Things I hope to do tomorrow

Wake up in my backyard (98% sure this will happen)

Ride my bike! (85%)

Be less stressed at work than I have been for the past two months (50%)

Maybe have lunch? (95%)

Do something fun at the park (90%)

Not get a nosebleed (50%. My nose and the air have been fighting recently for no reason)

Eat dinner in some fashion (85%)

Eat a mini Twix bar (110%)

Fall asleep in my backyard (98%)

Guaranteed to incite reactions

I don't know what it is about me, but there's some sort of aura around me that makes people behave strangely. Case in point: people in old, red jeeps.

Last week, as I was riding home from work, this young dude in an old red jeep nearly ran me over because he wasn't looking for oncoming traffic before pulling out into the road from a grocery store. No big deal, I braked, he saw me, he braked and looked sheepish as I rode past him. Standard procedure, right? Nope. He eventually did make it into the road, and as he passed me he shouted out "I'm sorry!" quite loudly and waved.

What am I supposed to think of this? People in cars don't talk to people on bikes. Unless they're whistling as they go by, or unless they personally know the biker. But ok. I accept your apology and and somewhat confused and grateful for it, I guess.

And then tonight! I was riding home from work again, wearing my work slacks all rolled up slovenly to my knees so I wouldn't get them ripped up or greasy, and I was stopped at a red light. This... female person... (too old to be a girl, too young to be a woman, too crass to be a lady) drove up into the right turn lane next to me, and started the most bizarre conversation with me that I've had in a long time. During the time she was waiting to turn right, she chastised me for not "rocking out" to Whitesnake, made inappropriately generous assumptions about who slaps my backside (and whether or not it jiggles on those occasions), mimed fellatio ("practice makes perfect!"), and asked me how much weight I've lost (what, in my lifetime? In the past three months? Since we began this conversation?). Then she just drove off, leaving me in a cloud of exhaust and bewilderment.

What is it about me that invites people to just talk to me whenever they feel like it? I'm just trying to get home so I can spend a few hours unconscious before another day of stress and hard work. Please don't talk to me.

Recess: The Revenge!

Tonight I fingerpainted Kermit the Frog on a bicycle (my friend did a stunningly accurate Boba Fett and R2D2), ate Oreos and chocolate milk and Gushers and Fruit by the Foot, played Pictionary of 80's pop culture icons, sang along with Disney songs, played tetherball and four-square, and watched Muppet Treasure Island while lying on the floor on my stomach. Then I rode my bike home.

It's good to be a kid again, even if for just a few hours.

Sorry excuse for a post: somebody else's poem.

One should always be drunk. That’s all that matters;

that’s our one imperative need. So as not to feel Time’s

horrible burden one which breaks your shoulders and bows

you down, you must get drunk without cease.

But with what?

With wine, poetry, or virtue

as you choose.

But get drunk.

And if, at some time, on steps of a palace,

in the green grass of a ditch,

in the bleak solitude of your room,

you are waking and the drunkenness has already abated,

ask the wind, the wave, the stars, the clock,

all that which flees,

all that which groans,

all that which rolls,

all that which sings,

all that which speaks,

ask them, what time it is;

and the wind, the wave, the stars, the birds, and the clock,

they will all reply:

“It is time to get drunk!

So that you may not be the martyred slaves of Time,

get drunk, get drunk,

and never pause for rest!

With wine, poetry, or virtue,

as you choose!”

- Charles Baudelaire

Harder to do with a fractured elbow? Yes or No.

Scrub the toilet: yes.
Eat with a fork: yes.
Type: no.
Use a mouse: yes.
Drive a car with manual transmission: yes.
Get to work on time: no, but don't tell my boss.
Watch silly videos on youtube: no, thank goodness.
Twist your arm about one degree in a clockwise manner: HOLY MACKEREL YES.
Brush hair, shampoo hair, scratch head: yes.
Deal with the way no pianist seems to be able to count out how long the long notes at the end of each phrase in "Be Still My Soul (Finlandia)" are IT'S FIVE BEATS PEOPLE: always hard, fractured elbow or not. I'm just grumpier about it when I'm in pain.

Why my friend Krista is All That

She has a garden (usually).

She is like the other half of my brain- the more likeable, friendly half.

She loves me enough to be trusted with my most awkward moments and will listen to the things that I never tell anyone else. I don't know if she's aware of how important that is to me, but she's really the Only Person that I can actually verbalize the things that go on in my head to. Talking to her is like lying down on my favorite couch- I feel completely comfortable and don't have to worry that she'll take things the wrong way.

Also she has amazingly attractive red hair.

This is the part where I get close to having an epiphany, but don't actually have one

Once upon a time, in a vain attempt to understand me and my weirdo brain, my mother asked me how I think. Which is a kind of hard-to-answer question, if you think about it. "How do you think" is about as easy to describe as "what does it feel like to breathe" or "what does blue look like." You've only ever done it one way and therefore have no basis of comparison.

The final answer that we came to was that while she (my mother) thinks in a kind of... string of words?, I think in a picture. In fact, pretty much none of my thinking happens with words anywhere attached. This explains a lot about how I act and feel in general, so I'm happy that we figured that out.

The weird thing, then, is that recently I've noticed that when I'm very tired, and in that same almost-asleep state where you dream that you're walking along a curb and suddenly fall off it, or a car drives by really close and you have to leap out of the way, and your muscles jerk around and wake you up, I've been having... word dreams. Like, not really a dream, so much as a floating persona in front of me, saying words at me. I can hear someone, my friend or relation or coworker, saying these words, these words clearly and in a kind of loud but conversational tone. Words like amorphous and defensible and caricature and baffled and leeway. The words are spoken in a string and I can recognize each word, but only after they've said about twenty words or so and I startle myself awake do I realize that they weren't actually saying sentences at all, but long strings of nice-sounding words.

I wish I understood me and my weirdo brain.

Hip hip hurray, tomorrow's the big day!

Not that you've seen me around here recently anyway, but be prepared not to see me here in the next week and a half or so. Come back later for maybe a picture or two of the upcoming excitement.

From the Wikipedia entry on Erdos-Bacon Number

Daniel Kleitman, a mathematician at MIT, was an advisor for the movie Good Will Hunting and appeared briefly as an uncredited extra. Minnie Driver, who appeared in that movie, also appeared in Sleepers with Kevin Bacon; as such, Kleitman's Bacon number is 2. He also coauthored a paper with Erdős. This gives him an Erdős–Bacon number of 3.

The only ways a lower number could be achieved would be:
- for an individual who had co-authored an academic paper with Paul Erdős to appear in a movie with Kevin Bacon;
- for Bacon to co-author an academic paper with someone with an Erdős number of 1, which would give Bacon an Erdős–Bacon number of 2;
- for anyone who appeared in the documentary N is a Number along with Erdős to appear in a film with Bacon, which would posthumously give Erdős an Erdős–Bacon number of 2;
- for Kevin Bacon to appear in a film that also uses stock footage of Erdős, giving Erdős an Erdős–Bacon number of 1;
- for a heretofore unknown joint academic paper by Bacon and Erdős to be published, giving Bacon an Erdős–Bacon number of 1.
- for Kevin Bacon to be revealed as Paul Erdős in disguise, giving Erdős-Bacon an Erdős-Bacon number of 0.

Why my friend Cammie is All That

She's smart and she's not afraid to use it.

She tries to live sustainably but she also eats brats on a regular basis.

She is my catalyst for doing cool stuff like dancing in public, going on vacation and buying CHiPs sunglasses.

She's kind of loud.

She consents to themed dinner and a movie nights with me.

She laughs a lot.

For all her amazing qualities, she is still fallible and human.

Clearing out all my old text messages. Here's my favorites. Some of them might be interesting, but maybe some aren't that great if you aren't me.

Yay for courage! -Cammie

Right. I will be there at a fish past 6:40. -Tyler

Up for some singing tonight? Beatles, baby! -Cammie

The line is sooo long, I am not standing in line for an hour for a burrito. -Richard

That's cool. I'm loafing around drinking grape juice. -Laura

We are not afraid. We shall live in peace. Deep in my heart I do believe, we shall overcome... Right?! -Isabel

*This one isn't a text at all, but a picture my Mom sent me of a shopping cart full of Mother's cookies*

Ceiling proctor is watching you fill in ur ovals. -Isabel

Really, what colors? I was getting choked by my shirt collar. -David

Isaiah 61:3. -Cammie

Have you lost your mind? -Mom

Is that a bicycle on your shirt or are you just happy to see me? -Cammie

And then I have codine for afterwards. What more does a guy need? -Killen

Or jamaica. -Tyler

I got really excited when I looked at a map! -Cammie

Woo! -Dad

Holy Middle of May, Batman

Little things that need to be said

For someone not really talking about robots, Ira Glass certainly says the word "robot" a lot. Is it because his main goal in life is to narrate the innately human that robots are just kind of on his mind? Or do robots just come up in speech a lot in general? I will have to pay more attention to my own conversations and do some research.

I really need to track down a good recipe for lamb korma, because it is the food of the gods. If I was forced to eat that every day, I don't think I would mind as much as I would mind being forced to eat, say, Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Apparently Oprah has the power to bring fast food, and the population of the country, to its knees. This kind of ruined my lunch plans today. Curse you, Oprah!

I ran into my friend's house to grab something I'd left there this evening, and her roommate had some friends over as an end-of-semester type party. I was in the house no more than two minutes, just picking up my belongings and then walking back out, when one of the attendees, a person I want to describe as flamingly and outspoken-ly gay (but whom I won't describe that way because WHAT IF HE ISN'T AND I'M COMPLETELY WRONG ABOUT HIM), walked up to me and started talking to me. He was talking to me in the frank and open and unnecessarily personal way that only drunk people usually talk. Since I know that no alcohol was being served at the party I must draw my own conclusion that either a) he had provided his own libations or b) he must have thought I was someone else? Anyway. He walked over to me and began talking: "Thank you. You know, I LOVE the LDS. I really do. I love them with all my heart. My first voice teacher was a bishop and I just love him. You're all great. I know I'm just playing into stereotypes, but that's how I feel." About halfway through he lightly placed his fingertips on my belly in the way that most people would place their fingertips on a person's shoulder to make a serious point, and that kind of creeped me out, like, please don't touch me, I'm not worried about catching The Gay, but what if I catch The Overly Chatty?

Also, hurrah, because I didn't work this morning and because I blew off my usual Saturday bike ride with my Dad, I was able to get some major cleaning done! Laundry: hung up! Bedroom: cleaned and vaccuumed! Bathroom: spotless! Chinchilla cage: no longer full of poop! I also finally fixed the two flat tires my bike has had for the past two weeks, just in time for the thermometer to hit the triple digits and school to let out so I will be driving to work and parking for free for the next three months. The bright side to my bike needing to be fixed is that I finally broke down and bought a pump. This means that next time I have to fix a flat I won't have to walk down to the gas station around the corner to fill up my tires, although I may do it sometimes just for the sheer thrill of walking down the alley holding a wheel in my hand.

This is how you know I should be asleep in my bed

When I sit around reading forums just because I'm awake, and then laugh big, barrel-chested laughs when I find this: "Maybe spending my formative years cleaning restrooms at a fast food joint has given me a bit of bias here, but I'm fairly certain that a couch in a guy's restroom would be a heinous piece of furnature that I wouldn't touch with a ten foot pole."

Also when I look long and hard at the "Monetize" tab in blogger and wonder how they intend to make my blog more like Monet's. Why is there no tab labelled Michelangelize?

Also when as I'm doing both the above things I keep looking over my shoulder because I can very plainly hear my doppelganger sneaking up behind me, timing her steps with the rhythmic sway of the washer/drier. I hear you! You think you're being sneaky and silent but I can hear your presence behind me!

Safe as Howard's End

Hmm, in answer to your question, Lu, yeah, it worked in that the crocs became cleaner and the washing machine did not break. It did not work in that one of the little doohickies that keeps the strap on somehow opened up in the machine. It would have been less of a problem if I had put the doohicky back on the shoe in the correct place and snapped it back together. Unfortunately, I first had to make sure the snap thing on the doohicky still worked, and so snapped it together, unconnected to the shoe or the strap. Turns out those doohickies are dang strong and do not come apart for the WORLD. So now I have one nonworking shoe out of six. I was thinking of putting that shoe back together with an unraveled paper clip, but does anybody else have any grand ideas that are less white trash?

In other news, I've heard the term "safe as houses" twice during the past 24 hours, before which I can safely say I had never ever heard it at all, in my life. Has this always been a common phrase? Am I missing something? It isn't even that I heard it from similar sources- once was on a Shark Week episode of Mythbusters (I feel lucky that the one time I've felt like watching tv for the past, uh, three years or so, there was a Mythbusters marathon going on) and the other was spoken by Helena Bonham Carter's character in Howard's End.

Which brings me to my next point: what gives, Howard's End? I liked Where Angels Fear to Tread, I liked A Room With a View, I tried Howard's End, muscled through about half of it, failed to find the plot, and ground to a dejected halt. "I'll watch the movie," I thought. "Certainly with Emma Thompson, Helena Bonham Carter, and, oh crud, you know, that dude. The Silence of the Lambs dude. You know his name. Anthony Hopkins! Certainly with those three niftiest of actors the movie will help me understand the awesomeness of the book. The book's a classic, right?

Turns out the book is a classic in the same way that the freaking Great Gatsby is a classic: because it's kind of boring, you feel nothing for the characters, and feel a little more than vaguely annoyed when you finish and realize you can't get those hours of your life back. They are gone forever.

Ok, so I guess that the movie at least had one redeeming quality- Emma Thompson had a few really amazing outfits. There was this one grey striped dress kind of in the middle of the movie, before she got all fancy, but only just before, and it was quite beautiful. And then at some point she's wandering around the outside of a... castle thing... and wearing a really fancy gold-ish dress that you don't get to see enough of because you're mostly looking at her back in that scene.

Anyway. Back to my point.

What was my point? Where was I going with this? I guess all I really wanted to say was that the movie sucked. And I'm glad I didn't keep reading the book, if that's where it was all heading anyway. That is all.

Simple pleasures

So yesterday, I did the most amazing thing! I cleaned my bedroom!

"... and underneath a dirty sock you found a hundred dollar bill?"

No. I just cleaned my room, is all. It made me feel good, so good in fact that today when I got home from work I vaccuumed it, and then I started to feel really adventurous and decided to clean my three pairs of crocs. They've been getting kind of sad and dusty, and I think it should be ok that I threw them all into the washing machine.

Please don't tell me if it's a bad idea, because it's already in progress. My roommates will be relieved, I am sure, that I didn't dump in a bunch of dish soap the way I wanted to. I thought better of it for the sake of the machine and people's clothes, and went with regular clothes detergent. Hopefully that gets them clean.

My favorite part? The amazing squeaky noises eminating from the hallway. All that wet croc material, rubbing up against itself! I love it.

Thank You, Cathartic Internets

Holy mackerel, when did the internet get so funny? Maybe it's because I've spent most of this week being crushed by sadness and depression and general sitting-on-the-couch-after-work-alone time. And then today I get home from work and get on the computer at home (for the first time in a good while) and boom! People are saying all these great things!

In other words, it felt really, REALLY good to sit down and laugh out loud this afternoon. So good, in fact, that I will share the awesomeness that was our Pi Day Pi Party from last Saturday.... sometime. Tonight.

Until Then

So I've been having a hard time getting motivated enough to sit down with my computer and upload the pictures on my camera (frankly, I've been having a hard time getting motivated to do anything, including opening my eyes in the mornings), and until I get that done I won't be able to tell (show) the world about my adventureful weekend. I'm very excited to tell about the great times that were had by all on Saturday, which was a holiday for the math nerd in all of us, so perhaps tomorrow I'll get up the gumption (whoa that doesn't look right at all... gumtion? gumpshun? sigh. No longer am I my own dictionary) to get the ball rolling. I am sure everyone will wait patiently until then.

No Curds or Whey Were Harmed in this Production

You know that show, America's Funniest Videos? Back when Bob Saget would make the funny voices for animals and you would sit your younger self down to laugh and laugh at others' misfortunes? Yes? Ok. Let's get more specific.

You know those ones where you see this woman in her kitchen, maybe she's baking a cake, maybe she's singing along to loud music? Maybe she's baking a yellow cake with orange zest in it that will be delicious, and singing and dancing while using the mixer because all her roommates are out and she can be as obnoxious as she wants while alone in the apartment? And then you see someone sneak up behind her with a fake spider on a fishing pole and lowers it down until it's about an inch from her eyebrows and she jumps three feet in the air and screams bloody murder?

Yeah, that just happened to me, except it was a Freaking Real Spider coming down from the ceiling, no fishing pole involved. Boy am I glad there was no one around to see that or capture it on an old 90's camcorder to send in to Bob Saget.

My Life is a Spelling Bee and I'm Winning

Last night as I was getting ready for bed my roommate popped her head in the door.

"Hey ViolaSaint, how do you spell mediocre?"

I told her, she said thanks, and walked back to her room.


This morning I was sitting at my desk and doing something or other, you know, working, and my phone rang. Looking at my caller ID, I saw it was my boss' cell phone. This is not uncommon, as he frequently disappears to meetings and otherwise walks around campus for hours at a time, meeting with people from everywhere and generally Getting Stuff Done. I picked up the phone.

"ViolaSaint! How do you spell cabbage?"

I let him know how to spell cabbage, he said ok, and hung up.


What the heck, folks? I know I'm very dependable as a dictionary and thesaurus, and so I'm handy to have around, but usually my services aren't needed twice within the same twelve hour period. Also, why in the world did my boss need to know how to spell cabbage? I can think of myriad reasons for my roommate to use the word mediocre, but cabbage? Really?

On an unrelated note, I dislike jogging about as much as I like sitting around talking and laughing with friends

So we got a new roommate recently (ok, so maybe it was a month or so ago by now), which means no more filling up the whole closet of clothes, no more naked time after showers, and no more falling asleep to weird music on the iPod for me. Which are all sad things to be without.

On the plus side, she's very nice and likes to laugh and likes to make other people laugh. She's easy to get along with, and thus far hasn't complained about anything I do, although I'm sure there are things to complain about.

My new favorite thing about the newbie roomie, the favorite thing that I just discovered this afternoon upon returning home from work, is that she is secretly Witch Hazel.



Yes, beneath that skinny, pretty, blonde exterior is a giggling, fat green witch with high-heeled boots. How do I know this? Simple. She leaves a little scattering of bobby pins all over the floor, whenever she (apparently) jumps onto her broom to fly off for the evening.

I'm not sure if the bobby pins will ever annoy or otherwise upset me, but for now it just makes me laugh, imagining her cackling and getting ready to split a hare with her big ol' cleaver.