I am alone in this house for a beautiful, blissful week of quiet and clean. During this week, the kitchen is spotless and the sink is empty the entire time.

My two housemates have been back for less than twelve hours. Since their return, the kitchen is now a mess and the sink is now full of dirty dishes.

This is not awesome.

A professor defends fanfiction.

Most of the history of Western literature (and probably much of non-Western literature, but I can’t speak to that) is adapted or appropriated from something else. Homer wrote historyfic and Virgil wrote Homerfic and Dante wrote Virgilfic (where he makes himself a character and writes himself hanging out with Homer and Virgil and they’re like “OMG Dante you’re so cool.” He was the original Gary Stu).

I giggled lots.

The thing that was most interesting to me was the fact that praising originality and dismissing all else is a modern concept -- I had never put the pieces together from "ontological argument" to "collective unconscious" to "holy shit you wrote a story about the heroic journey of sharks, I WROTE A STORY ABOUT THE HEROIC JOURNEY OF SHARKS!" Suddenly having horrible flashbacks to high school English and how I read The Lottery at least three different times.

I wonder why the chain stops with Virgilfic. Did no one want to hang out with Dante, hanging out with Virgil and Homer?