Let's All Celebrate!

Happy October 9th, everybody!

You're probably saying to yourself, "yeah, October 9th is alright, but what has it done for me lately?"

Really? Are you really thinking this? Because if you are, maybe you've forgotten some key events in the history of the WORLD. Events like...

-Leif Erikson landing in Canada, pretty much discovering the Americas, in 1003.

-Slavery being abolished in Costa Rica, in 1824. (woo!)

-A 13 kilogram (est.) fragment of the Peekskill Meteorite lands in the driveway of the Knapp residence in Peekskill, New York, destroying the family's 1980 Chevrolet Malibu (1992).

-The 1835 birthday of Camille Saint-Saens. How would you feel if the Carnival of the Animals had never been written?

-Or try the 1900 birthday of Alastair Sim.

-And last, but not least, on this day, 68 years ago, our own beloved John Lennon was born.

And what better way to celebrate such a momentous occasion than to attend the John Lennon Birthday Bash and Beatles Singalong!



It was pretty amazing, let me tell you. There were prizes for best costume (this one guy won all three prizes, because he was the only dressed up. But he clearly would have won anyway, because he was wearing one of those Sgt. Pepper costumes? The icky pink suit thing? Yeah, we think he might have been on drugs, or maybe he wasn't a native English speaker, because the questions he answered on stage were definitely not the questions being posed to him by the emcee. Hilarious!), and dancing on the stage while the videos played and the non-dancing audience sang their hearts out.

The only problem was that after an hour or so of singalong, they stopped the music and put on some documentary about John Lennon, which my friend and I were having none of. If there is no singing along, there is no reason to be there anymore, so instead we drove off in her sporty little car, and blasted some non-Beatles music to sing along with.

One funny thing, though: in the video of Instant Karma, (I'd never seen it before!) there's an incredibly uncomfortable-looking, be-suited man trying to play the tamborine but not really seeming to know what to do with it. Also: Yoko Ono is crocheting... blindfold? Once we'd gotten a chance to look closely and she really WAS doing what we thought she was doing, my friend shouts to me over the singing, excitedly:

"She's making a political statement!"

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.