tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26556943888264954272011-10-31T12:03:19.959-05:00Reconstructing deconstructive philosophical thinkingJoyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.comBlogger461100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-83096444091669123072011-07-11T13:02:00.000-05:002011-07-11T13:02:07.971-05:00

I was cleaning my house recently and ran across my copy of poet Sylvia Plath's unabridged journals. I remember stalking the book at the Barnes and Noble at Union Square, NYC 2000 when I was a broke, struggling marketing goddess in the making. I then, too, saw myself as a poet, not unlike my high school days when us girls would wear floral dresses with chokers reciting Sylvia and Anne Sexton,

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-73042909524881149762011-05-01T22:30:00.000-05:002011-05-01T22:30:48.832-05:00

As I have discussed in my previous blogs, I have, what some might say, an un-conventional relationship with the Church, God, etc. I do not find this unconventionality to be that unusual, though. Increasingly I find that, at best, religion and spirituality gets more ambiguous as we get older and, at worst, falls to the bottom of our “to think about” list. As we settle into our lives and our

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-24876471431491365522011-04-29T13:55:00.000-05:002011-04-29T13:55:36.922-05:00

Yes, I was one of the people who got up at 4:00 am to watch the Royal Wedding. Since I am about to hit the afternoon slump, I thought I would write a few brief words. Appropriate. Dignified. Modest. Now, how can these words describe an event of such pomp and circumstance? Well, William and Kate were all of that and more this morning. Although I could have handled a bit more bling and a longer

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-85887332971873107302011-04-21T13:35:00.001-05:002011-04-22T12:31:46.524-05:00

It should be of no surprise to you that I got a virtual "A" in Lutheran Confirmation. For two years I did Bible readings, memorized verses, and did my homework. On Wednesday nights when other girls were sneaking a read of Cosmo and talking to the boyfriend on the telephone, I was in a Sunday School classroom talking about Martin Luther. When we got to the concept of the Trinity, I was perplexed

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-8553698907950589752011-03-28T15:50:00.000-05:002011-03-28T15:50:13.296-05:00

I (heart) iTunes despite their ridiculously stringent music ownership rights (aka, although I buy music, I actually down "own it") and their constant need to cross-sell other items to me based on my prior purchases, as if my tastes are that predictable. I also (heart) the home page. I love to see what everyone else is buying. What new albums have come out. It keeps me in touch and soothes me

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-38215319808378553252011-03-21T13:34:00.002-05:002011-03-25T12:26:45.020-05:00

Lately, I am haunted by my hyper-sensitive sense of smell. Or perhaps overwhelmed is a better word. In being alive here for near 34 years I have come to appreciate the fact that my "guiding" sense at any given period of time changes.  When I was in high school and I was dancing every waking moment, everything was about touch. Partnering, feeling the ballet barre, the solidity of the ground. They

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-75870327612541258292011-02-08T07:24:00.000-06:002011-02-08T07:24:07.788-06:00

I’m not one for celebrity crushes. Well, except for Robert Downey Jr.. And Christian Bale.. and Clive Owen.. Hmmm I see a bad boy trend happening here. Like I said, I am not one for celebrity crushes, so, in an effort to focus on responsible, honest, consistent, and loving men in my real life, I will direct my bad-boy obsessions to gentlemen way outside my time and reach. The truth is – if they’

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-31759408628335210832011-01-24T13:25:00.001-06:002011-01-24T21:52:33.858-06:00

Today Pope Benedict VI made a statement about the Holy Roman Catholic Church’s stance on social networking. In short, he praised it but reminded the world that online communities are not a substitute for meaningful in-person relationships. Despite the Pope’s refusal to re-think his position on birth control (he reaffirmed the Church’s long standing condemnation in 2008), I tend to agree with

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-11455116846381275402011-01-18T22:57:00.002-06:002011-01-19T16:03:07.560-06:00

During my childhood there was an uncanny "coincidence" between two events. One - my dress-up dance performance that lasted well past their cuteness and two - my grandmother saying, "Well, now. Sack's full." I didn't really understand what this meant. Was I misunderstanding what she was saying? What does a sack being full have to do with my amazing performance of balletic drama? And, aren't all

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-81411910403824628062011-01-08T22:15:00.000-06:002011-01-08T22:15:26.288-06:00

Just a quick note. One of my poems is going to be published in the Meridian Anthology of Contemporary Poetry this spring. Thought I would share it here. The poem is based on the Cy Twombly painting at the Menil Collection in Houston. This is, truly, my most favorite place in the world (besides the back porch at the ranch and the hamam at The Standard Miami Beach). Below is a picture of the

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-45870371731051427192011-01-06T16:05:00.002-06:002011-01-06T16:18:29.239-06:00

I was never meant to be a performer, not really. I had no problem spending hours upon hours in the dance studio, practicing my parts, trying to perfect a gesture but something would happen before I set my pointe shoes on-stage. Horror. The kind that makes you want to throw up.There were girls who danced with me who said they felt their whole body go up in flames when the lights hit them.

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-24652199250988577942010-12-26T19:15:00.003-06:002010-12-26T19:49:54.205-06:00

I am still in a food coma. Between my trip to Spain (where I could eat tapas all day and night) and then the slide into Christmas, any sense of judgment, discretion, or responsibility regarding all grown up activities has pretty much vacated my one bedroom apartment. Yes, my clothes do still fit and I have not amassed any NSF fees but I feel like I am walking in a fog of decadence.In the last

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-70813383722316061452010-12-19T19:23:00.004-06:002010-12-19T20:16:37.661-06:00

I admit it. I have been unreasonably festive this year. I put up a (small, black) tree. I made Christmas cards, hung stockings and botched fancy pink and sparkly white slipper-shaped holiday cookies. I have jeweled and jingled and listened to Holiday Traditions on Sirius XM for near two weeks already. And though I am usually quite through with Christmas by the first week in December, this year

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-30834450495969687882010-11-10T14:21:00.002-06:002010-11-10T14:26:51.350-06:00

I admit to loving small bags. Not small bags encrusted with jewels resembling small animals but clutches, wrist bags, and coin purses. I just love them. However, the fact of the matter is that I am not Holly Golightly and so my little loves become problematic for several reasons: (1) I must actually keep things (other than lipstick) in my purse because nobody gives me money for the powder room (2

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-85268032299901505052010-10-13T21:47:00.004-05:002010-10-13T23:09:01.863-05:00

I have had several interesting conversations this week with people on immigration and I can't keep from thinking about language.The closest I have ever come to understanding what it must be like to be an immigrant is when I lived in Miami. I learned very quickly that Spanish was the primary language and that - unless I wanted to go to Fort Lauderdale - I needed to get up to speed in the espanol

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-15469118929034036322010-10-09T01:50:00.010-05:002010-10-12T23:43:16.300-05:00

One of my all-time favorite things is the Musical. While growing up, my sister and I would watch Oklahoma!, The Sound of Music, My Fair Lady, etc on VHS on long summer days while our parents were at work. I swear we knew all of Agnes de Mille's choreography for "Many a New Day" where the girls from Oklahoma! sing and dance in their petticoats.The reason I love musicals over theater, proper, is

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-86268881148141626632010-10-03T09:05:00.002-05:002010-10-09T18:53:41.469-05:00

Okay, folks. I hate to disappoint but this blog post will only contain links to images of pretty pictures. No intellect. No concepts. Just 25 of the best fashion moments in film (in no particular order):1. Jennifer Beals: Flashdance. Thank you, Jennifer Beals for making my first trip to a strip club a complete disappointment - no cool, artistic outfits, no groundbreaking choreography. What a

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-11971393046719012742010-09-29T13:13:00.003-05:002010-09-29T21:22:03.548-05:00

This blog is dedicated to the artist Rene Magritte and, unlike my normal posts, a little bit of interactivity will be involved. I will be mentioning some artworks and, since I am not smart enough to embed photos in my blog, please click on the hyperlinks to get the "real experience."Most of you have seen Magritte's work, even if you don't know him by name. One piece, a painting of a pipe,

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-34898177705478380282010-09-20T13:10:00.002-05:002010-09-20T13:48:22.441-05:00

"The end."I do not have much experience with this concept. I remember my mother reading it to me while I heaved a sigh of relief because, although I thought the princess wasn't going to make it this time, she managed to be rescued in the end. And even now, reading tragic heroines who make bad occupation/boyfriend/mother-in-law decisions, whether their fate is life or death, by the end of a novel

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-60886859534843182722010-08-20T17:02:00.003-05:002010-08-21T23:57:52.699-05:00

Virginia Woolf wrote: Nothing has really happened until it has been recorded. Being a writer, myself, this seems to make sense. Most things that have happened in my life have been scribbled down into a notebook of some sort. When moving this past month, I found the plastic boxes of journals I have kept throughout the years. Yes, even the ones from high school. I have been trying to inspire myself

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-76401533338238285872010-08-15T18:11:00.003-05:002010-08-15T18:46:49.253-05:00

Poem No. 42e.e. cummings 50 Poems (published in 1940)love is more thicker than forgetmore thinner than recallmore seldom that a wave is wetmore frequent than to failit is most mad and moonlyand less it shall unbethan all the sea which onlyis deeper than the sealove is always less than to winless never than aliveless bigger than the least beginless littler than forgiveit is more sane and sunlyand

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-35780617331265459682010-08-05T08:34:00.002-05:002010-08-05T10:03:00.842-05:00

My dad has taught me practically since birth that every good investor has a balanced stock portfolio. And since I am not that heady with all things financial, I appreciate that comment as a concept more than as a rigor by which to identify and purchase investments. The fact that I only look at my 401(k) once a year is a testament to this.He has also taught me to be risky with my investments while

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-68520099813013488312010-07-26T19:42:00.004-05:002010-07-26T19:57:20.410-05:00

For those of you who were not able to make it to the show or the artist talk, here are the notes on my piece at Lawndale:The basic concept behind Byron's Strategy is about the power of words and their ability to seduce and, in this case, seduce women. Lord Byron, the quintessential British Romantic poet who wrote "She Walks in Beauty Like the Night," was infamous for being a great seducer. In

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-33655502272293430692010-06-13T21:00:00.003-05:002010-06-14T23:12:11.530-05:00

The past few years have forced me to make a major compromise in my life. Living in a state where the only thing more important than the right to bear arms is the right to Friday night high school football, I prided myself in my complete denial of all things "sporty." And although this demonstrated my intellectual sensibilities, I found that it kept me from connecting with, basically, everyone

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-18468676913244168222010-05-31T19:47:00.003-05:002010-05-31T21:31:19.507-05:00

The only person I know who loves Mexican food more than me is my sister. We both agree that it is perfectly acceptable to eat Mexican food for up to two times a day - every day. Breakfast tacos, flautas, guacamole, refried beans, fajitas. They are all great. Every year at Christmas we ditch the ham and turkey and have tacos and enchiladas. It has become a kind of tradition in our family and as we

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-47322844121335992822010-05-27T07:23:00.002-05:002010-05-27T07:29:04.664-05:00

The Texas Attorney General, Greg Abbott, has given me a specific directive and although I tend to ignore the mandates of public officials when it comes to speed limits, where I can and cannot take my purse sized dog and putting liquids in quart-sized bags at the airport, this one I can’t ignore. On his website, Mr. Abbott has told me that I am possibly in a dangerous position and should alert

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-84045988162676940682010-05-02T18:15:00.003-05:002010-05-02T18:40:43.904-05:00

Looking at a blank page is horrible. Artists, and those of us who want to be artists, find the terror of nothing ness exciting, overwhelming and full of possibilities. When forced to look at the page or canvas, every reality or unreality becomes possible. It is exhilarating. It is scary, but we want to overcome it.For everyone else, there is the aisle of stickers, stamps, and fancy scissors for

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-83978676734328294702010-04-27T16:57:00.000-05:002010-04-27T16:58:14.798-05:00

I heard once that every girl either consciously or subconsciously chooses a myth or fairy tale to inform her perspective on relationships. Some have the Cinderella complex and think that while suffering away at a thankless job not making nearly enough money to buy proper couture, she can save up to purchase that one special pair of Jimmy Choos, the ones that when she wears them to a trendy bar a

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-62161572031247513462010-04-25T20:39:00.003-05:002010-04-25T21:11:28.045-05:00

To everything there is a season. - Ecclesiastes 3:1 The first time I ever heard Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 was not at church. Undeniably, it was while I was in the car listening to Oldies radio with my parents on the way back from my grandparent's house. It was not until much later that I realized that this song was almost word for word straight from the Old Testament. I must admit, this was

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-32619075572603497942010-02-15T20:33:00.002-06:002010-02-15T20:43:07.189-06:00

Joy or happiness has never been a primary topic in philosophy. Social order and a strong lobbying effort by Plato to make philosophers supreme rulers have given us one of philosophy’s main emphases: politics. Social contract theorists like Locke (whose work our legal system is based on), Hobbes (whose every law firm’s ecosystem is based on), and Rousseau (who Marie Antoinette read while

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-81967533581496711442010-02-02T18:23:00.002-06:002010-02-02T18:31:48.454-06:00

Last night my friend and I went and heard Elizabeth Gilbert read from her new novel Committed. For those of you who haven't looked at the NY Times Bestseller List, the Paperback Picks table at Barnes & Noble, the paperbacks at your local grocery store or heard about the upcoming movie where Julia Roberts plays a 31-year old Gilbert (really, Julia?), Elizabeth Gilbert wrote Eat, Pray, Love. This

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-2039957522081568412010-01-31T17:27:00.003-06:002010-01-31T17:32:14.707-06:00

People ask me all the time if I am an atheist. Actually, people assume all the time that I am an atheist. To set the record straight, I want to let you know that, conclusively, I am not. Now, this is not to say that I am not a sharp critic of Christian (or any other) Fundamentalism and that I do not have extreme doubt regarding God (the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost) thing.My mother did everything

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-67395895966066775632010-01-04T19:12:00.003-06:002010-01-04T19:23:07.047-06:00

The new year is all about change. Janus, the Roman god for beginnings and endings, gateways, and doorways is the namesake of our current month and in his honor, as we begin making resolutions that we probably will only keep for two weeks, we must refer to our past in order to move into our future. For me and most of my friends, we all make sacred promises to ourselves that we will work out more.

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-14893530897497102442010-01-02T13:53:00.002-06:002010-01-02T13:59:40.579-06:00

This year instead of donning my sparkles and sequins, drinking way too much champagne and dancing the night away, I decided to set a definitive goal for myself. I was going to “ring” in the new year by watching Wagner’s Der Ring des Nibelungen or for those of us who do not speak German, The Ring Cycle. This is a series of four operas that are based on Norse mythology and Nibelungenlied (an

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-52084838222099257372009-12-09T20:54:00.002-06:002009-12-09T20:58:14.338-06:00

Art Basel comes to Miami Beach once a year and I personally like to think it’s because of my friend’s birthday. For five days Miami Beach and surrounding areas become the home to emerging and established artists, alike. From the convention center and museums to restaurants and temporary tents, the whole city re-orients itself around the art scene. And though during any other time of year, Miami

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-66832547437443632742009-11-15T16:20:00.002-06:002009-11-15T16:24:41.505-06:00

Mozart was an “Ad Man” but perhaps I have been watching too much Mad Men lately.I went to the symphony last night with my parents and saw Mozart’s Piano Concerto No. 22. You have probably heard the lilting, skipping little melody in the 3rd movement:(This is why I love the internet: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FUL13KEeS4s)Much to my shock, although I was truly looking forward to my night of

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-44122693031869100432009-10-30T19:16:00.003-05:002009-10-30T21:05:29.497-05:00

Trick or treating has always been fun for me because it presented an opportunity to wear whatever I could dream up. My sister and I were never subscribers to traditional, pre-frabicated costumes, and we never had the same approach to their thematic content, either. For me, I wanted the idealized and intellectual. One year, mom sewed a princess costume, another year I was a Greek Goddess. My

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-58018952490541673952009-10-27T18:08:00.004-05:002009-10-27T19:32:33.121-05:00

"Being highly stressed can rewire the brain in ways that promote its sinister persistence," writes Natalie Angier, my current favorite columnist for the NY Times. In her article "Brain is a Co-Conspirator in a Vicious Stress Loop," Natalie describes recent studies on our laboratory friend, the rat, and how, when exposed to consistent levels of high-stress, its brain loses its ability to make true

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-14976662566592258362009-10-24T16:52:00.002-05:002009-10-24T17:18:36.156-05:00

“Howard Roark laughed,” and so starts Ayn Rand’s The Fountainhead. Roark, one of the story’s two central characters, is a tragically gifted architect who suffers first in the misunderstanding of his seemingly un-human designs and then suffers more in their eventual popularity. He is positioned in direct opposition to Peter Keating, a people-pleasing architect who thinks that his own success is

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-35672827534722607952009-10-20T23:16:00.001-05:002009-10-20T23:18:24.924-05:00

Whenever I visit my parents I am consistently amazed by how the urban world hinders our ability to see the stars. Pollution, brightly lit buildings, and sheer density keeps us from understanding our place in the universe. Looking at the sky this past weekend at my parents’ property, I saw a shooting star amongst the millions of illuminated pin pricks that twinkled above my hoodied ponytail. (This

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-44808334925136710302009-09-30T18:48:00.004-05:002009-09-30T21:55:07.327-05:00

Let's tell the truth. Admit it. Sometimes, you just don't want to get back to people. You are tired or busy or want to watch Gossip Girl. I feel this way and commit acts of negligence against many of my friends, some of which are reading this now. I cannot claim technical difficulty or my internet being down. There is no lack of connectivity. I have a back-up system for my back-up system. I have

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-85008773816715534382009-09-20T16:02:00.000-05:002009-09-20T16:03:05.963-05:00

From the short story I am working on:I now understand that at some point you have to throw away a plant when it is dead. You think that the few leaves that are still hanging tight are witness to a transformation that you have yet to witness. The truth is that they just haven’t fallen off yet, but they will. I watched my mother, my uncle’s sister, follow that rule while I was growing up. She never

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-33464632418189958592009-09-03T22:35:00.003-05:002009-09-03T22:37:03.266-05:00

No philosophy tonight, folks. Wanted to share one of the most beautiful love poems ever written - ee cummings is truly a genius. Perhaps its a bit hokey, but given the theme of the upcoming days, I thought it appropriate. Love you Sister!i carry your heart with me i carry your heart with me(i carry it inmy heart)i am never without it(anywherei go you go,my dear; and whatever is doneby only me is

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-6727796779243123722009-08-31T18:53:00.002-05:002009-08-31T19:56:35.045-05:00

My sister's wedding is rapidly coming upon me. Well, coming upon all of us - our family, his family, all of their friends, all of the vendors who will be getting (over)paid, the waitresses who will be taking our orders, all of the chocolate chip pancakes which we will be eating at 8:30 in the morning. Did I mention the wedding is happening, literally, before God has brushed his teeth? Nonetheless

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-55495944525721180932009-08-27T19:32:00.002-05:002009-08-27T20:18:26.748-05:00

I happened upon this quote while shopping for an appropriate literary selection for my maid of honor toast which will debut at my sister's upcoming wedding. (Note: This quote did not make the short list) It cracked me up for a variety of reasons. First of all, this is exactly the day I have had.Secondly, this sounds exactly like something my dad would say, so I sent it to him via text message.

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2655694388826495427.post-52215718686341040972009-08-24T19:22:00.000-05:002009-08-24T19:40:44.445-05:00

Yes, Diotima is in distress! Where else will I get the space to process all of the theoretical thinking I try to bury while doing my job? Hence - the creation of Diotima's Dialogue. Through this blog I hope to discuss - with candor and comedy - how I use philosophy everyday in my professional and personal life. I admit that I will also use to it to share my own personal dramas. Note: this blog

Joyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13895340009745841072noreply@blogger.com1