Father Joseph's untimely death has reminded me to live happy. So why not dream big, and set down a resolution for making decisions with less angst this year? I just fought another battle in deciding which class to take for the next 2.5 weeks. After advice from my various life coaches (thank you, BC, Joiner, and Double M!), I settled on a "Law and -" class. If it starts with "Law and," you know it's law school lite. Law and Psychiatry, Law and Literature, Law and Society -- you're sittin' pretty. I went a couple rounds, since the employment class I thought about taking was very small (8 students the first day, and undoubtedly fewer today) and it would have been a great opportunity to get to know a professor, as well as a welcome break from the 40- to 150-person classes I have taken so far, but after I said to BC, "The law-and- class is more fun," and she said immediately, "Then take it!" I thought, "Okay! Let it be fun!"

Isn't it awful how you can twist even someone's death into a story all about yourself?

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I brought two books with me to Seattle: Jane Eyre and Pride and Prejudice, and enjoyed re-reading those classics more than I thought I would, especially the former, which I first read (and probably have not read since!) in high school. I'm very fond of Jasper Fforde's The Eyre Affair, which plays on Jane Eyre with a very affectionate and respectful touch, and so several weeks ago, I thought I'd read the inspiration for his novel again. I'm much more amused and touched by the story than I was in my younger incarnation, when I thought it was rather silly. I still get impatient with Rochester's infuriating method of wooing Jane (by pretending to be engaged to Blanche Ingram? Please!), and I'm more than ever annoyed by St. John's hypocritical and decidedly un-Christian rigidity and lack of compassion for humanity, but I must admit to being tickled by passages such as this, when Rochester gives Jane ten pounds for her journey to see her dying aunt:

"Give me back nine pounds, Jane; I've a use for it."

"And so have I, sir," I returned, putting my hands and my purse behind me. "I could not spare the money on any account."

"Little niggard!" said he, "refusing me a pecuniary request! Give me five pounds, Jane."

"Not five shillings, sir; nor five pence."

"Just let me look at the cash."

"No, sir; you are not to be trusted."

Hee! Aw. Cute. And precisely in tune with romances of every age.

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I have one other resolution this year, and that is to get into shape by the time I turn 30, a little under 3 months from now. I tried on a skirt last month that I hadn't worn in 2 years or so, and was dismayed to find that I could not zip it up, whereas before it had hung rather loose on me. I blame the free firm dinners this term, as well as lack of exercise, a changing metabolism, a sedentary student lifestyle, and, oh... global warming. Or something.

In any case, I resolve I shall lose this detestable (but adorable?) Buddha/beer belly I've developed, by March 23, and whittle myself down to my fighting weight. To this end, I've gone to the gym faithfully these past three days. The past two I've been using the elliptical trainer, but that machine lies like mad. Seriously! I went on it for 30 minutes today, and worked up a good sweat, but there is no way I burned 300 calories in half an hour like the machine said. That's like, twice what I burn on a treadmill while running, and running takes more energy than the elliptical. Ooo, I just hate lies.

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And finally, after SIX emails on the subject, Not-Gay Boyfriend and I are scheduled to have dinner on Monday evening. It is so NOT a date. For one, he suggested lunch. Then, when we had a conflict on Friday, he suggested Monday lunch. Which -- there are EIGHT other meals and countless small repasts between Friday lunch and Monday lunch, kiddo! As BC and Double M pointed out, why not go hog crazy and do brunch? Or get really wild and do coffee? NO. IT MUST BE WITHIN BUSINESS HOURS. And then, when Monday lunch didn't work out? Monday dinner. At 5:30.

What is this unyielding penchant for business-hour meals?

All right, so... whatever. It's not a date. It's... a getting-to-know-you. FINE. BE THAT WAY.

Humph.