Taken: Both Roads

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by. And that has made ALL the difference.”

“AGAIN. This time I want it even LOUDER.”


Every summer, at Nebraska Wesleyan University’s basketball camp, we bellowed these words back to the HBIC. These words were the key to our future, she said. We nodded earnestly, clinging to their innate confidence.

We did the same, when our seventh grade English teacher preached of Robert Frost’s prowess.

We hoped the college admission peeps did the same when they read the essays we crafted around his wholly undisputed grail of inspiration – you know, just to show them the kind of unique risk-takers we really were.

At what point would it have been appropriate for us to say, “No sh*t, Sherlock.”

I mean, I love Robert Frost. I even love The Road Not Taken. But are we really going to sit here and pretend it’s groundbreaking? “Two roads diverged in the wood, and I – I took the one less traveled by. And that has made all the difference.” So you’re saying, if we choose adifferent path than the masses, that decision will have a major effect on our lives?! This is part of the curriculum that is supposed to prepare our nation’s children for the real world. Call me optimistic, but I feel like that’s something most kids could figure out on their own. I’d like to know what he did when he came to two roads that looked…pretty much the same.

Entry Level Position of Death by Fluorescent Lighting to the left or Entry Level Position of Death by Indentured Slavery to the right? Now there’s something sticky little hands could cling to. (Though, admittedly, the cadence isn’t quite as calming.)

Or maybe that’s where choir rehearsal came in.

Overheard in LA

The man-child next to me at Le Pain, breaking things down for his new assistant:

"Andrea is annoying. I’ve given her unrealistic budgets on the projects she wants to work on; so if she says yes, we make a sh*tload of money. If she says no, we don’t have to do it. Because we don’t want to do it."

…Someone might want to tell Andrea.

The next half hour of conversation covered everything from what to do when everyone ends up blackout at a celebrity-filled after-party: “Drunk girls always try to do business. Take note of that. I don’t want to work with b*tches like that.” -  to how to handle “star-f*ckers” in meetings: “She kept staring down at her t*ts, and I was just like, I’m not in the mood today. Get her out of there.”


The poor child across the table from a-hole extraordinaire just kept smiling, nodding eagerly and nervously rubbing his legs.  

Living. The. Dream.

The Death of Cursive

Cursive script is disappearing. Apparently, several schools have deemed it an unnecessary practice, and are replacing its spot in the school curriculum with keyboarding. 

Read all about it here.

Back in the late 80’s, I was able to learn both. Proficiently. (Without the aid of a home computer, I might add.) But these districts claim they are running out of time in the day:

"We’re trying to be realistic about skills that kids are going to need," says Jill Camnitz, a longtime school board member in Greenville, N.C. "You can’t do everything. Something’s got to go."

Sounds like someone’s an underachiever.

But I guess she has a point - why would a kid need to learn how to sign his name, when X is always an option?!

Oh - and according to handwriting expert, Michelle Dresbold, ‘Typing doesn’t help the brain develop as much as writing in longhand…children are not thinking as thoroughly.’

Awesome. That’s exactly what we need.  People thinking less thoroughly.

I’m going to go cry over some half-formed status updates now.

Living by Design

Business Insider recently posted this article, hailing Irvine, CA as the most fashionable city in America, based on new research from Bundle. (Excuse me, while I cough up the coffee I don’t drink for a second.)

What did this research entail, exactly?

                                                        This photo is from an Irvine fashion show. 'Nuff said.

From Bundle’s website:

We selected the 50 largest cities by population in our data set and created a fashion-conscious index, with 1.0 being average. We based our index on the percentage of “fashion-conscious households” in our sample, which we defined as households that had at least four transactions at top-end designer merchants in the past 30 months. 

Here’s my issue with this survey.  Top-end designer merchants carry a lot of clothing.  A LOT.  One might even say that there is something for everyone who is willing to pay for it. What did these people buy?  How did they wear it? Did it complement/or enhance their personal style?

The fact that their obviously extensive research fails to take into account the age-old adage Money Can’t Buy Style renders their intended message ridiculous, in my eyes. I’ll go ahead and include your eyes as well.  You’re welcome.

They seem to think this whole thing is more surprising than everyone else knows it really is.

Irvine. Home of Orange County. Home of plastic surgery, platinum blonde hair, and a penchant for proving one’s worth with a wallet…how shocking that they, of all places, have been found to spend the most amount of money at the most widely accepted bastions of fashion.

Just change the title.  That’s all I ask.  And please don’t ever put Irvine and fashion in the same sentence again.

Editor’s Note: I do have fashionable friends who claim Irvine as their point of origin; however, I would suggest that the word despite would come into play in this conversation. Italicized and possibly even bold. #luckyones