Missed Connections

We took the same Mexican Folk Music course, I always sat next to or behind you. You thought I looked like someone from your high school, I thought you looked cute. We talked to each other each class, but I never learned your name; your left hand is like a lobster claw and you always kept it in your pocket when walking around. We should have been friends.

Dichotomy

Have I ever told you about the poodles?

The metaphorical, but also actual, poodles?

No? Yes? Well, I'll tell you again and then you can decide if you've already heard my thoughts on these poodles.

There are these two poodles that live near the university, where I work. Often, when I am on my way to work, or also on my way home from work, I see these two poodles. One of them is black and the other is white, like if they were standing facing one another it would look like some strange negative reflection of a poodle. They often are standing facing one another, because they seem to be big fans of playing tug of war with each other. They also fight every once in a while.

It's like a daily reminder of the struggle between good and evil.

Which reminds me! Speaking of opposites, and good and evil and such, so, two things that are opposites are two things whose attributes oppose one another, right? Like up and down, or in and out. Since they oppose one another, surely one must be inherently good and the other must be inherently evil, right?

Here's my logic: let's take up and down. Say we could talk to God, and ask Him which He would choose out of those two. Then let's say He chose up. And anything God chooses must be good, right? So wouldn't down, being the exact opposite of up (which is good), necessarily be evil? I'm not talking about how in a particular situation one might be good and the other evil, but in general. Like, overall, which one is good and which is evil. In which case, is it possible that good and evil are really just based on God's personal opinion? Like, what if He just likes walking up stairs and not down stairs?

But then again, aren't good and evil based on what God tells us they are anyway?

He Knows Me!

toothpastefordinner.com

Park time

Sitting on a grassy knoll today after work, reading (how spoiled am I? Spoiled enough to stop at the park on my way home and read for an hour, that's how spoiled), a woman and her two daughters play and frolic near me.

They've found a lizard, and the girls seem to be taking turns holding it and shoving it in their good-natured and even playful mother's face. They're all laughing, then suddenly shrieks of panicked giggling break out. Mom is standing up, dancing in place, feeling around in her skorts: "I can't feel him anywhere! Where could he have gone?! Do you see him? He must have run away, right?" Right after this hopeful question she got her answer, as a little greyish-brown streak ran down her leg and was caught by the older daughter.

"I think it's time to go home, now."

Winning Spam Subject Lines

Paris Hilton Lectures on Dickens and Dostoyevsky : what sick and twisted mind came up with that? Was it some sort of childish play on words that went horribly wrong?

Britney Spears: Picking her nose! : I can see a four-year-old kid thinking that must be the funniest joke on the planet.

Christmas Replica Watches: the perfect timepiece for... August. And what aspect of Christmas is replicated by these watches? Is the wristband chilly? Does it smell like pie? Is there a little bow on top?

Angelina's Newborn Twins Marry Each Other: riiiiiiiiiiight.

Another Lunchtime Guilt Trip

Today I thought I'd get a nice bagel sandwich and eat it out on the bench where I usually eat my sandwiches. Simple, innocuous kind of lunch, I thought.

I thought wrong. As I began to eat, I noticed a tiny bird standing by my foot. Feeling generous, I tossed a little bagel crumb to it. The crumb had barely even left my hand when 27 (not an exaggerated number- I counted them) more birds converged from every direction, all staring at me expectantly. Sheesh.

So then I decided not to throw any more crumbs at all, so they would go away. Right? Wrong. They just sat there, looking at me eating my sandwich, collectively not moving a muscle.

"I know! I'll just throw a whole bunch of crumbs, so many of them will get something, and I'll stay entertained!"

After awhile of these shenanigans, with a horde of birds surrounding me, I heard one bird chirping in a painful way, louder and more continuously than the rest. I must've been throwing the crumbs too fast and too chaotically, because one bird had chomped down on another's little toes in the confusion, and wouldn't let go for the world. The poor victim couldn't do anything but try to hop away on one foot and scream his little brains out while the other bird held on tighter and pulled back. Frantically, I waved at the birds and scared them enough that the overeager one let go his hold and hopped away.

By this point I had one bite left of my sandwich, which I ate in a hurry so as to get away from the scene of destruction and disharmony I had just created. As I sheepishly chewed, some guy walked by, too close to me for the birds to remain. They scattered, and he said apologetically, "I'm sorry- I just ruined all your birds."

But I think that I had already done that.

Who am I?

I just don't even know anymore. Today has been a day of sudden introspection, and I don't like introspection. In fact, I may say that I generally avoid metacognition as much as possible.

In the past 24 hours, I have:

a) been called "hot" while wearing my new jeans. Perhaps I should take them back?

b) had a second dream where I was being charged a lot of money for not much food. In the first one I had to be somewhere in a short amount of time, and the expensive food was taking hours to be made. Last night, I was walking down a street in the dark, and stopped into a cool-looking cafe. Upon receiving the chocolate shake I ordered, I was told that it cost ten dollars. I paid, because I didn't know what else to do (the shake was good), and then the owner handed me a grocery bag full of meat. Like, a bunch of packages of bacon and brats and kielbasa. I feel like these two dreams mean something, I even have an idea of what they mean, but come on! Expensive food dreams? My subconcious is weird.

c) had a conversation that made me question who I am. I thought I knew, but I guess I was wrong. Am I a jerk? Am I selfish? Am I maybe more shallow than I thought I was?


Sheesh, all the important things I thought I knew about myself are being challenged all at once. Maybe now is the time to move to Oregon and live on the coast as a hermit.

News of the Jews, and Happy Birthday to Me!

Walking to the car after work, Richard nods toward the lanky, Cobain-haired guy in yarmulke and prayer shawl strolling our way. He seems puzzled about the fringe coming out of the bottom of the guy's shirt.

Not sure if he saw the yarmulke, and hoping he won't say anything embarrassing out loud, I give him a preemptive whisper, "he's Jewish," and wait till we're out of earshot to explain. I hate it when I see people talking about me and pretending they're not; I couldn't care less if they badmouthed me in my absence, and even saying rude things to my face is better than pretending I'm not there at all. Once we are safely far away, I begin to explain about the knots in the fringe on the four corners of the shawl and how they have special significance, and how suddenly I have no idea what that significance is anymore. I used to be intelligent, really I did. Anyway, in case you don't know, there is a special significance to the knots in the tassels. Now you know.

In other news, I just realized this week that our next door neighbors, the ones with the big slobbery dog and the blanket tacked over their window so the dog won't bark at passersby? They're totally Jewish. I don't know how I missed it for the however-many months we've been living next to them, but they've got a nice little mezuzah on their doorpost. I told my roommate in excitement as soon as I noticed it.

"Really? A mezuzah? That's great! I love the Jews!"

"I know!"

We'd taken some online prejudice test a year or two ago, in which it was revealed, I believe, that I have a slight preference for black people, and she has a stronger-than-mine preference for Jews. Anyway, hooray for us, I guess.

In other news, I turned another year older a few days ago, and got to celebrate by eating mounds of (delicious) Ethiopian food with my parents, sister, and grandpa and his wife.

We also celebrated with three separate cakes: one very Richardy ice cream sandwich cake for work, one lucious fake Macaroni Grill lemon dream cake from my excellent mother, and one surprise (there's already a cake in the fridge) chocolate cake by my cooking experimenty roommate, who thankfully didn't put any flax or oatmeal into it, but did put lots of cocoa and cream and other lipsmacking ingredients. There was so much cake that I was forced to (sadly) send the remainder of the lemon cake home with my sister, and keep the chocolate cake for Sunday night when we had a smaller, impromptu birthday party with a couple of friends and lots of pictures and talking till deep into the night.

I'm still trying to recover from the past few weeks; with all the vacationing and celebrating and dinner-eating and movie-watching I've done recently, I haven't had a moment to hang up any laundry or go grocery shopping or, you know, sleep. My bedroom currently is beginning to look like my bedroom circa my early high school years, which will have to be fixed pronto, as my roommate will be returning from her hometown in the next couple of weeks after a summer-long absence which spoiled me greatly. Shoot, I'll have to clear off half the bookshelves and shove all my clothes back into one side of the closet again.

Back to real life

Wow, it really has been awhile since I've had the time and energy to think about my site. Sorry guys, if there's anyone even still here.

I spent the past week in heaven, which also goes by the name of British Columbia. Super, natural British Columbia, as their signs announce. It's a shame I never took a picture of one of those signs so I could photoshop it to say Supernatural British Columbia, which would have been awesome.

So after a grueling journey home which involved delayed flights, lost luggage, and a ride in the dumpstermobile, I got home last night and didn't really get out of bed until this afternoon. Also, I have this thing with my fingernails? Where if I have nothing else to do I just start picking and picking and soon they're all gone? So with the eight(?)-ish hours in the airport before getting on to our first flight, I'm typing this up kind of painfully on my poor little denuded fingertips. Maybe I should start wearing mittens all the time.

Anyway, back to real life, I got to catch up with my roommates and some friends tonight while eating a messy-but-made-by-me tortilla (the best of all omelets) and playing Scrabble, where we all learned that my roommate "has a niiiice cushion." It's good to be home.

Dang.

I keep writing things that end up being too personal to publish. Like what I wrote just now? It totally helped me understand myself better and work some things out in my mind (one of my few bursts of meta-cognition!), but there is no way on earth I'm putting those thoughts out there for the whole world to see.

So again, I'm forced to leave you with something uninsightful and dashed-off.

Here we go: I like this band (alright, so I don't even know if I like the band or not. I've listened to two songs by them, and I liked those two songs so much that I just played them over and over and over like probably 30 times since last night). But doesn't the guy in the video look like Elvis? No really, please go take a look and let me know if he looks like the King. Because I feel like maybe I'm going a little crazy?

Defining Moments

Awhile back one of our high school student workers turned 15. Coming from a good Mexican family, she invited us all to her Quinceanera.

My coworker and friend, let's just call him Richard, has never heard of this word before (not surprising, since he is equally unfamiliar with a lot of English words such as pithy, glib, and astute), and after learning the correct pronunciation, goes on to ask what the heck it is. The young lady in question didn't seem to be entirely clear about the deeper meanings of the occasion, only that it's a big fancy birthday party for when you turn 15.

With some interjections from our boss, Richard learns that it's a kind of "becoming a woman" type of celebration. This apparently latches onto his brain, because the next day, he shouts to me from his office a few feet away,

"When did *you* become a woman, ViolaSaint?"

There's an awkward pause for a moment while I try to figure out a diplomatic answer to this question. I finally say that I can't remember the exact day. My officemate, an older lady, lets loose with a loud cackle.

"That's not the type of question you ask people!" And then, a moment later, "When did you become a man?"

And this is where a typed-out narrative of the conversation really is lacking, because you miss the comic timing of the whole thing, but Richard pauses, and we can tell he's thinking.

"Fifteen!"

...

My officemate and I look at each other.

...

" 's when I started to shave."

No longer a post about my deepest regrets

Alright, so I had written out about three quarters of a post on events from my life that fill me with regret. Then I realized two things- first, that many of these events are food-related and from the first six years of life or so, and second, that the few that don't fall into that first category, I'm not sure if I really want to spill my guts that much. These aren't terrible secrets, but they still have a pretty strong impact on my emotions when I think about them (as do those food-related ones. Oh Penguin's frozen yogurt, why did you have to fall to the ground before I could enjoy you?).

So that you won't be left hanging for fascinating insight into my life, though, here are a couple of tidbits:

The one roommate who really holds our apartment together is gone on a three-week journey, and in her absence thus far (about a week) the dishes have only been done twice, the vaccuum sat in the middle of the living room for two full days before being put back where it belongs, and my bedroom has become a filthy pigsty of a place. Her influence on me must be considerable, since it's not like she goes into my bedroom all that much or says anything about the care I take of it.

I went to the local indie theatre last night with a friend of mine to see the Goonies. That's right, we paid money to see it, and I must say, that is the screamingest movie that the eighties ever produced. Fortunately, we got to see it in the theatre with the couches in it, so we were at least comfortable while the characters yelled at each other for 114 minutes straight.

My roommate is currently standing in the kitchen, whistling "Deck the Halls" and microwaving a washcloth full of vinegar.

I guess that pretty much sums up my life at the moment. Any donations made to help me get over my frozen yogurt regret would be greatly appreciated. There is, fortunately, a Penguin's nearby to help me deal with my childhood trauma.

Open Question

Which is worse:

a) Throwing away frozen yogurt that you paid good money for just because it kind of tastes like dirt, or

b) Eating a big thing of frozen yogurt that tastes like dirt, just because you paid good money for it?


On a related note, is there something about chocolate cherry frozen yogurt that just tastes like dirt all the time? Because that's the second time that's happened to me, from two different establishments.

Property Recall

When we were young, my sister and I believed that clowns would sneak into our house at night and steal socks out of the drier. The clowns would then sneak back to their circus tents and use the socks as powder puffs to apply their outrageous makeup. That really seemed to be the best explanation of why we so often could only find one sock when getting ready for school in the morning.

What I really want to do today is share a photo essay of all the cool things I saw yesterday at the Summer Solstice festival- the stiltwalkers, the musicians, the fire-dancers. Unfortunately for both of us (me, and you, the internet in general) my camera-to-computer cord has gone missing. I suspect various roommates for various reasons.

Maybe the one who went to her hometown for the summer accidentally packed it up with all of her stuff? Maybe the roommate that goes on wild cleaning sprees where afterward she doesn't even remember what she did? I have no reason to suspect the final roommate, but I will anyway so she doesn't feel left out.

I hope to either find the cord or buy a new one soon, as my plan for the summer is to take more pictures again. While I'm looking for the cord maybe I will find my banjo chord book, which has also been missing for a few months now.

Anybody have any suggestions on where to look for these things? I've already looked under the couch and on all of my shelves, so I'm pretty sure neither object is in those places.

Small triumphs of the day

For the first time in at least five months, I woke up before my alarm went off, stayed awake, and felt good. Like maybe I had rested in the hours I was unconcious.

I went to the grocery store after work so that I would be prepared to make dinner tomorrow night. I got myself a little pint of chocolate milk to make up for the utter disappointment that was the homemade chocolate milk yesterday evening.

In a fit of temporary insanity, I followed my roommate into the gym this evening, and sweated up a storm while reading the Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe for an entire 50 minutes. Book + bicycle= awesome.

I managed not to murder various people I came in contact with today, although I was tempted to. Why are there so many jerks and morons in the world?

In which I realize that my footwear is inadequate

The other day on my way downstairs to get in my car and drive to the office (ugh, that feels so... manly. How was your day at the office, dear?), I saw this guy, wearing the spikey shoes and holding the cool tree-hugging strap, making his way down the palm he had just pruned. I had to drive my meek little Civic cautiously around his big green truck that was parked in the lot. His big green truck with a cherrypicker.

Man, I wish I was that guy.

Or how about the UPS man? Ever since I was a young girl I've had this dream of being the UPS man when I grow up. Something about wearing that neat brown uniform, driving the big brown truck, bringing joy to lots of people, just is so appealing.

I've also had vague dreams about working in a bakery, making bread and decorating cakes and making delicious things for people to enjoy with their friends and family.

I don't want to seem like I don't appreciate the nice job I have, the salary that is more than I need for the lifestyle I live, my coworkers who are entertaining and pleasant to work with. I just feel like somehow, I'm not working hard enough for my keep. I want some sort of employment that I can actually say what I've done- I trimmed 15 trees, I delivered 65 packages, I fed hundreds of people today. Instead, I guess all I can really say about my work is the hours I was there, sitting at my desk, doing stuff. I got there at 8 in the morning. I took an hour for lunch, where I ate for about 7 minutes, read my book or napped outside for 45 minutes, then checked my email for 8 minutes. I turned my computer off at 5 o'clock and walked out the door at 5:01.

Wow, that really wasn't meant to turn out so depressing. I just wanted to tell you about the guy with the spikey shoes, wouldn't it be cool to be him?

Cake, part III

I know it seems like all I talk about lately is cake. Which is true because all I really do that is interesting is make cakes. I seem to have been made the official Birthday Cake Baker at work, and summer is going to be pretty busy. Last night I made a funfetti cake, but only because that particular kind was requested. Otherwise I would have definately made my own from scratch, as those are easier to make delicious and interesting.

To make this box cake interesting I made it a two-layer deal with vanilla pudding between the layers, and orange frosting with a dark-orange spiderweb-like icing creation on the top. Basically I wanted to mask the true nature of the cake. And it worked! When my coworker first saw me holding the cake plate he called out in righteous indignation: "That's not a funfetti cake! A funfetti cake is made in a 9x13 pan with white frosting and funfetti sprinkles on top! You've put us all on!" And then I felt very guilty because he was completely right about what a funfetti cake is and I had clearly not made one when I had sworn I would. I spent the morning nervously worrying that the birthday coworker would take one look at the cake and burst into tears at the unorthodox format it was in.

She liked it. Phew.

Cake Update

Alright, so the cake actually turned out marvelously. The only bad thing about it is that when you try to slice it, it's like one of those Ginsu knives commercials where they cut through a brick. On the first pass the knife just stuck in the first layer and the whole cake migrated off the cake plate and onto the table. It was hilarious to watch, but the hilarity was a lot better once we all had a slice and realized that the cake was delicious. Like a big, big brownie. It's just big and hefty cake. I liked it so much that I'm making it again today instead of the cake I had previously planned on making for my mother's birthday. I shout hooray and tip my hat to my friend Carrie that gave me a new recipe.

My Day, a comedy in three acts

I'm trying to get back in the groove, here. Let me see, how did I do this before? Did I just type out whatever was floating around in my mind? We'll try it.

So.

Today when I was driving to work I saw this guy with an eyepatch, and I thought he looked pretty cool.

And I think I have lockjaw, because my left... jaw... really REALLY hurts when I try to open my mouth all the way, but my friend Carrie kindly reminded me that I couldn't have lockjaw because lockjaw is really just tetanus (brief interlude here to google "tetanus" because I've never typed it before and was struck by the fact that it contains the word "anus," is it really spelled that way) and since I had a tetanus shot just last year when I stepped on a sharp and rusty piece of outside metal I probably don't have lockjaw. So I just have some unexplained left jaw disease that's probably killing me as I sit here typing.

And I baked a cake tonight, but I'm not sure how it turned out. My same friend Carrie gave me the recipe and told me it was easy peasy but that the frosting is no good so just buy some at the store. I only realized afterwards that the store frosting really tastes like chemicals in a jar. I hope no one is offended by my chemical-cake tomorrow at work.

And OH! I had told a different friend that I would go to $4 yoga with her tonight, and I very definitely did not go. I was busy making a bad cake and watching The Emperor's New Groove to do anything healthy and active.


Is that how it's done? This Blogging thing? I don't think I got it quite right, but we all know that practice makes perfect. I hope.

Psst!

Hi internet! I've missed you, kind of. I guess working full time just makes a person not want to do anything else afterwards. Which is sad.

What is NOT sad, though, is that I bought a dress today. A dress! Not a shirt and skirt, but a dress! A cute one! One that is brown and ivory and was not expensive at all and it was the only one in the store and it was my size and I feel good in it!

And I will wear it to church on Sunday, and to my friend's wedding next week, and probably a lot of other places too, because I like it that much. But first I need to buy shoes that go with it. My shoe options unfortunately range from snow boots to old navy $2.50 thongs to crocs, to some black pseudo-heels, but alas, not brown heels. Which is what I think is what this dress requires.

Thus completing my transformation to "working girl." I guess my definition of working girl includes having a job and having brown high heels.

A Few Things I Cannot Stop Thinking About

There's this Catholic high school near where I live, and whenever I drive by it at night, the red digital scoreboard is lit up. No other lights are on, and it glows eerily by itself. I kind of feel like Satan is having an invisible football game out there.

I have thought so much about the Titanic recently, more than ever before in my life. When I come home from work, I'm all hot and out of breath from riding my bike against the wind, so I go straight for the freezer and pick some solitary ice cubes out of the tray. They stick pretty good, so I get a long time to think about how the Titanic sank because too many ice cube tray-like compartments got ripped open. I think about this every single time I see an ice cube tray. So basically I get a nice two-minute-long Titanic reverie every day after work.

I watched Persepolis tonight, and now I feel guilty about feeling vaguely aimless in my life since I didn't have to flee my war-torn country with no parents to guide me. I have no excuse!

Pools of Sorrow, Waves of Joy

Alright, creepy guys in Missouri parks aside, I don't think I was meant to eat that catfish on Thursday.

I awoke this morning to terrible nausea and an overall sense of Not Wanting to Move. Each step I took, even each shift in weight, made it clearer and clearer to me that I should not be standing, or even awake, for that matter. I promptly called in to work and returned to bed, entering an uncomfortable, as well as guilt-inducing, repose from which I would not stir for another four hours.

As much as I profess not to like the whole idea of Working, the unpleasant fact that you are expected to be there, day in, day out, whether it's a nice day out or not, sick days are far, far worse. You not only feel bad because your body is revolting against you somehow, but you also feel bad because you are in a way throwing a wrench into your office's plans for the day. Even if you improve as the day goes on, you still have the soul-crushing guilt weighing on you, making it impossible to enjoy the free time you have unintentionally gained.

By three o'clock, I felt lively enough, and once dinner-time came, I was persuaded to a birthday dinner for a friend at the local Krishna place and vegetarian restaurant. We sat in the courtyard, eating buffet food and listening to the guitar man alternating between the Beatles (late-ish ones, Across the Universe and Mother Nature's Son, etc) and James Taylor. The evening could not have been more perfect.

Except that my coworker was there for the party and certainly must think now that I was faking sick to elongate my weekend.

Friday, Friday

I'm not really sure what goes on in my office when I'm home for the evening. It must be pretty exciting, though. My chair is always really staticky, and shocks me every single time I sit down or stand up or shift my weight. The janitors have rolly-chair races, maybe? And there was a footprint on my desk next to the keyboard this morning. I don't even know what that means.

On an unrelated note, why oh why did I order catfish? Really? Catfish, at a restaurant where I could have eaten a nice big salad, or a delicious steak, or even a hamburger? Who orders catfish, anyway? I've now realized my folly, and I see that the only way to eat catfish is when there is no menu to choose from.

I watched a movie tonight! And I started reading a book the night before! They both were (are) amazing! I'm glad to have taken the recommendation of both August Rush and Life of Pi. Although the part about the weak and starving guinea pigs was a little bit sad.

I'm Not Sure How I Feel About This

Alright, so first, I follow this link from Dooce. It is very thought-provoking and a little sad and makes me feel weepy and wanting to love my life more.

Immediately afterward I get Rick Rolled. By the Muppets. All that emotion that had welled up inside me, suddenly transformed into something else. Something that I can't quite explain or understand.

Huh.

I love to cheer and sing in the theatre

There's just something about going to see a cult classic in a theatre that makes the funny come out in everyone.

Tonight we saw Labyrinth, that famously bad movie from the eighties with goblin puppets, David Bowie and a baby. Here's a few of my cherished memories from the evening:

-that part where 15-year-old Jennifer Connelly is about to eat the peach given to her by the dwarf and someone warns her, "wash it first!" in a way that makes me wonder if he has OCD.

-my friend says, in a rather Ralph Wiggum-esque way, "a Muppet just swore!"

-the entire audience, every time David Bowie's be-stretch-pantsed lower half comes in view, lets out shouts of horror and pain. Every single time.

Maybe if I was Fabulously Rich, I Could Go Naked and No One Would Care

I went to the mall this past weekend, because I'm stupid, and had somehow forgotten that not only do I hate the mall in general, but I hate it extra hard on weekends.

The mall on Saturday is the place where large families with many unruly children go. The mall on Saturday is where old people go to walk slowly in front of you. The mall on Saturday is where teenagers in love go to make out in public and accidentally link their tongue rings together.

Although I found the overall experience unpleasant and time-consuming, the trip did yield some good things. One good thing is that I now remember how much I despise the mall, and will not go there again for a good 6-9 months, hooray! The other good thing was that I actually found some clothes, which is why I went in the first place, to buy clothes for work.

Someday, when I am fabulously rich, I will have no need for shopping for clothes; I will hire a personal tailor who will design and create clothes just for me, so that I will always be well dressed and happy. And for now, well, I have two new shirts, so I don't need to go shopping again for a while.

This is What I Do on Saturday Nights

Seeing as how I turn on the TV once every three months or so, I couldn't say if this channel is always like this, or if it's just some show, but I found the coolest thing today! It's some sort of Arts channel, and it shows music videos! Instead of rock, pop or hip hop, though, it shows clips of opera, ballet, silent films, classical music with visuals of paintings.

What caught my eye was the Bolshoi Ballet performing Romeo and Juliet sometime during the 1950's. Pretty good, and easier to swallow as they breezed through the thing in maybe 15 minutes, showing brief clips of the most important parts.

Right now they're playing a piece of a 1926 German version of Faust, the scene in which Faust signs the pact, and let me tell you: Mephisto got some wicked glowing eyes. I may just have nightmares tonight. Augh, I think they just actually jabbed the quill into the actor's wrist so he could sign in blood.

Wow

Garfield Minus Garfield is kind of poignant.

Spring Is Here, Spring Is Here

I've said it before and I'll say it again: Spring smells amazing.

For the past few weeks I've been noticing a lovely flowers smell on my ride home from work, through the hip and jealousy-inducing neighborhood just east of campus. I also take as many opportunities as I can to spend my lunch break under that happy grapefruit tree, sometimes partaking of its bounty and sometimes just watching the woodpecker punch holes in the fruit.

I only wish I had more time to enjoy it.

At Least I'm Saving Money

I think I'm having some sort of Elijah and the cake episode in my shower- I keep using my shampoo, but it somehow never runs out. I've been working on this one bottle for... let me count, eight months now, and there still seems to be plenty left. Same goes for the laundry detergent that's probably a year old by now. It's not like I bathe and do laundry infrequently or with small portions of these cleaners. I don't know where it's all coming from.

My educated guesses thus far include product pixies and/or wormholes that lead to entire dimensions of shampoo and detergent.

My Five Favorite Senses

See: a black poodle and a white poodle growl and writhe as they play tug of war with a knotted rope in the early morning.

Smell: each street has a distinct smell as I ride home- one smells of burnt marshmallows, one smells of a thousand flowers, another smells of grape Kool-Aid.

Hear: my friends play Tchaikovsky, Debussy and Glinka, and they sound amazing.

Touch: I bought some delicious woollen yarn to make into a scarf and purse, and maybe a hat.

Taste: one of my prouder baking moments, a chocolate and orange birthday cake turned out better than expected.

Omen

The foam on my hot chocolate tonight briefly formed a rabbit in full flight.

This either means that I will get a raise shortly or I will lose all of my belongings in a house fire. Perhaps it simply means, "tomorrow you will go out for lunch and get some delicious tacos."

I'm pretty sure it's that last one.

I Finally Watched It.

How is it that I never heard about the one redeeming virtue of the Pirates of the Caribbean 3, that Keith Richards is Johnny Depp's brother?

I'm kind of disappointed that 3 was even more terrible than 2. Really, how can that be? My time is valuable, people! Don't make three movies badly when you can simply make one well!

As the ninja says, just as there is no honor among pirates, there is apparently no honor among filmmakers.

There's also this really patriotic song about 9/11

So I'm sitting there at work. I'm cut-and-pasting stuff from excel tables into a giant database. I've been doing this for four days straight, and the end is almost in sight. I'm tired.

And my officemate has the radio on.

During the past month I've become intimately acquainted with country music, or rather, COUNTRY'S BIGGEST HITS! From what I've observed, country has about 15 hits, which they play through every two hours or so, with some non-hits mixed in for flavor. After that, they repeat the process. I've counted, and on some days I have heard the same song four times.

The point of this post is not to bash country music, because all in all, it's not that bad. There are catchy songs, and even the bad ones are somehow better than the bad songs on rock or alternative stations. Bad rock is just bad, you want to turn it off. Bad country is kind of entertaining, like MST3K- somehow, it's so bad that it's good.

The point of this post is that, I've thought about this for pretty much all day today, so I think I'm right about this, 90% of "daddy-daughter wedding dance" songs are country. Think about it, recall the various wedding receptions you've been to, and you will see that I am right. In fact, the only non-country ones I can think of would be "Sunrise, Sunset" (which would be harder for most people to do, since it's a waltz) and "Father & Daughter" by Paul Simon (which isn't really easy to dance to, either).

Here is one kind of awful one that fits the genre. This one was probably written with the express intent of it being a wedding song. They are both, from what I can gather, COUNTRY'S BIGGEST HITS!

And this is a song that is not country at all, but is fantastic, just in case you need to get the country taste out of your mouth after that. Cleanse your palate, if you will.

Not Sure if This Was a Dream or a Nightmare

After waking from a nearly 20-year coma, I find that my parents have cleaned my room, a homeless man is stalking me, and my true love leaps out of the woodwork with a bouquet made of toilet paper. Oh yeah, and my grandma takes me out for a chocolate shake. Sweet!

Life vs. Meta-life

I have some friends that are very self-aware. They know what's going on in their lives, they analyze themselves and their relationships with others, they contemplate things.

Is there something I'm not getting? Is this a personality difference? I never think about things! Is this a characteristic that everyone needs to develop for themselves, or is it just something that some people naturally do and others don't and that's ok?

I feel like I'm a good person, like I try to do the right things for the right reasons, but I don't know that I have some overarching plan or understanding I have for my life. What if I wake up one morning to find that I'm 40 and I still don't know what I'm doing with myself? I have this vague fear that this will happen and I will not even notice because I don't think about that kind of thing. Because really, on a day to day basis, all I really think about is what to eat, going to work, coming home and what I'll do with my evening.

Any ideas on how to begin thinking about oneself?

Also No Portals to Parallel Dimensions

There's this great website that has equipment information and pictures of every classroom on campus. On the info page there are various choices of things you might want in a room: stage, computer connectivity, wheelchair access, one way mirror. One way mirror? I excitedly click through the entire database, one room at a time. There are no classrooms on campus with a one way mirror.

Novel Concept

You know the interesting thing about frost? Frost is beautiful, when you ride your bike in the morning and see the grass all sparkly and white, the palm fronds all sparkly and white, windows all sparkly and white. But you know what else is sparkly and white? The crappy bus stop bench is beautiful. The decaying banana that's been on the side of the road for two weeks is all white. And the mysterious wing of some bird, all gory and mangled, has a little sparkle to it. I can't really reconcile simultaneous attraction and revulsion that these objects inspire: rather than cancel each other out, the beauty and nastiness seem to simply make each other more pronounced.

The Honeymoon Isn't Quite Over Yet

I seem to have neglected the internet of late, both in reading and writing, for which I am more sorry than I can say. I have been rather busy of late, trying to figure out this life that grown-ups have, where you get up at six and go to work at eight and then come back home after five. It's pretty tiring, huh?

While I do not miss having homework and stress and exams to worry about, I kind of miss the student life, where if you really don't want to go to class, that's cool, it's your choice and no one notices. This new stress is different: it's the stress of knowing that no matter how much sleep you got the night before, no matter how messy your apartment is, no matter how much you just want to stay home and have a mental health day, you're expected to be at work. There is work to do, and if you don't do it, there will be double the work the next day.

All complaining about the situation aside, I really do like my job. It's detail oriented and consistent, which are things that I like, and the people are friendly and fairly laid-back, which helps when I don't know everything I need to know yet. A non-student, full-time paycheck sweetens the deal, and although I'm told that what I'm making isn't very much at all, it's still about three to four times what I'm used to living on. This "small" paycheck should be able to stretch a long way, as long as I don't start acting like I'm making more money. I should be able to build up a pretty sizable (for me) savings, and maybe take a vacation (with Vacation Days!) in a year or two.

Heart Guy, Finally Right Side Up

Twice in the past two weeks I have been woken up by people knocking on my front door. The first occasion I will be ever grateful for. It went a little like this:

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK (ten minutes later) KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Me, opening the door: "Hi male neighbor 1. Why are you waking me up at the ungodly hour of nine in the morning?"

Him: "My roommate, male neighbor 2, told me his boss wants a second interview with you this morning, and suggested I come to wake you up since you didn't seem to be answering your phone."

Me, already planning the quickest route to the shower: "My phone didn't ring, but thanks for the info. Goodbye."

An hour and a half later I walked out of the interview that got me my first job out of college. Huzzah for that persistent knocker, male neighbor 1!


The second occasion was a little more bizarre. During a well-earned nap on Saturday, I was surprised to notice that the bottoms of my feet were very cold. Then I realized that I was standing on the tile at the front door, with my friend Tyler the chef standing there, trying to talk to me. I had apparently responded to his knocking by getting off the couch and opening the door without actually waking up enough to hold a conversation. I think he told me something about a football game that we'd won, and then graciously left me when he realized he was talking to a sleepwalker. I'm still not sure why he came in the first place.

Musical Commands

Ones I've Ignored:

• Bust a move
• Don't stop till you get enough
• Do the hustle
• Everybody say heyyyy
• Pump, pump it up

Ones I Wish I Hadn't:

• Rock the Casbah
• Shine on you crazy diamond
• Fly me to the moon
  

Weird?

I had a dream about "drowning" a dolphin last night by blowing into its airhole. I felt really bad about it, though.

Sightings

Yesterday while cleaning out my car, I saw a hood running down the alleyway, glancing behind him a couple of times, then darting down another alley. Wow!

Today while riding my bike down the river, I passed a woman in her late forties, in some sort of black-with-patches-of-tie-dye, long-sleeved, shortish dress thing with black leggings and a light green beret/turban thing, rollerblading along the path in a stylish manner.



Oh! And I have one of the coolest friends ever! She's only a freshman, but she's leaps and bounds beyond me. She has style! She has this amazing yellow jacket that she wears with cute grey skirts and tights! Purple tights! Yellow tights! Red shoes! Carrie is too cool for words, and I got to have a cupcake with her today.

If money was no issue

I would move out of my apartment into a house again. I would take my roommates with me, but we would each have our own room.

I would spend one weekend per month, and then one month in the summer, somewhere else. Somewhere pleasant, like Ireland or Mexico City or the Adriatic.

I would always have Oreo cookies in the house, and I would buy high-quality peanut butter, shampoo, and sour cream.

I would decorate my house with vinyl wall stickers and brightly colored paint, matching endtables, fancy ottomans and couches without rips in the fabric.

Bookshelves. The pottery barn kind that's like a wall of cubes, and the kind that's like leany shelves. The house would never be cluttered because there would always be an empty space to put things.

I imagine that if I were immensely rich, I would end up buying many pairs of nice jeans, and many shirts of the same kind in a rainbow of colors. I would always wear the same outfit, in varying hues.

I would buy a puppy. An expensive puppy from the puppy store in the mall, where they're all cute and furry. I would hire someone else to take care of the messes the puppy would inevitably make.

Mmm, swirly glass blobs

Just so I don't have something depressing up at the top all week long.

Party Time!

I have good friends. They seem to like me, and they talk to me in the hallway, etc. They even invite me to parties! This seems like a friendly sort of thing to do, to invite people you like to your home and feed them things along with all the other people that you like. Somehow, though, it just doesn't end up being fun for me. I really appreciate that people think of me, but I'm beginning to wish that they'd just stop inviting me. The stress of being around that many people that I don't know, and being expected to talk to them when I really don't care to, kind of tires me out. Then I feel guilty for not standing in the middle of the room or talking to anyone, because that makes other people uncomfortable. Because, see, they think that standing next to the wall is not good for me, that it means I'm not having fun. But really, leaning on the wall is more fun for me than partaking in the conversation. Some people just aren't meant for this kind of socializing. I suppose that what I am trying to say is, you need to go read this article, because I am an introvert.

Recipe!

The spanish tortilla is the best of all omelets, or so boasts this article. Here you can see my delicious, but not completely circular, attempt at being spanish.

The beginning was questionable and a little scary. Visions of runny egg and potato dripping onto the floor danced through my head as I prepared for the flip.


After the surprisingly easy flip, during which nothing dripped anywhere it wasn't supposed to, things began to look up. Except I had already slightly overcooked side one in fear of insufficient coagulation.


The second side went so much faster than the first, a mere 4 minutes compared to the previous... nearly 15. The second side was therefore not burnt. The end result was very tasty and kind of pretty, with lovely little surprise caramelized onions at the surface every once in a while.


This dish is definately a repeat, as it tastes incredible and costs next to nothing to make (it comes out to about a dollar per person). Things I would do differently next time: get a sous chef, or a mandoline. The potatoes take forever to slice by yourself. Also try not to get fresh garlic under my fingernails, that kind of sucks later on when drinking smoothies for dessert. I think maybe next time I'll try not peeling the potatoes, that seemed to take a long time and I don't see any problem with leaving the skins on. While it didn't call for it in the recipe, my roommate who has experience with authentic tortillas questioned whether there should be cheese. It wouldn't hurt to try next time, authentic or not.

Completion

1. In 2007 I graduated with a bachelor's degree, taking several tough, upper-level courses, my first community college course, and a few courses that were just for me. I took my first self-planned vacation with my roommate, and went through the work of moving into and creating a space in a new home, again. I taught myself to floss, and did so with great consistency. If I can use that same motivation to create new daily habits this year, I can become wonderful. I watched as many friends around me found love and got married, but in general I have not been down about that the way I could have been. 2007 was a year of endings and beginnings, a year of change.

2. What is there to grieve about 2007? I grieve my time as a student, the fact that I no longer have the title and purpose that I've had for so much of my life. It was hard to get myself motivated to prepare for what was around the corner. I forgive myself for allowing fear to paralyze me, that rather than either enjoying my final months or working at finding a job before graduation, I simply worried and did nothing. Worrying did nothing but stress me out and give me this twitch in my left eye, even though this current time of unemployment is giving me the opportunity to organize my life, decide what is truly important to me, and make my home a place of peace and cleanliness.

3. The year taught me that it is possible for me to form good habits as well as to break less desirable ones, that it is alright to get rid of things to make my life more streamlined, whether those things be old clothes, extraneous activities, or unnecessary relationships.

I declare 2007 complete!

My primary focus for 2008 will be to continue to purge my life of clutter, be it of a physical, temporal, or mental nature. I intend to strip my life down to the essentials, to take care of the necessary parts of life and let the other things fall to the side. To begin fresh, and gradually build up the good in my life, to have quiet time each day and to know there is time to spare. 2008 is my year of priority.

(Thanks to Andrea of Superhero Designs and her wonderful prompt found here.)

Spring cleaning, the two-week-long version

Today we had our first experience with craigslist. Within ten minutes of posting this bad picture, with the same problem of it being sideways (an unfortunate side effect of my new computer- I haven't figured out how to get pictures rotated yet), I'd had an email, and within a half hour of that email, the shelves were gone from our life forever. We decided we didn't want them about two hours ago now, and the shelves are probably being set up in their new home as we speak. Hooray for recycling!

New Year's Resolution, or something

I resolve never ever to have a party with married couple friends and single friends at the same time. Why? Because married people suck, that's why. Or maybe just newlyweds suck. All I know is, if I have to sit through another evening of watching five couples vie for attention by loudly and playfully arguing with each other about some inside joke, I'm just going to have to rip the skin off of my face. People! Get a hold of yourselves! No one cares (really, NO ONE) whether you think your husband is weird because he knows what religion Madonna practices. "Kabbalah? How did you even know that? You're a real freak. I don't even know why I married you. Hey everybody, isn't he weird? Everybody?"

Now Joining the Year Already in Progress

Not to feel like slackers for the entirety of 2008, we got up early on New Year's Day to see the first sunrise. From the top of a mountain. Unfortunately for us, we didn't leave early enough, and were instead forced to watch the sunrise from the middle of a mountain, which turned out to be a windy, yet beautiful, affair. After a over-the-fire breakfast of eggs, hash, bacon and english muffins that tasted like lighter fluid, we drove back down the mountain and spent the rest of the day in a more reasonable fashion, with the tv on to a continuous stream of "Dirty Jobs" as we drifted in and out of sleep until the afternoon, then off to pick up some pizza for dinner.

As yet I haven't made any new year's resolutions, except for one with my roommate that has nothing to do with keeping our kitchen organized and clean. I can't remember the specifics of the ones I made last year, but since I can't remember them, I like to believe that it's because I completed them so well that they are no longer things that need improvement in my life.

Here's a toast to you in the new year, to health and happiness and clean kitchens.

Quote of the Day

"This game has gone on long enough. I propose that we elect Janny as a member of the carpet."


Quote of the week?

"With the Magic Bullet, clean up is a snap, and you don't even smell!"

Things You Sit On (alternately, things that can be flushed)

A toilet

An embarrassed person

A surprised game fowl

Yay I'm Unemployed!

There are some good things and some bad things about living the improvised life. A bad thing, for example, would be when you lie down on the couch at three because there's nothing else to do and then wake up all hot under the couch-blanket at six with lines all over your face from the pillow. On the other hand, it's kind of a warm-and-fuzzy thing when you pull black beans out of the cupboard, one remaining tortilla, some salsa and some cast-aside cheese from the fridge, and make a delicious dinner of pan-hardened cheesy chips and beans topped with salsa. Right now I'm working on making a cupful of ice cream out of some milk and a glorp of raspberry torani. Although maybe it will take a long time given the amount of milk... ice cube tray, do you think?

Project?

Always prone to the power of suggestion, I decided yesterday afternoon that I would follow an online set of directions for how to make unique and colorful Christmas gifts. Otherwise known as "doing a craft," which made up much of my young life at church. This craft, however, is completely voluntary and seems unimaginably cool to me, so it's all ok. I purchased the required materials yesterday evening, and began the process this afternoon. There are currently about six bulbous, soggy masses hanging from various parts of my house: the tv stand, the ceiling fan pull-string, the banana tree. Hopefully by tomorrow they will be finished and ready to put to use. If they turn out well, I will post pictures, I promise.

Sugar Headache

Parties are wonderful things, but I need to learn to control my intake of candies while celebrating. Particularly my intake of Sour Patch Kids, which I could refer to as the Food of the Gods.

I wish that you could live in my apartment, all of you, for a week or so each, so you could hear the neighboring sounds of our little corner of the world. We are fortunate to live on the top floor, and therefore don't get the requisite rolling-of-the-bowling-ball noises that come with downstairs living. The neighborly noises we get are much more pleasant.

Somewhere to our right lives a cat, an often despondently vocal cat, who cries piteously for attention and love. Now that we've figured out what it is, it's kind of sad but also kind of reassuring to hear: "at least he's not dead. He's got his health, and that's the most important thing."

To our left and down the hall a little ways there lives a clarinetist. A very dedicated clarinetist, who doesn't play twenty-four hours a day, but probably closer to ten than to one. At all hours of the day you can sit still and listen and hear him playing something or other. While we sometimes wonder how he can play that much without getting bored and finding something else to do, we enjoy living nearby, because it makes great background noise. Someday we will figure out which apartment he lives in, and go introduce ourselves to him. For now I will simply fall asleep to the soothing sounds of the clarinet, and thank my lucky stars we didn't move in next to a drummer.

Foux de fa fa

by Flight of the Conchords.

Because I apparently can only have a serious post at the top for a couple of hours at a time.

Feeling Thanksgiving-y

Today, in an attempt to make as much money as possible before graduating, I worked for the disability resource center on campus, helping administer finals for their students. It was humbling to see the different people coming to take tests- for some it was obvious why they needed assistance with their finals, but many others looked just like anybody else on campus, and I wondered how many difficulties the people around me have that I have no idea of.

I helped a girl with a final for a class I'd taken last semester, reading the questions aloud to her and then taking down the answers she dictated to me. She was very nice, and I don't know exactly what her situation was, but it was a little heartbreaking to read the question to her and look and see that the point of the question was lost on her. Simple strategies that I use, like skipping over extraneous words to get at the basic question that is being asked, seemed to be impossible for her to grasp. I wanted to put my arm around her and parse each of the sentences so she could understand what question she was meant to answer, because I could tell from the things she said that the information was floating around in there. She just couldn't figure out what information to give me to write down. The fact that I had taken that exact class, with that exact professor, so recently made it that much worse. I felt myself biting back answers to the questions; I wanted to remind her of readings that would help her, or tell her, yes, you're on the right track. But all I was there to do for her was read and write.

Is this what it is like for people? Are there many people who have this struggle on a regular basis? I never realized how hard these things could be, these things that come so easily to me. I feel guilty for never having appreciated how easy my life has been up to this point. This afternoon was definitely the hardest thing I've done for a long time. I don't know whether I could do that again if I wanted to.

That's when I learned that there are two versions of that song, and one of them you don't want played at your wedding.

There's just something about having wonderful people, rich and famous people, telling you about their shortcomings and mistakes. It's comforting and a little gratifying to know that they're just people, too, even though they do play a mean 12-string guitar.

One More Thing

Ha! You thought I was done with my Christmas listing. But you were wrong.

Yesterday as I was running around a lot in the drizzly rain, I thought to myself, "you know what would be great to have? Like, some sort of cross between a pretty shawl and a poncho, just a short one that goes to mid-back, so when it's rainy I can have a little covering, that if I'm carrying papers I can hide their tops under it, and maybe it would have two really big buttons to one side. I think it would be some dark color like black or brown, and made of material- not knitted yarn. Something sleek and dignified."

I don't know if such a thing even exists, but I was thinking about it yesterday. You know what? Maybe I shouldn't ask for this. I probably wouldn't wear it much, except maybe if it was more of a long shawl I could wear it to church where it gets cold and it could be nice to wrap myself and my arms in it. But if it was more like a shawl, that would make it less useful for in the rain... Except it doesn't usually rain all that much here...

Ok. I want a nice shawl, made of material, a nice black or brown or other neutral color to wear to church, and maybe when it's raining too.

Storytime

Ah, Christmas. The time of memories. Of family. Of precious tokens of love.

Remember that time a few years ago when I was working for Taco Bell? Remember how at Christmas they have a tiny tree on the counter that everyone brings an ornament for? Remember how I wanted to bring one with my name on it, so I brought my very favorite one, a faded pink ball that my great-grandmother had hand-painted my name on when I was born? How on Christmas Eve, after the work party, I was closing the store with my manager and decided to take down my ornament to keep it safe in my car, and how at that moment it slipped from my hands, and I was bitterly crying before it even hit the ground because there was nothing I could do? Do you remember me crying in the Taco Bell bathroom on Christmas Eve for a quarter of an hour over a shattered piece of glass, while my manager swept up the shards?

I do.

Feverishly Tired

Ok, aside from it now being three days of rain (apocalypse on its way, maybe?), I'm so glad that Saturday is over. Generally, Saturday is my best friend, but when early morning wake-up times are paired with evening-time boring musical performances, I know it's going to be tough on me. My only condolence for today was the promise of waking up at the sinfully late hour of nine o'clock tomorrow.

I know, I'm so bad.

Meteorological Bliss

It's amazing how surprising it is to have two days, two whole days! of overcastness and rain. Is that even legal? Are we allowed to have that much pleasantness in such a short period of time?

Today as I walked from my last class of the day to home, I decided to really take advantage of the rain and take my shoes off. Seems like everyone was enjoying themselves- as I walked around a corner I got a distinct whiff of pot and saw some guy loping off down the alley behind a sorority. Lots of people that I passed on the street looked up and smiled, said hi conspiratorially, as if we were all in on some secret. A secret about the weather!

This is a picture I did not take...

of the church building where I'm currently parking my car for free while I'm at school and work during the day. However, because there is no such thing as a free lunch (or in this case, parking spot), the church is located a good twenty minute walk away from any building on campus, which means I get a nice walk in every morning and afternoon. Anyway, back to the picture. This picture I did not take is of the steeple of the church, rather tall and stoic-looking, up against the grey, swirly, all-day-long overcast sky that drizzled on us fairly continuously today. The greyish-white of the church steeple blended in just enough with the greyish-grey of the clouds to make kind of a quietly beautiful sight. Alas, no camera. Double alas, even had I had a camera on hand, the picture would have turned out very blah due to the very little light available and the lack of contrast between the subject matter and the background. I guess it's all for the best.

Copping Out

I feel bad for doing a picture post so late in the month- I've made it twenty-seven days with words, and I decide I can't do it anymore? Well, not really. It's just that today is the first day in a very, very long time that I have been able to just relax at home in the evening, no work to stress about until tomorrow afternoon. So I want to enjoy it, and talk with my roommates, and just hang out. So you get to enjoy this picture I took of a pretty pretty butterfly on pretty pretty purple flower in Las Vegas. That's right, I did take pictures over Thanksgiving, and I'm showing them here. Who knows what tomorrow will bring! More pictures? a return to words? No one can tell (not even I).

Helpful Hints

In case you're ever in a group musical class-type situation, with one teacher and many instruments, here's some advice from my fellow guitar classmates:

Make sure you don't practice anything during the week. That way you can learn lots during class time.

When the teacher asks for a volunteer to play something, do anything but raise your hand. Instead, pick your nose, text your friends, or play your instrument quietly to yourself for twenty minutes while no one else raises their hand.

If by some mysterious chance, somebody volunteers to play, don't listen to them. Don't pretend to listen to them, either, and definately don't let anyone else listen. Play loudly over them to make sure a healthy cacophony is maintained in the classroom. This way everyone remains equal in your eyes and those of the teacher.

I'm not sure if you understood that last one, and it's important and bears repeating. If it looks like the teacher may be listening in concentration to a fellow-student's playing, stand up and play with all your might. But play a completely different genre than the class is for. Preferably an overplayed radio song. This will make you rise in your teacher's esteem for your guitarry prowess.

In Case You Were Wondering

Christmas lists get more and more guilty-feeling as I get older and my taste (and needs) get more expensive, but. You know, here it is.

Some sort of MST3K compilation dvd

Ooh, how 'bout an adjustment or a massage?

My walls are a little bare right now. Maybe something to liven them up?

Eh, I'm really not sure how much more stuff I want right now. My apartment's getting kind of full. I should really probably throw some stuff out, now that I think of it.

Curse you, Dario Fo

One of the banes of my existence this past four months or so has been the world of Italian theatre. Not that it's necessarily bad, but my professor has strange and unpredictable taste in plays, so it's always a gamble when you go to open a new reading assignment. Two of our last plays were by the same author, and the first one, while not spectacular, was pretty ok. Not hideously vulgar (like some plays we've had to read), kind of funny (it describes the Pope blessing people he passes while downhill skiing), it is one of my more favorite plays from the semester. All jazzed up from the first one, I move right along into the second, expecting more of the same. I could tell from the style that it was definately the same guy writing, but somehow it just wasn't funny. The play didn't seem to go anywhere, there were several dumb false endings that a six-year old could have come up with, and the final real ending was hopelessly cheesy, and not in a good way. I kept waiting for the play to hit its stride, to start being entertaining, but it just slogged its way through to the end, remarkably unfunny the whole way through.

Although we don't have any other plays assigned to us by this author, I almost feel compelled to read just one more, as a sort of tie-breaker, to see which play was more reflective of his work as a whole, and which play was the accident. But that will wait until perhaps the end of the semester.

Holiday Synopsis

Ugh. It's cold (relatively) outside, it's windy, the air seems to be even drier than it is at home, the water is hard. My hands are about to fall off my wrists and leave little flaky, wizened stumps at the end of my arms. If I don't gnaw the skin right off my knuckles before that.

I know, I know that nobody cares what I had for lunch, but I'm a little awed by the fact that in the past four days, I've eaten more meat, and more kinds of meat, than I probably have in the past month before that. Hamburger! Turkey! Ham! Pork! Lobster! Chicken! That's more than one meat per day. Also desserts on a grand scale. I'm almost looking forward to coming back home, where I eat small, college-scale dinners at home and dessert (if there is one) is a couple of those wafer cookies, you know, the kind that taste like cardboard with creme in the middle, the ones that come in packages of pink, yellow and brown? I think that the nontraditionalness of this Thanksgiving has been made up for by the vast quantities of food eaten.

There has been much visiting with relatives, and much talking about them later once safely in the hotel room. I love my family. And I can't wait to get home.

Black Friday?

Didn't venture out to shop today, but spent all daywith relatives from both sides of my family. I got to hear the story of my aunt and uncle taking home a live bobcat in their car, and discovering upon arriving home that the animal had expired during the ride. Only at that point did their passenger turn into an object of fright for them. My relatives are strange people. With the other side of the family this evening, we ate another Thanksgiving dinner that couldn't be beat, then ran around geocaching with my cute little cousins. Relaxing is tough work. And now, for a word from my 9-year old cousin:

....or maybe not. He's become suddenly shy, after efy6rfy (oh wait, there he goes!)

Sadly, only when I ask him to type something does he refuse to touch the computer. I guess the old adage works for blogging, too never work with children or animals.

Stranger in a Strange Land

It's amazing and somewhat saddening to see how many people spend Thanksgiving sitting in the casino, pressing the buttons on video poker machines. Of course, in order to know that, I had to be in the casino myself, but nevermind about that. It was a special exception to the general rule. All things considered, it's been a great holiday so far. I got to spend time with my relatives, I ate turkey and stuffing, I spent four hours in the car, I got to wear a jacket and scarf. Yessir, I'd say it's been a most satisfying Thangsgiving.

And boy howdy, Las Vegas just keeps getting bigger. Wider and wider, soon it's going to need to buy a new belt.

Happy Holidays

There's something exciting about going out of town for Thanksgiving for the first time in your life.

There's something disheartening about getting home from school and realizing you still have to pack, like, everything.


I'll be interested to see how traffic works this weekend, having only traveled once for a holiday, and that being by air. Hopefully all will go well, and I'll get maybe some fun pictures? And if you're lucky I may even post some of them next week! Have a happy Thanksgiving, and remember all that great stuff you have to be thankful for. What a wonderful holiday.

Hmm...

I just noticed a loophole in the system- my blog is somehow not in the same time zone as myself. This means I can post well into the next day and still have it count for the previous day. Although I am too tired to take advantage of this tonight, it is useful information for later. Not that I'd want to take advantage, but just that sometimes midnight comes around a lot faster than you'd think. And I wouldn't want to screw up my record for Nablopomo.

Slight Reprieve

It's an amazing thing when you're mercifully given the day before Thanksgiving off work, especially when you're going out of town that night and you still haven't packed.

On the plus side, I just finished the final draft of my assignment that's due tomorrow, and I don't have to be on campus until noon. Holidays are wonderful.

And yes, I nearly forgot to post tonight, and that's why this is such an uninspired post.

Liiiiiiive Braaaaiiinnnnnnssss

It's been a long time since I've waited till such last minute to write a paper, I figured I'd end my college career in style, not technically pulling an all-nighter (still have not accomplished this feat), but going to bed around midnight and getting up at 3:30 to finish. It is now nearly seven in the morning, and I can tell you it's no picnic typing up a paper while fighting the hiccoughs for an hour and a half. Now I know why I do this so little. Because getting up that early makes me lightheaded and I want to vomit.

Instead of vomiting, I will trot off to work and then to school, because rent doesn't pay itself, and because I want my stinking degree. Perhaps I'll be more interesting/funny/awake for tomorrow's post.

Uh, Meme?

I'm not all up ons the internet lingo, but I think what this means is that I've been made to be a participant in a blogging-type chain letter. Which, frankly, is not my kind of thing, so I'll do the seven "random" things about myself, but I refuse to link to a bunch of other people I don't know. Basically, I will only follow the rules that I feel like following.

So. Random stuff about me.

1. I play the banjo! Tonight we had a hootenanny which turned out quite well.

2. I own two chinchillas. I enjoy rodents as pets; my favorite in terms of cuddliness would have to be rats.

3. I'm kind of sad that I had my appendix taken out when I was ten, because I recently heard that they've finally found a use for it.

4. According to my mother, all of my friends are ugly.

5. Io parlo italiano, ma non bene.

6. I've had 1.33 bikes stolen from me- 1 in Vancouver, BC, and .33 last week at home.

7. I have a painting of a green monkey with a red background over my TV that everyone who comes to my apartment comments on.


Aren't you glad we've had this opportunity to learn boring facts about my life? Let's not do this again, ok?

The Code

Bicyclists have funny little codes, like, if you're on a bike and you're wearing the hilarious clothes, you're suddenly part of a secret society. You pass a bike going the other way, they briefly lift their hand as if they were secretly acknowledging your mutually privileged status. If a biker passes another biker changing a tire or sitting on the side of the road or whatever, not riding, they always ask to make sure you don't need anything. Why is this? Drivers of cars don't do this. Any hand gestures between drivers are generally less positive, and yet the drivers have the same kind of relationship as the bikers, don't they?

Today I found out that there's other stuff, too. Stuff that doesn't come out until a race. Like when the cop at the intersection stops you so traffic can go the other way, everyone starts yelling, "Slowing! Stopping!" A chorus of "stopping!" "On your left" and "car!" are also common things to hear. If there's debris in the road, like gravel or a water bottle, it is pointed to by EVERYONE and yelled out (" gravel!" "bottle!") by a few. There were also a couple of "biker down!" moments today, the news quickly spreading down the field. I guess all those 'race day' calls are simply to make everything safe for the ten thousand people riding the same course at the same time, but I still don't get the little secret wave, which occurs every day.

I Wish I Were Old

Waiting for the concert to start, the couple behind me discusses.

:"Did I ever tell you of a girl I knew in grammar school? Her name was Violet McDonald. Tall, blonde, not much to look at. I saw her years later in the suburbs. Beautiful! A Swedish dream!"

;"...they're late."

:"They're always late."

Bang Head Against Wall

You know you've chosen the wrong class to take when your research project leads you to believe that a dissertation in another language is a Great Source! The most information you can find! The most relevant scholarly material, and actually, the only scholarly material, out there on your subject.

You know you've chosen your roommates wisely when one of them can translate the most important bits into English for you.

But seriously, if you happen to know of any scholarly approaches to the corrido (a type of song popular in Mexico) that can be found on the internet, I'd be appreciative. And yes, I've already checked out corridos.org.

What Next?

My computer's power cord dies this weekend. $72.

Not 24 hours after purchasing a new cord, the rear wheel of my bicycle, my vehicle for getting almost everywhere during the week, is stolen. Dollar amount yet unknown.

I predict that my car will blow up in 45 minutes, after which I get fired from my job.

I believe that either I am being punished for some unknown crime, or something incredibly wonderful is about to happen to me and the universe wants to maintain equilibrium.

Fascinating

So, we all know that In-N-Out Burger has scripture references printed on the underside of their cups, the one I see most (because it's on the soda cup) being John 3:16. The text of this verse states,

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life."

Now, that's cool and all, that a wildly popular, yet still family-owned, burger joint thinks it's important to put scriptural reminders on their packaging. I like it. It's a nice little touch that makes me like In-N-Out, because their beliefs aren't hidden, but neither are they jammed down your throat (no pun intended). My roommate just came home from a long weekend, and threw down her duffel bag, backpack, and shopping bag that she keeps stuff in.

Did you know that Forever 21 also has John 3:16 printed on the bottom of their yellow bag of shame?

Endless Frustration

I certainly love Apple. I love it like everything else I've had since childhood (except my giant calves. Those I do not love so much). However, I have a qualm with my 2003 iBook (well, two, if you count my annoyance that it didn't even come with solitaire): my power cords keep crapping out on me. Yes, that is power cords plural. The first one lasted about two and a half years, then finally gave way to the constant pressures of bending. Imagine that! Expecting a CORD to BEND! A replacement was obtained, a slightly different type from an off-brand. That one only has lasted two years, and two days ago suddenly died as well.

Now, I'm all for the sleek and stylish design of Apple products, the whiteness and all, but I am for the first time in my life jealous of those Dell users with the giant ugly plugs for their computers. You know, the big utilitarian black boxes with the honking three-pronged plugs made out of titanium. Deep down inside of me, I would like to have such an unelegant thing to plug my computer into, knowing that it will forever and always fulfill its purpose of powering my favorite piece of technology.

Let's Do It; Let's Fall in Love

Why why why do I ever think it's a good idea to put on a weepy movie when all my roommates leave town for the weekend? It's not even eight o'clock and I want to hang myself (no, of course not really- just figuratively).

On a less depressing note, I've been reading my Elements of Style by Strunk and White, and it's amazing. How is it that a book on grammar can be so engaging? It's nearly a page-turner!

Three Weddings and a Transvestite

As much as I am for the institution of marriage in general, and for the happy marriages of my friends in particular, I'm getting a little tired of attending receptions full of old people and spending my evenings wandering the aisles of Target, Club Wedd registry in hand.

Let's space it out a little, guys, ok?

But Jackalopes Can't Open Doors

Interestingly enough, I am staying at my parents' house tonight, two weeks before Thanksgiving, but will be out of town for the holiday.

Fun conversation between my friend and I as we drove through the middle of the desert this evening:

"Beware of yetis!"

:"What? What are yetis?"

"You know, yetis. Like the abominable snowman."

:"Oh. Well I know what those are, but why should we beware of them? They need a place where it's snowy and cold."

"Well, you never know what will pop out of the dark desert suddenly. You've got to beware."

:"But there wouldn't be a yeti. There must be a different strand of them. A different type of yeti, that isn't all hairy, and with smaller feet."

"You mean like a satyr? But if they're all naked on top, they'd get sunburnt. They'd need to have hair on their shoulders, and no hair anywhere else. Like a pig."

:"Can't we just say 'beware of jackalopes?'"

15. Fill the Gaps

This might be a little ambitious, and I will therefore get partway through and then end suddenly because of my hatred for posts longer than a window's length, but when I read this prompt I immediately thought of my computer. My computer and I have been through a lot during the past 4 years, and I'd like to tell a few stories about it.

I remember getting the computer, pulling it out of the Apple box and turning it on for the first time. I vowed never to drink water near it or slam the lid or type with dirty hands. It was so shiny and white, so pristine.

At some point I read a funny passage on lileks.com about a handwritten "IOU Blanks" looking like "Lou Blanis," and how that would be a great name for a character in a book. I bestowed that name onto my computer, and to this day the screensaver that pops up is nothing more than the words Lou Blanis, with a silver Apple icon underneath.

Lou has been taken on road trips, to play movies and tv episodes with the audio fed through the car stereo. As we drove through the god-forsaken west half of Alberta, we blasted a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert through the car, giggling to ourselves as the bassist drooled on himself in a musical stupor.

During a lonely weekend in Parts Unknown when my roommates were out drinking with friends, I sat at home and meticulously colored the backs of all the translucent keys with fabric paint. I mixed up the M and the W, though, so they're the wrong colors. This only irks me when I really think about it, about how that stupid W is the same color as that stupid S, and there they are, in their adjacent same-colored matchingness.

Some of my favorite memories with my computer are from that time in Parts Unknown, that time when I was a junior and had lots of big important classes with big important papers to write. I learned early on that it was impossible to write a paper in my own apartment, where my bed and fridge and tv were, so I found a few other places to go. I found that to write a ten-page paper, I needed a pint of chocolate milk, sold in a mini-gallon-jug shape in the dorms' convenience store. I would walk downstairs in my big hoodie with my computer, buy a chocolate milk, then head to one of three places: this big pit-like area in the middle of the Education building, which was lined with carpeted benches, the completely depressing tiny room with three old computers in it on the 4th floor of the dorms, or the top floor of the library, where the space-age couches and table were. I generally preferred the library because there weren't too many people in the periodicals, and because the couches were so cool, and because the fifth floor afforded an amazing view of the flat flat city, and looking through the window at a snowstorm at night is such a comforting feeling. I would sit and type, looking out of the window every so often. Every time I finished a paragraph I rewarded myself with a drink of my chocolate milk- straw sticking out the top of the jug. I'm sure I looked like a lazy hog, sitting on a couch for hours on end, guzzling chocolate milk, but the papers got written.

My computer is older now, it has a hard time doing multiple things at once. It's no longer pristine and white; it's all fingerprinty and smudged grey and it's got an "I Voted" sticker stuck under the option key that's also fingerprinty and smudged grey. I've typed with dirty hands, but I never did spill water on the keyboard. It's had a pretty full life, and I hope to keep on with it for a while longer. Here's to you, Lou.

Volpitza (!)

Ugh, folk dancing is hard work.

Yay, folk dancing is really fun!


While I truly enjoy the experience of group dancing and moving to the sounds of accordions, violins, etc, it's pretty intense stuff. I'm having a great time learning to do fun little hand-clappy dances, little grapevine dances, little polka-y dances. Who knew something so dorky could be so fun?

19. Give us your scraps

I wasn't feeling particularly inspired tonight, but Maggie once again has caught my interest. Here's some flotsam from my computer and my notebooks.

In a file marked "Saskatchewan Verbal Weirdness," we have this gem: "I've got a friend who was done her finals last week, she's back home in Nipawin already."

Then we have a classic example of my constant planning/fretting:


In my little orange notebook, I've got this, which I have no idea where I got it from, but it's excellent: "Justice too long delayed is justice denied." -Martin Luther King

And then this amazingly telling list:
-hang artichoke
-crayons
-fishbowl + succulents
-sox? for monsters?
-eating pan for chinnies?
-pot rack solutions?

Halloween Came Late This Year

After a lovely and unexpected nap in the music building's unused lobby, accompanied by some amazing classical guitarist, I head down to the basement for my piano class. I'm still a little early, so I go to use the restroom. I enter a stall, close the door and glance into the toilet to find the LARGEST COCKROACH ON THE PLANET hanging out in the bowl. Unable to scream, I simply exit the stall and use another one. Upon a later retelling of the story, I am chastised by my roommate for not flushing him, for leaving him to be found by some other hapless person.

Meta-Blogging and Stars

My roommate is much more observant than I am, and she often asks me after some fun event or awkward moment, "will this be on the blog?" Sometimes I just want to say, "yes! How do you think I will word it? No, wait, let me get a pen." She'd probably do a better job of writing my blog than I do.

One thing that she didn't think to put on the blog recently was the drive we took last night out on the east end of town, straight out into a lovely little pass that overlooks the city. This place is great for many purposes- for drunken parties, for make-outs, for dry ice bombing and for stargazing. The first two I have unfortunately never accomplished out there, but I can attest to the greatness of that area for the last two activities with personal experience. Last night we just sat on the trunk of the car, shivering a little and looking at all the stars. It's truly amazing how much difference a little 10-minute drive out of town can do for how many stars you can see. There's like, a kajillion of them. We had fun trying to find constellations, and then when we could only find Orion and Casseopia, making up our own constellations (meet the Obese Goat With No Legs and the Short Fat Pencil). We didn't have a whole lot of time to just sit there, since we were both very tired, it was late, and she still had work to do at home before going to bed, so we only stayed out there for maybe 15 or twenty minutes, but it did wonders for our moods.

Sighting

The other night, as my roommates and I sat in class together, a young man sticks his head in and asks if he may join the class for the evening. He stays and participates in class, remarking that he's just "passing through." Who passes through anymore? I thought passing through was for vagabonds in the 30's, going from town to town, looking for work. I am vaguely fascinated, but after class I have nearly forgotten about his existance. Then we press through the doors, into the parking lot. Why, that's a strange vehicle. I don't believe I've seen one of those in our parking lot before.



The upshot of this story is that we got three Weeny Whistles and a look inside the magnificent Weinermobile. It does not have a sunroof, but there appears to have a nice bun-roof. He drives from city to city, doing appearances and events, and he gets to see all of mainland America. Lucky him! If you see him in your town, say hi to our friend Jeff for us.

Donations in my name can be made out to the Human Fund. Well, just write the checks out to me. I'll make sure they get used appropriately.

I was mailed an invitation to my commencement by the Dean's office of my college. I guess I've got to do this thing. Is it normal to feel like you want to vomit? When you think about it, graduation really is going to change my life. I've been a student for 17.5 years.

That ends up being about 78% of my entire life. That's a lot of life. It's pretty much all I know how to do, is being a student. Not that I want to be an eternal college student. They're pretty pathetic, not to mention I'm not really a fan of writing papers and going to class. But then again, will I really be a fan of going to work every day, all day? We'll have to work on this situation.

Nablopomo

We're trying this again. Let's see if November 2007 gets any better.


To start things off, I'd just like to talk a very little about why I like where I live. I like where I live because only in this part of the world do you get to see a mariachi walking and playing across campus, with a slowly growing crowd following them, holding pictures of loved ones. I don't necessarily celebrate el Dia de los Muertos, but I'm glad somebody does, and I'm glad that I get to see it. I'm also glad that sometimes our neighbors would hire a mariachi to play for their parties, and we could casually go on a "walk" back and forth past their house to listen. I'm currently taking a class on Mexican Folk Music, and while I've found one genre that I decidedly do NOT like (banda sounds like Disneyland-employed Germans on crack), most of it is amazingly cool. I'm glad that I can live at the intersection of two cultures.