On the third floor an Orthodox Jewish family got on, followed by a young woman wearing a keffiyeh (not the fashiony kind) and escorting a deaf kid. I thought at first that they were together and coming from some sort of peace and coexistence meeting. But I think it was just an odd confluence of costume-identified minorities in an unlikely place that resulted in something close to situational irony.

So, keep the scandalizing to a minimum, that's the idea. And prepare for sister time at Davidson this weekend. I think this photo illustrates both.