I don't know when to stop.

Another chapter. For the first, go here.

Vlad was boat shopping. It was traditional for a 16 year old boy to receive a boat from his parents as a gift. It symbolized his independence less than it did his parents' eager desire to get him out of their house. (It was also a cunning distraction from another Viking custom that involved a free can of gasoline and lighter with every AARP membership.) Viking boats came in one shape (boat-shaped) and in one color (brown). The only choice that young Vlad had was the figurehead.

Vlad had been to nearly every used boat lot up and down the coast, but was having a bugger of a time finding something that he felt suited him. He'd decided to stop at the lot of Mothmar the Sweet-Smelling before resigning himself to paddleboats for another year. Mothmar himself came out to meet Vlad at the dock. Vlad noticed his mismatched furry vest and furry barbarian skirt (rabbit on the top and bear on the bottom), and winced at the fluttering pieces of plasticized confetti that hung winsomely on Mothmar's hat.

"What can I do you for, young Barbarian?" Mothmar oozed, sticking his clammy palm into Vlad's.

"I am looking for a boat.." before Vlad could continue with his list of requirements, he was being steered toward the section that held boats specifically for young males. Namely, the section of boats that had figureheads shaped like young topless women. Some of these boats were leaning slightly forward in the water, due to the size of the 'adornments' on the figurehead.

Vlad shook his head in disgust. All that the figureheads brought to mind were the numerous "Arrghs" that he'd received in Mandatory Naughty Activities. (In fact, had he not done so well in "Gathering a Massive Hoard" and "Visual Intimidation Techniques", his record would have meritted a second go round.) Vlad wanted something different. Something that spoke to his inner soul. Something that was distinctive. Something that matched his eyes and would go well with whatever boots he was wearing.

He wandered away from Mothmar who was extoling the virtues of a rather squinty looking model and moved toward the exit. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw it. The prow of the ship was long and slender, and was not adorned with anything that could be considered human. In his eyes, the sheer wildness of the symbolism was ideal.

Vlad walked straight to his ship, slapped the hull and pronounced her name. "Thou shalt be the GRAY GOOSE."

Mothmar coughed slightly. "Inventive."

Things that have made me happy this morning:

All of the innuendos that I thought of while the light poles were being raised/installed
Fiona Apple's lyrics
An expense check
Labor Day = three day weekend
My new clipboard - aluminum, with a compartment for my Important Papers (plus, bought with job's money, so I get to keep it)
Answering a vendor question by myself
Remembering that I have MASH and Gilmore Girls on dvd at the apartment
Lunchtime is coming very quickly
Twitter

Pure, Beloved One

When I was a little kid, I used to collect names. My favorite part of MASH (the hilarious game in which you embarrass yourself no matter what because there is no way that you actually like that guy that MASH says that you're going to marry while secretly being thrilled at the idea of having Johnny Whatsisface father your six children) was picking out the names for my hypothetical offspring. I named teddy bears and dolls and was aghast at the number of Catherines in Wuthering Heights. Even now, I name my electronics (Fluffy, Azrael, Arcturus, Cai, Kael, Agrippa, and Heremon).

Along with this, I thought about the names I wished that I would have had. When I was eight, I would have given anything to be named Lisa (yes, after the Simpsons). At thirteen, it was Arianna. By the time I went to college, I had grown to enjoy my name. In fact, I really love my name now. And of course, I'm realizing this because I'm not going to have my name much longer.

My last name, which I have reviled as having too many vowels and thus being unspellable will be changing in a matter of months. It's a symbolic transformation, but one that has many ramifications. If I meet any friends from grade school, they won't immediately recognize my name. Anything else I publish won't be grouped with my previous papers. I'll have to stand in a different line when registering for things. I'll need a new signature, new checks, and a new driver's license. I'll be leaving behind the tangible connection to my parents and my siblings, and in effect, taking on a new identity.

Jane Eyre mentions something similar before her wedding to Rochester (badly quoted because I don't have my book with me) "The tags were waiting to be fixed to the luggage. Jane Rochester was a person foreign to me. She would not exist until tomorrow afternoon."

I know that I won't magically turn into a new person. I'll still love microwave popcorn, get my groove on to early twenty-first century pop, and save games of MASH from sixth grade. And since I hate hyphenated names, I'll gladly become a Jones when the time comes. Until then, I'm going to enjoy my last few months with my current name.

Goldigger sounds better as a polka

I have a problem with Kayne West. My issue isn't that he's a misinformed idiot (see: 'Bush hates black people'), but instead that Kayne West simultaneously makes and ruins good music.

There are two Kayne West songs on my iPod - 'Stronger' and 'Homecoming'. Both of these songs are catchy and have spent a great deal of time on repeat. Incidentally, the majority of these songs are not sung by Kayne West. 'Stronger' is effectively a remix of Daft Punks 'Harder, Better, Faster' and 'Homecoming' features Chris Martin of Coldplay.

I sincerely enjoy the 'featuring' portions of these songs, but I really despise Kayne's attempts at musicality. In fact, if there weren't any guest artists on these songs, I would hate them. However, I like the other performers so much that they redeem an otherwise horrible piece of music.

So...I'm conflicted. Do I thank Kayne West for bringing to life a song that I would love or do I curse him for ruining it?

In other news, Hebrew and Greek lessons are coming along well. I am up to seven Greek verbs (ballo, luo, acuso, pistuo, leggo, bleepo, grapho) and the entirety of the Hebrew alphabet.

Like that one video with the cartoon rabbits

Everybody else's Facebook status is so much cooler than mine.

My statuses (stati?) have included such gems as "Amy loves B.J.", "Amy is working", "Amy hates air conditioning", and "Amy has no internet at work." The coolest thing that I've come up with recently is plagarized from Dr. Horrible. (Amy meant Ghandi...) Just today, people on Facebook are getting Facebook divorced, petting wild fauns, and Alaskan.

How do you compete with Alaska?

A coyote ate your baby

Things that I have done in the mornings this week:

Assure myself that I did indeed just see a coyote cross the road.
Fail miserably at coyote/chicken parallels.
Spell 'coyote' on the first try.
Stare at my engagement ring for long moments.
Attempt a cup of the generic office coffee.
Drink Tazo Wild Sweet Orange Tea.
Really want to like Jack Johnson.
Find Jack Johnson boring.
Hum along anyway.
Make a to do list for after work that I was too tired to complete.
Swear that I will eat the frozen dinner that I've stored in the work freezer for a week.
Practice Hebrew and Greek alphabets and a Greek paradigm.
Fantasize about buying a space heater or electric blanket for my desk.
Silently despise Port-a-Potties (for the smell, not the utility).