This is one of those blog things. I am to tell you ten things about my life having to do with a particular letter. Beth has picked the letter "A" for me. I guess I'm also supposed to ... pass this on? If you want to play, you reply, I tell you what letter and you make one of these in your own blog? It sounds very frightening and interactive.
But here goes.
1. Amy. As most of you probably know by now, my name is Amy. This seems like the most basic place to start, and I'd like to thank Beth for assigning me a letter with a freebie. That's a good friend, folks! Anyway, if you were to ask my father, he would tell you that my name is Amy Grace. And this is what he tends to call me. Neither he nor his sisters were given middle names at birth. What he uses as a middle name, Joseph, was his confirmation name, from my uncle. So in his mind, I don't have a middle name either; Amy Grace is my full first name. I put an official stop to that shortly before I turned four, when I had my first dance class. My father introduced me as Amy Grace, but I told Miss Roseanna that she should just call me Amy. I was also nearly named Amelia, though my mother would still have called me Amy. Amelia was the name of my great-great grandmother.
2. Anita. Anita is my sister, though I never call her Anita. We call each other Bud, which we vaguely understand may be odd to people who don't know us. I'm told this is an Irish thing, to have the nickname Bud, though it's really a nickname for a boy. My grandfather was Bud. My sister turned 15 ten days after I was born. Both my parents worked, and my sister was pretty much my primary caregiver when I was a small child. She changed me and doted on me and is probably the reason I'm so darn smart. I love her more than just about anything. However, she constantly (constantly!) reminds me about how she changed me and doted on me and is probably the reason I'm so darn smart. And that can get very annoying.
3. A boyfriend. Heeeeeeeee!!!! I could just leave this here, as it's perhaps more descriptive than anything I could say. I normally don't get publically gushy about my relationship. That's for us. But it's positively alarming how much I love and care for this person.
4. Acting. I almost wrote "art." This is probably the topic about which I could write the most, and about which I could probably never fully explain how I feel. Ever since I can first remember, there are only two things that I ever wanted to be in life: an "actress", or an "artist". I fervently hope that one day I might be both. It's a hard answer to give, though, and not just because it's a tough path to pursue. In the past, my answer was always tempered by the fact that I was young and I accomplished a lot in school. I don't have that anymore. I'm not used to people assuming that I'm stupid, but when it's widely known that you're trying to break into acting, that's what people assume. My mother told me that my chosen course is beneath me. I don't know how to respond, because I always felt like I was aspiring to something higher.
5. Ambidexterity. It's a thing that I have. Though according to the internet, I am not truly ambidextrous. And if I am, it's a sign that I have brain damage. What! I in fact am "cross-dominant" or something like that. The deal is, I do not have a specific hand/side/brain lobe that I favor over the other. I do not do all tasks equally well with both hands. One is usually more fine tuned than the other. I used to be able to write equally well with both. In second grade, in Catholic School, I was told that I would never achieve satisfactory penmanship unless I focused my writing energy on only one hand. Therefore, I would receive Cs in Penmanship until I picked a hand. ... And I had to pick the right. This is why, 90% of the time, I am to be seen writing with my right hand. My left hand is out of practice, but it still knows what it's doing. Here's something that fascinates me: I can write with my left with equal speed and clarity to my right, as long as I don't realize that I'm using my left hand. I have had many instances where I have been writing something with my left hand, and the thought occured to me: "Oh! I'm using my left hand!" and then my writing immediately deteriorates. It's one of my goals in life to rebuild my writing ability in my left hand.
6. Aldactone. This is the latest prescription drug that I have added to my daily regimine. This brings my total to five, though I take seven individual pills a day. It's actually a blood pressure medicine, but I take it to combat my excessive swarthiness due to the high levels of testosterone that my cystic ovaries produce. Whoo boy am I somatically fucked up! This is the first medication in a while that I've taken for what is, largely, a cosmetic issue. But it's important enough to me to suffer through the past few weeks of side effects while my body adapts to it. (These side effects include dips in my already low blood pressure and dizziness.) I have also taken other medications that start with A, including: Alesse, Atenolol, Allegra, and good old Advil.
7. Apple trees. I like apples. And since I was a small child I have been fascinated with the idea of having my very own apple tree. Or any fruit-bearing plant, but mostly apple. I have tried many times with little success to grow apple plants from seeds. Of course, these experiments were never monitored by someone who knew what she was doing (i.e. my mom) so I usually wound up drowning them. Turns out you shouldn't water plants every day. Who knew! I'm currently in the middle of my latest and most earnest attempt. I have five seedlings in a numbered row sitting on my sun porch. They are each about five inches tall. I also have a "cutting" that I kinda sorta stole from a tree at the Home Depot that I am trying to root in some soil. That's not going so swell. Anyway, not only do trees take a long time to grow, but apples are particularly fussy, and they require two separate individuals in order to produce fruit. My yard doesn't have the room for one apple tree, let alone two, but that's okay. I imagine that if my attempts are successful that I will carry my fledging trees around with me wherever I move, and I will plant them when I find the place I want to be my home.
8. Allie. Allie was my German Shepard. Because we didn't have enough people with "A" names already, we had to give them to our pets as well. Allie (her given name was Alexis) was bred to be a show dog in Mississippi. My sister got her when she was living in West Milford with some of the money she was awarded after being in a horrible car accident. Then she moved back home, and Allie moved with her. After a life of nothing but cats, we had to adjust to living with an ENORMOUS canine. She was 105 pounds, solidly fit. Despite being a cat person through and through, I loved Allie very much. I used to sit on the floor and hand feed her Kibbles 'N' Bits. She especially liked the cheese pieces. My perception of animals is sometimes unfortunately skewed. My neighbor had a Dalmatian named Ted who lived to be 17 years old. This meant that even though I knew intellectually that he was an exception, I was still shocked and confused when Allie developed a brain tumor at the age of ten. Allie is also the reason that most "big dogs" don't impress me very much. Eh. He's not that big. When you're eight years old and a dog stands on her back legs and you stare up at her towering over you, you're forever spoiled for size. Allie was an awesome dog. My sister wants to get another German Shepard. She says she'll know her when she sees her. I am fully in favor of this.
9. Annie. Not the girl. The movie, starring Aileen Quinn, Carol Burnett, and Albert Finney. Annie was my very first hardcore obsession. By the time I hit kindergarten I knew it word for word and sang the songs daily. Which of course did not deter me from also watching it daily. I directed my friends so that we would put on mini Annie-plays during the day. While it doesn't have the same cultural fluency as the Simpsons or Buffy, it was the precursor to all those entertainment loves. It set the tone and the pattern and also my love for redheaded heroines (others including Anne Shirley, Pippilotta Longstocking, and Strawberry Shortcake). This is probably the reason that there's still a part of me that desperately wants to be a redhead. Mr. Warbucks prefers redheaded children.
10. Accord. I drive a white 1995 Honda Accord. It's the car of choice for young and useless people. I don't really like it, and I wasn't thrilled to get it. Of course, I don't really like driving, so that could be a big part of it. And also the major headaches that were going on in my life around the time that I acquired it. I named my car Nerwin, because it was the very first name that came to me. I don't know what that means. Nerwin and I have a fairly neutral relationship. She gets me between points in efficient time and I've yet to die or be seriously injured. Right now Nerwin needs some gas and a trip to the car wash.
Wednesday
Sunday
I've been up to stuff!
I am in the midst of a six-day weekend, my friends. It's pretty awesome! I mean, I have activities planned for every day, but just the fact that I'm not going to work makes it highly enjoyable. If they didn't pay me, I don't think I'd go. Which, on one level: hah hah, but I believe that a worthwhile goal would be to exclusively do activities about which that is not true.
My mother and I took up the carpet in the dining room. (Because: CARPET IN A DINING ROOM. WHAT THE HELL.) It went okay! It was labor intensive.
Today we went to New York (only I managed to refer to it as "going into town") to see a play written by ejbronte of the WD. It was pretty good! Much better than I expected, really. Some, but not all, of the acting was very good, and the production values were decidely professional. They had some trouble with the lighting, though. And they spent twenty minutes at intermission trying to fix the problem. They should have just rolled with it. The important part, the writing, was crisp and clever. I was very impressed. And I also got to meet the lady herself (#72), who was nothing at all like I expected. She's very small and effervescent and full of smiles.
I considered writing this on the board, but I honestly did think anyone cared. The most important thing, though, is that I did *not* meet anyone who I would have had to punch in the neck. This is something that I have to worry about when I go into town, and at this locale the danger was slightly elevated. Although I probably never had to worry.
Then I went out to dinner with my mother at a restaurant on 46th called "No Pants." Okay, not really. It was called Le Sans Culottes, but I prefer to think of it as "No Pants." ... The name was the bulk of the reason we wound up going there. But the food was delicious. I had duck and creme brulee. And 3/4 a glass of red wine, which means that I was totally drunk. Possibly close to shit-faced. But I held it together. Mostly by reminding myself that the situation made me so incredibly lame. And then I bought four bottles of tea! Joy!!
Oh, also I watched the Lost finale. But you know that.
Tomorrow we will work on the floor some more.
On Tuesday I will be photographed for a multimedia project.
Last night I was inspired to write all sorts of things, but I was very tired and opted against writing any of it down. Instead, I just thought about it until I fell asleep, which means that I may have worked it out of my system, which means I will probably never write about those things. Or maybe I will! But probably not.
My mother and I took up the carpet in the dining room. (Because: CARPET IN A DINING ROOM. WHAT THE HELL.) It went okay! It was labor intensive.
Today we went to New York (only I managed to refer to it as "going into town") to see a play written by ejbronte of the WD. It was pretty good! Much better than I expected, really. Some, but not all, of the acting was very good, and the production values were decidely professional. They had some trouble with the lighting, though. And they spent twenty minutes at intermission trying to fix the problem. They should have just rolled with it. The important part, the writing, was crisp and clever. I was very impressed. And I also got to meet the lady herself (#72), who was nothing at all like I expected. She's very small and effervescent and full of smiles.
I considered writing this on the board, but I honestly did think anyone cared. The most important thing, though, is that I did *not* meet anyone who I would have had to punch in the neck. This is something that I have to worry about when I go into town, and at this locale the danger was slightly elevated. Although I probably never had to worry.
Then I went out to dinner with my mother at a restaurant on 46th called "No Pants." Okay, not really. It was called Le Sans Culottes, but I prefer to think of it as "No Pants." ... The name was the bulk of the reason we wound up going there. But the food was delicious. I had duck and creme brulee. And 3/4 a glass of red wine, which means that I was totally drunk. Possibly close to shit-faced. But I held it together. Mostly by reminding myself that the situation made me so incredibly lame. And then I bought four bottles of tea! Joy!!
Oh, also I watched the Lost finale. But you know that.
Tomorrow we will work on the floor some more.
On Tuesday I will be photographed for a multimedia project.
Last night I was inspired to write all sorts of things, but I was very tired and opted against writing any of it down. Instead, I just thought about it until I fell asleep, which means that I may have worked it out of my system, which means I will probably never write about those things. Or maybe I will! But probably not.
Saturday
I totally watched Lost tonight.
These are the things that I currently think, that condition being true:
[Begin Spoiler for Lost Season 2 Finale — Highlight to view]
That finale was better than 98% of the entire season that preceeded it. Seriously. Which is a compliment, really. Except for all the ways in which it isn't, I guess. But, seriously. It rocked quite hard.
Desmond's girlfriend needs to work on her accent if she wants to come back next season. Also, what?! Luckily, I have the whole thing taped, so if I need to, I can watch certain parts again. Which I may do. But not now. So there will be many question marks and vague trailing sentences in this post. But the name of his girlfriend's father ... sounds very familiar. Like maybe I read it when I followed that link to the Hanso Foundation site? I'm not sure. But if this man with too much time and money winds up being one of the higher-ups in this project, I will not be surprised.
The answer was magnets!! Or was it fate! No, it was magnets. Fated magnets! Magnets or fate?
I knew that Henry was the leader of the Others. And by knew I mean "had a feeling." (Magnets or fate?) Even though he is much, much shorter than the guy with the beard. Or rather, the guy without the beard. The ever continuing mystery of the Others continues to be mysterious. They're the good guys? I don't think so. If for no other reason than guys who talk about themselves while pretending that they're talking about someone else ("He is a great man, but he is not a forgiving man.") are always assholes. Always .
My brain is still trying to figure out why Jack, Kate, and Sawyer. Maybe the Others want them to knock off the love triangle shit, because even they find it boring. But working from what we assume is the Others' perspective, breaking people down into good and bad, Kate and Sawyer are probably two of the worst people on the island. Definitely bad. Hurley threw me, because he seems like a good person. And he was let go, so that follows. What about Jack, though? Did he ever do anything immoral or illegal that I'm forgetting about? Because Jack is occasionally a complete tool, but I don't think that's a crime.
They clearly didn't want to round up the good ones. Or Locke would have been there. They couldn't have been rounding up the bad ones, because Sayid would definitely be in there. Maybe they wanted Jack because he is Leader. But then again, Locke and Sayid (in my opinion) should also be there. Sayid's like the Secretary of Defense. Sawyer's Commerce. Kate's like, Interior, at best.
But Hurley gets to go back and tell everyone what happened. What will he say? Will he form a plan of rescue? Will he tell Sayid, is what I'm saying. Also, did he notice that the Others seem to know how to get away from the island? And that they just ... blurted that out? Michael wins! He gets to go home with his new fucked up conscience. Damn. They must have cut the scene where Michael wished to get Walt back on a monkey's paw. Although wouldn't it be funny if they lied? And when September rolls around Michael swerves right back to the island, and there's boatloads of awkwardness for everyone? The Others don't have cable, remember. They have to keep entertained somehow.
I hope Charlie makes up with Locke like he made up with Claire. I really liked them together.
Also, is Locke dead? Is Eko dead? Is Desmond dead? What, exactly, was that thing? I get that, metaphorically, it was the Key, and Self-Sacrifice is the Key, but, on a technical level, if we assume that Desmond is dead, then why wouldn't Charlie also be dead? Why wouldn't everyone on the island be dead? Because if its fucking-shit-up range extends so far that everyone had to cower and tremble at the might, why was its fatality range only "under the trapdoor"? Unless Desmond isn't actually dead. Like he wins the prize, or something. (Magnets or fate?)
Here's an actual thing that I said out loud: "Libby means Elizabeth!" Aww. I'm so cute. Maybe now that Libby is dead, she'll show up in everyone's flashbacks, like Jack's father.
In general, excellent episode. And I got to see it commercial-free!
[End Spoiler]
[Begin Spoiler for Lost Season 2 Finale — Highlight to view]
That finale was better than 98% of the entire season that preceeded it. Seriously. Which is a compliment, really. Except for all the ways in which it isn't, I guess. But, seriously. It rocked quite hard.
Desmond's girlfriend needs to work on her accent if she wants to come back next season. Also, what?! Luckily, I have the whole thing taped, so if I need to, I can watch certain parts again. Which I may do. But not now. So there will be many question marks and vague trailing sentences in this post. But the name of his girlfriend's father ... sounds very familiar. Like maybe I read it when I followed that link to the Hanso Foundation site? I'm not sure. But if this man with too much time and money winds up being one of the higher-ups in this project, I will not be surprised.
The answer was magnets!! Or was it fate! No, it was magnets. Fated magnets! Magnets or fate?
I knew that Henry was the leader of the Others. And by knew I mean "had a feeling." (Magnets or fate?) Even though he is much, much shorter than the guy with the beard. Or rather, the guy without the beard. The ever continuing mystery of the Others continues to be mysterious. They're the good guys? I don't think so. If for no other reason than guys who talk about themselves while pretending that they're talking about someone else ("He is a great man, but he is not a forgiving man.") are always assholes. Always .
My brain is still trying to figure out why Jack, Kate, and Sawyer. Maybe the Others want them to knock off the love triangle shit, because even they find it boring. But working from what we assume is the Others' perspective, breaking people down into good and bad, Kate and Sawyer are probably two of the worst people on the island. Definitely bad. Hurley threw me, because he seems like a good person. And he was let go, so that follows. What about Jack, though? Did he ever do anything immoral or illegal that I'm forgetting about? Because Jack is occasionally a complete tool, but I don't think that's a crime.
They clearly didn't want to round up the good ones. Or Locke would have been there. They couldn't have been rounding up the bad ones, because Sayid would definitely be in there. Maybe they wanted Jack because he is Leader. But then again, Locke and Sayid (in my opinion) should also be there. Sayid's like the Secretary of Defense. Sawyer's Commerce. Kate's like, Interior, at best.
But Hurley gets to go back and tell everyone what happened. What will he say? Will he form a plan of rescue? Will he tell Sayid, is what I'm saying. Also, did he notice that the Others seem to know how to get away from the island? And that they just ... blurted that out? Michael wins! He gets to go home with his new fucked up conscience. Damn. They must have cut the scene where Michael wished to get Walt back on a monkey's paw. Although wouldn't it be funny if they lied? And when September rolls around Michael swerves right back to the island, and there's boatloads of awkwardness for everyone? The Others don't have cable, remember. They have to keep entertained somehow.
I hope Charlie makes up with Locke like he made up with Claire. I really liked them together.
Also, is Locke dead? Is Eko dead? Is Desmond dead? What, exactly, was that thing? I get that, metaphorically, it was the Key, and Self-Sacrifice is the Key, but, on a technical level, if we assume that Desmond is dead, then why wouldn't Charlie also be dead? Why wouldn't everyone on the island be dead? Because if its fucking-shit-up range extends so far that everyone had to cower and tremble at the might, why was its fatality range only "under the trapdoor"? Unless Desmond isn't actually dead. Like he wins the prize, or something. (Magnets or fate?)
Here's an actual thing that I said out loud: "Libby means Elizabeth!" Aww. I'm so cute. Maybe now that Libby is dead, she'll show up in everyone's flashbacks, like Jack's father.
In general, excellent episode. And I got to see it commercial-free!
[End Spoiler]
I have been "tagged."
I think that's what the kids call it! I thought that meant graffiti! In other words, Caz suggested that I do this.
5 Snacks you enjoy
1. Honeydew melon
2. Applesauce
3. Cheerios with honey
4. Matzo
5. Terra chips
5 Songs (you think) you know by heart
1. Misty Mountain Hop - Led Zeppelin (although, really, I could have picked any song here)
2. Happy Birthday - Anonymous
3. Livin' On A Prayer - Bon Jovi
4. Levon - Elton John
5. Maybe Sparrow - Neko Case
5 Things you would do with a LOT of money
1. "So long student loan payments!"
2. Exchange my car for a Toyota Prius.
3. Obtain a flat abroad for my mother.
4. Get in good with all the right people.
5. Tell everyone that I'm taking time to focus on my art, whatever the hell I mean by that.
5 Things you would never wear
1. Pants with something written across the ass.
2. A sports jersey.
3. Jeans that create a roll of flesh at the hip-level.
4. Fur.
5. Jewelry with my name on it.
5 Things you should never have worn
1. White stretch pants.
2. Sports bras under clothes (In sixth grade, I got handed a whole lot of boob, and I had no idea what to do with it).
3. Keds, that one time.
4. Terrycloth shorts.
5. Anything my father ever bought me.
5 Things you enjoy doing
1. Sleeping.
2. Acting.
3. Sitting in front of a glowing electronic box.
4. Crosstitch.
5. Being excellent.
5 Bad habits you have
1. Procrastinating, procrastinating, procrastinating.
2. Imagining my own horrible death to the extent that it diminishes my social activities.
3. Not confronting people or issues.
4. Not establishing a history of credit. Which is not to say that I have bad credit; I don't have any credit.
5. Not eating a varied and nutritious diet, thereby robbing my body of essential nutrients, or so I would imagine.
5 people you would like to do this
1. Anyone who wants to.
2. I don't really like singling people out, because they may not be into that.
3. Also, it was pretty hard to come up with things, and I don't want to put that kind of pressure on people.
4. But anyone who thinks they would find it enjoyable should go for it.
5. So if you'd like, you can pretend I put your name in this slot.
5 Snacks you enjoy
1. Honeydew melon
2. Applesauce
3. Cheerios with honey
4. Matzo
5. Terra chips
5 Songs (you think) you know by heart
1. Misty Mountain Hop - Led Zeppelin (although, really, I could have picked any song here)
2. Happy Birthday - Anonymous
3. Livin' On A Prayer - Bon Jovi
4. Levon - Elton John
5. Maybe Sparrow - Neko Case
5 Things you would do with a LOT of money
1. "So long student loan payments!"
2. Exchange my car for a Toyota Prius.
3. Obtain a flat abroad for my mother.
4. Get in good with all the right people.
5. Tell everyone that I'm taking time to focus on my art, whatever the hell I mean by that.
5 Things you would never wear
1. Pants with something written across the ass.
2. A sports jersey.
3. Jeans that create a roll of flesh at the hip-level.
4. Fur.
5. Jewelry with my name on it.
5 Things you should never have worn
1. White stretch pants.
2. Sports bras under clothes (In sixth grade, I got handed a whole lot of boob, and I had no idea what to do with it).
3. Keds, that one time.
4. Terrycloth shorts.
5. Anything my father ever bought me.
5 Things you enjoy doing
1. Sleeping.
2. Acting.
3. Sitting in front of a glowing electronic box.
4. Crosstitch.
5. Being excellent.
5 Bad habits you have
1. Procrastinating, procrastinating, procrastinating.
2. Imagining my own horrible death to the extent that it diminishes my social activities.
3. Not confronting people or issues.
4. Not establishing a history of credit. Which is not to say that I have bad credit; I don't have any credit.
5. Not eating a varied and nutritious diet, thereby robbing my body of essential nutrients, or so I would imagine.
5 people you would like to do this
1. Anyone who wants to.
2. I don't really like singling people out, because they may not be into that.
3. Also, it was pretty hard to come up with things, and I don't want to put that kind of pressure on people.
4. But anyone who thinks they would find it enjoyable should go for it.
5. So if you'd like, you can pretend I put your name in this slot.
Thursday
This entry is about Veronica Mars.
Kirk would be so happy. I mean, he would be if this weren't the exact same thing I already discussed with him in email. I added more thoughts, though!
[Begin Spoiler for "Not Pictured" - Season 2 Finale — Highlight to view]
I am of two minds about this episode. On the one hand, it was jaw-dropping and all around awesome. And I was very entertained. On the other hand, it was completely unbelievable.
Beaver blew up the bus. And killed Curly. And raped Veronica. Holy shit. And also: bullshit. I mean, I accept the outcome, because it makes sense from the evidence. It's clear that Beaver was always the killer, and this is what they've been building towards and hint dropping about. Plotwise, they did a bang up job. In the sense of character? It was ridiculously inconsistent.
I really liked the Beav. And the reason I did is because, as written and as acted, he was very complex, but seemed like a pretty decent person. He did not seem like a completely remorseless sociopath. And here is my thing: if he's really always been such a bastard, why didn't we ever get a glipse of that? Some outburst of aggression or nastiness that would seem out of character, but that you could look back on and say, "Oh yeah, remember that?" I don't buy that his normal demeanor was a facade. If they had given an indication of that, I would be okay. It's not that I don't accept Beaver as the killer, it's just that I don't accept the character that they've created as the killer.
Alternatively, I could have bought it if he'd been a lot more conflicted, and probably a little crazier. The boy who cried out, "My name is Cassidy!" before deciding to throw himself off a building seems compatible with the Beaver that I've seen all season. But he wasn't consistent with the Beaver of the entire preceeding scene.
My problem with this gelled in one specific scene: the flashback where Beaver hits Curly with his car. And then scribbles on his corpse. And dumps the body of a cliff. I didn't believe it. It looked ridiculous. It looked silly. What was great about the first season finale was that I did not see the reveal coming, and my reaction was: "Oh my God, of course!" Because even though I wouldn't have pegged Aaron as a murderer, it made perfect sense. At this reveal, my gut reaction was completely different: "Oh, there's no way!"
Here are some other minor issues. In the TWoP recap of "Plan B", guest reviewer Jacob, whom I freaking love, immediately got the vibe that Beaver had been molested. I don't want to know how he figured that out, because it was definitely not a conclusion that I jumped to. But he was right, clearly. What wound up bothering me afterwards was semi-logic of television that followed: Beaver was molested as a kid. Woody molested kids. Therefore, Woody must have molested Beaver. In a similar way: Veronica contracted chylamidia. Woody had chylamidia. Therefore there must be a direct link between Woody and Veronica. I mean, I get that these points never would have been brought up if they didn't relate to other plot points. It's not real life, it's television. But for some reason, I found these two things annoying.
I was impressed at the death of Aaron Echolls, and I was quietly excited to see Wiedman pull the trigger. However, my immediate thought was that Jake Kane had sent him. (Kirk pointed out that last year, he did vow to kill Aaron.) But it was Duncan. I like my idea better. I guess they had to use Duncan in the scene to round out his arc, or maybe they couldn't get the parents back for this episode, but I can't think of anything, storywise, that wouldn't make Jake a more satisfying option. Also, this must mean that Wiedman, and therefore Ma and Pa Kane know of Duncan's whereabouts. So what's going on with that?
I knew that Keith wasn't dead. Because I knew that the plane was going to blow up as soon as Woody got on it. And they never showed the plane taking off with Keith inside. It was predictable, but not in the sense that I was unhappy with it. I felt the thrill of anticipation, and the drama was well played out. I just knew how it was going to end.
I found it pleasantly entertaining that Kendall wound up on top at the end. Of course, alarmingly, it seems that she was actually the least reprehensible of all the Casablancases. ...Unless you want to bestow that honor on Dick. It's so fucked up, it's great. Of course, what is the deal with her and Aaron, please? It's pretty certain that she could never have gotten out of the suite before Aaron was shot, and it's even possible that she saw Wiedman there. But she seemed most unphased. I wish I knew what was up with that. But I'm actually happy to think that, assuming there's a third season, it looks like Kendall is going to play a large part in it.
Despite some nitpicks and the one large criticism, I thought the episode was great. I'm repeating that just in case I sound too angry. The first season finale was better, though. The first season, period, was better. I cannot agree with people who say otherwise. Bigger shocks do not equal better stories.
Lastly, I kind of love Jackie. This is bizarre, because when she first showed up, I hated Jackie. And Tessa Thompson's acting. "Acting." I don't know what kind of spiritual experience that girl had, but her improvement is proof that miracles happen. I hope this is not the last that we've seen of her. Poor tiny Wallace.
[End Spoiler]
[Begin Spoiler for "Not Pictured" - Season 2 Finale — Highlight to view]
I am of two minds about this episode. On the one hand, it was jaw-dropping and all around awesome. And I was very entertained. On the other hand, it was completely unbelievable.
Beaver blew up the bus. And killed Curly. And raped Veronica. Holy shit. And also: bullshit. I mean, I accept the outcome, because it makes sense from the evidence. It's clear that Beaver was always the killer, and this is what they've been building towards and hint dropping about. Plotwise, they did a bang up job. In the sense of character? It was ridiculously inconsistent.
I really liked the Beav. And the reason I did is because, as written and as acted, he was very complex, but seemed like a pretty decent person. He did not seem like a completely remorseless sociopath. And here is my thing: if he's really always been such a bastard, why didn't we ever get a glipse of that? Some outburst of aggression or nastiness that would seem out of character, but that you could look back on and say, "Oh yeah, remember that?" I don't buy that his normal demeanor was a facade. If they had given an indication of that, I would be okay. It's not that I don't accept Beaver as the killer, it's just that I don't accept the character that they've created as the killer.
Alternatively, I could have bought it if he'd been a lot more conflicted, and probably a little crazier. The boy who cried out, "My name is Cassidy!" before deciding to throw himself off a building seems compatible with the Beaver that I've seen all season. But he wasn't consistent with the Beaver of the entire preceeding scene.
My problem with this gelled in one specific scene: the flashback where Beaver hits Curly with his car. And then scribbles on his corpse. And dumps the body of a cliff. I didn't believe it. It looked ridiculous. It looked silly. What was great about the first season finale was that I did not see the reveal coming, and my reaction was: "Oh my God, of course!" Because even though I wouldn't have pegged Aaron as a murderer, it made perfect sense. At this reveal, my gut reaction was completely different: "Oh, there's no way!"
Here are some other minor issues. In the TWoP recap of "Plan B", guest reviewer Jacob, whom I freaking love, immediately got the vibe that Beaver had been molested. I don't want to know how he figured that out, because it was definitely not a conclusion that I jumped to. But he was right, clearly. What wound up bothering me afterwards was semi-logic of television that followed: Beaver was molested as a kid. Woody molested kids. Therefore, Woody must have molested Beaver. In a similar way: Veronica contracted chylamidia. Woody had chylamidia. Therefore there must be a direct link between Woody and Veronica. I mean, I get that these points never would have been brought up if they didn't relate to other plot points. It's not real life, it's television. But for some reason, I found these two things annoying.
I was impressed at the death of Aaron Echolls, and I was quietly excited to see Wiedman pull the trigger. However, my immediate thought was that Jake Kane had sent him. (Kirk pointed out that last year, he did vow to kill Aaron.) But it was Duncan. I like my idea better. I guess they had to use Duncan in the scene to round out his arc, or maybe they couldn't get the parents back for this episode, but I can't think of anything, storywise, that wouldn't make Jake a more satisfying option. Also, this must mean that Wiedman, and therefore Ma and Pa Kane know of Duncan's whereabouts. So what's going on with that?
I knew that Keith wasn't dead. Because I knew that the plane was going to blow up as soon as Woody got on it. And they never showed the plane taking off with Keith inside. It was predictable, but not in the sense that I was unhappy with it. I felt the thrill of anticipation, and the drama was well played out. I just knew how it was going to end.
I found it pleasantly entertaining that Kendall wound up on top at the end. Of course, alarmingly, it seems that she was actually the least reprehensible of all the Casablancases. ...Unless you want to bestow that honor on Dick. It's so fucked up, it's great. Of course, what is the deal with her and Aaron, please? It's pretty certain that she could never have gotten out of the suite before Aaron was shot, and it's even possible that she saw Wiedman there. But she seemed most unphased. I wish I knew what was up with that. But I'm actually happy to think that, assuming there's a third season, it looks like Kendall is going to play a large part in it.
Despite some nitpicks and the one large criticism, I thought the episode was great. I'm repeating that just in case I sound too angry. The first season finale was better, though. The first season, period, was better. I cannot agree with people who say otherwise. Bigger shocks do not equal better stories.
Lastly, I kind of love Jackie. This is bizarre, because when she first showed up, I hated Jackie. And Tessa Thompson's acting. "Acting." I don't know what kind of spiritual experience that girl had, but her improvement is proof that miracles happen. I hope this is not the last that we've seen of her. Poor tiny Wallace.
[End Spoiler]
Friday
That was the worst funeral I've ever been to.
Um. Heh. Remember how I mentioned how I haven't felt like talking?
It passed. Or I broke it. I feel like a weight lifted off. And now I'm Chatty Cathy.
... She said, in a very short entry.
Seriously though, I feel a lot better right now. Even though things still suck a little bit? I'm working through it.
It passed. Or I broke it. I feel like a weight lifted off. And now I'm Chatty Cathy.
... She said, in a very short entry.
Seriously though, I feel a lot better right now. Even though things still suck a little bit? I'm working through it.
Tuesday
Oh boy oh boy.
I would like to announce that I have emerged, technologically speaking, from the dark murky atmosphere of the early 2000s, and have landed myself firmly in the middle 2000s. With my brand new broadband connection.
Heee. It's pretty sweet. Look at how fast it goes! Wheeeeee!
My computer is still slow, though. Slow like a South American tree beast. ... By which I guess I mean a sloth. I have no intentions of getting a new one, though. But I would like to look into how I can frankencomputer what I have. That sounds like good times.
Also, in NON-ELECTRONIC news, I went outside this weekend. A little tardy of Arbor Day, I planted a tree. In the process, I managed to get some impressive and alarming sunburn almost entirely on my left arm. Here are some pictures! I must stress that the photographs do not do justice to the vibrant, blood red color. Seriously, I couldn't even look at it.
Picture 1 (If you're wondering what the hell this meat hank is, it's my upper arm, from shoulder to a bit below the elbow. I'm turning it slightly to get the best view.)
Picture 2 (This is more recognizable as an arm, though the color is not as striking. Also, that's my bed! I was getting ready for sleeping.)
When I woke up in the morning, it was about 80% better. And now, I'm lightly tanned. This is what happens in life when you're half Mediterranean.
In conclusion ... high-speed! I can't wait to watch some streaming video!
Heee. It's pretty sweet. Look at how fast it goes! Wheeeeee!
My computer is still slow, though. Slow like a South American tree beast. ... By which I guess I mean a sloth. I have no intentions of getting a new one, though. But I would like to look into how I can frankencomputer what I have. That sounds like good times.
Also, in NON-ELECTRONIC news, I went outside this weekend. A little tardy of Arbor Day, I planted a tree. In the process, I managed to get some impressive and alarming sunburn almost entirely on my left arm. Here are some pictures! I must stress that the photographs do not do justice to the vibrant, blood red color. Seriously, I couldn't even look at it.
Picture 1 (If you're wondering what the hell this meat hank is, it's my upper arm, from shoulder to a bit below the elbow. I'm turning it slightly to get the best view.)
Picture 2 (This is more recognizable as an arm, though the color is not as striking. Also, that's my bed! I was getting ready for sleeping.)
When I woke up in the morning, it was about 80% better. And now, I'm lightly tanned. This is what happens in life when you're half Mediterranean.
In conclusion ... high-speed! I can't wait to watch some streaming video!
Thursday
Revealed!
Here are the answers to my mystery songs. I won't be pointing out who won, though. You know who you are. And you all get a gold star for playing. However, on further thought, I'll bold the ones that no one got. Different!
1. Someday I'll Be Saturday Night - Bon Jovi
2. She's Electric - Oasis
3. People's Parties - Joni Mitchell
4. Cellophane - Amanda Ghost
5. Ride Into The Sun - The Velvet Underground
6. We're Gonna Groove - Led Zeppelin
7. My Beautiful Sinking Ship - Devics
8. She's On Fire - Train (Lauren, didn't you have the lyrics for this in your bio once?)
9. All You Wanted - Michelle Branch (Kirk! Seriously!)
10. The Wrath Of Hermione - Harry And The Potters
11. You Keep Me Here - Milla Jovovich (I didn't expect anyone to know this.)
12. More Sweet Soul - Pretty Girls Make Graves (Or this.)
13. Watch Out - crushing velvet (Or this.)
14. We Belong - Pat Benatar
15. A Day In The Life - The Beatles (but it was an alternate take! HA!)
16. Jack The Ripper - Colin Meloy (orig. Morrisey)
17. The Silver Swan - Orlando Gibbons (I'm guessing no one did madrigals in school)
18. The Girl I Love (She Got Long Black Wavy Hair) - Led Zeppelin (Seriously.)
19. Holler - The Spice Girls (... Yep.)
20. Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying - Belle And Sebastian
In an unrelated story, I have a question. If we keep cutting down all the trees, then why does the pollen get worse every year? My face is a mass of swollen soft tissues and mucus and disgustingness and unattractiveness. But the good news is that I look better than I feel. Oy vey.
And furthermore, while I haven't been talking about it that much (to my dear friend Kirk's petulant dismay), I have been watching Veronica Mars. And it has been good. It has been good until recently, when my local UPN affiliate decided that they were going to preempt it for what-the-hell-ever basketball playoff sport ... thingie is going on right now. I don't really care about basketball, people, but my feelings are beginning to move into active dislike. From what I can tell from the internet, since the big CW announcement, WWOR has become affiliated with "My" programming, which is owned by Fox. They've even switched all their logos to say "My9" and all this. Some have posited that since UPN is going to leave them high and dry in a few months that they really don't care about UPN's programming anymore. I guess. Whatever. I wrote their programming department (hi Pat!) a strongly worded email.
The internet also tells me that they should air this week's episode at 7PM on Sunday. Maybe. We'll see. Blaah.
1. Someday I'll Be Saturday Night - Bon Jovi
2. She's Electric - Oasis
3. People's Parties - Joni Mitchell
4. Cellophane - Amanda Ghost
5. Ride Into The Sun - The Velvet Underground
6. We're Gonna Groove - Led Zeppelin
7. My Beautiful Sinking Ship - Devics
8. She's On Fire - Train (Lauren, didn't you have the lyrics for this in your bio once?)
9. All You Wanted - Michelle Branch (Kirk! Seriously!)
10. The Wrath Of Hermione - Harry And The Potters
11. You Keep Me Here - Milla Jovovich (I didn't expect anyone to know this.)
12. More Sweet Soul - Pretty Girls Make Graves (Or this.)
13. Watch Out - crushing velvet (Or this.)
14. We Belong - Pat Benatar
15. A Day In The Life - The Beatles (but it was an alternate take! HA!)
16. Jack The Ripper - Colin Meloy (orig. Morrisey)
17. The Silver Swan - Orlando Gibbons (I'm guessing no one did madrigals in school)
18. The Girl I Love (She Got Long Black Wavy Hair) - Led Zeppelin (Seriously.)
19. Holler - The Spice Girls (... Yep.)
20. Get Me Away From Here, I'm Dying - Belle And Sebastian
In an unrelated story, I have a question. If we keep cutting down all the trees, then why does the pollen get worse every year? My face is a mass of swollen soft tissues and mucus and disgustingness and unattractiveness. But the good news is that I look better than I feel. Oy vey.
And furthermore, while I haven't been talking about it that much (to my dear friend Kirk's petulant dismay), I have been watching Veronica Mars. And it has been good. It has been good until recently, when my local UPN affiliate decided that they were going to preempt it for what-the-hell-ever basketball playoff sport ... thingie is going on right now. I don't really care about basketball, people, but my feelings are beginning to move into active dislike. From what I can tell from the internet, since the big CW announcement, WWOR has become affiliated with "My" programming, which is owned by Fox. They've even switched all their logos to say "My9" and all this. Some have posited that since UPN is going to leave them high and dry in a few months that they really don't care about UPN's programming anymore. I guess. Whatever. I wrote their programming department (hi Pat!) a strongly worded email.
The internet also tells me that they should air this week's episode at 7PM on Sunday. Maybe. We'll see. Blaah.
Oh alright! I'll do it.
Step 1: Put your MP3 player or whatever on random.
Step 2: Post the first line from the first 20 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing the song.
Step 3: Post and let everyone you know guess what song and artist the lines come from.
AND DON'T CHEAT!!!
1. Hey, man, I'm alive, I'm taking each day and night at a time.
2. She's electric, she's in a family full of eccentrics.
3. All the people at this party, they've got a lot of style.
4. Nobody moves me, I've been through this life with no place that I can call my own.
5. Looking for another place, someone else to be.
6. Hear my baby coming down the track, betcha my baby's coming back.
7. This is it, toe the line, we barely made it back this time.
8. Well this is just between us, but between us, let's get high.
9. I wanted to be like you, I wanted everything.
10. Rita Skeeter better shut her mouth before she gets in trouble.
11. It takes me years to come down to the door.
12. Headaches, handshakes, little blue pills to take.
13. Alone in the dark, I've been blowing off sparks.
14. Many times I tried to tell you, many times I cried alone.
15. I read the news today, oh boy.
16. Oh, you look so tired, mouth slack and wide.
17. The silver swan, who living had no note, when death approached unlocked her silent throat.
18. Oh, the girl I love, she got long black wavy hair.
19. I wanna make you holler.
20. Oh, get me away from here, I'm dying.
900+ songs, and apparently 2 and a half days worth of music, and here we are. I skipped over instrumentals, which came up 2 times. Number 16 is not by the original artist, if that helps (?). At least one of these is so easy I almost skipped it for the sake of complicating things. A few of them, to be honest, I wouldn't even know if I hadn't written this. Only one of these really embarrassed me, but I was so suprised that I had it that it turned into amusement instead.
In other news, I have desperately wanted to change my blog layout for months, but I can't get myself motivated to do anything about it.
Step 2: Post the first line from the first 20 songs that play, no matter how embarrassing the song.
Step 3: Post and let everyone you know guess what song and artist the lines come from.
AND DON'T CHEAT!!!
1. Hey, man, I'm alive, I'm taking each day and night at a time.
2. She's electric, she's in a family full of eccentrics.
3. All the people at this party, they've got a lot of style.
4. Nobody moves me, I've been through this life with no place that I can call my own.
5. Looking for another place, someone else to be.
6. Hear my baby coming down the track, betcha my baby's coming back.
7. This is it, toe the line, we barely made it back this time.
8. Well this is just between us, but between us, let's get high.
9. I wanted to be like you, I wanted everything.
10. Rita Skeeter better shut her mouth before she gets in trouble.
11. It takes me years to come down to the door.
12. Headaches, handshakes, little blue pills to take.
13. Alone in the dark, I've been blowing off sparks.
14. Many times I tried to tell you, many times I cried alone.
15. I read the news today, oh boy.
16. Oh, you look so tired, mouth slack and wide.
17. The silver swan, who living had no note, when death approached unlocked her silent throat.
18. Oh, the girl I love, she got long black wavy hair.
19. I wanna make you holler.
20. Oh, get me away from here, I'm dying.
900+ songs, and apparently 2 and a half days worth of music, and here we are. I skipped over instrumentals, which came up 2 times. Number 16 is not by the original artist, if that helps (?). At least one of these is so easy I almost skipped it for the sake of complicating things. A few of them, to be honest, I wouldn't even know if I hadn't written this. Only one of these really embarrassed me, but I was so suprised that I had it that it turned into amusement instead.
In other news, I have desperately wanted to change my blog layout for months, but I can't get myself motivated to do anything about it.
Monday
I stole this from my friend Beth.
It is what the internet calls a "meme"? I'm doing this because I like my birthday.
Instructions: Go to Wikipedia and look up your birth day (excluding the year). List three events, two births and one death in your journal, including the year.
3 Events
771 - Austrasian King Carloman dies, leaving his brother Charlemagne King of the now complete Frankish Kingdom.
1875 - Notorious New York City politician Boss Tweed escapes from prison and flees to Cuba, then Spain.
1980 - The rock group Led Zeppelin formally announce their breakup.
2 Births
1849 - Crazy Horse, Oglala Sioux chief (d. 1877)
1892 - Francisco Franco, dictator of Spain (d. 1975)
1 Death
1123 - Omar Khayyám, Persian poet, astronomer, mathematician, and philosopher
Instructions: Go to Wikipedia and look up your birth day (excluding the year). List three events, two births and one death in your journal, including the year.
3 Events
771 - Austrasian King Carloman dies, leaving his brother Charlemagne King of the now complete Frankish Kingdom.
1875 - Notorious New York City politician Boss Tweed escapes from prison and flees to Cuba, then Spain.
1980 - The rock group Led Zeppelin formally announce their breakup.
2 Births
1849 - Crazy Horse, Oglala Sioux chief (d. 1877)
1892 - Francisco Franco, dictator of Spain (d. 1975)
1 Death
1123 - Omar Khayyám, Persian poet, astronomer, mathematician, and philosopher
Saturday
Half this entry is about Harry Potter.
There are many shirts that I would like for Christmas. Or, just in general really. For example, there's a shirt I'd like to get that says "You have a friend in cheeses."
I could have gotten it today, too! Because I was near both of the two retail locations of Murray's Cheese Shop, where one can purchase this item. But I was too busy walking the streets of SoHo in the rain! And wind! My shoes were soaked. The squishing was ridiculous. It was kind of enjoyable, though. But this is the sort of thing that Phoebe should do. In my imaginary world. Only she does it uptown.
When I got home, there was hail, which was kind of great. And I had a cream soda, which was also great. However, as in most instances where I walk more than I think I will, I'm now sporting an impressive laceration on my heel.
You don't care about any of this, though! You care about the Potter.
[Begin Spoiler for My Horrible Prediction For Book Seven. — Highlight to view]
One of the twins will die. And only one.
Here is why I think this.
Ms. Rowling has put forth the general knowledge that the final book will contain multiple casualties. Oh no! There are nine Weasleys altogether. This, I think, makes the odd pretty long that all of them are going to make it through unscathed. Plus there's some foreshadowing, like Mrs. Weasley's boggart, etc.
It can't be Ron, because Ron has to marry Hermione and make, like, a thousand red-headed babies. IT'S JUST THE FACTS HERE, PEOPLE.
It can't be Ginny, because Ginny exists in this dramatic circle with Harry and his mother. A red-haired woman who loved Harry gave her life to save him when this started. When this ends, a red-haired woman who loves Harry can't also die to save him. The reason you revisit the past is to provide a different outcome. I mean, I'm seriously talking out of my ass right now, but it wouldn't feel right to have Ginny die.
It won't be Bill, because he's already been ticked for having something terrible happen to him. If he died on top of it, that would be a little much. What did Bill ever do to anyone? Likewise, Mr. Weasley. He's already been attacked and recovered. He's done on tragedy.
It might be Mrs. Weasley, but, damn, that would suck. Harry's the one with the dead parent issues. He likes the Weasleys because they don't have any of that.
It might be Charlie. Nothing's really happened to him so far. But of all the Weasleys, he's the one we've seen the least, and hence know the least. His death would lack a certain emotional resonance. Likewise with Percy. I mean, would you miss Percy at this point? It makes more sense for his arc to have some sort of epiphany and do something to redeem himself. But he's not evil, so his redemption doesn't need to include death. In my opinion, anyway.
This leaves the twins. They're done. They're goners. They've already completed the transition from children to adults. They've made a useful contribution (the joke shop) to both the plot and the world of the book. And they notoriously get away with everything. Nothing bad has ever happened to them. You know, aside from that time that they couldn't play Quidditch. But what's that? I think at least one of them is on his last lucky chance. Why do I think just one? Um. No reason, really, except that OMG WOULDN'T THAT BE SO MESSED UP?? I mean, to kill off one twin? Wouldn't that be terrible? What the fuck is the matter with me!
And if you want me to pick which one ... Fred. Because Fred is the more assertive one. And, well, it's Fred and George, isn't it? If you take out Fred, you just have "and George." It would drive home the lack just a little bit more.
Dude. So messed up.
[End Spoiler]
I could have gotten it today, too! Because I was near both of the two retail locations of Murray's Cheese Shop, where one can purchase this item. But I was too busy walking the streets of SoHo in the rain! And wind! My shoes were soaked. The squishing was ridiculous. It was kind of enjoyable, though. But this is the sort of thing that Phoebe should do. In my imaginary world. Only she does it uptown.
When I got home, there was hail, which was kind of great. And I had a cream soda, which was also great. However, as in most instances where I walk more than I think I will, I'm now sporting an impressive laceration on my heel.
You don't care about any of this, though! You care about the Potter.
[Begin Spoiler for My Horrible Prediction For Book Seven. — Highlight to view]
One of the twins will die. And only one.
Here is why I think this.
Ms. Rowling has put forth the general knowledge that the final book will contain multiple casualties. Oh no! There are nine Weasleys altogether. This, I think, makes the odd pretty long that all of them are going to make it through unscathed. Plus there's some foreshadowing, like Mrs. Weasley's boggart, etc.
It can't be Ron, because Ron has to marry Hermione and make, like, a thousand red-headed babies. IT'S JUST THE FACTS HERE, PEOPLE.
It can't be Ginny, because Ginny exists in this dramatic circle with Harry and his mother. A red-haired woman who loved Harry gave her life to save him when this started. When this ends, a red-haired woman who loves Harry can't also die to save him. The reason you revisit the past is to provide a different outcome. I mean, I'm seriously talking out of my ass right now, but it wouldn't feel right to have Ginny die.
It won't be Bill, because he's already been ticked for having something terrible happen to him. If he died on top of it, that would be a little much. What did Bill ever do to anyone? Likewise, Mr. Weasley. He's already been attacked and recovered. He's done on tragedy.
It might be Mrs. Weasley, but, damn, that would suck. Harry's the one with the dead parent issues. He likes the Weasleys because they don't have any of that.
It might be Charlie. Nothing's really happened to him so far. But of all the Weasleys, he's the one we've seen the least, and hence know the least. His death would lack a certain emotional resonance. Likewise with Percy. I mean, would you miss Percy at this point? It makes more sense for his arc to have some sort of epiphany and do something to redeem himself. But he's not evil, so his redemption doesn't need to include death. In my opinion, anyway.
This leaves the twins. They're done. They're goners. They've already completed the transition from children to adults. They've made a useful contribution (the joke shop) to both the plot and the world of the book. And they notoriously get away with everything. Nothing bad has ever happened to them. You know, aside from that time that they couldn't play Quidditch. But what's that? I think at least one of them is on his last lucky chance. Why do I think just one? Um. No reason, really, except that OMG WOULDN'T THAT BE SO MESSED UP?? I mean, to kill off one twin? Wouldn't that be terrible? What the fuck is the matter with me!
And if you want me to pick which one ... Fred. Because Fred is the more assertive one. And, well, it's Fred and George, isn't it? If you take out Fred, you just have "and George." It would drive home the lack just a little bit more.
Dude. So messed up.
[End Spoiler]
Friday
Sunday
I guess this is what I get for wanting to be a vampire.
I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I am cold. I am cold all the time . It's really rather aggravating. It has also taken a lot of getting used to.
It all started when I was radioactive and my thyroid died. It is my understanding that having no thyroid function and being very cold are related to each other. Of course, this came off the heels of my hyperthyroid function, during which time I was sweating and uncomfortable all the time. During a very hot summer in which I had no air-conditioning. So, it's nice not to be that hot anymore. But aside from that, I've always preferred the cold my entire life. I would always prefer to be a little too cold than a little too warm.
But being cold, I have discovered, sucks. A lot. I have spent the winter wandering around my house in layers of shirts and fleeces and sweatpants and socks, and even then, having ice cold hands and asking if we couldn't turn the heat up. When I'm someplace like, say, work, where I don't have the luxury of dressing like an eskimo without attracting comments and stares, I shiver my way through the day.
Right now, it's 66 degrees. Spring has sprung! (Also daylight savings - the most hateful weekend of the year.) My mother has had all the windows open which, among other things, means it's going to be time to renew my Allegra prescription. And what am I wearing right now? Sweatpants. A yellow t-shirt that says "Yes you can." And a thick fleecey pullover. ... It was chilly. I'm not wearing socks, though, which is the only sign that things are a bit different. Last night while I was lying in my flannel nightgown under flannel sheets and blankets, I began to feel "a little too warm" and I was actually thankful. I actually preferred it to feeling chilly.
All this detail is to inform you that I often feel cold. I guess you could have skipped the above paragraphs. Anyway, when I'm not busy freaking people out by laying my icy hands of death upon them (only if I know them well, I'm not odd and touchy-feely with strange persons), I've been wondering if this is how vampires would feel. Maybe? Or maybe not. Because if you're a vampire, you wouldn't produce any body heat at all, so there would be nothing to offset the coldness of your extremities. Which, I think, it why it feels so uncomfortable, because the room-temperature nature of my skin is right up against the interior of my body which, one hopes, is still around 97 degrees.
In other news, here are some things I learned this weekend. I hate Apple and iTunes. But I'm in love with Neutral Milk Hotel. Yay!
It all started when I was radioactive and my thyroid died. It is my understanding that having no thyroid function and being very cold are related to each other. Of course, this came off the heels of my hyperthyroid function, during which time I was sweating and uncomfortable all the time. During a very hot summer in which I had no air-conditioning. So, it's nice not to be that hot anymore. But aside from that, I've always preferred the cold my entire life. I would always prefer to be a little too cold than a little too warm.
But being cold, I have discovered, sucks. A lot. I have spent the winter wandering around my house in layers of shirts and fleeces and sweatpants and socks, and even then, having ice cold hands and asking if we couldn't turn the heat up. When I'm someplace like, say, work, where I don't have the luxury of dressing like an eskimo without attracting comments and stares, I shiver my way through the day.
Right now, it's 66 degrees. Spring has sprung! (Also daylight savings - the most hateful weekend of the year.) My mother has had all the windows open which, among other things, means it's going to be time to renew my Allegra prescription. And what am I wearing right now? Sweatpants. A yellow t-shirt that says "Yes you can." And a thick fleecey pullover. ... It was chilly. I'm not wearing socks, though, which is the only sign that things are a bit different. Last night while I was lying in my flannel nightgown under flannel sheets and blankets, I began to feel "a little too warm" and I was actually thankful. I actually preferred it to feeling chilly.
All this detail is to inform you that I often feel cold. I guess you could have skipped the above paragraphs. Anyway, when I'm not busy freaking people out by laying my icy hands of death upon them (only if I know them well, I'm not odd and touchy-feely with strange persons), I've been wondering if this is how vampires would feel. Maybe? Or maybe not. Because if you're a vampire, you wouldn't produce any body heat at all, so there would be nothing to offset the coldness of your extremities. Which, I think, it why it feels so uncomfortable, because the room-temperature nature of my skin is right up against the interior of my body which, one hopes, is still around 97 degrees.
In other news, here are some things I learned this weekend. I hate Apple and iTunes. But I'm in love with Neutral Milk Hotel. Yay!
Thursday
Lost is just like life!
[Begin Spoiler for Lost 2.17 - "Lockdown" — Highlight to view]
More like ... LOCKE, DOWN am I right? Heh heh heh heh. Seriously though, folks.
not-Henry is so a not-Other. I was firmly convinced of his Otherness right up until the end of the episode, when his Potentially Complicated And Dark Past was revealed. Up until this point, I was only thinking of two options. Either he was telling the truth, or he was an Other. And he was clearly not telling the truth. But having reevaluated things, I realized that not being entirely on the up-and-up does not necessarily make him an Other, and indeed, it's probably more interesting if he's not. With this in mind, I bring you:
OMG, It's Like Politics Or Something!
The Lostaways have undergone some trauma forced upon them by a shadowy and loosely defined terrorist group. They stumble across a convenient scapegoat for their problems, someone who, while perhaps not necessarily good, and perhaps not unworthy of ill-treated, nevertheless has nothing to do with the injuries they have suffered. Not to be dissuaded, the Lostaways press on until the "find" the evidence that supports their beliefs, all in the interest of not losing their scapegoat. The person spearheading this operation? Is an Iraqi. IRONY, eh?
[End Spoiler]
Thus completes my musings on ... pretty much everything. You would not believe how tired I am. Um. Unless you've ever been really really tired. Then you'd probably know. I am so tired -- nay, weary -- that I feel ill. I am irritable and might be prone to violent outbursts or crying. I heard this condition is sometimes treated with alcohol? How does that go?
More like ... LOCKE, DOWN am I right? Heh heh heh heh. Seriously though, folks.
not-Henry is so a not-Other. I was firmly convinced of his Otherness right up until the end of the episode, when his Potentially Complicated And Dark Past was revealed. Up until this point, I was only thinking of two options. Either he was telling the truth, or he was an Other. And he was clearly not telling the truth. But having reevaluated things, I realized that not being entirely on the up-and-up does not necessarily make him an Other, and indeed, it's probably more interesting if he's not. With this in mind, I bring you:
OMG, It's Like Politics Or Something!
The Lostaways have undergone some trauma forced upon them by a shadowy and loosely defined terrorist group. They stumble across a convenient scapegoat for their problems, someone who, while perhaps not necessarily good, and perhaps not unworthy of ill-treated, nevertheless has nothing to do with the injuries they have suffered. Not to be dissuaded, the Lostaways press on until the "find" the evidence that supports their beliefs, all in the interest of not losing their scapegoat. The person spearheading this operation? Is an Iraqi. IRONY, eh?
[End Spoiler]
Thus completes my musings on ... pretty much everything. You would not believe how tired I am. Um. Unless you've ever been really really tired. Then you'd probably know. I am so tired -- nay, weary -- that I feel ill. I am irritable and might be prone to violent outbursts or crying. I heard this condition is sometimes treated with alcohol? How does that go?
Tuesday
Life options.
Blogger was down yesterday, so I was deprived of the opportunity to make a post about chocolate milk.
Today I'm weighing a choice between a certain, monetarily-secure, soul-crushing, dream-dissipating life, and an unstable, second-guessing, disappointing attempt to do the only thing I have ever desired. This is not the first time this thought has occurred to me, but I think life would be easier without hope. If my hope would just die, I don't think I would be as vulnerable. If I didn't have hope, I could just give up.
Yesterday was chocolate milk. FYI.
Today I'm weighing a choice between a certain, monetarily-secure, soul-crushing, dream-dissipating life, and an unstable, second-guessing, disappointing attempt to do the only thing I have ever desired. This is not the first time this thought has occurred to me, but I think life would be easier without hope. If my hope would just die, I don't think I would be as vulnerable. If I didn't have hope, I could just give up.
Yesterday was chocolate milk. FYI.
Thursday
"Nothing."
God. WHY DO I KEEP SAYING THAT?
I had a frustrating and miserable day today. I'm very tired and I wish I could go to sleep and have all my problems magically disappear.
Actually, I completely forget what I was going to say about this, because when I got home I was wired and close to tears, but then I had dinner and some honeydew and now I'm actually pretty cool, just a little sleepy. But the above still stands.
In reference to the title, sometime, somehow, it seems that I became massively passive-aggressive. My answer to everyone, about everything (regarding myself), is "Nothing" or "Not much" or "Okay."
How have I been? Okay.
What have I been up to? Not much.
What did I do today? Nothing.
There's just, apparently, a lot I don't want to deal with right now.
I had a frustrating and miserable day today. I'm very tired and I wish I could go to sleep and have all my problems magically disappear.
Actually, I completely forget what I was going to say about this, because when I got home I was wired and close to tears, but then I had dinner and some honeydew and now I'm actually pretty cool, just a little sleepy. But the above still stands.
In reference to the title, sometime, somehow, it seems that I became massively passive-aggressive. My answer to everyone, about everything (regarding myself), is "Nothing" or "Not much" or "Okay."
How have I been? Okay.
What have I been up to? Not much.
What did I do today? Nothing.
There's just, apparently, a lot I don't want to deal with right now.
Tuesday
That's it, I'm going to have to learn Ukrainian.
Right after I attain fluency in Classical Latin and Irish Gaeilge, and learn passably conversational French and Italian and maybe Welsh.
Seriously, if I could be granted a super power, it would be to be fluent in all languages. Or not even to speak them, just to be able to understand them. Like, if I could stick some dough in my ears and be able to understand Turkish, that would rock so hard.
Seriously, if I could be granted a super power, it would be to be fluent in all languages. Or not even to speak them, just to be able to understand them. Like, if I could stick some dough in my ears and be able to understand Turkish, that would rock so hard.
Friday
Do these people think they are good drivers?
Holy crap, two entries in one day! Did you win the lottery or something?
So, of late, I have been employed in a regular type occupation. It is actually pretty cool in the sense that I work with people who are cool. This makes ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. I've actually found myself (mildly) looking forward to going to work. It's kinda crazy. Not that I want to sell insurance or anything. I'm just saying.
My foray into the 9-5 world (or rather, 9:30-5, or, whatever hours work that day, because if I want them to be different, that's cool, do you see what I mean?) unfortunately means that I am now subject to the maladies of the "rush hour." The good news is that the job only requires about 5-10 minutes of driving, because it's really really close to my house. The bad news is that in those 5-10 minutes, I encounter untold numbers of douchebags and idiots.
Yesterday I was nearly run off the road no fewer than three times. The first fellow was behind me in a monstrous truck. He pulled so close to me that I could only almost see the severed ram's head logo on the front grill. I was stopped at a red light. I was watching the lights to see when they would turn, and I began to move the instant the light became green. And the fucker honked at me. FUCKING HONKED AT ME. Like, what the fuck. A "what is the freaking hold up, you slow moron??" honk, in case that's not clear. I instantly realized that it didn't matter when I started moving, because he had fully planned to honk at me anyway.
The next instance came on a stomach-clenching stretch of road, because it's a 40mph curving road bounded by concrete dividers. You then come to a light where the speed becomes 25mph. It's best not to ask. Anyway, at this light, I turn. Except I wondered if I'd be able to make the turn, as the young man and his jalopy behind me was seemingly attached to my rear bumper. I wasn't really sure if I should try to go faster, or slower, or what. I wondered if he realized that I would need to stop soon. And if he would hit me when that eventuality presented itself. It turned out okay.
The last was on my very street, and I really have no idea what happened. I wanted to go to the post office, but I needed to stop at my house to get something. So I was going to park on my quiet residential street. Instead, I had to kind of swerve over when a blue car was, yet again, upon the very ass of my car. As he sped by, he gave me some incredulous looks and hand gestures, as if *I* were the asshole.
Now, don't get me wrong, I considered that maybe I had gotten drunk or something and had been driving like crap that day. But I wasn't.
Today I watched a car in front of me tail the car ahead of it, with the brake lights flashing every few seconds. That probably wouldn't have happened had the one driver not been up the other one's ass. And that's when this entry's title occurred to me.
Seriously, there are many bad drivers. I really don't like to drive. I find it to be immensely stressful, though perhaps good for my abdominal muscles. And it's not that I don't trust myself. I don't trust other people. And ... do they realize how much they suck? I have to think that if they did, then they would endeavor not to suck anymore. But perhaps they don't know. And if they don't know, *why* don't they know? Why don't they realize who much they fucking suck!
The end.
So, of late, I have been employed in a regular type occupation. It is actually pretty cool in the sense that I work with people who are cool. This makes ALL THE DIFFERENCE IN THE ENTIRE WORLD. I've actually found myself (mildly) looking forward to going to work. It's kinda crazy. Not that I want to sell insurance or anything. I'm just saying.
My foray into the 9-5 world (or rather, 9:30-5, or, whatever hours work that day, because if I want them to be different, that's cool, do you see what I mean?) unfortunately means that I am now subject to the maladies of the "rush hour." The good news is that the job only requires about 5-10 minutes of driving, because it's really really close to my house. The bad news is that in those 5-10 minutes, I encounter untold numbers of douchebags and idiots.
Yesterday I was nearly run off the road no fewer than three times. The first fellow was behind me in a monstrous truck. He pulled so close to me that I could only almost see the severed ram's head logo on the front grill. I was stopped at a red light. I was watching the lights to see when they would turn, and I began to move the instant the light became green. And the fucker honked at me. FUCKING HONKED AT ME. Like, what the fuck. A "what is the freaking hold up, you slow moron??" honk, in case that's not clear. I instantly realized that it didn't matter when I started moving, because he had fully planned to honk at me anyway.
The next instance came on a stomach-clenching stretch of road, because it's a 40mph curving road bounded by concrete dividers. You then come to a light where the speed becomes 25mph. It's best not to ask. Anyway, at this light, I turn. Except I wondered if I'd be able to make the turn, as the young man and his jalopy behind me was seemingly attached to my rear bumper. I wasn't really sure if I should try to go faster, or slower, or what. I wondered if he realized that I would need to stop soon. And if he would hit me when that eventuality presented itself. It turned out okay.
The last was on my very street, and I really have no idea what happened. I wanted to go to the post office, but I needed to stop at my house to get something. So I was going to park on my quiet residential street. Instead, I had to kind of swerve over when a blue car was, yet again, upon the very ass of my car. As he sped by, he gave me some incredulous looks and hand gestures, as if *I* were the asshole.
Now, don't get me wrong, I considered that maybe I had gotten drunk or something and had been driving like crap that day. But I wasn't.
Today I watched a car in front of me tail the car ahead of it, with the brake lights flashing every few seconds. That probably wouldn't have happened had the one driver not been up the other one's ass. And that's when this entry's title occurred to me.
Seriously, there are many bad drivers. I really don't like to drive. I find it to be immensely stressful, though perhaps good for my abdominal muscles. And it's not that I don't trust myself. I don't trust other people. And ... do they realize how much they suck? I have to think that if they did, then they would endeavor not to suck anymore. But perhaps they don't know. And if they don't know, *why* don't they know? Why don't they realize who much they fucking suck!
The end.
For the record, I actually have quite a lot to say.
My head is, sometimes literally, abuzz with thoughts these days. It's just that I have no one to talk to. Well, that's not true. I do have people to talk to. But no one appropriate.
I'm pretty sure that there was a time when I would have been cool with just thinking it all over. Now, however, I find myself actively desiring to hear someone else's opinions on what's going on in my head. Not in a shrink way, though. Also, someone with whom I'd feel comfortable discussing the topics. And that person doesn't seem to exist. Or, perhaps, has ceased to exist.
My brand new plan is to stop this entry before it becomes too godawfully whiny.
I'm pretty sure that there was a time when I would have been cool with just thinking it all over. Now, however, I find myself actively desiring to hear someone else's opinions on what's going on in my head. Not in a shrink way, though. Also, someone with whom I'd feel comfortable discussing the topics. And that person doesn't seem to exist. Or, perhaps, has ceased to exist.
My brand new plan is to stop this entry before it becomes too godawfully whiny.
Jack of all trades, quitter of all.
Hello blog! I have not been in a blogging way, lately, as ... well, as no one can tell, because they're probably not reading this. Oh well!
I was not a happy camper last night. I watched some ladies figure skating, and became depressed. I felt very old and adrift in a sea of nothingness. Also, sleepy. So I listened to some Vivaldi and I cried a little.
Then I got up this morning and went to a job interview! Then I had cereal. And next week I have fun activities planned. So, it's cool now. I sometimes have trouble discerning if my moods will be long lasting or not.
This is my update. It is much shorter and much less interesting than I anticipated.
However, I realised that this Monday was February 19th. That's crazy, I didn't even realize it until five days later. I suppose this also means I should wish Jenny a happy birthday. Happy Birthday Jenny!
I must buy things for upcoming birthdays. I'll work on it.
I was not a happy camper last night. I watched some ladies figure skating, and became depressed. I felt very old and adrift in a sea of nothingness. Also, sleepy. So I listened to some Vivaldi and I cried a little.
Then I got up this morning and went to a job interview! Then I had cereal. And next week I have fun activities planned. So, it's cool now. I sometimes have trouble discerning if my moods will be long lasting or not.
This is my update. It is much shorter and much less interesting than I anticipated.
However, I realised that this Monday was February 19th. That's crazy, I didn't even realize it until five days later. I suppose this also means I should wish Jenny a happy birthday. Happy Birthday Jenny!
I must buy things for upcoming birthdays. I'll work on it.
Saturday
I don't know you.
Really. There was a ... mishap, and now my phone is no more. Like a good modern technology-dependent, the phone numbers, etc. of everyone I know was in there. Also, I really liked that phone.
Anyway. I have an actual physical phone book, in which I do have some actual physical phone numbers, but I have no idea how up to date they are. So, if you're a person who still likes me, drop me a line some time to fill me in on your correct information.
You know, whatever!
Anyway. I have an actual physical phone book, in which I do have some actual physical phone numbers, but I have no idea how up to date they are. So, if you're a person who still likes me, drop me a line some time to fill me in on your correct information.
You know, whatever!
Wednesday
Via Crystal: DUDE.
If you are reading this right now, you should go here.
You should go there and listen to the January 23rd Lost podcast. Even if you don't watch or like Lost. Even if you don't listen to or like podcasts. Even if you have no idea what I'm talking about.
You should especially listen to the answer given around the time 17:55. Actually, that's all you have to listen to. That's all I've listened to so far.
I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.
Except, maybe, "Hi, creators of Lost"?
You should go there and listen to the January 23rd Lost podcast. Even if you don't watch or like Lost. Even if you don't listen to or like podcasts. Even if you have no idea what I'm talking about.
You should especially listen to the answer given around the time 17:55. Actually, that's all you have to listen to. That's all I've listened to so far.
I DON'T KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS.
Except, maybe, "Hi, creators of Lost"?
Sunday
Pictures!
This entry contains pictures. Of me! Hence, the title.
Just because I am (occasionally) a performer does not necessarily mean that I am a people person. I'm really not. I hate dealing with people. If anyone knows of a good part-time job for hermits, please let me know.
This week, I drove on the highway for the first time. Specifically, the Garden State Parkway. And technically, I'd driven on it before, but it was for one exit in high traffic. I was very scary and I hate driving. But I did fine! I used EZPass! On the way home the sun was directly level to my face and I was moving at high speeds with crazy co-motorists. I was pretty convinced that this escapade would result in my gruesome death, but that did not happen. This is something that I thought about. It would have been most embarrasing had I died, because I had the day before made a mildly entertaining doodle on my arm. After a single showering. I wouldn't want the authorities to think I was sad and lame. Even though, obviously, I am. That's okay though! I'm comfortable with it.
Now, in the continued adventures of my hair. I never did get around to getting it styled like I said I would, but as it has lengthened, I find I enjoy it quite a bit. The hair that's been growing back in, that stuck out all over my head during the and gave me tiny bangs, is now shaggier. When I have the bulk of my hair up and these pieces fall forward, I find that I look pretty emo. Or at least, whatever my perception of emo is, I seem to fit it. It's kind of fascinating to discover what unintentional styles my hair develops. So without further ado, here are some intentionally emo pictures of my unintentionally emo hair.
Emo hair 1.
Emo hair 2.
Finally, this weekend I redid the downstairs bathroom. Off the kitchen, there is a small closet that masquerades as a bathroom. It's hard to fit a single person inside it. And until very recently, it was quite ugly. But it's not anymore! It's "Oh My God, It's So French." And I put vinyl tiles on the floor and it was a lot of work but it is awesome. Unfortunately, since you haven't (statistically) seen what the bathroom looked like before, the comparison is pretty much meaningless. But if you were ever interested, I have pictures. I will email you pictures of my tiny bathroom, if that's what you need.
Just because I am (occasionally) a performer does not necessarily mean that I am a people person. I'm really not. I hate dealing with people. If anyone knows of a good part-time job for hermits, please let me know.
This week, I drove on the highway for the first time. Specifically, the Garden State Parkway. And technically, I'd driven on it before, but it was for one exit in high traffic. I was very scary and I hate driving. But I did fine! I used EZPass! On the way home the sun was directly level to my face and I was moving at high speeds with crazy co-motorists. I was pretty convinced that this escapade would result in my gruesome death, but that did not happen. This is something that I thought about. It would have been most embarrasing had I died, because I had the day before made a mildly entertaining doodle on my arm. After a single showering. I wouldn't want the authorities to think I was sad and lame. Even though, obviously, I am. That's okay though! I'm comfortable with it.
Now, in the continued adventures of my hair. I never did get around to getting it styled like I said I would, but as it has lengthened, I find I enjoy it quite a bit. The hair that's been growing back in, that stuck out all over my head during the and gave me tiny bangs, is now shaggier. When I have the bulk of my hair up and these pieces fall forward, I find that I look pretty emo. Or at least, whatever my perception of emo is, I seem to fit it. It's kind of fascinating to discover what unintentional styles my hair develops. So without further ado, here are some intentionally emo pictures of my unintentionally emo hair.
Emo hair 1.
Emo hair 2.
Finally, this weekend I redid the downstairs bathroom. Off the kitchen, there is a small closet that masquerades as a bathroom. It's hard to fit a single person inside it. And until very recently, it was quite ugly. But it's not anymore! It's "Oh My God, It's So French." And I put vinyl tiles on the floor and it was a lot of work but it is awesome. Unfortunately, since you haven't (statistically) seen what the bathroom looked like before, the comparison is pretty much meaningless. But if you were ever interested, I have pictures. I will email you pictures of my tiny bathroom, if that's what you need.
Thursday
I am only posting this ...
... because I did not make a single word of it up.
Ten Top Trivia Tips about Jupe!
- 99 percent of the pumpkins sold in the US end up as Jupe.
- Some people in Malaysia bathe their babies in beer to protect them from Jupe.
- Jupe is the only bird that can swim but not fly.
- By tradition, a girl standing under Jupe cannot refuse to be kissed by anyone who claims the privilege.
- Bees visit over three million flowers to make a single kilogram of Jupe.
- The only Englishman to become Jupe was Nicholas Breakspear, who was Jupe from 1154 to 1159.
- Twenty-eight percent of Microsoft's employees are Jupe.
- Jupe can clean her ears with her tongue, which is over thirty-nine inches long!
- Louisa May Alcott, author of 'Little Jupe', hated Jupe and only wrote the book at her publisher's request.
- Ninety-six percent of all candles sold are purchased by Jupe.
Tuesday
Lauren! Why didn't you tell me!
Please note that I am currently irrational with glee, and not apt to find answers such as, "I was unaware." to be acceptable.
So, even though I've been in a sort of musical drought and mostly unaware of contemporary entertainment, some things still filter through to me. One such thing is the existence of a band called "Rilo Kiley" and the knowledge that some people I know seem to think they're keen. Also, that this band is fronted by a young lady named Jenny Lewis.
What I didn't put together until today is that this is the selfsame Jenny Lewis, the small adorable redhead, of such films as Troop Beverly Hills and A Friendship In Vienna , the latter of which is a movie that I watched innumerable times as a young girl. That and Henson puppet movies. Man. Wonderful times.
So, now I'm excited to learn about her music, whereas before I had reasonably low interest. That's how to get my attention, I guess! Of course, this is not to say that I will like the band, nor that I will listen to them much. Or maybe it does. But either way, I'll probably have to ask which songs are best to listen to. I may enlist Lauren, as she is a fangirl.
So, even though I've been in a sort of musical drought and mostly unaware of contemporary entertainment, some things still filter through to me. One such thing is the existence of a band called "Rilo Kiley" and the knowledge that some people I know seem to think they're keen. Also, that this band is fronted by a young lady named Jenny Lewis.
What I didn't put together until today is that this is the selfsame Jenny Lewis, the small adorable redhead, of such films as Troop Beverly Hills and A Friendship In Vienna , the latter of which is a movie that I watched innumerable times as a young girl. That and Henson puppet movies. Man. Wonderful times.
So, now I'm excited to learn about her music, whereas before I had reasonably low interest. That's how to get my attention, I guess! Of course, this is not to say that I will like the band, nor that I will listen to them much. Or maybe it does. But either way, I'll probably have to ask which songs are best to listen to. I may enlist Lauren, as she is a fangirl.
Saturday
Year in review?
So, here we are, and it’s the last day of 2005. In the morning , no less! Holy geez! I don’t know what’s gotten into me.
Last night, I had a strange dream. Ordinarily, I would say this is typical. On my worst dreaming day, my most unstrange dream can probably beat anyone else’s strangest dreams. My brain works in ways best not to fathom. But this dream was strange because it was, for my brain, just plain unimaginative. Perhaps I should blame the exceptionally late (or early?) hour at which I allowed myself to sleep. And painkillers?
What I got was basically a mixed-up mish-mash montage of things from the last year. It was mostly from the last month, but earlier things were there too. Movies seen, books read, video games bested (or not). Then some factual events skewed and placed out of order.
Like Professor McGonagall admonishing: “Don’t let Potter compete!” but talking about him making the gingerbread cookies that I made for Christmas. (There was a lot of dough, and it was a pain in the ass to work in all together.) Or me getting shots of muscle relaxants in my arms before going out for an audition which turned out to be a kind of birthday party during a community meeting at my old high school and my old librarian was making gift baskets. You know, utterly normal .
I’d like to try to spin this into an actual review of the past year, but that would take too much thinking and work and, to be honest, I got nothin’. In a sometimes tradition, I have no plans for this, the most fabulous of yearly dates. My sister and I have recently discussed the pressure to be doing something simply wonderful today, and especially at midnight. Too much pressure. Too many drunks on the road. Too lazy. I’ll see what happens (maybe movies, maybe friends, mostly likely video games), I’ll stay up for the switch over, and I’ll wake up tomorrow to a fresh new year.
I don’t do resolutions. I hope everyone else’s work out, though.
Happy New Year, all!
Last night, I had a strange dream. Ordinarily, I would say this is typical. On my worst dreaming day, my most unstrange dream can probably beat anyone else’s strangest dreams. My brain works in ways best not to fathom. But this dream was strange because it was, for my brain, just plain unimaginative. Perhaps I should blame the exceptionally late (or early?) hour at which I allowed myself to sleep. And painkillers?
What I got was basically a mixed-up mish-mash montage of things from the last year. It was mostly from the last month, but earlier things were there too. Movies seen, books read, video games bested (or not). Then some factual events skewed and placed out of order.
Like Professor McGonagall admonishing: “Don’t let Potter compete!” but talking about him making the gingerbread cookies that I made for Christmas. (There was a lot of dough, and it was a pain in the ass to work in all together.) Or me getting shots of muscle relaxants in my arms before going out for an audition which turned out to be a kind of birthday party during a community meeting at my old high school and my old librarian was making gift baskets. You know, utterly normal .
I’d like to try to spin this into an actual review of the past year, but that would take too much thinking and work and, to be honest, I got nothin’. In a sometimes tradition, I have no plans for this, the most fabulous of yearly dates. My sister and I have recently discussed the pressure to be doing something simply wonderful today, and especially at midnight. Too much pressure. Too many drunks on the road. Too lazy. I’ll see what happens (maybe movies, maybe friends, mostly likely video games), I’ll stay up for the switch over, and I’ll wake up tomorrow to a fresh new year.
I don’t do resolutions. I hope everyone else’s work out, though.
Happy New Year, all!
Friday
And you atheists - have a nice day.
That's New York's Only Classic Rock Station making me smile sometimes.
Happy Christmas Eve Eve everyone! Delete words backwards as the days progress!
Happy Christmas Eve Eve everyone! Delete words backwards as the days progress!
Monday
Thanks Pat!
Only, I think instead of just crossing things out, I will address each claim individually. Hooray! ... Don't laugh.
December
Loyal and generous. -- Yes.
Sexy. -- Um. Sometimes maybe?
Patriotic. -- Not really, no.
Active in games and interactions. -- Oh boy I hope they mean computer games! Because otherwise no.
Impatient and hasty. -- Absolutely not.
Ambitious. -- Uh. Maybe? Or, no. Having grandiose desires is not the same as being ambitious.
Influential in organizations. -- I'm going to go with "yes."
Fun to be with. -- Sometimes? When I'm not busy being completely boring?
Loves to socialize. -- No.
Loves praises. -- Yes.
Loves attention. -- Sometimes.
Loves to be loved. -- Who doesn't?
Honest and trustworthy. -- Yes.
Not pretending. -- Definitely. Except when I am on purpose. You know.
Short tempered. -- Definitely.
Changing personality. -- No? What?
Not egoistic. -- HA!
Take high pride in oneself. -- Typically.
Hates restrictions. -- True.
Loves to joke. -- True.
Good sense of humor. -- In that I find most things humorous, yes.
Logical. -- Yes.
So, that's 12 out of 23 that I agree with sans qualms. Good try though, internet!
December
Loyal and generous. -- Yes.
Sexy. -- Um. Sometimes maybe?
Patriotic. -- Not really, no.
Active in games and interactions. -- Oh boy I hope they mean computer games! Because otherwise no.
Impatient and hasty. -- Absolutely not.
Ambitious. -- Uh. Maybe? Or, no. Having grandiose desires is not the same as being ambitious.
Influential in organizations. -- I'm going to go with "yes."
Fun to be with. -- Sometimes? When I'm not busy being completely boring?
Loves to socialize. -- No.
Loves praises. -- Yes.
Loves attention. -- Sometimes.
Loves to be loved. -- Who doesn't?
Honest and trustworthy. -- Yes.
Not pretending. -- Definitely. Except when I am on purpose. You know.
Short tempered. -- Definitely.
Changing personality. -- No? What?
Not egoistic. -- HA!
Take high pride in oneself. -- Typically.
Hates restrictions. -- True.
Loves to joke. -- True.
Good sense of humor. -- In that I find most things humorous, yes.
Logical. -- Yes.
So, that's 12 out of 23 that I agree with sans qualms. Good try though, internet!
Thursday
The fucking news.
Tonight I opted to watch the final investigative report of the late Peter Jennings. First, because I loved Peter Jennings and I miss listening to him. Second, because the topic (the abysmal state of the US’s health insurance system) in one in which I have a vested interest. It was pretty good, despite the fact that I had to switch over to NBC on commercial breaks because my mother wanted to see the outcome of The Apprentice.
Somewhere around minute 40, my local ABC affiliate decided that they needed to bust in with some BREAKING NEWS about the potential transit strike. (Um. There may be a transit strike.) Only, it wasn’t actually news. They wanted to say that there was still no word one way or the other, but that there might been. Soon. Maybe. And then they showed some guy talking, who said essentially the same thing, but in a thick Jamaican accent. And he thanked some people and said a whole array of things in which I had absolutely no interest.
Because I was appalled. I was fucking appalled. ABC made a big deal over this Peter Jennings thing. So I was shocked that they’d cut into in the first place. But this is a local vs. national thing, so I honestly have no idea how it works. But I have never, ever, seen “breaking news” that was actually noteworthy or important. Never.
Some of you may remember (and it is still in my archives) that an Angel episode got interrupted by a similar event, and I completely lost my damn mind over it. Lost my damn mind. I had other things going on. It wasn’t solely the breaking news. But that did play a part. That time, the WB wanted to announce that we we’re at war yet, but we might be. Soon. Maybe.
Perhaps I have a different conception of what “breaking news” is. To me, for a story to be important enough to interrupt my programming, it has to be something that I will care sufficiently enough about to care more about the news than I do about the programming, and to be okay with the fact that my program was interrupted. You know, things like “War Ends” or “President Killed” or “Moon Explodes.” Things like that.
And it’s not that I don’t care about war. It’s not that I don’t care about the potential of a transit strike (though it honestly won’t affect me as much as it will affect people who commute in the city daily, which I do not). It’s that the “news” that they’re breaking in with doesn’t actually give new information about these things. If I wanted a second-by-second account of what was going on, I would be watching a 24-hour news channel. When the news is coming up in 10 or 20 minutes, hold the story . You know they’re just going to recap exactly what they just said when the news at 11 comes on. So what the hell?
Every second of these things annoys me. Because all I can think about is the seconds that I’m losing off the program that I want to see. And first we have to have a logo and theme music. And then the anchors have to talk to us about what we’re about to see. And then we see it. And then the anchors have to discuss what we just saw. And then there has to be the logo and the theme music again. “This has been an ABC news Special Report.” Yeah, thanks guys. Thanks a fucking lot.
It’s almost ironic that I’m judging this aggravation against Mr. Jennings. Because it reminded me how nearly every day there is less and less to like about the news media. I hate Elizabeth Vargas. That’s something else entirely, though.
Oh, Randal won.
Somewhere around minute 40, my local ABC affiliate decided that they needed to bust in with some BREAKING NEWS about the potential transit strike. (Um. There may be a transit strike.) Only, it wasn’t actually news. They wanted to say that there was still no word one way or the other, but that there might been. Soon. Maybe. And then they showed some guy talking, who said essentially the same thing, but in a thick Jamaican accent. And he thanked some people and said a whole array of things in which I had absolutely no interest.
Because I was appalled. I was fucking appalled. ABC made a big deal over this Peter Jennings thing. So I was shocked that they’d cut into in the first place. But this is a local vs. national thing, so I honestly have no idea how it works. But I have never, ever, seen “breaking news” that was actually noteworthy or important. Never.
Some of you may remember (and it is still in my archives) that an Angel episode got interrupted by a similar event, and I completely lost my damn mind over it. Lost my damn mind. I had other things going on. It wasn’t solely the breaking news. But that did play a part. That time, the WB wanted to announce that we we’re at war yet, but we might be. Soon. Maybe.
Perhaps I have a different conception of what “breaking news” is. To me, for a story to be important enough to interrupt my programming, it has to be something that I will care sufficiently enough about to care more about the news than I do about the programming, and to be okay with the fact that my program was interrupted. You know, things like “War Ends” or “President Killed” or “Moon Explodes.” Things like that.
And it’s not that I don’t care about war. It’s not that I don’t care about the potential of a transit strike (though it honestly won’t affect me as much as it will affect people who commute in the city daily, which I do not). It’s that the “news” that they’re breaking in with doesn’t actually give new information about these things. If I wanted a second-by-second account of what was going on, I would be watching a 24-hour news channel. When the news is coming up in 10 or 20 minutes, hold the story . You know they’re just going to recap exactly what they just said when the news at 11 comes on. So what the hell?
Every second of these things annoys me. Because all I can think about is the seconds that I’m losing off the program that I want to see. And first we have to have a logo and theme music. And then the anchors have to talk to us about what we’re about to see. And then we see it. And then the anchors have to discuss what we just saw. And then there has to be the logo and the theme music again. “This has been an ABC news Special Report.” Yeah, thanks guys. Thanks a fucking lot.
It’s almost ironic that I’m judging this aggravation against Mr. Jennings. Because it reminded me how nearly every day there is less and less to like about the news media. I hate Elizabeth Vargas. That’s something else entirely, though.
Oh, Randal won.
Friday
Only geniuses will get all 30.
The New York Times Magazine can be kind of dicky, sometimes.
In other news, Birthday: had. It was pretty great.
In other news, Birthday: had. It was pretty great.
In which I bemoan the dwindling of my youth.*
In two days, I will be 22 years old.
Holy shit that's so old! I'm so old!
Yeah, I know, I'll shut up in a second.
SO OLD!
When my mother turned 22, she had a 5 month old daughter. ...Luckily I feel no need to catch up. But, you know, old .
I supposed I better get used to saying it and writing it down. At least I only have one number to remember.
*The real point of this post is to remind you that Sunday is my birthday.
Holy shit that's so old! I'm so old!
Yeah, I know, I'll shut up in a second.
SO OLD!
When my mother turned 22, she had a 5 month old daughter. ...Luckily I feel no need to catch up. But, you know, old .
I supposed I better get used to saying it and writing it down. At least I only have one number to remember.
*The real point of this post is to remind you that Sunday is my birthday.
Saturday
RENT, bitches!
Heh! I went with my mother to see RENT (2005). I had to sit and think a while about what I thought of it, because it was totally good, and I'm conflicted from having seen the show. I had the same problem when I saw Chicago . And that movie was great. So, what follows will be a somewhat comparision of show to movie, and a discussion of changes I felt worked and did not.
I'm going to assume that if you're not from the New York area (and most of you are not) that you haven't seen the show. Hopefully I won't talk down to you in an off-putting fashion!
[Begin Spoiler for RENT — Highlight to view]
The first difference is that the movie is a musical. Isn't the show? No. The show is a rock opera . There is almost no dialogue in the show. Like a real opera! But you can't have a movie of four or even two straight hours of singing, so I'm fine with the fact that the level of dialogue increased. What I didn't like is that the dialogue seemed like filler between the songs. Which I find happens in musicals. A few lines of dialogue creates a bridge between two songs. Doesn't have to be. I'm pretty sure Chicago did not have this problem. I'm pretty much going to blame the direction.
There was premature concern about Chris Columbus directing this, and people were worried that it was going to be Columbus-ified. Were these concerns valid? In my opinion, yes. The movie certainly does not suck, because the material is great. But I do think it could have been better under another director. Chris Columbus really doesn't have to make any more movies, as far as I'm concerned. Or, if he does, he should stick with the films we expect him to make: kids' films.
On the old cast: Anthony Rapp was still playing like they were on a stage. He's done enough movies to know better. The same can be same, to a lesser degree, for Ms. Menzel, but it fit her character, so that ameliorates it even more. Adam Pascal is the only one who seems to have mellowed with age, and that made me profoundly disappointed because I love Roger and adore Mr. Pascal in everything he's been in. (Which, um. Is RENT and SLC Punk ) But he's still blond and I still love him. The other gentlemen were still fucking fabulous.
On the new cast: Rosario Dawson looks like a perfect Mimi, but falls flat in the actual ... acting. Or rather, singing. Daphne Rubin-Vega can't really sing, but she does so with intense passion, and that's why she's great. Dawson is sort of the reverse. Not that she was horrible by any means. Tracie Thoms, on the other hand, was ... I freaking love her. She's adorable and tough and great and fabulous and should be in everything. Really.
The show, clearly, it is better. That's probably true in all cases. The show's always better, the book's always better, etc. For me, I feel this way because the moments that hit me the hardest in the show were in parts that were absent from the film. One example is where we learn about the fate of April. **SHOW SPOILER!** In the show, they come off the exuberance of the opening number and Mark is about to head out. "Take your AZT," he tells Roger (just like in the film) but then he explains in song to the near silent audience (with Roger plucking at his guitar in the foreground) "His girlfriend April left a note saying 'We've got AIDS.' before slitting her wrists in the bathroom." And, holy shit. I'm pretty sure I gasped, because it felt like a slap in the face. The movie was sadly devoid of moments like this.
In addition, it wasn't really that great to see April on screen. She was pretty skanky. I mean, so too was Roger, but in the show, it's really up for grabs what April's part was in the acquirement of the HIV. It's strongly implied that Roger contracted it because he was using drugs, and then he gave it to April, who wasn't doing anything deviant. And then she killed herself. Which does a whole lot to explain why Roger is so fucked up. And this is ... off in screen version.
One thing that I did like was changing the time frame of the first act. I could never buy that all that shit took place in one night. So I was in favor of all that, and I smiled to myself at how they changed the lyrics around to fit it. However, it could have been done with more finesse. And that's on the dude that did the screenplay.
In conclusion, I still had tears streaming down my face. It's pretty great. If you have a chance to see the show (and perhaps I'll list some more reasons to do so at a later time) you should definitely do that. But in the meantime, if you have the chance to see the movie (which you do, unless you live in Wyoming or some place) you should do that too.
[End Spoiler]
I'm going to assume that if you're not from the New York area (and most of you are not) that you haven't seen the show. Hopefully I won't talk down to you in an off-putting fashion!
[Begin Spoiler for RENT — Highlight to view]
The first difference is that the movie is a musical. Isn't the show? No. The show is a rock opera . There is almost no dialogue in the show. Like a real opera! But you can't have a movie of four or even two straight hours of singing, so I'm fine with the fact that the level of dialogue increased. What I didn't like is that the dialogue seemed like filler between the songs. Which I find happens in musicals. A few lines of dialogue creates a bridge between two songs. Doesn't have to be. I'm pretty sure Chicago did not have this problem. I'm pretty much going to blame the direction.
There was premature concern about Chris Columbus directing this, and people were worried that it was going to be Columbus-ified. Were these concerns valid? In my opinion, yes. The movie certainly does not suck, because the material is great. But I do think it could have been better under another director. Chris Columbus really doesn't have to make any more movies, as far as I'm concerned. Or, if he does, he should stick with the films we expect him to make: kids' films.
On the old cast: Anthony Rapp was still playing like they were on a stage. He's done enough movies to know better. The same can be same, to a lesser degree, for Ms. Menzel, but it fit her character, so that ameliorates it even more. Adam Pascal is the only one who seems to have mellowed with age, and that made me profoundly disappointed because I love Roger and adore Mr. Pascal in everything he's been in. (Which, um. Is RENT and SLC Punk ) But he's still blond and I still love him. The other gentlemen were still fucking fabulous.
On the new cast: Rosario Dawson looks like a perfect Mimi, but falls flat in the actual ... acting. Or rather, singing. Daphne Rubin-Vega can't really sing, but she does so with intense passion, and that's why she's great. Dawson is sort of the reverse. Not that she was horrible by any means. Tracie Thoms, on the other hand, was ... I freaking love her. She's adorable and tough and great and fabulous and should be in everything. Really.
The show, clearly, it is better. That's probably true in all cases. The show's always better, the book's always better, etc. For me, I feel this way because the moments that hit me the hardest in the show were in parts that were absent from the film. One example is where we learn about the fate of April. **SHOW SPOILER!** In the show, they come off the exuberance of the opening number and Mark is about to head out. "Take your AZT," he tells Roger (just like in the film) but then he explains in song to the near silent audience (with Roger plucking at his guitar in the foreground) "His girlfriend April left a note saying 'We've got AIDS.' before slitting her wrists in the bathroom." And, holy shit. I'm pretty sure I gasped, because it felt like a slap in the face. The movie was sadly devoid of moments like this.
In addition, it wasn't really that great to see April on screen. She was pretty skanky. I mean, so too was Roger, but in the show, it's really up for grabs what April's part was in the acquirement of the HIV. It's strongly implied that Roger contracted it because he was using drugs, and then he gave it to April, who wasn't doing anything deviant. And then she killed herself. Which does a whole lot to explain why Roger is so fucked up. And this is ... off in screen version.
One thing that I did like was changing the time frame of the first act. I could never buy that all that shit took place in one night. So I was in favor of all that, and I smiled to myself at how they changed the lyrics around to fit it. However, it could have been done with more finesse. And that's on the dude that did the screenplay.
In conclusion, I still had tears streaming down my face. It's pretty great. If you have a chance to see the show (and perhaps I'll list some more reasons to do so at a later time) you should definitely do that. But in the meantime, if you have the chance to see the movie (which you do, unless you live in Wyoming or some place) you should do that too.
[End Spoiler]
NB
The sweet potatoes will not last until my birthday if I continue to eat them with supposed impunity.
My birthday is in 9 days.
My birthday is in 9 days.
Thursday
I am thankful for monkeys.
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday that is not my birthday. It is a day that is orange, and orange is my second favorite color after purple. Today I wore an orange sweater and ate orange food, and it was good.
Also, this year is the first year in ... perhaps ever that I did not have Thanksgiving at my house. Well, except for those few years when my mother was not doing holidays. I forget what I did then. It was kind of a blur. But this year we went up to my sister's because ... I don't know. Complicated reasons that no one really remembers any more. I was completely surprised by all the traffic. But at least we weren't going south. Whoa nelly!
The evening went about 85% great. A seven-year-old girl is adorable and loves me. My sister made me hot cocoa. THERE WAS A NOTICEABLE LACK OF SMOKE AND IT MADE THINGS EXCELLENT. We watched Million Dollar Baby On Demand and it was a terrible, terrible movie. My mother got cranky towards the end of the night, but a frigid ride home put her to rights.
The important thing is that I now have two large containers filled with sweet potatoes in my refrigerator. This will surely last me until my birthday, which was the plan all along. SO GOOD.
Also today I told my family some good news that I received on Monday but hadn't mentioned until today. Yes, that's right. I had good news that I intentionally told no one. I don't know why I did that! It's not like I was making a choice not to say anything. I just kind of ... didn't. And people asked me "Is anything going on?" And I said, "Not really." Not really!
Tomorrow I will go see RENT with my mommy. Then we will go look for Elton John sheet music. I swear these events are unrelated! Heeeeee! Oh, I also have to call this cat toy company because I need to obtain a very specific product for my neurotic cat who is losing her mind without it.
In conclusion, "What are you thankful for?"
"Monkeys."
Also, this year is the first year in ... perhaps ever that I did not have Thanksgiving at my house. Well, except for those few years when my mother was not doing holidays. I forget what I did then. It was kind of a blur. But this year we went up to my sister's because ... I don't know. Complicated reasons that no one really remembers any more. I was completely surprised by all the traffic. But at least we weren't going south. Whoa nelly!
The evening went about 85% great. A seven-year-old girl is adorable and loves me. My sister made me hot cocoa. THERE WAS A NOTICEABLE LACK OF SMOKE AND IT MADE THINGS EXCELLENT. We watched Million Dollar Baby On Demand and it was a terrible, terrible movie. My mother got cranky towards the end of the night, but a frigid ride home put her to rights.
The important thing is that I now have two large containers filled with sweet potatoes in my refrigerator. This will surely last me until my birthday, which was the plan all along. SO GOOD.
Also today I told my family some good news that I received on Monday but hadn't mentioned until today. Yes, that's right. I had good news that I intentionally told no one. I don't know why I did that! It's not like I was making a choice not to say anything. I just kind of ... didn't. And people asked me "Is anything going on?" And I said, "Not really." Not really!
Tomorrow I will go see RENT with my mommy. Then we will go look for Elton John sheet music. I swear these events are unrelated! Heeeeee! Oh, I also have to call this cat toy company because I need to obtain a very specific product for my neurotic cat who is losing her mind without it.
In conclusion, "What are you thankful for?"
"Monkeys."
Monday
Sunday
El Diablo wants me to watch Spanglish .
And I will not do it. This entry really has no point, other than that I don't ever want to watch the film Spanglish . And my reasons have nothing to do with its content or how good or bad it might be. I don't care how good or bad it might be (though I suspect, Cloris Leachman aside, it's probably something I would not enjoy). I just don't want to watch it, because some unseen force has been trying to make me watch it for months.
When I went out to California, this film was shown on just about every single freaking flight I took on the whole trip (four). Some guy was watching it on his laptop on one of my train trips. This movie has been shoved at me, while I've been a captive audience, an unrememborable amount of times. And it's a movie that I never had any intention of seeing. So now it's a thing. A vow.
Last night, Spanglish was premiering on HBO. I was going to be out of the house eating food with my mother, but the lines were too long so we came home and ordered Chinese. And I was confronted with Spanglish once again.
Instead of watching this movie, I opted to watch Dances With Wolves instead. Dances. With freaking Wolves. Now, some of you may know my history with this film. I was dragged along by my parents to see it in theaters when I was 6 or 7 or however old I was when it came out. I remembered nothing of the film except that there was a line to get in, I fell asleep, and the only thing I remember of the story was that at one point a man holds a gun to his head, says, "God Save the King" and shoots himself. And this I only remember because it was at this point that my mother covered my eyes with her hand. And I like to point out that if she had not drawn attention to this, I never would have remembered it, yet because she did, it is now burned permanently into my brain.
Well, now I know what happens in the movie, and my beloved anecdote is ruined. In addition, I spent three hours looking at Kevin Costner's hideous face . All this I did, so that I would not have to watch Spanglish . Were there other options? Probably. But I wasn't thinking clearly.
I know I used a lot of extra-slanty italics in this post, and for that I apologize. I'll have to work on changing the layout of my blog, because it could just be so much more optimal.
When I went out to California, this film was shown on just about every single freaking flight I took on the whole trip (four). Some guy was watching it on his laptop on one of my train trips. This movie has been shoved at me, while I've been a captive audience, an unrememborable amount of times. And it's a movie that I never had any intention of seeing. So now it's a thing. A vow.
Last night, Spanglish was premiering on HBO. I was going to be out of the house eating food with my mother, but the lines were too long so we came home and ordered Chinese. And I was confronted with Spanglish once again.
Instead of watching this movie, I opted to watch Dances With Wolves instead. Dances. With freaking Wolves. Now, some of you may know my history with this film. I was dragged along by my parents to see it in theaters when I was 6 or 7 or however old I was when it came out. I remembered nothing of the film except that there was a line to get in, I fell asleep, and the only thing I remember of the story was that at one point a man holds a gun to his head, says, "God Save the King" and shoots himself. And this I only remember because it was at this point that my mother covered my eyes with her hand. And I like to point out that if she had not drawn attention to this, I never would have remembered it, yet because she did, it is now burned permanently into my brain.
Well, now I know what happens in the movie, and my beloved anecdote is ruined. In addition, I spent three hours looking at Kevin Costner's hideous face . All this I did, so that I would not have to watch Spanglish . Were there other options? Probably. But I wasn't thinking clearly.
I know I used a lot of extra-slanty italics in this post, and for that I apologize. I'll have to work on changing the layout of my blog, because it could just be so much more optimal.
Thursday
Monkeys!!
Oh man! Today I got a card from Stephanie, and it was the best card ever in the whole world. Seriously!
You may be thinking, "Best card ever, huh? Well, I don't know ... I've gotten some pretty good cards before."
This one beats those.
You may be thinking, "Best card ever, huh? Well, I don't know ... I've gotten some pretty good cards before."
This one beats those.
Tuesday
You know, I really hate people.
Some days, I just say that. But on other days, I really mean it.
This is quite the fitting mood, then, with which I can go elect (or not, as the case will probably be) some public leaders. Did I mentioned that I watched the Gubernatorial Debates back ... whenever they had those? Man, that was the most useless hour of my life. Seriously. That's why I'm doing a write-in vote! (Not for Pat, sadly. That's only for president.) Truly exercising my right to throw my vote away. But seriously, all of the major candidates suck so much. It's ridiculous. I'd have rather seen them run footraces and eat live bugs, that's how valuable the whole thing was.
This really doesn't fit into my hateful mood theme, more of an introspective/contemplative mood theme, but I need to get these things out.
I can't believe that I'm as old as I am. Really, I can't. I know that the readership of this blog is people who are up-to-and-including double my age (hee!) but you're just going to have to bear with me on this. I can't believe that I'm not still 15. I can't believe that I'm out of high school. Shit, I can't believe that I'm out of college ! I've been out of school for over a year! Although, to be fair, I guess I kind of cheated on that account. But honestly, I sometimes feel as though I must have misplaced a bunch of years along the way. I suppose this is really the expression of my feeling that I've gotten a delayed start on life. I feel that way too. I feel like what I'm doing with myself now should have been what I was doing with myself at 15. So what did I spend all that time doing? Nothing, apparently.
Then again, you know, I suppose it really isn't too late to go to law school and learn tennis and devote myself entirely to a pre-mapped life that will never bring me joy. I mean, that's still on the table, really.
Wow. Did you know that it's almost 3 o'clock? Days like this are the reason that I sometimes forget to eat. I've been "making myself lunch" for the past two and a half hours.
This is quite the fitting mood, then, with which I can go elect (or not, as the case will probably be) some public leaders. Did I mentioned that I watched the Gubernatorial Debates back ... whenever they had those? Man, that was the most useless hour of my life. Seriously. That's why I'm doing a write-in vote! (Not for Pat, sadly. That's only for president.) Truly exercising my right to throw my vote away. But seriously, all of the major candidates suck so much. It's ridiculous. I'd have rather seen them run footraces and eat live bugs, that's how valuable the whole thing was.
This really doesn't fit into my hateful mood theme, more of an introspective/contemplative mood theme, but I need to get these things out.
I can't believe that I'm as old as I am. Really, I can't. I know that the readership of this blog is people who are up-to-and-including double my age (hee!) but you're just going to have to bear with me on this. I can't believe that I'm not still 15. I can't believe that I'm out of high school. Shit, I can't believe that I'm out of college ! I've been out of school for over a year! Although, to be fair, I guess I kind of cheated on that account. But honestly, I sometimes feel as though I must have misplaced a bunch of years along the way. I suppose this is really the expression of my feeling that I've gotten a delayed start on life. I feel that way too. I feel like what I'm doing with myself now should have been what I was doing with myself at 15. So what did I spend all that time doing? Nothing, apparently.
Then again, you know, I suppose it really isn't too late to go to law school and learn tennis and devote myself entirely to a pre-mapped life that will never bring me joy. I mean, that's still on the table, really.
Wow. Did you know that it's almost 3 o'clock? Days like this are the reason that I sometimes forget to eat. I've been "making myself lunch" for the past two and a half hours.
Saturday
"...now that they make frozen vegetables..."
Tonight my mother and I went and hung out in the triangle below Canal and attended a screening of the short film that I was in last year. My sister was also supposed to be there (in fact, she was supposed to drive us, since that's where she spent most of the last half of the nineties and new where we could park for free and get a great salad) but she came down with about five different kinds of illness this week, because she works with children, who are gross. It's just as well, though, because the traffic was stupefying. But we made it in ample time.
Film: 12 minutes. Apparently, any longer than 15 and festivals will spit on you. Next year: Sundance. So maybe Will can get to see it. I wound up staying for both showings, because after the second there was a "DVD featurette" of behind-the-scenes footage. A 7-minute film about the making of the 12-minute film. All in all, it was kind of awesome. The film was pretty great, and the writer/director/star was a pretty terrific actor. I had no idea when I was hangin' out with him. The blonde chick? Not so much. But not horrible, either. In between, I got in some good schmooze with the producer.
Then we went out for eats! We couldn't find the place my sister recommended, because my mother was unwilling to wander the streets and figure out where we were. My mother steadfastly refuses to believe that I know how to navigate in the city. Because I'm five. It turns out that I knew precisely where we were because we were a block from the restaurant where I had my first date with the boy. Awww. It was a highly coincidental experience.
But we wound up going to a Japanese restaurant where we dined on tempura, green tea ice cream, and a sample of plum wine. SO STUFFED. Also, my mother commented afterwards that my eyes looked a little bloodshot. I am so cheap a drunk, my drink was free. It's sad and adorable, I know.
On the way home, we enjoyed some people watching. The above quote is courtesy of some chick on the bus, and I swear to God she said that . Sadly, the strap of my Italian leather purse gave way after many years of use. If you've seen me in the last five years, you know the one of which I speak. I think it's finally done. The metal loop broke, and then fell off on the bus somewhere. This makes me very sad. I guess I'll just have to get another on or something!
Also, I looked really pretty.
All in all, it was a pretty terrific evening, I'd have to say.
Film: 12 minutes. Apparently, any longer than 15 and festivals will spit on you. Next year: Sundance. So maybe Will can get to see it. I wound up staying for both showings, because after the second there was a "DVD featurette" of behind-the-scenes footage. A 7-minute film about the making of the 12-minute film. All in all, it was kind of awesome. The film was pretty great, and the writer/director/star was a pretty terrific actor. I had no idea when I was hangin' out with him. The blonde chick? Not so much. But not horrible, either. In between, I got in some good schmooze with the producer.
Then we went out for eats! We couldn't find the place my sister recommended, because my mother was unwilling to wander the streets and figure out where we were. My mother steadfastly refuses to believe that I know how to navigate in the city. Because I'm five. It turns out that I knew precisely where we were because we were a block from the restaurant where I had my first date with the boy. Awww. It was a highly coincidental experience.
But we wound up going to a Japanese restaurant where we dined on tempura, green tea ice cream, and a sample of plum wine. SO STUFFED. Also, my mother commented afterwards that my eyes looked a little bloodshot. I am so cheap a drunk, my drink was free. It's sad and adorable, I know.
On the way home, we enjoyed some people watching. The above quote is courtesy of some chick on the bus, and I swear to God she said that . Sadly, the strap of my Italian leather purse gave way after many years of use. If you've seen me in the last five years, you know the one of which I speak. I think it's finally done. The metal loop broke, and then fell off on the bus somewhere. This makes me very sad. I guess I'll just have to get another on or something!
Also, I looked really pretty.
All in all, it was a pretty terrific evening, I'd have to say.
Monday
Donuts, I got ... Hey I know you!
So, back in the day when I thought I was going to be an Ivy-Leaguer, I went through some complicated application processes. Swanky schools like you to meet with alumni of distinction, and then have those alumni report back to them and tattle on you.
For Princeton, my father figured it would be in my favor to meet with someone he knew. (But he apparently didn't think it would be in my favor to, you know, save any money for me. Whoops! Still bitter I guess.)
So one fall evening I trekked into Newark, into the area where they have all the Neo Classical buildings so it doesn't really look so bad (as Newark tends to do). After a pass through some metal detectors I went up some swanky elevators to the swanky office of my father's old crony (I mean, "business associate"). That gentleman? Judge Samuel A. Alito.
Seriously guys? He's pretty nice. And his voting record is clearly pro-me, so I think that's all we need to know. Right?
For Princeton, my father figured it would be in my favor to meet with someone he knew. (But he apparently didn't think it would be in my favor to, you know, save any money for me. Whoops! Still bitter I guess.)
So one fall evening I trekked into Newark, into the area where they have all the Neo Classical buildings so it doesn't really look so bad (as Newark tends to do). After a pass through some metal detectors I went up some swanky elevators to the swanky office of my father's old crony (I mean, "business associate"). That gentleman? Judge Samuel A. Alito.
Seriously guys? He's pretty nice. And his voting record is clearly pro-me, so I think that's all we need to know. Right?
Thursday
It's so involved being me.
Okay, I think I'm resolute on something now.
[Begin Spoiler for Veronica Mars Season 2 — Highlight to view]
I like Veronica and Duncan together. I realize this puts me at odds with most fans. But whatev! That's nothing new. I also realize that, as this is tv, there's no way they'll last out this season. But I still hope they do. I'm in favor.
Perhaps I empathize.
[End Spoiler]
In other news, I've been listening to new music, I made a charitable contribution to a humanitarian organization, I purchased candy some of which I now intend to eat, and I'm going to wait around to hear back about my Next Project.
My life is no where near as glamorous as I'm pretending it is, but at least I'm aware that I'm using the internet to construct an escapist fantasy. And that's something, right?
Also, I wish my brain could just go ahead and decided whether or not I'm actually depressed, because the mood swings are getting pretty damn annoying.
[Begin Spoiler for Veronica Mars Season 2 — Highlight to view]
I like Veronica and Duncan together. I realize this puts me at odds with most fans. But whatev! That's nothing new. I also realize that, as this is tv, there's no way they'll last out this season. But I still hope they do. I'm in favor.
Perhaps I empathize.
[End Spoiler]
In other news, I've been listening to new music, I made a charitable contribution to a humanitarian organization, I purchased candy some of which I now intend to eat, and I'm going to wait around to hear back about my Next Project.
My life is no where near as glamorous as I'm pretending it is, but at least I'm aware that I'm using the internet to construct an escapist fantasy. And that's something, right?
Also, I wish my brain could just go ahead and decided whether or not I'm actually depressed, because the mood swings are getting pretty damn annoying.
This entry is about Harry Potter. Again.
I know, it's a little strange placed. But I haven't seen Serenity , so I'll have to talk about something else. I've been rereading the Harry Potter, and I've gotten back around to Book Six. So now I'll pick up the discussion that everyone left off several months ago. Since I've been meaning to, really, but just dropped the ball. Butterfingers!
[Begin Spoiler for And The Half Blood Prince — Highlight to view]
The first thing I want to discuss is what pisses me off. The fact that Ron and Hermione refuse to believe Harry about Malfoy pisses me off. I may (or may not) have mentioned in the past that this is a convention I typically hate: when a character is blanketly not believed, even by those closest to him, even when he's typically a rational person. It happens a lot in horror movies. And it sucks. Similarly, it really bothers me when characters have their sanity questioned or discredited. It bugs me out. I guess it's because, in fiction anyway, it seems so easy to have all your rights and abilities instantly stripped away by the mere suspicion of mental instability. And there's nothing you can do about it!
That's not really the point, though. But I am vastly disappointed that neither of Harry's best friends thought for a minute that he might be right. And it's not like it was that far-fetched a suggestion! I did not understand why they were so against the idea. The basis for their denial seems to be "Malfoy is too young to be a Death Eater." Which, frankly, is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I suppose it could be understandable if they were thinking of the Order of the Phoenix, which seems to have an age restriction, or at least a general understanding of "too young to risk your life fighting evil." However, the flaw there is that the Order of the Phoenix cares about its members and doesn't really want to put children in danger. I doubt Voldemort gives a similar shit, really. I think it's very strange that they would think the Most Evil Wizard Ever would have any kind of scruples, especially when he's trying to build his dark army. And, unlike the Dumbledore trusting Snape thing, I really don't think Ron and Hermione have any better reasons that they're not divulging. And it's not like they haven't latched on to Harry's less founded theories, either. And it's not like either of them want to believe the best of Malfoy. And they don't think Malfoy's too incompetent, either, so I really don't know what's up with it. It's extremely annoying and rather detracts from my enjoyment of the book. It's about the only thing, but it's a pretty big thing.
Now, onto thing Number Two. That thing being: Harry is still a Horcrux. Yeah, he is. But the important thing is that I think I've come up with a way it's likely to turn out.
Pat made an entry way back describing why he doesn't like the idea of Harry being a Horcrux. Which was fair. But one of the things he brought up was the suggestion that if Harry is a Horcrux, he needs to be destroyed in order for Voldemort to be destroyed. And that's something I've wanted to address since. Because: no he doesn't. In the book we learn that a Horcrux can, indeed, be un-Horcrucified. Of course, I don't know exactly how that works, but it seems to involve fire and danger. So, it's probably not a walk through the park, but it's doable. And if Harry is a Horcrux (which he totally is) then I'm sure there's a way to undo that while causing him no lasting harm.
Then I was thinking about the prophecy, and how this relates to it. I guess prophecies are meant to sound lacey and, well, arty-farty, but I've always thought the wording "neither can live while the other survives" was a little weird. Of course, I'm a language enthusiast and a drama geek, so I might be reading too much into it, but I think there's a definite difference in meaning between the word "lives" and the word "survives." Why couldn't it be "neither can live while the other also lives"? That would have been more straightforward. I think because it was ambiguous as to the state of the survival of the participants. Surely, Voldemort can't live pleasantly if Harry's still alive, because he'd always be up to mischief and foiling his evil schemes. But why does Harry have to knock off Voldemort? Perhaps the prophecy means that Harry has to get rid of the last vestige of Voldemort - the part that's inside himself - so that he can get to living life like a real boy.
The benefit of this interpretation is that Harry would not actually have to kill Voldemort. He would merely need to stop the last part of Voldemort surviving . See, the big reveal at the end of OotP was that Harry was going to have to kill Voldemort. Or, you know, die by his hand. And I found this to be pretty anti-climactic, because, well, isn't that what we all expected? I mean, we've all read stories before, so we're not new at this. I was confused as to what the big deal was, and I was a bit chagrined when the author pointed it out to me: Murder is bad. Oh yeah. Whoops. Killing people, it seems, is something you want to avoid doing if at all possible. In fact, killing people rips your soul in half . Ouch! This is probably something that you want to avoid happening to the hero of your story. However, the prophecy says that Harry has to kill Voldemort. Or does it? And thus my point.
So, Harry's a Horcrux, but that's actually probably a good thing. Huh.
Ron and Hermione need to be kicked in the nuts for that other crap, though. I'm serious.
[End Spoiler]
Also, I watched some television shows yesterday, and they were pretty good.
[Begin Spoiler for And The Half Blood Prince — Highlight to view]
The first thing I want to discuss is what pisses me off. The fact that Ron and Hermione refuse to believe Harry about Malfoy pisses me off. I may (or may not) have mentioned in the past that this is a convention I typically hate: when a character is blanketly not believed, even by those closest to him, even when he's typically a rational person. It happens a lot in horror movies. And it sucks. Similarly, it really bothers me when characters have their sanity questioned or discredited. It bugs me out. I guess it's because, in fiction anyway, it seems so easy to have all your rights and abilities instantly stripped away by the mere suspicion of mental instability. And there's nothing you can do about it!
That's not really the point, though. But I am vastly disappointed that neither of Harry's best friends thought for a minute that he might be right. And it's not like it was that far-fetched a suggestion! I did not understand why they were so against the idea. The basis for their denial seems to be "Malfoy is too young to be a Death Eater." Which, frankly, is the stupidest thing I've ever heard. I suppose it could be understandable if they were thinking of the Order of the Phoenix, which seems to have an age restriction, or at least a general understanding of "too young to risk your life fighting evil." However, the flaw there is that the Order of the Phoenix cares about its members and doesn't really want to put children in danger. I doubt Voldemort gives a similar shit, really. I think it's very strange that they would think the Most Evil Wizard Ever would have any kind of scruples, especially when he's trying to build his dark army. And, unlike the Dumbledore trusting Snape thing, I really don't think Ron and Hermione have any better reasons that they're not divulging. And it's not like they haven't latched on to Harry's less founded theories, either. And it's not like either of them want to believe the best of Malfoy. And they don't think Malfoy's too incompetent, either, so I really don't know what's up with it. It's extremely annoying and rather detracts from my enjoyment of the book. It's about the only thing, but it's a pretty big thing.
Now, onto thing Number Two. That thing being: Harry is still a Horcrux. Yeah, he is. But the important thing is that I think I've come up with a way it's likely to turn out.
Pat made an entry way back describing why he doesn't like the idea of Harry being a Horcrux. Which was fair. But one of the things he brought up was the suggestion that if Harry is a Horcrux, he needs to be destroyed in order for Voldemort to be destroyed. And that's something I've wanted to address since. Because: no he doesn't. In the book we learn that a Horcrux can, indeed, be un-Horcrucified. Of course, I don't know exactly how that works, but it seems to involve fire and danger. So, it's probably not a walk through the park, but it's doable. And if Harry is a Horcrux (which he totally is) then I'm sure there's a way to undo that while causing him no lasting harm.
Then I was thinking about the prophecy, and how this relates to it. I guess prophecies are meant to sound lacey and, well, arty-farty, but I've always thought the wording "neither can live while the other survives" was a little weird. Of course, I'm a language enthusiast and a drama geek, so I might be reading too much into it, but I think there's a definite difference in meaning between the word "lives" and the word "survives." Why couldn't it be "neither can live while the other also lives"? That would have been more straightforward. I think because it was ambiguous as to the state of the survival of the participants. Surely, Voldemort can't live pleasantly if Harry's still alive, because he'd always be up to mischief and foiling his evil schemes. But why does Harry have to knock off Voldemort? Perhaps the prophecy means that Harry has to get rid of the last vestige of Voldemort - the part that's inside himself - so that he can get to living life like a real boy.
The benefit of this interpretation is that Harry would not actually have to kill Voldemort. He would merely need to stop the last part of Voldemort surviving . See, the big reveal at the end of OotP was that Harry was going to have to kill Voldemort. Or, you know, die by his hand. And I found this to be pretty anti-climactic, because, well, isn't that what we all expected? I mean, we've all read stories before, so we're not new at this. I was confused as to what the big deal was, and I was a bit chagrined when the author pointed it out to me: Murder is bad. Oh yeah. Whoops. Killing people, it seems, is something you want to avoid doing if at all possible. In fact, killing people rips your soul in half . Ouch! This is probably something that you want to avoid happening to the hero of your story. However, the prophecy says that Harry has to kill Voldemort. Or does it? And thus my point.
So, Harry's a Horcrux, but that's actually probably a good thing. Huh.
Ron and Hermione need to be kicked in the nuts for that other crap, though. I'm serious.
[End Spoiler]
Also, I watched some television shows yesterday, and they were pretty good.
Wednesday
*DEAD*
I considered many various witty (?) and descriptive (?) titles, but, in the end, this seems to encapsulate everything.
I just got back from Jamaica (...Queens), and boy am I fucking tired! In other words, FILMING!
On ... what was it, Tuesday? I got up at 5:45 so that I could make it to my call time of 8:30. I didn't figure out until I got into the Port Authority at 7:50 that this might have been a bit early. But it's not like I ever travel (or wake up) in the morning, so I didn't know what traffic would be like.
Filming took place at the Jamaica High School, which is so totally nicer than my high school . They have a grounds. And a dean. I didn't have any of that crap. So, I and about a hundred others were shuffled around like cattle to the auditorium, where we waited endlessly for hair and makeup while sitting about in our woolen garments. We got around to shooting at some time around 1:30, and we finished sometime before six. I now have a story to tell by way of pointing at a screen and saying "It was one billion and twelve degrees when we shot this." Just like Pop Up Video. Does VH1 still have that? Anyway. I stood around in the 82 degree heat, under the sun, in a polyester dress, wool cardigan, fleece-lined coat, and scarf. Because it was cold out. (Which makes several things in the scene irrational, but no matter) This is why, when I finally got home and got around to taking pictures of myself (I forgot my camera on both days. My hair is mostly documented, though, which is the important thing) I looked completely melted. My hair was adorable and flippy and poofy in the morning. 12 hours later, when I photgraphed it, it was not so much. MELTED. For us there was no recourse. For the small group of principle girls, there was frequent makeup touch-ups. Then there was the young ingenue, the star of the film, who for argument's sake I will call "Miss W." Miss W. had someone following her around with a big black parasol.
Stuff and business. Then I went home. I got home between 8:30 and 9. Then I called for my call day for today. (Is it still today?) Which was for 4:30AM.
Blink.
"Damn."
Then I had to figure out how I was going to get there. There's no public transportation that runs that early. Or, late. A small parental extortion later, and I had scheduled a cab to pick me up at 3:45. Then I ate a bowl of cereal. Then I went to sleep. Or rather, I had a brief nap. Then I got up again! And went back in.
Today we had our prom. Aw. It was one of the musical numbers. The song was "Hold Me Tight." An interesting choice! It was actually sung by Miss W., who is a suprisingly good singer. Surprising because I've never really thought about whether or not she can sing. But she certainly can!
Hair was an immense undertaking. Makeup too, but mostly hair. And all the ladies wore corsetesque bras that I'm pretty sure have bruised my hip bones. I wore my big pink puffball, and waited for hair and makeup. And somehow, despite being one of the first people on line, I was one of the last to get finished up. I was tired and disappointed. And I wound up being a wallflower, because they ran out of gentlemen for the ladies to dance with. Except for three young black men, who, as denizens of the 1960s, were unacceptable mates. So I sat and tapped my toes and looked disappointedly at the dance floor. It was an entirely authentic performance, I assure you.
Then SAG members and faux-SAG members (of which I was one) had a hour of lunch for reasons I can't guess at, because immediately after lunch we went home. I kept my hair and makeup, even though I might have looked like a drag queen up close. A very nice woman spent about half an hour elaborately painting me, and she was sure that I was going to be right up front. Which was nice of her. But I guess it will depend on which shot they use. Um. I kept the hair and makeup so that I could take pictures, which I did, and also show my mother, which I have.
And now, having written this on a sleep ratio of 4/38 hours, I plan to try to remove the makeup which will no doubt take me the better part of a year. And then I will pass out.
I just got back from Jamaica (...Queens), and boy am I fucking tired! In other words, FILMING!
On ... what was it, Tuesday? I got up at 5:45 so that I could make it to my call time of 8:30. I didn't figure out until I got into the Port Authority at 7:50 that this might have been a bit early. But it's not like I ever travel (or wake up) in the morning, so I didn't know what traffic would be like.
Filming took place at the Jamaica High School, which is so totally nicer than my high school . They have a grounds. And a dean. I didn't have any of that crap. So, I and about a hundred others were shuffled around like cattle to the auditorium, where we waited endlessly for hair and makeup while sitting about in our woolen garments. We got around to shooting at some time around 1:30, and we finished sometime before six. I now have a story to tell by way of pointing at a screen and saying "It was one billion and twelve degrees when we shot this." Just like Pop Up Video. Does VH1 still have that? Anyway. I stood around in the 82 degree heat, under the sun, in a polyester dress, wool cardigan, fleece-lined coat, and scarf. Because it was cold out. (Which makes several things in the scene irrational, but no matter) This is why, when I finally got home and got around to taking pictures of myself (I forgot my camera on both days. My hair is mostly documented, though, which is the important thing) I looked completely melted. My hair was adorable and flippy and poofy in the morning. 12 hours later, when I photgraphed it, it was not so much. MELTED. For us there was no recourse. For the small group of principle girls, there was frequent makeup touch-ups. Then there was the young ingenue, the star of the film, who for argument's sake I will call "Miss W." Miss W. had someone following her around with a big black parasol.
Stuff and business. Then I went home. I got home between 8:30 and 9. Then I called for my call day for today. (Is it still today?) Which was for 4:30AM.
Blink.
"Damn."
Then I had to figure out how I was going to get there. There's no public transportation that runs that early. Or, late. A small parental extortion later, and I had scheduled a cab to pick me up at 3:45. Then I ate a bowl of cereal. Then I went to sleep. Or rather, I had a brief nap. Then I got up again! And went back in.
Today we had our prom. Aw. It was one of the musical numbers. The song was "Hold Me Tight." An interesting choice! It was actually sung by Miss W., who is a suprisingly good singer. Surprising because I've never really thought about whether or not she can sing. But she certainly can!
Hair was an immense undertaking. Makeup too, but mostly hair. And all the ladies wore corsetesque bras that I'm pretty sure have bruised my hip bones. I wore my big pink puffball, and waited for hair and makeup. And somehow, despite being one of the first people on line, I was one of the last to get finished up. I was tired and disappointed. And I wound up being a wallflower, because they ran out of gentlemen for the ladies to dance with. Except for three young black men, who, as denizens of the 1960s, were unacceptable mates. So I sat and tapped my toes and looked disappointedly at the dance floor. It was an entirely authentic performance, I assure you.
Then SAG members and faux-SAG members (of which I was one) had a hour of lunch for reasons I can't guess at, because immediately after lunch we went home. I kept my hair and makeup, even though I might have looked like a drag queen up close. A very nice woman spent about half an hour elaborately painting me, and she was sure that I was going to be right up front. Which was nice of her. But I guess it will depend on which shot they use. Um. I kept the hair and makeup so that I could take pictures, which I did, and also show my mother, which I have.
And now, having written this on a sleep ratio of 4/38 hours, I plan to try to remove the makeup which will no doubt take me the better part of a year. And then I will pass out.
Friday
I'm one degree from Kirsten Dunst!
Ask me how!
Also. I have determined that my new hair cut makes me look alarmingly like the film depiction of Pansy Parkinson. Not in the picture I posted, though, so don't compare.
I'll leave it to Beth to determine what this says about my taste in boys.
Also. I have determined that my new hair cut makes me look alarmingly like the film depiction of Pansy Parkinson. Not in the picture I posted, though, so don't compare.
I'll leave it to Beth to determine what this says about my taste in boys.
Thursday
Speaking of stupid.
Lost is back!
Um. Lost is not stupid. It was pretty good. But Jack needs to be kicked, or perhaps punched, right in the nuts.
[Begin Spoiler for Lost 2.1 — Highlight to view]
He dropped the torch down the hatch hole! With the rope leading down it! WHAT IF SOMEONE HAD BEEN CLIMBING DOWN THE ROPE, JACK? Or standing at the bottom?? Geez! What is his problem??
Also, even if you don't like someone, when a shady character is holding a gun to his head and you hold that person's life in your hands? It's not the best time to get all jerky with the "I told you so"s. God. What a Jack ass. I almost hope he dies. And it's only the first episode! We'll see how he does.
Also, I pretty much knew ... 97% maybe, that the nice quasi-mystical fellow with the really bad Irish/Scottish accent was going to wind up in the hatch. It was still totally weird, though.
Shallow note: Shannon's hair is ever-so-slightly longer than it was at the end of last season. It's distracting. Also, I'm jealous.
[End Spoiler]
I also watched "Invasion" which I don't think I'll do again. I only watched it because it seemed to totally parallel the plot of an episode of The Outer Limits that was described to me recently. Totally! The crazy brother is a really good actor, though. Definitely the best on the show. Take that, William Fitchner!
Um. Lost is not stupid. It was pretty good. But Jack needs to be kicked, or perhaps punched, right in the nuts.
[Begin Spoiler for Lost 2.1 — Highlight to view]
He dropped the torch down the hatch hole! With the rope leading down it! WHAT IF SOMEONE HAD BEEN CLIMBING DOWN THE ROPE, JACK? Or standing at the bottom?? Geez! What is his problem??
Also, even if you don't like someone, when a shady character is holding a gun to his head and you hold that person's life in your hands? It's not the best time to get all jerky with the "I told you so"s. God. What a Jack ass. I almost hope he dies. And it's only the first episode! We'll see how he does.
Also, I pretty much knew ... 97% maybe, that the nice quasi-mystical fellow with the really bad Irish/Scottish accent was going to wind up in the hatch. It was still totally weird, though.
Shallow note: Shannon's hair is ever-so-slightly longer than it was at the end of last season. It's distracting. Also, I'm jealous.
[End Spoiler]
I also watched "Invasion" which I don't think I'll do again. I only watched it because it seemed to totally parallel the plot of an episode of The Outer Limits that was described to me recently. Totally! The crazy brother is a really good actor, though. Definitely the best on the show. Take that, William Fitchner!
Wednesday
I'm sorry if my aunt is one of the worst hurricanes on record.
So, hurricanes, man. Of all the things you can say about them, I've chosen to pick perhaps one of the least important aspects of them and make a fuss over it.
The naming of them.
Now, I understand why hurricanes are given names. It's much more immediate, even when you look at the abbreviated history of storms on news pages or what not. Hurricane Katrina kills people! Hurricane Andrew kills people! Hurricane Camille kills people! And then there was like this hurricane that was back around the turn of the century and it was really big? Yeah, killed people.
Back in the early 90s, my sister's soon-to-be husband was named Andrew. That was around when I started considering this. It was brought up again by a small editorial in my local paper, that I read while I was using said paper to catch drips as I painted a trim in my kitchen, describing the thoughts of some ladies named Katrina to the fact that they, it seems, destroyed New Orleans. And now there's Hurricane Rita the Category 5. Of course, like a good guinea, I have an aunt named Rita.
Does this strike anyone else as something of a bad idea? As I've said, I understand the rationale behind naming them. But must they be given peoples' names? A little girl in that article said that her classmates had been making fun of her name. Not, of course, that this is the greatest tragedy of the whole thing, but, seriously. Some things can't be helped and some things can. Having the same first name as the Long Island Lolita certainly didn't do me any favors in sixth grade.
What if, for example, you had a beloved grandmother Katrina, and you were about to give birth to a baby girl, and you could think of no better tribute than to name her after dear granny? Now, for the rest of her life (or at least for the next ten years, with varying frequency) you'll be asked why you named your child after the storm that decimated the Big Easy.
Now, with a storm like "Ophelia" -- it's not that bad. Because it's not a name many people have, and it's already famous for another reason. But "Katrina" -- that means Hurricane now. That means relief funds and refugees (or not, if you find that racist!) and floodwaters.
Then, here's a morbid consideration - if your name comes up for a hurricane, how well do you want it to do? Think about it. I mean, really, you don't want your storm to level cities and kill hundreds. Or do you? This is your shot for the record books, right? You don't want to be lame and never make it past tropical storm status, do you? Or hell, tropical depression ?? But do you really feel like having your name tied to the infamous? It's the only one you've got. (Unless you don't have a real name.)
I mean, my aunt (who may have to start going by Marguerite) has been around for quite some time. I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate me saying how long. But the better part of a century. A lot longer than this hurricane. Yet I know she's going to hear about it. I know she's going to have to think about it and its attendent destruction in relation to herself. Because, hell, that's what I'd do.
It's like this terrible commercial that I saw with my mother while we were watching Lost (hi Steph!). Although I didn't say these exact words, my thought was, "Gee, aren't you glad you lived so long to witness this?" Seriously, that's how bad it was.
It's sort of the same feeling. As stated, this is not the most terrible or lasting thing about hurricanes. But ... isn't it kind of stupid? Seriously? What's to be lost by naming hurricanes after ancient gods, or something anthropomorphic yet still mostly impersonal like that? At least they don't have feelings to hurt. Unless you've actually named your child Zeus. In which case ... he's got bigger problems.
The naming of them.
Now, I understand why hurricanes are given names. It's much more immediate, even when you look at the abbreviated history of storms on news pages or what not. Hurricane Katrina kills people! Hurricane Andrew kills people! Hurricane Camille kills people! And then there was like this hurricane that was back around the turn of the century and it was really big? Yeah, killed people.
Back in the early 90s, my sister's soon-to-be husband was named Andrew. That was around when I started considering this. It was brought up again by a small editorial in my local paper, that I read while I was using said paper to catch drips as I painted a trim in my kitchen, describing the thoughts of some ladies named Katrina to the fact that they, it seems, destroyed New Orleans. And now there's Hurricane Rita the Category 5. Of course, like a good guinea, I have an aunt named Rita.
Does this strike anyone else as something of a bad idea? As I've said, I understand the rationale behind naming them. But must they be given peoples' names? A little girl in that article said that her classmates had been making fun of her name. Not, of course, that this is the greatest tragedy of the whole thing, but, seriously. Some things can't be helped and some things can. Having the same first name as the Long Island Lolita certainly didn't do me any favors in sixth grade.
What if, for example, you had a beloved grandmother Katrina, and you were about to give birth to a baby girl, and you could think of no better tribute than to name her after dear granny? Now, for the rest of her life (or at least for the next ten years, with varying frequency) you'll be asked why you named your child after the storm that decimated the Big Easy.
Now, with a storm like "Ophelia" -- it's not that bad. Because it's not a name many people have, and it's already famous for another reason. But "Katrina" -- that means Hurricane now. That means relief funds and refugees (or not, if you find that racist!) and floodwaters.
Then, here's a morbid consideration - if your name comes up for a hurricane, how well do you want it to do? Think about it. I mean, really, you don't want your storm to level cities and kill hundreds. Or do you? This is your shot for the record books, right? You don't want to be lame and never make it past tropical storm status, do you? Or hell, tropical depression ?? But do you really feel like having your name tied to the infamous? It's the only one you've got. (Unless you don't have a real name.)
I mean, my aunt (who may have to start going by Marguerite) has been around for quite some time. I'm sure she wouldn't appreciate me saying how long. But the better part of a century. A lot longer than this hurricane. Yet I know she's going to hear about it. I know she's going to have to think about it and its attendent destruction in relation to herself. Because, hell, that's what I'd do.
It's like this terrible commercial that I saw with my mother while we were watching Lost (hi Steph!). Although I didn't say these exact words, my thought was, "Gee, aren't you glad you lived so long to witness this?" Seriously, that's how bad it was.
It's sort of the same feeling. As stated, this is not the most terrible or lasting thing about hurricanes. But ... isn't it kind of stupid? Seriously? What's to be lost by naming hurricanes after ancient gods, or something anthropomorphic yet still mostly impersonal like that? At least they don't have feelings to hurt. Unless you've actually named your child Zeus. In which case ... he's got bigger problems.
Thursday
Oh, yeah, incidentally?
I'M FUCKING BALD!!!
My hair has not been this short in ... dude. I don't even frigging know. Also, when I was trying to get a decent picture, I realized that I look alarmingly like my mother. This could be the hair, or it could be my RAPID DEGENERATIVE AGING DISEASE.
Also, this is (hopefully) not how my hair will look. This is how it looked immediately after getting home after walking through some rain and hideous humidity. I'm still wearing those clothes. And my shirt still has small sliced hairs upon it. Because that's how real time this is, bitches!
I have no hair!
My hair has not been this short in ... dude. I don't even frigging know. Also, when I was trying to get a decent picture, I realized that I look alarmingly like my mother. This could be the hair, or it could be my RAPID DEGENERATIVE AGING DISEASE.
Also, this is (hopefully) not how my hair will look. This is how it looked immediately after getting home after walking through some rain and hideous humidity. I'm still wearing those clothes. And my shirt still has small sliced hairs upon it. Because that's how real time this is, bitches!
I have no hair!
Wednesday
A haircut, a real job, and the attainment thereof.
So far, I've been paid to have people dress me up and do my hair.
I would have to say that I've definitely chosen the right profession for me. Now all I have to do is do this all the time. And not, say, just this once. We'll see how that goes.
In other news, my real world job told me to fuck off on Monday. Wait. No. That's what I told them. Only, in my head. They said they no longer required my services.
AND I COULD NOT BE HAPPIER.
I would have to say that I've definitely chosen the right profession for me. Now all I have to do is do this all the time. And not, say, just this once. We'll see how that goes.
In other news, my real world job told me to fuck off on Monday. Wait. No. That's what I told them. Only, in my head. They said they no longer required my services.
AND I COULD NOT BE HAPPIER.
Tuesday
I like this aspect.
An editorial from the Times-Picayune, September 6, by Chris Rose.
Louisiana ambassadors say hello
Dear America,
I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We're South Louisiana.
We have arrived on your doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but we never were much for waiting around for invitations. We're not much on formalities like that.
And we might be staying around your town for a while, enrolling in your schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a few things about us. We know you didn't ask for this and neither did we, so we're just going to have to make the best of it.
First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your food, your prayers, your boats and buses and the men and women of your National Guards, fire departments, hospitals and everyone else who has come to our rescue.
We're a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don't cotton much to outside interference, but we're not ashamed to accept help when we need it. And right now, we need it.
Just don't get carried away. For instance, once we get around to fishing again, don't try to tell us what kind of lures work best in your waters.
We're not going to listen. We're stubborn that way.
You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard.
We dance even if there's no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large and, frankly, we're suspicious of others who don't.
But we'll try not to judge you while we're in your town.
Everybody loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a ferocity that borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead in LSU sweatshirts.
Often we don't make sense. You may wonder why, for instance - if we could only carry one small bag of belongings with us on our journey to your state - why in God's name did we bring a pair of shrimp boots?
We can't really explain that. It is what it is.
You've probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us cannot fathom a life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere.
The only way you could understand that is if you have been there, and so many of you have. So you realize that when you strip away all the craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all that hooey, really, the best thing about where we come from is us.
We are what made this place a national treasure. We're good people. And don't be afraid to ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all the time.
When you meet us now and you look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told. Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces.
But don't pity us. We're gonna make it. We're resilient. After all, we've been rooting for the Saints for 35 years. That's got to count for something.
OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at inappropriate times.
But what the hell.
And one more thing: In our part of the country, we're used to having visitors. It's our way of life.
So when all this is over and we move back home, we will repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this season of our despair.
That is our promise. That is our faith.
Louisiana ambassadors say hello
Dear America,
I suppose we should introduce ourselves: We're South Louisiana.
We have arrived on your doorstep on short notice and we apologize for that, but we never were much for waiting around for invitations. We're not much on formalities like that.
And we might be staying around your town for a while, enrolling in your schools and looking for jobs, so we wanted to tell you a few things about us. We know you didn't ask for this and neither did we, so we're just going to have to make the best of it.
First of all, we thank you. For your money, your water, your food, your prayers, your boats and buses and the men and women of your National Guards, fire departments, hospitals and everyone else who has come to our rescue.
We're a fiercely proud and independent people, and we don't cotton much to outside interference, but we're not ashamed to accept help when we need it. And right now, we need it.
Just don't get carried away. For instance, once we get around to fishing again, don't try to tell us what kind of lures work best in your waters.
We're not going to listen. We're stubborn that way.
You probably already know that we talk funny and listen to strange music and eat things you'd probably hire an exterminator to get out of your yard.
We dance even if there's no radio. We drink at funerals. We talk too much and laugh too loud and live too large and, frankly, we're suspicious of others who don't.
But we'll try not to judge you while we're in your town.
Everybody loves their home, we know that. But we love South Louisiana with a ferocity that borders on the pathological. Sometimes we bury our dead in LSU sweatshirts.
Often we don't make sense. You may wonder why, for instance - if we could only carry one small bag of belongings with us on our journey to your state - why in God's name did we bring a pair of shrimp boots?
We can't really explain that. It is what it is.
You've probably heard that many of us stayed behind. As bad as it is, many of us cannot fathom a life outside of our border, out in that place we call Elsewhere.
The only way you could understand that is if you have been there, and so many of you have. So you realize that when you strip away all the craziness and bars and parades and music and architecture and all that hooey, really, the best thing about where we come from is us.
We are what made this place a national treasure. We're good people. And don't be afraid to ask us how to pronounce our names. It happens all the time.
When you meet us now and you look into our eyes, you will see the saddest story ever told. Our hearts are broken into a thousand pieces.
But don't pity us. We're gonna make it. We're resilient. After all, we've been rooting for the Saints for 35 years. That's got to count for something.
OK, maybe something else you should know is that we make jokes at inappropriate times.
But what the hell.
And one more thing: In our part of the country, we're used to having visitors. It's our way of life.
So when all this is over and we move back home, we will repay to you the hospitality and generosity of spirit you offer to us in this season of our despair.
That is our promise. That is our faith.
Sunday
That's all I was looking for.
"But to my country I want to say this: During this crisis you failed us. You looked down on us; you dismissed our victims; you dismissed us. You want our Jazz Fest, you want our Mardi Gras, you want our cooking and our music. Then when you saw us in real trouble, when you saw a tiny minority preying on the weak among us, you called us 'Sin City,' and turned your backs.
Well, we are a lot more than all that. And though we may seem the most exotic, the most atmospheric and, at times, the most downtrodden part of this land, we are still part of it. We are Americans. We are you."
-- Anne Rice September 4, 2005
Well, we are a lot more than all that. And though we may seem the most exotic, the most atmospheric and, at times, the most downtrodden part of this land, we are still part of it. We are Americans. We are you."
-- Anne Rice September 4, 2005
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