When people ask me what my day job is, I offer the disparaging reply, "I put paper in a drawer." While snarky, this is also the truth. I take papers and I put them in drawers, and if a properly labelled folder does not exist for a certain piece of paper, I'll go ahead and produce one. Then I can put that piece of paper into its rightful drawer.

I understand the necessity of "paying one's dues" when one is young; the possibility of instantly vaulting into a position of any prestige is negligible. My friends file papers and wait tables, they take drink orders and cut checks. They debug computers for people who are paid more than them. They play guitar at clubs on the weekends, rehearse their devised shows until 1 AM, write in notebooks bits and pieces of great American novels on trains between jobs. Sometimes we meet. We ask what everyone is working on, and these little bits and pieces are summarized and discussed, and we try not to mention these other jobs that pay the bills, because none of us can quite believe that we are move valuable as paper-pushers than as thinkers, artists, and creators.

December 9th is my last day here, and my first day ever being paid to direct, even if I am only the assistant. I will get to sit at a table with an incredibly accomplished, brilliant director and an amazingly vibrant, talented writer. Seated in the room will be a cast of dynamic performers, and together we will create a show that is based upon ancient myth and performed with modern flair. Jokes will be cracked. Coffee consumed. Tempers will flare. A show will open. There will be press there, and champagne, and congratulations, and, yes, I will have to look for a new job.

But I offer an early toast: to our papers, may they never be hidden in drawers.

Six more weeks.

I think I can I think I can I think I can.

My roommate (identified on the internets by the name "Blackey Fontaine") recently linked to this list of the 100 Best English Language Novels from 1923 to the Present (here's his take on TurboAwesome.com). I thought I would get in on the listing action. I'm not going to do hyperlinks with all of these books because it would take far too much effort.

Read

Atonement (Ian McEwan)
This book is so well written it's actually surprising. I read this over the summer, picking it up *completely* at random from the shelf at the Borders in Arcadia, CA, because we were leaving on vacation and I didn't want to be stuck in the mountains without reading material. Holy Jeez, did I guess right. I do actually have a little problem with this book, but I'm not talking to you about it until after you've read it. And you should. You should read it. Seriously.

Catch-22 (Joseph Heller)
One of my all-time favorites. Used to be definite top 3, not I've read a hell of a lot more books. Still quite possibly the funniest book I've ever read in my life, and incredibly upsetting as well. Purchased the sequel ("Closing Time") and returned it to the bookstore 20 minutes later without having cracked the front cover. Don't care what Heller thinks happened after the book was over.

The Catcher in the Rye (J.D. Salinger)
Read in one sitting during the middle of the night my sophomore year of high school. It's the perfect (and maybe only) way to really read this book. My guess is that if you're older than 16 when you read this for the first time, it won't have the same effect.

The Corrections (Franzen)
Excellent novel. Not much to say. Was on Oprah's Bookclub but don't let that dissuade you.

The Grapes of Wrath* (Steinbeck)
Another one of my all-time favorites. Especially good because it's the origin of the phrase "getting kicked in the neck," which I've used more times in the past six years than maybe any other phrase. Certain sections of this book gave me the most visceral reactions I've ever had to literature. I swear I could *smell* this book sometimes. And in a good way.

Infinite Jest (D.F. Wallace)
Probably my all-time favorite novel. It's like getting kicked in the head for 1100 pages and laughing about it the whole time.

The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe* (Lewis)
Enjoyed this book when I was very young, don't think I'd enjoy it as much now since I'd be upset by the transparency of the Christ metaphor, will definitely see the new-jack CGI film because it looks astonishingly beautiful. Also, this is not the best book in the Chronicles of Narnia (The Last Battle, anyone? The Voyage of the Dawn Treader?)

Neuromancer (Gibson)
Wow! Cyberpunk on a Time magazine list! Well done, sirs!

Slaughterhouse-Five (Vonnegut)
Not the best Vonnegut (Mother Night, in my opinion) nor my personal favorite (Cat's Cradle), but still remains one of the most distressing, poignant, laugh-out-loud-then-smack-yourself-for-laughing books ever written. Highest recommendation.

Snow Crash (Stephenson)
Ran into the author in the bookstore while purchasing this book. Was shocked. Enjoyed book very much (very similar to Neuromancer, methinks... the editors of this list know what they like). But this book has no business on this list if Cryptonomicon isn't on here; the latter is a far superior book (which is also in my top 3). For those of you keeping score at home, the top 3 is now Infinite Jest; Cryptonomicon; and The Broom of the System, giving D.F. Wallace two out of the top three. Congratulations.

The Sound and the Fury (Faulkner)
Mmm, top 5 list definitely (is anyone keeping track of what I'm calling top 5? (I am, no worries)). So marvelously well-written that if you're planning on ever writing anything maybe you shouldn't read this book because you'll think you should just get the hell out of the business.

To Kill a Mockingbird* (Lee)
The only book on this list that I also starred in a stage version of. Well, "starred" is a bit much, I guess... but I was in fifth grade and in a college production. Whatever. The kid playing Dill was a total jackball. Actually, come to think of it, I may not have ever actually read the book. Better move on.

The Watchmen (Moore)
Astoundingly good, though hasn't held up as well as it might have since everyone's jacked his shit for the last 20 years. The only graphic novel on the list. I would have also included Gaiman's Sandman (The Kindly Ones, if they need a specific collection).

White Noise (DeLillo)
I *HATED* this book. I can't even go into it sufficiently. I almost stopped reading it 47 times. Jesus H.

Started, never finished

A Clockwork Orange (Burgess)
Written in code. Wasn't into it.

GravityÂ?s Rainbow (Pynchon)
I'm a fan of dense books (see Infinite Jest, above) but this book was like trying to cut a desk with a plastic knife. Tried twice, failed twice, put it to rest.

Lord of the Flies (Golding)
Eh. I'll take "Lost" thank you.

The Lord of the Rings* (Tolkien)
The all-time leader in Dave's "What the hell do people find interesting about this?" bookclub. As my brother once noted "reads like notes from a bad D&D session." Full agreement. Movies kick-ass though. Thanks for editing out Tom Bombadil (for real?).

1984 (Orwell)
No idea why I stopped reading it. Probably should try again.

On the Road (Kerouac)
Eh.

Read something else by author

Death Comes for the Archbishop (Cather)
I read "My Antonia" which I think I remember not enjoying at the time, but which has stuck with me for like eight years. Probably has something to do with the fact that I read it in my sophomore honors English class, taught by Mrs. Marquardt, and I just wanted to jam a spoon into my ear every single day.

MidnightÂ?s Children (Rushdie)
I read "The Satanic Verses" which KICKS ASS. Required reading. Go to.

Money (Martin Amis)
I read "Time's Arrow" and "Night Train." The latter is well-written, but basically forgettable. The former will fuck with your mind so deeply you'll have trouble functioning afterward. No joke. The book takes place backwards (what?) so whenever you put it down, you'll have trouble figuring out if your life is happening in the right order.

The Sun Also Rises (Hemingway)
I like Hemingway. I plan to read more. (for the record, I've read "The Old Man and the Sea.")

Are You There God? ItÂ?s Me, Margaret (Blume)
A Judy Blume sighting? Wow. (who even knows how many of her books I've read)

The Bridge of San Luis Rey (Wilder)
Didn't even know he was a novelist; I've read his plays. So have you. He wrote "Our Town."

Seen the Movie
No comments here, since whatever. Also the asterisked ones above I've seen film versions of.

Gone With the Wind (Mitchell)
One Flew Over the CuckooÂ?s Nest (Kesey)
The Lord of the Rings (Tokien)

Seen the Broadway Musical
Ragtime (Doctorow)
The song from this show "The Night That Goldman Spoke at Union Square" fits so perfectly in my range that I feel like it was written for me. In related news, I need to start singing more.

This is maybe my favorite post of all-time.

It's raining cats & dogs outside, and my socks are wet. This bodes well for a pleasant day, I wager. But first, I wanted to find out why the x (where 'x' is a variable) the phrase "it's raining cats & dogs" went through my head, because I noticed that it doesn't make one darned bit of sense.

A search of the internets (all of them) reveals that nobody has any clue whatsoever. The reasons that are parroted over and over are these:

1) In Norse Mythology, cats represented wind and dogs represented rain.
2) Either the Greek word for waterfall "Catadupa" or the French word for waterfall "Catadoupe" was misheard as "catsanddogs" (huh?)
3) In the streets of ancient towns, floods would wash away dogs and cats and people mistakenly thought they came from the sky.

Let's debunk these in order, shall we?

1) I'm sort of a dork for Norse mythology, and this is the first time I've ever heard or read that cats & dogs represented certain weather patterns. In fact the *only* websites that mention this strange, previously unknown facet of the Norse belief system are those discussing the origins of "raining cats and dogs." Apparently, every single one of these sites steals from the others. I'm not saying it's impossible, I just think it's weird that no primary sources seem to have ever mentioned this fact before.

2) Not that Babelfish is like a beacon of everlasting wisdom, but the Greek word for waterfall is "???????????" which may be "catadoupe" but may also be "katappakins." And the French word for waterfall is "chut d'eau" so the phrase would have probably ended up being "man, it's raining judo out there!"

3) Have you ever seen a cat or a dog? It seems to me far more likely that our big, dumb, lumbering human bodies couldn't get out of the way of a rainfall (exhibits a & b: my socks) than it does that lots of cats sort of amiably allowed water to approach them. Seriously, try giving a cat a bath. Maybe there were loads of dead dogs and cats on the streets of ancient cities (this seems likely) and that floods would float these around, but this is taking like six steps of justification, and it just doesn't sit well with me.

Ah, so the investigation has yielded only unsatisfying and dubious answers. So barring further evidence, the reason we say "it's raining cats and dogs" is because other people said it, and it's just as likely that the first guy ever to say it was drunk, insane, or speaking gibberish. Next time, I recommend: "Yo dude, it's raining katappakins out there!" Maybe it'll catch on. Until then, stay dry.