Why Was I Born a Baby?

Why write an original blog post when I can just cut and paste from emails sent to me by readers? That's the question I asked myself today.

An excerpt from an email from Kari at Cupcake Show:

This is going to sound crazy, but for the past two nights I have had a
dream
where at some point I end up reading blogs. When I get to your blog, I
read
a post about writing and rain that you have written and one of the links
that you have in the post is called "Why Was I Born A Baby?". Every time I
try
to click on the link to see what it has to do with writing, I wake up in
real
life - and only remember that part of the dream later in the day.

Hmm. Interesting. Then she writes, "I think this means you are going to be a successful writer with a big book deal soon." A logical conclusion. Kari, I like the way you think. Also, "Why Was I Born a Baby?" is potentially a great title for a bad pop song. Look for it on the next Hillary Duff album.

Then SmartyPants wrote to recount this dialoge she overheard in the Smith College gym:

"What are you going to do after graduation?"
"I going to go home, rest, and maybe work for the summer."
"Me too. Do you know what you're going to do after that?"
"Well, I'm going to do a PhD in comp lit back in California. What about you?"
"I'm going to China, you know, on a fellowship."

Let's go to the tape for Smarty's analysis.

I tried not to barf all over myself. Then I thought, just you wait. Just you
wait until you have your first shitty job ... Just you wait until you spend
your weekend doing seven loads of laundry, a substantial portion of which is
your boyfriend's socks and underwear. Savor these moments now, girls, because I
was once like you, and someday you'll be like me... and the rest of us.

Speak for yourself, Smarty. I spent the day vaccuming out the copy machine after a toner exlosion. Mmm. That's good liberal arts. Well, I've got to go call my Dad and wash out my pantyhose in the sink. Just call me Carrie Bradshaw.