This Post Has Not Earned A Title

I spent tonight writing a post that I've somehow been writing for months, but cannot finish.  Since I've started I've had to change the opening anecdote several times, and the most relevant of the links has expired.  But you'll love it even in its bedraggled present state, I promise.

In the ever-fewer minutes I have until I'm not lucid enough to think of words I will make use of the ones I can lay my hands on to say that it took me over a day to find out that the Pope resigned.  For some reason this was the moment when I ceased to be my regular, relatively unconnected self and an almost imperceptibly different self, one who thinks she should maybe have a Facebook again.  The next threshold is the one between this self, who is terrified of Facebook and its ilk on a very visceral level but realizes it is useful in a lot of ways, and the one who isn't that worried about it.
I'm not sure what to think.  I'm tempted to say that I wish I had well-considered reasons for the present state of affairs that drew equally on an abstract ideological perspective and the demands of living a healthy, beautiful, productive but still very driven-by-practicality daily life, you know, just in case, but I don't actually wish that.  I think what I actually wish is that I had a very specific, eloquent glint in my eye, preferably my left eye, and when I looked at someone they would just see that glint and know, that's it.  That's why she doesn't have a Facebook.





Or not, either one is fine.  This isn't a great post.  So here are three pictures from my healthy, beautiful, productive, still-more-glittering-adjectives daily life, just for you:

Some poems I like, and a stack of books from when I was proving to someone that Slovenian exists.

This brick I somehow acquired and dressed up as myself on the last day of my Intensive Polish program.  (This was several years ago.  I do not look like this brick any more.)

Most of an unusually attractive breakfast I once ate.