These are the most awesome things I've ever seen in my entire life and they make me want to sing.
Teen girl squad mittens. The girl who made them is very likely the next messiah.
If'n you don't know for what I speak, I suggest you hightail it over to homestarrunner.com and watch funny in action.
Might I suggest a wee taste of episode 8?
Friday, April 14, 2006
Sunday, April 09, 2006
The funniest thing...
I went to the doctor today...
About a month ago, I noticed....
...well, you know when you've got a dry throat and you swallow a pill or bit of food or something? You know that stuck feeling? That's what I had.
...so I noticed that it felt as though something was caught in my throat. I was in the midst of tests, papers, and assignments, so I wasn't able to deal with it. I said to myself that it was probably stress, so if it didn't clear up after I was finished all these things, I'd see someone about it.
Aside from that, the bulk of my time was spend on assignments in my Speech Pathology class and I know my own psychology enough to know that it was entirely possible that some sort of psychosomatic thing was going on. I'd studied so much on throat defects.
The 6th came...that was the day I was clear of all that school stuff. I worked at "day-work" all day, and then went to the theatre that night...finished working at midnight. I came home and I started to fret. I was certain I had some sort of throat cancer. I tossed and turned that night until 2:30'ish quitely crying so that I wouldn't wake up bf. I decided I needed to see the doctor.
I went today (long story as to why not friday). I want to say here that if you live in the Mission area of Calgary and you want to go to the walk-in clinic on 4th and 23rd...don't. The doctor is pompus, arrogant and won't listen to you. After 5 minutes of talking to me, he asked me if I was hoarse! He'd been listening to me...shouldn't he know if I was hoarse?
Blah blah blah...the upshot of this is:
I called my mum (as one does) and explained how the dr. swabbed my throat and sent me out, but I was not satisfied because I was certain my problem was not an infection. My cousin happened to be over visting Mum. She (my cousin) called me back and told me how, apparently, a few of my family members get this with intense stress. She (they had discovered she had a brain tumor soon after she had her baby) was so freaked out that she choked on tea because her throat felt just like mine did.
The doctor told her it was stress and if she stopped thinking about it, it would go away. She said, once she heard that, it was gone in two days.
I talked to her at 5'ish. It's 2am now and my throat feels almost back to normal.
Weird, hey?
About a month ago, I noticed....
...well, you know when you've got a dry throat and you swallow a pill or bit of food or something? You know that stuck feeling? That's what I had.
...so I noticed that it felt as though something was caught in my throat. I was in the midst of tests, papers, and assignments, so I wasn't able to deal with it. I said to myself that it was probably stress, so if it didn't clear up after I was finished all these things, I'd see someone about it.
Aside from that, the bulk of my time was spend on assignments in my Speech Pathology class and I know my own psychology enough to know that it was entirely possible that some sort of psychosomatic thing was going on. I'd studied so much on throat defects.
The 6th came...that was the day I was clear of all that school stuff. I worked at "day-work" all day, and then went to the theatre that night...finished working at midnight. I came home and I started to fret. I was certain I had some sort of throat cancer. I tossed and turned that night until 2:30'ish quitely crying so that I wouldn't wake up bf. I decided I needed to see the doctor.
I went today (long story as to why not friday). I want to say here that if you live in the Mission area of Calgary and you want to go to the walk-in clinic on 4th and 23rd...don't. The doctor is pompus, arrogant and won't listen to you. After 5 minutes of talking to me, he asked me if I was hoarse! He'd been listening to me...shouldn't he know if I was hoarse?
Blah blah blah...the upshot of this is:
I called my mum (as one does) and explained how the dr. swabbed my throat and sent me out, but I was not satisfied because I was certain my problem was not an infection. My cousin happened to be over visting Mum. She (my cousin) called me back and told me how, apparently, a few of my family members get this with intense stress. She (they had discovered she had a brain tumor soon after she had her baby) was so freaked out that she choked on tea because her throat felt just like mine did.
The doctor told her it was stress and if she stopped thinking about it, it would go away. She said, once she heard that, it was gone in two days.
I talked to her at 5'ish. It's 2am now and my throat feels almost back to normal.
Weird, hey?
Chomsky
I am very familiar with Chomsky's theories...
...on language, that is.
I am not quite as familiar with Chomsky's social views.
This gets me in trouble.
For the last few weeks, I've been involved in a debate over Chomsky and his alleged 'hypocrisy' involving my friend Bumf, and his partial posting of this guy's article that ended up in the Western Standard. Well, these guys might not know I've been involved in this debate, but I assure you, students in the linguistics department at the UofC do.
W.G.'s argument was that Chomsky is a hypocrite because he believes language is an innate feature of the human mind...and he's left wing.
I'm not going to get into all that right now. You can read it in my post before this, if you want. I did eventually comment to W.G. and I hope he responds.
But this whole thing has been haunting me.
Now...this being the case, I did a little research. I intend to do more because I think starting my M.A. in linguistics in the fall would warrent I do a little research into philosophy beyond language acquisition...but as I do research into Chomsky's politics, I'm finding something interesting.
Now...as a woman studying linguistics, believe me...I know Chomsky can be a difficult read. Hell, I've attended a speaking engagement here in Calgary a few years ago and didn't understand a word (the acoustics were terrible). But I've seen Manufacturing Consent. My boyfriend reads Chomsky regularly. I'm not entirely blind to his politics. And I've done some additional research.
So..what I found was interesting. Frankly, I don't think anyone who argues against Chomsky has read/listend to him, either. They've certainly read/listened to each other...but not necessarily him.
They describe him as a socialist. And hate him for it. Well...my own politics aside..from what I understand, he's not. He's an anarchist (with a socialist bend). Look:
CHOMSKY: The introduction to Guerin's book that you mentioned opens with a quote from an anarchist sympathiser a century ago, who says that anarchism has a broad back, and endures anything. One major element has been what has traditionally been called 'libertarian socialism'. I've tried to explain there and elsewhere what I mean by that, stressing that it's hardly original; I'm taking the ideas from leading figures in the anarchist movement whom I quote, and who rather consistently describe themselves as socialists, while harshly condemning the 'new class' of radical intellectuals who seek to attain state power in the course of popular struggle and to become the vicious Red bureaucracy of which Bakunin warned; what's often called 'socialism'. I rather agree with Rudolf Rocker's perception that these (quite central) tendencies in anarchism draw from the best of Enlightenment and classical liberal thought, well beyond what he described. In fact, as I've tried to show they contrast sharply with Marxist-Leninist doctrine and practice, the 'libertarian' doctrines that are fashionable in the US and UK particularly, and other contemporary ideologies, all of which seem to me to reduce to advocacy of one or another form of illegitimate authority, quite often real tyranny."
So, when I read "...because he argues that our sociability is also natural, and therefore in a better world without capitalists, etc, we would all be loving socialists like him." I wonder where that came from.
From what I understand, and I do intend to get more familiar with it this summer when I have time, what he's against is extreme forms of politics...because they end up needing some sort of oppression in order to keep themselves going. That's his problem with capitalism, that an unusual amount of power has been given to "the corporation".
And actually...that's what I thought he was all about the whole time.
...on language, that is.
I am not quite as familiar with Chomsky's social views.
This gets me in trouble.
For the last few weeks, I've been involved in a debate over Chomsky and his alleged 'hypocrisy' involving my friend Bumf, and his partial posting of this guy's article that ended up in the Western Standard. Well, these guys might not know I've been involved in this debate, but I assure you, students in the linguistics department at the UofC do.
W.G.'s argument was that Chomsky is a hypocrite because he believes language is an innate feature of the human mind...and he's left wing.
I'm not going to get into all that right now. You can read it in my post before this, if you want. I did eventually comment to W.G. and I hope he responds.
But this whole thing has been haunting me.
Now...this being the case, I did a little research. I intend to do more because I think starting my M.A. in linguistics in the fall would warrent I do a little research into philosophy beyond language acquisition...but as I do research into Chomsky's politics, I'm finding something interesting.
Now...as a woman studying linguistics, believe me...I know Chomsky can be a difficult read. Hell, I've attended a speaking engagement here in Calgary a few years ago and didn't understand a word (the acoustics were terrible). But I've seen Manufacturing Consent. My boyfriend reads Chomsky regularly. I'm not entirely blind to his politics. And I've done some additional research.
So..what I found was interesting. Frankly, I don't think anyone who argues against Chomsky has read/listend to him, either. They've certainly read/listened to each other...but not necessarily him.
They describe him as a socialist. And hate him for it. Well...my own politics aside..from what I understand, he's not. He's an anarchist (with a socialist bend). Look:
CHOMSKY: The introduction to Guerin's book that you mentioned opens with a quote from an anarchist sympathiser a century ago, who says that anarchism has a broad back, and endures anything. One major element has been what has traditionally been called 'libertarian socialism'. I've tried to explain there and elsewhere what I mean by that, stressing that it's hardly original; I'm taking the ideas from leading figures in the anarchist movement whom I quote, and who rather consistently describe themselves as socialists, while harshly condemning the 'new class' of radical intellectuals who seek to attain state power in the course of popular struggle and to become the vicious Red bureaucracy of which Bakunin warned; what's often called 'socialism'. I rather agree with Rudolf Rocker's perception that these (quite central) tendencies in anarchism draw from the best of Enlightenment and classical liberal thought, well beyond what he described. In fact, as I've tried to show they contrast sharply with Marxist-Leninist doctrine and practice, the 'libertarian' doctrines that are fashionable in the US and UK particularly, and other contemporary ideologies, all of which seem to me to reduce to advocacy of one or another form of illegitimate authority, quite often real tyranny."
So, when I read "...because he argues that our sociability is also natural, and therefore in a better world without capitalists, etc, we would all be loving socialists like him." I wonder where that came from.
From what I understand, and I do intend to get more familiar with it this summer when I have time, what he's against is extreme forms of politics...because they end up needing some sort of oppression in order to keep themselves going. That's his problem with capitalism, that an unusual amount of power has been given to "the corporation".
And actually...that's what I thought he was all about the whole time.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Thursday, March 30, 2006
Comments on iTunes #1
I fully understand that, cognitively speaking, loving Led Zeppelin puts me at 'angsty teenage boy with greasy hair and spots' level.
But so does my love of World of Warcraft...
so, perhaps I should get an age/sex change?
But so does my love of World of Warcraft...
so, perhaps I should get an age/sex change?
Wednesday, March 29, 2006
I'd like to thank the academy...
I'm so totally getting all sentimental these days.
The semester (and year) of school is coming to a close...just a few more weeks before my last assignment is handed in, then summer then grad school.
Maybe it's the PMS, maybe it's the chocolate I just ate to aid the PMS, maybe it's the fact I'm really really tired right now, but I feel so much gratitude that I want to send everyone I've ever spoken to a thank you card.
Even the people I hate.
My parents, oh good lord, my parents...I'm never able to thank them enough. All I am able to do right now is knit them hats. This summer, when I have time, I shall shower them in knitted hats. My father shall have miniature hats for all his dogs and chickens and my mother and her husband shall have a new hat for every outfit.
My boyfriend...he gets to live with me. That's enough delirious pleasure that no hat can ever live up to. But he's been absolutely the best and of course he, too, shall have hats.
But there's more...so much more. Work people...so very kind and supportive. Makes me almost feel bad about the huge 'up yours' gesture I'm planning on giving when I leave. I'll wear a sign around my neck listing those who will get flowers and may ignore the rude display.
The semester (and year) of school is coming to a close...just a few more weeks before my last assignment is handed in, then summer then grad school.
Maybe it's the PMS, maybe it's the chocolate I just ate to aid the PMS, maybe it's the fact I'm really really tired right now, but I feel so much gratitude that I want to send everyone I've ever spoken to a thank you card.
Even the people I hate.
My parents, oh good lord, my parents...I'm never able to thank them enough. All I am able to do right now is knit them hats. This summer, when I have time, I shall shower them in knitted hats. My father shall have miniature hats for all his dogs and chickens and my mother and her husband shall have a new hat for every outfit.
My boyfriend...he gets to live with me. That's enough delirious pleasure that no hat can ever live up to. But he's been absolutely the best and of course he, too, shall have hats.
But there's more...so much more. Work people...so very kind and supportive. Makes me almost feel bad about the huge 'up yours' gesture I'm planning on giving when I leave. I'll wear a sign around my neck listing those who will get flowers and may ignore the rude display.
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
a few things I've been thinking and then I'll talk about squirrels
First:
My god I hate group projects. I like to call them 'poop projects'.
Second:
I put a bunch of stuff in my iTunes last week and it's SO lovely listening to music while writing papers n' shit. I like Joe Cocker. Shut up.
Third:
I am super duper excited about spending most of my time going to school, researching and learning about linguistics in September. For those of you who might read this blog and for those of you who did not know, I applied for law school as well. I've not heard back yet, but I have heard back from the ling dept. I've been thinking about how I would feel ~if~ I did hear from law...and I don't think I care. I haven't even checked to see ~when~ I should hear from them...so...I think I've made my decision.
*Mary Tyler Moore jump*
...aaannnddd freeze frame!
Fourth:
I have SO much to do right now that I'm amazed I'm not losing my mind all over the damn place. I'm generally pretty cheery for someone who's teetering so close to the crazy edge.
Fifth:
I've started a new thing and am now able to see into the future through my reading of omens, allow me to 'splain,
A couple of weeks ago while walking to work, I was waiting for the 'walk' light when a squeegie kid, smoke in mouth, threw a handful of pennies down in the middle of the intersection. He did so in absolute disgust.
I knew it then...I knew that this was a sign and that I, alone, had the ability to interpret it...
"Prosperous times ahead! If a squeegie kid had the ability to be choosey, so do you! This will be a good day and it's even a possiblity that a stranger will give you something which you may or may not need!"
...plus, angry squeegie kids are funny.
so...yesterday it happened again...and eeners can back me up 'cause I emailed her. I walked by a tree on campus the other day and saw a cuuute black squirrel hanging upside down with his round, cuuute belly facing me...all streched out and eating berries.
"Today will mean success through unconventional means...but you'll look adorable doing it"
I ought to get paid for this shit.
My god I hate group projects. I like to call them 'poop projects'.
Second:
I put a bunch of stuff in my iTunes last week and it's SO lovely listening to music while writing papers n' shit. I like Joe Cocker. Shut up.
Third:
I am super duper excited about spending most of my time going to school, researching and learning about linguistics in September. For those of you who might read this blog and for those of you who did not know, I applied for law school as well. I've not heard back yet, but I have heard back from the ling dept. I've been thinking about how I would feel ~if~ I did hear from law...and I don't think I care. I haven't even checked to see ~when~ I should hear from them...so...I think I've made my decision.
*Mary Tyler Moore jump*
...aaannnddd freeze frame!
Fourth:
I have SO much to do right now that I'm amazed I'm not losing my mind all over the damn place. I'm generally pretty cheery for someone who's teetering so close to the crazy edge.
Fifth:
I've started a new thing and am now able to see into the future through my reading of omens, allow me to 'splain,
A couple of weeks ago while walking to work, I was waiting for the 'walk' light when a squeegie kid, smoke in mouth, threw a handful of pennies down in the middle of the intersection. He did so in absolute disgust.
I knew it then...I knew that this was a sign and that I, alone, had the ability to interpret it...
"Prosperous times ahead! If a squeegie kid had the ability to be choosey, so do you! This will be a good day and it's even a possiblity that a stranger will give you something which you may or may not need!"
...plus, angry squeegie kids are funny.
so...yesterday it happened again...and eeners can back me up 'cause I emailed her. I walked by a tree on campus the other day and saw a cuuute black squirrel hanging upside down with his round, cuuute belly facing me...all streched out and eating berries.
"Today will mean success through unconventional means...but you'll look adorable doing it"
I ought to get paid for this shit.
Monday, March 27, 2006
Saturday, March 25, 2006
On Chomsky...
I have to admit.
I am familiar with Chomsky's political and social views, but not as familiar as I am with his linguistic views...so I needed the help of a book.
From a very broad, but useful reference to have around the house, I managed to find in words a general overview of how Chomsky's social/political theories mesh with those linguistic theories. I am in the midst of writing a paper, so I don't have time to go much deeper into it at the moment, but those folks at the Western Standard who were involved with this post seemed to have done less research than I did.
From Philosophy: 100 Essential Thinkers by P. Stokes (I know...not exactly an academic source, but all I've got at the moment)
...
"This hardwiring is, like other cognitive faculties, an aspect of our human nature. Chomsky sees this as having positive political implications. Rather than being the blank sheet of Lockean empiricism, or the unconstrained free agents of existentialism, our very nature prevents us from being subjugated by extreme and wayward forces. Our nature determines that there are only certain possible political systems that we can tolerate. Oppressive political systems...cannot completely mould our minds. Our thoughts are not, as the behavioural psychologists earlier in the twentieth century had supposed, merely conditiond responses to repeated stimuli. The concept of being a free agent is as hardwired into our nature as the constraints that act on our forms of speech.
...
He has been a constant critic of US foreign policy and of US involvement in Vietnam, Cambodia and the Gulf Wars. He remains an active supporter of radical social change in the US, as well as continuing his work as a linguist and theoretical philosopher. He describes his political view as 'libertarian socialist' - a blend of socialism and anarchism."
thoughts?
I am familiar with Chomsky's political and social views, but not as familiar as I am with his linguistic views...so I needed the help of a book.
From a very broad, but useful reference to have around the house, I managed to find in words a general overview of how Chomsky's social/political theories mesh with those linguistic theories. I am in the midst of writing a paper, so I don't have time to go much deeper into it at the moment, but those folks at the Western Standard who were involved with this post seemed to have done less research than I did.
From Philosophy: 100 Essential Thinkers by P. Stokes (I know...not exactly an academic source, but all I've got at the moment)
...
"This hardwiring is, like other cognitive faculties, an aspect of our human nature. Chomsky sees this as having positive political implications. Rather than being the blank sheet of Lockean empiricism, or the unconstrained free agents of existentialism, our very nature prevents us from being subjugated by extreme and wayward forces. Our nature determines that there are only certain possible political systems that we can tolerate. Oppressive political systems...cannot completely mould our minds. Our thoughts are not, as the behavioural psychologists earlier in the twentieth century had supposed, merely conditiond responses to repeated stimuli. The concept of being a free agent is as hardwired into our nature as the constraints that act on our forms of speech.
...
He has been a constant critic of US foreign policy and of US involvement in Vietnam, Cambodia and the Gulf Wars. He remains an active supporter of radical social change in the US, as well as continuing his work as a linguist and theoretical philosopher. He describes his political view as 'libertarian socialist' - a blend of socialism and anarchism."
thoughts?
Monday, March 20, 2006
Plastics! That's what I'll get into!
I got accepted into grad studies in linguistics.
I start in September.
whew
I start in September.
whew
Sunday, March 19, 2006
"The Frame"
Today I'm going to talk a little about art. Funny, I was going to do this anyway and dug out my Zappa autobiography (the reason will become clear in a minute) then I saw this post at my friend Huck's blog and I got all fired up.
A few caveats: I'm no expert, just an 'enjoyer' of art.
Oh...there's only one? I was sure there was more...
Now...the reason Zappa's picture is up for this post is the following: If memory serves me correctly, I was about 19 in Victoria when I saw his autobiography sitting in Monroe's books. I read it, enjoyed it and what he said about art I have taken with me since...and I've not found a better explanation yet. Forgive me for this, but frankly (no pun), I can't figure out why people fight me so hard on it.
And here it is. I'm going to write what he said, first:
The Frame
The most important thing in art is The Frame. For painting: literally; for other arts: figuratively-because, without this humble appliance, you can't know where The Art stops and The Real World begins.
You have to put a 'box' around it because otherwise, what is that shit on the wall?
If John Cage, for instance, says, "I'm putting a contact microphone on my throat, and I'm going to drink carrot juice, and that's my composition," then his gurgling qualifies as his composition because he put a frame around it and said so. "Take it or leave it, I now will this to be music." After that it's a matter of taste. Without the frame-as-announced, it's a guy swallowing carrot juice.
(Frank Zappa, 1989 (emphasis his))
*ahem* (emphasis mine, now)
After that it's a matter of taste.
That is what I think of art. I cannot stand it when someone says one of the next two things:
"That's not art!"
"I could have done that."
...because, yes...it is. It may not be art you like, it may not be good art at all...but it is art...and maybe you could have...you didn't, he/she did and someone liked it enough that now you're seeing it in a public area. So, too bad you didn't think of it and they did.
(and one day I'm going to write a post about how I'm all for using 'they' as a genderless singular pronoun)
Now, please understand, there is a huge difference between good and bad art and just because I think it's art if the artist says it's art doesn't mean I think it's good. Just because I believe that when B. Spears says what she does is music, it is music, doesn't mean I don't think it's crap music.
But, also just because you don't want to hang it on your wall (I'm thinking of Duchamp's 'fountain' right now) doesn't mean it's not an important, relevant, and/or influencial piece of art.
What I'm saying is this: it is not art based on whether you like it or not. Art does not have to be pretty...and thank christ for that. If it doesn't speak to you, it may speak to someone else...and who are you to judge?
Ummm...yeah. I kinda got distracted just now, so I'll end this here.
*curtsy*
A few caveats: I'm no expert, just an 'enjoyer' of art.
Oh...there's only one? I was sure there was more...
Now...the reason Zappa's picture is up for this post is the following: If memory serves me correctly, I was about 19 in Victoria when I saw his autobiography sitting in Monroe's books. I read it, enjoyed it and what he said about art I have taken with me since...and I've not found a better explanation yet. Forgive me for this, but frankly (no pun), I can't figure out why people fight me so hard on it.
And here it is. I'm going to write what he said, first:
The Frame
The most important thing in art is The Frame. For painting: literally; for other arts: figuratively-because, without this humble appliance, you can't know where The Art stops and The Real World begins.
You have to put a 'box' around it because otherwise, what is that shit on the wall?
If John Cage, for instance, says, "I'm putting a contact microphone on my throat, and I'm going to drink carrot juice, and that's my composition," then his gurgling qualifies as his composition because he put a frame around it and said so. "Take it or leave it, I now will this to be music." After that it's a matter of taste. Without the frame-as-announced, it's a guy swallowing carrot juice.
(Frank Zappa, 1989 (emphasis his))
*ahem* (emphasis mine, now)
After that it's a matter of taste.
That is what I think of art. I cannot stand it when someone says one of the next two things:
"That's not art!"
"I could have done that."
...because, yes...it is. It may not be art you like, it may not be good art at all...but it is art...and maybe you could have...you didn't, he/she did and someone liked it enough that now you're seeing it in a public area. So, too bad you didn't think of it and they did.
(and one day I'm going to write a post about how I'm all for using 'they' as a genderless singular pronoun)
Now, please understand, there is a huge difference between good and bad art and just because I think it's art if the artist says it's art doesn't mean I think it's good. Just because I believe that when B. Spears says what she does is music, it is music, doesn't mean I don't think it's crap music.
But, also just because you don't want to hang it on your wall (I'm thinking of Duchamp's 'fountain' right now) doesn't mean it's not an important, relevant, and/or influencial piece of art.
What I'm saying is this: it is not art based on whether you like it or not. Art does not have to be pretty...and thank christ for that. If it doesn't speak to you, it may speak to someone else...and who are you to judge?
Ummm...yeah. I kinda got distracted just now, so I'll end this here.
*curtsy*
Tuesday, March 14, 2006
Monday, March 13, 2006
Sunday, March 12, 2006
Saturday, March 11, 2006
winding up
Ever have those kinds of tired that come so deep from within that it's not a sleep thing, it's a soul thing?
I'm that kind of tired today.
First time in a long time I've had nothing immediate due...or was occupied with a meltdown. I've got a whole body kind of tired.
From as far back as early February, I've been going top speed in order to get the essential shit done. Either that, or my rest time was thwarted by unforseen circumstances...then lead back into top speed. It's been that far back that I haven't been awoken by anxiety attacks that ranged from annoying to crippling.
ha!
But once I got past the anxiety, I just kept my head down and powered through.
'Cept today...I've got nothing major due for 2 weeks. So when I woke up this morning, I was incredibly light headed and even had the spins when I laid down.
My remedy for that was to eat a ton and lay on the couch.
Funny, though...the body's (or maybe just my body's) response to stress, hey?
I'm that kind of tired today.
First time in a long time I've had nothing immediate due...or was occupied with a meltdown. I've got a whole body kind of tired.
From as far back as early February, I've been going top speed in order to get the essential shit done. Either that, or my rest time was thwarted by unforseen circumstances...then lead back into top speed. It's been that far back that I haven't been awoken by anxiety attacks that ranged from annoying to crippling.
ha!
But once I got past the anxiety, I just kept my head down and powered through.
'Cept today...I've got nothing major due for 2 weeks. So when I woke up this morning, I was incredibly light headed and even had the spins when I laid down.
My remedy for that was to eat a ton and lay on the couch.
Funny, though...the body's (or maybe just my body's) response to stress, hey?
Thursday, March 09, 2006
Spore
Black Mana showed me this the other day and I'm totally freaking out.
It's a game simulation by the creator of The Sims and SimCity and stuff...his newest creation that's knocked my inner nerd's socks off. No....it's made my inner nerd cry like a baby for a bottle...my very viewable outer nerd is currently sockless.
Check it out here.
It's a game simulation by the creator of The Sims and SimCity and stuff...his newest creation that's knocked my inner nerd's socks off. No....it's made my inner nerd cry like a baby for a bottle...my very viewable outer nerd is currently sockless.
Check it out here.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Johari Window
Friday, February 17, 2006
You've been...
It's 1:39 am on thurs night/fri morning and I'm finishing my takehome exam due tomorrow. Yes, I know...I ought to have done this earlier...
However...due to a remarkable (and so very quick) discovery, I am treating myself to a little blogging for being oh, so smart and figuring it out in WAY less time than I thought I would.
So gather, children, and let me tell you tales of great adventure...we (my partners in this adventure and I) call this one You Got Greased (alt title Pwned!).
I worked tonight at the theatre, along side my usual Tuesday night companions...
(yes, I know it's Thursday...I switched days...quit throwing me off)
...a sweet couple I shall call C and J.
First show goes in...
Now, J noticed this way before I did, but these two girls (young girls, may I add) made frequent trips to the bathroom...leaving fairly quickly, like, not really enough time to 'squat and wipe' as J put it.
When one girl brought out her boyfriend to stand in the lobby as she took her turn in the restroom...even I got suspicious. J finally had enough and inspected the bathroom after she left...sure enough...
Cocaine, ladies and gentlemen...the very stuff the residue of which was easily seen atop the back of one of our toilets.
Let me pause for a small aside here: I work in a theatre that's about 80 years old...started off as a garage in the 20s...and it looks that way. The place, as dear as I hold it to my heart, is a freaking mess. Those toilets, sorry to say, need cleaning. Now, to get a little personal here...I'm a squatter. I don't sit on any public toilet unless I have a nest of a thousand tissues. The public restroom in question, well, I don't use it unless I can manage practically standing (besides, I know where the executive bathroom is).
So..imagine my shock, not only that 16'ish year old girls are inhaling the devil's dust, and not only because they were there with an adult (someone's mum? I dunno...), but why on earth would you injest anything that was sitting on the back of any toilet, much less one of ours???
After she went back into the theatre, C, J and I went to work. My first idea was to spread comet on the back of the toilet. After quick discussion, we decided that if a 16 year old is strung out enough, they may be stupid enough to think the coke-fairy has come and dropped off a pile of the stuff on the top of each toilet in the bathroom. We decided that revenge would not be as sweet with a dead teen on our hands, so I used the opportunity to give the toilets a quick wipedown.
If you wanna see a movie and pee/poo during your visit, now's the time, folks!
We toyed with the dill powder, coffee mate...and decided against anything they could end up inhaling, no matter how vinegar-y it was. Then J told us about the time she worked at a restaurant and the same thing happened to them.
"We sprayed Pam on the back of the toilets"
*looks all around*
C suggested, "the popcorn oil!"
I grabbed a small chunk of the coconut oil we use to pop our corn, melted it in my hand and wiped the back of each toilet with a fine coat. It was perfect, you couldn't tell at all.
Then...we waited.
The show let out...I was busy upstairs, but when I returned, J leapt over to me, laughing.
"They went into the bathroom after the show, so I peeked in and sure enough there were 4 feet in one stall. After a bit of a commotion, they came outreally pissed off."
Then she said, "hahahahahahahaha"
Apparently, they stomped out of the bathroom and announced, "FUUUUCK". Walking past J, they both tried to turn her into a block of ice using the power of their snarls. J's reply was a beaming smile and "HA! hahahaha."
So, I ran into the bathroom to see the result.
Oh. My. God. Cocaine mixed with coconut grease smeared across the top of the toilet.
So freaking funny.
We couldn't stop laughing.
However...due to a remarkable (and so very quick) discovery, I am treating myself to a little blogging for being oh, so smart and figuring it out in WAY less time than I thought I would.
So gather, children, and let me tell you tales of great adventure...we (my partners in this adventure and I) call this one You Got Greased (alt title Pwned!).
I worked tonight at the theatre, along side my usual Tuesday night companions...
(yes, I know it's Thursday...I switched days...quit throwing me off)
...a sweet couple I shall call C and J.
First show goes in...
Now, J noticed this way before I did, but these two girls (young girls, may I add) made frequent trips to the bathroom...leaving fairly quickly, like, not really enough time to 'squat and wipe' as J put it.
When one girl brought out her boyfriend to stand in the lobby as she took her turn in the restroom...even I got suspicious. J finally had enough and inspected the bathroom after she left...sure enough...
Cocaine, ladies and gentlemen...the very stuff the residue of which was easily seen atop the back of one of our toilets.
Let me pause for a small aside here: I work in a theatre that's about 80 years old...started off as a garage in the 20s...and it looks that way. The place, as dear as I hold it to my heart, is a freaking mess. Those toilets, sorry to say, need cleaning. Now, to get a little personal here...I'm a squatter. I don't sit on any public toilet unless I have a nest of a thousand tissues. The public restroom in question, well, I don't use it unless I can manage practically standing (besides, I know where the executive bathroom is).
So..imagine my shock, not only that 16'ish year old girls are inhaling the devil's dust, and not only because they were there with an adult (someone's mum? I dunno...), but why on earth would you injest anything that was sitting on the back of any toilet, much less one of ours???
After she went back into the theatre, C, J and I went to work. My first idea was to spread comet on the back of the toilet. After quick discussion, we decided that if a 16 year old is strung out enough, they may be stupid enough to think the coke-fairy has come and dropped off a pile of the stuff on the top of each toilet in the bathroom. We decided that revenge would not be as sweet with a dead teen on our hands, so I used the opportunity to give the toilets a quick wipedown.
If you wanna see a movie and pee/poo during your visit, now's the time, folks!
We toyed with the dill powder, coffee mate...and decided against anything they could end up inhaling, no matter how vinegar-y it was. Then J told us about the time she worked at a restaurant and the same thing happened to them.
"We sprayed Pam on the back of the toilets"
*looks all around*
C suggested, "the popcorn oil!"
I grabbed a small chunk of the coconut oil we use to pop our corn, melted it in my hand and wiped the back of each toilet with a fine coat. It was perfect, you couldn't tell at all.
Then...we waited.
The show let out...I was busy upstairs, but when I returned, J leapt over to me, laughing.
"They went into the bathroom after the show, so I peeked in and sure enough there were 4 feet in one stall. After a bit of a commotion, they came out
Then she said, "hahahahahahahaha"
Apparently, they stomped out of the bathroom and announced, "FUUUUCK". Walking past J, they both tried to turn her into a block of ice using the power of their snarls. J's reply was a beaming smile and "HA! hahahaha."
So, I ran into the bathroom to see the result.
Oh. My. God. Cocaine mixed with coconut grease smeared across the top of the toilet.
So freaking funny.
We couldn't stop laughing.
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
In the interest of fairness
Sunday, February 12, 2006
simple math
What happens when you spend your whole evening studying the anatomy and physiology of the speech system....and you knit a scarf?
let anatomy be (a) and knitting a scarf be (s)
a + s = you dream about getting a knitting needle lodged in your throat
let anatomy be (a) and knitting a scarf be (s)
a + s = you dream about getting a knitting needle lodged in your throat
Saturday, February 11, 2006
time to rethink that pompadour
A conversation the other day -the nature of which would be too long to get into here- lead me to the following statement:
(reworked slightly as I thought it through)
*ahem*
Even goths know that 15 rockabillies anywhere is the international symbol for intense lameness ahead.
I stand by it.
Thank you.
(reworked slightly as I thought it through)
*ahem*
Even goths know that 15 rockabillies anywhere is the international symbol for intense lameness ahead.
I stand by it.
Thank you.
what I do when I'm procrastinating
You fit in with: Spiritualism Your ideals are mostly spiritual, but in an individualistic way. While spirituality is very important in your life, organized religion itself may not be for you. It is best for you to seek these things on your own terms. 40% spiritual. 80% reason-oriented. | ||||
| ||||
Take this quiz at QuizGalaxy.com |
Thursday, February 02, 2006
...as if Black Jacques walked into a bar
Is it me?
Must be.
You know what the fastest way to get me out of a room is these days?
Play Coldplay.
I have come to the point where I cannot stand to be around when Chris Martin starts his own brand of sentimental, overdone, heartfelt, melodic whining.
I mean...that first song was good....but clearly they thought so as well as they haven't deviated from it since.
Maybe if I put on some Coldplay right now, I'd be quicker getting my ass to work.
[later on]: as a matter of fact, I think I'll say that Coldplay is probably the most overrated band out there right now. I could change that when I start thinking of other overrated bands...but for now, I stand by what I just said.
Must be.
You know what the fastest way to get me out of a room is these days?
Play Coldplay.
I have come to the point where I cannot stand to be around when Chris Martin starts his own brand of sentimental, overdone, heartfelt, melodic whining.
I mean...that first song was good....but clearly they thought so as well as they haven't deviated from it since.
Maybe if I put on some Coldplay right now, I'd be quicker getting my ass to work.
[later on]: as a matter of fact, I think I'll say that Coldplay is probably the most overrated band out there right now. I could change that when I start thinking of other overrated bands...but for now, I stand by what I just said.
Saturday, January 21, 2006
My Nanny
Last night, I had a wonderful time with my grandmother. We sat for hours knitting and gossiping. Such fun. Her aphasia was almost unnoticable as we talked about family, friends, neighbours, moving to Canada, knitting, my life, her life...lots. I forgot that when you stick a needle and yarn in that woman's hands, she becomes as creative, clever and present as anyone.
When I came home afterwards, C told me I was glowing.
I joked about her aphasia in my speech pathology class the other day and felt a few people cringe with embarrassment for me. I ought to have tugged at my collar Rodney Dangerfield style and tapped an imaginary microphone..."is this thing on?".
hehe...wish I did.
I've told this story so many times, but you gotta understand that I find it amazing that this lil' lady...the same lil lady that calls my mum up in the evening because she can't turn her VCR on...went through WWII in Poland on her own with a kid.
And...because I'm drinking I'm going to continue...
Granddad left with the Polish army once the war started, leaving Nanny and my uncle (who was 2) on their own. At that time, I guess, his mother was living with them (something he sprung on her after the wedding, she told me), so she took care of her, too.
The city in which they both lived and grew up, Przemysl, was apparently in the middle of Poland at the time. From what she's told me, the Russians and Germans fought there and the occupation would switch sometimes daily. She told me once that you could go across the river to do shopping and by the time you were done, occupation lines had changed and you couldn't get home.
That meant that when the Russians took over her neck of the city, her house would be used as an officer's headquarters. She, my uncle, and her mother-in-law would live in one room, the officers lived in the rest of the house. She hated how they took down her crucifixes and put up pictures of Stalin.
When the Germans took over it meant labour camps. She was a forced labourer for the Germans for much of the war.
Eventually...like, within the last few months of the war, the Germans decided to pack up their 'belongings' (ie. my grandmother and other's with her) and move back to safer ground. Nanny was 27 years old with a 5 year old child and never saw Poland again. To this day. Never saw her mother (her father died a couple of years before the war), her sister or her brother (actually, her brother was shot by Russians). They wrote, but never saw each other. She has only seen her hometown in pictures I brought back to her when I went.
She built coffins, believe it or not, for the remaining four months and after it was done...nothing. She found herself friends and worked as a (coincidentally) nanny for a couple of German families. Okay...really, the details here get fuzzy. But....really...my grandparents didn't have contact with each other for nearly 8 years. If that were me telling my grandchild, my details would be fuzzy, too.
Granddad found her through writing letters with her mother, came to Germany and brought her to Scotland. My mother was born then. Then my aunt Zosia and then my uncle Ludwick. 18 years it took to complete their brood. Jesus.
Nanny still tells me she remembers being in Scotland with 4 kids and getting a letter from the Red Cross telling her they hadn't found her husband yet.
So...that's why I have ties to Scotland and no actual Scotish blood.
If anyone's wondering and has actually made it this far.
So...I look at pictures like that (taken at my mum's on my 32nd b-day) and think, "She did all that? That little lady that taught me how to knit and used to threaten me with a wooden spoon?"
She doesn't talk about those days much anymore. I know all this because I used to question her endlessly about the war and Poland. Her aphasia makes it difficult to communicate on subjects she's emotional about.
She's going to be 90 this year. My grandfather died 25 years ago last September and she's been living in the same house on her own since. And if her borsht is anything to go by, she's doing fine.
I love that battleaxe.
When I came home afterwards, C told me I was glowing.
I joked about her aphasia in my speech pathology class the other day and felt a few people cringe with embarrassment for me. I ought to have tugged at my collar Rodney Dangerfield style and tapped an imaginary microphone..."is this thing on?".
hehe...wish I did.
I've told this story so many times, but you gotta understand that I find it amazing that this lil' lady...the same lil lady that calls my mum up in the evening because she can't turn her VCR on...went through WWII in Poland on her own with a kid.
And...because I'm drinking I'm going to continue...
Granddad left with the Polish army once the war started, leaving Nanny and my uncle (who was 2) on their own. At that time, I guess, his mother was living with them (something he sprung on her after the wedding, she told me), so she took care of her, too.
The city in which they both lived and grew up, Przemysl, was apparently in the middle of Poland at the time. From what she's told me, the Russians and Germans fought there and the occupation would switch sometimes daily. She told me once that you could go across the river to do shopping and by the time you were done, occupation lines had changed and you couldn't get home.
That meant that when the Russians took over her neck of the city, her house would be used as an officer's headquarters. She, my uncle, and her mother-in-law would live in one room, the officers lived in the rest of the house. She hated how they took down her crucifixes and put up pictures of Stalin.
When the Germans took over it meant labour camps. She was a forced labourer for the Germans for much of the war.
Eventually...like, within the last few months of the war, the Germans decided to pack up their 'belongings' (ie. my grandmother and other's with her) and move back to safer ground. Nanny was 27 years old with a 5 year old child and never saw Poland again. To this day. Never saw her mother (her father died a couple of years before the war), her sister or her brother (actually, her brother was shot by Russians). They wrote, but never saw each other. She has only seen her hometown in pictures I brought back to her when I went.
She built coffins, believe it or not, for the remaining four months and after it was done...nothing. She found herself friends and worked as a (coincidentally) nanny for a couple of German families. Okay...really, the details here get fuzzy. But....really...my grandparents didn't have contact with each other for nearly 8 years. If that were me telling my grandchild, my details would be fuzzy, too.
Granddad found her through writing letters with her mother, came to Germany and brought her to Scotland. My mother was born then. Then my aunt Zosia and then my uncle Ludwick. 18 years it took to complete their brood. Jesus.
Nanny still tells me she remembers being in Scotland with 4 kids and getting a letter from the Red Cross telling her they hadn't found her husband yet.
So...that's why I have ties to Scotland and no actual Scotish blood.
If anyone's wondering and has actually made it this far.
So...I look at pictures like that (taken at my mum's on my 32nd b-day) and think, "She did all that? That little lady that taught me how to knit and used to threaten me with a wooden spoon?"
She doesn't talk about those days much anymore. I know all this because I used to question her endlessly about the war and Poland. Her aphasia makes it difficult to communicate on subjects she's emotional about.
She's going to be 90 this year. My grandfather died 25 years ago last September and she's been living in the same house on her own since. And if her borsht is anything to go by, she's doing fine.
I love that battleaxe.
Saturday, January 14, 2006
my not secret not shame
Things I love:
-hearing Led Zeppelin on the radio and knowing that if I just relax and try not to think about it too much, that every word will just come to me so that I can sing them out loud.
Thoughts:
- did John Bonham feel like a wanker after he listened to Moby Dick? 'Cause he sure sounded like one. Which is disappointing because he is one of my 'anchors' in my Led Zeppelin theory of 'anchors' vs 'flakes'
-hearing Led Zeppelin on the radio and knowing that if I just relax and try not to think about it too much, that every word will just come to me so that I can sing them out loud.
Thoughts:
- did John Bonham feel like a wanker after he listened to Moby Dick? 'Cause he sure sounded like one. Which is disappointing because he is one of my 'anchors' in my Led Zeppelin theory of 'anchors' vs 'flakes'
rules
Are there not rules to shared laundryrooms?
I mean, I have what I think are some pretty good guidelines, but I must be crazy because people are animals!
Are you with me on these?
rules (in order of appearance (in my head)):
- when starting a batch of laundry, IF someone else has claimed the machines first, then you must wait a reasonable time for them to finish their run. They have dibs. Unless it's an emergency and you need to get just one load done.
- If there are more than one set of washers/dryers in the laundry space, you are not allowed to take up all of them in order to have all your clothes washed faster. You must stick to one washer/dryer set. Maybe two if you need to get them done fast and there's three sets in the room. Okay, basically, leave a washer and dryer for someone else.
- If someone leaves their clothes in the washing machine or dryer after the cycle has finished, you are NOT to remove those clothes unless a reasonable amount of time has passed. I usually allow two more visits to the laundryroom spaced about 15 minutes apart. 30 min is reasonable time to take laundry out, but 5 is not. I hate when people do that to me.
Okay..I think that's the basics. Am I out of my mind? I think all of these sound reasonable, but there's always some pushy laundry a-hole in every building, I guess.
I mean, I have what I think are some pretty good guidelines, but I must be crazy because people are animals!
Are you with me on these?
rules (in order of appearance (in my head)):
- when starting a batch of laundry, IF someone else has claimed the machines first, then you must wait a reasonable time for them to finish their run. They have dibs. Unless it's an emergency and you need to get just one load done.
- If there are more than one set of washers/dryers in the laundry space, you are not allowed to take up all of them in order to have all your clothes washed faster. You must stick to one washer/dryer set. Maybe two if you need to get them done fast and there's three sets in the room. Okay, basically, leave a washer and dryer for someone else.
- If someone leaves their clothes in the washing machine or dryer after the cycle has finished, you are NOT to remove those clothes unless a reasonable amount of time has passed. I usually allow two more visits to the laundryroom spaced about 15 minutes apart. 30 min is reasonable time to take laundry out, but 5 is not. I hate when people do that to me.
Okay..I think that's the basics. Am I out of my mind? I think all of these sound reasonable, but there's always some pushy laundry a-hole in every building, I guess.
decisions, decisions...
So...
It's been bugging me since September (and before, actually).
What the hell am I going to do after this year? Like, what grad program should I choose?
Yesterday, with only 2'ish weeks before the deadline, I made up my mind. And I felt confident.
However, when bf came home last night and I announced my new plan, this is what happened:
"Okay..I've decided what I'm going to apply for at school...I'm gonna ***OUCH***...holy crap! My neck just seized up!......"
...and it still hurts.
Is that a bad sign?
It's been bugging me since September (and before, actually).
What the hell am I going to do after this year? Like, what grad program should I choose?
Yesterday, with only 2'ish weeks before the deadline, I made up my mind. And I felt confident.
However, when bf came home last night and I announced my new plan, this is what happened:
"Okay..I've decided what I'm going to apply for at school...I'm gonna ***OUCH***...holy crap! My neck just seized up!......"
...and it still hurts.
Is that a bad sign?
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
hey! I know you!
I walked past Preston Manning today on the way to the C-train.
I've got nothing against the guy personally, just the frothing-at-the-mouth-goddamn-it-everything-would-be-fine-if-we-just-went-back-to-the-way-things-used-to-be-praise-Jesus ones that joined his club.
Anyway...so I wanted to shout, "hey, everybody! It's Preston Manning!" but, ya know, it's election time and I didn't want to be, ya know...viewed as having those...ummm...leanings.
I've got nothing against the guy personally, just the frothing-at-the-mouth-goddamn-it-everything-would-be-fine-if-we-just-went-back-to-the-way-things-used-to-be-praise-Jesus ones that joined his club.
Anyway...so I wanted to shout, "hey, everybody! It's Preston Manning!" but, ya know, it's election time and I didn't want to be, ya know...viewed as having those...ummm...leanings.
Saturday, January 07, 2006
oh, happy day
I've done some things and been in some situations I'm not proud of.
A few years ago I was weak. Like, weaker than I've ever been. Some people I knew at the time took huge advantage of this and it took me awhile to sorta recognize them for the crappy human beings they were.
I credit my friends after this danky period and especially C for teaching me that it's okay to have my own idea of right vs wrong and that I can believe my gut when I think people are creeps. And I don't need creeps around me.
I slowly developed a 'shit list' of these remorseless pricks/prickettes and started to really hate them. I mean, really, they're symbols of things I have to forgive myself for, obviously (says my inner Freud), but what's wrong with a little hatred when people deserve it, anyway?
Today, about an hour ago actually, I was in Safeway picking up some stuff for dinner when I ran into one of these drains on human existance that I hadn't seen in years.
I always wondered what I would do/think/feel in these situations...
He recognized me and when I passed him I stopped and turned around to see his smiling, 'hey! I know you!' face. Without thinking about it, I slowly smirked and lifted my hand which had already been formed in 'bird-flipping' pose. Then I walked away.
Okay..okay..not much...but it was enough to make me smile the rest of my shopping trip and when I walked past him again on my way out, I saw his face was red and he was flustered as I giggled and said, 'dork' and marched out of the door.
And the door did open for me, 'cause after that I worried that I'd walk into something...apparently whatever force is out there granted me this opportunity to belittle someone quietly and float away without tripping, stuttering, or falling. And for that, I might even pray tonight.
hahahaha...nah..I won't. But still.
A few years ago I was weak. Like, weaker than I've ever been. Some people I knew at the time took huge advantage of this and it took me awhile to sorta recognize them for the crappy human beings they were.
I credit my friends after this danky period and especially C for teaching me that it's okay to have my own idea of right vs wrong and that I can believe my gut when I think people are creeps. And I don't need creeps around me.
I slowly developed a 'shit list' of these remorseless pricks/prickettes and started to really hate them. I mean, really, they're symbols of things I have to forgive myself for, obviously (says my inner Freud), but what's wrong with a little hatred when people deserve it, anyway?
Today, about an hour ago actually, I was in Safeway picking up some stuff for dinner when I ran into one of these drains on human existance that I hadn't seen in years.
I always wondered what I would do/think/feel in these situations...
He recognized me and when I passed him I stopped and turned around to see his smiling, 'hey! I know you!' face. Without thinking about it, I slowly smirked and lifted my hand which had already been formed in 'bird-flipping' pose. Then I walked away.
Okay..okay..not much...but it was enough to make me smile the rest of my shopping trip and when I walked past him again on my way out, I saw his face was red and he was flustered as I giggled and said, 'dork' and marched out of the door.
And the door did open for me, 'cause after that I worried that I'd walk into something...apparently whatever force is out there granted me this opportunity to belittle someone quietly and float away without tripping, stuttering, or falling. And for that, I might even pray tonight.
hahahaha...nah..I won't. But still.
Friday, January 06, 2006
The penguins go marching up my bum...
Hurrah
Hurrah
shut up.
March of the Penguins was not good and I'll tell you why.
I am one of the first in any room or to be amazed by the wonder of nature. Animals are fascinating. Creatures all over this big green and blue earth are just chock full of crazy, interesting, wonderful, shocking, etc...things. Biology and evolution have provided each species with unique tools in which to perform certain tasks in order to maintain the ability to create more of the little effers. Totally.
So, why do we always have to anthropomorphize them every. damn. time.?
I just don't believe that these birds are capable of complex emotions or thoughts. If they march over miles of ice to get this birth thing done, then that's astonishing enough...you don't have to pretend that a mama bird is crying over it's dead young. 'Cause it's not.
Case in point? If those mama-penguins loved their children soooo durn much, why was there almost no action when a...
oh dear...here we go with the collective nouns: my sources say that penguins can be a: colony, crèche, huddle, parcel, etc. I'll use huddle in this case
...huddle of their chicks was getting attacked by that Jimmy Durante looking bird?
Anyway...
I guess I like my animal documentaries about facts, not sentimental, heart-tugging speculation. We have no way of knowing how a penguin feels about a situation because we're not penguins. Chances are, however, they don't feel the same way we do in similar situations...why? 'cause our lives are completely different. They're penguins. We're humans. And if you haven't noticed, our responses to survival are pret-ty different.
Hurrah
shut up.
March of the Penguins was not good and I'll tell you why.
I am one of the first in any room or to be amazed by the wonder of nature. Animals are fascinating. Creatures all over this big green and blue earth are just chock full of crazy, interesting, wonderful, shocking, etc...things. Biology and evolution have provided each species with unique tools in which to perform certain tasks in order to maintain the ability to create more of the little effers. Totally.
So, why do we always have to anthropomorphize them every. damn. time.?
I just don't believe that these birds are capable of complex emotions or thoughts. If they march over miles of ice to get this birth thing done, then that's astonishing enough...you don't have to pretend that a mama bird is crying over it's dead young. 'Cause it's not.
Case in point? If those mama-penguins loved their children soooo durn much, why was there almost no action when a...
oh dear...here we go with the collective nouns: my sources say that penguins can be a: colony, crèche, huddle, parcel, etc. I'll use huddle in this case
...huddle of their chicks was getting attacked by that Jimmy Durante looking bird?
Anyway...
I guess I like my animal documentaries about facts, not sentimental, heart-tugging speculation. We have no way of knowing how a penguin feels about a situation because we're not penguins. Chances are, however, they don't feel the same way we do in similar situations...why? 'cause our lives are completely different. They're penguins. We're humans. And if you haven't noticed, our responses to survival are pret-ty different.
Thursday, January 05, 2006
Tagged, hey?
oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god...
I've been tagged by this guy and I've never done this before...
*fret*
Okay...so...I write 5 things that are weird about me?
Is that what it's about?
'kay...after thinking about it, I decided it's best not to think about it and let the 5 things flow through:
*deep breath*
here we go:
1- There are two types of salads I make as comfort food. Both were invented by me at the age of 16 in response to 'fending for myself' while my father worked out of town, and neither have changed much since that time. It is usually important to me that the ingredients to at least one of these salads is in my fridge at given time.
2- I handraised a ton of baby birds when I was a kid, mainly pigeons or robins.
I probably know more about pigeons than you do.
3- I cannot STAND when people leave the top off of good pens. Cheap ballpoints, I don't care about but good pens...drives me batty. In fact, I have an affinity for all good stationary...I am the stationary whisperer.
4- I get terribly paranoid about people overhearing my conversations, even when they're not about someone (good or bad). I used to have a habit of constantly checking to see if my cell was on, until I got my sweet sweet flip-phone.
5- I have sort of half-assed followed Danny Elfman's career since I was a kid and Oingo Boingo was "big". I liked his name when I first heard it and I remember him looking kinda nice crazy and red-headed. Then I started seeing his name on films. When I bought PeeWee's Big Adventure on DVD and heard his commentary, a lot of things fell into place.
Other careers I've followed/cheered on: Stephen Fry, Hugh Laurie, and Mark Mothersbaugh.
Okay..so now I pick people to tag?
black mana if he ever blogs again.
eeners who is the only person with a blog who's likely to even see this post.
You're it!
I've been tagged by this guy and I've never done this before...
*fret*
Okay...so...I write 5 things that are weird about me?
Is that what it's about?
'kay...after thinking about it, I decided it's best not to think about it and let the 5 things flow through:
*deep breath*
here we go:
1- There are two types of salads I make as comfort food. Both were invented by me at the age of 16 in response to 'fending for myself' while my father worked out of town, and neither have changed much since that time. It is usually important to me that the ingredients to at least one of these salads is in my fridge at given time.
2- I handraised a ton of baby birds when I was a kid, mainly pigeons or robins.
I probably know more about pigeons than you do.
3- I cannot STAND when people leave the top off of good pens. Cheap ballpoints, I don't care about but good pens...drives me batty. In fact, I have an affinity for all good stationary...I am the stationary whisperer.
4- I get terribly paranoid about people overhearing my conversations, even when they're not about someone (good or bad). I used to have a habit of constantly checking to see if my cell was on, until I got my sweet sweet flip-phone.
5- I have sort of half-assed followed Danny Elfman's career since I was a kid and Oingo Boingo was "big". I liked his name when I first heard it and I remember him looking kinda nice crazy and red-headed. Then I started seeing his name on films. When I bought PeeWee's Big Adventure on DVD and heard his commentary, a lot of things fell into place.
Other careers I've followed/cheered on: Stephen Fry, Hugh Laurie, and Mark Mothersbaugh.
Okay..so now I pick people to tag?
black mana if he ever blogs again.
eeners who is the only person with a blog who's likely to even see this post.
You're it!
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
Water in the booth
Okay...two thoughts on this film:
a- go. It's an important movie that I think everyone should see.
b- I will do a jig the day it leaves our theater.
Water is one of the most beautiful and thought provoking movies that I've seen come through the theater in a long time. It is also absolutely gut-wrenching in parts and I can't take it now that I've played it 5 times.
Set in the late 30s, it's a story of Hindu widows and the treatment they receive in a society that regards them as unlucky and unwanted due to ancient texts outlining how a widow should be treated and how she should live her life from the point of her husband's death on. It may have been set in 1938, but it alludes to the problem still facing some women in India today.
These women, no longer welcome by their own or their husbands' families, are sent to live together in an ashram and essentially fend for themselves, sometimes through degrading means....if ya get what I'm saying.
Also, some of these widows are still little girls because of marriages arranged early on and whichever other traditions get a 7 year-old married without even meeting her husband.
So..that's basically the background.
Seriously, great movie.
However, everyone is an absolute wreck afterwards. I've seen five sets of audiences come out of that theatre like they've just gone through a tragic experience. And I've come down from the booth feeling the same way. And you should feel that way...it is a tragic story.
But one of my favourite things about this film is its (what I think was) deliberate setting in a time in which India was facing many changes. Truthfully, I don't know much about Gandhi other than the very basics, so it never occured to me how conflicted the people must have been when he was doing so much good and making so much sense, while at the same time challenging the practices and customs that were so deeply part of Indian society.
The response of some characters to that conflict made the film richer for me.
At times, it can get a little sentimental. I didn't really notice it until about the 3rd time I played it, though...and, I think because it's a foreign film about things foreign to me I found it easier to forgive. Besides, really, with the subject matter, how do you not cross the line into sentimentality at times? The love interest storyline is what I'm talking about here. The guy, from the parts I saw, is so impossibly sweet and gentle and you knew what he wanted would be doomed that, if I were watching any other movie I would have been turned off. Somehow, though, he just made me teary everytime I saw him.
The ending, though, is where all the character-makes-an-inner-discovery-and-does-what-she-can-to-save-what's-left action is and that's when I have to rub those sandpaper-like brown paper towels (that's all we've got in the booth) together so that they'd be soft enough to suck up the tears. Like, not little well up in the eyes tears but full flowing streams down cheeks tears.
So, if you see it...bring kleenex. With aloe, if you can.
I rate how much I like movies by how much I watch of them. I saw about 90% of this one...so, i think it's pretty good. Content makes it a must see.
a- go. It's an important movie that I think everyone should see.
b- I will do a jig the day it leaves our theater.
Water is one of the most beautiful and thought provoking movies that I've seen come through the theater in a long time. It is also absolutely gut-wrenching in parts and I can't take it now that I've played it 5 times.
Set in the late 30s, it's a story of Hindu widows and the treatment they receive in a society that regards them as unlucky and unwanted due to ancient texts outlining how a widow should be treated and how she should live her life from the point of her husband's death on. It may have been set in 1938, but it alludes to the problem still facing some women in India today.
These women, no longer welcome by their own or their husbands' families, are sent to live together in an ashram and essentially fend for themselves, sometimes through degrading means....if ya get what I'm saying.
Also, some of these widows are still little girls because of marriages arranged early on and whichever other traditions get a 7 year-old married without even meeting her husband.
So..that's basically the background.
Seriously, great movie.
However, everyone is an absolute wreck afterwards. I've seen five sets of audiences come out of that theatre like they've just gone through a tragic experience. And I've come down from the booth feeling the same way. And you should feel that way...it is a tragic story.
But one of my favourite things about this film is its (what I think was) deliberate setting in a time in which India was facing many changes. Truthfully, I don't know much about Gandhi other than the very basics, so it never occured to me how conflicted the people must have been when he was doing so much good and making so much sense, while at the same time challenging the practices and customs that were so deeply part of Indian society.
The response of some characters to that conflict made the film richer for me.
At times, it can get a little sentimental. I didn't really notice it until about the 3rd time I played it, though...and, I think because it's a foreign film about things foreign to me I found it easier to forgive. Besides, really, with the subject matter, how do you not cross the line into sentimentality at times? The love interest storyline is what I'm talking about here. The guy, from the parts I saw, is so impossibly sweet and gentle and you knew what he wanted would be doomed that, if I were watching any other movie I would have been turned off. Somehow, though, he just made me teary everytime I saw him.
The ending, though, is where all the character-makes-an-inner-discovery-and-does-what-she-can-to-save-what's-left action is and that's when I have to rub those sandpaper-like brown paper towels (that's all we've got in the booth) together so that they'd be soft enough to suck up the tears. Like, not little well up in the eyes tears but full flowing streams down cheeks tears.
So, if you see it...bring kleenex. With aloe, if you can.
I rate how much I like movies by how much I watch of them. I saw about 90% of this one...so, i think it's pretty good. Content makes it a must see.
from the booth...
I'm posting this mainly just to remind myself and yes, I am too lazy to get a pen.
When I got back from the theatre tonight, BF made a joke about me doing 'partial' movie reviews on my blog
like, partial because I never really manage to sit through an entire film when I'm working. I usually catch as many bits and pieces as I can until I've seen the whole thing...and that's if it's good.
So...joke's on him because I think that's a good idea and i'm a-gunna do it.
ha!
freak bitch
When I got back from the theatre tonight, BF made a joke about me doing 'partial' movie reviews on my blog
like, partial because I never really manage to sit through an entire film when I'm working. I usually catch as many bits and pieces as I can until I've seen the whole thing...and that's if it's good.
So...joke's on him because I think that's a good idea and i'm a-gunna do it.
ha!
freak bitch
Monday, January 02, 2006
well, lemme tell ya
I'm drinking red wine (for 'red wine' read 'truth serum')...so, what to do next but blog?
though...all the beautifully put phrases that have been floating through my head all day have disappeared....
eff.
Xmas came and went.
New Year's eve and day came and went.
*shrug*
I'm hesitant to 'recap' or anything...2005 was a twisty-turny year for me
I did a 'friend overhaul'
I felt betrayed...alot
but I also found out that nothing's perfect...bittersweet, lamegood, fucktard...
I moved into an apartment I hate with a man I love
I started working part time and going to school full time
I had a pretty frantic and pretty rewarding semester
I, for the first time in years, saw a project from beginning to completion with a real sense of accomplishment
I was gonna start knitting again, but I can't find my durn needles
I learned that even if you spend a semester doing stuff you did while you were doing your degree...you still don't know what you want to be when you grow up
I suffered, and still currently suffer, from one of the biggest bouts of self doubt I've ever had
and if I get drunker, I may whine about that, too.
so..when 2005 rolled away last night and 2006 crawled in...it met me with a nod and I showed it where it sits
I plied it with liquor so that it might be nice...but then I think I just got drunk and started bitching about it's younger brother
I got more gift certificates than I can possibly use...that's a lie. I'll use them. So back off.
Xmas was kinda weird. Xmas eve is a P-tradition in which the family gets together and shows each other how weird they've gotten over the past year. Award this year goes to cousin S because she's obviously worked very hard on her pathological lying. I sat wide eyed as she spun tales of complete and utter horseshit whilst trying to give my bf the best view of her cleavage as she possibly could. Atta girl. And she's only 24.
I get a smaller prize for not laughing while my mother punctuated each fantastic fabrication with a kick under the table.
Boxing day was at the farm with my dad and his gf. Lots of tea (damn, LOTS of tea), lots of laughing, lots of pigeons, lots of dogs.
My dad has peacocks.
And his toilet works, so I didn't have to pee behind the chicken coop.
Awesome.
Happy frickin' New Year
though...all the beautifully put phrases that have been floating through my head all day have disappeared....
eff.
Xmas came and went.
New Year's eve and day came and went.
*shrug*
I'm hesitant to 'recap' or anything...2005 was a twisty-turny year for me
I did a 'friend overhaul'
I felt betrayed...alot
but I also found out that nothing's perfect...bittersweet, lamegood, fucktard...
I moved into an apartment I hate with a man I love
I started working part time and going to school full time
I had a pretty frantic and pretty rewarding semester
I, for the first time in years, saw a project from beginning to completion with a real sense of accomplishment
I was gonna start knitting again, but I can't find my durn needles
I learned that even if you spend a semester doing stuff you did while you were doing your degree...you still don't know what you want to be when you grow up
I suffered, and still currently suffer, from one of the biggest bouts of self doubt I've ever had
and if I get drunker, I may whine about that, too.
so..when 2005 rolled away last night and 2006 crawled in...it met me with a nod and I showed it where it sits
I plied it with liquor so that it might be nice...but then I think I just got drunk and started bitching about it's younger brother
I got more gift certificates than I can possibly use...that's a lie. I'll use them. So back off.
Xmas was kinda weird. Xmas eve is a P-tradition in which the family gets together and shows each other how weird they've gotten over the past year. Award this year goes to cousin S because she's obviously worked very hard on her pathological lying. I sat wide eyed as she spun tales of complete and utter horseshit whilst trying to give my bf the best view of her cleavage as she possibly could. Atta girl. And she's only 24.
I get a smaller prize for not laughing while my mother punctuated each fantastic fabrication with a kick under the table.
Boxing day was at the farm with my dad and his gf. Lots of tea (damn, LOTS of tea), lots of laughing, lots of pigeons, lots of dogs.
My dad has peacocks.
And his toilet works, so I didn't have to pee behind the chicken coop.
Awesome.
Happy frickin' New Year
Tuesday, December 20, 2005
finished (as in a- my semester and b- the state of my being)
It is freaking cold in our apartment....for various reasons...some acceptable, some I bitch about...whatever...
anyway, so, any given evening, you can catch me in full body longjohns....and that's what I usually sleep in...
the type with the trap door
Last night I finished my paper, which means I finished everything I needed in order to end this semester...
w00t
...heheheh...anyway...
so, I ran up to the university last night to hand in my paper way before the 9 AM deadline today. 'Cept everything was closed.
On the way home, paper still in my hand, I stopped by the liquorstore and bought a bottle of wine.
BF wasn't feeling well, so he was taking a nap when I got back, so I settled in by pouring a glass and playing WoW.
I got drunk and sobered up by the time he awoke. We played for a little while together then I went to bed to get an early start so I could run up to the uni before work.
couldn't sleep...couldn't sleep...couldn't sleep...woke up early...
so, I'm tired, right? But I was too elated to feel it.
trained it to the uni and when I got there it was quiet...no one about. Not a peep.
so...I debated over: a- shoving my assignment in the slot in the main office door...which would entail a plastic envelope full of stuff and three books I used as references...then imagined someone tripping over the old worn out grammars I used...
or b- hanging my assignment (with all accessories) on the doorknob of her office because I already had it in a plastic bag in case that was my best option...
forward thinking
I picked b...and got back on the train towards downtown so I could go to work. Along the way I imagined every scenario that could possibly prevent the connection between my prof and the assignment hanging on her door....up to and including the thought that since 9/11, maybe strange packages hanging on doors are disposed of by a bomb squad in a foamy mess.
I was tired.
But...I emailed her and she emailed me back saying she got it and to have a good holiday. Thank god. Crisis averted. And now I'm free...and I feel grrreat!
oh...yeah...but I forgot to mention that last night I had a dream that I was sitting in class and for some reason said prof asked me to write something on the board but I refused because I looked down and realized I was wearing my longjohns with the trap door...
hahaha...what a typical 'school dream'...
anyway, so, any given evening, you can catch me in full body longjohns....and that's what I usually sleep in...
the type with the trap door
Last night I finished my paper, which means I finished everything I needed in order to end this semester...
w00t
...heheheh...anyway...
so, I ran up to the university last night to hand in my paper way before the 9 AM deadline today. 'Cept everything was closed.
On the way home, paper still in my hand, I stopped by the liquorstore and bought a bottle of wine.
BF wasn't feeling well, so he was taking a nap when I got back, so I settled in by pouring a glass and playing WoW.
I got drunk and sobered up by the time he awoke. We played for a little while together then I went to bed to get an early start so I could run up to the uni before work.
couldn't sleep...couldn't sleep...couldn't sleep...woke up early...
so, I'm tired, right? But I was too elated to feel it.
trained it to the uni and when I got there it was quiet...no one about. Not a peep.
so...I debated over: a- shoving my assignment in the slot in the main office door...which would entail a plastic envelope full of stuff and three books I used as references...then imagined someone tripping over the old worn out grammars I used...
or b- hanging my assignment (with all accessories) on the doorknob of her office because I already had it in a plastic bag in case that was my best option...
forward thinking
I picked b...and got back on the train towards downtown so I could go to work. Along the way I imagined every scenario that could possibly prevent the connection between my prof and the assignment hanging on her door....up to and including the thought that since 9/11, maybe strange packages hanging on doors are disposed of by a bomb squad in a foamy mess.
I was tired.
But...I emailed her and she emailed me back saying she got it and to have a good holiday. Thank god. Crisis averted. And now I'm free...and I feel grrreat!
oh...yeah...but I forgot to mention that last night I had a dream that I was sitting in class and for some reason said prof asked me to write something on the board but I refused because I looked down and realized I was wearing my longjohns with the trap door...
hahaha...what a typical 'school dream'...
Friday, December 16, 2005
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
these days
I found this guy's blog and started clicking on links. It's like a goldmine of animators and illustrators and they are all incredible.
How I wish I could draw.
Anyway...since all I can think about right now is myself, this'll be another post about me.
I wrote an exam this morning and was kinda confident about most of it, though it was hard but when I came out and started talking to some people from my class...well...I think I got one wrong.
Damn.
Because if you know you got one wrong...how many don't you know you got wrong?
But...anyway...I went for lunch with bf and then came home and slept for 2 hours because I'm exhausted and my prof also said that we could have until the 19th to hand in our 15 pg paper.
I almost leapt up and kissed her right on the lips.
Then I thought I dreamt it, so I had to ask around after the exam. Then I had no pants on. And, like, I was in the social science building but it looked like my elementary school.
So...in just a few more days I can stop waking up with fear gripping my belly over what I have to accomplish that day for my life not to suck.
That's gonna be sweet.
How I wish I could draw.
Anyway...since all I can think about right now is myself, this'll be another post about me.
I wrote an exam this morning and was kinda confident about most of it, though it was hard but when I came out and started talking to some people from my class...well...I think I got one wrong.
Damn.
Because if you know you got one wrong...how many don't you know you got wrong?
But...anyway...I went for lunch with bf and then came home and slept for 2 hours because I'm exhausted and my prof also said that we could have until the 19th to hand in our 15 pg paper.
I almost leapt up and kissed her right on the lips.
Then I thought I dreamt it, so I had to ask around after the exam. Then I had no pants on. And, like, I was in the social science building but it looked like my elementary school.
So...in just a few more days I can stop waking up with fear gripping my belly over what I have to accomplish that day for my life not to suck.
That's gonna be sweet.
Sunday, December 11, 2005
me?
I just think that butterfly nets are the funniest accessory out there...
that doesn't really look like Chris at all.
but this is SO TOTALLY what I'm wearing right now.
Saturday, December 10, 2005
going mental
7 days left
1 - final exam
1 - take home final
1 - 15pg paper
...to go...
yeah...heh...heh
eff
anyway...I live above a restaurant, right? So, they've taken to playing Xmas music.
I hate Xmas music.
I'm not a Scrooge...I don't hate Xmas or anything...it's okay.
But I can't STAND Xmas music and I especially can't stand those little toys that you press an effing button and then it plays a cute little christmas carrol as if the dog, snowman, santa, elf, construction worker, police man, leather guy, native indian, or sailor is singing it themselves and they've got one of those in the mailroom at work and me and one of the women who work there are going to sneak in there and bash it into smithereens with a 3-hole punch if they continue to play it and laugh as though it was the fucking cutest thing they've ever seen since the birth of their hare-lipped, club footed, bow legged, bowl hair cutted grandchildren.
anyway...
1 - final exam
1 - take home final
1 - 15pg paper
...to go...
yeah...heh...heh
eff
anyway...I live above a restaurant, right? So, they've taken to playing Xmas music.
I hate Xmas music.
I'm not a Scrooge...I don't hate Xmas or anything...it's okay.
But I can't STAND Xmas music and I especially can't stand those little toys that you press an effing button and then it plays a cute little christmas carrol as if the dog, snowman, santa, elf, construction worker, police man, leather guy, native indian, or sailor is singing it themselves and they've got one of those in the mailroom at work and me and one of the women who work there are going to sneak in there and bash it into smithereens with a 3-hole punch if they continue to play it and laugh as though it was the fucking cutest thing they've ever seen since the birth of their hare-lipped, club footed, bow legged, bowl hair cutted grandchildren.
anyway...
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
Sunday, December 04, 2005
blog stats
someone got to my blog by googling the words:
hate "stuart mclean" voice
hahahahahaha
well, i certainly don't hate stuart mclean's voice, and if you're familiar with stuart mclean and the vinyl cafe then check out his blog. Bet you can't read it without hearing his voice.
it's better that way.
i'm gonna try that technique on my text books.
hate "stuart mclean" voice
hahahahahaha
well, i certainly don't hate stuart mclean's voice, and if you're familiar with stuart mclean and the vinyl cafe then check out his blog. Bet you can't read it without hearing his voice.
it's better that way.
i'm gonna try that technique on my text books.
an ode to tea
you google peppermint tea, and you get that picture. I probably shoulda used one without the 'for promotional use only' tag...but I think I like it more that way
it's a no caps kinda day
i've got two papers, a take home exam and a regular ol' final exam within the next two weeks.
yesterday was a very demanding day and i think i stressed so terribly that i've probably slept about a whole half day since...not to mention eat 2/3rds of the house.
and now i've got a headache and i feel nauseous.
this peppermint tea in front of me is saving my life.
i'm trying so hard to work but i keep flitting from one assingment to another so that the total work i've managed to get done equals bupkis.
i just watched arrested development for the first time and a/ it's totally funny and b/ the david cross character (who is hillarious, btw) is an ex-psycholinguist from MIT that is super weird and flakey and I thought, 'jesus...when it comes to making fun of people, are linguists up for grabs, too?'
two of my fave profs: one's a psycholinguist and the other is straight outta MIT, yo.
i went to go see the grad advisor for our department the other day. i can't stop going over the potential stupid things i said during our meeting. i fixate on my stupidity and akwardness, like, lots...i'm gonna make someone a great grad student one day. when i went to visit him, i guess i expected (don't know why) him to give me a run down of all the programs i could get into with a BA in linguistics, but all we talked about were MAs in linguistics. easy now. i gots to do more research but i know i would love to do a masters in linguistics.
eff
that's gonna get me nowhere
besides, it's been so long. he asked what discipline i'd like to get involved in...uh. dunno. syntax is nice. i like phonetics.
dork <---- me
it's a no caps kinda day
i've got two papers, a take home exam and a regular ol' final exam within the next two weeks.
yesterday was a very demanding day and i think i stressed so terribly that i've probably slept about a whole half day since...not to mention eat 2/3rds of the house.
and now i've got a headache and i feel nauseous.
this peppermint tea in front of me is saving my life.
i'm trying so hard to work but i keep flitting from one assingment to another so that the total work i've managed to get done equals bupkis.
i just watched arrested development for the first time and a/ it's totally funny and b/ the david cross character (who is hillarious, btw) is an ex-psycholinguist from MIT that is super weird and flakey and I thought, 'jesus...when it comes to making fun of people, are linguists up for grabs, too?'
two of my fave profs: one's a psycholinguist and the other is straight outta MIT, yo.
i went to go see the grad advisor for our department the other day. i can't stop going over the potential stupid things i said during our meeting. i fixate on my stupidity and akwardness, like, lots...i'm gonna make someone a great grad student one day. when i went to visit him, i guess i expected (don't know why) him to give me a run down of all the programs i could get into with a BA in linguistics, but all we talked about were MAs in linguistics. easy now. i gots to do more research but i know i would love to do a masters in linguistics.
eff
that's gonna get me nowhere
besides, it's been so long. he asked what discipline i'd like to get involved in...uh. dunno. syntax is nice. i like phonetics.
dork <---- me
Thursday, December 01, 2005
GQ Man of the Year
Now, really...I don't give a rat's ass about GQ or its Man of the Year.
But I'm so sick of Jennifer Aniston and everyone's bullshit pity and happiness over watching her 'get back on her feet'.
I'm not going to go into the Brad, Angelina and Jennifer thing here. Gawd. Go to any supermarket and all the research is right in front of you.
And after you read all that...we still have no idea what really happened. Who cares? Its between them.
But what exactly is important if you're to be a GQ Man of the Year? When your partners in that prize are Vince Vaughn and 50 cent, probably not much...but what I would like to bring up is that JA is the first female 'Man' of the Year because she "exhibited a lot of poise, unbelievable amount of grace and good humor this year."
So...because she didn't pull a Medea on us that she's deserving of the 'Man' of the Year award?
"Heck, Jenny-poo...the way you handled that whole marriage thing...that was mighty manly of ya..."
and a hearty slap on the back
I understand that the media must be a total bitch to deal with...really, I do. But, after the wound healed a bit (and after public interest into how she was doing grew), who released her story in an exclusive to Vanity Fair that flew off the shelves?
They had a harder time keeping the contents of that interview secret than they did a couple of months previous revealing who Deep Throat was.
Now...another point. What the eff is she doing on the cover accepting the honour of "Man of the Year" with her shirt off like she's in a Maxim spread? Take your shirt of for photoshoots, by all means...but don't you think it's a little tacky when the other Men of the Year get to keep their shirts on?
pfft...Man of the Year. She gets it by keeping her cool when her husband leaves her. Irony is that Angelina Jolie was only recognized by the effing UN for all the goodwill work she's done.
She gets called a 'homewrecker'.
But I'm so sick of Jennifer Aniston and everyone's bullshit pity and happiness over watching her 'get back on her feet'.
I'm not going to go into the Brad, Angelina and Jennifer thing here. Gawd. Go to any supermarket and all the research is right in front of you.
And after you read all that...we still have no idea what really happened. Who cares? Its between them.
But what exactly is important if you're to be a GQ Man of the Year? When your partners in that prize are Vince Vaughn and 50 cent, probably not much...but what I would like to bring up is that JA is the first female 'Man' of the Year because she "exhibited a lot of poise, unbelievable amount of grace and good humor this year."
So...because she didn't pull a Medea on us that she's deserving of the 'Man' of the Year award?
"Heck, Jenny-poo...the way you handled that whole marriage thing...that was mighty manly of ya..."
and a hearty slap on the back
I understand that the media must be a total bitch to deal with...really, I do. But, after the wound healed a bit (and after public interest into how she was doing grew), who released her story in an exclusive to Vanity Fair that flew off the shelves?
They had a harder time keeping the contents of that interview secret than they did a couple of months previous revealing who Deep Throat was.
Now...another point. What the eff is she doing on the cover accepting the honour of "Man of the Year" with her shirt off like she's in a Maxim spread? Take your shirt of for photoshoots, by all means...but don't you think it's a little tacky when the other Men of the Year get to keep their shirts on?
pfft...Man of the Year. She gets it by keeping her cool when her husband leaves her. Irony is that Angelina Jolie was only recognized by the effing UN for all the goodwill work she's done.
She gets called a 'homewrecker'.
nice
hollabacknyc
With the advent of cell phones that can take pics (of which I still am stubbornly refusing to buy) come great ideas for websites...like this.
I think they'll allow non-nyc content.
Anyway, next time you get harrassed by someone on the street, quietly snap a photo of the creep and post it. They deserve to at least have some small part of fame for it.
But be careful...remember, you can't really predict what a complete asshole will do.
With the advent of cell phones that can take pics (of which I still am stubbornly refusing to buy) come great ideas for websites...like this.
I think they'll allow non-nyc content.
Anyway, next time you get harrassed by someone on the street, quietly snap a photo of the creep and post it. They deserve to at least have some small part of fame for it.
But be careful...remember, you can't really predict what a complete asshole will do.
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Finally
pandora.com
...a way to find new artists I might like without having to actually tell someone I don't trust their abilities to guide me...
no offense
I just don't trust you and don't want to put in the effort to prove you wrong
...a way to find new artists I might like without having to actually tell someone I don't trust their abilities to guide me...
no offense
I just don't trust you and don't want to put in the effort to prove you wrong
Saturday, November 26, 2005
Extra! Extra! Zombies own LARPers!
Doin' homework, I accidentally came across these.
From what I can understand these people (call them Team Dork) would LARP in this park every Sunday (I don't even know where) and these other people (call them Team Bubble-burster) decided it would be great fun to dress up as zombies and break up their LARPing nerdness.
Pretty funny.
Team Dork were apparently hangin' out doing their LARPy thing when Team Bubble-burster...well...burst on the scene and gave them a jawful of zombie revenge.
Then, if I'm reading it right, they took out a drum circle.
I love anyone who takes out a drum circle.
Dirty hippies with their stupid lack of rhythm.
Check out the pictures.
From what I can understand these people (call them Team Dork) would LARP in this park every Sunday (I don't even know where) and these other people (call them Team Bubble-burster) decided it would be great fun to dress up as zombies and break up their LARPing nerdness.
Pretty funny.
Team Dork were apparently hangin' out doing their LARPy thing when Team Bubble-burster...well...burst on the scene and gave them a jawful of zombie revenge.
Then, if I'm reading it right, they took out a drum circle.
I love anyone who takes out a drum circle.
Dirty hippies with their stupid lack of rhythm.
Check out the pictures.
an insight into Himbly's current state
Remember that guy?
If you don't, this will serve the purpose of a/ reminding you, and b/ describing my thoughts and feelings at this moment.
If you don't, this will serve the purpose of a/ reminding you, and b/ describing my thoughts and feelings at this moment.
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
more better
I was telling eeners this today:
The other day in class, I used the word "polite-er".
I was all like (to myself), "Hey, good answer. Wait. Did I just say 'polite-er'? Damn."
Actually, it wasn't even a good answer.
The other day in class, I used the word "polite-er".
I was all like (to myself), "Hey, good answer. Wait. Did I just say 'polite-er'? Damn."
Actually, it wasn't even a good answer.
Sunday, November 20, 2005
It's totally right about Little Red Corvette
You Scored 60% Correct |
 You are a solid child of the 80s You'd never confuse Tiffany from Debbie And while you may not know Prince's first #1 hit You know every word to Little Red Corvette |
oh great. I'll just eat Kraft Dinner...
| You Should Get a PhD in Liberal Arts (like political science, literature, or philosophy) |
 You're a great thinker and a true philosopher. You'd make a talented professor or writer. |
not entirely true...
| You are Agnostic |
 You're not sure if God exists, and you don't care. For you, there's no true way to figure out the divine. You rather focus on what you can control - your own life. And you tend to resent when others "sell" religion to you. |
musings while driving today
I got into the car and turned on the radio just in time to hear The Vinyl Cafe, and I smilled and thought, 'alllll right!' when I heard Stuart McLean's voice.
I love getting into the car when my fave radio shows are on.
However, Stuart McLean's voice was saying goodbye until next week. So I was all, 'bummer'.
And then, after the news, they introduced Wiretap. That is totally even better than the Vinyl Cafe, so I ended up driving past Safeway and into some residential area just so I could listen to it.
I laughed myself stupid. I recommend it (the show...and laughing yourself stupid).
...
When I don't feel like listening to what's on CBC at that moment, i surf other radio stations. WTF? Why does almost every other radio station in Calgary suck? There is NOTHING good to listen to...'cept CJSW and sometimes they're stinky, too.
...
Was thinking about my typology class and how I found a language atlas at a bookstore yesterday. Typology is a type of linguistics where you look at features in a language and compare them with the other languages in the world. You find that of all the possibilities, really most languages fall within only a few of them.
Anyway...I won't get into it.
The guy who started it was named Greenberg who wrote this paper in 1966 that turned the linguistic world on its ear! *echo*
In it he wrote 45 'universals', which is to say he studied a bunch of languages, compared them and found out 45 things that always or usually happen. And they're written like this:
Universal #5: If a language has dominant SOV word order and the genitive follows the governing noun, then the adjective likewise follows the noun.
(Which just means that if the word order of a language (like Japanese) is subject, object, verb and if you use a possessive phrase (John's car) the possessing thing (John) is after the noun in possesses (car John's) then an adjective (black car) will also follow the noun it's modifying (car black). If you care.)
This is an awful long setup for a stupid joke that made me laugh in the car...but Rush was on one of the stations.
Himbly's universal #1: If a person's genetic code (for gender) is XX and if their country of origin is Canada then, with greater than chance frequency, that person will dislike Rush.
...
Good lord. I got nothing these days.
I love getting into the car when my fave radio shows are on.
However, Stuart McLean's voice was saying goodbye until next week. So I was all, 'bummer'.
And then, after the news, they introduced Wiretap. That is totally even better than the Vinyl Cafe, so I ended up driving past Safeway and into some residential area just so I could listen to it.
I laughed myself stupid. I recommend it (the show...and laughing yourself stupid).
...
When I don't feel like listening to what's on CBC at that moment, i surf other radio stations. WTF? Why does almost every other radio station in Calgary suck? There is NOTHING good to listen to...'cept CJSW and sometimes they're stinky, too.
...
Was thinking about my typology class and how I found a language atlas at a bookstore yesterday. Typology is a type of linguistics where you look at features in a language and compare them with the other languages in the world. You find that of all the possibilities, really most languages fall within only a few of them.
Anyway...I won't get into it.
The guy who started it was named Greenberg who wrote this paper in 1966 that turned the linguistic world on its ear! *echo*
In it he wrote 45 'universals', which is to say he studied a bunch of languages, compared them and found out 45 things that always or usually happen. And they're written like this:
Universal #5: If a language has dominant SOV word order and the genitive follows the governing noun, then the adjective likewise follows the noun.
(Which just means that if the word order of a language (like Japanese) is subject, object, verb and if you use a possessive phrase (John's car) the possessing thing (John) is after the noun in possesses (car John's) then an adjective (black car) will also follow the noun it's modifying (car black). If you care.)
This is an awful long setup for a stupid joke that made me laugh in the car...but Rush was on one of the stations.
Himbly's universal #1: If a person's genetic code (for gender) is XX and if their country of origin is Canada then, with greater than chance frequency, that person will dislike Rush.
...
Good lord. I got nothing these days.
Friday, November 18, 2005
yeah, 'cept I'm not taking phonetics this semester...
I still can't sleep.
I'm not even tired. I go to bed late, wake up early, and aside from an unpleasant and tired hour or two in the morning, I'm okay.
I finished my paper and handed it in.
But...when we handed it in she told us if we wanted it back until Monday, it was fine with her.
I turned the offer down. I didn't want to look at it again.
But now I'm wanting to read it over (it's still on my computer) but I'm scared that I'm going to decide everything's wrong and I need to redo the whole thing.
"...and my inner voice is saying, "Don't go."..."
--aww..heck. I'm trying to quote Best In Show but I don't remember how it goes.
Anyway...I'm listening to my inner 'fraidy-cat voice 'cause I was quite chuffed with myself earlier when I thought I at least knew what I was writing about in this last paper. Now that I've had time to think about it, my inner critic voice is yelling, "Fool! You don't know the first thing about ergativity in Kalaallisut!"
But, right now, I wouldn't trade this for anything.
I am so happy right now to be going back to school and studying stuff I care about.
The problem with linguistics is that you fall in love with every language you research. I've been working on Kalaallisut since September now, I've looked at its word order, morphology, how it modifies its nouns and where it puts its possessors. I've tried to prove that it's ergative (or not in a small group of nouns), that it's polysynthetic, and that it's highly fusional. Oh, and certainly not least, I've researched its speakers...where they live, how, how many, how commited they are to keeping Kalaallisut alive (real committed, btw)...
And I know almost nothing about this language. Seriously.
There's so much.
I don't know how the writers of grammars do it, frankly. The guy that wrote mine had to spend...I don't even know how long in West Greenland recording data. Then he comes home (or stays there...I don't know) and writes a book based on his findings.
I don't think I've ever read so many sentences about ptarmigan, sled dogs and polar bears in all my life.
Oh...and did you know that the Kalaallisut word for 'polar bear' is nanuq? Oh...and that Kalaallisut is a very close relative to Canadian Inuit dialects?
[q] is phonetic for a voiceless uvular stop. In other words...if you make a k sound, you feel the back of your tongue touching the back of your palate..the soft part...the velum? Your uvula is the dinger donger in the back of your throat. Now, try to get the back of your tongue to touch that and try the k sound again. If you can do it, you make a [q].
(I still remember the day we learned this in phonetics..all of us trying to make the [q] sound with our prof excitedly yelling, 'Further back! Further back! You! (pointing) Try it! Further back!')
So...since English speakers don't make that sound, we use [k] to replace it. So, when people say Nanuk of the North...it actually means polar bear.
Neat, huh?
Anyway...to all those that think linguistics is easy, I say this:
Up your nose with a rubber hose.
And since this is my blog and I've been reading a lot of bloggers lately saying, "this is my blog, I'll write what I want"...Ima write what I want.
'cause that's just how this bi-atch rolls.
And what I want is to write this (so prolly best to skip it):
I've never worked with a language like this before. There is so much morphology (prefixes, suffixes, infixes) going on and I used to hate studying morphology...so it totally effed me up at first. But now, g-damn if I don't think that it's the coolest thing ever that you can incorporate a verb into your noun and keep going.
That means a whole sentence ~can~ be said in one word. Not always, but it can be done without it being weird to anyone speaking or listening.
Isn't that cool?
Like you can say the word "aqissirniarput" and it means "They are hunting ptarmigan"
...
(told ya so about the ptarmigan and stuff)
...
because it's actually one noun with two suffixes: aqissir-niar-put (ptarmigan-hunt-3rd person plural). A suffix just like in English when we say accomplish-ment-s (accomplish (verb) - ment (makes it a noun) - s (plural)). 'Cept, instead of the middle affix meaning 'make a noun/verb' it is a verb.
The 3rd person plural at the end is a bit of a different story but I won't get into it here. Probably no one is reading this anymore -if they even started.
Anyway..that's just a small thing I had to get off my chest. Linguistics is so effing neat. I didn't realize how much I missed it.
Oh dear. I've got to get to bed.
I'm not even tired. I go to bed late, wake up early, and aside from an unpleasant and tired hour or two in the morning, I'm okay.
I finished my paper and handed it in.
But...when we handed it in she told us if we wanted it back until Monday, it was fine with her.
I turned the offer down. I didn't want to look at it again.
But now I'm wanting to read it over (it's still on my computer) but I'm scared that I'm going to decide everything's wrong and I need to redo the whole thing.
"...and my inner voice is saying, "Don't go."..."
--aww..heck. I'm trying to quote Best In Show but I don't remember how it goes.
Anyway...I'm listening to my inner 'fraidy-cat voice 'cause I was quite chuffed with myself earlier when I thought I at least knew what I was writing about in this last paper. Now that I've had time to think about it, my inner critic voice is yelling, "Fool! You don't know the first thing about ergativity in Kalaallisut!"
But, right now, I wouldn't trade this for anything.
I am so happy right now to be going back to school and studying stuff I care about.
The problem with linguistics is that you fall in love with every language you research. I've been working on Kalaallisut since September now, I've looked at its word order, morphology, how it modifies its nouns and where it puts its possessors. I've tried to prove that it's ergative (or not in a small group of nouns), that it's polysynthetic, and that it's highly fusional. Oh, and certainly not least, I've researched its speakers...where they live, how, how many, how commited they are to keeping Kalaallisut alive (real committed, btw)...
And I know almost nothing about this language. Seriously.
There's so much.
I don't know how the writers of grammars do it, frankly. The guy that wrote mine had to spend...I don't even know how long in West Greenland recording data. Then he comes home (or stays there...I don't know) and writes a book based on his findings.
I don't think I've ever read so many sentences about ptarmigan, sled dogs and polar bears in all my life.
Oh...and did you know that the Kalaallisut word for 'polar bear' is nanuq? Oh...and that Kalaallisut is a very close relative to Canadian Inuit dialects?
[q] is phonetic for a voiceless uvular stop. In other words...if you make a k sound, you feel the back of your tongue touching the back of your palate..the soft part...the velum? Your uvula is the dinger donger in the back of your throat. Now, try to get the back of your tongue to touch that and try the k sound again. If you can do it, you make a [q].
(I still remember the day we learned this in phonetics..all of us trying to make the [q] sound with our prof excitedly yelling, 'Further back! Further back! You! (pointing) Try it! Further back!')
So...since English speakers don't make that sound, we use [k] to replace it. So, when people say Nanuk of the North...it actually means polar bear.
Neat, huh?
Anyway...to all those that think linguistics is easy, I say this:
Up your nose with a rubber hose.
And since this is my blog and I've been reading a lot of bloggers lately saying, "this is my blog, I'll write what I want"...Ima write what I want.
'cause that's just how this bi-atch rolls.
And what I want is to write this (so prolly best to skip it):
I've never worked with a language like this before. There is so much morphology (prefixes, suffixes, infixes) going on and I used to hate studying morphology...so it totally effed me up at first. But now, g-damn if I don't think that it's the coolest thing ever that you can incorporate a verb into your noun and keep going.
That means a whole sentence ~can~ be said in one word. Not always, but it can be done without it being weird to anyone speaking or listening.
Isn't that cool?
Like you can say the word "aqissirniarput" and it means "They are hunting ptarmigan"
...
(told ya so about the ptarmigan and stuff)
...
because it's actually one noun with two suffixes: aqissir-niar-put (ptarmigan-hunt-3rd person plural). A suffix just like in English when we say accomplish-ment-s (accomplish (verb) - ment (makes it a noun) - s (plural)). 'Cept, instead of the middle affix meaning 'make a noun/verb' it is a verb.
The 3rd person plural at the end is a bit of a different story but I won't get into it here. Probably no one is reading this anymore -if they even started.
Anyway..that's just a small thing I had to get off my chest. Linguistics is so effing neat. I didn't realize how much I missed it.
Oh dear. I've got to get to bed.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
pwned
I'm outing Black Mana.
If Black Mana was a warlock...
if he had a horse...
if he was level 60...
if he was...uh....human?
This is what he'd look like.
Well, ~I'm~ proud of him and his awesome looking dreadsteed.
w00t!
/grats blackmana
If Black Mana was a warlock...
if he had a horse...
if he was level 60...
if he was...uh....human?
This is what he'd look like.
Well, ~I'm~ proud of him and his awesome looking dreadsteed.
w00t!
/grats blackmana
well, not exactly...
I'm done.
I've finished another paper on W.Greenlandic and I'm thinking it's much better than the last.
Whew.
The last few days I've not been able to sleep until late, and then I've had the most crazy, effed up dreams.
wish I could remember some.
So, running on little sleep lately but not feeling tired. Until the morning. The morning eats bags of dick.
But I'm finished that g-damn paper and this time...this time....I think I even knew what I was talking about. In about a week or two I'll find out I totally didn't...but shut up. Let me ride this post paper happy balloon.
Lots of stuff I feel like complaining about, but I'll save it for another day.
Love, himbly
I've finished another paper on W.Greenlandic and I'm thinking it's much better than the last.
Whew.
The last few days I've not been able to sleep until late, and then I've had the most crazy, effed up dreams.
wish I could remember some.
So, running on little sleep lately but not feeling tired. Until the morning. The morning eats bags of dick.
But I'm finished that g-damn paper and this time...this time....I think I even knew what I was talking about. In about a week or two I'll find out I totally didn't...but shut up. Let me ride this post paper happy balloon.
Lots of stuff I feel like complaining about, but I'll save it for another day.
Love, himbly
Saturday, November 12, 2005
on the wagon
Well...
that's it.
Cake's gone. It's Saturday eve and the last night I'll have sweets.
Back in the 'sugar-is-the-sweet-sweet-devil' saddle again.
*sigh*...it's gonna take a lot of soy smoothies to wipe the taste of homemade blackforest cake from my memory.
excuse me...
I...I...I think there's something in my eye...
that's it.
Cake's gone. It's Saturday eve and the last night I'll have sweets.
Back in the 'sugar-is-the-sweet-sweet-devil' saddle again.
*sigh*...it's gonna take a lot of soy smoothies to wipe the taste of homemade blackforest cake from my memory.
excuse me...
I...I...I think there's something in my eye...
Thursday, November 10, 2005
thirty three
One of my dearest friends, Ivana, wrote me this yesterday:
...you've now lived as long as Jesus and are divisible by 11!!!
Oh my god.
She's right on both counts.
But Jesus died at 33.
Gosh.
Now I need to find someone else to model my life on.
...you've now lived as long as Jesus and are divisible by 11!!!
Oh my god.
She's right on both counts.
But Jesus died at 33.
Gosh.
Now I need to find someone else to model my life on.
chubby girl
*burp*
I've had left over birthday cake 3 times today.
I haven't eaten sweets for 4 months, but I relaxed the rule until Sunday. I'm on a sugar kick that'll rot my teeth and frenzy my brain.
...and how...
yee haw!
I ate so much yesterday that, aside from my b-cake breakfast, I've only been able to eat salads. Dad took me out for lunch, Mum made me dinner (and said cake).
I'm spoilt.
Only child.
Full only child.
That picture....that's me naked.
I've had left over birthday cake 3 times today.
I haven't eaten sweets for 4 months, but I relaxed the rule until Sunday. I'm on a sugar kick that'll rot my teeth and frenzy my brain.
...and how...
yee haw!
I ate so much yesterday that, aside from my b-cake breakfast, I've only been able to eat salads. Dad took me out for lunch, Mum made me dinner (and said cake).
I'm spoilt.
Only child.
Full only child.
That picture....that's me naked.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
bummer
Ever have those days when you're gripped in self-doubt?
When you answer a question wrong in class because you were confused and nervous talking in front of people, but it's a question on something you're supposed to be the class "expert" in so it nags at you all day long and then you start to see your future go down the tubes and you become paralyzed that maybe you're actually quite mediocre and what are you doing making such a giant change in your life anyway?
Yeah...me too.
ugh.
When you answer a question wrong in class because you were confused and nervous talking in front of people, but it's a question on something you're supposed to be the class "expert" in so it nags at you all day long and then you start to see your future go down the tubes and you become paralyzed that maybe you're actually quite mediocre and what are you doing making such a giant change in your life anyway?
Yeah...me too.
ugh.
Saturday, November 05, 2005
The question mark stands for "what else?"
I said I'd make dinner tonight.
So, when I got back from my grocery trip (I've never been good at making magic from whatever's left in the fridge) I peeked my head around the door and said,
"Who wants a snacky dinner?"
"Me!", we both yelled!
Then, "Hurrah!"
So, I handed him a bowl of Kettle Chips (Chipotle BBQ) and told him to wait while I finished the rest.
The rest was pita, feta and olives and then a big plate of nachos.
We're both happy. And full.
I'm going to make the best mom someday.
'cause I'm less concerned about nutrition and more concerned about theme.
So, when I got back from my grocery trip (I've never been good at making magic from whatever's left in the fridge) I peeked my head around the door and said,
"Who wants a snacky dinner?"
"Me!", we both yelled!
Then, "Hurrah!"
So, I handed him a bowl of Kettle Chips (Chipotle BBQ) and told him to wait while I finished the rest.
The rest was pita, feta and olives and then a big plate of nachos.
We're both happy. And full.
I'm going to make the best mom someday.
'cause I'm less concerned about nutrition and more concerned about theme.
Friday, November 04, 2005
Apparently...
If you ask Jeeves what the top ten sexual fantasies of women are...
or...
....how to soften peanut butter...
you get my blog.
heh.
funny.
or...
....how to soften peanut butter...
you get my blog.
heh.
funny.
Thursday, November 03, 2005
Oedipus Rex and the death of Woody Allen
The other day in class, a girl turned to me and sighed, “I think this play has been talked to death. We were studying Sophocles’ Oedipus Rex.
Written about 2500 years ago, it’s been discussed, debated, fixated on, inspected, infected, rejected, and se-lected….
(thanks to Arlo Guthrie for that last bit)
…and now…now in a first year Greek and Roman studies class that’s so freaking easy I do a jig with every new assignment…now sitting in the bowels of the science theatres at the UofC…now we’ve finally talked this play to death.
Well, I’ll be…
I just stammered for a second then pathetically protested, ‘it’s a really good play, though.’
And this is my point. A week previous to this encounter, I took on about 4 or 5 of these kids telling me that the film Oedipus the King was boring. Boring! Sure, it was done as a filmed play. Sure they didn’t change sets or costumes. Sure there was no car chases, love scenes (aside from with his mother, ew.), or Will Ferrell. But boring?
“All they did was stand there and scream at each other! Wahhh. Wahhh. Wahhh. We’re big babies that need our entertainment spoon-fed to us.”
I added the last bit.
I’m disappointed.
This…this is why no one watches Woody Allen anymore. No one cares about dialogue. No one cares about examining a character’s being and trying to understand them and, maybe, if you can, the part of them that’s in you.
I watched Hanna and Her Sisters the other day.
I could go on about W.A.’s insight into the human condition, or his ability to reach ‘the rest of us’, or his refusal to separate good or bad in anyone, or his own public wrestling with the same questions that plague all of us.
G-damn. Or even his ability, every once in awhile, to phrase a line just so and it makes me tear up.
But then I’d sound like a twat.
But I don’t think movies like Troy are going anywhere, so we’d better get used to them.
Perhaps we could get Vin Diesel to play Oedipus and Kate Beckinsale to play Jocasta. If we see him chased out of Thebes by some chariots, but he kills them all and returns to his wife (who somehow realizes she’s not his mother rather than killing herself)…..Hollywood? Here’s the pitch.
Written about 2500 years ago, it’s been discussed, debated, fixated on, inspected, infected, rejected, and se-lected….
(thanks to Arlo Guthrie for that last bit)
…and now…now in a first year Greek and Roman studies class that’s so freaking easy I do a jig with every new assignment…now sitting in the bowels of the science theatres at the UofC…now we’ve finally talked this play to death.
Well, I’ll be…
I just stammered for a second then pathetically protested, ‘it’s a really good play, though.’
And this is my point. A week previous to this encounter, I took on about 4 or 5 of these kids telling me that the film Oedipus the King was boring. Boring! Sure, it was done as a filmed play. Sure they didn’t change sets or costumes. Sure there was no car chases, love scenes (aside from with his mother, ew.), or Will Ferrell. But boring?
“All they did was stand there and scream at each other! Wahhh. Wahhh. Wahhh. We’re big babies that need our entertainment spoon-fed to us.”
I added the last bit.
I’m disappointed.
This…this is why no one watches Woody Allen anymore. No one cares about dialogue. No one cares about examining a character’s being and trying to understand them and, maybe, if you can, the part of them that’s in you.
I watched Hanna and Her Sisters the other day.
I could go on about W.A.’s insight into the human condition, or his ability to reach ‘the rest of us’, or his refusal to separate good or bad in anyone, or his own public wrestling with the same questions that plague all of us.
G-damn. Or even his ability, every once in awhile, to phrase a line just so and it makes me tear up.
But then I’d sound like a twat.
But I don’t think movies like Troy are going anywhere, so we’d better get used to them.
Perhaps we could get Vin Diesel to play Oedipus and Kate Beckinsale to play Jocasta. If we see him chased out of Thebes by some chariots, but he kills them all and returns to his wife (who somehow realizes she’s not his mother rather than killing herself)…..Hollywood? Here’s the pitch.
Wednesday, November 02, 2005
grody creepy
The other day I was at work, and this happened:
The characters:
Me: heroine
Mavis: sorta shares a workspace with me. She can be bitchy, but after awhile I've gotten to really like her. She is 57 and never married...and seems to like it that way.
Larry: creepy creepy creepy. Not lecherous, but inappropriately open about his sexuality. Apparently used to 'swing' when he was married. With whom, I have no clue...baboons? they swing. So do bonobos, I hear.
of course, names have been changed to protect...well, me.
Anyway...Mavis and Larry are friends, and Mavis called Larry in his office to ask him to a craft show this (next?) weekend.
From what I heard from her end of the phonecall, I was able to figure out that his answer was, 'Can't. I'm a pathetic creep and I have to go to a sex show at the Roundup Centre because I have the need to let everyone know I am a sexual being. It turns me on to think of you thinking of me having lots of weird sex.'
Or something like that.
I'm good at reading between the lines.
Then, obviously, he invited her and lept out of his chair, sex pamphlet in hand, to run down and show her (and me, 'cause I sit next to her) his dirty little weekend plan.
Enter Larry.
"Yeah...it's a lot of fun. You should go. I never miss a year....yadda...yadda...open minded...yadda yadda....sex toys...yadda yadda..."
barf
Okay.
When I was younger, I used to think this sort of thing was cool.
Younger <--- key
Of course you want to check out what people are doing. Sex is so taboo in so many ways, that you want to look behind those drawn curtains...get giddy and giggly...all that sorta stuff.
Then...you realize a few things:
1- Unless you are ~super~ hot, almost NO ONE wants to picture you have sex. Your significant other, those who have crushes on you...and perhaps the odd freak you meet on the bus. Certainly not if you are a 40'ish divorcee cruisin' a sex 'conference' with a group of buddies patting yourself on the back for having an 'open mind'.
2- a sex conference at the Roundup Centre is going to be filled with the same type of person I described above. And a few hired hot people.
3- you know how creepy sex shops are? Think of that but 100x.
4- no one cares if you're 'open minded' or not. No one really wants to hear about it.
ack. tired of listing.
My point is that after awhile one...well, I obviously can't speak for everyone here, so 'me'...
My point is that after awhile I came to the conclusion that sex was a private thing, and should remain so. I've told stories to friends about past experiences..and some of them are damn funny...but I wouldn't dream of discussing my and my bf's sex life with anyone.
So, if you want to go to a huge sex-raviganza...shut up about it. Espeically at work. Tell your close friends, they probably care. I don't.
But...why go? If you want to know about sex, we have a HUGE internet that can tell you everything you need to know and you don't need to go meet anyone face to face to hear them discuss their product or technique in a frank yet grody manner.
Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful that we're living in a society where people can be open enough to discuss their problems. Even for entertainment. I guess the difference is that I get to choose to read or look at what I want, but at work I've got to listen to perv-boy describe his sex-filled weekend.
The sex show...well..whatever. I just think those things are gross. I will bet $50 that anything in there is going to be about as clever, original, insightful or hot as the headlines on a Cosmo cover and tons of people are going to go just 'cause they want to 'expand' their minds...sexually speaking.
ick.
The characters:
Me: heroine
Mavis: sorta shares a workspace with me. She can be bitchy, but after awhile I've gotten to really like her. She is 57 and never married...and seems to like it that way.
Larry: creepy creepy creepy. Not lecherous, but inappropriately open about his sexuality. Apparently used to 'swing' when he was married. With whom, I have no clue...baboons? they swing. So do bonobos, I hear.
of course, names have been changed to protect...well, me.
Anyway...Mavis and Larry are friends, and Mavis called Larry in his office to ask him to a craft show this (next?) weekend.
From what I heard from her end of the phonecall, I was able to figure out that his answer was, 'Can't. I'm a pathetic creep and I have to go to a sex show at the Roundup Centre because I have the need to let everyone know I am a sexual being. It turns me on to think of you thinking of me having lots of weird sex.'
Or something like that.
I'm good at reading between the lines.
Then, obviously, he invited her and lept out of his chair, sex pamphlet in hand, to run down and show her (and me, 'cause I sit next to her) his dirty little weekend plan.
Enter Larry.
"Yeah...it's a lot of fun. You should go. I never miss a year....yadda...yadda...open minded...yadda yadda....sex toys...yadda yadda..."
barf
Okay.
When I was younger, I used to think this sort of thing was cool.
Younger <--- key
Of course you want to check out what people are doing. Sex is so taboo in so many ways, that you want to look behind those drawn curtains...get giddy and giggly...all that sorta stuff.
Then...you realize a few things:
1- Unless you are ~super~ hot, almost NO ONE wants to picture you have sex. Your significant other, those who have crushes on you...and perhaps the odd freak you meet on the bus. Certainly not if you are a 40'ish divorcee cruisin' a sex 'conference' with a group of buddies patting yourself on the back for having an 'open mind'.
2- a sex conference at the Roundup Centre is going to be filled with the same type of person I described above. And a few hired hot people.
3- you know how creepy sex shops are? Think of that but 100x.
4- no one cares if you're 'open minded' or not. No one really wants to hear about it.
ack. tired of listing.
My point is that after awhile one...well, I obviously can't speak for everyone here, so 'me'...
My point is that after awhile I came to the conclusion that sex was a private thing, and should remain so. I've told stories to friends about past experiences..and some of them are damn funny...but I wouldn't dream of discussing my and my bf's sex life with anyone.
So, if you want to go to a huge sex-raviganza...shut up about it. Espeically at work. Tell your close friends, they probably care. I don't.
But...why go? If you want to know about sex, we have a HUGE internet that can tell you everything you need to know and you don't need to go meet anyone face to face to hear them discuss their product or technique in a frank yet grody manner.
Don't get me wrong. I'm grateful that we're living in a society where people can be open enough to discuss their problems. Even for entertainment. I guess the difference is that I get to choose to read or look at what I want, but at work I've got to listen to perv-boy describe his sex-filled weekend.
The sex show...well..whatever. I just think those things are gross. I will bet $50 that anything in there is going to be about as clever, original, insightful or hot as the headlines on a Cosmo cover and tons of people are going to go just 'cause they want to 'expand' their minds...sexually speaking.
ick.
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