There are days when I've had it up to HERE with punctuation. Commas are the worst. Sometimes I get so sick of worrying about when and where I should add them. It doesn't matter if I'm writing a two line email or content for a brochure at work, I always have questions. And, I spend a ridiculous amount of time and energy googling for grammar rules, because I want to get it right so, frankly, I look smart. I want people to think to themselves (and say to others), "That girl is a great writer. Her punctuation rocks!" Side note: Yes, I know I get it wrong here a lot, but most of my posts are written late at night when I'm too tired to lift my finger to hit the search button on Google. You get to see the truth.

Of course, there is also a part of me that thinks there is something really irritatingly uptight about a grammatically correct sentence that is all comma-y. Don't you think? I get resentful and have the urge to rebel. It seems nitpicky and self-conscious to have them all over the place, especially when it's just to follow stupid old rules. I don't know. It's not like I'm longing to become an E.E. Cummings or anything (his method was about artistic style while mine could only be called lazy), but I feel something has to be done, and I can't see a middle ground. It's all or nothing, as spotty punctuation just looks sloppy.

Since I'm in the middle of a good rant, I'll take this opportunity to point out that in the interviews of musicians I've read lately, Seattle musicians in particular, I'm bugged by the subtle intellectual pissing contests going on between the journalists and the artists. In particular, someone always has to toss in and discuss a quote or theory by a philosopher, writer, historian, etc., and usually it's the journalist who starts it. I don't know if there is a competitive vibe that's sparked when an interviewer is going to meet with a perceived smartie, or if this is a perfectly normal way of talking for these people, but it has a very pretentious, I'll-show-you-how-much-I-know feeling. Maybe journalists think readers will be grateful if they steer clear of questioning Mr. Rock Star about his favorite breakfast cereal, but it gets on my nerves. In my mind, it's a primary symptom of Taking Ourselves Too Seriously syndrome.

I think another problem is that I'm just not quotey. I may like writing down quotes that appeal to me and reading them occassionally, but I never bust out with a line by Edna St. Vincent Millay during conversation. This is another reason to add to the list of reasons of why I'm glad I'm not famous, right under not liking to have my pic taken. If an interviewer launched into a question with "As the famous philosopher blah, blah, blah (see, I can't even think of anyone) said...What does this say about your work?" I'd have to flash him/her a "What the hell?!?" look and respond with my own gangsta "yeeaah!" and where would that get me? Sayonara, fame.

In other news, the saga continues with the rodents--roof rats, I learned--who have taken up residence in the walls of the house. Thank God they aren't inside yet. I reported the scritchy-scratchy noise disturbances to the owner a couple of weeks ago, and she assured me that pest control had already visited, set traps, and the problem should be resolved soon. Also, she told me that roof rats look more like gerbils than regular rats, as if this is somehow comforting. A rat is a rat in my book.

At 3am last night, I woke up to very loud thumping, scratching, and even little animal squeaking coming through the walls. Instead of dying a horrible death by poison, I think the rats have settled into their new wall home and are now giving birth to a slew of baby rats to create a mini-city. Argh! It riles up Kitty, and I end up pounding on the wall with my fist while yelling shut up. The cycle continues until the rats settle down or head out to party, and I can finally fall asleep again. Orkin ain't workin!

In the words of the famous Gnarls Barkley, "'Why is this my life?' is almost everybody's question."

Quotes within quotes! I can't deal.