Am sitting in a Young Adult Round Table workshop on how to keep up with tech-savvy teens. They mention blogging. So it's probably legal for me to do a quick post. To show that I'm learning.
Happy Friday, everyone!
Happy Friday, everyone!
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Friday, 30 November 2007
Thursday, 29 November 2007
Yeah. I tag myself.
But I'm going to say that the lovely Desmama tagged me.
5 things I was doing 10 years ago
1. Starting my new campus job, cleaning urinals from 4:00am to 7:30am every morning. Betchyall didn't even know how hard core I can be! And boys, seriously. What is with the leaving of the newspapers on the floor of the bathroom stalls? That's just gross.
2. Enjoying new short haircut--the result of a previously mentioned rappelling incident. Unfortunately, did not know how to properly blowdry new short hair and so wandered around with hair pyramid on head.
3. Living in the dorms with Miss Hass, Audra (my room roommate, who called me Eugene, which I still answer to in the manner of Pavlov's dogs), Lady Steed, Skippen, AA, and other fab folk.
4. Eyeing RMs (Returned Missionaries) with trepidation because I knew they were just after one thing, and I wasn't about to get married until I was at least 19. I think my plan worked a little too well.
5. Believing that I knew Absolutely Everything and that there was no such thing as a gray area, ever.
5 things on my to-do list
1. Go back in time and learn the cello instead of the flute. The flute is nice and all, but cellos sound like rich, dark, chocolate.
2. Go to a conference tomorrow where I will meet up with the delightful MBC and her library posse for lunch. Wheee!
3. Try to stop being so fabulous all the time.
4. Finish Christmas shopping with limbs, sanity, and bank account intact.
5. Find new British boyfriend, since all my usual ones keep getting married, which is rude of them.
5 things I'd do if I were a millionaire
1. BUY a British boyfriend. Hah!
2. Invest most of it, because I'm dork like that. And then I would read my statements compulsively up in the tower of my mansion and cackle with delight at the growth.
3. Take my sisters and my mom on a fabulous trip.
4. Buy myself that cottage in Derbyshire
5. Stockpile my home with all the imported cheeses and chocolates I could get, and then invite cheese-loving friends over to gorge ourselves while watching Sumptuous Literary Adaptations. (Although, now that I think of it, I might not need to wait for millionaire status to do this.)
5 things I'd never do again
1. Feed my little brother coolboy clamjuice by telling him it was lemonade. I still feel bad about that one, but only because my family won't let it go.
2. Get a perm
3. Um.
4. Huh.
5. Actually, I don't have loads of regrets. But I do feel really bad about the clam juice. And the perms.
5 favorite possessions (was "toys," but I don't really have many of them, unless you count the sunroof on my car)
1. My down comforter which I love so much that I compressed it and hauled it to England with me. Best. decision. ever.
2. My rainbow book shelves
3. My previously-mentioned collection of Sumptuous Literary Adaptations
4. My sand jars.
5. The love and adoration of the most precious children alive.
(photo taken without permission from my sister's blog)
5 things I've read recently
1. The Omnivore's Dilemma, to get my liberal pinko commie groove on
2. The City of Ember, for book group
3. The ingredients list on a box of Western Family Stuffing, which was terrifying.
4. Last Minute Knitted Gifts, because I'm working on a surprise . . . shhhh!
5. An LDS novel recommended by Desmama, who knows my distrust of LDS fiction and says this particular writer is worth reading. She didn't put any pressure on me, just said that if I don't like it then we can't be friends anymore.
5 things I was doing 10 years ago
1. Starting my new campus job, cleaning urinals from 4:00am to 7:30am every morning. Betchyall didn't even know how hard core I can be! And boys, seriously. What is with the leaving of the newspapers on the floor of the bathroom stalls? That's just gross.
2. Enjoying new short haircut--the result of a previously mentioned rappelling incident. Unfortunately, did not know how to properly blowdry new short hair and so wandered around with hair pyramid on head.
3. Living in the dorms with Miss Hass, Audra (my room roommate, who called me Eugene, which I still answer to in the manner of Pavlov's dogs), Lady Steed, Skippen, AA, and other fab folk.
4. Eyeing RMs (Returned Missionaries) with trepidation because I knew they were just after one thing, and I wasn't about to get married until I was at least 19. I think my plan worked a little too well.
5. Believing that I knew Absolutely Everything and that there was no such thing as a gray area, ever.
5 things on my to-do list
1. Go back in time and learn the cello instead of the flute. The flute is nice and all, but cellos sound like rich, dark, chocolate.
2. Go to a conference tomorrow where I will meet up with the delightful MBC and her library posse for lunch. Wheee!
3. Try to stop being so fabulous all the time.
4. Finish Christmas shopping with limbs, sanity, and bank account intact.
5. Find new British boyfriend, since all my usual ones keep getting married, which is rude of them.
5 things I'd do if I were a millionaire
1. BUY a British boyfriend. Hah!
2. Invest most of it, because I'm dork like that. And then I would read my statements compulsively up in the tower of my mansion and cackle with delight at the growth.
3. Take my sisters and my mom on a fabulous trip.
4. Buy myself that cottage in Derbyshire
5. Stockpile my home with all the imported cheeses and chocolates I could get, and then invite cheese-loving friends over to gorge ourselves while watching Sumptuous Literary Adaptations. (Although, now that I think of it, I might not need to wait for millionaire status to do this.)
5 things I'd never do again
1. Feed my little brother coolboy clamjuice by telling him it was lemonade. I still feel bad about that one, but only because my family won't let it go.
2. Get a perm
3. Um.
4. Huh.
5. Actually, I don't have loads of regrets. But I do feel really bad about the clam juice. And the perms.
5 favorite possessions (was "toys," but I don't really have many of them, unless you count the sunroof on my car)
1. My down comforter which I love so much that I compressed it and hauled it to England with me. Best. decision. ever.
2. My rainbow book shelves
3. My previously-mentioned collection of Sumptuous Literary Adaptations
4. My sand jars.
5. The love and adoration of the most precious children alive.
(photo taken without permission from my sister's blog)5 things I've read recently
1. The Omnivore's Dilemma, to get my liberal pinko commie groove on
2. The City of Ember, for book group
3. The ingredients list on a box of Western Family Stuffing, which was terrifying.
4. Last Minute Knitted Gifts, because I'm working on a surprise . . . shhhh!
5. An LDS novel recommended by Desmama, who knows my distrust of LDS fiction and says this particular writer is worth reading. She didn't put any pressure on me, just said that if I don't like it then we can't be friends anymore.
Wednesday, 28 November 2007
It's beginning to look a lot like . . .
So it finally started snowing here in L**** yesterday. Which is a good thing because it's been unseasonably dry and we need water, etc. But I was kind of having fun pointing and laughing at all the skiers and snowboarders who've been standing around in clumps looking all forlorn as they gazed up at the dry, brown mountains.
I'm trying to make lists of things I want to do this next month to feel all Christmassy. It always seems to go by so fast and I'd really like to be able to slow down and enjoy the thing, dangit.
So here are some of the things I want to do. Would love to get ideas from anyone else who has some favorite traditions!
1. Go see the King's Singers sing with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in a couple of weeks. And I realize that the new random selection thing they're doing with the tickets this year is more fair and stuff, but come on! We almost didn't get any! It would have been tragic!
2. Adopt a Sub for Santa family with my singles ward.
3. Make homemade Christmas gifts to give to coworkers and friends. Can't tell you what the gift is yet, except that it's awesome and you're going to wish you had one.
4. Go see every Christmas concert I possibly can. The Tabernacle here in L**** has a pretty full schedule of free concerts this December.
5. Do something about the dismal, tragic lack of decorations in my apartment and, by extension, my neighborhood. I swear my street looks like it's preparing for the Blitz. Or a drug bust, which is more likely. But someone needs to get some lights up, and if it has to be me then that's fine. Also I quite fancy a berry wreath for my front door.
6. Check out Preston Idaho's annual Festival of Lights. Will be sure to take Chapstick, tater tots, and computer-hacking skills with me.
7. Curl up with Christmas music and hot chocolate while writing Christmas cards.
8. Get Christmas shopping finished as soon as possible so I can avoid the crowds of increasingly nasty people who will only kill my Christmas buzz.
9. Eat chocolate crinkles. Lots and lots of chocolate crinkles. Jen, you gonna hook me up here?
10. Watch the Christmas movies. Must-sees include A Christmas Story, The Muppet Christmas Carol, and It's a Wonderful Life (which must be watched in the original black and white, never in color. Because we were not raised by wolves.) This year I have a new favorite: Joyeux Noel. I want to watch it with my family at Christmas, if we can get my dad past the part where some of the characters may possibly speak the French.
Am I forgetting anything?
I'm trying to make lists of things I want to do this next month to feel all Christmassy. It always seems to go by so fast and I'd really like to be able to slow down and enjoy the thing, dangit.
So here are some of the things I want to do. Would love to get ideas from anyone else who has some favorite traditions!
1. Go see the King's Singers sing with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir in a couple of weeks. And I realize that the new random selection thing they're doing with the tickets this year is more fair and stuff, but come on! We almost didn't get any! It would have been tragic!
2. Adopt a Sub for Santa family with my singles ward.
3. Make homemade Christmas gifts to give to coworkers and friends. Can't tell you what the gift is yet, except that it's awesome and you're going to wish you had one.
4. Go see every Christmas concert I possibly can. The Tabernacle here in L**** has a pretty full schedule of free concerts this December.
5. Do something about the dismal, tragic lack of decorations in my apartment and, by extension, my neighborhood. I swear my street looks like it's preparing for the Blitz. Or a drug bust, which is more likely. But someone needs to get some lights up, and if it has to be me then that's fine. Also I quite fancy a berry wreath for my front door.
6. Check out Preston Idaho's annual Festival of Lights. Will be sure to take Chapstick, tater tots, and computer-hacking skills with me.
7. Curl up with Christmas music and hot chocolate while writing Christmas cards.
8. Get Christmas shopping finished as soon as possible so I can avoid the crowds of increasingly nasty people who will only kill my Christmas buzz.
9. Eat chocolate crinkles. Lots and lots of chocolate crinkles. Jen, you gonna hook me up here?
10. Watch the Christmas movies. Must-sees include A Christmas Story, The Muppet Christmas Carol, and It's a Wonderful Life (which must be watched in the original black and white, never in color. Because we were not raised by wolves.) This year I have a new favorite: Joyeux Noel. I want to watch it with my family at Christmas, if we can get my dad past the part where some of the characters may possibly speak the French.
Am I forgetting anything?
Tuesday, 27 November 2007
Because Tuesday is the day for sharing
My sister Jenny called me at work yesterday because she was in Burlington Coat Factory looking at Grown Lady Dress-Up Coats for the first time ever. This is the one she called me about:
Pretty, huh? The shell is 80% lambswool and 20% cashmere, which will explain what happened next.
"It's just so beautiful and so soft, and now I'm standing here in the store petting myself."
"I don't think you're supposed to do that in a public place."
"Well, I'm in a dressing room. So no one knows I'm doing it but you. And the dressing room video camera people."
"Okay, that's good then."
But speaking of dressing rooms and the freaky things we do in them, something about the lighting in there makes skin imperfections suddenly become so noticeable that I cannot even consider leaving the stall until I have Done Something About It. It's like, "Woah? Why did no one TELL me that I had blackheads the size of quarters just hanging around on my face? Why are salespeople and children not shrieking in terror and then throwing up when they see me approach?"
I'm much better about this now, but thoughts like those led to one of my Worst Dressing Room experiences ever, wherein I made the poor decision of mashing at something that must have been connected directly to an artery. I won't get into details, but it was bad. And I didn't have any tissues or anything with me, (and was wearing white and khaki, so no help there.) I ended up using a Gap receipt to apply pressure to the wound for what seemed like forever. I'm lucky I didn't catch a disease doing that.
So. Let's hear some of your dressing room stories! You know you have them.
Pretty, huh? The shell is 80% lambswool and 20% cashmere, which will explain what happened next.
"It's just so beautiful and so soft, and now I'm standing here in the store petting myself."
"I don't think you're supposed to do that in a public place."
"Well, I'm in a dressing room. So no one knows I'm doing it but you. And the dressing room video camera people."
"Okay, that's good then."
But speaking of dressing rooms and the freaky things we do in them, something about the lighting in there makes skin imperfections suddenly become so noticeable that I cannot even consider leaving the stall until I have Done Something About It. It's like, "Woah? Why did no one TELL me that I had blackheads the size of quarters just hanging around on my face? Why are salespeople and children not shrieking in terror and then throwing up when they see me approach?"
I'm much better about this now, but thoughts like those led to one of my Worst Dressing Room experiences ever, wherein I made the poor decision of mashing at something that must have been connected directly to an artery. I won't get into details, but it was bad. And I didn't have any tissues or anything with me, (and was wearing white and khaki, so no help there.) I ended up using a Gap receipt to apply pressure to the wound for what seemed like forever. I'm lucky I didn't catch a disease doing that.
So. Let's hear some of your dressing room stories! You know you have them.
Monday, 26 November 2007
Because you don't want people to look at you and think, "yeah, there's a cat lady in the making"
Today is going to be one of those days where I favor the Internet with a few Pearls of Wisdom. I have been hearing from a lot of young women lately who, I fear, need a gentle talking-to. A reality check, if you will. If you, Gracious Reader, do not need such a check then you can read this with smug satisfaction, basking in the glow of your own emotional health and maybe treating yourself to some dark chocolate while you're at it.
If, however, my words strike a chord deep within you and make you want to come over to my house and light pieces of it (or me) on fire because I just don't understand, then trust me: you need to hear this.
I am hearing a lot of single young women talk about how it's really uncomfortable for them when their siblings (especially younger siblings) get married before they do. As one who has been in this position--twice, thank you very much--I can say that they're right. It is uncomfortable. It's uncomfortable because it reminds you that you want to be getting married, and it makes it seem as though everyone but you is doing it, and you really don't want to go to a wedding where everyone asks you stupid questions and pats your arm and stuff.
Only here's the thing. Some of these women are talking about this situation as though it's The End of the World, and it's the Hardest Thing They Will Ever Face in Life, and it's something that their siblings are doing On Purpose Just to Be Jerks. Friends, when you go there, you are losing your perspective in a big way.
Yes, it can be uncomfortable. And you may end up with some legitimate gripes which will make for fabulous blogging fodder. But it doesn't affect your life in any way. It doesn't make you more single than you were before. It has nothing to do with you, actually. And if you insist on making it all about you, then you're going to be in for a world of hurt. Not only will you drive yourself crazy, but at the wedding everyone will be eying you in fear that you're going to rip the tiara off your sister's head, plunk it on your own, and start hysterically screaming about how this should be "MY DAY--MY DAYEEEEE."
In case you're still not with me, let's try an analogy.
Ahem.
The hardest thing that has ever happened to me or will ever happen to me in life was when my sister/brother got an ice cream cone and I didn't. I mean, it's not like I wanted their ice cream, because I'm looking for a completely different flavor. But still. The fact that they have one and I don't? Totally wrong.
The only way for me to tolerate my icecreamless situation is if everyone else abstains from ice-cream ordering until after I've picked mine. Once I'm happy and content with my ice cream then you're welcome to have a go. And if you missed out on perfect opportunities during that time, too bad. It's called Solidarity, and you'd better go read up on it.
Or, if my siblings miss the Solidarity lecture and decide to get the ice cream anyway, then they should have the good grace to tiptoe around me and never mentioned the ice cream and maybe just eat it in a closet or something so as not to remind me that my hands are coneless.
In fact, now I get mad when any of my siblings even think about ice cream cones, or drive around looking in the window of ice cream shops. Because NO ONE DESERVES IT BUT ME.
Kind of ridiculous, right?
That's what I though.
So here's what you do. You have your cry in your room alone and then you get to work. You are as enthusiastic and helpful and happy for your brother/sister as you can be. Before the wedding, you take an extra long time getting ready so that you look hot enough to melt glass. Because guess what? You will get married at some point. And 30 years from now when you're all reminiscing about your engagements/weddings, do you really want everyone remembering how insane you were and how they weren't even allowed to be happy around you?
I didn't think so.
If, however, my words strike a chord deep within you and make you want to come over to my house and light pieces of it (or me) on fire because I just don't understand, then trust me: you need to hear this.
I am hearing a lot of single young women talk about how it's really uncomfortable for them when their siblings (especially younger siblings) get married before they do. As one who has been in this position--twice, thank you very much--I can say that they're right. It is uncomfortable. It's uncomfortable because it reminds you that you want to be getting married, and it makes it seem as though everyone but you is doing it, and you really don't want to go to a wedding where everyone asks you stupid questions and pats your arm and stuff.
Only here's the thing. Some of these women are talking about this situation as though it's The End of the World, and it's the Hardest Thing They Will Ever Face in Life, and it's something that their siblings are doing On Purpose Just to Be Jerks. Friends, when you go there, you are losing your perspective in a big way.
Yes, it can be uncomfortable. And you may end up with some legitimate gripes which will make for fabulous blogging fodder. But it doesn't affect your life in any way. It doesn't make you more single than you were before. It has nothing to do with you, actually. And if you insist on making it all about you, then you're going to be in for a world of hurt. Not only will you drive yourself crazy, but at the wedding everyone will be eying you in fear that you're going to rip the tiara off your sister's head, plunk it on your own, and start hysterically screaming about how this should be "MY DAY--MY DAYEEEEE."
In case you're still not with me, let's try an analogy.
Ahem.
The hardest thing that has ever happened to me or will ever happen to me in life was when my sister/brother got an ice cream cone and I didn't. I mean, it's not like I wanted their ice cream, because I'm looking for a completely different flavor. But still. The fact that they have one and I don't? Totally wrong.
The only way for me to tolerate my icecreamless situation is if everyone else abstains from ice-cream ordering until after I've picked mine. Once I'm happy and content with my ice cream then you're welcome to have a go. And if you missed out on perfect opportunities during that time, too bad. It's called Solidarity, and you'd better go read up on it.
Or, if my siblings miss the Solidarity lecture and decide to get the ice cream anyway, then they should have the good grace to tiptoe around me and never mentioned the ice cream and maybe just eat it in a closet or something so as not to remind me that my hands are coneless.
In fact, now I get mad when any of my siblings even think about ice cream cones, or drive around looking in the window of ice cream shops. Because NO ONE DESERVES IT BUT ME.
Kind of ridiculous, right?
That's what I though.
So here's what you do. You have your cry in your room alone and then you get to work. You are as enthusiastic and helpful and happy for your brother/sister as you can be. Before the wedding, you take an extra long time getting ready so that you look hot enough to melt glass. Because guess what? You will get married at some point. And 30 years from now when you're all reminiscing about your engagements/weddings, do you really want everyone remembering how insane you were and how they weren't even allowed to be happy around you?
I didn't think so.
Thursday, 22 November 2007
Happing Thanksgibbing back
It's set to be a good Thanksgiving, I think.
As my sister Jen announced, my Ridiculously Talented B-in-Law Ed just got his first official job since launching hisself as a commercial photographer. He'll be doing a series of shoots for Norton Antivirus for their 2008 print campaign, and I'm sure they're going to be amazing. We've all been praying really, really hard that he'll get hired soon so that they can stop being poor people. I've been praying extra hard because Jen promised me that once they're filthy rich she'll be able to do things like take me to London for my birthday. (Hey, my prayers don't come cheap. You gotta earn 'em.)
So yeah. There's a big, big thing to be thankful for. The rest of the holiday could suck bricks and I don't think any of us will care.
Am very excited for this year's food lineup. Jen is handling the turkey, the veggies, the brie, and some other stuff. Spitfire and I are bringing Pioneer Woman's mashed potatoes (made with cream cheese, for the love of all that is holy and right), and her sweet potatoes (blended with butter, milk, and Fresh Hot Sin). I'm also doing Martha Stewart's classic stuffing and a pumpkin pie made with fresh pumpkin.
That's right. If anyone wants to put a tiara on my head right now that would be just fine.
I slaughtered one of my Halloween pumpkins last week, a task which turned out to be much more time-consuming that I thought it would be. This probably is to do with the lack of proper slaughtering implements in my home. (Note to burglars and would-be killers: Bring your own knives.) I'm not kidding, though. A kid's pumpkin-carving kit probably would have gotten the job done better and faster. But at the end of it I had my very own gorgeous pumpkin puree.
Isn't it beautiful? It looked just like mango. Sadly, it did not taste like it, which would have been a Thanksgiving Miracle. It's so pretty that it makes the canned stuff look a bit like this:
And now I'm off to go enjoy the day with my lovely sisters. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
As my sister Jen announced, my Ridiculously Talented B-in-Law Ed just got his first official job since launching hisself as a commercial photographer. He'll be doing a series of shoots for Norton Antivirus for their 2008 print campaign, and I'm sure they're going to be amazing. We've all been praying really, really hard that he'll get hired soon so that they can stop being poor people. I've been praying extra hard because Jen promised me that once they're filthy rich she'll be able to do things like take me to London for my birthday. (Hey, my prayers don't come cheap. You gotta earn 'em.)
So yeah. There's a big, big thing to be thankful for. The rest of the holiday could suck bricks and I don't think any of us will care.
Am very excited for this year's food lineup. Jen is handling the turkey, the veggies, the brie, and some other stuff. Spitfire and I are bringing Pioneer Woman's mashed potatoes (made with cream cheese, for the love of all that is holy and right), and her sweet potatoes (blended with butter, milk, and Fresh Hot Sin). I'm also doing Martha Stewart's classic stuffing and a pumpkin pie made with fresh pumpkin.
That's right. If anyone wants to put a tiara on my head right now that would be just fine.
I slaughtered one of my Halloween pumpkins last week, a task which turned out to be much more time-consuming that I thought it would be. This probably is to do with the lack of proper slaughtering implements in my home. (Note to burglars and would-be killers: Bring your own knives.) I'm not kidding, though. A kid's pumpkin-carving kit probably would have gotten the job done better and faster. But at the end of it I had my very own gorgeous pumpkin puree.
Isn't it beautiful? It looked just like mango. Sadly, it did not taste like it, which would have been a Thanksgiving Miracle. It's so pretty that it makes the canned stuff look a bit like this:
And now I'm off to go enjoy the day with my lovely sisters. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!
Wednesday, 21 November 2007
Liberation katarche!
So that's it. My 2 years of JC education has officially ended, I can get my life back finally. I could still recall myself in utter dire emotions earlier this year while I struggled myself through the gruelling timetable, being always in a half conscious state of mind. I survived on thoughtcrimes and metal music from my mp3. Hard it was. I also could remember how fucking confused I was in JC1, when I kept thinking of withdrawing from JC to go to Poly, I played truancy many times, thank Loki, nothing serious happened due to that. Haha! ^^ I'm good at it.
So, there and then I was surviving on a diet of thoughtcrimes, thinking about The Outside World, trying to figure out what the heck are the lecturers saying half the time, cursing the school, text messaging my friends to make myself feel better, and otherwise, being a complete loner in school. I survived, 2 fucking years in a damned place, without any close friend I know from my previous school - NCHS. I am amazed by myself! Haha.
Here is the preliminary post-A Levels pictures I took once I got home just now;
As you can use your observational skills, my notes weighs around 48-49kg. I have nearly 50kg of information in my brain, beat that. Lol.
Whee, I don't know what to say, all I am now is happy and hungry. *goes off to find food*
- Ling.
So, there and then I was surviving on a diet of thoughtcrimes, thinking about The Outside World, trying to figure out what the heck are the lecturers saying half the time, cursing the school, text messaging my friends to make myself feel better, and otherwise, being a complete loner in school. I survived, 2 fucking years in a damned place, without any close friend I know from my previous school - NCHS. I am amazed by myself! Haha.
Here is the preliminary post-A Levels pictures I took once I got home just now;
As you can use your observational skills, my notes weighs around 48-49kg. I have nearly 50kg of information in my brain, beat that. Lol.
Whee, I don't know what to say, all I am now is happy and hungry. *goes off to find food*
- Ling.
Good things!
I have no idea why good things are starting to happen so late into the year, when I am done with my A Levels (Tomorrow!).
Let me list them down for you.
I am most excited about my freedom though. I shall take a picture of my JC notes lumped together once my last paper is done. =) Keep a look on that.
Oh! I watched a damn funny show a few nights ago. Called "Dogma", directed by Kevin Smith, recommended by Vika, now I recommend it to you. Search it up on Youtube, someone kind enough uploaded the entire movie there. =)
Speaking about films, I also watched 'Your Name is Justine" 2 days ago. Rather decent show, although I was not heavily impressed by it, it does have its moments. It has a tinge of Kafkaesque confinement quality, reminded me of Oldboy in that sense. And of course, a hint of De Sade, obvious from the film name - Justine. Haha. Not too bad, considering I watched it free, I had a movie pass. ^^
Legions, give me a call, ask me out anytime tomorrow onwards. I will be available for stoning, slacking around town, monologue-listening, emo talk, window shopping, bookstore browsing, Landmark hogging (for flourishers), meal-get-togethers, night walks, odd place tours, whatever! Just ask me out. Hehe.
Later, LingNemesis!
Let me list them down for you.
- The Flourishing society here in Singapore is showing signs of recede from The Dark Age, I just hope it sustains.
- Nick "Mephistopheles" Burd has suggested a fucking kickass 1984 Package, which consists of the following paraphernalia. (I confirm the fact that Nick is God from this time onwards)
- 1984 Centennial Edition softcover book
- The 1984 movie (1984 version because the one from the 50s sucked hardcore)
- 1984 Essays
- The Newspeak Dictionary
- Grammar lessons for Newspeak
- Language lessons for Newspeak
- Dominic Muldowney's "The Music of Oceania" (1984's film score; all of these songs were in 1984 as far as I know)
- Eurythmics' "For The Love Of Big Brother" (1984 soundtrack; none of the songs on this CD ever featured in the movie)
- Detailed information on themes/organizations/people from 1984
- An Orwell biography/information on him
- Invitations to Newspeak Dictionary forums, and various other websites/fan clubs like Orwelltoday.com or Newspeak.com/.org
- Winners of the Newspeak Award, similar to the BB award, but this time, awarded to people, governments, and organizations guilty of doublethink, Newspeak, and general arseness.
- 1984 Centennial Edition softcover book
I am most excited about my freedom though. I shall take a picture of my JC notes lumped together once my last paper is done. =) Keep a look on that.
Oh! I watched a damn funny show a few nights ago. Called "Dogma", directed by Kevin Smith, recommended by Vika, now I recommend it to you. Search it up on Youtube, someone kind enough uploaded the entire movie there. =)
Speaking about films, I also watched 'Your Name is Justine" 2 days ago. Rather decent show, although I was not heavily impressed by it, it does have its moments. It has a tinge of Kafkaesque confinement quality, reminded me of Oldboy in that sense. And of course, a hint of De Sade, obvious from the film name - Justine. Haha. Not too bad, considering I watched it free, I had a movie pass. ^^
Legions, give me a call, ask me out anytime tomorrow onwards. I will be available for stoning, slacking around town, monologue-listening, emo talk, window shopping, bookstore browsing, Landmark hogging (for flourishers), meal-get-togethers, night walks, odd place tours, whatever! Just ask me out. Hehe.
Later, LingNemesis!
Tuesday, 20 November 2007
Utah State University Print Sale
This announcement is mostly for the Cache Valley dwellers. On Thursday, November 29th, the Art Department of USU is holding its annual Print Sale, where you can buy original work by USU students, faculty, and alumni.
Reasons why this is cool.
1. Who doesn't want cheap original art?
2. When people come into your living room and admire your walls they won't say, "IKEA, right?" (Not that I don't love and want to marry IKEA, because I absolutely do, but it's nice not to have the exact same stuff that everybody else has.)
3. Original art feeds pretensions of grandeur.
4. You're supporting art students.
5. You might find some great Christmas gifts.
6. You're buying local.
7. AND you're buying handmade.
8. If the artist ever becomes big it will make you look like the most discerning art buyer ever, you with your early-original-owning self. And then maybe you could sell it for a million dollars and buy yourself a cottage in Derbyshire where you will eat brie and Thornton's chocolate and make out with British men all day long.
So even if you can't get to L****, it might be worth it to see if the art department at your local university does something like this.
Reasons why this is cool.
1. Who doesn't want cheap original art?
2. When people come into your living room and admire your walls they won't say, "IKEA, right?" (Not that I don't love and want to marry IKEA, because I absolutely do, but it's nice not to have the exact same stuff that everybody else has.)
3. Original art feeds pretensions of grandeur.
4. You're supporting art students.
5. You might find some great Christmas gifts.
6. You're buying local.
7. AND you're buying handmade.
8. If the artist ever becomes big it will make you look like the most discerning art buyer ever, you with your early-original-owning self. And then maybe you could sell it for a million dollars and buy yourself a cottage in Derbyshire where you will eat brie and Thornton's chocolate and make out with British men all day long.
So even if you can't get to L****, it might be worth it to see if the art department at your local university does something like this.
Monday, 19 November 2007
Editors don't get paid nearly enough
Part of my job at the moment is to do all the purchasing for the library, and one thing I look at is the New York Times Book Review bestseller list.Number 1 for last week is Book of the Dead by Patricia Cornwell. I went over to Amazon but saw that it has received 102 customer reviews with an average rating of 2.5 out of 5 stars. Which, ouch. Then I saw the first customer review and I absolutely had to share this bit with you. Props to eagle-eyed Top 1000 reviewer Terry Matthews, who notes:
Between pages 65, 66 and 67, Cornwell writes
"...he's done the unthinkable."
"...he might be capable of the unthinkable."
"...not if he did the unthinkable."
"He may have done the unthinkable."
"...she hopes ... that the unthinkable hasn't happened."
"Assuming he's done the unthinkable..."
What's *unthinkable* is that this mess got through the editing process. Is there no one brave enough to stand up and say, "Miss Cornwell, this won't do. Bring it back when it's worthy to print or get a ghost writer."?
Wow. That is so, so very awesome, especially when you consider that "unthinkable" is pretty much a word you use when you don't know what else to say but want to sound all dramatic. And to use that word 6 times in three pages? Means you were suffering from a pretty big mind fart. I think I'll hold off on this one. If people as for it I could always show them the bad reviews and ask, "Are you sure?"
Sunday, 18 November 2007
Thanksgivingish svithe
A couple of weeks ago I decided to resurrect the journal I'd been keeping on my computer. Because it turns out that I've gotten so used to keyboards that the idea of actually having to laboriously write . . . out . . . words . . . on . . . paper just seems tortuous. Especially since most of the things I want to say already exist in e-form on a blog or email. And really, shouldn't we be to the point now where we can just stick a USB cable in our ear and beam the stuff onto a laptop? C'mon!
I tried to go back to the paper journals because I do love pretty journals. Their portable nature is good too for when you're in church but it's kind of being boring that day so you can write "to do" lists and blogging ideas but people will think you're taking notes on what the speaker/teacher is saying and are therefore pretty much the most righteous person in the room. As my sad, sad journal will attest, though, real journal-writing just isn't happening. (Note: This does not mean that people should stop buying me pretty journals as go-to gifts. Never, never stop.)
Anyway. Looked through old England journal entries on my computer and found this one. It was right after the WR breakup of 2006, which sort of threw my life plans into a tailspin since I'd been looking at becoming an English trophy wife/librarian. This was (and still is) on my list of Life Goals Which If Met Will Mean All My Wildest Dreams Have Come True (#7: Become English. Or, failing that, Marry British Man).
Back to the journal entry. A group of us, including WR, drove up to the Preston Temple for the day, which I figured would be good for my psyche. A few awkward moments early on at the temple had me casting my eyes heavenward to ask "Why do you HATE ME??"
But then:
". . . during the session I started feeling better, and I watched the temple workers and thought about how I almost got to be one of them back when I lived in UT, and how I would still really like to do that. Then I realized that if I moved back to UT I could do that. And I could do a lot of other things that I really like to do and suddenly realized that I was kind of missing, like seeing my friends and eating at my restaurants and having my stuff and going to the Utah Shakespearean Festival.
And then I wondered if maybe that was something that I was meant to start thinking about, since it did come to me there in the temple and all, so I kept thinking about it. And it still feels kind of good."
I read this just as my sisters and I were planning our Weekend of Relaxation, which I was beyond excited about. And even though I really miss England, and the things I did there and the friends I made, I'm glad things happened the way they did. I'm glad that, at least for now, I'm close to family and we can do things like this together. I'm glad I live 3 minutes away from Spitfire and that we get to be real friends for pretty much the first time ever.
I never thought of myself as someone who needed a lot of family around. I've gotten pretty good at creating Urban Singleton Families where needed. And it's lucky for us that we have things like that, otherwise I know I would be tempted every now and then to put a bomb in my mouth (tm Sakhmet). But I can almost sympathize now with those crazies who buy up entire neighborhood cul-de-sacs and have their family members move in next door so they can create some sort of compound and share food storage or whatever it is that they do.
Because we're a bunch of nomads in my family, I have no idea where we'll all end up. And at this point I don't really see L**** as the place where I'll spend the rest of my life. There aren't enough British men here, for one thing. But I'm glad that I have this time to be near family. And that we can support and enjoy each other in ways we couldn't if we lived farther apart.
So this Thanksgiving I am thankful for Spitfire, Jenny, Ed, Savvy, and Baby Ethan. I love you!
I tried to go back to the paper journals because I do love pretty journals. Their portable nature is good too for when you're in church but it's kind of being boring that day so you can write "to do" lists and blogging ideas but people will think you're taking notes on what the speaker/teacher is saying and are therefore pretty much the most righteous person in the room. As my sad, sad journal will attest, though, real journal-writing just isn't happening. (Note: This does not mean that people should stop buying me pretty journals as go-to gifts. Never, never stop.)
Anyway. Looked through old England journal entries on my computer and found this one. It was right after the WR breakup of 2006, which sort of threw my life plans into a tailspin since I'd been looking at becoming an English trophy wife/librarian. This was (and still is) on my list of Life Goals Which If Met Will Mean All My Wildest Dreams Have Come True (#7: Become English. Or, failing that, Marry British Man).
Back to the journal entry. A group of us, including WR, drove up to the Preston Temple for the day, which I figured would be good for my psyche. A few awkward moments early on at the temple had me casting my eyes heavenward to ask "Why do you HATE ME??"
But then:
". . . during the session I started feeling better, and I watched the temple workers and thought about how I almost got to be one of them back when I lived in UT, and how I would still really like to do that. Then I realized that if I moved back to UT I could do that. And I could do a lot of other things that I really like to do and suddenly realized that I was kind of missing, like seeing my friends and eating at my restaurants and having my stuff and going to the Utah Shakespearean Festival.
And then I wondered if maybe that was something that I was meant to start thinking about, since it did come to me there in the temple and all, so I kept thinking about it. And it still feels kind of good."
I read this just as my sisters and I were planning our Weekend of Relaxation, which I was beyond excited about. And even though I really miss England, and the things I did there and the friends I made, I'm glad things happened the way they did. I'm glad that, at least for now, I'm close to family and we can do things like this together. I'm glad I live 3 minutes away from Spitfire and that we get to be real friends for pretty much the first time ever.
I never thought of myself as someone who needed a lot of family around. I've gotten pretty good at creating Urban Singleton Families where needed. And it's lucky for us that we have things like that, otherwise I know I would be tempted every now and then to put a bomb in my mouth (tm Sakhmet). But I can almost sympathize now with those crazies who buy up entire neighborhood cul-de-sacs and have their family members move in next door so they can create some sort of compound and share food storage or whatever it is that they do.
Because we're a bunch of nomads in my family, I have no idea where we'll all end up. And at this point I don't really see L**** as the place where I'll spend the rest of my life. There aren't enough British men here, for one thing. But I'm glad that I have this time to be near family. And that we can support and enjoy each other in ways we couldn't if we lived farther apart.
So this Thanksgiving I am thankful for Spitfire, Jenny, Ed, Savvy, and Baby Ethan. I love you!
Wednesday, 14 November 2007
Conversation yesterday in a car, which is apparently the only approved way of getting around in L****
"Okay, look. See? This is what I'm talking about. That guy in the wheelchair is going to come to the end of the sidewalk and there's no slopy thing for him to go down. There's just a curb. He's going to be stuck there!"
"That's not good."
"No, it's not good, and that's my point about L**** and the stupid sidewalks. Where's he supposed to go, huh? Is he supposed to go up in the grass? What if his wheelchair won't make it?"
"I dunno."
"Is he going to try to go over the curb? Because the last thing I need to see today is a cripple pitching forward out of his wheelchair and landing on his face in the street."
"Not on a Wednesday, at least. On a Monday, maybe . . ."
"Yeah, because on Mondays you could use a laugh."
"But on a Wednesday that's just cruel."
"That's not good."
"No, it's not good, and that's my point about L**** and the stupid sidewalks. Where's he supposed to go, huh? Is he supposed to go up in the grass? What if his wheelchair won't make it?"
"I dunno."
"Is he going to try to go over the curb? Because the last thing I need to see today is a cripple pitching forward out of his wheelchair and landing on his face in the street."
"Not on a Wednesday, at least. On a Monday, maybe . . ."
"Yeah, because on Mondays you could use a laugh."
"But on a Wednesday that's just cruel."
Tuesday, 13 November 2007
Every day should be relaxation day
Spitfire and I had Monday (Veteran's Day) off, so we decided to commemorate the sacrifices of veterans everywhere by treating ourselves to a day of debauchery. We grabbed Jenny and drove up to Park City in order to temporarily escape from our lives. Not that our lives are bad, because they're not, but we're pretty much all going through crazy stressful times and we figured a bit of a Hen Night was preferable to one day snapping and buying some kind of high-powered rifle and climbing the nearest building with it. I'm sure you agree.
At the hotel we sat in the hot tub, did pedicures and manicures, gave each other back rubs, and ate dangerous amounts of Brie, focaccia bread, apples, hot chocolate, and no-bake cookies. I told Jen before the trip that even though I love her nobakes, I always get a gastrointestinal complaint when I eat them. Her response: That's because you're not supposed to eat seven at a time.
She's a jerk.
Her solution was for me to only eat two and see how my gastrointestinal system dealt with it. Only this did not seem a good plan to me because it would mean I only got two cookies. So I tried to cut back but apparently I failed. And it turns out that the windows in our hotel room don't open. Which is too bad.
During the pedicures the three of us wedged ourselves onto the side of the bathtub so we could keep our feet in the tub for the rinsing. It was kind of precarious, and I'm sure from the back we resembled three hippos at the watering hole.
The next morning (after the alarm on my cell phone went off, which Jenny says is one of the worst things she's ever heard and which I claim is the reason why I'm in a bad mood every day--if anyone knows of any precious, gentle, kind alarms do let me know) we hit the Outlet Mall, World Market, and downtown Park City. The weather was sunny and beautiful and everything was just relaxed and perfect.
At the World Market I got holiday crackers for Christmas dinner, real Whole Nut Cadbury bars, a bag of French lavender for cooking, two vanilla beans for $2.99, and two more sets of chopsticks to replace ones which have either been stolen or have simply run away to find a home where they'll actually get used. I love that store. I could wander around in there all day long.
My new favorite Park City bookstore is called Dolly's and is right next to the Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. This store is cozy and wonderful and so are the people who work there and they keep live cats sleeping in a basket. Jenny discovered this cool new edition of Pippi Longstocking, which I had not even known about but must buy immediately for the library.
We wanted to have lunch at Bistro 412 (turn your speakers off if you don't want your mind polluted with the sweet singings of French men, Dad) in keeping with our weekend of Estrogen and The Finer Things, but it was closed. Jerks. So after roaming the street for forever (lots of places are closed right now) we decided on Bandits' Grill and Bar. The only problem with this place is that it's right next the Hungry Moose Grill, which is awful. Last year when my parents were visiting we accidentally went to this place for dinner because I mistook it for Bandits. Do not make the same mistake.Spitfire and Jen split a guacamole burger, and I got the Kobe Black & Bleu, which was an American Kobe beef burger with bleu cheese, caramelized onions, lettuce, and tomato. It was amazingly good. We had a tiny bit of room left for dessert, so when our server listed brownie sundae as one of the options we ordered one to split between the three of us. And then she, assisted by a forklift, brought it out to us.
And yes, that is a full-sized skillet underneath it and a full-sized waterglass next to it. Other people in the restaurant stared and asked what unholy thing we'd just done. We did our best but couldn't come close to finishing. Which, okay, I get that for presentation's sake that's a really clever thing. But we didn't need that much dessert. We couldn't eat that much dessert. They don't put the desserts on the menu but instead list them at the table, so that you don't see a price to tip you off about the size. I'm just saying. It was good, but unnecessarily (and somewhat deceptively) huge. I'm just warning you for when you go.
Monday, 12 November 2007
Am having relaxational Girls Day OutI
I'm in Park City with my sisters today, playing Refugee from Real Life. We're about to hit World Market and the Outlet Mall and Main Street. Expect pictures and stories tomorrow!
Sunday, 11 November 2007
=)
Recently, I have been listening to quite abit of Kitaro, especially during my (largely irregular) meditation sessions.
I found a great paragraph in the lyric booklet of Mandala CD, it's written beautifully. Here it goes;
I found a great paragraph in the lyric booklet of Mandala CD, it's written beautifully. Here it goes;
" The Great Spirit
Great spirit.
All living things come face to face with The Great Spirit,
And the Great Spirit dwells within all living beings.
Tree, Flower, Water, Earth, Wind ... all things.
At times the Great Spirit is severe.
At times the Great Spirit is soothing.
Encompassing all life.
Everyplace the Great Spirit dwells is the source of gentle crytsalline light.
And within that light we become One.
Floating as if in our mother's warm body.
Living together as children of the earth.
Without time...
Without end... "
Great spirit.
All living things come face to face with The Great Spirit,
And the Great Spirit dwells within all living beings.
Tree, Flower, Water, Earth, Wind ... all things.
At times the Great Spirit is severe.
At times the Great Spirit is soothing.
Encompassing all life.
Everyplace the Great Spirit dwells is the source of gentle crytsalline light.
And within that light we become One.
Floating as if in our mother's warm body.
Living together as children of the earth.
Without time...
Without end... "
Just try and quieten your mind down for a minute and breathe deeply, feeling that Great Spirit fill up inside you. Feel the sheer bliss within your body. That is nirvana for you. =) It is that simple.
Friday, 9 November 2007
Lazy Friday
Lazy on the blogging front, that is. I'm being a crazy person at work. But I need to take a moment to brag about my book club, which is The New Awesome. We met a couple of weeks ago to chat about Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. The theme for the food was "local," and it just had to incorporate some kind of local product. Up here we have Weeks Jam, Aggie ice cream, Cox honey, and all kinds of good stuff. Here are some of the things we had:
Zollinger apple cider
Gossner's smoked squeaky cheese
Goldfish crackers from the nearby Pepperidge Farm plant, which, yes, kind of a cheat, but hey--I love me some goldfish. (Note: You can also buy 2-lb bags of Godiva chocolate for $8 there, which is pretty much the way to buy my love.)
I made a rustic apple tart using Pepperidge Farm puff pastry and brought Gossner's cream to pour over it. It was dang good, if I do say so myself, and really easy. The most time-consuming part was peeling and slicing all the apples.
(pic from Martha Stewart's Everyday Food: Great Foods Fast cookbook, which you should really go buy right now because it's amazing.)
Next month we're reading The City of Ember, and it's a bit trickier to know what kind of food goes really well with this. Only canned items? Food that grows in the dark? Bats and baby orcs? None of these sound especially appealing to me.
Zollinger apple cider
Gossner's smoked squeaky cheese
Goldfish crackers from the nearby Pepperidge Farm plant, which, yes, kind of a cheat, but hey--I love me some goldfish. (Note: You can also buy 2-lb bags of Godiva chocolate for $8 there, which is pretty much the way to buy my love.)
I made a rustic apple tart using Pepperidge Farm puff pastry and brought Gossner's cream to pour over it. It was dang good, if I do say so myself, and really easy. The most time-consuming part was peeling and slicing all the apples.
(pic from Martha Stewart's Everyday Food: Great Foods Fast cookbook, which you should really go buy right now because it's amazing.)Next month we're reading The City of Ember, and it's a bit trickier to know what kind of food goes really well with this. Only canned items? Food that grows in the dark? Bats and baby orcs? None of these sound especially appealing to me.
Thursday, 8 November 2007
I would be the Queen of merit badges
I have a friend who works for a news station and does all kinds of cool video and video-editing stuff. The other day he said he'd been asked to go teach a local Boy Scouts troop a bit about what he does. It's for their Cinematography merit badge.
My friend couldn't believe they had a Cinematography merit badge, since he never heard anything about that when he was a Boy Scout. In his words:
"I didn't know they had cool merit badges. All we ever did was crap like the Run for 100 Miles merit badge or the Let's Go Out in the Freezing Cold and Shoot Stuff with Arrows badge. If I'd known I could have been doing Cinematography it would have been way different."
I told him not to forget the "Just play basketball in the gym every week and call it Scouting and then go steal refreshments from the girls who actually planned a real activity" badge. Not that I'm bitter. But seriously. You don't steal my treats. I'm sure my reactions to such thievery had something to do with why I didn't get asked out much in high school. Like I wanted to date lazy, self-entitled brownie stealers, though.
Anyway.
Not to rub it in, but I just looked it up and there are even more cool things my friend could have been learning but probably didn't:
Citizenship in the World
Environmental Science
Fingerprinting
Public Speaking
Theater
Painting
Law
Photography
Crime Prevention
Cool, huh? And here's my friend who didn't know about these, which is probably the reason why he never got his Eagle Scout (which, according to Scout propaganda people and LDS mothers, means that you will never be employable and that Eagle Scouts will always beat you out for anything you may ever want in life, because they're just better). Despite this, he still seems to be a semi-functioning individual. I think you can tell that the hurt is still there, though.
The LDS Church is really involved with the Boy Scouts of America and encourages its boys to participate. And I guess I see how that would have been started: Here's this organization which, back in the day, was already doing and promoting the kinds of things Church leaders wanted their boys to be learning. So by hitching their wagon to the Boy Scouts, they avoided a duplication of effort.
Only it's trickier for the girls, because we have absolutely nothing to do with the Girl Scouts of America. For the girls, the Church created its own goal-setting/personal advancement-type program. And I wonder why that is. Are the Girls Scouts too hard-core? Not hard-core enough? Too many cookies? Not enough lessons about drinking 3-5 servings of milk per day to prepare our bodies for childbearing?
Would love to hear your thoughts.
My friend couldn't believe they had a Cinematography merit badge, since he never heard anything about that when he was a Boy Scout. In his words:
"I didn't know they had cool merit badges. All we ever did was crap like the Run for 100 Miles merit badge or the Let's Go Out in the Freezing Cold and Shoot Stuff with Arrows badge. If I'd known I could have been doing Cinematography it would have been way different."
I told him not to forget the "Just play basketball in the gym every week and call it Scouting and then go steal refreshments from the girls who actually planned a real activity" badge. Not that I'm bitter. But seriously. You don't steal my treats. I'm sure my reactions to such thievery had something to do with why I didn't get asked out much in high school. Like I wanted to date lazy, self-entitled brownie stealers, though.
Anyway.
Not to rub it in, but I just looked it up and there are even more cool things my friend could have been learning but probably didn't:
Citizenship in the World
Environmental Science
Fingerprinting
Public Speaking
Theater
Painting
Law
Photography
Crime Prevention
Cool, huh? And here's my friend who didn't know about these, which is probably the reason why he never got his Eagle Scout (which, according to Scout propaganda people and LDS mothers, means that you will never be employable and that Eagle Scouts will always beat you out for anything you may ever want in life, because they're just better). Despite this, he still seems to be a semi-functioning individual. I think you can tell that the hurt is still there, though.
The LDS Church is really involved with the Boy Scouts of America and encourages its boys to participate. And I guess I see how that would have been started: Here's this organization which, back in the day, was already doing and promoting the kinds of things Church leaders wanted their boys to be learning. So by hitching their wagon to the Boy Scouts, they avoided a duplication of effort.
Only it's trickier for the girls, because we have absolutely nothing to do with the Girl Scouts of America. For the girls, the Church created its own goal-setting/personal advancement-type program. And I wonder why that is. Are the Girls Scouts too hard-core? Not hard-core enough? Too many cookies? Not enough lessons about drinking 3-5 servings of milk per day to prepare our bodies for childbearing?
Would love to hear your thoughts.
Wednesday, 7 November 2007
Voting and other Public Services
And now I can say that my boobs have been on the Internet.
So I voted yesterday, which made me very proud and pleased. Except I wasn't on the ball enough to re-register at my new address so I had to fill out a provisional ballot which may or may not even count. Whatever, though. I got to wear the "I'm cool and civic-minded" sticker and that's what really matters.
One of the polling stations was here in the library's meeting room, and around 6pm I discovered a tiny problem--namely, that there were about 3,000 small children running around unsupervised in the library. Lots of parents were coming to vote (yay!) and bringing their kids (also yay!). The dumping them off in the children's section and then leaving to go to a room at the other end of the building? Not so much yay.
There were kids who were crying because they didn't know where their parents were. There was the 4-year old who was roaming up and down the hallways with a trembling lip. There was the 7-yr old who'd been put in charge of an entire herd of kiddies. It was actually kind of heart-breaking.
I started with the criers first, marching them down the hall to their parents, who then got to listen to the Why We Do Not Leave Small Crying Children Alone talk. But it became clear that there were too many kids to do this one-by-one. So I went in the polling station, asked if I could make a brief announcement, stood on a chair, introduced myself, and requested that the parents who may have accidentally left their children in the library unattended and unsafe go retrieve those children right now.
Because seriously, people. Seriously!
The thing that baffles me is that these are good parents. These are probably parents who buy car seats and check to make sure they're properly installed. They worry about the amount of sugar and TV their kids get each day. They make sure the kids have enough clothes on and that their pajamas are flame-retardant. And yet, and yet, there's somehow this blind spot when it comes to leaving them alone and walking away, trusting that nothing will happen, or that if it does someone else will be watching out for them.
Who exactly is this "someone else" supposed to be? Another child? Busy library staff who have absolutely no way of knowing which kids are without a parent? Someone who claims to be a neighbor or "from the same ward" but who could actually be anyone? The registered sex offender from down the street who has come in to vote?
And it's not like these kids can take care of themselves. Let me tell you, I have never had a small child refuse to go with me when I say, "Let's go find your mom." They always take my hand and walk with me, even though I could be escorting them directly into the dark parking lot and possibly the trunk of my car. And it's scary to think of who else they might trust and follow.
So if any of the parents who read this have ever done something like this (whether it's a library or a waiting room or wherever) or have considered doing something like this, please please please rethink it. I'm not saying this just because I am a librarian who has enough to do without becoming an unwitting day-care provider, although that's certainly true. I am saying this because even though my heart may be mostly cold and shriveled and undersized, the bit that does work actually cares quite a lot about your children and wants them to be safe.
So I voted yesterday, which made me very proud and pleased. Except I wasn't on the ball enough to re-register at my new address so I had to fill out a provisional ballot which may or may not even count. Whatever, though. I got to wear the "I'm cool and civic-minded" sticker and that's what really matters.
One of the polling stations was here in the library's meeting room, and around 6pm I discovered a tiny problem--namely, that there were about 3,000 small children running around unsupervised in the library. Lots of parents were coming to vote (yay!) and bringing their kids (also yay!). The dumping them off in the children's section and then leaving to go to a room at the other end of the building? Not so much yay.
There were kids who were crying because they didn't know where their parents were. There was the 4-year old who was roaming up and down the hallways with a trembling lip. There was the 7-yr old who'd been put in charge of an entire herd of kiddies. It was actually kind of heart-breaking.
I started with the criers first, marching them down the hall to their parents, who then got to listen to the Why We Do Not Leave Small Crying Children Alone talk. But it became clear that there were too many kids to do this one-by-one. So I went in the polling station, asked if I could make a brief announcement, stood on a chair, introduced myself, and requested that the parents who may have accidentally left their children in the library unattended and unsafe go retrieve those children right now.
Because seriously, people. Seriously!
The thing that baffles me is that these are good parents. These are probably parents who buy car seats and check to make sure they're properly installed. They worry about the amount of sugar and TV their kids get each day. They make sure the kids have enough clothes on and that their pajamas are flame-retardant. And yet, and yet, there's somehow this blind spot when it comes to leaving them alone and walking away, trusting that nothing will happen, or that if it does someone else will be watching out for them.
Who exactly is this "someone else" supposed to be? Another child? Busy library staff who have absolutely no way of knowing which kids are without a parent? Someone who claims to be a neighbor or "from the same ward" but who could actually be anyone? The registered sex offender from down the street who has come in to vote?
And it's not like these kids can take care of themselves. Let me tell you, I have never had a small child refuse to go with me when I say, "Let's go find your mom." They always take my hand and walk with me, even though I could be escorting them directly into the dark parking lot and possibly the trunk of my car. And it's scary to think of who else they might trust and follow.
So if any of the parents who read this have ever done something like this (whether it's a library or a waiting room or wherever) or have considered doing something like this, please please please rethink it. I'm not saying this just because I am a librarian who has enough to do without becoming an unwitting day-care provider, although that's certainly true. I am saying this because even though my heart may be mostly cold and shriveled and undersized, the bit that does work actually cares quite a lot about your children and wants them to be safe.
Tuesday, 6 November 2007
I have been thinking.
Or aimlessly pondering on why Johnny Depp and Peter Tagtgren look so alike for the past few weeks.
I came to no answer but I derived a conclusion that they are both great artists, but biased me have to vote for Tagtgren more because he is just fucking talented and twisted. Me likey! =D
Go Tagtgren, go!
I came to no answer but I derived a conclusion that they are both great artists, but biased me have to vote for Tagtgren more because he is just fucking talented and twisted. Me likey! =D
Go Tagtgren, go!My first guest post ever
It can be found over at Cicada's blog. For those who aren't going to click over (although I can't think of a single good reason not to) I have to share this one bit from the post:
Seriously.
First off, could there be anything uglier?
Secondly, what is up with wearing something like that to the temple? I mean, if you're not supposed to wear flip-flops to church then you're definitely not supposed to wear Muppet Shoes in the temple. Some have suggested that maybe this lady had an operation on her feet or something which prevented her from being able to wear normal shoes which were not Made By the Devil His Own Self. But surely, surely, if that were the case then these shoes would not be your only option.
What are some of the more inappropriate clothing choices you've seen lately?
We waited outside on the grounds while the wedding party got changed into their tuxes and other finery for the pictures. And while we waited Daltongirl saw something so arresting that she grabbed the top of my head and swiveled my neck over so that I could see it too. A lady walked out of the temple wearing the most extraordinary footwear I have ever before seen in life. She walked over to a bench and sat down, where I hope she pondered the choice she just made to go into the Lord's House dressed like a yeti:
Seriously.
First off, could there be anything uglier?
Secondly, what is up with wearing something like that to the temple? I mean, if you're not supposed to wear flip-flops to church then you're definitely not supposed to wear Muppet Shoes in the temple. Some have suggested that maybe this lady had an operation on her feet or something which prevented her from being able to wear normal shoes which were not Made By the Devil His Own Self. But surely, surely, if that were the case then these shoes would not be your only option.
What are some of the more inappropriate clothing choices you've seen lately?
Extreme relief.
6th November 2007, 5pm, marks my last encounter with Mathematics - the third worse thing in the Known Universe since squat toilets, ever, if possible my entire swearing life. =D
Congratulate me!
I was so overjoyed with the abovementioned fact that in the spur of ectasty, I drew this in the exam hall, which attracted a few odd stares from the examiners, which was non-chalantly ignored by me. Here's a picture of it;
Plus, I am halfway through the A Level Ordeal, time is rather fast. And, thankfully, I have sufficient confidence in my work I have submitted thus far. Be the same for the second half, thank you! Haha.
But right now, I have to wait in agony for one week for the next paper. Agonising it was, I was droven by it to lay out my CD Collection for a little photo taking session, which I absent-mindedly forgot all about my much loved Dissection's Rebirth of Dissection DVD, sigh. Nonetheless, here's a picture of it;
Til the stars collide and combine into a stable addition product,
- Ling.
Congratulate me!
I was so overjoyed with the abovementioned fact that in the spur of ectasty, I drew this in the exam hall, which attracted a few odd stares from the examiners, which was non-chalantly ignored by me. Here's a picture of it;
Plus, I am halfway through the A Level Ordeal, time is rather fast. And, thankfully, I have sufficient confidence in my work I have submitted thus far. Be the same for the second half, thank you! Haha.
But right now, I have to wait in agony for one week for the next paper. Agonising it was, I was droven by it to lay out my CD Collection for a little photo taking session, which I absent-mindedly forgot all about my much loved Dissection's Rebirth of Dissection DVD, sigh. Nonetheless, here's a picture of it;
Til the stars collide and combine into a stable addition product,
- Ling.
Monday, 5 November 2007
Happy Guy Fawkes Day!
I nearly forgot! Today we commemorate the failed plot of 1605 to blow up Parliament. So if any of you have been hankering to burn something, tonight's a good night to do it. If anyone questions you you'll have a ready excuse. If, however, your target is a government building, you might want to keep in mind what happened to Guy (at least according to the good people at Madame Tussaud's).
I'm just saying.
I'm just saying.
Quite the productive weekend
We done got Cicada and Murray hitched this weekend (to each other, as planned, rather than to other people, which would have been awkward). It was all quite nice. Expect stories, for there are several. In fact, Daltongirl and I are going to be guest blogging over at Cicada Song this week while the happy couple are honeymooning in Costa Rica. So you won't even have to wait until they get back to get answers to these and other pressing questions:
What did Cicada's dress look like?
What bit of inspired advice from the temple officiator left Daltongirl and me raising both eyebrows?
Which newlywed couple went AWOL between the ceremony and the reception, causing Jenny and me to get this scene from Arrested Development stuck in our heads?
Who narrowly escaped death in the reception hall kitchen?
Stay tuned.
I believe, though, that the weekend accomplishment which brought me the most pride had nothing to do with the wedding. Sunday morning little Ethan saw me cutting up some brie (leftovers from the reception) and asked for a taste. I gave him a tiny piece, figuring he would hate it just as he hates all other Foods Which Are Not Tikka Masala. Because seriously. This kid will act like you're trying to poison him when you give him kid-friendly items, but take him into the Indian Oven and he'll eat everything on his plate and then lunge for yours in the manner of a rabid stoat.
I gave Ethan the brie, figuring he would spit it out, give me a dirty look, and then head into the guest room to urinate on my pillow. But he didn't. He asked for more, and when I gave him a bigger slice he crammed the thing into his mouth.
This was pretty much the proudest moment of my life. My nephew loves brie. He will grow up and I will invite him to my Pride & Prejudice parties where we will eat the brie together. And possibly I'll get him a French aristocrat costume for next year's Halloween.
Aaaand that was the sound of my father falling off his chair, clutching his left arm.
What did Cicada's dress look like?
What bit of inspired advice from the temple officiator left Daltongirl and me raising both eyebrows?
Which newlywed couple went AWOL between the ceremony and the reception, causing Jenny and me to get this scene from Arrested Development stuck in our heads?
Who narrowly escaped death in the reception hall kitchen?
Stay tuned.
I believe, though, that the weekend accomplishment which brought me the most pride had nothing to do with the wedding. Sunday morning little Ethan saw me cutting up some brie (leftovers from the reception) and asked for a taste. I gave him a tiny piece, figuring he would hate it just as he hates all other Foods Which Are Not Tikka Masala. Because seriously. This kid will act like you're trying to poison him when you give him kid-friendly items, but take him into the Indian Oven and he'll eat everything on his plate and then lunge for yours in the manner of a rabid stoat.
I gave Ethan the brie, figuring he would spit it out, give me a dirty look, and then head into the guest room to urinate on my pillow. But he didn't. He asked for more, and when I gave him a bigger slice he crammed the thing into his mouth.
This was pretty much the proudest moment of my life. My nephew loves brie. He will grow up and I will invite him to my Pride & Prejudice parties where we will eat the brie together. And possibly I'll get him a French aristocrat costume for next year's Halloween.
Aaaand that was the sound of my father falling off his chair, clutching his left arm.Friday, 2 November 2007
Guilty Friday treat
I know I'm slacking, I promise next week will be better. Running the world is hard, y'all. Also I apologize that you had to look at my sick green face on Halloween. It looked even worse close up and I had to sacrifice a Sonia Kashuk foundation brush to get it looking that way. (While at my bathroom mirror I lost all sense of perspective and forgot that "better" is not always the same as "good.")
Anyway. Lucky for me I didn't worry too much about the face (and neck, and upper chest, and pores shrieking in agony while planning a high-stakes revolt) because I was busier worrying about the fact my hair was still damp when I crammed it underneath that wig and it was probably mildewing and was going to fall right off any second.
Good times.
So here is my guilty Friday pleasure--the trailer for Wanted, which is almost sure to be one craptastic movie. And yet I cannot look away because hi, we're talking James McAvoy (whom I am currently dating), Angelina Jolie in Mr. & Mrs. Smith mode, and Morgan Freeman. I think they possibly just got him so that he could narrate the trailer and give an ounce of plausibility to this whole thing. But whatever. You should watch it and laugh at your desk like I'm doing right now.
Anyway. Lucky for me I didn't worry too much about the face (and neck, and upper chest, and pores shrieking in agony while planning a high-stakes revolt) because I was busier worrying about the fact my hair was still damp when I crammed it underneath that wig and it was probably mildewing and was going to fall right off any second.
Good times.
So here is my guilty Friday pleasure--the trailer for Wanted, which is almost sure to be one craptastic movie. And yet I cannot look away because hi, we're talking James McAvoy (whom I am currently dating), Angelina Jolie in Mr. & Mrs. Smith mode, and Morgan Freeman. I think they possibly just got him so that he could narrate the trailer and give an ounce of plausibility to this whole thing. But whatever. You should watch it and laugh at your desk like I'm doing right now.
