In which education has actually harmed my chances of being employed.

Yes, that's right. A pox upon the professors and teachers who, well-meaning, have instilled in me the ability to think critically and thoroughly about every aspect of something.

I am thus incapable of writing a cover letter.

'Well, see, I'm pretty awesome! (Except for this, this, this, and this.) (And actually, this other person would probably be better because of this, and this.)'

Who loves the rain

One day I'll make an LJ icon from this poem, just because. Until then, here's the person I want to spend my life with, if I am lucky enough to meet them. (And if they like women romantically, and if they aren't already taken. With my luck, they'll like men only, and be married.)

I first found it in a songbook of all places, when I was thirteen, and it struck me - I wish I could find the music again.

Who Loves the Rain

By Frances Shaw


WHO loves the rain
And loves his home,
And looks on life with quiet eyes,
Him will I follow through the storm;
And at his hearth-fire keep me warm;
Nor hell nor heaven shall that soul surprise,
Who loves the rain,
And loves his home,
And looks on life with quiet eyes.