Reluctant Apathy

In Newer News...

2008-09-06T19:54:00.002-05:00

I have moved on, alas. I loved this blog layout because it was the first i ever did myself to any real extent, so I was reluctant to change it when I became tired of the same old same old. And the name doesn't quite fit anymore either. It's still amusing and cute, but not really me. I am a college kid all full of ideals and hopes made of soap bubbles and blown glass. Not so much the wishywashy Californian turned disgruntled transplant. Thus I have created a new blog. With a new shiny name.
Goodbye!

2008-02-09T22:06:00.000-05:00

I Am Supposed To Be Homeworking

I have about fifteen pages to write by tuesday. I have not read as much of the book as I should have for the class.
I am going out anyway. Because man. What is college for, if not all-nighters?

Nostalgia

2007-12-19T01:31:00.000-05:00

It's A Dangerous Thing...

...Nostalgia. It comes every now and then. Generally I love my life right now. I have an amazing companion, roommates I get along with and enjoy, a beautiful campus, snow, and so much more.
All in all, I have a great existence. And even though I'm hundreds, if not thousands of miles from my oldest friends, I have contact with most of them. Sometimes not the best contact, but contact nonetheless. It is the miracle of the internet.
Recently I have complained that my friends are "dropping like flies". It's misleading, since there has only been one wedding and one more on the horizon. But they are both dear friends. We went through so many moments together and part of me feels like that means the clock is ticking for me as well. However, I figure I have about two years before I know for sure. And at least three before anything happens. Probably closer to four, and that is only the close end of a very vague spectrum.
Despite the fact that I cringe internally every time one of my friends achieves a major life milestone, I am overwhelmingly happy for them. I am happy for Rachel's wedded bliss to a man who can match her lovable quirky ways with enthusiasm. I am happy for Natalie's slowly building event that promises to not only be beautiful but also the beginning of another adventure. I am happy for Justin's wild romping outside the safety of the US, and how much he has grown since high school. I am happy for Benjamin's blossomed maturity and confidence, and even though we haven't touched base recently, I see signs of interest all over his internet tracks.
Lisa is graduated and, I think, looking at grad schools. Yesenia teaches first grade in New York. Elise has gotten married and had a wonderful son named David. RJ graduated UCSB, or that is the rumor.
Others have graduated. I just noticed the phrase "____is graduated" is wildly inaccurate, grammatically. And yet, I am pretty certain that it is a vernacular thing and not my own personal 3am inability to create English.
This was going to be more entertaining, but mostly I just wanted a forum for my angst. Haha. Paul is away, and although I didn't put two and two together until just now, he is visiting old and dear friends. Perhaps that is insight into my current pensive mood. Usually pensive moods turn out better writing, but oh well.

2007-11-29T11:15:00.000-05:00

What I have been saying...

...since 7th grade.

Racism is simply an ugly form of collectivism, the mindset that views humans strictly as members of groups rather than as individuals. Racists believe that all individuals who share superficial physical characteristics are alike: as collectivists, racists think only in terms of groups. By encouraging Americans to adopt a group mentality, the advocates of so-called "diversity" actually perpetuate racism.
--Congressman Dr. Ron Paul

2007-11-26T18:02:00.000-05:00

Just a Few Reasons...

...why I am nervous about my current state of homework affairs:

I have two papers due tomorrow. Research papers. A paper in which I had to gather people-data through interviews (or surveys, but I did interviews) and conduct actual thinking-type stuff. And another about the Ritual Practices and Symbolism of Daoism.
My usual paper-writing practice is some form of hunt-and-peck internet research coated in a creamy later of fabrication and filled with the fluffy nougat of stylish but meaningless didactic prose.
Which usually would not be such a large issue, excepting that my Daoism professor is an actual Doctor Highly Pretentious and Specific Scholar of Daoism, PhD. And my paper touches a good deal around his area of concentration. Oh hell.
Also I have only very loosely begun either one. Research doing and done. Data collected. But precious few sentances have actually seen blissful daylight.

2007-07-10T23:13:00.000-05:00

In Which I Am Almost There And Back Again

Much has transpired, not to sound overly dramatic. I'm drinking a homemade Shirly Temple (and a rather unorthodox version) in my apartment a full seven hours distant from my family hub. However, as most of my updates go, the new information is soon to be outdated. Sometime between the 25th and the 29th of our month I will be packed along to home again. Then about two weeks later I will be here again. This time for a longer haul.
A short summer camp-esque sojourn into independence and buying one's own food was useful I think.-- despite the hardships of the people I had to leave behind. And the cats. When it came to acquiring last minute digs and the random-draw roommate, I think I came up quite lucky. Roommate is [was] friendly but not saccharine, clever and indulges in puzzles but also Neopets. Fun times were had. I walked just about everywhere. Perhaps a mile most days. Paul visited twice, and I hope realized how enthusiastically he was received. Our freezer is full of meat that needs to be eaten before we disband our little adventure. And yet for dinner I had a quesodilla, and she had a cheesey pasta microwave meal.
August will see me move back here to the mountains. A little more sunshine and Summer, then the colours of Autumn and the depths of Winter are to be beheld. I'm excited, and I hope there is cheese and tea in my future. Reading and warm blankets and snow. Frostbite is not so alluring though. All of my shoes are completely flat on the bottom. For the precarious seasons I will have to buy some shoes with traction. Never before have I really needed them. Decent running shoes might not be a terrible idea either, but I shan't tell you why.
Other things that have been left out of the blog... My childhood friend got married this past May. Well, April really, but that is a different matter. What is important is that in May I went to California and breathed the translucent air and watched the sun set in a murky blaze of orange. There is something about California that is unique and clicks back into place. I was afraid that I might not fit in anymore, that somehow I might have become a small town girl when I was thrust into the new goldfish bowl. California has the jumble of culture that I love. Everything a little rough around the edges and bleeding into eachother. Dozens of people on the street at any given time who don't interrupt your reality unless you interrupt theirs. I love the ability to disappear in the crowd. There were many things I thought I missed and wondered if they would be the same upon return. They were. I had my various kinds of food. My shopping. The mishmash of Tagalog and Spanish and whatever version of English happened to be the vernacular.
Of course home had changed; some hideous "improvements" to the middle school, which are illogically placed and absurdly ugly, a silly statue across from the City Hall that is oddly sized and also awkwardly situated, and the local mall has expanded in many areas. I don't think I need to live there again anytime soon, although I would like to return for another trip and see some places I missed and some people who I wasn't able to connect with. But all-in-all, I think that I'm ready to go. If I am taken back to California I know I can still exist, however new horizons like, say, Washington DC, would not be unappreciated.
For now I have to be ready for home, find a good feed of the Tour De France because we don't have cable, and prepare to come back here with a new set of girls to live with. Four girls. I hope this experiment in insanity will not cause trouble. Girls can be very trying sometimes.

What Greater Superstition Is There...

2007-06-10T12:11:00.000-05:00

"What Greater Superstition Is There...

...Than the mumbo-jumbo of believing in reality?" The Lady's Not For Burning, Christopher Fry.
It's been awhile, eh? That typically means that there has been some life happening. It's funny, the more life happens the less one usually devotes time to writing about it. Changes have been as such. I've moved seven hours away from home. My first "grownup" foray and it's been interesting. I've eaten a lot of frozen pizza, and a lot of mac n' cheese. It's completely weird to not have the cupboards well stocked. It means I have been eating more than usual because I can't find what I really want to eat.
There will be more ti say later, but right now I am hoping there is an IMAX theatre within some reasonable distance. Because I must worship at the shrine of my nerd-dom.

Jo-no-hari

2007-04-16T22:26:00.000-05:00

Jo/No Hari, An Exercise In Ego

Hey do this thing for me.... yes?
It's called a Johari Window.
The Johari Window was invented by Joseph Luft and Harrington Ingham in the 1950s as a model for mapping personality awareness. Just click the five things that you think describe me, and enter a name. Be anonymous if you want, it's fine by me.

http://kevan.org/johari?name=Sunniegreen

If you're feeling brave, do this one for me too! Seriously!
It's a Nohari window, which is basically the same idea but negative traits instead.

http://kevan.org/nohari?name=Sunniegreen

What Is Real Life, Except A Vessel For Dreaming?

2007-04-08T23:30:00.000-05:00

What Is Real Life, Except A Vessel For Dreaming?

I was dancing around the bathroom earlier, cleaning things up, when I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Long skirt, deep purple lady-shirt, multiple necklaces, and a coiled gather of hair. I was radiating earth mother. In a good way, I suppose. It is just weird to turn around and unexpectedly see oneself in a different light. Every so often in life there is evidence of growth.
Easter is here, Paul was a trooper and didn't fall asleep or anything. Last night church was from eleven thirty (pm) until four (am). Repetitive Greek Easter service. Freezing weather. Strange food afterward, and not as much cheese as they usually provide. The day was spent in Jacksonville, at the mall and the bookstore and adjacent to a McDonalds. A strange but lovely day. I especially like being together in bookstores. The wandering, interceptions by the classics or the magazines. Being able to sit in a aisle and read ten feet apart. Loaning pens (which I don't recall getting back...) and writing down titles or authors. Spending two hours in literary bliss when it only feels like forty-five.
Right now I am dying for the rest of my hamburger, from our post-Easter entry back into the world of omnivore-ism, but I want it to be for lunch tomorrow. I had ice cream and pie instead. Alas it did not satisfy my craving. I still want to go in there and devour my delicious hamburger.
When I am older, I want to have multiple Christmas trees. As many as is financially reasonable. I love the trees. Maybe potted trees or something. Being a glutton for doomed trees seems like it isn't very nice. I also plan on stealing Rachel's idea for abandoning every other Christmas. Well, not quite abandoning. We will take the money that would have been spent on presents and take a trip instead. No fake trees. No matter how guilty I feel about supporting tree-murders, I cannot and will not abide fake trees and pine scent from a spray can.
I wrote a new quote on the wall. It is from The Poisonwood Bible, "Trust in Creation, which is made fresh daily and doesn't suffer by translation."

Unattended Children Will be Given Espresso and a Free Puppy.

2007-03-18T22:17:00.000-05:00

Unattended Children Will be Given Espresso and a Free Puppy.

Things have been mildly stressful lately. In the emotional sense more than anything else. When I can't help things it is frustrating. Don't be scared, but I actually went running once. Not that far. But enough to get out some energies. Also it was lovely and chilly out. When I came home I was pink and numb and in a much better mood. Funny how bursts of vigorousness can be cathartic. Or maybe it isn't funny. I don't know, it's late.
Life will finish re-arranging itself soon. I've bought my California ticket, and have engaged in some group nostalgia with Crystal and Natalie. I miss the smog, the traffic, the 24-hour liquor marts. The [actual] gangstas, the diversity, the bookstores. I miss hills, a freezing ocean, and five different ethnic chains for fast food on the same street. Boba, baja food, fusion, Japanese, Viet/French, Thai, Mediterranean in various incarnations, BBQ that isn't just spicy vinegar-water, Mexican, and so much more. I miss being surprised that a store closes at 5. I miss Trader Joe's and the 99 cent store and people who pretend you aren't there. I miss being one in a crowd of millions. For a little while I will be able to watch and loiter and exist without disruption. The camaraderie of strangers here is nice, but unsettling at times. When I go to a store I want to be able to engage in a conversation with the cashier under 15 words. "How are you doing?" "Hi" "$13.50" "Thanks" "Thank you" I love hearing about a stranger's life, but to know that saying Hello is a ten minute commitment to hear a wandering tale of hospital stays or new houses becomes monotonous.
Most of all I am curious as to what I will miss from here once I am away. Will I miss the trees? Clean air?
Warm ocean? Open streets? Big yards? Possibly. I want to know how far my roots have gone. What do I do if I go home (because really, it still is to me) and never want to leave? What if I discover I don't miss anything I've left behind? Or, conversely, what if I miss everything and discover that home isn't mine anymore? Traveling is a stressful thing.
There are people I love here, there are people I love there. There are places I love there, there are a few places I am growing to love here. Moving often as a child must make for some strange attachments. How often can one transplant before he or she mistrusts any supposed permanence? It's not a problem I have, but it's something to wonder.

Cookies

2007-02-25T21:44:00.000-05:00

Dinner's not over until you both get your cookie.

A dear, darling, very-far-away friend of mine once said:

"...a relationship is like a cookie. Some are chewy and easy to bite... others are hard and crunchy. When you dip it into the milk of insecurity, the cookie crumbles soggily into the bottom of life's glass. This is what happens when you add too much of the brown sugar of affection or bake the cookie in the oven of over-enthusiasm. There aint nothin more soggy than the cookie in a glass of milk..."

And I wonder what everyone else thinks of such things. February 22 was the one-year mark of a concert I went to. It holds no particular significance other than a mile marker at which I can pause and survey my surroundings. Many things were different then. Some were small and the changes are hard to find, like swirling fingers in a box of Cracker Jacks for the elusive little paper "toy". Others are almost too large to see all at once. The elephant that has been sitting in your living room for so many days that you forget what exactly is wrong with the picture.
Lately my negligence of the classics has been making me feel guilty and slothful and backward. Familiar names don't have stories attached. Eurydice? What did she do? Was she the dead wife of the fellow Orpheus? What poems did Rilke publish? Why don't I know more German?
--sidenote: She was Orpheus' wife! Joy-of-joys, I feel a wee better. --
I need to read more. Not the silly recreation of Sedaris and Martel and the other not-dead-yet writers whom I have allowed to lure me away from the lucrative prose of Tolstoy and Hemingway and the poetry that I have never dedicated myself to. Poor Donne and I barely knew one another and Milton had hardly any opportunity to melt my brain with confusion. My old friends and ex-tree compatriots. Old souls, but Children of Nature by hook or by crook. We are too long estranged.

Change Is Good. Like Quarters. Who Doesn't Like Quarters?

2007-02-14T02:17:00.000-05:00

Change Is Good. Like Quarters. Who Doesn't Like Quarters?

I finally joined the gym around here. Those that know me know that this is not a normal occurrence. Me? Physical exertion? The sweatpants uniform of the health oriented? It is a strange idea indeed. And although I find the sneakers rather confining, my minor brush with the military did leave me with the knowledge that the gym isn't such a wretched place once your trainer loses interest in you and I remember the refreshing post-workout feeling from the swim team days.
Not to worry, of course, I still eat constantly and maintain a healthy dose of internet bathing. But I have been taken in by the allure of lap swimming. I still don't do anything more than a strenuous walk on a treadmill because I hate the idea that I am wearing down cartilage as well as the ugly thudding sound one's feet make whilst running. Since this town is the size of a very small place I see people I know at the gym, too. gym gym gym. A geriatric but spry old man who is in a club with me, an ex coworker, casual town acquaintances, people who know my sisters, and an assortment of others. It's fun.
Otherwise I am frantically (okay, not as frantically as I should be) trying to beat the world into submission and get my CA/UT trip planned. Driving around earlier today I was struck with some weird homesickness. There are some good memories there. Bad ones too, and memories of boredom on end. Basically just nostalgia. Part of me is worried that I will get really homesick when I have to leave. But I have some roots on this side now. It's weird, having multiple allegiances. Things I love back home, but things I am getting more and more fond of here.

Human events

2007-02-04T23:46:00.000-05:00

Human Events

"But wouldn't it be great if scholars peered into the lives of your most beloved historic figures and discovered that they were even cooler than you thought? What if Franklin Roosevelt kicked ass at dominoes? Or Harriet Tubman built her own soapbox derby racers? Imagine if you opened the paper some morning and read a little item detailing that some prof at Temple had just found private letters detailing Elizabeth Cady Stanton's lifelong search for the world's greatest chili recipe? "

Sure, I found that as part of an advertising blurb promoting a shirt bearing a picture of Abe Lincoln fighting Bigfoot. So? I love the truth in it and that it stirs up some idle thoughts about what these people (and others like them) were really like. It's weird to think how idealistic and two-dimensional we have made our historical big shots. Just because these people managed to become integral movers and shapers in events far bigger than themselves doesn't mean it is okay to pretend that they never had other hobbies and human moments as well.

A Sequel to National Treasure?

2007-01-30T14:59:00.000-05:00

"There's no secret to balance. You just have to feel the waves."

(Quote from Chapterhouse: Dune)
There are many things that I cannot understand in the world. Not the least of which is Nicholas Cage's ability to pick the most absolutely awful movies. Movies that somehow have sequels. National Treasure was painful to watch. I winced in shame for the characters time after time, eventually settling my face into a resigned mask of horror and repulsion. Now I discover that they are planning a sequel? A sequel to a movie that should never have gotten past a second reading of the script? A script that should have been passed around the production office as a good laugh, before being used for taking phone messages and eventually retiring to a recycling bin somewhere.
I'm not saying I haven't ever liked a Cage movie. Matchstick men? Great. Adaptation? Not that bad. City of Angels? Fantastic. Moonstruck? I watch it every time it is on television. The problem is his lack of balance. For every good, redeeming movie that shows what skill he has there are six others that are embarrassing to watch. I don't understand his life choices.

2007-01-21T17:02:00.000-05:00

Casting About For Interim Balance

One of my life goals, a long held dream, something I want to do before being wrung out by the bony hands of death, is convert to Linux. Obviously there are other things I'd like to do with my life (such as arrange my books chronologically by author) but I am yet again in the mood to toy with the idea of casting off the bonds of a Microsoft-choked system. Luckily I do mot game heavily, nor do I do a lot of video or photo editing. As long as I can play on the internet, use itunes, watch movies, and use some version of an Office program, I will be fine. Hardware compatibility could be an issue. Hopefully not.
This itch for change is probably a result of my changing situation at home. Later in the year I am moving out, probably into dorms over the summer and an apartment later on. I've been trying to get rid of as much as possible, and consolidate the rest into boxes or otherwise organizational stackeyness.
It is too bad, though, that this super-transient time is so extended. The forward-looking part of my mind is making me a bit reckless. I need to concentrate on the here-and-now. Unfortunately the here-and-now contains some alluring aspects that occasionally compel me to take a tumble. I will concentrate on more controllable risks, such as the switch to linux when I finish my room re-organization.

2007-01-05T17:07:00.000-05:00

Rabbits are born blind and wearing tiny rollerskates

When I was young -- could have been eight, could have been twelve -- I contracted tonsillitis and the doctor advised my parents to have my tonsils removed so that it would not be a problem in the future. My parents promptly had my two younger sisters' tonsils extracted. Mine never did get around to their turn at the gallows.
Cut to many years later. Now, at the aged state of twenty one I have contracted some lovely strain of tonsillitis. Initially I thought it was a scratchy throat brought on by some badly chosen use of incense on my part. Alas, I woke up the next morning to a wretched condition imposed upon me. Swollen, raw, pulsating throat. Congestion. Coughing. Aches, lethargy (not the fun kind) and general woe. For two days I writhed in such a sullen disarray. Every time I woke, I merely moved a bit and took another dose of Nyquil. Sleep was a brief respite from dealing with the fact that I could not swallow even mashed potatoes without painful difficulty.
On day two I cracked and had my father take me to the doctor. She cringed visibly at the state of my throat. Swabs were taken, prescriptions called in, and other nasty things such as Gatorade were recommended. Sugar levels, you see. Electrolytes for those too impaired to eat properly. The pills were all of the to-be-swallowed variety, and Fate snickers at that a little.
However, to-day I woke up and the day was a miracle. I could eat. I drank. I walked and was a real girl. Still, a cough punctuates this intermediate recovery stage. A cough, however, can be dealt with. The doctor's note I procured keeps me off work for another two days or so. Hopefully I will be completely healed by then.

2006-12-03T17:22:00.000-05:00

...And then the drunk guy touched my hair.

An update on actual life, perhaps? A brief foray into the more corporeal world where people you can see speak in words you cannot. Cannot see, that is. As opposed to the internet existence where the tables are turned and the people have to send bits of their soul as best they can via so many bits per second and a soupçon of hypertext. There have been a few parties. Varying degrees of sobriety. Kissing (entirely sober). Internet Relay Calling (less sober). Ladies' room conclaves (a bit un-sober). Laundry-doing, to abolish the smell of ashtrays and drunkards (wretchedly sober).
It has been a good week and some. Although there were slight indentations in the otherwise shining and shimmery splendor of this last while, I have lived to tell the tale with a smile. And a rather good hair day. Birds are flying and love is floating and bees haven't stung anyone I know for many moons.

"....book about lovers and all that."
"Gah! I hate that word."
"What word? Lover?"
"Yes! It's so.... oh, blech. I just hate it."
"Me too!"
"It is so stupid!"
"I know. I mean, damn."
"Actually, I like it."
"What?"
"I like 'lover'- it's nice and, you know, whatever."
"You would."
"I know. Damn romantic hippie bitch."

There are great things afoot at the Circle K, my friend. Disregard the fact (known or not as is may be) that I have never set foot inside said rotund alphabet character. My best friend of many years is unofficially-officially engaged. Everything but a ring and public announcement. That means that I am feverishly planning all the different ways I can travel 2500+ miles this coming April. Preferably by car, even though it will take about three days. I like the freedom that a car gives. A plane forces one to leave at an exact time. A car is flexible. Well, not all that flexible. It's rather thick metal, you see. But it lends flexibility to scheduling.
My brain is currently attempting to create a reality in which I can take credit for a date that happened over the weekend. Not a date of mine, but of a lovely-wonderful girl and a clever boy who I can't believe I never daydreamed of putting together. I'm not one for matchmaking, but I do love a good "what if...?" scenario. The match is perfect in my limited assessment and I have "awww"ed and "squee"ed to exhaustion at the very idea. I wish them many many happy days and nights and spaces between the hours.
My own squishy feelings are much obliged to an aptly matured batch of XY. Which is my own convoluted way of saying that after three years of wishy-washy rootlessness in North Carolina (not unhappy detachment, but a distinct feeling of transience here) I have succumbed to actual attachment. Hopefully, and I do have hopes, we survive transplantation when the time comes. I'm quite happy. But there is much to be learned, still. It is all a marvelous thing.

2006-11-09T20:50:00.000-05:00

Leaves of Yesterday

I recently realized that I am on my third blog here. I had forgotten about my first one, or about my freewriting. It is interesting to see the ideas of a former me. The blog is ever so self conscious, and the freewrite is philosophical but primitive. Like a high schooler's journal (which, technically, it was) the blog is replete with entries that are meant to be read. Shaded to portray an intellectual. An individual. And intentionally topical. Covering whatever I would most hope a passerby to read. The freewrite was short-lived, but contained some less pretentious and more flatly honest prose. Below is one of the first entries. As a "freewrite" it was train of thought. No backspacing. Enjoy.

In Which I honestly think I've gone mad... again.

That last post was utter crap. I do believe in platonic friends. But you know, sometimes being platonic friends is just a lie . I bet that sometimes being lovers is just a lie too. I like that word better than boyfriend. Sure it sounds pretty serious and all, but it just seems less... meaningless. I guess I have a problem with doing things that are meaningless. I don't like to do them. That probably seems like a lie to a lot of people who know me.... but its not. Really. Honestly. I cant do something that no good will come out of. I cant think right now though. I feel like cleaning. But I don't have the right dress. I feel like cleaning and tidying and making everything cute and perfect. I want a european house. I feel like having tea while making some sort of snack for the tea that I'm going to have on the weekend. I want to make a cake. A bready cake. None of that frosting nonsense. I feel like a sweetish bready cake that is a bit heavy and thick but goes well with a hot tea on an autumn day. If I had a sundress I would be thinking of iced cream and light iced teas. On a verandah. I want a white dress. And hats. I am going to start wearing hats. When I get a job that is. I need money so I can buy some new clothes. I am sleepy but I'm still inn such a mood... I feel like speaking french and moving somewhere that the homes are so close together that you can reach into your neighbors house whilst standing in your kitchen or climb onto the roof and get all the way across town. I'd like to travel rooftop to rooftop.

Although looking at many entries from both journals reminds me how much I have changed as a person, reading this reminds me just how much I have stayed the same in spirit. I hope that my writing style has improved. Even so, this is still something that I could write to-day. I remember thinking long and hard about the case for platonic friends. In the end, I have to agree with myself. They are possible. Unfortunately there are too many people who are willing to lie to themselves and create platonic friendships that are nothing but air. Some are created out of some desperate idea that if one doesn't have friends of both sexes, then there is something wrong. Others have "friends" who are nothing more than a would-be harem. There are one-on-one platonics borne of two people who have met and are too cowardly to take the relationship the extra step where it should be.
That isn't to disregard the real friendships that exist. There are people who meet and are truly matched and exist without that sexual tension. People who fit so well that they become like a brother and a sister. Not that there is an absence of any sexual energy, but that the person does not fit your idea of a partner and/or has become spiritual family and therefore is off limits. Not every attractive person in one's acquaintance is the prospective other half of one's children's dna.
Aside from the friends who become like family, there is another breed of platonic. There is the friend who could have been more, but who you may have met at the wrong time of your life. Some quirk of fate that has misaligned your destinies just enough that what could have been, cannot be, or at the very least cannot be until a later time. So the couple remains friends. Perhaps out of a hope that lingers at the back of the mind, that maybe one day the planets will align and the phantom relationship will be realized. Perhaps they accept or do not realize their misfortune (if that is what it is) and the friendship lasts over the ages. A friendship that causes sideways glances between the non-couple's significant others, and the two eventually learn to downplay while in front of their spouses. Or perhaps they don't.
There are, of course, other breeds and shades of intersex companions. There are individuals who make it just fine in life without forming close non-romantic relationships with the opposite sex. This was just a ramble brought on by my past life. I'm fond of who I was, but I am glad I moved on. Yet, that tea and cake sounds like a fabulous idea.
As for the lovers who lie to themselves, there are too many forms and things to say. This would be too long. I will copy another post from the journals of yore when this one stales, and we will touch upon the indomitable, great Kate Hepburn. Old entries are lovely jumping off points.

2006-10-17T20:04:00.000-05:00

Newly Wed

Recently -- okay not all that recently, but recently enough -- I was humbly immersed in my drudgery as a retail minion, when an old couple came to check out. They were teasing eachother, in the way that many couples do, faux fighting and grins at the spectators. But there was a subtle differance in their actions. Instead of a self-concious display designed to keep the errands entertaining, or a routine that helped them dispel the day's frustrations, this had a quality that immediately made me smile. A sincere knowledge of the other. The way they moved, with a natural comfort within their orbits, and the subtle contact when they talked. Hands brushing and eyes meeting.
The wife noticed my smile as I watched their unabashed coquettry and leaned forward over the counter, "It's okay for us to talk like this, we haven't been married that long." My grin expanded only to fall into blank pandemonium as she continued to share, "We'll have been married 62 years this November 11th." All pretension lost, I couldn't supress my love and amazement. My face didn't know what to do with a smile that seemed like the most absurd of understatement. The rest of the day, and even now, I remember that perfect little couple.
I can only hope they aren't as much of an exception to the rule as they seem to be.

2006-09-11T22:23:00.000-05:00

There's definitely no logic, To human behaviour.

So sayeth the Bjork, and so sayeth I, 'tis a wonder that we've any dignity at all. Stumbling around in the midst of others no more centered than ourselves. Writing poetry about eyes as windows and hands as books and faces the stories that we cannot ever know. Wistful thinking, all. Class, raise your hands ifyou have looked into the eyes of a stranger and seen so much as their retina. Tell me, please, if the way they held their pen had any meaning. I'd love to know the secret of knowing. Because I don't.
It is an innacurate science at best. Sifting the fragments of a person collected from the moments when their reality brushed with yours. The bow in her hair? Hers or her mother's? Sunglasses for the chic or as an opportune mask for the shy? Will tried, he did, to dispel the myth of illusory life. Those poets who pretended to see gold in her hair or a rose on her brow. But when the Bard tore down the screen, what had he left? A figure more real, more familar, but even he couldn't tell the person through the pieces.
There is no particular place that I am going with all this. I can't even be sure it makes sense because I am too dazed to pay attention and too distracted to re-read. Which isn't so extraordinary, since I rarely if ever edit anything I write anyhow. Chain of thought is not quite the appropriate term. But something very like.
Life has been excellent for the most part. Spanish class is an actual class this semester, which is frustrating to those of us who had the more whimsical education of the summer course. Anthony is being driven slightly mad, but I think that has something to do with the distribution of his course load in general as much as it does this class in particular. My science is nice and soft, of the Environmental persuasion. It appeals to the hippie in me. Computers is going well enough. Things I know mixed with things I won't ever need to know again. Or so I tell myself, arrogantly, as I look at the computer as my own domain. My birthright as a member of the modern collective.
So far, the best class has been Public Health. An intriguing mix of politics and observations of humanity. Light on science (not to call it unscientific, just no science that I have to get intimately acquainted with) and well mired in theory. And it will hopefully be my last semester (knocks wood madly) at this tiny college by the sea. For all intents and purposes, a cunning little place with a lovely location. But I don't belong here and I have no delusions to the contrary. Time to hie for other pastures. But where shall they be? I'd love to know.
Also, I still haven't bought any of my schoolbooks. Excepting Health because I like it. And the Spanish book is the same as the Spanish 1 book. So I suppose it is just Bio and CIS that are being neglected. But it will all work out. There are some lovely familiar faces in my classes who have been generous with books, as well as company. I shall soldier on.
Speaking of. I realize this is the anniversary. "Patriot's Day" rings a little false to me. It seems to softly mock the very real solidarity we saw that day and those days after. As though we have to commercialize the day. Why can't it stand alone? A reminder of the event and the people, instead of another springboard for bland speeches for and against whatever brand of nationalism is fashionable that day. As for the event itself, and what we are actually supposed to recall, I haven't any words.

2006-08-29T14:16:00.001-05:00

"What, after all, is a halo? It's only one more thing to keep clean."
--Christopher Fry

So I have read Tam Lin. Again. That book always leaves me with a particular disturbance. A sense of satisfaction for the things I know, lightly buttered with the depression of all I have not yet read. The volume is replete with literary allusion -- no, not allusion. Reading it is much akin to being pummeled with the entire classic section of the library. Every play you should have read in class, had you paid attention or attended a school that bothered with actual english education. Poets are thrown about with loving abandon. Names you recognize, that for many years have lurked in some dusty corner of your mind, but whom you cannot quite place except to nod quietly and acknowledge the weight of the syllables.
Recently a friend and I decided that this particular month of August was cursed. There has been something off in our universe. A cosmic window left open, and the breeze has scattered the strings of destiny. The people are noticing. There was a strange feeling of apprehension, strong and clear. As if there was something very large and of indefinate allegiance. It seemed neither ominous nor wholly good. And when my universe is off balance, I fall into Tam Lin. It is somewhat comforting to delve into another plane that is neither friend nor foe to the characters within. Characters who can quote Shakespere, recite Milton, and read plays all afternoon for recreation. It is a funny sort of utopia.

Tomorrow I will seven eagles see, a great comet will appear, and voices will speak from the whirlwinds foretelling monstrous and fearful things -- this universe never did make sense, I suspect it was built on government contract.
-- Heinlein

In other news, the universe is settling and we are on the lookout for what may have changed. It is a new dimension, but so was the old one, once. I have taken an interest in folk music, I am trying (again) to learn the recorder, classes have started and I haven't bought any of my books, I am starting some applications for other colleges. Here is hoping that this brave new world will have some lovely people in't.

2006-07-31T21:36:00.000-05:00

Jeans aren't the only thing overpriced these days.

I love shoes. Not in the stereotyped, must-complete-the-outfit, spend $600 on a pair of fabulous four-inch pointy sex heels sort of way. During a normal day I am loath to even don a pair of flip-flops. My work shoes are two years old and have a hole in the toe where my white socked toe pokes out. They have been stretched out nearly a full shoe size from my shifting and spinning. Spending more than $15 on a pair of footwear seems ludicrous, even if it is something really special.
When I surf the internet, lusting idly after shoes, it is the desire to have a complete costume. Something interesting, comfortable, and that lends a special something to the would-be outfit that slowly condenses in my mind. Unfortunately, such marvelous shoes are outrageously overpriced.
There is a particular fascination with boots that dogs me. Tall ones. Not streetwalker whore-boots. More like an Indiana Jones sidekick. Leather up to the knees, a white hijab, Khaki shorts and a peasant blouse. I would have a picture of the khaki shorts, but there is currently a sort of horrid trend in shorts right now that has left the internet devoid of anything wearable.
However, there are few heels that are really comfortable. I shift and play on my feet so much that heels can be tantamount to a death sentance. Senior year in high school I found my favourite fancy shoes ever. They may look humble, unassuming, even plain. In reality they are vastly comfortable. They are secure. I can run and play in them. They can be worn with anything, and hold their own. They fell apart a few years later due to overuse, but I hunted them down and am waiting until I can commit to paying $45 for my holy grail of shoes.

2006-07-21T21:10:00.000-05:00

A Day in the Life. Really.

Woke up at 500 am
Tried to imagine things that might cause work to close without actually causing financial or physical destruction until 540am
Got dressed, &tc.
Ate breakfast [Cranberry nut something. delicious] 605am
left for work 615am
Clocked in, sat on counter until 700am and daydreamed.
Sat in copycenter on stool until 800am and daydreamed.
Customers began trickling in, was forced to go back to no-service desk. Entered customer info into computer, copied down interesting names onto post-it until 1000am
Checked people out, argued with manager who was trying to be clever about why Angelina Jolie could not be a design diva. For one thing, she doesn't design anything at the moment. Also taught him about the differences between the fashion worlds of LA and NY. Most of it was made up. Also daydreamed until 1200.
Next shift comes in. Gets very busy. Puts next cashier on register and runs to lunch. Only good part of early shift is the aility to duck out at the exact moment that it actually gets busy.
Returns from lunch at 100pm, (turkey/swiss/mayo/bbqsauce/jalepeno/german bread sandwich, read The Revenger's Tragedy prologue in my new book) and goes to help unload stock from the back room.
Pretends to be occupied, generally brandishing scissors and poking patterns into boxes, whilst chatting. Exeunt at 2pm.
Returned terrible pink bathingsuit via post.
Fiddled with Common Application online.
Talked to BYU darling from 300-730pm about:

Her personal polyamorousity
What is legal in an LDS wedding
Legions of shoes and their proper pirate-ninja-fairy-hobo ensembles
Whether or not tunics look like potato sacks. I think they often do not.
Boobs turning striped tunics into Op Art
Stefana and their intriguing possibilities.
How to pronounce Stef-uh-na
Do some second-time brides try and make their second wedding exactly like the first?
Tapas
Elevensies
High Tea
Menus for each of the above
Spent a half hour typing only in end-rhymes and loose verse

Listened to John and Ken podcasts from KFI until 1000pm
Also read more Revenger's Tragedy, an article about the history of Language, some Wiki articles about Mongoloid and Caucasian Skulls, learned about forensic hair analysis.
Basked in my eccentricities by writing a post about them for LJ. 1005pm
Will soon catch up on the Tour and do Laundry! Thrilling.

Little sister Sophie came home this morning from ten days in California. I want/need to visit, but I'd like to spend an old-fashioned fortnight there. Maybe two. I am currently reigning in my Alton Brown obsession. Mostly. Mainly by concentrating on the fact that when I was born he was already two years past drinking age. And that his hair is receeding. And ... It's useless. He's adorable! As long as I don't look at the burgeoning patronly stomach or the character that is beginning to show in his face. Mmm. Motorcycles. Science. Cooking. Quirky clothes. Fun hair. All systems are go.
And yes, I totally cross-posted this to my LJ as well. I felt like it. Deal.

2006-07-09T15:21:00.000-05:00

Be Late, Ed?

After a lifetime (my first 19 years) in California, my family and I moved to North Carolina. I had been considering cutting my hair before the move but was hesitant. In the end, I'm glad that I didn't. It was and is very much a part of who I am. When I finished unpacking my mass of stuff, (a family of six, and a good fourth of it was my stuff.) I embarked on a curious adventure into obscurity.
Our "anniversary" of arrival is the evening of july 4th. My parents' anniversary is July 7th. Or so they think. Not because of uncertianty at the time they were married, due to intoxication or vague hippie wedding ceremonies (at least, not that I know of), but because my family is not sentimental in that way. My dad, actually, is the one who usually remembers it.
But I digress. It has been two years since we moved here. I sometimes find it hard to believe that I haven't seen some of my dearest and most awesome friends (excepting Crystal!) in two or more years. Life has become pretty routine. There are people that I like, people that I tolerate, and people that I smile and nod at while I imagine sticking them all about with pins. As certain events loom closer (knock wood!) and I embark on my third year, I think it's been going pretty well. Except for the book reading, which has been lacking. Not lacking in books, mind you, but lacking in my follow through in actually completing the book. Hopefully next year's booklist is more impressive.
This year, among other things, I discovered at least three people who read this blog whom I have never met. Two of which seem to just lurk. But I know you are there because your IP shows up many times. I'm intrigued, because this place is rarely updated and not particularly thrilling.
And yes, for me this is new year's. It is a big turning point for me. October and September were important, but more like near misses. Many parts of this seem vague. Ah, well. It is two days late anyway.
Happy Birthday, United States. And what happened to that- what was it again? The paper thing... you know, everyone likes to talk about it but no one really reads it. Yeah, like the Bible. The Constitution! Right, that was it. Whatever happened to that?

2006-07-04T21:54:00.001-05:00

*gasp!* *dismay!*

It is once again time for that sports event unequaled in awesomeness. Yes, it is Tour De France time. Lance is retired. I wonder how he is dealing with his massive amounts of free time now. Is he still training vigorously? Is he at home watching ESPN classic and nursing a beer belly? A quick google search would probably yield some insight, but there is a certain charm to not knowing.
All year I was looking forward to seeing my favourites in the old core riders; those who were consistently winning points in mountains or who fought for podium places in overal standings. Ulrich the big mountain of a man, and Vinokourov being my especial favourites. I wanted to see them along with other contenders like Hincapie, Karpets, Landis, Basso, and others whose names are not as memorable or more complicated.
Unfortunately I noticed an absence of Vino's name when T-mobile was talked about, and an even more startling neglect of any news about Ulrich. It made me suspicious. I admit that I don't follow biking year-round. I check in from time to time, but I don't follow what isn't on OLN, and I even miss most of what is. Therefore I was sad to look up the team lists and not find their names. Even worse, I googled and found that the drug scandals that were being thrown around in '04 and '05, much out of dislike or jealousy of Lance, had begun to hit home. Ulrich and Basso are suspended, and Vino's entire team is not participating.

With Ullrich, Basso, Mancebo and Vinokourov, as well as last year's retired winner Lance Armstrong, all now absent, it means the Tour will start without the top five riders from 2005.

-BBC News

I still think that it will be an interesting year. Hincapie is still here, and so are my other familiar faces. But I'm going to miss my boys. Watch the Tour! It is sports and history and crashes and talking. Like nascar, only interesting and fun.
Also, Yay Italy for beating Germany to-day. And I cleaned up the last post a tad because I think the dialogue wasn't that clear before.

2006-05-23T15:50:00.000-05:00

How The I Love Stopped to Worrying Learned and BOMB
Or
Sonya's Little Obsessions, No. 5-41213A6 25B

Some people have an addictive personality. Some people are intoxicatingly charming or hypnotic (a la Charles Manson). Others are wantonly stupid. Each to his or her own. I happen to have a fascinating accumulation of things that I adore and become very attached to. And some potent little peeves.
The Books are my latest obsession. I have been trying think of something to call their genre. Some music sites have them listed as "Folk" or "Alt. Folk", but both are woefully inadequate and misleading. My best ideas so far have been "Found Sound Folk Opera" and/or "The World all mixed up and taken out of context". Take them for what you will. And buy their cds! They are fantasmic and creative. Imagine if someone turned all your memories into fruits and veggies, then diced them into medium-small bits via the food processor, and made a salsa seasoned with some finely ground guitar melodies that have a tendancy to clump unevenly. Like pepper in a glass of water. You would have something strange and delicious -- and totally unlike just eating a mango with bell pepper.
Also, I was out with a few people the night before the night before last. We went to a bar, a club; standard fare in a place without much of a nightlife. Not my scene but hey, no one else was doing anything and I get along alright with the people. But that isn't the point. I was driving with three people in my car. Lets call them Guido Squidigger, Waldorf "Wally" McFarland Snootyville II, and Winona McWaldorfssister. I like Guido just fine, and Winona is very nice even though I don't have a lot in common with her, but Wally makes me waver between murderous and ashamed. He is apallingly mean and crude, but he is sometimes so desperate and gullible as well. It's terribly sad/pitiful when it isn't making me want to use a machete and a pike on him.
But back to the story. We were driving back from our night of blah revels and had stopped for some food. The bags were sitting at Wally's feet, and he decided to roll down the window and toss the trash out onto the street. I saw him look at me just before he did it. He most likely knew that it was not something that I would approve of since I have a bit of a reputation as a treehugger anyhow. As he let it drop I exclaimed "Wally!"
Wally: "*laughs* What?"
Sonya: "What did you Just do? Why did you DO that??" I only have a mildly raised voice, though thoroughly shocked and irritated.
Wally: "What?!" He begins to suspect that I am growing angry, and he cannot decide if it is safe to be amused and cocky.
Sonya: "You just littered! You threw trash out the window of my car!" Car slows, and stops.
Wally: "Oh my God, Sonya stop it. What are you doing? I'm not going to pick it up."
Sonya: "I'm going to go back and get it." I make an attempt at a three point turn, greatly aided by the lack of vegetation on either side of the road.
Wally: "I'm not picking it up... What are you doing, I'm not going to pick it up!"
Sonya: "I don't care, I'm going to pick it up!" I am thoroughly pissed.
Wally: "What if a car comes? You're in the road! You're going to get out of the car? What about traffic?" He's weirded out. And possibly embarassed at being called on his littering.
Sonya: "They will just have to Go. Around. Me." I've parked facing the wrong way on the wrong side of the road. I take the keys so that no funny business goes on, and leave the door open.
Wally: "Get in the car Sonya, stop it!" He is: Freaked. Nervous. Embarassed. And he's trying to stay cool.
Sonya: "No, this is disgusting and I'm not going to be the kind of person who would leave it here." I pick up the bag and cup, but don't scrounge for napkins and assorted things that may have rolled out. I'm trying to maintain an angry dignity. I get back in the car, Wally takes back his trash.
Wally: "I can't believe you did that. I clean my car out through the window all the time!"
Sonya: "Then you are a disgusting american pig. That is revolting." I'm ashamed that the insult is not more unique.

Wally was somewhat abashed, and said that he was totally going to tell people at work because that was crazy and hilarious. I think he is ashamed to have been called on it though, because it has been a few days and no one seems to have heard anything. Usually any good stories are out in under 24 hours. I told a few people and they were all on my side. Technically. I don't know how many would have actually turned the car around. All-in-all, I'm quite proud of myself. At least now that I'm over being incredibly pissed.

2006-05-10T00:21:00.000-05:00

Mostly Coherent, At This Hour.

I am three-fourths a third generation American. Three out of my four grandparents emigrated from Europe; my mother's mother is Native American(Chumash, holla!). It's slightly more complicated than that, but for the sake of simplicity- there it is. I love immigration; not just because it made out country great, blah blah blah, but also because if it weren't for immigration, the world would never have had the benefit of my existence. It would be a dull place indeed.
I think that the majority of the debates about Illegal Immigration are willfully ignoring the actual issue. Hopefully it is willful. Otherwise it is just ignorance and that is sad. There are all these protesters saying that the government wants to turn Illegal Immigrants into criminals. I'm sorry, what part of the fact that you are here illegally implies that you aren't one already? The only thing that the proposed law would change, from what I've seen and I might not have all the facts, is that it would become a federal offence and not just a state offence.
Unfortunately, although I had all kinds of ranting and spiel about this, I am now tired and am going to take a cop-out. This is one of the best things I have read about the Illegals so far, read it because he makes sense.

the old school complaint about illegal immigrants is, "They're stealing our jobs." Having a demonstration that basically says, "Why yes, actually, we are stealing your jobs," doesn't seem like a very good idea. But again, maybe there's something I'm missing here.

AND:

I think the efforts on the part of the illegal immigrants' support network to make this about "the immigrant community" when it's about the illegal immigrant community are cynical and obnoxious.

Other things I planned to rant about:

"Tax cuts for the rich" is attacking the wrong thing, or at least omitting some key factors. 10% of the population pays 66% of the taxes. Given, a lot of the rich people have loopholes so it isn't all them and most of the middle class get screwed, but isn't that yet another reason we should move to a flat tax rate?
Mexican officials with connections to the US immigration force have been pressuring the Border Patrol to ignore the Minutemen's reports of Illegals crossing the border, or to omit the Minutemen's involvement when filling out reports after catching would-be Illegals.
Am I the only one who thinks that Disney made a complete travesty of Nick's Doug? It gets me all riled up, just thinking about it!

And one more from the same website as above, because I just found out that "boyo" is derrogatory in Welsh circles. And because I think that many outspoken feminists are quite silly.

If Dick is a sexist, he may be willing to do the dishes just to avoid debating his views with Jane.

2006-04-25T22:57:00.000-05:00

I Pity Da Fool
I have been doing a final, and in my long standing tradition of doing everything except the actual work until the last minute, I did some calculations. I have had a math class just about every year of my school life. Today I did my homework for the first time in two years. I have not done my homework regularly in at least seven years. By regularly, I mean twice in one week.
Though I have a deep resentment of my study skills class, the writing tends to be easy and fun. The general disregard for professionalism may be a factor in the amusement.

[Anthropology] is perfect for my penchant for analyzing what may strike others as mundane (I have spent more than an hour, on more than one occasion, discussing grammar on the telephone) and my generally equal love of all modes of learning. The flexibility of study area and structure of professorships has ruined me for any other field. Excepting, perhaps, rock star.

...At first I felt as though I had discovered a profession that would pay me to be nosey and invasive. Alas, I was informed that if I wanted to go that route I might be better suited to psychology. However my interest was piqued.

...Linguistics and Religion won out in the long run, and are currently battling for my affection. It has been years since I have so much as glanced at another career. There was a quick fling with Marine Biology, but it meant nothing and was quickly quashed by a run in with a vengeful seaman and recalcitrant squid.

Just a few excerpts for your reading pleasure and my arrogant pride. I haven't gotten accustomed to MLA format yet, but I'm trying. It feels soo much later than it is. One AM feels more like two or two and a half AM.
Stressing over finals has never been a hobby of mine, I'm a student of the que sera sera variety, but even so- I'm exhausted!
On the plus side, the chess club has posted some rather ingenious flyers.

2006-04-16T23:33:00.000-05:00

Odds and Ends

Happy Easter to those of you who celebrated it. Happy Palm Sunday to me and my folk. Happy Passover, and Happy other stuff I'm too lazy to look up right now. To-morrow (technically today, I suppose) I leave for Roanoke! *insert obligatory "Lost Colony" joke here*
Really, there are people who would have a witty retort to the thought of someone visiting the Lost Colony. Me, for starters. Enjoy the filler:

http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/archives/005074.html

Old man #1: Do you know why a bunny is connected to Easter?
Old man #2: No.
Old man #1: It's because Easter is about fertility and rabbits are animals that are always copulating.
Old man #2: Huh, I never heard about that.
Old man #1: Think about it. On Easter, you have the bunnies and the bunnies have eggs and the eggs have children in them.

--Penn Station

An MSN Conversation with Crystal:

Crystal says:
i was listening to the song you gave me and my sister came over to listen. I said I'm listening to it because you recommended it to me because you went to their concert. She asked if you went by yourself and I said no, she went with friends. "oh, so there's more like her?"

Crystal says:

"no she's quite unique!"

2006-04-06T19:43:00.000-05:00

Total Fiction, and all of it true.

Okay so I mostly just wanted a spiffy title. There really isn't anything literarilly fantabulous going on here. Literarilly, not Literally.

Literarilly
adv: with respect to literature or writing; "literarilly speaking, this excerpt is extremely engaging, though somewhat lacking in bohemiaristic subtextualizations."

Not much has happened of late, but I haven't been bored either. I killed my computer, almost a year to the date that I killed my last computer. The newspaper-type-entity at school published an article I submitted, and I'm now thoroughly ashamed for various reasons. My computer turned out to be fine, and it was the monitor that had succumbed to somber death. I "failed" a math test. I did well on a math test. The manager at work called me weird. Actually it was more involved than that.
I was shelving stuff that was in a cart, with one leg up on the cart and bending down sort of yoga-like to put things on the pegs. It feels good, since I'm in my feet a lot and we aren't technically allowed to sit down. Plus, it makes the monotony a little more challenging and is fun. Anyway, Guido* made a comment along the lines of "Look at that? Who does that? That's not normal!" Andre the Manager says, "I resigned myself a long time ago to the fact that nothing she ever does is normal." They then watched Guido demonstrate my other one-foot technique, with one knee bent and the foot resting on the other knee. He couldn't do it very well, so I demonstrated myself.
It was decided (as it had been multiple times before) that my attitude is something along the lines of "Hey,*spins* I'm Sonya. *shrugs, one foot in air* F*%# you." Guido actually did a little physical accentuation on that one.
And the article. I submitted it in three sizes, so that I could get an estimation of the size desired for something else I was supposed to write. It's true, I offered to write something about that, er... subject... if it was needed. Anyway it was a funny little thing about some of the horrendous stuff I've seen here but was not something I expected to see in the paper. Oh well. I consider it fair play since I was a wee flakey. Mostly I was struck by the burning need for a copyeditor. Honestly. I wish I had the get-up-and-go for that sort of position, because I certianly carry a decent (though by no means perfect) gramatical torch.

*all names have been changed. Not particularly to protect them, but because it is fun.

2006-03-19T00:05:00.001-05:00

Oh Heavens...Finally.

Drumroll please ... I, Sonya Whats-her-face, who has finished entire research projects in one night, who could not for the life of her think of One. More. Thing. about the Rococo, who once worked retail barefoot an entire day, has Finished Her Art Midterm.

That's right folks. You won't have to hear a single thing about filigreed chairs, nekkid babies, colour schemes, or the influence of Antiquity.

Actually, I never mentioned any of those things. I sounded more like Ihateonlineclasses ARGHwhydidItakethis&%$#*class? OhMy&%$*^$#Ican’tdothis Iamgoingtodieofanessay, oressay-that-sucketh-titis. Ihatethisohmyfreakingheck.AHRSHGHGHHH&^%$%!

Yeah, that sounds about right. Anyhow I will revert to the familiar state of loathing online classes and normal procrastination. The downside of The Art Midterm That Tried To Eat My Brain, aside from the death-like symptoms, was that I couldn't stop trying to write but I never actually got anything done and so it was like a viciously frustrating limbo. Like purgatory if purgatory was more like hell.

2006-03-09T22:34:00.000-05:00

On "r" Insertion and Glide Cluster Reduction

A few excerpts.
Sonya: blast our mutually addled brains. it took us this long?
Rachel: yeah, we have minds like an old library, with a card filing system that was tipped over and just left in a big pile.

Sonya: man, I wish he didn't look like a bowl of porridge.
Rachel: well it could be worse. suppose he was...say...AN ONION FACE?
Sonya: True, but I don't want porridge children any more than you want onion progeny.

The teacher of one of my less compelling classes, who darts her head and eyes as though she were watching particularly energetic flies at the back of the class, told us that we need to study to help cement the knowledge in our brains. Shocking. But more to my point, she went on to say that she understood that we didn't go home and have conversations about chemical compounds or parts of speech. In fact she says that anyone who did that should probably look into getting a life. Naturally I took umbrage quietly. Not only do I talk about things other than the latest American Idol, because there is a world full of interesting minutae, but I actually had had a very extensive multiply-houred conversation on the phone about parts of speech! Honest-to-goodness debate over the nature of predicates and the neccessity of learning the nature of each bit when for us it was rarely needed. Egotistical? No. Just secure in our knowledge that we are better than.

There is a RenFaire in Raleigh soon. I'd love to go but I'm not sure how to go about arranging it, or whether it is at all feasible. Chances are excellent that I would get lost or picked up by carnies. Also there is only one person around here that I could imagine bringing with me, and I am not well aquainted with her yet.

2006-02-24T14:13:00.000-05:00

And... Scene!

Wednesday, 430-ism pm I start on the road to a concert. It is a three hour road and I am deeply rooted in my pre-event pessimism. It is like pre-florida, only less scared and more cynical. Tickets? probably sold out. Venue? Rat-infested and changed. Band? Weasels with spoons and rubberbands.
Fortunately the ride was smooth (For those of you worried for my passengers, know that I was kicked out of the driver's seat about halfway there.) and the companions amicable. My cds were strange and heavily mocked. I had anticipated the weird reaction since most of my "normal" cds have been kidnapped to my sisters' school - however I didn't realize how misplaced "Matchmaker, Matchmaker" (Fiddler on the Roof) or "Que sera sera" (Doris Day) or even "Do you hear the people sing" (Les Miserables) would be. Actually, I never noticed how many musicals I seem to listen to.
The radio was confiscated from my influence as well.
We made bad-to-decent time heading up there (My time being bad, Paul's time being decent, and it all even-ing out to generally not great) and only got mildly displaced when we got to the "city".

::sidenote:: I detest North Carolina's road system. If there was any way to make a trip more confusing or scary or dangerous I don't know what it would be. The streets are too narrow, the curbs are nonexistant. Roads open into five-point intersections with no clear instructions as to which street is which or what way is straight. If you are able to tell which light is yours, then you are already ahead of the class. Add into this the inconsiderate light-running lane-swerving inbred hamsters that drive all the other cars on the road and a fun time is had by all. Really.

Thanks to Dane's previous familiarity and Paul's oddly ghetto spider-senses we made it to the Cat's Cradle. We bought tickets, listened to sound check, and generally froze while waiting outside. We arrived at 8pm, later than we'd hoped, but managed the front of the line. Doors opened sometime after 9 or so. Heather and Paul defended territory at the front and center of the stage while Dane and I did laps to-and-from the car picking up and dropping off various accessories.
Voyager One opened and were marvelous. (Bassist pictured above) On the internet they are described as Space-rock, and I don't really have any ideas for elaboration. They were also quite nice guys, and I am sorry that we didn't get to see their projection effects (their projectionist couldn't make the tour). Elefant was next and they were alright. The lead was a bit melodramatic, and I was afraid of being hit by sweaty droplets. For some reason I tend to sound critical describing them, but their bassist? other guiratist? I can't remember what he was playing. Anyway he looked like Peewee Herman. Honestly.
Black Rebel Motorcycle Club was up next, and I will never ever be comfortable just saying "BRMC", because acronyms are awkward. Of course Black Rebel Motorcycle Club doesn't exactly trip off the tongue either. Either way, they came on and played for two hours. It was great. The lyrics were often intelligible, since we were right up resting on the amps/speakers/stageyfeltedthings, but the guitars were lovely. It was all the rockingness that I'd hoped and none of the wonky special effects that I'd feared. There is really a bit more to be said, but I'm tired. To sum up I shall say it was fun all round, and I didn't have to drive home- which made me happy. Dane took the wheel home and we didn't even die once.
Ah, something that made me inordinately pleased and has to be said: While Heather and I were at the stage taking crazy amounts of pictures, some strange, probably drunken, rather whorey girl shoved her way up and was making sexed-up faces at the lead. He ignored her and her gesticulations, though she didn't seem much put out. However space was tight, and Heather turned to her and said, "Excuse me, sweetie- could you move back over? I'm with the newspaper." Bada bing, bada boom. Chickie is gone. If Heather hadn't already scored points with a spiffing ensamble then that certainly would have put her in my good graces.
Suddenly I'm thinking of more things that should be said... We also all got picks. And Voyager One gave most of us stickers. And we met the bands. I'm odd about faces and recognizing people, so I'm not sure if we met anyone from the second band or not, though I think we did. We definately met the others though. Good people.
That's the end for real this time. I've got an early morning tomorrow and I'm still not all the way recovered from my midweek soiree.

2006-02-17T00:17:00.000-05:00

Steve Holt!

Today I got seven books at the Salvation Army for a dollar and seventy-one cents. Even so, I am in a funk. The (98.3% positive) cancellation of Arrested Development has made me nostalgic and sad, the way the abandonment of one of the only worthwhile things on television might sort of kill a person's week. If you notice the internet being a little sluggish or perhaps just lacking in that special something- it is because we have lost a little bit of our hearts. *sigh*
On top of that I went to the Humane Society Thrift Store (the funk leads to binging. And I for one tend to fall off the wagon and into a bookstore.) where they have some good and cheap books. Of course there are also a huge number of vapid romance novels and a large stack of Iaccoca biographies, but cheap books are cheap books.
Unfortunately the thrift store had moved. It is now about a third of a block closer up the street and has animals inside as well. Not many, just two fat and lethargic cats that I saw and rumours of a handful more in the back. The problem is that I can't go to shelters. Or be around animals that need homes. Or really admit to myself that there are disadvantaged animals anywhere ever. So after petting the fat and friendly cat (and taking a peek at the fat and reputedly snarly cat who wasn't coming out of his little unibomber-cat bunker) I started to tear up a bit and made a hasty retreat. Dissapointing, because it was a good store from what I recall before. I just don't think that my family would be too pleased to meet yet another cat that Sonya couldn't part with. 8.5 cats is more than enough.

...and that was Arrested Development.

2006-01-24T12:01:00.000-05:00

Covet is such a strong word...

On one hand, I was recently very mean to someone without intending to be and so I have been feeling guilty and quite amused. On the other hand, despite my questionable deserving of these things, I really really want new toys! Particularly:

An external Hard Drive
- at least 200GB
- preferably Mac/PC compatible.
Linux
- as long as it isn't too hard.
- I really want to avoid the new Windows Vista.
- the penguin is neat!
An Ipod
- at least 30GB
- probably 60GB
- can't decide between white or black
- an ipod needs no reason to exist. it is glorious.
A MacBook
- I will eventually need a laptop
- macs is da shizoo.

And that's basically in order of rational necessity. Well, as rational as a list like that ever is. I figure it will be about $4000 or so. *sigh* If only...

2006-01-17T21:35:00.000-05:00

Herald to the gaudy spring

To-day my dad got an unexpected little present in the mail from the USC Business school. He got his MBA there and so we are used to being occasionally hit up for donations, however we have no real connection at all. He usually has to be reminded who the mascot is, and the alumni notices tend to go straight into the trash. However this was in a little package and being the incurably curious person that I am (lets leave the cat out of this one entirely, thank you!) I announced that there was a present in the mail and that i was going to open it. Now, I know that this is going to sound like a lot of buildup for a tiny little thing, but I adore getting packages and even better if they are free and unexpected is best of all. So I tore into the tiny water-resistant envelope and reached in for ...a pack of gum? A keychain? A pill-keeper for the keychain? How old do they think he...! Mais non! It is a tiny little smaller-than-a-pack-of-the-smaller-gum-packs-you-know-the-50-cent-ones 128mb flash drive! Itis shorter than the aforementioned cheap gum packs and very rounded and it is apple red and has the USC business school logo on it and I loved it. It was the highlight of my day except for the tiny red coupe convertible british type car that I saw at the PO to-day. A very large man came out of it but i have no idea how. I love tiny convertibles, especially when they are older and less roundly plastic that most of the cars seem to be now. I've been going mad all over the internet to try and find it, but all I know is that it is British. And it was red. And tiny. And not very round, but shapely. For once in my life I was too sheepish to hang around and examine the finer details of a stranger's possessions. I don't say car, because I am rarely interested in cars. However this car and this other car are two that I have seen over the years that I managed to capture.
In other news it seems like my reading has started slipping. I'm not nearly as far along as I was last year I think. I have been reading some sonnets as well though, thanks to Tam Lin. That book reminded me of all the Shakespere I've been missing, the sonnets, Twelfth Night, Tristan and Isolde (Don't say it! Don't you dare say it!).... Anyway there are a lot of classic texts that I am completely missing out on. Despite my utter failure to properly immerse myself, I am proud that the sonnets (when I remember to read them once in awhile) seem to be posing no problems. He was a funny guy, you know.
Hopefully I will finish the Ender series before the year's end. And by "the year" I mean before July 4th. That is my little "anniversary" at least as far as bookage goes. P'raps I should make resolutions? Okay, let's see: (in no particular order)
1. Finish Ender Series
2. Finish Dune Series
3. Read one play
4. Read poetry by someone other than Will or Donne
5. Buy 2 Cds
6. Finish Quicken Entries
7. Stop being so mean to people, without actually dropping my sarastic wit
8. Eat less tuna
9. Eat more fruit/veggies
10. Resist the urge to stay up until tomorrow chatting
11. Wear hair in more interesting ways
12. Stop buying clothes/books
13. Clean. Your. Room.

This is going to be long. I was going to add, "do not succumb to moody food habits" but it would never have worked. Sometimes I just am in the mood for something and I shan't be denied. To-day I didn't eat much, a hamburger and a salad was it for the day, but then I got home after school and had three bowls of applesauce! I don't even like applesauce. The taste is fine, but the texture and little specks in it sort of freak me out. Okay, I'll leave this at that.

New year

2006-01-02T00:04:00.000-05:00

Another ringer?

So it is another year. Crystal and my sisters are in Florida. I am pretty sure that Stacy has been napped by a hobo named Freddy. Banjj is in Tijuana building houses. For the second time, I might add. He is seriously screwing the curve for celestial brownie points. Speaking of curves- academic, that is – I haven’t a clue as to where Justin is. Probably in Durock, but possibly at a wild party. He’s down like that. Lisa is mia for status reports, but that is partially due to my lack of aol-ing lately. Trillian started to annoy me with it’s constant presence. Natalia is in Duarte, so far as I know. I meant to send her the thing that I was going to send her, but I hit a few snags and the sending will have to happen at another point in time. I just have to pin her down again. Chino, not Duarte, is playing host to Rachel. On either side of the nation, we balance out the high frequency stress vibes when we are not being mentholatedly uber-cool. No, that was not really meant to make sense to anyone else. And yes, mentholatedly is a word because I said so and that’s how words get made isn’t it?
I thoroughly enjoyed this year. 2004 began shakily and rose to nice heights, but I think 2005 was definitely better. It began high and rose higher- despite the spazz-tastic pitfalls along the way. Even the pitfalls were fun though. How often do I get to leave fiftythousand frantic comments and emails while shaking like some kind of intensely shaky thing? Okay, a lot. But these times I had pretty good reason.
Making resolutions has never been a very big deal with me. It mostly seems as though if you really wanted to do something, you wouldn’t wait* until some third party came up and gave you a convenient jumping off point. However I understand the need for a little push sometimes. I am in the latter half of my room cleaning. It is a typical thing for me to start over Christmas Break, get serious about just before New Year’s, and mostly finish or give up before February. It is not just a here-or-there pickup, but an all out assault on every corner. Right now it looks rather a mess. Darkest before the dawn, and all that.
Also for Christmas I got two copies of the Kerouac that I wanted. I had a feeling that would happen. It is the side effect of telling everyone in the world that you want that book. Sometimes a couple of people in the world actually listen. However a twin completely surprised me by remembering that I wanted a poker set. It led to a late afternoon of lots of shouting as everyone tried to read the rules and tell everyone else to shut up because no one was reading them right and basically no one ever listened enough for us to figure it out so we just played from what I remembered from watching Celebrity Poker and any real cardplayer would likely be disgusted. In the end we invented a version of “Go Fish” that involved betting and such. Simple and fun.

"Old times" never come back and I suppose it's just as well. What comes back is a new morning every day in the year, and that's better. - George E. Woodberry

“Happy the man, and happy he alone,He, who can call to-day his own:He who, secure within, can say,To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived today” –John Dryden

*please, please hold off snickering about the absolute hypocrisy of my advising others to be proactive. And excuse the use of the word proactive. It is nearly as verboten as verbatim, I think.

stacythanksgiving

2005-11-24T14:46:00.000-05:00

stacythanksgiving
Originally uploaded by Sunnie Green.

From Stacy, To me, To You.

2005-10-22T20:57:00.000-05:00

Implosions in the Closet

My closet fell apart three times in the past two days. That is not cool with me. My dad bought some reinforcements and such, so it looks like things are going to be solid at least for awhile. However I already had everything out all over my room so I counted shoes before I put them away(meaning: tossed and shoved them onto the floor of my tiny closet). It was a suprising display of my girl-dom, however modest.

Boots: 2 (khaki, black)
Heels: 7 (3 black, 2 white, 1 brown, 1 red)
Sandals: 4 (1 brown pseudo-leather, 1 yellow thongs, 1 green Vans thongs, 1 pair wooden viet)
Slippers: 2 (1 old lady pink, 1 Vans khaki)
Sneakers: 6 (1 red/white bowling, 1 really old white, 1 brown leathery laceups, 3 Vans: khaki, red, navy)

Other news I forgot to mention: I keep some empty bottles of my favourite kosher grape juice in a wine rack. It's been knocked over more than a few times lately, and I noticed that there was some liquid left in one. I opened it and took a sniff and am pretty sure that it fermented. It smelled a lot like apple cider vinegar. Sort of pretty. Anyway I know that accident-fermentation is vastly different than on-purpose fermentation, but now I want to try and make wine. It sounds fun and educational. And you all know that those are my favourite activities.
I still haven't made cookies. My baking record is not awesome so I am being cowardly on the start-up. It always turns out edible, but some times better than others. Of course my pizza making was the low point.
Halloween is coming and I still have no costume. I have a few dresses with potential. But that potential requires sewing and accessories. And I think that sewing by hand is not my favourite thing right now. I really want a sewing machine but I just can't bring myself to spend the cash... Says the girl who bought a totally unneccessary hat not long ago and has a serious book-buying issue.
My mini chocolate sort of cheesecake things with raspberry topping turned out tastily even though the philo dough was pretty far gone.
Regaining contact with old friends is great, especially when you find out that they haven't changed all that much. And even better, you have both changed in very similar ways. Excepting, of course, certian preferences that have evolved in order to preserve the species and such.
This has not been such a good post, despite the information-packed-ness. I dislike the listing thing but it gets the job done. Soon I will write something at least pseudo-fancy. And something a little less full of hyphens.

2005-10-21T19:57:00.000-05:00

Inconveniently Sane

So I have been pressed into updating, finally.
The light fixture at work smelled like burning and burning and made me feel ill. Then it sort of exploded. Sparks were involved.
I made mini chocolate cheesecake-ish things with raspberry sauce and chocolate. There was no recipe, as usual. I just sort of made it up as I went along. The second batch was prettier than the first. I am used to there being more people at home though and so there are too many.
Someone at school who I have been getting to know a bit turns out to be the friend of a former twin boyfriend. Of course that doesn't narrow it down very much, but it does mean that there is a good chance I have seen him before(as he has been in my house) and never realized it. Very odd, considering.
We've been reading Poe in English class so I was finally in the mood for a horror novel. There was a lonely, sort of florid-looking book laid next to the bookshelves at the thrift store- so I bought it. I like it when I don't have to choose a book and it just presents itself. Although I don't think I will be worshiping the genre anytime soon, it was much better than I thought it would be. It started off rather slowly but quickly became interesting and, dare I say, sort of compelling.
I love Poe. Really. Not that I'm asking Voltaire to step down, just shove over a bit. Poe has been around longer. Ever since fifth grade or so. There were some strange books in that Elementary school library of ours. The Poe marathon was much better than the Nancy Drew competition.
I've always been pretty partial to Serendipity. However I wouldn't be too disappointed if she were to lay off a bit. Any more coincidences or kismet and I think I might have a heart attack. It made taking a stress test to-day in psychology rather amusing.
Tomorrow I am planning on making some kind of cookie. I'm not sure what though. I just picked up various things from Walmart as I thought of them, and also some yeast so that I can make pizza or pretzels in the near future.
Crystal, I think I have stopped spazzing for now. Consider me on the rebound. That is, until I have to make toast in the morning. I am pretty sure that the toaster is in league with the telephone and they are out to get me.
Also I have no idea what or where I'm going to be for Halloween. Usually I have some vague idea at this point. This year I have nothing. I'd like to go out and do something but I haven't a clue what there is to do. I could probably go out with the people from work if I wanted, but we will see. Most of them do not seem to be in the proper spirit. I don't think that they are dressing up and that is the best part. Any ideas for a costume? Anyone? I have plenty of clothes and a void of ideas. Here's hoping that something comes up.

2005-10-10T22:48:00.000-05:00

"A Witty Saying Proves Nothing."

Voltaire. He begat my personal motto as well as an industry of writing in defense of personal beliefs or lack thereof.
Thoreau. Penman of the naturalists' bible. He indulged in simplicity, and it was not an oxymoron.
Voltaire feeds my cynicism and reason. Thoreau nurtures the "flower child" and the dreamer in me. Where do they coincide?
Voltaire is my trumpets, fireworks, passion, purple majesty, logic, marble statues, scales, ink, bevy of paper and piano keys, footsteps in the courthouse, tongue-in-cheek, fires, wit, wrath, revolution, reason, conviction.
Thoreau is my green and gold, soft ferns, cold water, singing, river pebbles, cobblestones, pencil shavings, laughter, solitude, friends, fresh-cut firewood, arched eyebrows, calm, serenity, reality.
Now I'm off to decide what my personal philosphy is. Or, failing that, invent one.

"Sarah: 'It's not fair!'
Jareth: 'You say that so often, I wonder what your basis for comparison is.' "

2005-10-07T23:09:00.000-05:00

Between Reading

That current reading list is an utter lie. War and Peace, it's on the shelf for now. I love it but the length was just becoming a frustration. Maybe if they had W&P reading groups, where we could all trudge along together. Same thing goes for Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell. I love both books. They are wonderful, but also far too big to take anywhere. Thus the long reading is made even longer.
So I am between books for now. I think it is a good thing, because ... well for no reason except that it feels nice to have no anchors on my mind, if you'll excuse the rough analogy. I think I might just wait for a book to come along. There are some that are still waiting to be read, like Mere Christianity (CS Lewis), but maybe a book will just come naturally. It's been known to happen. If nothing else then maybe someone will suggest something. Because I am out of ideas (not really) and tired of thinking about it(really).
Is blogging, when you are not a writer extraordinaire, so awful? It seems to have attracted some negative connotations along the way. I don't list who has done what to whom and this is the new that, but I don't exactly add to the would-be silence with what I have to say either. Oh well. I like that I can write whatever I like and use way too many commas. There are just times when I need to ramble and this way it helps the few of you know what is going on in my head. It's good for the long-distance thing.
But other people's heads is a whole 'nother story. Today was blustery and fun, but it left my hair more tangled than usual so I put it in braids when I got to work. I'm used to the occasional perverse innuendo, and moreso from the people who work with me(but with more friendly intentions than not). However there is something about 'pigtails' that brings out something awful in middle aged men. Really disturbing. I heard far more about the benefits of looking like Pippi than I ever cared to know. Braids are convenient, but I wonder if they are worth it.
And Walmart is not the best place to try and wait out a storm. I walked around energetically for twenty minutes longer than I should have trying to squish the water out of my shoes. Only to run through a puddle. I did realize, though, that I've never been in the toy section. Or the Music. Or the Movies. Or pretty much anywhere that isn't food or shampoo. I never hang around Walmart very long. In fact I tend to avoid it. Therefore I haven't seen most of the store. And they don't carry the sewing machine I want. At least I didn't see it there.
G'nite.

2005-10-06T16:17:00.000-05:00

The Life of Pi

"Love is hard to believe, ask any lover. Life is hard to believe, ask any scientist. God is hard to believe, ask any believer. What is your problem with hard to believe?"

"It is not atheists who get stuck in my craw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for a while. We must all pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we. If Christ spent an anguished night in prayer, if He burst out from the Cross, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" then surely we are also permitted to doubt. But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation."

"Atheists are my brothers and sisters of a different faith, and every word they speak speaks of faith. Like me, they go as far as the legs of reason will carry them -- and then they leap."

"I can well imagine an atheist's last words: "White, white! L-L-Love! My God!"--and the deathbed leap of faith. Whereas the agnostic, if he stays true to his reasonable self, if he stays beholden to dry, yeastless factuality, might try to explain the warm light bathing him by saying, "Possibly a f-f-failing oxygenation of the b-b-brain" and, to the very end, lack imagination and miss the better story."

A good book with some very good quotes. Heartwarming- in a depressing, drawn out way. He's been compared to Hemingway but I think that's unfair to both of them.
Also I may or may not be seeing NYC over spring break. There was some fortuitous cosmic scheduling so we shall see. Cross your fingers and/or selves for me, because I would love to take a trip so long as it doesn't include Amtrak or Greyhound. I am still not on speaking terms with either system. The retail vortex which I am paid to let corrode my existence has a whole bunch of free stuff this past week. I have come home with innumerable post-it pads, hilighters, semi-awful pens in nice colours, and decent pens in boring colours.
Lahdee. dah. I wanted to post something interesting, since I haven't had the most compelling stories lately excepting a few mishaps, hence the quotes. It is sad to not have some fantastic insights or drama to talk about though. Minus the drama I guess, because if there was I wouldn't post it anyway. I would just tell one of you directly. Except Benjamin because he is inacessable 97.876% of the time. And for no good reasons, like detainment in Botswana and black market kumquat dealings. Natalie is buried under a pile of books and dead scientists and numbers that people made up, but she at least sends a flare every now and then.
And what? I've started eating out a bit more often, partly because there seems to be very little to eat at home at any given time and partly because I like having leftovers to eat later on. Except fries. They are awful when reheated. I re-discover that every time.
Yesterday I went to lunch with interesting company and it reminded me of my ice cream melting before I finished it at Lisa's house. I kept thinking and forgetting to eat. There was another one of those fantastic spontaneous downpours though.
Still no sewing machine, though we nearly got one at Walmart and again nearly got one after church in Jacksonville, but we didn't know where Tuesday Morning was. I love Tuesday Morning. Wednesday is still my favourite day of the week, but Tuesday Morning is such a nice name for a store. There's a sweet, lyrical quality to it.
Mais maintenant j'ai faim. Je pense que Ma mere et moi, nous irons a taco bell. J'ai voulu voir si je pourrais. Je ne peux pas. Le futur temps, c'est.... eugh. Et le passe aussi. Je suis une etudiant tres mal quand je l'etudie.
None of the accents wanted to work, so that at least is not my own failing. If nothing else. Anyhow. Hungry, &tc.

Flickr is My Pal

2005-09-30T21:51:00.000-05:00

Sonjahmerges copy
Originally uploaded by Sunnie Green.

I Love Flickr in the Springtime...

Hey I was teaching myself to use the Pen tool on Photoshop because it was the one thing that I just couldn't get to do what I wanted. Though I'm nowhere near proficient I must say that it is an Amazing tool. Everything looks prettier.

2005-09-29T13:07:00.000-05:00

I See Bookcases in my Future... and Present... and Past

A culturally sanctioned excuse for my primary mania:

Book collecting is an obsession, an occupation, a disease, an addiction, a fascination, an absurdity, a fate. It is not a hobby. Those who do it must do it. Those who do not do it think of it as a cousin of stamp collecting, a sister of the trophy cabinet, bastard of a sound bank account and a weak mind.
- Jeanette Winterson

I wonder if I could get social security or one of those Handicapped placards? Such as I are usually labouring under a massive pile of books and a good parking space would help make the trip from car to door and vice versa a lot easier.

2005-09-20T15:07:00.000-05:00

Smile, it makes people wonder what you are thinking.

I recently internet-stalked myself into a corner. When I meet someone interesting or have information on a person who might be worth "investigating", I have an awful habit of hunting them down through cyberspace. But once in a while it turns out badly. Knowing secondhand information about a person can be very distracting or disturbing. Hopefully I've learned my lesson. I know that I haven't. It's too easy.
Also I lost my information sheet about the Dance studio in a town near here and that is sad. Not that there is much chance of my going anytime soon. I haven't anyone who would be willing to go with me and I'm far too chicken to go it alone. The lottery system has never been kind to me.

2005-09-13T13:29:00.000-05:00

I would give you violets

Hurricaine Ophelia. Remember, all of us, that changing her mind is a lady's privilege. However I don't think that anyone supposed that a pseudo-feminine tropical storm would abuse the honour so flagrantly. Although the hurricaine has been directly aimed at my house for the past week or so, it has been hovering out at sea for just about as long. When it hasn't been hovering, it has been moving about 3mph in a wishy-washy fashion -- no pun intended.
Classes were cancelled for today through an email late last night. It rained that night for a little while, thrashing and everything, and I thought that we were finally in for it. An hour and a half later the rain stopped. This morning it was dry and sunny and lovely, later partially covered with a beautiful gray cloud blanket.
There's an emergency HAM Radio meeting this evening to discuss plans and stuff. Getting volunteers for the emergency communications station and planning evacuation routes. Although this area seems better prepared than what we have heard of the Katrina debaucle, there is definately some less than genuis at work as well. The evacuation place prepared is near or in a city by the name of Sea Level. Yes, a Coastal City called Sea Level. As in, the same level as the ocean. As in the worst, most stupid place to head towards during flooding.
Personally I think I will head away from the water if I see it heading this way. Preferably with a number of my personal belongings. But that's just me.

2005-09-06T19:05:00.000-05:00

Blathering, anyone?

I uploaded some random pictures today. I should have been studying for a psychology quiz/test thing. I have to miss that class tomorrow because of a Dentist appointment. This is a very uninteresting post. Its main function is the link that I already posted. However I have decided that everyone has a few things that initially attract them to a person, or spark interest. I am sure that I am not the first to make this novel assumption. I was wondering, though, if anyone has stopped to think what little things pique their interest in another person? I don't mean talking to someone and finding out you both love the colour mauve and eating fajitas. I mean seeing another person walk down the street or answer a question and think; 'hey, she/he seems worth knowing.'
Now this is not something that came out of the blue of course. It was something that I started thinking of in relation to someone that I was avoiding thinking of because it isn't healthy to dwell on someone you barely know. Not even if they did try to attack you with a taco and wear a very cunning hat.
In other news, there is no other news. I have a package that is almost a year overdue to be mailed (Justin) and a pile of letters/notes that are about 6 months overdue and still accumulating (Natalie). There are some very nice vending machines in a student lounge on "campus" that I recently discovered.
The End.

ps. I hope to make a more coherent and possibly even interesting(oh, don't you laugh!) post in the near future. 'Near being relative to what?' you may say. 'I don't know,' I reply.

2005-08-25T21:28:00.000-05:00

There are no pockets in a Shroud.
I don't want to do my homework! I don't want to do my homework- lalalala!
Not much has been going on. I bought some CDs from the Salvation Army. The Cranberries, Wilco, Train, and Third Eye Blind. Decent condition. A dollar apiece. Of course this is ignoring the fact that it is really super rare that I would actually listen to a CD. Too much hassle. Also a copy of Wuthering Heights, which I am 75% sure I don't already have. This month is supposed to be the month of Frugality and already that has failed. Last month's credit bill was astronomical. And it wasn't because I lost my credit card and someone bought a new car. (I found my card later that night, in a picture pocket of my wallet) It was $255 of my clothes, books, and clothes and books. I got a little fast and loose with my miserly ideals and spent a bit more than usual on pants and shirts before splurging online for some books that I've been wanting.
One day I will catch up on my spending. Maybe. Possibly. If there's nothing good on Tv.
In better news I've set up a revolving CD which means I'll be getting better interest than the darned savings account. But that is probably less interesting to people who are not me.
I did well on a math quiz and actually talked to other people today. There is a guy in one of my classes that looks like a loan shark and my American Lit teacher looks completely freaked out every day of class. I feel like I should hand her an airsick bag.
And I'm just rambling. My Russian is going better, my reading of Persuasion is going worse. I just can't get interested in it.
I should go to bed soonish.

2005-08-16T21:30:00.000-05:00

The Queen's English

Though this might seem a bit funny from someone rather lagging in their college career, and well versed in the generic response of "Anthropology" when asked about a major, I've been thinking a lot about what exactly I want to do. It's one of those things that you don't think about when making an important and vague choice. Saying at fifteen years old that you want to make movies seems perfectly clear until you are twenty and find out that you can be a director or set designer or scriptwriter or lighting coordinator but there is no way that someone can give you a bunch of cameras and fifteen lackeys and let you make a film. It just won't happen, because someone has to tell the actors which underwear to put on (or off) and someone has to pay them to do it. Anyhow I'm getting over-analogous.
I was watching Love Actually just now on the computer so naturally I was feeling rather Brittish in the end and decided to look up Brittish regional accents. Looking through them I was recognising certain distinctions that I already knew. The addition of the "r" at the end of certain words to sound educated and metropolitan (idea-r, saw-r) or the old-fashioned "proper" speech that you hear from the old ladies in English movies. Of course they all had putridly bland names like "recieved pronunciation" and "estuary english", but nonetheless they were categorized much like I had expected. It made me think about how interesting all the different dialects were, and also that learning a particular accent should probably be secondary to my Russian. Or French. Or Greek. But that's neither here nor there.
The point is I have been thinking a lot about what aspect of Anthropology I would want to study, because one can't do everything. Mostly I've been veering towards religion, because it's an endless pile of awfully fascinating dirty laundry. But now I'm starting to think about linguistics. It's easy to get bogged down on the nuances of a mourning ritual, but there's only so far you can examine the pronounciation of the letter "A". That way maybe I'll be able to keep moving.
Here's to being poor and having lots of books; any Anthropologist's reluctant destiny- unless they write a very good book, a rich uncle dies, or they are a lady and can marry rich. I love that we always have that option. Cheers.

2005-08-12T16:50:00.000-05:00

More pictures from my Historic Journey. Although Flickr wouldn't let me upload everything, I like the setup better than Photobucket.
Umm... This isn't very interesting. News, news. Oh I've spent way too much this month. At least twice what I usually spend. On the upside, spending means I get new shirts, a Kenneth Cole wallet (two actually), the book I have been pining for since forever, the book that completes the series I've been reading, a reluctant car tank of gas, and I don't know what else.
Also, I'm trying out contacts. Even if I stay with them it will be a mostly part-time gig. Here's how the benefits are laid out:
70%: being able to wear sunglasses and see more than two feet in front of me at the same time.
20%: Getting to use my Kenneth Cole glasses case, which reminds me of how much I like Kenneth Cole.
10%: wearing eye makeup and others being able to see it.

I'm not a designer whore or anything. I only splurged on the KC Glasses because I hadn't had a new pair in about 3 years. Also, we had good eye insurance.

EDIT: Here are some self-portraits, as of a few seconds ago. I am not drunk. Only tired and sunburnt.

2005-08-07T23:07:00.000-05:00

Why is no more magic done in England?

"...[He] explained that the Question was the wrong one. 'It presuposes that magicians have some sort of duty to do magic - which is clearly nonsense. You would not, I imagine, suggest that it is the task of botanists to devise more flowers? Or that astronomers should labour to rearrange the stars? Magicians, Mr. Segundus, study magic that was done long ago. Why should any one expect more?' "
-Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norell, by Susanna Clarke

It's an odd picture, and clearly misslabeled, however this is 2 sisters and me as we finished our day in Williamsburg. The picture turned out well enough, though it was kindof awkward to try and fit in multiple bus seats. It was a bit whirlwind but I think we got most everything done satisfactorally. Williamsburg, Jamestowne, and Yorktown. Many pictures hopefully to follow. Eventually.

2005-07-31T22:36:00.000-05:00

"Arrakis teaches the attitude of the knife

-chopping off what's incomplete and saying: 'Now, it's compete because it's ended here.' " from "Collected Sayings of Muad'Dib" by the Princess Irulan

So I've been sadly neglectful of my 2.5 readers, haven't I? Other than reading Dune, searching out the other books of the series, and planning a trip to Williamsburg I really haven't been up to all that much. However Williamsburg is kind of a big deal for me.
When I was nine or ten I read the American Girl series. They are a series of ... series about girls about that age, but in different time periods throughout American history. It used to be really cool because there are dolls for each of the girls (I have Kirsten) and six stories each, now Matel owns it and it's gone all lame and corporate and politically correct. Anyway the colonial times were by far the most interesting in the series.
Later, when I was twelve or thirteen we got a book of states. Yeah - we rarely (okay, never) got non-educational "toys" when I was a kid. Each state had a spread about all the facts and mottos and a brief history as well as an article about what is special about that particular state. When I got to Virginia the article talked about a town called "Williamsburg" where people dressed in period clothing and the entire town was basically a historical site. This was just about the coolest thing I'd ever heard of and I've been wanting to go ever since.
At first I think I thought it was more like a 24-hour thing where people had resigned themselves to live in squalor and fantastic costumes but I have had many years to resign myself to the fact that there is probably running water and some Nikes. Either way I hope that it is a good trip. I don't care about seeing everything yet, I just need to go and see what there is to see.

2005-07-18T11:42:00.000-05:00

Just a thought

"Have you ever seen somebody you don't know, again? Like G~d is running out of extras in the movie or your life or something." - Some guy on Comdedy Central

2005-07-13T10:52:00.000-05:00

Wraping it up

My First Year in North Carolina; A summary in list form.

An average of 3 - 3.5 books per month, depending on whether you count the Ultimate Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy as one or five books since it was just all 5 of the trilogy together in one volume.
Worked at Staples for nearly a year. Aug 04 - Jul 05, and counting.
Got very behind on keeping my financial records
Caught up about 30% on financial records
Hollowed out seven eggs, painted three, made 2 papier mache eggs, and lost one.
Bought new computer
Enrolled at the community college
Paid 600+ dollars for each of two classes
Learned how to use scholarship money
Enrolled in summer session, used Scholarship to pay.
Two classes in-state cost $400 less than one class out of state.
Unpacked 52+ boxes over the course of 3 months for my room.
Made boba
contemplated ipod and/or cell phone ownership
Swore off carbonated beverages due to humidity and body's need for real water.
Fell off wagon like drunk man at hayride.
Mourned distance of shopping district
Mourned absence of good thrift stores
Mourned inability to teleport
Found Orthodox church 2 hours away
found Orthodox church 1 hour away
Other stuff happened also.

2005-07-05T20:58:00.000-05:00

The First Day of the Second Year

So to-day is(was) the first day of my second year in North Carolina. Time flies. I can't really think of anything to say on that subject so instead I thought I'd mention this:
Natalie, one day I will visit you out in SD. It will be about this time of year. And we will GO TO A COMIC-CON! Because it would be fun, yes?

2005-07-02T20:43:00.000-05:00

The Tour Started To-day!

Alexandre Vinokourov

Thomas Voeckler

Jan Ulrich

Lance Armstrong

These are my guys. I can't decide if I want Lance to win. It would be great, but I can't help thinking about how happy That-mountain-of-a-man-Jan would be if he got to beat Lance. He's gotten so close. If Lance doesn't win, then I hope Ulrich does. I think. Hopefully I won't regret it. I've liked Vino since forever (okay, since a few years back.) and I know Voeckler is kindof a trendy pick since his stint in the yellow last year, but I liked his plucky little self. Anyway that's that.

2005-06-29T00:53:00.000-05:00

I hope Atlas is just on a coffee break.

The Supreme Court has made stupid decisions before. Abortion, Teen Execution, that whole Dred Scott thing. I'm hoping that Congress does something- it would be well within their power. Meanwhile I really hope that these people give dear Justice Souter a run for his ~~money~~ house.

On Monday June 27, Logan Darrow Clements, faxed a request to Chip Meany the code enforcement officer of the Towne of Weare, New Hampshire seeking to start the application process to build a hotel on 34 Cilley Hill Road. This is the present location of Mr. Souter's home.
The proposed development, called "The Lost Liberty Hotel" will feature the "Just Desserts Café" and include a museum, open to the public, featuring a permanent exhibit on the loss of freedom in America. Instead of a Gideon's Bible each guest will receive a free copy of Ayn Rand's novel "Atlas Shrugged."

The Sisters are back from California. Weather was perfect and they had a decent time I guess. They got some really cute free stuff from someone's mother and/or hairstylist older brother. yeah, that's what I thought too. Puppysammy got to see their would-be classmates graduate and go to grad night and do some of the senior activities lacking in their NC school. On the way back they befriended a man from Newport. When the plane was preparing to land in Raleigh he looked down and said, "That's a city?" Yeah.

2005-06-21T22:50:00.000-05:00

I feel old. Like Hills and Cheeses and the cask of amontillado...

Or, you know, not. That's a great Poe, though. So I'm eight days into twenty and it's rather surreal. Technically to not be a teenager anymore is odd. I don't like it. It's all downhill from here. Hopefully not in a literal "life is about to suck" sense, but there is a hovering expectation for time to start moving faster now. I hope the new decade exceeds expectations.
Also, I got bangs. I don't like them. They remind me of the bangs everyone had in 7-8th grade. thin, round, and often parted in the middle unless hairsprayed. I think I'm going to try playing with them a bit. Maybe snipping here or there. I would take a picture but my sisters took the camera with them to CALIFORNIA. Yes, they are there now. Eating Sweet Basil Pizza(bleh) and indulging in public transit(sigh).
In other news: I've been neglecting to say THANKYOU to Natalie and Crystal for their presents. They are awesome and when I got them, much coolness ensued.

2005-06-17T18:29:00.000-05:00

Nearly A Year

It doesn't feel anywhere close to a year. Of course, I'm not good at time or ages or distance. Measurement has never been my strong suit.
June 26th will be the anniversary of the day we "left" Cali. Now, I don't think we actually made it out of the state, however we were definately on our way.
On July 4th it will be the anniversary of the day we arrived here in the backwater they call the "Crystal Coast". From the beginning I dubbed it the ingrown toenail of the east coast (the geography of the place is terrible) and I have not yet been proven wrong. I still can't tell north from south from east from west at knifepoint.

I am trying to finish the books on my "now reading" list and make a clean break of it. Right. I am still convinced that War and Peace doesn't actually have an ending.

2005-06-10T15:22:00.000-05:00

Free Stuff? Where?

Have some good summer music? Have some free time?

Participate in the Summer Burn

I wonder if I have finally hit the point of no return for the cheesey environmentalism that is the "Captain Planet" Theme Song. It came up on my playlist and I couldn't listen to it all the way through. Not even halfway into singing along I became ashamed and hit "next".
A sad landmark on the dreary road to grown-up-edness.

2005-06-07T21:38:00.000-05:00

EurekaEurekaEurekaShazaam!

I made boba! Not the decent, yet generally flavourless kind that I made last time. Real boba. Tasty boba. boba that would make water taste good if you are too cheap to buy a milk tea or only have a handful of change with which to buy something.
Luckily I also managed to make a really awesome smoothie. Like Jamba juice only not as sweet. So good. Like Orange Julius meets Tapioca Express.
Also yesterday I made salsa and guacamole. Actually, I made salsa and we ate it all except the bigger bits that no-one wanted because it was like just sticking a limp veggie in your mouth so I used those leftovers for the guacamole, or avacado dip, if you prefer. Anyway I'm on a roll.
I want a food processor.

2005-06-03T20:37:00.000-05:00

Procrastin-what?

Because anything is cute when it's plush!

Since I am not yet geek enough

I love binary. Don't judge me.

The truth will yet you free.

If they would just let me put this up at work, I would be so happy.

There is very little as intriguing as Schrodinger's Cat.

In other news, we bought a pretty teak table for the deck, I preordered the Harry Potter book, and got the Hitchhicker's Guide to the Galaxy series(all in one volume). That's about it.
Also, this is my new desktop. I share because it is cool, and not because you were all wondering when I would change the Gilmore Girls Luke& Lorelai one that has been up for a month now. Because you didn't know. Until now. This is also a cool desktop I had awhile back. It was probably one of my favourites. They are both from penny arcade. I am not a gamer, but it is still funny.< /uselessinfo >

2005-05-30T21:34:00.000-05:00

Bits and Bobs, not Pieces and Larries.

If anyone ever complains to me about their computer crashing from this point on, I shall laugh in their face. I have crashed my computer somewhere between fifty and fiftymillion times to-day. Each time was because I had the audacity to think that my Brand New Computer should be able to multitask- excepting once when the power went out and the computer shut itself down, which it wasn't supposed to do! That's why I have that big battery surge protector thing. WMM is for crap.
I planted a few herbs, but like my mother I am feeling very ignorant of the horticulture here. In other words, I dunno wha's gon' grow and what ain't. There are a bunch of old terra cotta pots, which I love, under our deck that I used for potting. I tried to be safe so I planted two Oreganos, three parsley, a cherry tomato, and ... I think that's it. After reading a bit more I think I'm going to try Rosemary(which I miss from our sprawling bushes of it in Cali) and Basil. Lavender would be nice but I don't know what its chances are.
I saw the Aviator last night and would anyone mind telling me why it won ... anything? It was good, and LeoDC was good although maybe a little miscast, but it wasn't remarkable. The best part of the entire thing was Cate B.'s portrayal of the Great Kate, despite looking very little like her. I didn't like her at first, but I think it was mostly just the hair because later on I liked her quite well indeed. I think Leo still looks too much like a baby boy to play a character that ages through the movie. Not a very believable forty-year-old. The cinematography was nice in a few places though. Anyway I was a bit let down.

2005-05-27T21:03:00.000-05:00

I want an ipod so badly..

I am trying my best not to just cave and buy one, especially since I am not the person who sits around listening to music. When I am listening to music it is because I need a little bit of detachment, or because a soundtrack just seems appropriate. When I'm on the bus or cleaning house- there's always something on. But in the mall? At dinner? During school? Those are times when I need to be aware. My special place could get severely jostled if I'm looking inward when I should be noticing the runaway kiosk heading down the escalator straight for me.
Speaking of dinner, I don't know how many people have the traditional sit-down meal anymore. Growing up it was not a rarity to miss dinner- but it was at least for a special reason. Despite the attendance requirement there really wasn't (isn't) any semblance of proper family time. Dinner is sitting with nearly everyone (someone is always out of their seat getting milk, ketchup, salt, or whatever) and the radio blasting and the tv humming in the background. Before we begin, or sometimes in the middle if we realize it's been forgotten, someone has to say grace. Unless it's my mother speaking, (standing, not sitting, because she is ready to bolt for the salt/milk/ketchup/whatever) the the grace is short. Ten or fifteen minutes after the radio program's commercial break when we said the blessing, everyone is finished. Table deserted, food half-eaten, like the Aslan's table. The Metaphor continues, because not long after the tupperware is filled, the kitchen-trolling begins and the leftovers are picked over before they are even cold.
Further related to dinner, though not mine and far less enjoyable. To-day I got to work nearly exactly on time and in a good mood. The birds were singing and the sun was out but not too warm. When I got out of the car I heard a chip-chip-chip that seemed like a bird. There's a marshy preserve directly alongside our parking lot and I've always liked to look at it before ducking into the dark cavern of retail. There was something a bit off about the chirping though, and I thought the bird might be hurt or maybe I was lucky enough to have noticed a nest. I walked to the edge of the marsh (tick-tock, about to be late) and saw what I thought was a bit of hose. Then a squirrel making an odd face. (tick-tock-tick...) I hate the litter that is everywhere, moreso even because it is mostly ciggarette butts that create a sickening carpet on what was once a very nice oasis in shoppingland. (tock-tick-tock, oh my) But that was not the kind of sound a squirrel should ever make. Not even a foot from my feet there was a snake twisted around the tiny thing. It's face was shocked and towards me, lifted a little, still crying.
I paused, wanting to grab a stick and pull the snake away. Hours of The Crocodile Hunter made me toy with the idea of reaching for its tail. Finally I ran inside, a little late, and tried to be composed. I tried to tell the other cashier what I'd seen and couldn't. "There was a snake eating a squirrel out there" "wow, was it putting it in it's mouth? ... actually that's kindof sad." I nodded, and went to the bathroom because I couldn't stay there. I'm still crying now. And some people have asked why I couldn't be a vet...
On a lighter side, I really wish I had thought to date a book every time I read it. I don't like writing on/in/near books, but that would've been awesome. Also I wish that I had read Salinger years ago, if Sarah Brown's wisdom holds true.

2005-05-17T16:54:00.000-05:00

Of similar minds

Something my Dad sent me in an email from work:

/"Fighting the anathema of mindless enthusiasm
through rigorous application of boundless cynicism
and destructive obedience."/

2005-05-12T22:18:00.000-05:00

Scitzoid Crafter

So remember how I mentioned that I had lapsed with my crocheting, my knitting, my Russian, and my costuming(not mentioned, but true)? Sure you do. Well now I am making people out of paperclips during work to amuse myself. There's an old wirecutter that has been at the front desk for ages and I have found it invaluable. Also, I have taken Russian back up(kinda, sorta, mostly.) and I'm cross-stitching a pillow. Not that I've dropped the papier mache, per se, because there's still a bowl of glue and water and soggy newspaper sitting on my floor. It's just waiting for the wind to change.
And it's not that I have any particular talent in any of this, but I don't have not talent either. I usually fall somewhere between mediocre and decent. It's just that I'm not a "take it slow" sort of person. I tend to decide what I want to do(ie: cross-stitching a pillow), start, make a hideous mess of thread about halfway through the first letter, rip it out, and begin again for good. It looks pretty so far. Messy on closer inspection though, since I'm not even very sure where the line is between "cross-stitch" and just "trying to make letters with thread".
Anywho, here's hoping something sticks.

2005-05-10T23:46:00.000-05:00

Squeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee............!!!!!!!!

I'm on a total high right now. The sad thing is that it's almost, well okay, all Gilmore Girls related. To-day was a really good episode and ended well(as in good), in a bad way(for those characters involved.) Translation:quality TV. Also I made a prediction about who was going to propose to whom, and some gorgeous cretinous spoiler-posting angel-o-mine put the answers up on the LJ post about the episode to-day. I didn't have to look. I tried not to look. I didn't look.
That is until someone's icon caught my eye. Then I had to scroll the page and I cracked like a hard boiled egg at Pascha. I was soooo right and it's awesome. I need a thesaurus to pop up whenever I use that word or any other overused pop-culture induced expletive.

Kristos Enesti!

EDIT: Also I got to quote Othello to-day! Someone didn't wear his nametag and there was mild banter ( asked him if he wanted to remain anonymous bc itwas a possible mystery shop day, etc) and he disregaded the usefulness of his name. Lo! and Sonya doth smite his flippant disregard with her vast intellect. ( Or at least a quote she had picked up from a recent issue of Fortune Magazine, a few days ago. )
" Who steals my purse steals trash....
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed."

And I was bloody accurate too. Mostly. Except inserting a "very" into the last line. I always do that.
Back at the office [store] I am met with blank, bemused, befuddled looks. "It's from Othello!" figuring that if they don't recognize it I can take the opportunity to sound as if I am a foutain of such wisdom on a regular basis. Playing it cool isn't quite kosher, but it is what helps me keep my reputation as the eccentric, bookish girl who sings along with the Muzak(it's actually not, mostly it's fifties and sixties classics) and dances in the aisles.

Also... there was something else.... I don't remember. I am shocked and amazed at the lack of my friends with Amazon dot com wishlists. It's terrible. I have two, maybe three, because I seem to forget every so often.

EDIT II: I remember now! I had to stop reading my Volga book because it was due(yeah, like any of you guys look at my booklist.. anyway) and I knew I wasn't interested enough to finish it quickly. However on Monday I picked up "The Time Traveler's Wife" and it was awesome(see link above) and made me cry. Partly sometimes because I've been kindof into papier mache since my knitting and crocheting and Russian aren't going so well, since I need mentors/tutors/fellow students to do any of those things properly. I made two papier mache eggs sans eggshell on Easter and I was awfully proud of myself. They are a bit bumpy but are very much egg-shaped and sturdy. Also I hollowed out seven real eggs, saving them from omlettes and crepes, and painted three. I used a kleenex at first but then it was making the paint clumpy. on the third one I tried putting a large dollop on the egg and blowing it around the surface. It made a really lovely finish but I ended up super dizzy and sat on the bed because I thought I was going to pass out.

EDIT III: The point of telling you about the story was that I was supposed to drop nonchalantly in a totally thrilled way that I got the Time Traveler book(not impulse really, I've been wanting it for months now) for $1.99 in once-read condition at the Salvation Army. I love that place.

2005-05-03T20:04:00.000-05:00

It's on fire guys, what should I do?

L'Inventaire Fantome is something you should see. Amazing, the things that can be done with some ingenuity. I know I missed at least half the short script, since my French has disintegrated into "J'espere que tu te noie", "qu'est-ce que c'est?" and "Donne moi le remote control" but it was fantastic regardless.

Earlier this week we had an incident in the kitchen. By "incident" I mean we were watching tv in the living room and my mom called to us "It's on fire, what should I do?"
"Huh?" "What? What's burning?"
A quick exodus to the kitchen revealed 3-foot flames(not huge, but much larger than we were accustomed to having on our electric stovetop) leaping from the pan my mum was making chicken in. We opened all the windows and contemplated the situation.
"Don't put water on it, that 's grease right?"
Eventually the flames died down. Suprisingly, the chicken was just fine.

Later, I made crepes and turned them into funky blintzes. They weren't thin enough but I made a cream cheese/sugar/vanilla/sour cream filling that is much less disgusting than it sounds, wrapped them up, and sprinkled powdered sugar on top. Baked then broiled the sugar made the tops crispy. I'm rotten at following directions. Luckily, when I make it all up as I go along everything seems to turn out well.
There was also blackberry jam. I love jam.

To-day was the last day of my British authors class. We met at a local coffee house(mediocre at best) and shared stories, passages, and whatever came into discussion. There are a few people in the class that have some amazing stories, talent, or both. At the end I shared Hemingway's quote describing Fitzgerald's relationship to his writing:
" His talent was as natural as the pattern that was made by the dust on a butterfly's wings. At one time he understood it no more than the butterfly did and he did not know when it was brushed or marred. Later he became conscious of his damaged wings and of their construction and he learned to think and could not fly any more because the love of flight was gone and he could only remember when it had been effortless. "

It seemed appropriate.

2005-05-01T02:58:00.000-05:00

Kristos Anesti! Christ is Risen! Christos Voskrese!

So, I just got home from our Pascha/Easter service. It was 1130 till 3am and then refreshments! I nearly fell three times during the service, falling asleep and losing my balance. The Paschal service is very much a light-in-darkness theme, but not sad. A dark church, except the little lights for the choir to read by and the street lamps from outside. It's hard not to fiddle with the candle and make little designs with your thumbnail. Finally it is 12 o'clock and Father ...... lights the candles of the front row. Eventually it passes all the way back. A major risk with my hair down, btw. The little chapel is lit with a plethora of tiny ineffectual lights and the Father leads our procession outside. We circle the church three times, chanting and trying to protect our little candles from the inconstant wind. After re-lighting a few(four) times we give up and the less skilled of the congregation (my dad remarks that if we smoked, we'd know how to cup a flame better, but alas.) gather before the church doors and recieve a flame for the last time. A short ceremony(repeated a few times, becoming a longer ceremony) before the entrance into the church which is lit and decorated with flowers and a basket of red eggs.
A myriad of repetitions later, each time slightly funnier than the last as we got more and more tired, we took communion and broke fast. Dismissal, each of us leaving the chapel with a red egg and a piece of prosphora. The coffee hour was filled with baskets of food, and after the Father had blessed them we all gathered 'round. Mostly it was a collection of the tradtional sweetish bread I have no name for, more red eggs, and feta. There was lamb and more sausage than I'd ever seen outside Solvang. I tried a bit of kielbasa, and although it was goodish I guess I'm just not a sausage person.
Just like Palm Sunday seems to be the start of spring- a clean, fresh, airy holiday full of light and life- Easter is a light in the dark of night. But even the darkness is friendly and hopeful, as if it's existance is just a promise that light will come. To-morrow(or to-day, if one wants to get particular) we are going to try and get to the Agape service. I hope we can go. There was more that I wanted to say but it will have to wait. I just hope that this came out coherently. That would be amazing. It's nearly 5am so I should head to bed.

Also, Lisa it's your birthday! Happy Birthday Lisa!

Kristos Anesti, Kyrie Eleison.

2005-04-03T21:47:00.001-05:00

Thou Shalt Not

I was mildly useless at work to-day and started looking at the mp3 players. Most of us know that I'm a bargain shopper. The bad kind. The kind where I'll buy the sort of ugly dress I'll never wear because who can turn down something at 80% off, but I don't need the cast for my fractured limb because insurance won't cover it and I hardly use that arm anyway.
On top of that I'm prone to succumbing to spending sprees. "You never buy stuff anyway, so it's not like this time matters much." After telling that to myself a score of times this past christmas I ended up with a bill that I'm still reeling over a little. (Also, some of the gifts are still sitting on my bedroom floor. Either left behind or victims of procrastination.)
This is why, after wanted an ipod so badly for so long I have decided I will give myself a list of goals. For each goal accomplished I will give myself $20. There will also be a list of Goal-nots that I will take $20 away every time they occur. The system will take some fine tuning. My main problem is that I love my cd player so much. I've never been much of a CD person. It's a bit too much trouble for me and I don't own very many (too expensive). But I love that CD player. It's round and a dark silver and has never given me any trouble when I've bothered to use it. The linux penguin sticker that has stayed on it all these years is just the icing on the depressing cake of my betrayal.
However- what with the coveting and the idolatry- I really do want the Ipod. But I haven't spent all these years personifying and befriending my little Sony walkman to give it up so easily.

2005-04-01T23:21:00.000-05:00

Pope John Paul II

If it is not for him to have health, I hope that he has comfort and a good death.
.

2005-03-23T18:32:00.000-05:00

A Ray Bradbury Kind of Morning

When the air is just right. When it feels like you are walking through a warm blanket of nothing. It's like swimming, when the water is just the same temperature as the air and your skin. It's like floating- you almost believe you can breathe. This morning the dust stirred by the warm, slow breeze gave it that lonely alien aspect. The sweet surreal of a Ray Bradbury morning.
.

2005-03-16T17:51:00.000-05:00

Blake is Not Guilty!

I am so relieved. Sounds weird, but really. Poor Guy.

2005-03-01T22:40:00.000-05:00

A Library Rarely Fails to Comfort.

I found the best library ever. actually it is very much like my Ideal Home. A big historical doctor's office building. It looks like a very large, homey two story office thing and it's marvelous. I love the word marvelous. Where the Pasadena Library is the penultimate in my Ideal Study hall of Magnificent Proportions this is my Ideal Home in the Country in Which To Bring up Cunning, Clean Little Children. Perhaps not my own children. There has been too much of that talk around here of late, as everyone in the county seems to know someone in a particularly painful state of pregnancy, labour, or post-birth. All-in-all I'm quite disgusted with the entire process.

"For although some have called it the most meaningful experience of their life, for me it was akin to doing the splits-- over a crate of dynamite." - Lorelai Gilmore, Gilmore Girls

But back to the library. There is frosted glass on the back offices, which were rented out to another doctor and the entire thing is decorated... I want to say like a house but it's not. Like an old-fashioned homey office. Pretty framed photos and prints, wooden floors, rooms that in the 30s were dedicated as the gentleman's smoking rooms wherein ladies did not dare venture. Actually I think it was only one room, but both looked quite appropriate as a place for one to have a cigar and brandy. My favourite room is the upstairs room, across from the ladies bathrooms (all the bathrooms are decorated as you might find in a fashionable old lady's home, and there is one with little teeny stalls that implies women were quite petite back in the day).
That particular room, not the bathroom but the other, is where all the classics and some of the adult fiction overflow are kept. It was set up by a Stanford professor who organized all the books chronologically. He is on my list of heroes now, with a gold star even. I never thought to do it that way and I love it. I've always had such trouble sorting out eras and events in their right order and it's nice to be able to scan the shelves and see the evolution.* Mark Twain being a contemporary of Willa Gather was a suprise.
It's a sunny room with nasty flourescent lights and all the books are circulated. I hate the thought of a library circulating such old, lovely, worn hardcovers. But it's also nice. The professor insisted that all the classics be circulated. It's the kind of thing that makes one smile, before developing a nasty twitch in your eye as you imagine all the nasty, careless people who might check them out.
Also, the mysteries are kept separate from the rest of the fiction so as to protect the more sensitive readers. This was instituted by the previous owner, and is kept on as an odd but sweet little tradition. Only one book is supposed to be checked out at a time, but my mum and I got two each because one of the proprietors goes to our church. I took "For Whom the Bell Tolls" and some odd one my mother suggested called "Mosquitoes" by Faulkner.
The deeply depressing bit of all this is that the library was privately owned until very recently, but has now become a part of the city and will be joined with the county system. I hate the thought of their books going through the interlibrary loans and getting sullied by people who never bothered to go to this special little place.

"A Million candles have burned themselves out. Still I read on." - Montresor. From the library publicity bookmark freebie majigg.

And because I am lazy and blah blah blah sick:
The Earle W. Webb, Jr. Memorial Library & Civic Center, at 812 Evans Street, is a Federal-style brick building that was donated by Earle W. Webb, Sr. as a library for Morehead City in 1937. Until recently a trust fund supported its operation, but the Morehead City Council now provides an operational grant, while the Carteret-Craven Electric Cooperative has supported new acquisitions. The library houses both the classics and modern works and has a substantial children's library. Local groups meet there and the formal garden and reading rooms are available for visitors. Membership is free to county residents.

Further news: There is to be a so-called wild animal show in the area as advertisec on local tv. However the commercial video shows a rather different story. It is a stuffed carcass and dear head exhibit with target practice games, gun/archery/bambi-killing vendors**, and the possibility of winning a shiny truck. It is times like this that reminds me how different the culture is here. That, and when I went to a republican dinner last week where we were served fried chicken and slaw and hush puppies on paper plates.

*I'm a nerd. nerd. nerd. nerd. dork.
**I have nothing against hunting per se, and I love archery. I just think all this newfangled stuff is cheating and I don't like seeing cute furry things all corpse-ified.
.

2005-02-27T21:31:00.000-05:00

The Oscars: Reality TV?

I've been watching bits of the Oscars, and I saw the entire American Spirit Awards. I think that was the first TV awards show I've ever actually sat through. Actually it was less sitting than it was an 80% concious uncomfortable slouch under a pile of cats. These past few days I've been sick. Sick enough to call in to work and generally feel crappy, but not sick enough to really convince my sisters that I was in no condition to pick up their friend and take him to the hospital. This sounds like I was being really rotten or something, but I had actual reason. I would have had to drive for an hour- dangerous because I was falling asleep every 15 minutes or so, also, being sick makes me sore and greatly impairs my basic skills of mobility. This means that I suddenly can only operate one part of my body at a time, and not too well at that. When I went to work knocked over everything, all the time. I reached for bags with one hand and knocked the scanner thingy off the counter with the other(meanwhile I had missed the bags entirely). Getting out of the couch itself nearly ended with a head-on collision with our coffee table. Anyhow, he got his ride since nearly every kid my sisters know seems to have a license and a car. I'm not sure of his condition though, he had a maybe broken arm and as soon as he got his ride my sisters just dropped it and I haven't heard since.
But about the Oscars. The new program, with the awkward microphone in the middle of the audience and American Idol-esque line up of nominees on stage, is ridiculous. When the Oscars try and emulate the rancid reality show setup then it is a sad day in Hollywood. However the dresses looked quite nice. Scarlett looked a little like Courtney Love at first glance, but pretty and bashful on second inspection. Her arm was doing a twitchy little dance while she was announcing the technical awards. There was a pretty blue dress by Versacci Coture, I don't know who the lady in it was though. I hate those boob-smushing dresses though. They seem marvelously absent this year.
But I should go. I'm still not recovered, and have been making some very stupid spelling errors- a few of which I know I probably won't catch. I spelled "award" "avrwd" earlier. Honestly. I hope ESotSM gets an award somewhere. Sideways already had plenty. Chris Rock is often funny. Not always, but he has some shining moments.
I titled this with the oscars and spent 3/4ths of it talking about how I can't drive while sick.
Beyonce is not doing very well.

2005-02-10T13:00:00.000-05:00

He who would be King, Maybe. Okay probably not.

Prince-now-and-forever-barring-any-unforseen-event-G~d forbid-concerning-her-Majesty-the-lady-with-the-hat-*knocks wood* Charles is finally going to marry Camilla Parker-Bowles. I am certianly no big fan of his, although I also don't consider him the bendy-kneed scum some people do. Regardless, it is nice to see he has the huevos to take on the resistance against marrying his longtime love.
I can imagine that Her Majesty with the Hats is not much in favour of the soon-to-be Duchess of Cornwall. The Church has found a few conflicts of doctrine I think.
But all-in-all, it's sweet. I hope the boys are okay with it.

2005-02-06T22:27:00.000-05:00

Yours in Christ

So I was trolling the Orthodox Archdiocese website, looking up the next holiday big enough to constitute the two hour drive to Church, and found that Pascha/Easter falls on May the First. It's going to be another one of those Easters wherein the neighbors find us out hunting eggs about a month too late.
I miss going to church regularly. We still go to the Episcopal church nearly every sunday, but it isn't the same. The brevity, the lack of colour, and honestly the overabudance of english all just make it less special to me. I need the ritual steeped in centuries of stubborness. My father likes going to the Episcopal Church- I think because it reminds him of his mother. She was Orthodox (actually she's the reason the rest of us are, originating the 25% of greek blood I have in me.) but there wasn't an Orthodox Church nearby so they went to the Episcopal. When we can we go to Wilmington and attend Liturgy. It's like a breath of fresh air. Or incense. Lots of Incense. It's what I know, what I like, and what works for me.
We were out in Charlotte this weekend, visiting Pfeiffer where my sisters are going to (probably) go to college. On the way back we detoured to Holy Trinity Cathedral. We got lost and only made it for half the service. At first I didn't even want to go in because I hate arriving somewhere late, especially if it's someplace I've never been. The hour went quickly though. It was nice to be back in a church where I felt comfortable.
Comfortable being relative, as I look more Polish than anything(and I don't really look anything in particular) which leaves me sticking out like a blonde thumb amongst a sea of swarthy brunette index fingers. I miss my old Parish.

2005-01-23T17:05:00.000-05:00

So long, Johnny.

"Never continue in a job you don't enjoy. If you're happy in what you're doing, you'll like yourself, you'll have inner peace. And if you have that, along with physical health, you will have had more success than you could possibly have imagined."
"Who could follow Carson? Believe me, somebody can- and will."

Johnny Carson
1925-2005

2005-01-19T20:19:00.000-05:00

She was just seventeen, if you know just what I mean.

We know I am crazy, yes? Odd, a given. Anyway I love this dress. Brown is certainly one of my "colours". I've been on that site for quite awhile now, unfortunately there isn't more of a market for people like me who would totally wear this stuff in public. Like, to church. Or the movies.

2005-01-13T22:29:00.000-05:00

These Pictures of ~~You~~ Me

The arms-length photoshoot. You know you do it. Anyone with a digital camera inevitably succumbs. Somewhere on you computer is that file labeled "Moi", flowing over with vanity or self conciousness or both.
Some will line their LJs and blogs with narsassistic splendor. Others might slip one or two onto the sidelines, an icon or link in a post. The worst probably hide it all. An encrypted file called "YrsX34ht3.blt" in the depths of computerland.
I'm somewhere in the middle. Most everyone knows I take self portraits ad nauseam, but I don't like using them as wallpaper.

I'm not really sure why I'm thinking about it right now. It's just that sometimes I wonder, why the facination? An easy answer would be that we are constantly trying to capture evidence. The occasional shot that might prove to yourself that, "hey, I can be pretty!" or "Look at how edgy I am" or any one of a thousand adjectives whose discovery we hope will solidify our belief in ourselves. As if the twenty thousandth picture of you looking coyly through your hair at the camera will finally convince the world that "maybe she is worth it."

2005-01-07T16:19:00.001-05:00

Merry Aught-Five!

Better late than never, ne? I've been meaning to put that in for a while, but I never quite made it. Two thousand and five began better than '04. There seem to be mixed opinions on that year. I have seen about as many "2004 was the best year ever" as I have "This was the worst year of my life, good riddance."
Hopefully aught-five will be kind to us all.

2004-12-30T00:58:00.000-05:00

Meanwhile, in the geriatric ward...

Happy Birthday Nat-san!

2004-12-20T05:55:00.000-05:00

I woke up at 5:30 this morning to let a cat out.

And it was snowing.

2004-12-19T20:00:00.000-05:00

Dear People-for-whom-I
-got-gifts-in-my-midnight
-exhaustion-resulting-in
-anxious-gift-buying-fervor,

They are all going to be late. Most are sitting on the floor of my room. The lucky ones are wrapped. The unlucky ones are MIA, having been left in the front room all night. The truely serendipitous bit of the morning was when I found that some had made their way into shipping boxes. Go figure, ne? Anyhow, do not despair. I haven't even bought the twins' presents yet- although with all the Christmas spirit they've been showing I'm not feeling terribly anxious in that department.
This year's tree is the best we've ever had. I take all credit, although Samantha strung the lights and Stephanie helped pick out the tree. Finally, the multi-coloured mess of blinky and not-blinky has been replaced. Our stockings are hung in the family room, whilst the tree stands in the living room because it has to be near a window so that a passerby might glimpse it, right? There was some debate on that issue. If only the fireplace was in the front room, so many problems might be solved. Namely our television issue. But that is a story for a different letter-slash-blog-entry.
Also I have recently discovered Italian sodas (raspberry tastes better than caramel). At Taylor's Mug, our local decent coffee-and-coffee-related-beverage-joint in the next town over they have musicians and bands and an occasional troubadour adorning their corner. There was this guy, and his name was Guy (behind him, out the window, is Santa Claus). He played a quite cool set of Beatles and Buffet and Eagles and Classic Christmas miscellany. During our outing we ignored the fact that there was an iron on at home. I did a crossword, Mother read the paper, Stephanie(fresh from marching in the Christmas parade) and Sophie just kinda hung out. But none of us could resist peeking at the elton-john-meets-jerry-springer-lookalike who also liked the musical stylings of the guy named Guy.
I will post about the parade(s) perhaps later. There was quite a lot of candy. I like to think that it was the town's way of making up for the Halloween that Wasn't.

Love and Peppermint,
Sonya

Evidence

2004-12-15T18:03:00.000-05:00

For Further Evidence of My Awesomeness:

Please refer to Appendix C, subtext 13.2, section 4; "In which Sonya makes her own Boba in Milk Tea and it is Awesome."

2004-12-14T00:03:00.000-05:00

Today (or yesterday, to be technical) is my half-birthday!

And to celebrate I made an eggplant mash dip thing. It's got a name, but it's Greek and i don't remember it. Also I made t-something-pitas. Like spanikopitas, but no spinach. I forgot to add it. Also I ate raw tuna, built my own sushi, and drank eggnog. My head hurts and I think it's a mixture of exhaustion and wasabe.
I spent this evening watching the Sci-fi version of Ursala Le Guin's Earthsea. They really changed it. Lots. Nearly unrecognizable. I might write something better demain. But then again, no.

Oh Mah Gooo'ness

2004-12-11T00:02:00.000-05:00

Remember that Girl who bought entire outfits for under $10?

Yeah. She died last week. Or at least went into a severe coma. I think I have spent a few hundred dollars on christmas. Sisters, friends, relations. Stop already. It's not even like I spent way too much on any one person, just the cumulative bill- plus my own recent clothing phenomenon. You see, a few stores that I rarely got to go to in Cali are in the only mall we can get to (an hour away.) and also there is a Ross. Neither of these things would be a problem if Ross hadn't been particularly organized and the clearance racks at AE and Aero been so lovely and cheap. So my bill is at least 45% christmas-for-me shopping. Anyway I hope the winds change soon, because this money funnel is really making me nervous. Nervous as in my heart flutters with worry when I see the bag of new T-shirts next to my dresser.
Next to the dresser that they will not fit in unless I get around to cleaning it out. My book gluttony has triggered some deep-rooted girlism. My closet may not survive.

The Spice of Life

2004-12-04T21:04:00.000-05:00

The Best Part of Williams & Sonoma is the Free Cider

Well that and the iced cream scoops. Zesters, whisks and most of all iced cream scoops are my favourite kitchen implements.
I love fresh cranberry sauce. We have had a bag of cranberries in the fridge for a few weeks now. By this time I'd thought that they had gone bad, but they were super fresh when we got them and apparently cranberries save well, because when I rinsed them and picked out the bad'uns there weren't any more than usual.
To-day was a day for cooking. I tried to make myself a fancy omelet this morning- alas, no eggs. Later I discovered that we didn't have spinach or tomatoes or good cheese, either. This afternoon I wanted to make cole slaw, but the cabbage had all gone into the stir fry for dinner. However, after dinner I was finally able to marinate some mushrooms for tomorrow and make cranberry sauce. If only there had been another stick of butter I could have made toffee.
One of the best things about cranberry sauce is that it's such a social treat. While sorting good from bad -with a strainer of rinsed berries balanced in the sink, good ones into bowl, bad'uns into trash- we had the radio on and I was chatting to my mum about what to make for my anthro class "ethnic food party". If there were more people in my house who appreciated homemade cranberry sauce they would be in the kitchen enjoying the citrus-y, vanilla-ish, spiced, tart smell. Like a tangy cider. Ideally holiday.

That's Amore

2004-12-01T22:04:00.000-05:00

When the moon hits your eye

"Moonstruck" is such a wonderful movie. One of Nicholas Cage's best, I think. It was just on TCM. Lovely film, ne?

Johnny: In time, you'll see that this is the best thing.
Loretta Castorini: In time, you'll drop dead and I'll come to your funeral in a red dress.

Loretta Castorini: Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been two months since my last confession.
Father: What sins have you to confess?
Loretta Castorini: Twice I took the name of the Lord in vain, once I slept with the brother of my fiancee, and once I bounced a check at the liquor store, but that was really an accident.
Father: Then it's not a sin. But... what was that second thing you said, Loretta?

Old Crone: You have someone on that plane?
Loretta Castorini: Yeah, my fiance.
Old Crone: [angry] I put a curse on that plane. My sister is on that plane. I put a curse on that plane that it's gonna explode, burn on fire and fall into the sea. Fifty years ago, she stole a man from me. S'aprice l'uomo! Today she tells me that she never loved him, that she took him to be strong on me. Now she's going back to Sicily. Di returne Silicia! I cursed her that the green Atlantic water should swallow her up!
Loretta Castorini: I don't believe in curses.
Old Crone: [shrugging] Eh, neither do I.

Also, Phantom of the Opera is going to be out in Theatres Dec 22nd! I want to see it! Goodness, It looks so beautiful. Lloyd Webber was in on it, so I expect great things.

2004-11-27T23:56:00.000-05:00

I love ____ in the Spring time... I love _____ in the fall...

Being a Californian, I am the end-all for anything anyone should ever know about summer. I lived in the land of eternal ~~effing~~ sunshine for 19.o277 years of my 19.41666 years of life. But this Thanksgiving was not only the first Holiday I'd ever spent with my paternal relatives (excepting this one holiday that may have been thanksgiving where I have a vague memory of my Aunt Robin sleeping in the front room.) but also the first time I'd ever seen real fall.
Maryland, Bethesda to be more precise, was blustery and freezing and moments away from Washington D.C. For all those reasons it was perfect. I wore my Georgetown best, and looked and felt wonderfully at home(except when my Dad turned down a very prominent though fortunately not overcrowded one way street in the wrong direction.). Finally I had an excuse to wear my pendleton- and I needed every warm, wooly thread.

My only regret is that I had to go home two days early- meaning I got to wake up at 4am and drive 8 hours to go to work at 3pm that same day.- and also that I forgot my gloves and hat, because did I mention that it was really super cold?

2004-11-24T01:35:00.000-05:00

Bye-bye baby, baby bye-bye...

I'm off for a mini-break. An 8 hour drive away Thanksgiving at the Grandparents' waits for the first time ever. I hope it isn't a rotten disaster.
Happy Thanksgiving!
Unless someone from off-continent drops by on accident. Then it's just "Happy Thursday!".

PS. It's a bit disturbing when you think a bit beyond the elementary school version of Thanksgiving day, ne? What with the war and smallpox blankets, the reservations and practical genocide? But that's America for you. Everything's a bloody holiday. Sorry for the tired commentary. Everyone likes to put in a few cents about the Indians/Native Americans, I know.

Learning Russian

2004-11-16T13:35:00.000-05:00

The Best of Things not Yet Begun

Official Novel-writing Month started sixteen days ago, and I missed it. Last year I contemplated the awesomeness of the idea, and decided to participate. I would look forward to it all year. Like Easter, the Tour de France, and the week before Christmas it would be a favourite event.
I think it had been forgotten by Christmastime.
Perhaps I'll begin anyway. Of course not officially because it would be depressing when I couldn't finish. But I should try anyhow. Either that or I shall declare December the Official Post-season Novel-writing month for the Punctuality Impaired.

Talk about letting a post ferment.

2004-10-26T00:02:00.000-05:00

Talk About Letting a Post Ferment, Right?

So perhaps, maybe, there is a chance I might be slacking on the blog front. As an update: I Downloaded the whole last season of the OC that I so adamantly disdained, and am now up to speed. Also, we found a new place for produce and I've begun reading War and Peace. A real post soon. I promise to maybe write one, perhaps.

Name Four Bad Habits You Have: 1. procrastinating 2. dropping everything on the ground 3. pretending to be humble about things I am proud of. 4. avoiding potential conflict/embarassment
Name Four Things That You Wish You Had: 1. A Vespa 2. A Car 3. A Friend (within the state) 4. magical powers
Name Four Scents You Love: 1. wet cement 2. clean cats 3. eucalyptus trees 4. old books
Name Four People That Know You the Best: 1. Justin 2. Benjamin 3. Natalie 4. My Mother
Name Four Things You'd Never Wear: 1. Animal Prints 2. a belly shirt 3. A mink or fox or any fur with the head still attached. 4. Those miniskirts with the poufy layers that remind me of the frilly underpants that go over baby diapers.
Name Four Things You Are Thinking About Now: 1. I'm tired. 2. I wonder how long this episode of the OC will take to download. 3. I need tights. 4. I should be reading.
Name Four Things That You Have Done Today: 1. sortof tidied the kitchen. 2. Took a shower 3. Did laundry 4. got a really pretty dress.
Name the Last Four Things You Have Bought: 1. A pretty dress. 2. A scarfish thing. 3.Lunch at JB's 4. .... Can't think of anything.
Name Four Bands/Groups Most People Don't Know You Like: 1. Rockapella 2. Tarkan 3. XTC 4. Me First and the Gimmie Gimmies
Name Four Drinks You Regularly Drink: 1. Water 2. Coke 3. Milk 4. Tea
First Grade Teacher's Name? Mrs. Wallent
Last Words You Said: "I have the hair for it"
Last Song You Sang? Bohemian Raphsody - Queen.
Last Person You Hugged? My mum
Last Thing You Laughed At? Sara-cat running into the bathroom to drink from the faucet.
Last Time You Said 'I Love You' And Meant It? To my cat, earlier today.
Last Time You Cried? During Joan of Arcadia. Kinda-almost.
What's In Your CD Player? Don't have one. Nothing's in my portable.
What Color Socks Are You Wearing? None a'tall.
What's Under Your Bed? some socks, doll clothes, and old boxes of school work and memories.
What Time Did You Wake Up Today? 730. My sisters were yelling to eachother.
Current Taste? Yeah... Moving on.
Current Hair? My own?
Current Clothes? Pink pj pants, grey top, light pink bathrobe.
Current Annoyance? the clothes on my floor.
Current Longing? that Due South would DL faster.
Current Desktop Picture? "Ophelia" ... by JD Waterhouse I think. But I'm not sure.
Current Worry? That I wont get enough sleep tonite.
Current Hate? ...
Favorite Physical Feature Of The Opposite Sex? Hair? Hands?
Last CD You Bought? I didn't.
Favorite Place To Be? Depends. On a lot.
Least Favorite Place? The furniture area at work. I dread having someone ask me to get them a chair or whatever piece of cheap junk they want.
Time You Wake Up In The Morning: 8-ish, depending on my shift.
If You Could Play An Instrument? Guitar. Or Drums. Or recorder.
Favorite Color? Purple. Dark, warm purple like my old shampoo was.
Do You Believe In An Afterlife? yes'm
How Tall Are You? 5'4”
Current Favorite Word/Saying? "I shall try"
Favorite Season? Autumn
One Person From Your Past You Wish You Could Go Back And Talk To? Hey, look over there!
Favorite Day? Wenesday
Where Would You Like To Go? Wales
What Is Your Career Going To Be Like? We shall see.
How Many Kids Do You Want? Why, are you offering?
Favorite Car? This, or this.
Type A Line You Remember From Any Book: "You've never even met my parents!" "I've met you, and that's enough."
A Random Lyric: "If the good Lord had meant for me to live in LA, he'd have given me a machine gun."
Identify Some Of The Things Surrounding Your Computer: 1. Cordless phone 2. Blank DVD-R's 3. Two sets of speakers. 4. My closet.

2004-10-22T13:41:00.000-05:00

Because I never should have let that post ferment there for so long...

Moving to North Carolina has been my own personal culinary disaster. This comes right on the heels of a Culinary Enlightenment. For the longest time, if it wasn't ravioli or a hamburger or basically something I could but ketcup on, I didn't like it. Then I had the best tahini sauce ever, followed later by really good french fries and spanikopita, and much later by a really really good salad with candided walnuts, and suddenly I was cured. A few food epiphanies and I was eating salad(as long as it's a real salad. Not the american "three leaves of lettuce and a glob of dresing"), developing a love of crunchy mangoes(and a distinct distaste for mushy fruit), making crepes in near-pro fashion, and dying for hummus and baba ganoush.

Then the music died. North Carolina has wildly expensive produce, at least double my beloved Tropicana Market. Feta is nonexistant except the horrible dry crumbly kind from the grocer. Hummus? A measly can for $2-something when I could get one twice the size for $.79! If i asked for baba ganoush they would probably offer speech therapy. OUr electric stove has taken some getting used to. My crepes were hard to begin. A peach is a treat and an avocado a luxury - a mango or filo dough is beyond all comprehension.

On the upside, Wal*mart does carry my favourite grape juice.

However, if anyone is feeling generous I would LOVE a nice big can of Bulgarian, or even French Feta from Tropicana this christmas. Seriously. The tins with the pulls on them. Second row up from the middle section of the cheese fridge at the back of the store.

2004-10-15T19:54:00.000-05:00

"A baby is born when a baby is born."

That, kids, is Barbara Boxer's enlightened explanation of when she would consider a baby had completed the birthing process.

I love Alan Keyes. To-day he was on C-Span discussing the Born-alive program as part of what appeared to be a debate. Appeared to be, because I left before I found out what is was, exactly. I hadn't heard of that particular program so I set about googling it.

Apparently a significant number of abortions result in a live-born child. In other words, the child is basically premature, having survived the induced abortion. The problem is that the children are (sometimes, not always. I don't know on what side the majority lay- only that it's enough to be a concern) left aside to die instead of being given life-saving treatment that any other premature child would.
The argument for this is that the preemie baby is still a fetus. Therefore without rights- including the right to live.

I can't honestly say when I think the fetus becomes a viable human being, but I do know that when a child is delivered(or "extracted", as the case may be)- wriggling with clutched fists- it does not deserve to be stabbed in the back of the neck and have its brain suctioned.

Main Entry: par·tial-birth abortion
Pronunciation: 'pär-sh&l-
Function: noun
: an abortion in the second or third trimester of pregnancy in which the death of the fetus is induced after it has passed partway through the birth canal

I don't understand how such a gruesome event even became an option. We aren't the same society that condemns and ostracizes unwed mothers, teen mothers, or any other member of the abortion clinic-going variety. There are hundreds of methods for birth control. This is not the bygone era where a controlling family and repressive social structure would lead a deranged girl to an unpleasant activity of the coathanger variety. There are shelters, welfare programs, government relief programs, and all kinds of other socialistic and charitable endeavors (Adoption. Adoption. Adoption.) to help those in such circumstances.

Heaven forbid someone tell a woman that there's a difference between sexual freedom and whoredom.

2004-10-02T19:43:00.000-05:00

Yes, That Wedding Dress Looked Like an Explodey box of Kleenex- With a Bow.

One of My co-workers at the illustrious office supply store has been suddenly curious about my life since he found out that I'm from California. Let's just call him Waldorf McFarland Snootyville II for now. Wally for short. His name is quite high falutin' though his nose is fairly level. To-day he gathered all sorts of family data- names, ages, etc. -and I was at a loss as to why.

Apperantly, Wally and another comrade thought I looked like this chick. They were wondering if perhaps I had a secret sister that I wanted to hide from them. Actually if I had a relation on the apprentice I probably would keep it quiet until I found out how they fared.

I don't see the resemblance. Except maybe the chin.

Alas, I don't have an elder sibling. And even more alas, I don't have any known kindred residing in New York. Believe me, We're all terribly disapointed.

2004-09-27T23:05:00.000-05:00

"...by the time I was sixteen I had everything planned.-

...All I needed was a groom."

So Natalia and I were looking around, searching for every girl's untimate dress. The dress every girl spends 2/3rds of her maidenhood searching for. Every young lady's ultimate aspiration.

The Perfect Wedding Dress.

And i think I found it.

Cheers.

2004-09-23T18:24:00.000-05:00

List of things I really don't need #1357

I was looking through blogs while watching the latest episode of Gilmore Girls and found these.

Spiffy. Not quite my dream boot, but still awfully neat.

Also I have to start a new pile of books. A third pile of books that don't fit in my bookcase. When I am old I will have a house filled entirely with books and cats that is sliding into worse and worse disrepair as I waste away watching episode upon episode of Gilmore Girls.

2004-09-19T11:42:00.000-05:00

A Sovereign Justification Of Serendipitous Verbosity

A clumsy title, I give you that. But perhaps it is its own example, ne? I get to write an essay to-day (due tomorrow, naturally) and it reminds me what fun writing is. Big words abound and perplexity galore! Of course I'm wretchedly distracted- that never fails -but nevertheless I'm thoroughly enjoying the exercise. It makes me want to write a treatise on something, or perhaps just an opinionated rant in a more formal format than the neo-traditional "angry blogger". Of course I'd have to get properly flustered over something, which may prove difficult as I'm feelng quite pleasantly amused right now.

Also, I now have a Staples Rewards Card as a Professor of Russian Studies for Chenovia Prepatory Academy. This pleases me greatly, as it should. Or perhaps my life is just that dull.