ts eliot was wrong about april.

February sucks. I don't know how it packs so much suck into so few days, but every year, it manages. I've had it. Next year I'm going to think pretty seriously about taking my vacation in February - as much as I can fit. Because damn.

Right now I'm just glad it's almost over. I predict a much better mood first thing Monday.

heh.

I don't know why I read Washington Post sports columnist Tracee Hamilton - I often disagree with her about what's important, but I don't actually care enough about the sports issues she discusses to make it worth my energy (I mean, I do care about political and social issues, but look: I always disagree with Charles Krauthammer, and he pisses me off enough that I don't read him ever; I often disagree with George Will, but he doesn't, as much, so I do). You'd think I'd just skip her, but for some reason I keep clicking. Case in point: today she's talking about how figure skating has Lost Something with the new scoring system. And maybe it has; but I think along with some intangible artistic je ne sais quoi, it's lost a quite tangible corruptable je sais exactement quoi, and it's worth it. Tracee seems to be on the fence. Whatever.

But if I hadn't read the column, I'd never have run into this paragraph:

The system cuts both ways. It certainly doesn't reward artistic performers such as American Johnny Weir. Weir is graceful and fluid, his programs are clean and his music complements his choreography instead of serving as background Muzak. (His flamboyance also may work against him, which is ridiculous. Of course rhinestones sparkle a little brighter when Weir wears them. They know they are home.)

(Emphasis added.) :-D