The “h” word.
So Fall semester starts in a week. However, I’m not quite yet done with Summer semester yet…hopefully this won’t turn into an issue/problem/oh crap moment. I’m crossing my fingers.
In other news, because I really, really, really don’t want to talk about classes etc., but I had to mention it a little because I’m a PhD student and they’re never that far from my mind unless I’m in a state in which I’ve forgotten my name, and even then not so much, Matt and I were in Preston yesterday for a jump rope thing at the Franklin county fair. Preston, Idaho is the home of Napoleon Dynamite, in case you were wondering why it seemed familiar. It’s in Cache Valley, which really means that the movie Napoleon Dynamite is like a movie about Logan, but with less religious overtones. Or maybe those are undertones. Or maybe it’s a religious dynamic. Or a suffocating culture of religiousity that forbids the showing of thy cleavage. Whichever. Either way, the movie really doesn’t have a religious (cough Mormon cough) factor and it probably should if it’s gonna accurately reflect life in the valley. Not that I’m bitter. Just annoyed.
Anyways, so we were in Preston and I discovered what an odd little town it is. There was a lot of fun people-watching to be had–a real mix of little hoochie-mamas (I saw a five-year-oldish girl in a hot pink miniskirt. I was actually a little impressed.) to old ladies who thought rollers were a fashion statement. Or maybe they just forgot to finish the hairstyling. It happens. Also, a lot of people Matt would call (or maybe did call…) hicks. However, I reminded him that hicks are everywhere. In fact, there’s a chance we’re descendants of hicks. And they’re probably nice people. I mean, they keep the tractor market going, and they sell us food from stands on the side of the highway. Valuable members of society. They only kind of scare me when they look at me with one eye and skin that appears leather-like. However, being a “hick” is a lifestyle choice and I respect that.