Have I not mentioned that it’s good to be back?

Low-Acid Tomato Bruschetta = The Perfect Summer Dinner

Things I love about being home: Part II

My mom accidentally bought me Annie’s Arthur Mac and Cheese.

Book of the Week: The Virgin Suicides

Jeffrey Eugenides probably has the freshest writing style I’ve seen in a long time. I can’t pronounce his last name, but nonetheless I love him. I haven’t been so enthralled with a book since The Perks of Being a Wallflower. The Virgin Suicides is a perfect mixture of commonplace setting and coming-of-age noir. His words are delicious. I couldn’t pick just one quote:

‘And it was then Cecilia gave orally what was to be her only form of a suicide note, and a useless one at that, because she was going to live: “Obviously, Doctor,” she said, “you’ve never been a thirteen-year-old girl.”’

‘She held herself very straight, like Audrey Hepburn, whom all women idolize and men never think about.’

‘It was the greatest show of common effort in our neighborhood, all those lawyers, doctors, and mortgage bankers locked arm in arm in the trench, with our mothers bringing out orange Kool-Aid, and for a moment our century was noble again.’

‘…Trip spent his days wandering the halls, hoping for Lux to appear, the most naked person with clothes on he had ever seen.’

…my yelling upstairs that “THE OFFICE IS ON!” is just cause for my mother to run downstairs so we can watch, regardless of time of day or current activity. God bless syndication.

The other night some coy dogs started howling in the woods right next to our cabin at about 2am. Adam, sleeping at the foot of my bed, sleepily lifted his head, listened, and then decided to ignore their call to the hunt. He’s a very tough dog. 

i love summer i love summer i love summer i love summer i love summer i love summer.

Book of the Week: Ignorance

Milan Kundera is quickly becoming one of my favorite authors.  He just gets it. Ignorance is the story of a Czech ex-pat living in Paris and a Czech ex-pat living in Copenhagen (hollah!), and how their lives have overlapped and underlapped (why isn’t this a word?) and mirrored each other. This is a book about memory and longing and loneliness and the power of nostalgia. It’s about the ignorance of youth. Good stuff, especially coming back from a year abroad (not like my time abroad was anything compared to 20 years of emmigration to avoid Soviet rule in Czechoslovakia).

The story does not end satisfactorily but, for the first time, I’ve realized that’s not really important. The characters here, while likeable, are not important. What is important is the points which their lives, actions, and thoughts bring up. I know that this is kind of what LITERATURE is all about, but I guess I’m only coming to that realization now. Neuroscience majors ftw.

“After such a long time, her body, her face were finally being seen and appreciated, and because they were pleasing, a man invited her to share life with him.”

I don’t care how corny/creepy it is, I would take Jason Segel singing Styx to me any old day. 

Sometimes my MCAT review book likes to (try to) be witty. I wish I could say that I did not giggle at this one, but, alas, I cannot tell a lie.

Wallace had observed the same things as Darwin had on his voyage on the Beagle, and Darwin, being the scholar and gentleman he was, forwarded Wallace’s article for publication and included a short article on his own observations. The failure of the articles to arouse much interest gave Darwin the impetus to proceed with his own work…