In class yesterday we briefly discussed methods of argumentation. Specifically, some of the more faulty methods of argumentation. We discussed, among other things, the passion some people have for the use of a Strawman.
Strawman arguments are those where the presenter of the argument makes up a fictitious enemy. Often, that enemy is an exagerated version of those whom he/she intends to argue against. Then they go to work fighting against this fictitious enemy and when they figure they've won, they declare victory over the whole shebang. But really, they're fighting no one.
I thought back to something I saw the other day. This strawman is so huge that there's practically hippies dancing around it in the desert. My favourite part...hahaha...is the 'take that, feminists!' attitude that she and her buddies seem to take when what they're saying is an absolute crock of crap mixed with nonsense. Yes...wounded to the core are all women who gladly associate themselves with the word 'feminist'.
You want 5 things that feminism has done for me?
1- I have the right to vote and I am seen as a person in the eyes of the law.
2- I have the right to my own body. I can decide to not get pregnant, to stop a pregnancy safely, and I also have the means to fight against those who may choose to harm it. This is not a right that women around the globe have access to.
3- I have the right to pursue an education and am proud to be the student of such brilliant men and women.
4- I have the right to work without the harrassment of bosses and coworkers. I have the right to any job I am qualified for without regard to my gender (among other things).
5- I have the honour of having many male friends (and a wonderful boyfriend) who understand all these things and more besides. This, far from making them "pussies", makes them far more manly than any mullet wearing douchebag that cheats on his wife. Wait. I know plenty of douchebags that cheat on their wives that don't have mullets at all. Point being that men who accept a woman's strengths and are supporting and proud be it their daughter, sister, wife, girlfriend or friend are cool.
6- Due to my geographic location, socio-economic status, and other stuff that don't have to do with my gender anymore, I have opportunities most people in the world don't even dream of. If I work hard enough and play my cards right (and hopefully am smart enough), what I can accomplish is nearly limitless in fields my foremothers never even thought to go near. If those millions of women in a very similar situation to mine don't realize that someone before you paved that way, then they are being simply ungrateful and selfish.
...and no, with the possible exception of #5, I did not get all these things without someone fighting for them and I call the people who fought for these things feminists.
Saturday, September 30, 2006
That's how Nanny rolls...
Yesterday was the 26th aniversary of my grandfather's death, so my mother and I went to pick up my grandmother and take her to the cemetery. I know this sounds like sad times but it was 26 years ago so it's less sad and more just taking my grandmother so that she could hang out at his grave and we could be there with her. She wants to go, we go...but it's not a morbid thing.
Anyway, that aside. After my class yesterday, I drove up to Mum's house and then we both went to Nanny's to pick her up. My grandmother, as many who know me already understand, is quite a woman. She just turned 90 this summer and she still lives in the same house the family lived in shortly after they moved to Canada. Incidently, my own parents moved into a house 5 blocks away just before I was born, so I attended the same school as my aunt and uncle had before they lost their Scottish accents.
No...we're not Scottish. Short answer to follow:
Nanny grew up in Poland and was moved to Germany and then moved to Scotland where she reunited with my grandfather after 8 years of war estrangement. Her first exposure to English was in Scotland...which, as you can imagine really makes for a crazy accent in Canada...and then she had a stroke 6 years ago which left her with a mild aphasia. Her words are mixed up, in a nutshell. This is my grandmother's language history and why I will be writing the way I do when I quote her. I won't do the aphasia part as you are certain to not understand me then.
(By the way, my grandmother was taken, without choice, by the German army to Germany where she continued to live as a forced labourer for the rest of the war. She was 27 and she never went back to Poland. Anyone having problems with us seeking reparations for her during the short period they were available is invited to stick a carrot in their bottoms.)
So..where was I? Yes. So, we arrive at Nanny's house and she's insisting we go out to her backyard for reasons we weren't able to figure out but dutifully trotted out there anyway. Nanny has a pretty big yard, which she adores and she truly finds energy in tending to her garden. It is surrounded by a wooden fence, built -I believe- by one of my uncles maybe a decade ago. It's held up quite well, but probably could use a coat of paint by now. If you're my grandmother, it needed a coat of paint yesterday. So...my 90 year old grandmother decided she was going to paint the durn fence. And she did...only 5 boards, but they were well and evenly painted. With a bath brush.
Yes. She painted 5 boards of her fence using the paint she found somewhere in her little metal shed (that I used to play house in countless times) and an old bathbrush. The kind that you use in the shower for your back that have soft bristles on the one side and hard knobs on the other for massaging.
Ahem. Again, because I think it bears repeating a third time. My 90 year old grandmother painted her fence with a bathbrush yesterday.
My mother, of course, protested. "Mum," she said, "we'll get someone to do it if you want it painted." Nanny just shrugged and sort of agreed. Then, after thinking about it for another minute, my mother added, "But it's fall, Mum. There's no point in doing it now, it's going to snow fairly soon."
My grandmother looked defiant as she slowly climbed the stairs back to her back porch, "I maybe no here springtime, but I wanting dis now, so I doing. You want in spring, you doing. I here today. I want today. I do today."
Mum and I looked at each other exaspirated but proud to be of this insane genetic line.
Nanny, as much as I adore the little package of pure stubborn ability, isn't the type of elderly woman that gives inspirational speeches. Most of what she says I do not enter under my internal category of 'sage advice'. But this...this little outburst I do interpret as wisdom and gladly file under the heading of 'words to live by'.
Thanks Nanny.
Anyway, that aside. After my class yesterday, I drove up to Mum's house and then we both went to Nanny's to pick her up. My grandmother, as many who know me already understand, is quite a woman. She just turned 90 this summer and she still lives in the same house the family lived in shortly after they moved to Canada. Incidently, my own parents moved into a house 5 blocks away just before I was born, so I attended the same school as my aunt and uncle had before they lost their Scottish accents.
No...we're not Scottish. Short answer to follow:
Nanny grew up in Poland and was moved to Germany and then moved to Scotland where she reunited with my grandfather after 8 years of war estrangement. Her first exposure to English was in Scotland...which, as you can imagine really makes for a crazy accent in Canada...and then she had a stroke 6 years ago which left her with a mild aphasia. Her words are mixed up, in a nutshell. This is my grandmother's language history and why I will be writing the way I do when I quote her. I won't do the aphasia part as you are certain to not understand me then.
(By the way, my grandmother was taken, without choice, by the German army to Germany where she continued to live as a forced labourer for the rest of the war. She was 27 and she never went back to Poland. Anyone having problems with us seeking reparations for her during the short period they were available is invited to stick a carrot in their bottoms.)
So..where was I? Yes. So, we arrive at Nanny's house and she's insisting we go out to her backyard for reasons we weren't able to figure out but dutifully trotted out there anyway. Nanny has a pretty big yard, which she adores and she truly finds energy in tending to her garden. It is surrounded by a wooden fence, built -I believe- by one of my uncles maybe a decade ago. It's held up quite well, but probably could use a coat of paint by now. If you're my grandmother, it needed a coat of paint yesterday. So...my 90 year old grandmother decided she was going to paint the durn fence. And she did...only 5 boards, but they were well and evenly painted. With a bath brush.
Yes. She painted 5 boards of her fence using the paint she found somewhere in her little metal shed (that I used to play house in countless times) and an old bathbrush. The kind that you use in the shower for your back that have soft bristles on the one side and hard knobs on the other for massaging.
Ahem. Again, because I think it bears repeating a third time. My 90 year old grandmother painted her fence with a bathbrush yesterday.
My mother, of course, protested. "Mum," she said, "we'll get someone to do it if you want it painted." Nanny just shrugged and sort of agreed. Then, after thinking about it for another minute, my mother added, "But it's fall, Mum. There's no point in doing it now, it's going to snow fairly soon."
My grandmother looked defiant as she slowly climbed the stairs back to her back porch, "I maybe no here springtime, but I wanting dis now, so I doing. You want in spring, you doing. I here today. I want today. I do today."
Mum and I looked at each other exaspirated but proud to be of this insane genetic line.
Nanny, as much as I adore the little package of pure stubborn ability, isn't the type of elderly woman that gives inspirational speeches. Most of what she says I do not enter under my internal category of 'sage advice'. But this...this little outburst I do interpret as wisdom and gladly file under the heading of 'words to live by'.
Thanks Nanny.
Thursday, September 28, 2006
I swear on a stack of myspace profiles
Short post today, and very probably not well thought out.
But, I have a confession to make. You know that little link on my sidebar? The one that tells you cheerily that you, too, can click it and 'be my friend' at myspace? I'm addicted to that little underlined linked beauty.
Know why? 'Cause *deep breath*...I stalk Calgarians. I don't get out much these days. My friends, well, although there's always ~something~ going on, it's rarely due to their own stupidity because they don't have much of that anymore. None of it is the real gritty type gossip that I miss and that I used to have regular contact with through dating complete f-ups and knowing their friends. None of it is the type of gossip you can acquire 3 pints in while people watching at a crusty (yet popular) pub. Enter myspace.
I read about myspace and the total douchebags that rule it in Vanity Fair. I was, however, amazed. Like shitting, myspace is another in that list of 'great levelers'. My profile/page is just as accessable as K-Fed's and his is as accessable as Noam Chomsky's. We all had to 'sign up', we all had to gussy it up the way we wanted, we all have the option to gussy it up more, if we choose. We all write, or dont' write. We all accept friends, or don't accept friends. We're equal in this universe the internet provides us.
Then I found the pictures. Hey! I recognise that guy! Hey! I know that girl! Hey! They write stuff about their lives and, if you read between the lines, it's pure hilarity...or it's sad. Sometimes. But so is dirty, dirty gossip...which I love!
If I ruled it, though....I'd ban the option for anyone really over 18 to set it to private. Stuck up bitches.
But, I have a confession to make. You know that little link on my sidebar? The one that tells you cheerily that you, too, can click it and 'be my friend' at myspace? I'm addicted to that little underlined linked beauty.
Know why? 'Cause *deep breath*...I stalk Calgarians. I don't get out much these days. My friends, well, although there's always ~something~ going on, it's rarely due to their own stupidity because they don't have much of that anymore. None of it is the real gritty type gossip that I miss and that I used to have regular contact with through dating complete f-ups and knowing their friends. None of it is the type of gossip you can acquire 3 pints in while people watching at a crusty (yet popular) pub. Enter myspace.
I read about myspace and the total douchebags that rule it in Vanity Fair. I was, however, amazed. Like shitting, myspace is another in that list of 'great levelers'. My profile/page is just as accessable as K-Fed's and his is as accessable as Noam Chomsky's. We all had to 'sign up', we all had to gussy it up the way we wanted, we all have the option to gussy it up more, if we choose. We all write, or dont' write. We all accept friends, or don't accept friends. We're equal in this universe the internet provides us.
Then I found the pictures. Hey! I recognise that guy! Hey! I know that girl! Hey! They write stuff about their lives and, if you read between the lines, it's pure hilarity...or it's sad. Sometimes. But so is dirty, dirty gossip...which I love!
If I ruled it, though....I'd ban the option for anyone really over 18 to set it to private. Stuck up bitches.
Friday, September 22, 2006
my hair is totally psyched, yo...
I got my hair cut a couple of weeks ago.
As always, my hairdresser/friend does a great job. I was also relieved to be rid of the shapeless mess my hair had become and turned into a style.
But here's the problem. Style and I have never been close. As much as I like style, as much as I covet style's affection, style continues to shun my advances. This, as all interactions between me and style, is what happened with the breakdown of my hair.
It just was simply ~not~ doing what it was meant to. I'm ~meant~ to have my bangs mostly sweeping off to the side while an adorable little faux-bob framed my face with a gentle curl. What happens is my bangs flop in one big lump while the longer sides frizz out and make it look like I"m a basset hound.
After a jolting workshop in scholarships and a more calming meeting with my prof, I ducked into the campus salon and waited for the girl to stop being busy. She looked up, 'hi.'
"Do you see what my hair is trying to do?", I pulled and fluffed my hair to show it's intention.
"uh huh"
"What do I need to make it do that?"
She asked a busy hairstylist who looked at me and said, "this stuff". Bed Head. Okay. Apply it at the end when my hair is dry. Alright, I'm game.
I bought it and did the rest of the stuff in my day.
It's morning now and I'm getting ready for my class. Showered, put in a little bit of stuff to give my hair some body and then waited for my hair to dry for the finishing touch.
I wrenched open the little blue sphere that contained this elixir of hair control (but not too much control) and what greeted me was a little message on the plastic throw-away cap.
"It's off the hook!"
Really? Wow. That makes me feel so much better. Because I was just standing here in my bathrobe with this strange new container in my hands nervous that what I actually was holding was a symbol of the corporate fuddy-duddies that don't speak to ~me~ as a hip, young(ish) person. I was nervous I was going to end up with my mother's hair...or worse, my grandmother's! I was nervous that you didn't ~get~ me and that this misunderstanding between us would make a mockery of me for the rest of the day. But, then, I saw your little message to me and the use of my slang told me that, you know, we're friends. In a different situation, me and this little plastic sphere would be going out, drinking, having fun. Shopping, maybe. Sure...it understands what would look good on me. Whew. I'm glad we cleared that up.
Hair stuff works fine, by the way...but I threw the note in the trash.
As always, my hairdresser/friend does a great job. I was also relieved to be rid of the shapeless mess my hair had become and turned into a style.
But here's the problem. Style and I have never been close. As much as I like style, as much as I covet style's affection, style continues to shun my advances. This, as all interactions between me and style, is what happened with the breakdown of my hair.
It just was simply ~not~ doing what it was meant to. I'm ~meant~ to have my bangs mostly sweeping off to the side while an adorable little faux-bob framed my face with a gentle curl. What happens is my bangs flop in one big lump while the longer sides frizz out and make it look like I"m a basset hound.
After a jolting workshop in scholarships and a more calming meeting with my prof, I ducked into the campus salon and waited for the girl to stop being busy. She looked up, 'hi.'
"Do you see what my hair is trying to do?", I pulled and fluffed my hair to show it's intention.
"uh huh"
"What do I need to make it do that?"
She asked a busy hairstylist who looked at me and said, "this stuff". Bed Head. Okay. Apply it at the end when my hair is dry. Alright, I'm game.
I bought it and did the rest of the stuff in my day.
It's morning now and I'm getting ready for my class. Showered, put in a little bit of stuff to give my hair some body and then waited for my hair to dry for the finishing touch.
I wrenched open the little blue sphere that contained this elixir of hair control (but not too much control) and what greeted me was a little message on the plastic throw-away cap.
"It's off the hook!"
Really? Wow. That makes me feel so much better. Because I was just standing here in my bathrobe with this strange new container in my hands nervous that what I actually was holding was a symbol of the corporate fuddy-duddies that don't speak to ~me~ as a hip, young(ish) person. I was nervous I was going to end up with my mother's hair...or worse, my grandmother's! I was nervous that you didn't ~get~ me and that this misunderstanding between us would make a mockery of me for the rest of the day. But, then, I saw your little message to me and the use of my slang told me that, you know, we're friends. In a different situation, me and this little plastic sphere would be going out, drinking, having fun. Shopping, maybe. Sure...it understands what would look good on me. Whew. I'm glad we cleared that up.
Hair stuff works fine, by the way...but I threw the note in the trash.
it's late...
...and I just marked 2/3rds of 64 assignments carefully printed out by the cute little hands of 64 baby linguists. Awww.
I was thinking today. Two events have passed by. Two events that I would have thought I'd have some sort of opinion or comment. But nothing. I don't want to comment on them. I think, however, I do want to comment on why I don't want to comment.
Pope Benedict. Funny. I know what he said. I know where it was said and why it was said and why ~he~ said it was said. I haven't delved that deeply...it was easy to find out all those things with minimal effort. What do I think? Meh. What is there to think?
Now...I realize that violence broke out and my 'meh' is not in any way meant to down grade or trivialize the impact made my his comments. But it's hard for me to make a comment about something that was so obviously going to happen. Pope Bulldog's job is to say that there are none better than Catholics. I know that's not what he said, but he was thinkin' it. What is not Pope Bulldog's job is finding a way into the hearts and souls of Muslims everywhere and be beloved by those who worship differently. So, do I think his words were very enlightened? No...not particularly. Do I ever really find papal words to be that inspirational or 'on-the-money'? Nope. Did I see this coming? Well, probably I would have had I thought about it...but no. I didn't. But it didn't surprise me.
Now, I've not kept up since the 'apology'...but I have heard that he's mentioned that this ancient text he quoted are not his thoughts but simply his recitition of what another man said about Mohammed, lo so many years ago. As a cardinal, Papa Ratzinger was a professor...not sure of what, but I'm guessing theology. He was one of the top advisors to JPII and, let's face it, you don't just 'get' to be pope. It's like any other top position...strategy, kiddo. Strategy. My point: he's not dumb. So, I'm having a difficult time figuring why he would quote this ancient text without thinking that it would be at least ~taken~ to be his own beliefs. Not sure...would need to do a bit more research on that.
Anyway...it causes violence. He probably should have thought to phrase things differently...those who are rioting should probably stop to think exactly what they are doing and I think we saw the whole mess before when it was drawn in 12 panels of cartoon hilarity (for 'hilarity' read 'lame-ity').
Now...on to Kimveer Gill.
Sad. Sad sad sad sad. Tragic. Awful. I felt a knot in my stomach when I heard.
He's dead. Shot himself, it turns out. So....there's nothing we can do about him. Let him pass because there are far more important people to focus your energy on. The victims and the families of the victims...and, let's give a thought to the Gill family themselves as, as far as we know, they were devastated by the horror their son caused.
These things are terrifying, but we can't let the insane acts of the occassional individual stop us from living our lives and taking the paths we have chosen.
Well..I was going to continue on, but I'm very tired now and bed is looking very inviting. Talk to you kids later.
I was thinking today. Two events have passed by. Two events that I would have thought I'd have some sort of opinion or comment. But nothing. I don't want to comment on them. I think, however, I do want to comment on why I don't want to comment.
Pope Benedict. Funny. I know what he said. I know where it was said and why it was said and why ~he~ said it was said. I haven't delved that deeply...it was easy to find out all those things with minimal effort. What do I think? Meh. What is there to think?
Now...I realize that violence broke out and my 'meh' is not in any way meant to down grade or trivialize the impact made my his comments. But it's hard for me to make a comment about something that was so obviously going to happen. Pope Bulldog's job is to say that there are none better than Catholics. I know that's not what he said, but he was thinkin' it. What is not Pope Bulldog's job is finding a way into the hearts and souls of Muslims everywhere and be beloved by those who worship differently. So, do I think his words were very enlightened? No...not particularly. Do I ever really find papal words to be that inspirational or 'on-the-money'? Nope. Did I see this coming? Well, probably I would have had I thought about it...but no. I didn't. But it didn't surprise me.
Now, I've not kept up since the 'apology'...but I have heard that he's mentioned that this ancient text he quoted are not his thoughts but simply his recitition of what another man said about Mohammed, lo so many years ago. As a cardinal, Papa Ratzinger was a professor...not sure of what, but I'm guessing theology. He was one of the top advisors to JPII and, let's face it, you don't just 'get' to be pope. It's like any other top position...strategy, kiddo. Strategy. My point: he's not dumb. So, I'm having a difficult time figuring why he would quote this ancient text without thinking that it would be at least ~taken~ to be his own beliefs. Not sure...would need to do a bit more research on that.
Anyway...it causes violence. He probably should have thought to phrase things differently...those who are rioting should probably stop to think exactly what they are doing and I think we saw the whole mess before when it was drawn in 12 panels of cartoon hilarity (for 'hilarity' read 'lame-ity').
Now...on to Kimveer Gill.
Sad. Sad sad sad sad. Tragic. Awful. I felt a knot in my stomach when I heard.
He's dead. Shot himself, it turns out. So....there's nothing we can do about him. Let him pass because there are far more important people to focus your energy on. The victims and the families of the victims...and, let's give a thought to the Gill family themselves as, as far as we know, they were devastated by the horror their son caused.
These things are terrifying, but we can't let the insane acts of the occassional individual stop us from living our lives and taking the paths we have chosen.
Well..I was going to continue on, but I'm very tired now and bed is looking very inviting. Talk to you kids later.
Tuesday, September 19, 2006
gettin' the ol' creative juices flowin'
I know I sound like a big ol' whiney baby, but really my "new" life has hit me like a ton of bricks stuffed in a really big sock and swung by a very attractive giant. Things are starting to find their own groove now, but until then, I'm pretty much void of blog topics. Well, I"m not, but I don't know what to say about the stuff I'm thinking.
Until then...another one of these lame 'found it on another blog' things:
YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: ( pet and current street name): Phoenix Fourth
YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (grandfather/grandmother on your moms side, your favorite candy): Zosia Truffle
YOUR "FLY Guy/Girl" NAME: (first initial of last name, first three letters of your middle name): A. Lou
YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal): [my favourite things never stick, unless they're food...so I'm going to pick the name of my fave yarn colour for the day and an animal I really like] Lettuce Monkey
YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born): Louise Calgary <--- lame
YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, first 2 letters of mom's maiden name and first 3 letters of the town you grew up in.): Arcstpiacal <--- that defies so many phonological rules of English, I just don't know
SUPERHERO NAME: ("The", your favorite color, favorite drink): The Green Water
NASCAR NAME: (the first name of both your grandfathers): This is not going to sound Nascar ---> Ludwick Harold
FUTURISTIC NAME: ( the name of your favorite perfume/cologne and the name of your favorite shoes): [currently my fave scent is a mixture of cedar, basil, and lavendar oils and my fave shoes have been worn so much that the brandname is unreadable...so...] Cedar Basil Lavendar Winners -or- CBL Winners
WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother/father's middle name ) Antonina Roy
Well..that was fun. Back to reading.
Until then...another one of these lame 'found it on another blog' things:
YOUR ROCK STAR NAME: ( pet and current street name): Phoenix Fourth
YOUR MOVIE STAR NAME: (grandfather/grandmother on your moms side, your favorite candy): Zosia Truffle
YOUR "FLY Guy/Girl" NAME: (first initial of last name, first three letters of your middle name): A. Lou
YOUR DETECTIVE NAME: (favorite color, favorite animal): [my favourite things never stick, unless they're food...so I'm going to pick the name of my fave yarn colour for the day and an animal I really like] Lettuce Monkey
YOUR SOAP OPERA NAME: (middle name, city where you were born): Louise Calgary <--- lame
YOUR STAR WARS NAME: (the first 3 letters of your last name, first 2 letters of your first name, first 2 letters of mom's maiden name and first 3 letters of the town you grew up in.): Arcstpiacal <--- that defies so many phonological rules of English, I just don't know
SUPERHERO NAME: ("The", your favorite color, favorite drink): The Green Water
NASCAR NAME: (the first name of both your grandfathers): This is not going to sound Nascar ---> Ludwick Harold
FUTURISTIC NAME: ( the name of your favorite perfume/cologne and the name of your favorite shoes): [currently my fave scent is a mixture of cedar, basil, and lavendar oils and my fave shoes have been worn so much that the brandname is unreadable...so...] Cedar Basil Lavendar Winners -or- CBL Winners
WITNESS PROTECTION NAME: (mother/father's middle name ) Antonina Roy
Well..that was fun. Back to reading.
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Academic Girls don't notice when you get your hair cut.
Actually, that's not true. Academic girls in my field don't notice when you get your hair cut. My MGIS academic girl did...but she's finished, so maybe that's why she's able to see trivial stuff again. ha.
I did it. One week of my MA and I finally feel like I'm okay. No more panic attacks, just a little, 'oh my god, can I do this?' but right now, I'm either delusional, or I'm feeling pretty good. Of course, there's not much homework this weekend, so we can take that into account.
All the people I am sharing this grad school experience are great, it seems. I am also lucky enough to have one PhD that I've completely clicked with and hung out with all summer...she is lovely. Another PhD student is a girl I did my undergrad with; it's nice to talk about the olden days with her because I remained in contact with none of the BA people. The new PhD is also very sweet. As for the MAs, I know one from last year and quite like her and the other two are very cool people. Yes...if you've been doing the math, the linguistics grad students total to 7. Small, but adventageous for us. I won't be freaked out talking in class or presenting my papers with only 4 or 5 people in the room.
I've spent much of last week and part of this week feeling as though I was submerged and the top of the water was about 5 inches over my head. In my first class, my prof was going to as all four of us where our intrests lie so he could tailor the course to meet our needs. Suddenly, I was gripped in panic. What was I interested in? How could I answer that question? What if I say something stupid? I don't know what I"m interested.....wait...uh...yes I do. I know exactly what I'm interested in. Wait! I can answer this question intelligently!! Hurrah! I AM GRAD STUDENT!
Then I stood up on the table and thumped my chest. For good measure.
Okay, I didn't, but it almost made me giggle out loud when I felt the panic rising and subsiding so quickly.
I did it. One week of my MA and I finally feel like I'm okay. No more panic attacks, just a little, 'oh my god, can I do this?' but right now, I'm either delusional, or I'm feeling pretty good. Of course, there's not much homework this weekend, so we can take that into account.
All the people I am sharing this grad school experience are great, it seems. I am also lucky enough to have one PhD that I've completely clicked with and hung out with all summer...she is lovely. Another PhD student is a girl I did my undergrad with; it's nice to talk about the olden days with her because I remained in contact with none of the BA people. The new PhD is also very sweet. As for the MAs, I know one from last year and quite like her and the other two are very cool people. Yes...if you've been doing the math, the linguistics grad students total to 7. Small, but adventageous for us. I won't be freaked out talking in class or presenting my papers with only 4 or 5 people in the room.
I've spent much of last week and part of this week feeling as though I was submerged and the top of the water was about 5 inches over my head. In my first class, my prof was going to as all four of us where our intrests lie so he could tailor the course to meet our needs. Suddenly, I was gripped in panic. What was I interested in? How could I answer that question? What if I say something stupid? I don't know what I"m interested.....wait...uh...yes I do. I know exactly what I'm interested in. Wait! I can answer this question intelligently!! Hurrah! I AM GRAD STUDENT!
Then I stood up on the table and thumped my chest. For good measure.
Okay, I didn't, but it almost made me giggle out loud when I felt the panic rising and subsiding so quickly.
Thursday, September 07, 2006
I'm just chillin'...like Bob Dylan
I know these things are a lame excuse for a post, but I've had a hard couple of days and feel like it:
(I'm sorry...I don't remember where I got this)
My Autobiography (meme)
Fill this out in your own words and repost as, "My autobiography."
1.Where did you take or get your profile picture?
On a site for Chinese propagand art. I just love that stuff...especially the space babies. Like these.
2.What exactly are you wearing right now?
*looking down*...working from the bottom up: slippers, an old cotton light blue plaid skirt, a light blue long sleeve tee, and this stupid head band I knitted that I love, but is -frankly- ugly.
3.What is your current problem?
YOU!
naw...but, you know, if I start tellin', I might not stop. I've had a rouuugh day.
4.What makes you most happy?
good things. Especially if I do 'em.
5.What's the name of the song that you're listening to?
The theme music to the Alliance capitol of Stormwind. Okay, not right now I'm not, but that's the last song I listened to. Except perhaps the faint music coming up from the restaurant below, but I have no idea what song that is.
6.Has anyone you've been really close with passed away?
No...*knocking wood*. That shit gives me cold sweats.
7.Do you ever watch MTV?
No TV takes care of that question.
8.What's something that really annoys you?
When I can't do what I want (if I think it's reasonable).
Chapter 1:All About You
1.Middle name:
Louise
2.Nickname(s):
Lot's of 'em. Bf (and some of his friends) call me Kitten. Father calls me PooHead.
3.Current location:
Mayhem
4.Eye color:
White, blue, black
Chapter 2:Family
1.Do you live with your parents:
I wish. Well, no I don't, but it would be easier.
2.Do you get along with your parent(s):
Yup, both of 'em. I probably call both of them more often than I do any of my friends. Wow, that sounds lame when you type it out.
3.Are your parents married/separated/divorced:
Divorced. And how!
4.Do you have any Siblings?:
Does imaginary count? My mum wants to adopt this kid in Peru...
Chapter 3: favorite...
1. Ice Cream:
For C's b-day, we went to My Favourite Ice Cream Shop and had sundaes. I got chocolate and vanilla ice cream with all the toppin's and I've not been able to stop thinking about it since.
2.Season:
Summer and Fall
3.Shampoo/conditioner:
Aveda....very recently made the switch. I don't know if I can go back to the cheap Mane & Tail crap.
Chapter 4: Do You..
1.Dance in the shower:
Yes. Oh, I thought you said pee. Dance, no. What? With these two left feet? I'd be calling an ambulance!
2.Write on your hand:
Boy howdy! Do I? Black Mana calls my hand my 'dayplanner'. If it's something I have to remember in a few days, I write it in indelible ink!
3.Call people back:
I want to discuss this for a sec. I swear I have phone anxiety and it is so difficult for me sometimes to call people back. I really really try...but I'm SO bad at it. I am, however, an email queen.
4.Believe in love:
Yeah...duh. But it comes in many forms.
5.Sleep on a certain side of the bed
Not really. Whichever side is up for grabs. C needs to sleep on a certain side of the bed!
6. Any bad habits:
Really...we don't have all day to list my bad and disgusting habits.
7. Any mental health issues?
You tell me.
Chapter 5: Have You...
1.Broken a bone:
Fractured, yes. Broken, no.
2.Sprained stuff:
Not seriously. Like, I've never gone to a dr for it.
3.Had physical therapy?:
Nah.
4.Gotten stitches:
No. I'm starting to think I was raised in a padded cell. Oh..wait...do after surgery stitches count?
5.Taken Pain killers?
Recreationally? Or for real?
6.Gone SCUBA diving or snorkeling:
Ha...funny story. But no.
7.Been stung by a bee:
Yeah...once when I was a kid, we had a bees nest in the wall of our house and bees were getting into our basement, so I took it upon myself to remove them because I was a total insect loving kid (meaning, loving to dismember them in the name of science) so every day for a few weeks I would catch the bees and let them outside (I think I was too scared to get close enough to kill them). Anyway...one day I forgot they could sting and grabbed one with my fingers. Pride before the fall. The End.
8.Thrown up at the dentist:
No. Thrown stuff at a dentist.....no, that neither.
9.Sworn in front of your parents:
I'm counting the really bad words as swearing. Probably I've slipped up in front of my mother, but I really really try not to. My dad, I can swear but I can only say the f-word and related items when I'm quoting someone or I'm really really upset.
10.Had detention:
I think only once...but not after school detention. We used to have a friday afternoon movie thing at our school. You couldn't go if your name was put into, what they called, 'the black book' that week. I only got my name in the black book once in all of elementary and that wasn't my fault. Mrs. Pelzner (sp?) was a mean bitch.
I did, however, get myself banned from the home ec. room in grade 9. There is something ironic there that I'm not able to tease out yet.
11.Been sent to the principal's office:
Nah. I was really good. Oh wait...in high school, I think I got sent to the VP office.
12.Been called a ho?
Umm...I don't know people who use the word 'ho' that regularly. Maybe I have. I'm sure I've been called a lot of things.
Chapter 6: Who/What was the last
1.Movie(s):
Rocky Horror Picture Show...see previous posts for that little disaster story.
2.Person to text you:
Black Mana. His last text ended with the words, "...I fill the room with laughter and crap." hehehehe...that still breaks me up.
3.Person you called:
My father.
4.Person you hugged:
C...then I tried to give him a wedgie.
5.Person you tackled?
Tickled or tackled? My grandmother...both things.
6.Thing you touched:
keyboard. Before that, mouse. Before that, my face.
7.Thing you ate:
A comfort salad. However, I was so stressed when I ate it that I felt sick afterwards.
8.Thing you drank:
water. I'm thirsty now.
9.Thing you said:
*coming back from kitchen*..."Aaaahhhhhh"
10.Friend you miss the most that has moved:
Oh man...really, it's a toss up between Ivana, Black Mana, and Anita. But I miss all my friends that have moved.
(I'm sorry...I don't remember where I got this)
My Autobiography (meme)
Fill this out in your own words and repost as, "My autobiography."
1.Where did you take or get your profile picture?
On a site for Chinese propagand art. I just love that stuff...especially the space babies. Like these.
2.What exactly are you wearing right now?
*looking down*...working from the bottom up: slippers, an old cotton light blue plaid skirt, a light blue long sleeve tee, and this stupid head band I knitted that I love, but is -frankly- ugly.
3.What is your current problem?
YOU!
naw...but, you know, if I start tellin', I might not stop. I've had a rouuugh day.
4.What makes you most happy?
good things. Especially if I do 'em.
5.What's the name of the song that you're listening to?
The theme music to the Alliance capitol of Stormwind. Okay, not right now I'm not, but that's the last song I listened to. Except perhaps the faint music coming up from the restaurant below, but I have no idea what song that is.
6.Has anyone you've been really close with passed away?
No...*knocking wood*. That shit gives me cold sweats.
7.Do you ever watch MTV?
No TV takes care of that question.
8.What's something that really annoys you?
When I can't do what I want (if I think it's reasonable).
Chapter 1:All About You
1.Middle name:
Louise
2.Nickname(s):
Lot's of 'em. Bf (and some of his friends) call me Kitten. Father calls me PooHead.
3.Current location:
Mayhem
4.Eye color:
White, blue, black
Chapter 2:Family
1.Do you live with your parents:
I wish. Well, no I don't, but it would be easier.
2.Do you get along with your parent(s):
Yup, both of 'em. I probably call both of them more often than I do any of my friends. Wow, that sounds lame when you type it out.
3.Are your parents married/separated/divorced:
Divorced. And how!
4.Do you have any Siblings?:
Does imaginary count? My mum wants to adopt this kid in Peru...
Chapter 3: favorite...
1. Ice Cream:
For C's b-day, we went to My Favourite Ice Cream Shop and had sundaes. I got chocolate and vanilla ice cream with all the toppin's and I've not been able to stop thinking about it since.
2.Season:
Summer and Fall
3.Shampoo/conditioner:
Aveda....very recently made the switch. I don't know if I can go back to the cheap Mane & Tail crap.
Chapter 4: Do You..
1.Dance in the shower:
Yes. Oh, I thought you said pee. Dance, no. What? With these two left feet? I'd be calling an ambulance!
2.Write on your hand:
Boy howdy! Do I? Black Mana calls my hand my 'dayplanner'. If it's something I have to remember in a few days, I write it in indelible ink!
3.Call people back:
I want to discuss this for a sec. I swear I have phone anxiety and it is so difficult for me sometimes to call people back. I really really try...but I'm SO bad at it. I am, however, an email queen.
4.Believe in love:
Yeah...duh. But it comes in many forms.
5.Sleep on a certain side of the bed
Not really. Whichever side is up for grabs. C needs to sleep on a certain side of the bed!
6. Any bad habits:
Really...we don't have all day to list my bad and disgusting habits.
7. Any mental health issues?
You tell me.
Chapter 5: Have You...
1.Broken a bone:
Fractured, yes. Broken, no.
2.Sprained stuff:
Not seriously. Like, I've never gone to a dr for it.
3.Had physical therapy?:
Nah.
4.Gotten stitches:
No. I'm starting to think I was raised in a padded cell. Oh..wait...do after surgery stitches count?
5.Taken Pain killers?
Recreationally? Or for real?
6.Gone SCUBA diving or snorkeling:
Ha...funny story. But no.
7.Been stung by a bee:
Yeah...once when I was a kid, we had a bees nest in the wall of our house and bees were getting into our basement, so I took it upon myself to remove them because I was a total insect loving kid (meaning, loving to dismember them in the name of science) so every day for a few weeks I would catch the bees and let them outside (I think I was too scared to get close enough to kill them). Anyway...one day I forgot they could sting and grabbed one with my fingers. Pride before the fall. The End.
8.Thrown up at the dentist:
No. Thrown stuff at a dentist.....no, that neither.
9.Sworn in front of your parents:
I'm counting the really bad words as swearing. Probably I've slipped up in front of my mother, but I really really try not to. My dad, I can swear but I can only say the f-word and related items when I'm quoting someone or I'm really really upset.
10.Had detention:
I think only once...but not after school detention. We used to have a friday afternoon movie thing at our school. You couldn't go if your name was put into, what they called, 'the black book' that week. I only got my name in the black book once in all of elementary and that wasn't my fault. Mrs. Pelzner (sp?) was a mean bitch.
I did, however, get myself banned from the home ec. room in grade 9. There is something ironic there that I'm not able to tease out yet.
11.Been sent to the principal's office:
Nah. I was really good. Oh wait...in high school, I think I got sent to the VP office.
12.Been called a ho?
Umm...I don't know people who use the word 'ho' that regularly. Maybe I have. I'm sure I've been called a lot of things.
Chapter 6: Who/What was the last
1.Movie(s):
Rocky Horror Picture Show...see previous posts for that little disaster story.
2.Person to text you:
Black Mana. His last text ended with the words, "...I fill the room with laughter and crap." hehehehe...that still breaks me up.
3.Person you called:
My father.
4.Person you hugged:
C...then I tried to give him a wedgie.
5.Person you tackled?
Tickled or tackled? My grandmother...both things.
6.Thing you touched:
keyboard. Before that, mouse. Before that, my face.
7.Thing you ate:
A comfort salad. However, I was so stressed when I ate it that I felt sick afterwards.
8.Thing you drank:
water. I'm thirsty now.
9.Thing you said:
*coming back from kitchen*..."Aaaahhhhhh"
10.Friend you miss the most that has moved:
Oh man...really, it's a toss up between Ivana, Black Mana, and Anita. But I miss all my friends that have moved.
Tuesday, September 05, 2006
misc.
So.
Here I am. It's 10:03 on a 'work day' and I'm not at work. Though I am not 'unemployed' in the complete sense, I am 'unemployed' in the more than partial sense of the word. Friday was the last day of receiving those types of cheques where you can throw a little into savings, throw a little at some debt, pay bills, buy those things that are essential and then use the rest for buying those things that are not essential.
what have I done?
Actually, even though I kept waking up this morning and thinking to myself, 'do I get up? no, I have nowhere to go. But I should still get up. But I don't have to....' and on and on until I finally did get up and was dressed before C had left for work, I'm not really that freaked out. I guess planning this since 2004 kinda takes the edge off.
It's still weird, though.
If you read my comments in the last post, you pretty much by now know why Sunday night was a freakout. All things worked out at the end, but I armed myself with a full watergun when people left the theatre lest someone mention the shitty projection that night. It sat in my lap in full view of everyone who passed on their way out. A defiant look sat on my face.
no it didn't. The look, that is. I was smiling. But the water pistol indeed was there and I was ready to use it.
It occurs to me now how surreal it must've looked to have my collegue Phil and I hastily dismantling our trusty FP30 projector bathed in sweat from the heat and panic with me in jeans and a t-shirt and Phil in fishnets and a corset. I adore absurdity and I'm gloriously happy that absurdity seems to like me just fine. It at least likes to spend time with me occasionally.
Anyway...what now? I've taken a 2 1/2 week break from reading and now I've got to get back on it. School starts on Monday and all things are cool. I think I was successful in getting those ducks in rows and training them to guard the shit in piles.
Shout out to the main man Dan who managed to get himself out of this fair city and a good few kilometers into his new adventure! Happy trails, my friend. Good thing you were gone 'cause it could have been you that was on the receiving end of a panicked phonecall at 12:30 am!
Here I am. It's 10:03 on a 'work day' and I'm not at work. Though I am not 'unemployed' in the complete sense, I am 'unemployed' in the more than partial sense of the word. Friday was the last day of receiving those types of cheques where you can throw a little into savings, throw a little at some debt, pay bills, buy those things that are essential and then use the rest for buying those things that are not essential.
what have I done?
Actually, even though I kept waking up this morning and thinking to myself, 'do I get up? no, I have nowhere to go. But I should still get up. But I don't have to....' and on and on until I finally did get up and was dressed before C had left for work, I'm not really that freaked out. I guess planning this since 2004 kinda takes the edge off.
It's still weird, though.
If you read my comments in the last post, you pretty much by now know why Sunday night was a freakout. All things worked out at the end, but I armed myself with a full watergun when people left the theatre lest someone mention the shitty projection that night. It sat in my lap in full view of everyone who passed on their way out. A defiant look sat on my face.
no it didn't. The look, that is. I was smiling. But the water pistol indeed was there and I was ready to use it.
It occurs to me now how surreal it must've looked to have my collegue Phil and I hastily dismantling our trusty FP30 projector bathed in sweat from the heat and panic with me in jeans and a t-shirt and Phil in fishnets and a corset. I adore absurdity and I'm gloriously happy that absurdity seems to like me just fine. It at least likes to spend time with me occasionally.
Anyway...what now? I've taken a 2 1/2 week break from reading and now I've got to get back on it. School starts on Monday and all things are cool. I think I was successful in getting those ducks in rows and training them to guard the shit in piles.
Shout out to the main man Dan who managed to get himself out of this fair city and a good few kilometers into his new adventure! Happy trails, my friend. Good thing you were gone 'cause it could have been you that was on the receiving end of a panicked phonecall at 12:30 am!
Monday, September 04, 2006
"You only just press a button, really...how hard can it be?"
After a night like tonight...
.
.
.
in fact, a summer like this summer
.
.
.
....anyone who says the above quote -or a moderation thereof- to any projectionist (and I've heard a few myself)...I hearby tell you to go soak your head and suck a dozen eggs.
.
.
.
in fact, a summer like this summer
.
.
.
....anyone who says the above quote -or a moderation thereof- to any projectionist (and I've heard a few myself)...I hearby tell you to go soak your head and suck a dozen eggs.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Goodnight Moon...
Today I got my nightguard. This little baby and me are gonna see if we can't stop me grinding my teeth so durn much.
I was all excited 'cause I won't be grinding my teeth so durn much (as mentioned above)...so my headaches might go away...and my teeth won't be so sensitive...and my jaw joints will stop deteriorating...so I'll be happier...
and I thought that I would look like my friends who have these sorts of things. They pop them in and they look cute as little buttons. Their mouths protrude just enough so you can tell it's not usual for them, and they have these little lisps and you just want to pinch their cheeks and kiss their foreheads.
How disapointing...
I just look like a dork.
I was all excited 'cause I won't be grinding my teeth so durn much (as mentioned above)...so my headaches might go away...and my teeth won't be so sensitive...and my jaw joints will stop deteriorating...so I'll be happier...
and I thought that I would look like my friends who have these sorts of things. They pop them in and they look cute as little buttons. Their mouths protrude just enough so you can tell it's not usual for them, and they have these little lisps and you just want to pinch their cheeks and kiss their foreheads.
How disapointing...
I just look like a dork.
Get out! The calls are coming from inside the house!!
The masking tape splicer I talked about not so long ago?
yeah...I know who it is.
I'm devastated.
yeah...I know who it is.
I'm devastated.
Friday, August 25, 2006
merkley???
Merkley??? is funny.
Merkley??? is hella stylish.
Merkley??? is a fantastic photographer.
and Merkley???, like me, hates to get punched in the arm pretty hard by people who he doesn't recognize.
Merkley??? is a complete stranger, by the way, but he's allowed me to link his lovely post.
Merkley??? made me feel better about all the people I a/ forget I know and b/ don't bother to get to know.
Merkley??? is hella stylish.
Merkley??? is a fantastic photographer.
and Merkley???, like me, hates to get punched in the arm pretty hard by people who he doesn't recognize.
Merkley??? is a complete stranger, by the way, but he's allowed me to link his lovely post.
Merkley??? made me feel better about all the people I a/ forget I know and b/ don't bother to get to know.
united in our fight against bad film handling
Everyone...
...all, like, 3 or so of you....
....meet my friend Dan. He, too, is a projector worker and film fixer. Actually, he's a projector fixer, too. In fact, he and I were associates/colleagues/comrades at the same theatre and barely ever saw each other. Now, he's put on his travelin' shoes and is off to new ventures of the French-speaking sort and ironically, I've gotten to know this cool cat better...through the magic of blogging. Isn't technology wonderful?
If you go now, you get to see his tooth.
...all, like, 3 or so of you....
....meet my friend Dan. He, too, is a projector worker and film fixer. Actually, he's a projector fixer, too. In fact, he and I were associates/colleagues/comrades at the same theatre and barely ever saw each other. Now, he's put on his travelin' shoes and is off to new ventures of the French-speaking sort and ironically, I've gotten to know this cool cat better...through the magic of blogging. Isn't technology wonderful?
If you go now, you get to see his tooth.
Eggs are revolting!
Wait...that should read:
The Eggheads Are Revolting!
First, there was this:
"Astronomers are gathering in the Czech capital, Prague, hoping to define exactly what counts as a planet." Essentially, Pluto has always been a bit of a question mark because of it's size, distance, and eliptical orbit. Plus, it's similar in shape to the skulls of those who found it in 1930. Eggy. This causes said orbit.
Ironically, in other news, it is Goofy, not Pluto, who's status as a dog is under scrutiny. Pluto remains very acceptable as he is 4-legged and doesn't talk.
The relatively recent discovery of celestial bodies that are just as planet-esque as Pluto have caused the scientists to venture into figuring this out once and for all. If Pluto is a planet so are at least 3 other objects in orbit around our sun and this is gonna cause one helluva headache for elementary teachers worldwide either way.
Then...this happened:
Pluto loses status as a planet. Ah...awww....crap. The astonomers in Prague make up guidelines and in order to be a planet in our solar system, one must:
- orbit around the sun
- be large enough that you take on a nearly round shape
- clear your orbit of other objects
Dang it! My aunt almost gained status as a planet!
So...Pluto is no longer a 'planet'. I'm a Scorpio. I believe that Pluto is my ruling planet. This may be the reason I've been feeling so tired lately. I am going to check into it.
However...all is not lost (and I feel slightly perkier today):
Pluto vote 'hijacked' in revolt.
Huzzah! Hear that clanging??? That's the cavalry...it's difficult to carry telescopes on horseback.
Apparently there was some shenanigans that allowed bad science to prevail. Firstly, most of the astronomers went home by the time the Pluto vote took place, henceforth one word 'Plutovote'. Also, the Plutovote that ~did~ take place was located in a very secret cavern underneath the ocean found only by piecing together clues...and everyone knows that's no place for astonomers. Only wild haired chemists and physicists work there...and usually alone or in very very tight groups.
So...what will be the fate of our most beloved, if not chilly, planet/non-planet/dwarf planet/dog? Well, the dog's gonna be fine (though remain totally lame), but the planet? Stay tuned.
The Eggheads Are Revolting!
First, there was this:
"Astronomers are gathering in the Czech capital, Prague, hoping to define exactly what counts as a planet." Essentially, Pluto has always been a bit of a question mark because of it's size, distance, and eliptical orbit. Plus, it's similar in shape to the skulls of those who found it in 1930. Eggy. This causes said orbit.
Ironically, in other news, it is Goofy, not Pluto, who's status as a dog is under scrutiny. Pluto remains very acceptable as he is 4-legged and doesn't talk.
The relatively recent discovery of celestial bodies that are just as planet-esque as Pluto have caused the scientists to venture into figuring this out once and for all. If Pluto is a planet so are at least 3 other objects in orbit around our sun and this is gonna cause one helluva headache for elementary teachers worldwide either way.
Then...this happened:
Pluto loses status as a planet. Ah...awww....crap. The astonomers in Prague make up guidelines and in order to be a planet in our solar system, one must:
- orbit around the sun
- be large enough that you take on a nearly round shape
- clear your orbit of other objects
Dang it! My aunt almost gained status as a planet!
So...Pluto is no longer a 'planet'. I'm a Scorpio. I believe that Pluto is my ruling planet. This may be the reason I've been feeling so tired lately. I am going to check into it.
However...all is not lost (and I feel slightly perkier today):
Pluto vote 'hijacked' in revolt.
Huzzah! Hear that clanging??? That's the cavalry...it's difficult to carry telescopes on horseback.
Apparently there was some shenanigans that allowed bad science to prevail. Firstly, most of the astronomers went home by the time the Pluto vote took place, henceforth one word 'Plutovote'. Also, the Plutovote that ~did~ take place was located in a very secret cavern underneath the ocean found only by piecing together clues...and everyone knows that's no place for astonomers. Only wild haired chemists and physicists work there...and usually alone or in very very tight groups.
So...what will be the fate of our most beloved, if not chilly, planet/non-planet/dwarf planet/dog? Well, the dog's gonna be fine (though remain totally lame), but the planet? Stay tuned.
98 lb weakling
Yesterday, when walking home from work, I found myself directly behind a couple...the male of which was wearing something very closely resembling a kevlar vest.
now...this kid was all of 115 lbs soaking wet and recently weened from his mother's breast...apparently to latch directly on to his white-trashy gf's.
I am ashamed to report that I did not have the courage to ask him something that had been plaguing me the entire time I followed them:
"Excuse me...is that vest 'fashion' or would it be prudent for me to distance myself as you apparently live a life of constant danger?"
I've been kicking myself since.
now...this kid was all of 115 lbs soaking wet and recently weened from his mother's breast...apparently to latch directly on to his white-trashy gf's.
I am ashamed to report that I did not have the courage to ask him something that had been plaguing me the entire time I followed them:
"Excuse me...is that vest 'fashion' or would it be prudent for me to distance myself as you apparently live a life of constant danger?"
I've been kicking myself since.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
bzzz bzzz ptt ptt
It has finally happened.
My brother-comrade in Ah Pook's destruction has entered the blogosphere, and it's g-damn great to have him here.
If Flickr wasn't being such a bitch right now, I'd have one of his paintings from said blog displayed properly as an introduction, but it is, so I don't.
Love Letters to Maldoror (The misanthropic art of Rodney Gabrielson)
click on linky
My brother-comrade in Ah Pook's destruction has entered the blogosphere, and it's g-damn great to have him here.
If Flickr wasn't being such a bitch right now, I'd have one of his paintings from said blog displayed properly as an introduction, but it is, so I don't.
Love Letters to Maldoror (The misanthropic art of Rodney Gabrielson)
click on linky
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
The way I see it...
Sometimes you find yourself in a situation and that situation is so surreal and torturous that you have no choice but to sit there and take it because somewhere down the line you came to be in debt, karmic-ly (or cosmically) speaking, and those situations are meant for the universe to right itself.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
How can I believe in God when just last week I got my tongue caught in the roller of an electric typewriter?
- Woody Allen
I found this idea over here at a blog I've been checking out occassionally.
Essentially, the deal is to search through random quotes over in this in this pile, find 5 quotes that reflect who you are and/or what you believe and post 'em. Like this:
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." - Eleanor Roosevelt
"To be conscious that you are ignorant is a great step to knowledge." - Benjamin Disraeli
"Honest differences are often a healthy sign of progress." - Mahatma Gandhi
"When you feel in your gut what you are and then dynamically pursue it -don't back down and don't give up- then you're going to mystify a lot of folks." - Bob Dylan
"If you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything." - Mark Twain
"Understand that the right to choose your own path is a sacred privilege. Use it. Dwell in possiblity." - Oprah Winfrey
and, as an extra throw in because I think it's particularly relevant for our time:
"Thanks to TV and for the convenience of TV, you can only be one of two kinds of human beings, either a liberal or a conservative." - Kurt Vonnegut
...you might as well include the internet
I found this idea over here at a blog I've been checking out occassionally.
Essentially, the deal is to search through random quotes over in this in this pile, find 5 quotes that reflect who you are and/or what you believe and post 'em. Like this:
"No one can make you feel inferior without your consent." - Eleanor Roosevelt
"To be conscious that you are ignorant is a great step to knowledge." - Benjamin Disraeli
"Honest differences are often a healthy sign of progress." - Mahatma Gandhi
"When you feel in your gut what you are and then dynamically pursue it -don't back down and don't give up- then you're going to mystify a lot of folks." - Bob Dylan
"If you tell the truth you don't have to remember anything." - Mark Twain
"Understand that the right to choose your own path is a sacred privilege. Use it. Dwell in possiblity." - Oprah Winfrey
and, as an extra throw in because I think it's particularly relevant for our time:
"Thanks to TV and for the convenience of TV, you can only be one of two kinds of human beings, either a liberal or a conservative." - Kurt Vonnegut
...you might as well include the internet
Saturday, August 05, 2006
on building up films
Projectionists who use masking tape for splicing when they're breaking down films to ship out are, in my mind, complete animals.
...and I mutter that to myself every time I see it.
that's not to mention you out there who cut splices instead of peeling them off. Who raised you people??
...and I mutter that to myself every time I see it.
that's not to mention you out there who cut splices instead of peeling them off. Who raised you people??
Sunday, July 30, 2006
Reviews from the booth...Sophie Scholl
It's time again, children, for another 'review from the booth'...the column in which I -a projectionist at a small independant theatre- reviews for you - the breathlessly awaiting audience- films that come through. The twist is that I don't always get to watch the whole thing. Ha! Isn't that just the darndest?
What's special about today's edition is that I probably saw a combined time of one minute of the movie I played on Friday night: Sophie Scholl. The reasons had nothing to do with the actual movie...well, other than one of them is that the movie looks so serious and informative that I didn't want to watch it while working, I want to watch it when the theatre is someone else's responsibility so I can concentrate. Another reason is that I was having a shift of hell that day and the place (as I mentioned before) is not fully air conditioned (I am impressively stinky by the end of my shift, let me tell you) and...AND I ran to the theatre to be there early enough to build the film hours before I played it. That last one is no big deal, really, 'cept that I hadn't built a film for a long time, it was my first time on the new system and I ALWAYS get g-damn nervous.
And now for the review:
It looks good.
I realized on Friday that I can often tell how good a movie is by the body language and facial expressions of the audience that is filing out. If we have a sad/poignant film, if it's good there's a few tell tale signs:
a/ the more people who do not get up during the credits and instead opt to stay in their seats out of respect for the film they just experienced and also to allow themselves time to get ahold of themselves...the better the movie.
b/ people who leave the theatre have a few different ways of dealing with re-entering the current and real world. Some people will stare straight ahead and wander out on their own accord. These people do not want you to ask how the movie was...they don't even want to make eye contact. Others need to talk to you. They need to discuss their thoughts and feelings.
All this is not unlike the reaction to a small real tragedy. In a good movie, THAT'S what you're looking for.
For Sophie Scholl...THAT'S what you're looking for.
Sophie Scholl...and remember, I haven't seen it. Is essentially the biography of the last 6 days in the live of a woman who was part of an underground resistance movement with views to overthrow the Nazi regime.
So..as you can see, when I watch a group of people exiting the theatre as though they've just been part of some sort of train wreck, I'm relatively assured that it is money well spent.
What's special about today's edition is that I probably saw a combined time of one minute of the movie I played on Friday night: Sophie Scholl. The reasons had nothing to do with the actual movie...well, other than one of them is that the movie looks so serious and informative that I didn't want to watch it while working, I want to watch it when the theatre is someone else's responsibility so I can concentrate. Another reason is that I was having a shift of hell that day and the place (as I mentioned before) is not fully air conditioned (I am impressively stinky by the end of my shift, let me tell you) and...AND I ran to the theatre to be there early enough to build the film hours before I played it. That last one is no big deal, really, 'cept that I hadn't built a film for a long time, it was my first time on the new system and I ALWAYS get g-damn nervous.
And now for the review:
It looks good.
I realized on Friday that I can often tell how good a movie is by the body language and facial expressions of the audience that is filing out. If we have a sad/poignant film, if it's good there's a few tell tale signs:
a/ the more people who do not get up during the credits and instead opt to stay in their seats out of respect for the film they just experienced and also to allow themselves time to get ahold of themselves...the better the movie.
b/ people who leave the theatre have a few different ways of dealing with re-entering the current and real world. Some people will stare straight ahead and wander out on their own accord. These people do not want you to ask how the movie was...they don't even want to make eye contact. Others need to talk to you. They need to discuss their thoughts and feelings.
All this is not unlike the reaction to a small real tragedy. In a good movie, THAT'S what you're looking for.
For Sophie Scholl...THAT'S what you're looking for.
Sophie Scholl...and remember, I haven't seen it. Is essentially the biography of the last 6 days in the live of a woman who was part of an underground resistance movement with views to overthrow the Nazi regime.
So..as you can see, when I watch a group of people exiting the theatre as though they've just been part of some sort of train wreck, I'm relatively assured that it is money well spent.
Saturday, July 22, 2006
Sunday, July 16, 2006
"They're equal now, so why don't they shut up?"
I've heard that spoken. Recently. More than once. About women. In different words.
To be honest, I'm not prepared to go into a feminist (and pro-male, too) rant about inequality between the genders. It's something I feel and can discuss when I'm with someone on my same page, but am not equipped yet to write about it at any length.
You see...I've gone through a feministic renewal. As one ought to in one's life one undergoes many metamorphoses and I have undergone one recently (or rather, am currently undergoing one). So, as it is often the case in these situations, I'm unable to coherently discuss said ch-ch-ch-changes (Bowie).
It would be difficult to make sense of it on paper/keyboard & monitor right now. Much like the linguistics post I keep working on and I'm not happy with.
Anyway...the point of all this yibber yabber is that I read this and I think she (The Hot Librarian) expresses herself beautifully.
To be honest, I'm not prepared to go into a feminist (and pro-male, too) rant about inequality between the genders. It's something I feel and can discuss when I'm with someone on my same page, but am not equipped yet to write about it at any length.
You see...I've gone through a feministic renewal. As one ought to in one's life one undergoes many metamorphoses and I have undergone one recently (or rather, am currently undergoing one). So, as it is often the case in these situations, I'm unable to coherently discuss said ch-ch-ch-changes (Bowie).
It would be difficult to make sense of it on paper/keyboard & monitor right now. Much like the linguistics post I keep working on and I'm not happy with.
Anyway...the point of all this yibber yabber is that I read this and I think she (The Hot Librarian) expresses herself beautifully.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Farmer's market highs and lows
I am currently having a love affair with the smoothie I just made out of the fruit I just bought at the farmer's market about 2 hours ago. Mango, cherry and strawberry...I am at the mercy of these ingredients.
They are also comforting me at my time of need since the wool lady I visit weekly (although she never remembers me...or at least she doesn't let on) has disappeared...gone. My heart started beating faster and my palms got sweaty as I searched all the other stalls in case she moved like a distraught mother looking for her child who's wandered too far away. Nothing. Just vegetables where once lay the brightly coloured, hand dyed, hand spun yarns I would dream about through the week.
Fuck.
They are also comforting me at my time of need since the wool lady I visit weekly (although she never remembers me...or at least she doesn't let on) has disappeared...gone. My heart started beating faster and my palms got sweaty as I searched all the other stalls in case she moved like a distraught mother looking for her child who's wandered too far away. Nothing. Just vegetables where once lay the brightly coloured, hand dyed, hand spun yarns I would dream about through the week.
Fuck.
Wednesday, July 12, 2006
some stuff
Now...
I thought that we did not pass judgement on others based on certain things. I thought that we did not pass judgement based on ethnicity, religion, gender,
-umm...personally, I think political leanings (as long as they aren't actively harmful) are in this list but of course we all pass judgement on those who's politics do not mesh with our own...however, although I think the coffee shop down the street ought to be perfectly able and allowed to post the sign "no anarchists" on their door...I just don't think it's particularly cool...anyway, where was I? -
, and/or sexual orientation...did I miss any? Oh yes..how could I forget as this is one of the points of this post. What one's country of origin...or residence...is. Which brings me to the unashamed bashing of Americans that I hear all the freaking time. It's not right. There is nothing wrong with Americans no matter what policies you disagree with. I think we've established in many other countries that the government is not the people....so why is it acceptable to bash Americans?
So, just because I'm Canadian, please do not think I will full heartly join you in your mindless bashing of foreigners...even if those foreigners happen to look and speak just like us. It's still not okay.
...and...with that in mind...just because I'm white does not mean that I will join in with your nods and winks when it comes to commenting on those of different colour. Strangers and acquaintances will make a comment on other ethnicities as if I got the white person newsletter and paid my white person dues so that I understand the white person talk. No. I do not accept your bigotry, even if I am white.
...and (thinking about the Stampede party I went to today where our recent acquirers met us (their newly acquirees) at the Palamino bar for an all afternoon eat/drink/boredom fest) just because I'm a girl and you're drunk does not mean you get to grab my arm and rub it as I'm making my way out the door. Or any time, for that matter. What is it with men and their uninvited touching?? None of my male friends who I spent the afternoon chatting with would have dreamed of grabbing my arm and rubbing it, so...Mr. Drunk and Dorky...why on earth did you think that it was a good idea? Besides, who goes to a work function to get laid?
...and...I need to admit that I am ashamed because of three events I just described to you (all of which occured today), none of the perpertrators received more than an akward pause and a change in subject. Well, the last guy got a icy look and a hasty exit...but the first two deserved much worse and I need to work on that.
I thought that we did not pass judgement on others based on certain things. I thought that we did not pass judgement based on ethnicity, religion, gender,
-umm...personally, I think political leanings (as long as they aren't actively harmful) are in this list but of course we all pass judgement on those who's politics do not mesh with our own...however, although I think the coffee shop down the street ought to be perfectly able and allowed to post the sign "no anarchists" on their door...I just don't think it's particularly cool...anyway, where was I? -
, and/or sexual orientation...did I miss any? Oh yes..how could I forget as this is one of the points of this post. What one's country of origin...or residence...is. Which brings me to the unashamed bashing of Americans that I hear all the freaking time. It's not right. There is nothing wrong with Americans no matter what policies you disagree with. I think we've established in many other countries that the government is not the people....so why is it acceptable to bash Americans?
So, just because I'm Canadian, please do not think I will full heartly join you in your mindless bashing of foreigners...even if those foreigners happen to look and speak just like us. It's still not okay.
...and...with that in mind...just because I'm white does not mean that I will join in with your nods and winks when it comes to commenting on those of different colour. Strangers and acquaintances will make a comment on other ethnicities as if I got the white person newsletter and paid my white person dues so that I understand the white person talk. No. I do not accept your bigotry, even if I am white.
...and (thinking about the Stampede party I went to today where our recent acquirers met us (their newly acquirees) at the Palamino bar for an all afternoon eat/drink/boredom fest) just because I'm a girl and you're drunk does not mean you get to grab my arm and rub it as I'm making my way out the door. Or any time, for that matter. What is it with men and their uninvited touching?? None of my male friends who I spent the afternoon chatting with would have dreamed of grabbing my arm and rubbing it, so...Mr. Drunk and Dorky...why on earth did you think that it was a good idea? Besides, who goes to a work function to get laid?
...and...I need to admit that I am ashamed because of three events I just described to you (all of which occured today), none of the perpertrators received more than an akward pause and a change in subject. Well, the last guy got a icy look and a hasty exit...but the first two deserved much worse and I need to work on that.
This just in...
...guy riding a horse down 4th St, barely holding on and slurring the words:
"...I don't drink and ride...no sir...I DON'T drink and ride..."
Sometimes I think there is a reason we stay here.
"...I don't drink and ride...no sir...I DON'T drink and ride..."
Sometimes I think there is a reason we stay here.
Thursday, June 29, 2006
Reviews from the booth
Been awhile since I've done this...
Been awhile since i've watched a movie at work...
Actually, it's still been awhile since I've not watched more than 15 seconds of this movie at any time...
My impression after 6 screenings and a few peeps through the door?
*gag*
lame.
ugh.
gross.
Let me tell you why.
Firstly, Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bollock.
Secondly, every freakin' time I poke my head into that theatre, I am repelled by what I see and cannot last longer than the 15 seconds mentioned earlier. Let's quickly examine this because I think it is relevant.
My theatre, by my city's standards, is old. Real old (again, by Calgary standards). The insulation has 'jumped the shark' many decades ago rendering it cold in the winter and reminiscent of Hades on days like the past two (both of which I've worked). The breath of Beelzebub himself flows forth from that projector some days.
The only air conditioned/fanned place in the building is inside the theatre in an effort to prevent our customers melting, evaporating and causing sudden thunderstorms while the film is running.
This all being true (and I swear to you it is)...don't you think I want to spend time inside the theatre instead of spreading my 'sitting time' evenly along the couch so that one side does not get sweat stained more than the other? G-damn I do! And Keanu is preventing me as much as if he was physically blocking the entrance.
Anyway...I see this:
Sandra Bullock crying beside her mailbox.
Keanu slowly walking through bushes.
Sandra and Keanu slowly dancing to Paul McCartney songs...
bleeech...ugh...please...no...
(and because of this movie, I've now got a serious bone to pick with Sir Paul as I wasn't aware of the crappy depths his writing could take)
Thirdly, you know when you're watching a tv show, or a movie...usually a comedy...and in it they are using a movie as whatever they need it for in the background? You know when you're meant to overhear whatever movie is playing they make it sound very typical to what ever genre it is supposed to be? Well, let me tell you something, Jack. Everytime that theatre door opens, that's what the movie sounds like. Strings and urgent conversation.
Not a big fan of the Lake House...
As a conversation with a couple went tonight as the late show was clearing out:
"Did you enjoy the film?"
"uh...no...not really"
"yeah...I haven't been tempted in the least. It seems far too sentimental and sappy for my tastes."
"why didn't you tell us this before?"
"I wanted your money before"
Been awhile since i've watched a movie at work...
Actually, it's still been awhile since I've not watched more than 15 seconds of this movie at any time...
My impression after 6 screenings and a few peeps through the door?
*gag*
lame.
ugh.
gross.
Let me tell you why.
Firstly, Keanu Reeves and Sandra Bollock.
Secondly, every freakin' time I poke my head into that theatre, I am repelled by what I see and cannot last longer than the 15 seconds mentioned earlier. Let's quickly examine this because I think it is relevant.
My theatre, by my city's standards, is old. Real old (again, by Calgary standards). The insulation has 'jumped the shark' many decades ago rendering it cold in the winter and reminiscent of Hades on days like the past two (both of which I've worked). The breath of Beelzebub himself flows forth from that projector some days.
The only air conditioned/fanned place in the building is inside the theatre in an effort to prevent our customers melting, evaporating and causing sudden thunderstorms while the film is running.
This all being true (and I swear to you it is)...don't you think I want to spend time inside the theatre instead of spreading my 'sitting time' evenly along the couch so that one side does not get sweat stained more than the other? G-damn I do! And Keanu is preventing me as much as if he was physically blocking the entrance.
Anyway...I see this:
Sandra Bullock crying beside her mailbox.
Keanu slowly walking through bushes.
Sandra and Keanu slowly dancing to Paul McCartney songs...
bleeech...ugh...please...no...
(and because of this movie, I've now got a serious bone to pick with Sir Paul as I wasn't aware of the crappy depths his writing could take)
Thirdly, you know when you're watching a tv show, or a movie...usually a comedy...and in it they are using a movie as whatever they need it for in the background? You know when you're meant to overhear whatever movie is playing they make it sound very typical to what ever genre it is supposed to be? Well, let me tell you something, Jack. Everytime that theatre door opens, that's what the movie sounds like. Strings and urgent conversation.
Not a big fan of the Lake House...
As a conversation with a couple went tonight as the late show was clearing out:
"Did you enjoy the film?"
"uh...no...not really"
"yeah...I haven't been tempted in the least. It seems far too sentimental and sappy for my tastes."
"why didn't you tell us this before?"
"I wanted your money before"
Friday, June 16, 2006
You are the wind beneath my wings...
I've been thinking about this lately and just recently became inspired to write...
One thing I've noticed since the Danish cartoon thing was huge...it seems to me that some people, in their way, insist that free speech/expression now includes not only saying what one will...but saying ANYTHING one can...just to prove they can. For instance, lets say...well...racist jokes and comments. One is, to some minds, now required to tell these jokes in defense of free speech. Without them, apparently, "the terrorists have won".
I say, in my defense of free speech, that one is allowed...even encouraged in some areas...to NOT say some things. Just because you can say something does not mean you have to march up to the mountaintop and scream it out for everyone to hear...and do so particularly if individuals or groups of individuals become offended because they have no business stomping all over your rights by being offended. It wrecks the fun.
Really...I am a strong proponent of free speech. So much so that I reserve the right to a/ not say things I don't want to, b/ differentiate between that which ought to be said in private and that should be said in public, and c/ feel free to tell other people what I think of what they just said (which, frankly, seems to me to be the most forgotten part).
About the Danish cartoons...
I was against the Western Standard's publication (publicity stunt) of them, but I did buy a copy of this month's Harper's magazine. The reason I was against one and for the other? Timing and context. The WS published these cartoons to rub noses in it and to make money. They capitialized on the timing by publishing this particular issue during the riots. And, a visit to the Shotgun Blog will show you that some of this magazine's readers and blog-commenters have no love for Islam or it's members and therefore little concern towards both sides of the issue. Harper's, on the other hand, published them much later...in fact, it's likely that most people had seen the cartoons by then. They invited that wonderful illustrator Art Spiegelman, the creator of Maus (which, if you haven't already read, you really ought to), to comment on the merit of each cartoon as a cartoon and rate the offensiveness of each. It was a truly interesting article.
What can I say? One had taste, the other didn't.
One thing I've noticed since the Danish cartoon thing was huge...it seems to me that some people, in their way, insist that free speech/expression now includes not only saying what one will...but saying ANYTHING one can...just to prove they can. For instance, lets say...well...racist jokes and comments. One is, to some minds, now required to tell these jokes in defense of free speech. Without them, apparently, "the terrorists have won".
I say, in my defense of free speech, that one is allowed...even encouraged in some areas...to NOT say some things. Just because you can say something does not mean you have to march up to the mountaintop and scream it out for everyone to hear...and do so particularly if individuals or groups of individuals become offended because they have no business stomping all over your rights by being offended. It wrecks the fun.
Really...I am a strong proponent of free speech. So much so that I reserve the right to a/ not say things I don't want to, b/ differentiate between that which ought to be said in private and that should be said in public, and c/ feel free to tell other people what I think of what they just said (which, frankly, seems to me to be the most forgotten part).
About the Danish cartoons...
I was against the Western Standard's publication (publicity stunt) of them, but I did buy a copy of this month's Harper's magazine. The reason I was against one and for the other? Timing and context. The WS published these cartoons to rub noses in it and to make money. They capitialized on the timing by publishing this particular issue during the riots. And, a visit to the Shotgun Blog will show you that some of this magazine's readers and blog-commenters have no love for Islam or it's members and therefore little concern towards both sides of the issue. Harper's, on the other hand, published them much later...in fact, it's likely that most people had seen the cartoons by then. They invited that wonderful illustrator Art Spiegelman, the creator of Maus (which, if you haven't already read, you really ought to), to comment on the merit of each cartoon as a cartoon and rate the offensiveness of each. It was a truly interesting article.
What can I say? One had taste, the other didn't.
Don't know how else to do this...
Kelly!!
I lost your email address...could you email me with it??
Thanks
I lost your email address...could you email me with it??
Thanks
Saturday, June 10, 2006
Without naming names
It's odd...
It wasn't until I started going to some blogs that I realized that people are still really upset by political correctness.
Now...I agree. It can go too far and everyone needs to chill out a bit. But we all realize why we use it, right? I mean, when we sort it all out at the end, it'll be a good thing, right? We agree on that, right?
...and I understand that the only way we're gonna sort it out (anything, really) is talking about it, airing our views and opinions, have a little back and forth, a little conflict...that sorta stuff...so shine on all you crazy diamonds.
However...has it ever occured to some of you that you're just not funny?
Really...if someone got offended because you used the n-word, or called a woman a slut, or made that joke about First Nations peoples, or continue to use the oh-so-tired phrase "Islamofascist"....maybe it's the delivery. Maybe you're not that funny. Maybe you're not catching on that those things are way behind the times and you are no longer cutting edge.
Assuming you were 'cutting edge' sometime in 1956.
And chances are you're not that funny if you're not able to sense comedic timing by using outdated material. And, for added measure (unless you're Stuart McLean or someone of his ilk, who is hilarious even if you spot the punchline 10 miles away) surprise is often a key element to comedy. If you look like you're going to make that same gay joke that everyone who looks like you makes, well...*yawn* and, 'maybe you shouldn't say that.'
Hell, I get offended when someone makes the joking reply, 'let's not go there' or some other catchphrase from a lame sitcom or reality show, because...Jesus...do you think I'm so inbred as to think you're clever retort is original? Or I have so little going on that I need to laugh at a joke I guessed you would make 10 minutes ago?
So...to conclude...if you're all fired up because no one laughed at your edgy and in-your-face comedy...maybe it's not political correctness you have to blame, maybe it's you.
It wasn't until I started going to some blogs that I realized that people are still really upset by political correctness.
Now...I agree. It can go too far and everyone needs to chill out a bit. But we all realize why we use it, right? I mean, when we sort it all out at the end, it'll be a good thing, right? We agree on that, right?
...and I understand that the only way we're gonna sort it out (anything, really) is talking about it, airing our views and opinions, have a little back and forth, a little conflict...that sorta stuff...so shine on all you crazy diamonds.
However...has it ever occured to some of you that you're just not funny?
Really...if someone got offended because you used the n-word, or called a woman a slut, or made that joke about First Nations peoples, or continue to use the oh-so-tired phrase "Islamofascist"....maybe it's the delivery. Maybe you're not that funny. Maybe you're not catching on that those things are way behind the times and you are no longer cutting edge.
Assuming you were 'cutting edge' sometime in 1956.
And chances are you're not that funny if you're not able to sense comedic timing by using outdated material. And, for added measure (unless you're Stuart McLean or someone of his ilk, who is hilarious even if you spot the punchline 10 miles away) surprise is often a key element to comedy. If you look like you're going to make that same gay joke that everyone who looks like you makes, well...*yawn* and, 'maybe you shouldn't say that.'
Hell, I get offended when someone makes the joking reply, 'let's not go there' or some other catchphrase from a lame sitcom or reality show, because...Jesus...do you think I'm so inbred as to think you're clever retort is original? Or I have so little going on that I need to laugh at a joke I guessed you would make 10 minutes ago?
So...to conclude...if you're all fired up because no one laughed at your edgy and in-your-face comedy...maybe it's not political correctness you have to blame, maybe it's you.
Friday, June 09, 2006
one of my all time favourites
I was helping, the other day, to evangelize Seanbaby to a group of people...so, to further my cause I beg that you read When Robots Attack.
Dear Seanbaby,
I hope you live forever.
Love, Himbly
Dear Seanbaby,
I hope you live forever.
Love, Himbly
Monday, June 05, 2006
Seriously
I just wrote a huge long post on linguistics, universals and why I don't think all Muslims are evil....but I've got to do some editing.
I encourage people to read this The Western Standard Shotgun Blog. In all honesty, it is blood chilling to say the least when some of these people write about Islam and the current fiasco that is our world situation. I honestly encourage you to take a look. I post occassionally, but they are so far away from my mode of thought it is hard to know how to reply, or what point to reply to.
But, it's always good to learn different viewpoints. If you can't concede to a certain sentiment, at least you know why.
I encourage people to read this The Western Standard Shotgun Blog. In all honesty, it is blood chilling to say the least when some of these people write about Islam and the current fiasco that is our world situation. I honestly encourage you to take a look. I post occassionally, but they are so far away from my mode of thought it is hard to know how to reply, or what point to reply to.
But, it's always good to learn different viewpoints. If you can't concede to a certain sentiment, at least you know why.
Well, it's about time...
I'd been meaning to link The Hot Librarian.
She's funny.
Go read.
I'll put her over here ------------->
She's funny.
Go read.
I'll put her over here ------------->
Friday, June 02, 2006
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
The boss of me
*cough cough*
Jesus
I just went for a run, still trying to shed those pounds from a fairly physically inactive winter, and my body let me know in no uncertain terms that it was upset with my choice of activity at that moment and that I ought to reconsider and immediately make my way home - at a much slower pace.
It gave me a blister, stomach cramps and an allergy to the pollen currently floating through our air in order to make it's point.
I did what it said. And I'm still wheezing.
Bitch.
Aside from all that, however, I had a fantastic day. I took a 'personal day' from work, got up at the same time I would if I were going but instead of work, I went to Nellie's for breakfast. A wonderful breakfast, I might add. Came home, did some knitting then spent the entire afternoon at the university meeting with profs.
Working downtown can be a drag. I walk past no less than 3 buildings that are half or fully torn down on my way down 4th st. It's grey, it's noisy, buses fly past at an alarmingly close proximity...
I arrived on campus today -for the first time since my last assignment was due- and it was beautiful...lush lawns, lilacs, students studying on warm patches of grass. I never thought of the UofC campus as a particularly attractive area, but with the warm and still-spring weather...it was like an effing oasis. I called my mum and asked her why I ever leave.
I attended my first, of what hopefully will be many, lab meetings at the Speech Development lab. My prof said I could come and watch the goings on. So cool. I loved it. Discussions on what will be done next, a PhD student presenting experiment proposals that were absolutely fascinating. Then I met with another prof who is helping me catch up on so much theory I've missed the past 8-9 years. I left feeling alive and excited again.
Then I ran...but I've covered that.
Been a long time since I've blogged. I've had some ideas and started writing some things, but it really doesn't work unless it comes organically, hey?
Lilac fest came and went. It's impossible for me to sit in my apartment when it's going on...not because I think it's exciting, it's not, but because when you've got one 'thing' going on outside one window and another 'thing' going on outside another window, you can go freaking batty. Stupid OJs woke me up with their stupid preparation for their stupid volleyball tournament, so I had a huge hate-on for them all day.
Every year, it seems, I run into probably the one ex-boyfriend that I...well...lets just say that I've had a hard time readjusting my view of the fairness and justness of a universe that allows someone like him to continue on in fairly good health and living in a way that does not cause him pain every day.
Holy crap...I just reread that. That's harsh. Ha! But continue on...
However...I think this time I've managed to stop my bile from rising. Let me say here that my feelings of revulsion every time I hear his name do not come from any feelings of loss. Oh no no no. I thank my lucky stars every day that he found someone he wanted to cheat on me with which called for the demise of our relationship (and I hope she thanks her lucky stars that he found someone to cheat on her causing their breakup...she's in a much better place now and I hope she knows it...she seems like a nice girl, she definitely deserves better). It was this breakup that signalled the beginning of a complete overhaul of my life...the aim being to get the hell away from people like him.
No...my reason for such a strong reaction was twofold. Firstly, I never really quite got over the humiliation of being with him. It's embarrassing the things I put up with and I can only point to my weakened state at the time as any sort of excuse for allowing him in my life. Secondly, and this is part of the lesson my time reexamining my life has taught me, bad people don't deserve kindness from me.
I know a whole lot of creeps. Creeps that at one time I felt the need to impress. Creeps that convinced me that some things were 'okay' when they were not.
Step one, get creeps out of life. Check. Step two, don't pretend that you approve of their behaviour or ideals by being kind. Check.
Step two actually has come quite naturally, as my story about flipping the bird to an old acquaintance in Safeway that I wrote about earlier and am too lazy to link to has shown. So when, as it seems I do every lilac fest, good ol' rockadorky walks by with his usual I-hope-we-can-one-day-be-friends half smile, it is quite a natural reaction for me to counter with my, what I now call, squeegie-kid-at-my-windshield look.
And for that look, go to the mirror and pretend that a squeegie kid has just started on your windshield while you were busy toying with the radio or fan or something. It's kinda like that defeated, unwelcoming, unhappy, faintly surprised, my-god-this-is-lame, how-akward look you get.
But you know what? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the new girl. Small, retronaught, young...and he just looked like an aging, pathetic, slightly closeted man. In the entire time I knew him, he never really had any sort of style or personality he could call his own...just a bunch of things he put together to make some people think he was cool.
I then realized that on the scale of honour it is better to be hated than pittied...so I pity him.
Anyway...that was far too much space dedicated to poor pitiable fartface, so we won't be discussing him anymore.
I think I'll go take a bath now....I love my new eucalyptus bubbles!
Jesus
I just went for a run, still trying to shed those pounds from a fairly physically inactive winter, and my body let me know in no uncertain terms that it was upset with my choice of activity at that moment and that I ought to reconsider and immediately make my way home - at a much slower pace.
It gave me a blister, stomach cramps and an allergy to the pollen currently floating through our air in order to make it's point.
I did what it said. And I'm still wheezing.
Bitch.
Aside from all that, however, I had a fantastic day. I took a 'personal day' from work, got up at the same time I would if I were going but instead of work, I went to Nellie's for breakfast. A wonderful breakfast, I might add. Came home, did some knitting then spent the entire afternoon at the university meeting with profs.
Working downtown can be a drag. I walk past no less than 3 buildings that are half or fully torn down on my way down 4th st. It's grey, it's noisy, buses fly past at an alarmingly close proximity...
I arrived on campus today -for the first time since my last assignment was due- and it was beautiful...lush lawns, lilacs, students studying on warm patches of grass. I never thought of the UofC campus as a particularly attractive area, but with the warm and still-spring weather...it was like an effing oasis. I called my mum and asked her why I ever leave.
I attended my first, of what hopefully will be many, lab meetings at the Speech Development lab. My prof said I could come and watch the goings on. So cool. I loved it. Discussions on what will be done next, a PhD student presenting experiment proposals that were absolutely fascinating. Then I met with another prof who is helping me catch up on so much theory I've missed the past 8-9 years. I left feeling alive and excited again.
Then I ran...but I've covered that.
Been a long time since I've blogged. I've had some ideas and started writing some things, but it really doesn't work unless it comes organically, hey?
Lilac fest came and went. It's impossible for me to sit in my apartment when it's going on...not because I think it's exciting, it's not, but because when you've got one 'thing' going on outside one window and another 'thing' going on outside another window, you can go freaking batty. Stupid OJs woke me up with their stupid preparation for their stupid volleyball tournament, so I had a huge hate-on for them all day.
Every year, it seems, I run into probably the one ex-boyfriend that I...well...lets just say that I've had a hard time readjusting my view of the fairness and justness of a universe that allows someone like him to continue on in fairly good health and living in a way that does not cause him pain every day.
Holy crap...I just reread that. That's harsh. Ha! But continue on...
However...I think this time I've managed to stop my bile from rising. Let me say here that my feelings of revulsion every time I hear his name do not come from any feelings of loss. Oh no no no. I thank my lucky stars every day that he found someone he wanted to cheat on me with which called for the demise of our relationship (and I hope she thanks her lucky stars that he found someone to cheat on her causing their breakup...she's in a much better place now and I hope she knows it...she seems like a nice girl, she definitely deserves better). It was this breakup that signalled the beginning of a complete overhaul of my life...the aim being to get the hell away from people like him.
No...my reason for such a strong reaction was twofold. Firstly, I never really quite got over the humiliation of being with him. It's embarrassing the things I put up with and I can only point to my weakened state at the time as any sort of excuse for allowing him in my life. Secondly, and this is part of the lesson my time reexamining my life has taught me, bad people don't deserve kindness from me.
I know a whole lot of creeps. Creeps that at one time I felt the need to impress. Creeps that convinced me that some things were 'okay' when they were not.
Step one, get creeps out of life. Check. Step two, don't pretend that you approve of their behaviour or ideals by being kind. Check.
Step two actually has come quite naturally, as my story about flipping the bird to an old acquaintance in Safeway that I wrote about earlier and am too lazy to link to has shown. So when, as it seems I do every lilac fest, good ol' rockadorky walks by with his usual I-hope-we-can-one-day-be-friends half smile, it is quite a natural reaction for me to counter with my, what I now call, squeegie-kid-at-my-windshield look.
And for that look, go to the mirror and pretend that a squeegie kid has just started on your windshield while you were busy toying with the radio or fan or something. It's kinda like that defeated, unwelcoming, unhappy, faintly surprised, my-god-this-is-lame, how-akward look you get.
But you know what? Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the new girl. Small, retronaught, young...and he just looked like an aging, pathetic, slightly closeted man. In the entire time I knew him, he never really had any sort of style or personality he could call his own...just a bunch of things he put together to make some people think he was cool.
I then realized that on the scale of honour it is better to be hated than pittied...so I pity him.
Anyway...that was far too much space dedicated to poor pitiable fartface, so we won't be discussing him anymore.
I think I'll go take a bath now....I love my new eucalyptus bubbles!
Sunday, May 21, 2006
A tip
I've been hearing how much pollen is in the air right now and that everyone's allergies are through the roof.
But not mine. And I'm the queen of the sniffle/sneeze/ichy eyes.
Not to say it's not affecting me at all...it is...it always does. But this year has been my best in many many years.
Seriously...stop eating sugar.
It helps.
Sugar...and I've said it before...is the sweet sweet devil and if you stop eating it, you will not have bad allergies this year.
There...I've said my piece.
g'night
But not mine. And I'm the queen of the sniffle/sneeze/ichy eyes.
Not to say it's not affecting me at all...it is...it always does. But this year has been my best in many many years.
Seriously...stop eating sugar.
It helps.
Sugar...and I've said it before...is the sweet sweet devil and if you stop eating it, you will not have bad allergies this year.
There...I've said my piece.
g'night
Monday, May 15, 2006
Holy Jesus Crap!
I did the Mother's Day run yesterday...and since I'm fucking hardcore I was like, 'dude, I'm TOTALLY doing the 10K run. None of this 5K shit for me, yo'.....completely ignoring the well established fact that I hadn't run for months. I only started running again (after months of not) the past 2 maybe 3 weeks.
I was wholly unprepared for the stubborness that would make me push myself through those 10K beyond what my body was acclimated to.
Actually, I did okay. I finished not too far off of my time last year (not that I'm keeping very good track of these things) and felt alright the whole run.
But, yesterday evening...
that was an entirely different story as I nearly cried in pain each time I got up off the couch.
HOLY SHIT MY KNEES!
My knees are so mad at me they want to meet me at the bikeracks after school.
I was wholly unprepared for the stubborness that would make me push myself through those 10K beyond what my body was acclimated to.
Actually, I did okay. I finished not too far off of my time last year (not that I'm keeping very good track of these things) and felt alright the whole run.
But, yesterday evening...
that was an entirely different story as I nearly cried in pain each time I got up off the couch.
HOLY SHIT MY KNEES!
My knees are so mad at me they want to meet me at the bikeracks after school.
Monday, May 08, 2006
the things you find out with site meters
A long time ago, I wrote this post.
anyway, I was just going through the referals to this blog...you know, how people got here and stuff.
One person got here by googling toddler ingested roundup weed spray.
did someone's kid swallow Roundup Weed Spray?? and if he/she did...why was the first place they turned the internet instead of the hospital??
anyway, I was just going through the referals to this blog...you know, how people got here and stuff.
One person got here by googling toddler ingested roundup weed spray.
did someone's kid swallow Roundup Weed Spray?? and if he/she did...why was the first place they turned the internet instead of the hospital??
If I had a picture, I'd show you...
I finished my first straight-outta-my-head-gettin'-down-wit-the-knitty project.
Stripedy legwarmers.
Right. Effing. On.
However...they're a little too big and they're more like stripedy anklewarmers.
I say 'a little too big'...g-damn...they fit on a friend's head.
I still love 'em. I'm wearing them now.
In other news...
My marks came in...*proud*. I'm halfway through the text my syntax prof wanted me to read...*proud*. I'm waiting on a huge gift from Amazon.ca which will include three phonology texts, a knitting socks book, and a Vinyl Cafe cd.
What am I? 80?
I decided to go the high road at work and tell them straight out that I"m quitting to pursue lovely linguistics in Sept, but I wanted to work full time during the summer. They said yes. I had to check again, but they really didn't mind. So, I'm adjusting to my once again new schedule and spending the down time at work (there's lots, currently) practicing my sentence trees and trying to figure out a thesis...and knitting.
I, like, totally get paid for this shit, yo. With monthly bonuses. Too bad I can't stand the thought of another year of dead end oil and gas jobs, because as far as dead end oil and gas jobs go...it's hard to beat.
Physically, I'm not sure my body is quite out of the crazy school phase since I'm still suffering from anxiety periodically without knowing why. I'll just wait it out, I guess.
uh..what else?
Nothing really...just excited for the future.
Stripedy legwarmers.
Right. Effing. On.
However...they're a little too big and they're more like stripedy anklewarmers.
I say 'a little too big'...g-damn...they fit on a friend's head.
I still love 'em. I'm wearing them now.
In other news...
My marks came in...*proud*. I'm halfway through the text my syntax prof wanted me to read...*proud*. I'm waiting on a huge gift from Amazon.ca which will include three phonology texts, a knitting socks book, and a Vinyl Cafe cd.
What am I? 80?
I decided to go the high road at work and tell them straight out that I"m quitting to pursue lovely linguistics in Sept, but I wanted to work full time during the summer. They said yes. I had to check again, but they really didn't mind. So, I'm adjusting to my once again new schedule and spending the down time at work (there's lots, currently) practicing my sentence trees and trying to figure out a thesis...and knitting.
I, like, totally get paid for this shit, yo. With monthly bonuses. Too bad I can't stand the thought of another year of dead end oil and gas jobs, because as far as dead end oil and gas jobs go...it's hard to beat.
Physically, I'm not sure my body is quite out of the crazy school phase since I'm still suffering from anxiety periodically without knowing why. I'll just wait it out, I guess.
uh..what else?
Nothing really...just excited for the future.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
don't know what I'll do
I've got one more question of my semantics takehome exam to write out 'in good' and then I'm finished for the year.
*long exhalation*
wait...have I mentioned how genius I think these guys are:
anyway...aside from my recent fascination with youtube.com
So, I spent today writing out my semantics takehome exam 'in good', like I said, and left for school early in order to meet my cousin, continue to write out my semantics and meet with my prof to discuss my group project and it's sucky-ness, and hopefully hand in this thing so I don't have to go back up there.
Yeah...that didn't work quite how I wanted it to.
I forgot my homework at work...and my prof had little sympathy about the group project. No, she had sympathy just not the kind that translates itself into better marks.
bummer
So, I took all this as a sign that I must be meant to drink cider and hang out at home with the bf.
I wanted to do everything tonight...I knit a little, played a little WoW, and even managed to make a double batch of applespice loaf and that is why I'm up at 12:14 typing in my blog...aside from the fact that blogging was another thing I wanted to do, I'm waiting for my appleloaf to finish baking.
I'm exhausted from my relaxing night.
*long exhalation*
wait...have I mentioned how genius I think these guys are:
anyway...aside from my recent fascination with youtube.com
So, I spent today writing out my semantics takehome exam 'in good', like I said, and left for school early in order to meet my cousin, continue to write out my semantics and meet with my prof to discuss my group project and it's sucky-ness, and hopefully hand in this thing so I don't have to go back up there.
Yeah...that didn't work quite how I wanted it to.
I forgot my homework at work...and my prof had little sympathy about the group project. No, she had sympathy just not the kind that translates itself into better marks.
bummer
So, I took all this as a sign that I must be meant to drink cider and hang out at home with the bf.
I wanted to do everything tonight...I knit a little, played a little WoW, and even managed to make a double batch of applespice loaf and that is why I'm up at 12:14 typing in my blog...aside from the fact that blogging was another thing I wanted to do, I'm waiting for my appleloaf to finish baking.
I'm exhausted from my relaxing night.
Monday, April 24, 2006
belated wishes
Firstly, if you're idea of success is in a picture attached to this post...eat a dick.
Yeah, I know. I know. He's rich. They're beautiful. Blah. Blah. Fucking blah. Look closer. See what's missing? Aside from clothes? Uh...souls.
Yes, indeedy do-dah..it's Hef's 80th. Apparently he celebrated in his usual creepy style with a lingerie party. Who does that who's not grody? Let's make that set of x, where x is an individual, x throws lingerie parties, and x is NOT grody a little smaller. Who does that when they're 80 and is not grody?
These blonde ladies pictured with Hef...these ladies are his girlfriends. Joe Rogan once said that he's got so many girlfriends because they require a support group in order to be with him (paraphrased). Considering that between the time when I heard JRogan say that until now, Hef has gotten older and Hef's gf brigade has tripled in size! I would say that JRogan was pretty accurate in his musings.
So, I checked out his b-day greeting website. You can find it here, filed under depraved lameness. If you are so inclined, I would ask you permit me a few words before you go zooming off to The Grotto.
Please please please check out the birthday greetings. They come in three flavours: celeb, centerfold, and girlfriend.
*ahem*
The celeb Hef-80-barfday-greeting was enlightening. It was eyeopening. It was wonderful. Because if I ever thought that these people were better than me somehow....I've proved myself wrong and I can continue holding my head high.
My friend once said, 'money does not buy class'. Now, she was talking about Calgary during times of the Stampede or the Red Mile, but I found it to be extremely profound and carry it as I do so many proverbs. Let me tell you, it applies here. You only need to see Paris Hilton and her birthday song/wish to understand what I'm talking about.
The centerfold Hef-b-day-wish vid was also something to behold. To sum it up:
Hef, you are amazinggg
Hef, I love you
Hef, you've done more for me than anyone
Hef, you gave me a personal masturbation tool
Oh? He did more for you than anyone? So...he sent you to school, did he? Encouraged you in artistic endevours? Helped you find your true self?
Or did he plaster your tits all over his shitty magazine and use you for eye/handcandy at his grotto parties?
And what is an 80 year old man giving a 20-something girl a 'personal masturbation tool' for? Name anywhere else that would be cool. Anywhere.
Okay..and so what if he does show pics of these girls boobies? What's the big deal? It's not like these women are ruined afterwards, that's true. It's not like they aren't doing it completely willingly and getting quite nicely compensated for any pains taken.
I just hate that he gets glory for this. Everyone in the g-damn world thinks this guy is the cat's pyjamas because he knows how to exploit the beauty of the women who let him. Yeah, so does Larry Flynt...but Larry Flynt doesn't try to come off as some sorta high class guy.
And Hef is not some sorta high class guy because money does not buy class.
I'm not even going to talk about the girlfriend's vid...good lord, it kinda speaks for itself.
Oliver Stone says in his b-day wish that Hef is a man that lives his dream and he (Stone) is in awe. Yeah, me too, Ollie...me too.
Yeah, I know. I know. He's rich. They're beautiful. Blah. Blah. Fucking blah. Look closer. See what's missing? Aside from clothes? Uh...souls.
Yes, indeedy do-dah..it's Hef's 80th. Apparently he celebrated in his usual creepy style with a lingerie party. Who does that who's not grody? Let's make that set of x, where x is an individual, x throws lingerie parties, and x is NOT grody a little smaller. Who does that when they're 80 and is not grody?
These blonde ladies pictured with Hef...these ladies are his girlfriends. Joe Rogan once said that he's got so many girlfriends because they require a support group in order to be with him (paraphrased). Considering that between the time when I heard JRogan say that until now, Hef has gotten older and Hef's gf brigade has tripled in size! I would say that JRogan was pretty accurate in his musings.
So, I checked out his b-day greeting website. You can find it here, filed under depraved lameness. If you are so inclined, I would ask you permit me a few words before you go zooming off to The Grotto.
Please please please check out the birthday greetings. They come in three flavours: celeb, centerfold, and girlfriend.
*ahem*
The celeb Hef-80-barfday-greeting was enlightening. It was eyeopening. It was wonderful. Because if I ever thought that these people were better than me somehow....I've proved myself wrong and I can continue holding my head high.
My friend once said, 'money does not buy class'. Now, she was talking about Calgary during times of the Stampede or the Red Mile, but I found it to be extremely profound and carry it as I do so many proverbs. Let me tell you, it applies here. You only need to see Paris Hilton and her birthday song/wish to understand what I'm talking about.
The centerfold Hef-b-day-wish vid was also something to behold. To sum it up:
Hef, you are amazinggg
Hef, I love you
Hef, you've done more for me than anyone
Hef, you gave me a personal masturbation tool
Oh? He did more for you than anyone? So...he sent you to school, did he? Encouraged you in artistic endevours? Helped you find your true self?
Or did he plaster your tits all over his shitty magazine and use you for eye/handcandy at his grotto parties?
And what is an 80 year old man giving a 20-something girl a 'personal masturbation tool' for? Name anywhere else that would be cool. Anywhere.
Okay..and so what if he does show pics of these girls boobies? What's the big deal? It's not like these women are ruined afterwards, that's true. It's not like they aren't doing it completely willingly and getting quite nicely compensated for any pains taken.
I just hate that he gets glory for this. Everyone in the g-damn world thinks this guy is the cat's pyjamas because he knows how to exploit the beauty of the women who let him. Yeah, so does Larry Flynt...but Larry Flynt doesn't try to come off as some sorta high class guy.
And Hef is not some sorta high class guy because money does not buy class.
I'm not even going to talk about the girlfriend's vid...good lord, it kinda speaks for itself.
Oliver Stone says in his b-day wish that Hef is a man that lives his dream and he (Stone) is in awe. Yeah, me too, Ollie...me too.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
hyperventilation!
I've even written Ralph Bakshi himself trying to find these...
(awhile ago...before youtube.com)
(awhile ago...before youtube.com)
Monday, April 17, 2006
Huzzah!
I just finished 17 pages worth of creole linguistics...and boy are my arms tired.
I hand this in tomorrow, then one more assignment due before my semester ends and I am finished this year. What a year.
I've given myself until today to eat sweets...tomorrow it's back on my no sugar kick.
This post is lame, I know..but I wanted to write the thing about the no sugar so that I make sure I do it.
Coming soon, though...my opinion on Hef's 80s b-day.
Here's a preview: Happy Birthday, you loser jackass.
Night all!
I hand this in tomorrow, then one more assignment due before my semester ends and I am finished this year. What a year.
I've given myself until today to eat sweets...tomorrow it's back on my no sugar kick.
This post is lame, I know..but I wanted to write the thing about the no sugar so that I make sure I do it.
Coming soon, though...my opinion on Hef's 80s b-day.
Here's a preview: Happy Birthday, you loser jackass.
Night all!
these are always fun
| Greed: | Medium | |
| Gluttony: | Medium | |
| Wrath: | Medium | |
| Sloth: | Low | |
| Envy: | Very Low | |
| Lust: | Very Low | |
| Pride: | High |
Take the Seven Deadly Sins Quiz
Friday, April 14, 2006
SO GOOD!
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?
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?
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.
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