The Natatorium

An emporium of oddities from around the world, complete with somewhat informative plaques that almost never match the item they are meant to be describing.

Saturday, February 19, 2005

The Key To My Heart

I know the title is cheesy and a horrible pun, but it seems fitting.

Here I am in Key Largo; it has been a packed 48 hours.

Thursday morning I woke up at 10:00, went to campus, and wrote my paper for Shakespeare and Ethics. I ended up writing a dialogue between Shakespeare, Kant, Isabella, and Angelo. It was set in the Mudhouse and John from Boris Yeltsin made a guest apperance. Yes, I got a little bit carried away with it.

After turning in my paper and taking care of some other business on campus, I went to visit my grandma (i.e. eat her food) and then went to work. Worked until midnight, then went to see Constantine. I don't know why it's been getting bad reviews; I liked it. A lot. I really, really liked it. Not "favorite movie ever!" liked it, but still. It was good. It was like Dogma, only serious.

Got home from the movie 'round 3:00am, packed a suitcase, left for the airport. Ate McDonald's Breakfast in Dallas, got to Ft. Lauderdale 'round 12:30pm Eastern, drove to Key Largo. Everything was better when I finally saw the ocean, and before Sundown I fed a real, wild Manatee. I was *obsessed* with Manatees when I was about 9, so it was quite an experience. They're just like elephants, only made for water, with smaller trunks. We watched the sunset on the beach (a necessary Flordia Keys tradition) and ate at a bar on the water. Today we just sort of toured around to neat spots, beaches, docks, hotels, etc. Tomorrow is the big day; Miami South Beach, but tonight I'm writing a paper.

Anyway. The point. We're slowly coming to the point. Everytime I see the ocean, I feel at peace in a way. I become very melancholy, but in a good way. I feel like a woman whose betrothed has gone away over the sea on a ship, and every day she scans the horizon for ships, hoping for his return. I know that's nauseating cliché, but it's true. In a sense, I am waiting for him, even if I haven't met him yet. I don't feel like I'm waiting just for anyone, but for one specific person, and it feels like his name is just on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite draw it out of my mind.

I said on Tuesday that I don't believe in coup de foudre, love at first sight, but I suppose I do in a sense. I get the feeling that when I finally meet him, I'll just know, immediately, but it won't be love at first sight, because I'll sort of already know him. Does that make sense? I don't think it does, but I don't care. The ocean makes me all floaty and melancholy and cliché and sacred feminine and blah blah blah.

Well off I go to write about the ethics of McDonald's. I'm going to argue that McDonald's is excellent from an Aristotalian standpoint. I mean, you can complain about how bad their food is for you, but how many people really want to see McDonald's disappear completely? I mean, even if it's only once a month, or once a year, there are times you crave something from Micky D's. This should be fun.

I had better stop being all spacy so I can write this thing... I can feel another wave of melodrama coming on; get out while you still can! Or better yet, I'll go!


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