Papercuts and Crosswords

Well oh man it’s 2013 and my blog didn’t even know it. Hey there, new year. Figured I should get one post in the books for January, so here I come screeching, in under the wire, tail ablaze. So much has happened I’m not even going to go into it.

I LIED. I am going to go into it. But FIRST, the thing that weighs most heavily on my mind–my propensity to acquire papercuts without my knowledge is growing wildly. Just now, I felt a twinge in my index finger, looked down, and there it was. A papercut. Now one of these on its own would not be so odd–I work in a literary agency where one of my main jobs is to read the slush pile (and oh the tales I could tell you…and might later, once I’m done working there) and thus I’m around paper a lot. A lot of emails, too, but you don’t get so many electronic cuts.* But in the past four days I have counted THREE papercuts, two of which are on the same index finger. And what’s the most worrying about that (besides my obvious clumsiness and/or unconscious literary masochist tendencies) is that I haven’t even noticed cutting myself. Usually a papercut is a sharp, noticeable thing. You get one and immediately have to suck on it, hoping you haven’t eaten anything citrusy recently. But not so me. Am I sleeping through my days? Deaf to my pain sensors? Or am I so in love with paper that I’m willing to forgive any little fault, even one that breaks the skin? You see: worrisome.

Also cause for concern is my recent obsession with crosswords. I’ve subscribed to the New York Times crossword section, which gives me unlimited access to the whole of their crossword archive. When I was home for Christmas, there were days when I was getting through five, six, eleven of these things a day. The sweet Florida sunshine beckoned and I said no, go away, vitamin D, for I am stuck on “Having only the foreleg showing, as a beast in heraldry” and “quark/antiquark pairs.” I’m starting to think in grid patterns and try to come up with pithy clues for everyday objects. For example, before I didn’t say “go away sun” but instead said “go away vitamin D.” I would not put it past Will Shortz to have a clue that simply read “Vitamin D” and the answer would be “sunlight.” Because he is a power-hungry man who will stop at nothing until I’m weeping under my desk, shouting “What’s a five-letter word for “heavyweight at the zoo, perhaps,”** and tearing out my “strands of growing epidermal.”

In real world news, I’m still in London and will be until the next season of Doctor Who starts. I don’t mean that as some kind of geeky protest–my visa expires on March 30th, which is also the day that the Doctor Who premier airs. But fear not, sweet Brits! For I shall return! I start studying at the University of Cambridge in the beginning of October, so will be back on these fair shores soon enough. In the interim, I am planning a plethora of precariousness. I was going to write adventure, but I do love me some alliteration. If all goes as it should, I shall be visiting Italy, Ireland, and roadtripping across the western US! AND MORE!*** I’m hoping on doing as many awesome things as possible and being the least stressed I can be before I start Cambridge, because that is some intimidating academia to face up to, guys.

Well, that wasn’t so hard. Hello, January! I’ll try to blog more often. We’ll see how that goes.


*What if, one day, we have holographs of emails that look like paper? Paper that you can hold? And then, potentially, get cut on it! But then I think it would be a lasercut instead of a papercut. They’d probably have to work those kinks out first, since ostensibly lasers can cut deeper than your average piece of A4.

**It’s hippo.

***I don’t actually know if it’ll be more.


2 thoughts on “Papercuts and Crosswords

  1. IRELAND! I also like everything else in this post but I like IRELAND the best. Doctor Who the second best. Crosswords the third best. Papercuts the last-best. xx

  2. Richard II. “This precious stone set in the silver sea,
    Which serves it in the office of a wall
    Or as a moat defensive to a house,
    Against the envy of less happier lands,
    This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

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