Am I? I'm Not . . . am I?

A month or two ago, I asked my library to purchase Star Trek: The Annimated Series. I didn't think they would--they have this nasty habit of writing nasty notes about my purchase requests, and they'd already rejected my request for seasons three through seven of Star Trek: The Next Generation (they already have seasons one and two, which aren't that great).

They bought it. It came in one week ago. I picked it up. Since then, I've been plagued by them. They are really neat. I keep watching bits of them in my spare time, which I don't have. I keep putting off grading, class prep., personal hygiene, et cetera so that I can watch them.

I suppose I have become a Trekkie. Yay.

You should, by the way, get your library to buy these. There are twenty-two episodes with the voices of most of the original cast. Poor Checkov got left out for some reason, though he did write one episode.

They're perfect. They're lovely. I'm going to show them to the kids, though Amanda is probably going to kill me. I'll wait until she's napping! Hee, hee.

A giddy Trekkie who is not entirely embarrassed . . . or entirely comfortable . . . with that label,

ds

Blogfectionism

The difficulty is finding the time. No, it's finding the time and finding the thoughts. No. It's finding the time, finding the thoughts, overcoming the fear, writing it out, and posting it. But, in all that, the difficulty is perfectionism. Less perfection (but not a ton less) and more composition. That's it.

ds