Information.

Today, at dinner with the historian's daughter and her family--to celebrate her birthday, so happy birthday, Anna!--we were discussing a pesky wasp problem in their yard, which brought this infographic to mind:

from www.garethaveyard.com

This also reminded me that somewhere or another I read that some smart guy--some guy I probably read about in the New York Times today, but honestly, I can't be bothered to double-check--right, some smart guy has an infographic feed. Or something. He constantly consumes infographics, which is a good idea, because infographics are kind of awesome. For instance, here's some useful information about the cost of hiring a zombie:

I Hired a Zombie, or The True Cost of a Bad Hire (via Mashable)

And here's one, The History of the Internet in a Nutshell (go on, check it out--it's pretty!):

via Mashable (click here to see it full screen)

I think we'd all like to know about ten of the most expensive meals ever, wouldn't we? Hello, $145.00 hot dog!

...and that is by no means the most expensive thing on the menu.

Well, I wish I were an infographic maker. Perhaps I will become a connoisseur of them. But in the meantime, here is some other information you might like to have about stuff I want to do before I go back to school (too bad I can't/am too lazy to put it all in the form of a well-designed graphic):

• see all the movies
• read a pile more books
• write drafts of ten more poems--by "drafts," I really mean drafts, not finished poems. You know, move my freewriting to the next level.
• make two video essays
• ride my bike in the morning fifty more days (not technically possible, but there's a spirit of the thing involved here)
• notice everything
• see some live music outside
• eat some more good food
• have dinner with some friends
• relax some more, and then
• relax even more than that.

Doable? YES.

Useful facts.

aka, by-products of my revision process:

Did you all know about this "parasitic -n-" phenomenon? Me neither.

Carry on.

Huh, anxious.

This week, I spent several hours at school for this and that, and I am contemplating the fact that I will have to go to work in August. The horror.

I am about to enter the seven stages of grief, and right now, I am in

1. denial. Please do not, if you happen to be talking to me, try to describe the amount of time I have between now and when school starts again in units of days, weeks, or even months. All those units have the end result of making the time I have left to me appear very small. I am not interested in information conveyed in these units. If you would like to talk to me about this subject--and really, it might be dangerous for you, so I would recommend, for your own health and well-being, just don't--but if you have to, if you must, perhaps you could convey it in the form of bird whistles. Or, like, a dance.

After denial comes 2. guilt. Why have I not accomplished more? What about the playing the piano I was going to do every day? the meditating? the total transformation of my inner life and also the way I was going to look thinner? and sexier? when I came back. I feel a little guilty about that.

Next, I believe, will come bargaining (3.), and I have a lot of bargains I would like to strike with the Powers that Rule the Universe, if they would let me keep writing and I would not have to go back to work. I would keep my house clean! I would bake bread! I would volunteer my time for worthy causes! And: cheerful--I would be so cheerful!