Living Like Weasels

I must begin this with an opening completely irrelevant to my response just because it must be said and shared with people whom I feel can relate and appreciate this circumstance.

If you were a stranger, driving through a small alley (a resident or most-likely someone completely lost) as the rain pours down through the passing Southern California clouds and for some spontaneous reason you happened to look to your left, you would find an peculiar sight. Through the blur of your windshield wipers, you would probably squint and rub the fog from the window to get a better look. There, sitting in between two cars on a decrepit wooden bench in the shelter of my parent's balcony, is me. The only light seen is the soft glow from the computer screen illuminating my face and what manages to sneak its way out the crack in the front door. My ice cream bowl next to me (an ever so witty remark written in bold print upon it, "Cup of YO MAMA") and covered in a warm, blanket, I am set and ready for my final blog assignment of this week. Being a stranger though, you don't know this and think to yourself I am incredibly strange for sitting outside on this cold rainy night -if you were a grandmother or mother you might even spare another moment of thought to think that I could very well catch my death of a cold- at almost 11pm, then continue your journey on without a second thought.

Fun fact about Allie time; I love love LOVE to listen to the rain. And be in it. And the rain in general... you get the picture.

Back to Living Like Weasels...

First and foremost, when Jennette first assigned our humble writing class to read this essay, I found it an interesting piece but couldn't manage to shake my distaste for rodents. Most people often find mice, hamsters, and even rats to be cute. I am not one of those people. If the option is presented, I avoid touching or encountering rodents at my convenience. Otherwise, I choose to observe from a safe distance. Do not be mistaken, I am not afraid of our little "friends", I simply choose to avoid them... whenever possible. My best friend Claira has a younger sister Kate who just had the delight of buying a small hamster (joy!)... Kate seems to make it a point to bring her charming little animal in to crawl on me whenever I am over at their house. Seeing that she is obviously oblivious to my distaste, I indulge her innocent motives and grin and bear the small little claws that tickle my skin as they crawl up my neck and tangle themselves in my hair. Kate's happiness is worth more to me then my own personal comfort so this sacrifice happens to be made every time I am at their house now and I have reached the point of patient tolerance -who knows, maybe one day I will grow to like the little... thing. But let's not get carried away though!

On a more grammatically analytical perspective, Annie Dillard paints a wonderful description and makes the shift from a narrative and story-like sentence structure to an almost persuasive structure with smooth and easy skill -this I find to be a difficult talent to cultivate and therefore respect her for this. Kudos! (whatever that means, I believe it's positive though so I'm going to use it anyways because I like the word)

This is probably a very abrupt ending but this is where I sign off as my brain has slowly crashed from its sugar/caffiene peak in to a valley of a muddled daze... Goodnight :)