Catherine Alis Buckius
All the women who are independent
Throw your hands up at me
All the honeys who makin' money
Throw your hands up at me
All the mamas who profit dollas
Throw your hands up at me
All the ladies who truly feel me
Throw your hands up at me
--Destiny's Child, "Independent Women, Pt. 1"
Catie Buckius should have been one of Charlie's Angels. She's confident, intelligent, and beautiful. I could definitely see her kicking some ass, too. And she likes to have fun, like any girl should. She defines the independent woman.
Catie has one little flaw, however. She loves life, perhaps too much. Because of her lust for life, she tends to put off her work until the last minute. In the end, it doesn't hurt her much because when she does her work, she does it well. But as anyone who's ever gone to school, ever, knows all too well, procrastination is ultimately counterproductive. You spend a bunch of time dreading writing an essay, when if you'd started that essay right away it would probably be done 10 times faster.
Yet this flaw is an endearing one. It's been said that you like people for their good qualities, but love them for their bad ones. Besides, how can you not love Catie? She might be demanding, but that demand is very motivational. I might not have this blog if she didn't beg me to write every week so I could feed her procrastination habit.
I don't know if Catie's a big poetry fan, but hopefully she'll like this poem:
Catie Buckius, you're my friend--
The kind of girl I'd soon bend
Over backwards for; it's true.
Catie, I'm your Montague.
You're oft bouncing off the walls,
Humoring my drunk phone calls.
You don't know what comes beyond
School, but some man you'll make fond.
You've got talent that won't go
To waste; what you set out to
Do will suit you perfectly.
I can't rhyme with perfectly.
Just like that rhyme I can't find,
You're a rarity. The kind
Of girl with your charm may be
A treasure. That's jazz, baby.
Only the coolest girls get songs written about them. Catie, how your angels get down like that?
Throw your hands up at me
All the honeys who makin' money
Throw your hands up at me
All the mamas who profit dollas
Throw your hands up at me
All the ladies who truly feel me
Throw your hands up at me
--Destiny's Child, "Independent Women, Pt. 1"
Catie Buckius should have been one of Charlie's Angels. She's confident, intelligent, and beautiful. I could definitely see her kicking some ass, too. And she likes to have fun, like any girl should. She defines the independent woman.
Catie has one little flaw, however. She loves life, perhaps too much. Because of her lust for life, she tends to put off her work until the last minute. In the end, it doesn't hurt her much because when she does her work, she does it well. But as anyone who's ever gone to school, ever, knows all too well, procrastination is ultimately counterproductive. You spend a bunch of time dreading writing an essay, when if you'd started that essay right away it would probably be done 10 times faster.
Yet this flaw is an endearing one. It's been said that you like people for their good qualities, but love them for their bad ones. Besides, how can you not love Catie? She might be demanding, but that demand is very motivational. I might not have this blog if she didn't beg me to write every week so I could feed her procrastination habit.
I don't know if Catie's a big poetry fan, but hopefully she'll like this poem:
Catie Buckius, you're my friend--
The kind of girl I'd soon bend
Over backwards for; it's true.
Catie, I'm your Montague.
You're oft bouncing off the walls,
Humoring my drunk phone calls.
You don't know what comes beyond
School, but some man you'll make fond.
You've got talent that won't go
To waste; what you set out to
Do will suit you perfectly.
I can't rhyme with perfectly.
Just like that rhyme I can't find,
You're a rarity. The kind
Of girl with your charm may be
A treasure. That's jazz, baby.
Only the coolest girls get songs written about them. Catie, how your angels get down like that?
posted by Kevin A. Doran at 10:58 PM
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