My darling Jedediah…

My darling Jedediah explains Hugos and voting and such better than I can. Go read about it.

Now you might be thinking, "'s after 12, wasn't she supposed to be on campus working on her Renaissance paper? Buried in details of ancient maps and wide oceans and barren shores? And instead she's goofing around on the net." Well, I should explain that I am, in fact, in the library, working on my laptop, on my paper, but took a brief break to say hi. And can I tell you how much I love the fact that I can bring my laptop in, walk right past all the people waiting for free computers (because it's the end of the semester and everyone's writing papers) and go to the back of the room, where there's a practically empty two rows of desks with laptop connections, and plug in my little baby and go cruising along? I adore it. Huzzah for the headlong rush of technology (and for those of us riding the cresting wave :-)!

Okay, the cresting wave is probably actually way ahead of me, but at least I'm still coasting along on my surfboard, as opposed to all those people behind me, some barely paddling, some drowning, a few swimming in the wrong direction -- and, of course, some adamantly standing on shore insisting that they're not getting sunburned and the ocean's too salty and they don't like water anyway, so there. 'Cause it's too wet.

(Like the way I brought it back to oceans and shores there? That's clever use of metaphor, that is. That's why they call me a writer. :-)

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