On trying to make a screencast.

Dear my OS,

It's no good when the tools don't work.

When every time I open my online screencasting platform, it tells me I got no Java. And when I google how come I got no Java? I find out that you, my OS, you took the Java preferences clean outta there upon the last update.

danger, Will Robinson!

What. The. Hell.

There is a system, my OS provider, a system that I have cobbled together out of Prezi and content and Screenr and usually YouTube. And the Screenr, she needs the Java. And you are telling me I got no Java? And you didn't even tell me so in the first place?

What. The. Hell.

In your defense, there is a bunch of yellling about Java and how it is dangerous, so maybe you're right. Maybe I shouldn't have it. But the screencast! It languishes! It shall perhaps remain uncast!

c'est le java.

Thus flummoxed by tomfoolery, shenanigans, and dilemmas, I had to respond to some student writing by hand. By hand, my OS provider! This is what it's come to.

All that Java-hunting has made my wrist sore.

Harrumph,

htms

Letter to my feet.

Dear feet,

As you know, there is a long week ahead of us, with many nights out and very little respite from our work. So I promise you: I will take you, my feet, neither hither nor yon, neither here nor there, neither to infinity nor to beyond, in uncomfortable shoes.

That offer is, it probably goes without saying, good only for this week. But I will not renege, not this week. My feet: you can count on me.

You have my word,

htms.


{couplet}--note: link updated to one that (I hope) works.

Brief letters.

Dear quiet night at home,

I know that you occured in part because the historian has a cold and needs his rest, and also because there is an irresistible trifle of a novel that basically demanded to be finished, and also because there was leftover shrimp Vindaloo as well as leftover tortilla soup. And also because I have a powerful ability to procrastinate necessary tasks, such as grading. Even so, quiet night at home, how delightful, how restorative you have been. You have been the very fulfillment of a Tuesday, distilled to its quintessence. I cherish you.

Sincerely,

htms

*

Dear trifle of a novel,

How I adore you. You have, by virtue of your occasionally tart wit but also your surprisingly open-hearted address to the need of the reader to believe, at least sometimes, in happiness, entirely satisfied me. I know you are not brilliant, but you are good, for a trifle. In fact, dear trifle of a novel, you have caused me to brighten the aura surrounding the word "trifle." That's how entirely satisfactory you were.

gratefully,

htms

*

Dear grading,

Ugh, are you still there?

I am sorry, but we will never be friends.

I said good day,

htms

*

Dear tomorrow,

You are when I will grade.

I promise,

htms.

Short letters.

Dear hard chairs,

Today, you were ubiquitous during the meeting after meeting after meeting I attended. You did not make my life any easier.

Sincerely,

htms

*

Dear cafeteria lunch,

I basically swore you off at the end of last year. 2012 was going to be the healthy, bring it from home food year. Yet there you were, with your BLT hack, your barbecue potato chips and Dr. Pepper. I resent you for reminding me how very weak I am.

I will not be eating you again anytime soon,

htms

*

Dear all-day tall boots,

You are too cute for words, and while I was wearing you, you made me feel a little bit like a goddess. However, you wore out your welcome by 3 p.m., it must be said. Perhaps you are more like 5 and a half hour tall boots.

I will make a note of it,

htms

*

Dear motivational speaker,

I wanted to do grievous harm to your PowerPoint slides and especially to how you said "bing!" when you wanted the next slide to come up. Seriously?

Never darken my door again,

htms

Fruits

of my labors:

Letter to Mary. from lisab on Vimeo.

[viewing note: bigger is better for this video. Enlarge.]