Back to blogging, without the drama.

I haven't written a blog since Napoleon Dynamite was quoted more than other words were spoken. Meaning, back in the days when Xanga was hot and I couldn't go a day without posting some fascinating blog about being in the public library or the Apple store with one of my friends. We were cool. At least, we thought we were. Also popular was bashing other people from anonymous identities and pretty much lowering everyone's self-esteem through degrading comments. This became really intolerable for me so I did something very simple that I hadn't considered--deleted the damn thing.
But now I've gotten pretty into the whole "blogosphere" again and I've found numerous pages that have really sucked me in as a reader. I love to write, so I sort of figured I should stop gawking at another man's genius and instead engender a receptacle for my thoughts. Now I'm kind of wondering if I could get vocabulary points from my English teacher for that last sentence. Lame, sorry, but this whole thing is a sort of stream-of-consciousness thing.
Anyway. After a very long time, I finally decided on a title. It honestly took me ages to come up with one, because I am that cool. I wanted something that described me and my situation without being too personal or narcissistic or overly dramatic. I am a Latin geek (pretty much anyone who studies the language is a geek for it; otherwise, they would be doing something else) so I read all the Latin phrases I could find on Wikipedia, and some of them were pretty cool. It was clear, however, that anything I chose from there would sound either pretentious or cheesy. I mean, everything sounds deep when you say it in Latin (ahem..."quidquid Latine dictum sit altum videtur"), which makes me feel too serious. I don't want to come off as terrible uptight or dull. Because if I am dull, I don't want it to be so immediately apparent that just the title of the whole blog gives it away. My other concern was being too wishy-washy, choosing something infinitely cheesy like "amor omnia vincit" which is "love conquers all." Not only do I not whole-heartedly believe that, it makes me sound like some fluffy hormonal teen. Again, I don't want to give myself away too soon.
I settled on "the Scone Age" for a pretty simple reason--my life revolves in part around my favorite coffee shop. I am there every day, either doing homework or just eating and drinking, my two favorite hobbies. I ought to mention that I work at this coffee shop, so I usually get my victuals for free--definitely a factor that shouldn't be overlooked, now that I think about it. The Oak Street Coffee Shop is known locally for its scones, which are easily the best in the city. Soft, sweet pillows of happy warmth that fill you up on a dismally gray morning? Magic! Without these little miracles, the Shop would not be as successful. I can speak of them like I might speak of babies because I bake them at least once a week. The rest of the weeks the owner makes the scones, from scratch first thing in the morning. The last few years of my life, these scones broke the ice in numerous situations. Everybody likes you when you give them something universally delicious, after all, and this little truth proved itself over and over when it came to solidifying friendships and drawing boys to me. The best part is telling a newbie they are eating a scone and watching the confusion then disbelief flash across his or her face. "But...Aren't scones those awful rock things with no flavor?" Yes, or at least they were. A good scone is a horse of a different color, my friends. I think this entry is long enough for the first one. Hopefully there will be more, but I'll take it one day at a time.