Death By Blogging

My little sissie e-mailed me about this death by blogging stuff. It was posted at the site for whom she blogs. I'm still gonna blog, despite the frightening statistics that Sues discusses . . .

Oh, sissie, you'll be OK, too.

Greetings, to those who are fallin' out of the Ivory Tower(s) soon . . . my condolences

Aaah, yes. Graduation is just around the corner. I don't mean to sound pessimistic, but this class of fresh, happy, jubilant grads is in for a dreadful wake-up call. And I'm not saying that in a condescending way. I'm saying that out of sympathy. The job market sucks, we're heading into a recession. But I'm not here to write about that. Well, I'll write about it vis-a-vis my own joblessness, but that's not what this blog, my . . . uh, magnum opus, is all about. It's gonna be, of course, about me, my life at a couple of Ivies, what it's like to go to Ivy League schools, rub elbows with the sons and daughters of senators or royalty, and then, . . . poof . . . I'll talk about my disappearance from that realm (I voluntarily exited). The tumbling, crashing, and falling are the highlights, I assure you. Even if it's by choice, it is painful. I still have bruises and big ol' cuts. They're ripe, festering, and the perfect material for a blog, right?


I'm C. Rhyder, a wondering, lonesome, social butterfly. Oh, and I'm a wanna-be-intellectual, too.

Oh, and check out collegecandy.com - yup. C. Ryder is my twin sister, and I think she's swell. She's a lot nicer than I am. I'm not mean, really. I mean, I did say that I'm a social butterfly, so that makes me friendly. Although I'm friendly, I'm jaded, and increasingly more cynical. So those personality traits make me pretty snarky, and, well downright bitchy (yes, that's worse than being snarky). Although I'm jaded and overly pessimistic, I'd really describe myself as an optimist. I mean, this first posting includes an adorable picture of a horse, drawn by a kiddie, so I ain't that cynical. I'm young, only 25-ish, and that helps me stave off cynicism, at least for the moment.

But leaving the Ivory Tower is TOUGH, people. I'm not whining about it, as I'm sure a Gawker.com writer would claim. I'm not complainin' at all. I mean, I'm glad I left, but I also miss all the books, discussions about books, ordering books, reading books, and going about that pattern over and over and over again. Books are swell.

So, where has the Ivory Tower exodus led me? Well, let's see . . .

Oh, and Goethe's Faust is gonna be put to shame, too.