A first post is born

It's so strange, the titles that kept going through my mind for this blog. I just couldn't think of anything good. I kept thinking, "This blog is your blog, this blog is my blog," and "Blog, Blog, Bloggity Blog" (as in "Spam, spam, spammity spam"), and "Bloggin' in the USA," and "To Blog or not to Blog? That is the question." I am just not meant to put titles on things. It is not my calling. At least I didn't call it "This little blog of mine, I'm gonna let it shine" or "Inna Gadda Da Blogga, Baby." I'm telling you, my brain could come up with nothing, just nothing.

So, I have created another blog. The reason is mostly mundane. When I started teaching again this semester, I realized that my students were going to google me. I don't say that in order to be insanely self-important: I am sure they have many more important and fascinating things to do. It's just, well, it's only natural to google your professors these days. But picturing my students reading my blog put me in a state of complete, paralyzed silence. So I've done everything I can, in my technologically unsavvy way, to have nothing on this blog that will lead to me if someone googles me. I hope I succeeded. I would like to feel somewhat less inhibited about things. I couldn't think of a very good username so I called myself "Lola" after a song my friend Jenny and I wrote when we were girls together... a very, very amazing song, if I do say so myself. I don't know if our musical virtuosity ever reached a greater height, so I settled on that name as the pinnacle of our artistic achievement.

So what can I say for myself today? Well, today I was so tired that I repeatedly said the seventh coordinating conjunction was "since," and my students repeatedly corrected me, howling, "So! So! Not since!" I guess I should be proud of them. Also, a gas station attendant hit on me. I could hardly believe it. It was an unreal situation. I was feeling completely exhausted and unattractive and just wanting to get home. He leaned in my window and told me I had a beautiful complexion, which is certainly not true, especially since the pregnancy. Then he said if I wore more makeup (as it is, I don't wear ANY), he thought I could get close to the point of looking like a model. It went on and on, far too long. I had to ask him several times to run my card through the machine so I could proceed with my business. I thought he was never going to let me get away. I can't believe this sort of thing would happen to me at this point in my life. It was honestly unflattering and just tiresome and dumb, and almost made me want to cry because I was so eager to get home and he was getting in my way and bugging me and bugging me.

Well, I must go for now.