danajohnhill.org

I was awoken this morning by extremely loud thunder, which must have originated nearby, since the flashes of lightning were nearly simultaneous.  The rain had not ceased by the time I had to leave for school, so I donned my backpack as usual, and over it a poncho I bought at Disney World, and started pedalling toward campus.  The poncho leaves most of my legs uncovered, so from about three inches above my knees my pants were saturated, down to my shoes, and into my socks.  My bicycle has no fenders, so I also sported an elegant dirt stripe on the back of my pants and the bottom of my backpack.  But, on the plus side, I barely broke a sweat over the three-and-a-half mile ride.

I did add a class about ancient Egypt to my schedule, and it is the first class I have ever taken in McCarty Hall.  It’s in an auditorium, and, in spite of the rain, it seemed nearly full.  I dropped the course about America in the 1970s.  I had reservations about the instructor, and it would require a goodly amount of writing, whereas the Egyptology class requires none.

On my bike ride home, after it had stopped raining, I encountered a small boy also on a bicycle.  He said, “What’s up, dude?  Want to race?”  He couldn’t have been more than eight years old.

In The Nation this week, David Margolick writes about two old friends who made a hobby of writing letters to the New York Times, hoping to get published.  One met with repeated success, the other with consistent failure.  Margolick alludes to people “who have spent lifetimes trying to break into the Times”, and equates getting a letter printed as managing to “crack the code”.

I don’t know that it’s really that big a mystery.  I have written maybe six letters to the editor of the New York Times, and three of them have been published.  Two have been about classical music, and another about the expanding exurbs of the Tampa Bay metropolitan area.  I write letters when I am inspired by a topic.  Obviously, I have eschewed inflammatory rhetoric when I have written.  I know letters from crackpots don’t stand much of a chance in the Times.  The Gainesville Sun, on the other hand….

I didn’t get a single haircut in 1994.  By the end of the following year I looked like a beardless hippie.  When the urge struck to shed my locks, I didn’t want to go to just anyone.  Sitting on a chair in Linda Fessenden’s bathroom, I watched my long hair fall on the floor.  From then on, if I needed a haircut, I’d go to a friend or do it myself.  The upside to this was that I saved a lot of money; the downside was that I often had bad hair.

When I first began seeing Miriam, I asked if she’d be willing to cut my hair.  I think she did once, but haircuts, in her opinion, are best left to professionals.  So, beginning in 2001 or so, she and I started seeing Amy at The Tease, which used to be in an upstairs suite on SE 1st Street.  Amy was nice, and did a good job, but The Tease was very expensive, and, if I recall correctly, Amy only got a fraction of what we paid.  Eventually she left The Tease and Miriam and I sought a new hairdresser.

I don’t remember how, but we found a girl named Danielle with her own salon called Hair Supply in an old house right behind Wise’s Drugstore.  Danielle is really talented–so much so that Miriam feels free to say, “give me whatever”–and she’s a mom who’s running her own business, so we feel good about going to her.  Plus, she’s not that expensive, and, best of all, she is glad to take a before and after picture each time I go.  Since 2005 or so, Danielle has been the only one to cut my hair.

Last month I had an appointment that I simply forgot about.  I had written it down, but by April 16 I was so busy with papers and tests that I simply spaced out.  So, today was my makeup haircut.  Miriam told me the other day she liked my hair when it was a bit longer, so I only got a little taken off the back.  And, while I didn’t get a shampoo–my favorite part of the haircut procedure–it didn’t cost me anything.

Danielle doesn’t do any advertising I know of, and her name isn’t even written on the outside of her building, but it seems like half the people I know go to her.  While I was there, I ran into one of Miriam’s roller derby teammates.

I doubt I will ever grow long hair again.

This is a very busy time for me right now, with the end of the semester coinciding with the Spring pledge drive at work.  I had three long papers due last week, and four final exams this week (plus a dentist appointment tomorrow).  You’ll forgive me, therefore, if I do not write again before Friday afternoon.  I have a lot two write about, too, including school, roller derby, plumbing, television, work, friends, books, motorized bicycles, and so on.

Plus, I’ll write about writing itself.  A course I took this spring really opened my eyes about what constitutes good writing.

Also, I’m not so worried about swine flu.

I recognize that 2008 was, for many, a bad year.  The worst economy in generations, rising unemployment, and record prices for almost everthing stemming from gasoline that topped $4.00 a gallon made life difficult for a lot of people.  In spite of all this, 2008 was good to me.  Some highlights:

• I began classes at the University of Florida.  This is remarkable, because had I waited any longer the window would have closed on me, probably forever.  The University announced this year that they were changing their admissions policy for transfer students.  Unlike other universities in Florida, UF doesn’t have to admit students with transfer degrees from community colleges.  They can pick and choose.  And when the average GPA for entering freshmen at UF is over 4.0, there is little incentive for them to take people like me.  I got in just under the wire.  School is challenging, but rewarding.  I feel very grateful to be where I am.
• This year I became active in a roller debry league.  I am not a skater, of course, but I spent a lot of time with the girls who are skaters, and contributed to the league in my own small way.
• I did lots of traveling in 2008.  In January I spent a weekend in Daytona Beach at the wedding of my closest friends; in June I spent almost a week in Chicago, which is surely one of the world’s great cities; in early August I spent several days in Hilton Head, South Carolina, which I didn’t care much for as a place, but can now say I’ve seen; went to Savannah twice; had a great weekend in Chapel Hill, North Carolina, which is a delightful little town; had an incredibly memorable week in Washington, DC, where I saw a million amazing things.
• I made lots of new friends, and reconnected with many old friends on Facebook.  I saw Burt twice.
• I got myself an amazing Fender Telecaster, which is ideal in nearly every way.
• I continued my incredible no-vomiting streak.
• I paid off all of my credit card debt.
• I watched lots of Olympics on TV.
• I became the last person I know to buy a laptop computer, and it’s changed my life.
• I discovered Samuel Johnson, which also changed my life.
• I had several photographs published in books, magazines, and even the website of the Wall Street Journal.
• I ate an astonishing amount of Hungry Howie’s pizza.
• I perfected the grilled cheese sandwich (the secret ingredient is salt).
• I read: Emma; Persuasion; Oroonoko; Wuthering Heights; Lady Audley’s Secret; Evelina; Robinson Crusoe; Roxana; Oliver Twist; The Monk; Clarissa; Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, and tons of poetry.
• I saw Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band in concert; they played “Jungleland”.

So long, 2008.  You were good to me.  As I do every year, I close with the Stephen Foster sentiment that has become my credo: Hard Times Come Again No More.