Spring Jam 2007

I feel the passion again. I need Trilogy, badly. US$65.

Ah, the embed player doesnt seem to work. Click on this link!

Damn the Jones change. So darn sexy. Ugh!

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Oh.

I don't even know Dragonforce is coming here later this year. I'm too kvlt.

Good then. Means more hope for Cradle of Filth/Rammstein/ some others. =)

Hiaz, too fucking busy with school. I need a life.

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Dissection - Nights blood Live

I find unlimited inspiration and empowerment from this. Jon's inspiration in me knows no boundary. Awake in chaos, Jon!

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Thoughts that keep bloggers awake at night

This is a recent IM between my sister Jenny and me.

me: I'm worried about my blog.

My stats are going down.

Jenny: I'm sorry.

me: Am I not being funny?

Jenny: I think you are funny. Maybe you should start posting nude photos.

me: Ooooh, good idea.

Jenny: What do you eat at Costa Vida?

me: I've only had their salads. I mean, do people like it better when I'm bitter or something?

Jenny: I guess so. Which isn't good. Bitter is bad.

What does [Spitfire] order?

me: Tiny things.

Jenny: ;) I'd like a half a quesadilla please . . .

me: :-)

me: Maybe it is that I'm not bitter and angsty and unemployed.

Jenny: I bet it is.

me: Because people read my blog when I was home in AK more than they ever did before--I was sure everyone would stop.

Jenny: I always get the most comments when I bemoan life. Remember when I was pregnant and I would bash my in-laws? I was a roaring success. Now, not so much.

me: Hmmm. Must think about this. Only, I'm not angry or miserable, and I don't want to be looking for things to get upset about.

Jenny: I know. So I don't know what to tell you. Maybe you could tell stories.

me: If only people would insult me more . . .

Later that night I talked to my sister Spitfire. It went like this.

Me: Okay, so I'm worried about my blog. My stats are going down.

Spitfire: Maybe it's because you're not as funny anymore.

The End

So. You got your story and I got insulted. Everybody wins!

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20 Random things about me

I decided to go with 20 rather than 50. You're welcome.

1. I use my hands a lot when I talk. Only I don't know ASL, so the hand movements really don't do anyone any good.

2. I pace when I talk on the phone.

3. About once a year I binge on Regency romance novels. That is my guilty reading secret. I like the witty banter (and the 3-paragraph kisses). I hate it if they end up sleeping together before the wedding, because that's just trashy.

4. My pinkies are abnormally short. They're not nubbins or anything, they just don't appear to have grown since 1988.

5. I met Hulk Hogan when I was 10, in my school library.

6. "Love Shack" is quite possibly my least favorite song ever. It makes my brain want to run out my ears.

7. You know how when you bring treats to a gathering there's always the person who takes more than they should? I sometimes worry that I'm that person. I once spent an entire party at the spinach dip.

8. I was almost 20 when I had my first kiss. My mom couldn't believe it, and said my senior prom date should have at least kissed me "to be nice."

9. I talk in my sleep--sometimes so loudly that I wake myself up.

10. Blue foods & drinks creep me out. They fly in the face of nature.

11. I never thought I would graduate from college. I thought I would get engaged after the first year, because people said that's what happens when you go to BYU. I need to go find those people and set them straight.

12. I wish I'd lightened up in high school and had more fun.

13. I'm a wuss when it comes to needles--I almost passed out the last time I got a flu shot.

14. One time Jenny & Ed invited over a friend of his because they wanted to set us up. That will always be remembered as the night I sneezed and farted at the same time. Needless to say, we never went out.

15. I would love to have a low, husky, jazz-singer voice. Instead I sound like a mouse singing through its nose.

16. I blush when I get confrontational. I really wish I didn't, because it's a lot harder to be taken seriously when you're turning bright red from the chest up.

17. I wish I'd been nicer to my little brothers and sisters when we all lived together.

18. I don't like to drive. People who go for a drive when they're upset just baffle me, because driving is one of the things that makes me upset in the first place.

19. I can't drive a stick shift. When I try I make the poor car hop like a frog.

20. I won my state's National History Day competition in high school for my paper on child labor. Of course, it was Alaska so probably only about 3 other people entered. I choose not to let this lessen my triumph.

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This made my week.

I non-chalantly uploaded this picture of me doing a CD review on Thornography onto Roadrunner Records fan art gallery yesterday, since I was bored.

I checked back again just minutes ago, and I found myself being featured. [big grin + adrenaline]

Link.

I'd hope sincerely Cradle of Filth themselves will see it. And, possibly contact me, but that truly remains a little goody dream of mine.

I am happy enough,
Ling
29th March 2007.

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You know, it's a good thing there's good news

Because the bad news is that my alarm woke me up this morning just as I got started making out with McDreamy. So I smashed my alarm to pieces with a hammer and then lit those pieces on fire, because you JUST DON'T DO THAT. I don't think I overreacted at all, do you?



The good news is that I'm going to Washington D.C. next month! The library is sending me to the Computers in Libraries 2007 conference. I'll be gone April 14-19. I get there right after the Cherry Blossom Parade. I hope there will still be some pretty pinkness left over, because I do love me some cherry blossoms.

(And I hope the photographer will forgive me for using his picture without permission but it was by far the nicest. Someone please go buy his stuff so he won't get mad or sue me.)

The conference should be pretty cool. It's timely, too, since we need to get a new automated system sooner rather than later and I'll be able to check out what's what. Also it would be really nice if we could upgrade from Office '97. Little things like that.

In reality, I'll probably just get overloaded with ideas of millions of cool things my library is too tiny/understaffed/rural/poor to be able to do. But hey! Free trip to D.C.! I get all AP U.S. History geekish about the kind of stuff. I haven't been in about 10 years--is there anything new or cool that I should check out?

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I blame you, England

Have been going through the video collection at the library and culling mercilessly. I am the perfect person for this job because although I hate throwing away my own things I quite love chucking other people's. While in the Western section I saw this, snorted like a Clydesdale, and fell on the floor laughing.


And then the pit of Hell opened its gaping maw to receive me.

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In which I begin to heal

I went through my scrapbooks yesterday and came across some old pictures. They were too good not to share with the Internet, now that I've gotten my self-esteem back.

So.


Recognize this cutie? This would be me, looking hot with the white tights. Please note that thick white tights look cute on babies and little girls--not so much on the woman I saw at church last week who paired them with pink open-toed strappy heels. I stared transfixed at her feet for a full 30 seconds before I caught myself. "Wait, is that--? Nooo, it can't be. Only. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh yes it is. Oh. Crap. Crap I'm staring." Anyway, yes. I just want to bite those legs. The baby picture legs, not the church girl legs.


And then we have me at 7 years old. I feel slightly comforted now to realize that I have always had those baggy things under my eyes when I smile and am not slowly turning into a bridge-dwelling troll as I've begun to fear. This is what my mom had in mind those times when I was about 13 and she would sigh, "You were such a pretty little girl . . ."

Here we have 6th grade. This was the last picture of me with decent hair until college. I'm not even lying. How I mourn for what was about to happen to this poor unsuspecting girl . . .


. . . namely, this. It turned dark and curly. Only look how precious it is that I'm trying to style it the exact same way I had it last year. This continued for years--me not understanding what to do with the thatched afro suddenly residing on my head. I never did figure it out. It just grew until the sheer weight of it dragged the curl out.

Which brings us to the all-important Senior Picture. In which I'm wearing a sweater from the Anchorage Costco. This was back before Gap and Old Navy migrated to Alaska, and when Costo's clothing selection consisted of Carhartt overalls (boys wore them to my high school), armpit-high Calvin Klein jeans, and lumberjack sweaters like mine. It's probably the weight of my hair that's dragging my head back. I ended up with 3 different pictures, and I'm so sad that I can't find the one where I'm cuddling a fake tree stump.

My freshman year at BYU a rappelling incident resulted in an emergency chin-length haircut (figure eight + ponytail = not good). Will have to tell that story later. Then during my London study abroad I chopped it boy-short. And since no one ever believes me when I tell them how short it was, I've included a picture. I thought it was sassy. My darling b-in-law says I must never do that again if I want to embark on anything other than same-sex relationships. I make no promises, though.

Which brings us to today. It's kind of disorienting for me to get compliments on my hair now because I was teased about it and hated it for so long. I wonder how many people turn up at their high-school reunions for shallow reasons like that. "Hello everyone. I'm still single, live with roommates, and plan to adopt 7 cats any day now. Only HAVE YOU SEEN MY HAIR?"

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Been a week

It's been a while since I updated this. Let's see what happened that is worth mentioning. I had two awesome chill out sessions with Jaspas and Valerie, one of which involves walking, singing Natioal Day Songs and talking nonsense all the way from Plaza Singapura to Clarke Quay. ^^ The other is about a long chat about comsology in physics over at Macdonalds.

Otherwise, I have been chatting regularly with Vika, she mentioned that I'm the only br00tal and tr00 metalhead that she actually liked. Yay! She's reading Orwell's 1984 finally, after all the brainwashing. Heh. She's disturbed after reading it for 30 minutes, haha, Orwell is God.

Bah. I'm really whacked now. It's 3.30 AM, the hunger is gnawing on my insides, and my brain feels fried and I'm listening to the weirdest music on Earth - Sunn O))) on my mp3. I should go sleep.

One thought came into my mind this week. "It explains alot when I have a person who committed suicidal for my role model." *Per Yngve Ohlin and Jon Novtident* ^-^

Shove me to my bed, please, someone?
Ling

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I think his tractor's sexy

My sister took me country-swing dancing the other night. You'll remember that I predicted this way back last summer--that country dancing would probably be my only real option once I'm back in the States. And since I ended up in cattle country or whatever it's even more true.

So. I went, and it was actually a lot of fun. I hadn't been dancing since last summer and oh my how I've missed it. It felt so great just to be out there. Country swing is not too different to ceroc, actually. There is less adherence to any sort of beat, and there are more dislocated shoulders from cowboys flinging you about as if you were an unruly calf or similar.

Also there are line dances (like every other song) which I'm not terribly crazy about. The only line dance I learned in England was at that seventies bar. It was set to Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff," which . . . yeah. Won't be breaking out that one anytime soon. All in all, still good fun. I wore my lucky shirt, so I got asked to dance a reasonable number of times. (The universe bends to my will when I wear this shirt. It's a fact.) The crowd seemed to be mostly Utah State students, and one boy asked me how old I was.

Me: "I'm 27."

Him: "Oh, okay."

Me: "And how old are you?"

Him: "I'm, uh, 21."

Me: "Well, I'm flattered, then."

Him (after a pause to think): "No, I'm the one who's flattered!"

Sweet kid.

Later my sister and her roommates explained to me how you can tell the real cowfolk from the posers.

Real cowboys wear:

Wrangler jeans that look like they've been ironed
real cowboy boots with real mud on them
$400 Stetson hats
massive belt buckles that they won as rodeo prizes

(The bigger the buckle, the higher the prize. It's like a trophy that one wears over one's belly button. If a real cowboy leaves his shirt untucked he makes sure to tuck in the bit just behind the buckle so that his achievements remain on display.)

Real cowboys are "Ag majors" here at Utah State, which means they're studying agriculture.

Posers wear clean boots and belt buckles from a department store.

And here endeth the cultural lesson for today. I am happy to be One Who Dances again.

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Taking a stand

Velour track suits are up there on my list of Clothing
That Should Not Exist.

They are ugly.
They are sloppy.
They are not flattering.
They are especially gross when worn with high-heeled shoes.
Just because Paris Hilton does it doesn't make it right--in fact, that should be your biggest encouragement to walk away.

I imagine that they must be comfortable, otherwise I don't see why people would wear them. If so then they're comfortable in the way that, say, pajamas are comfortable. And no matter what we may think when we're freshmen and all hopped up on pizza and brownies and freedom from curfews and sleep and showers, it's not okay to go out in your pajamas. It just isn't.

If you are really having a fat day and can't bear the thought of cramming yourself into jeans, I humbly suggest that you look into yoga pants.

Black = slimming
Hot-pink shiny clinging velour = watch my butt jiggle

So. I would love to hear what's on your CTSNE lists.

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The Preciouses

On my last visit to Jenny's we sat around the kitchen table one morning eating and chatting. I looked over at Savannah and realized that she was watching me intently and copying my posture, with her elbow on the table and her chin in her hand. I switched positions and she followed me. We played the mirror game for several minutes before she started giggling, and it was all I could do not to run over there and scoop her up and kiss her all over her honey-smeared face.

Baby Ethan has become a cutie little flirt as well. When I lean toward him and say "Give me kisses" his response is to grab both sides of my head, pull me forward, and go to town on me. I wish there was some trick to getting grown-up boys to do that. I think this technique will serve him well later in life as long as he is dealing with consensual participants. I mean, seriously. Look how precious he is! Who wouldn't want some of that!


Things weren't always this blissful. Shortly after Jenny and Ed got engaged I had this phone conversation with my Mom.

Me: I'm trying to have a good attitude and not let this get to me.

Mom: Let what get to you?

Me: Um, the whole "my younger sister is getting married before me and I just broke up with the guy I thought I was going to marry and now I'm going to die alone and pitied" thing. I'm trying to not let that bother me.

Mom: Tsk. Well your father and I never thought that you were going to get married first. So that's just silly.

Me: Wow. Thanks for that.

Mom: That's not what I mean! I mean that we never thought there was some predetermined order for who was going to get married first.

Me: Well, I did though, because I'm used to always being first. So this is different for me.

Mom: Now that you mention it, wasn't there some kind of Church commercial about this? I think I saw one once.

[She is referring to the public-service commercials the LDS Church produces about the importance of family. In one such commercial from the 1980s a blushing young bride is being fussed over by her female relatives as she tries on her wedding veil. Her older sister (who looks about 21) can't take it and silently retreats to her bedroom in tears. Dad follows her up and tells her she's pretty and wonderful. And tells her to think about serving a mission since she's old and shriveled now. Only maybe I made that last bit up.]

Me: Yes, exactly! There was a commercial about it because it's a real thing!

Mom (dismissively) : You know, I think people in Utah just look for things to get worked up over.

Me: [inarticulate choking sounds]

So yes. Having younger siblings get married before you sucks. But it turns out that having nieces and nephews is the most fun ever--possibly better than having children of my own, because I can give them back when I want to be selfish again. It's also better than being a grandparent, because I get to be young and cool and the equivalent of a rock star. So to the girls out there who worry about this, take heart. All will be well.

Just find some way to mess with the happy couple's birth control if at all possible.

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Going green, baby

I'm trying to do more to help the environment. I think I'm going to sign up for this "Turn the Tide" challenge at Newdream.org. I wanted to see how I was doing first, though, to know if it's going to be possible. It's interesting reading, this list, because it turns out there are more reasons for making these changes than I'd thought. If you go read it you'll see what I mean. Plus it's just a cool website with lots of great ideas.

1. Skip a car trip each week

I need to get back into the mentality that walking actually is an acceptable way of getting around. I walked all over the place in England and yet the second I'm back in the US I forget that I have legs and that there are such things as sidewalks. (Not that there always are sidewalks, because there aren't. My route to work is one example.) Saturday I went out on foot and did some shopping. It was kind of fabulous--it was warm and sunny and beautiful outside. I met exactly one other person walking--everyone else was in cars. I even got honked at once. When I got home I found the door unlocked. My roommates must have seen my car parked outside, assumed I was still home, and so didn't lock the door when they left. Must speak to them about that. "Sometimes I might leave without my car."

2. Replace one beef meal each week

Hah. I don't even remember the last time I bought beef. Beef costs money. I only eat beef when I suddenly need a cheeseburger so badly that it causes me to black out. Like last night when I dreamed I was eating cheeseburgers. Or when I go to my parents' house. They are beefeaters there.

3. Shift your shrimp consumption

Turns out that shrimp-farming practices harm the rest of the marine wildlife. This is too bad, because I do love me some shrimp. But since the shrimp meals are always the more expensive ones on the menu I don't end up eating it very often.

4. Declare your independence from junk mail

Where do I sign up? I hate junk mail.

5. Replace four standard light bulbs with energy-efficient compact fluorescent lights

Hah! I just did 6! I rule. Last week I replaced our most-used lights with the new bulbs. This means that now my roommates are allowed to use the light fixtures instead of building coal fires and lighting candles. They are grateful for this. As well they should be.

I also took out a few extra light bulbs that we don't really need. I mean, seriously. Does anyone like being blinded by 4 light bulbs in the bathroom when they stagger in there in the middle of the night? No. It's bad enough that my bladder woke me up, I don't need to add pupil spasms to my list of problems.

6. Move the thermostat 3°F

As the piteous wails going up across the land from those who have lived with me will attest, this is not so much a problem.

7. Eliminate lawn and garden pesticides

Since I have absolutely no awareness of my lawn and have no garden, I think we're okay here.

8. Install an efficient showerhead and low flow faucet aerators

Went out and bought this stuff on Saturday. This will be an improvement, I think, as my current showerhead releases this odd circle of water just along the outer rim of it. It's possible to stand completely inside this circle and die of hypothermia while taking a steaming hot shower.

9. Inspire two friends

Is anyone here planning to be inspired? Spitfire says I can count her as one, so that's good.

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Names are funny

Not mine, obviously. Mine is tasteful and classic. Both my real name and my Internet name are. My one main rule when it comes to baby names is this: If they can't be taken seriously as a successful cutthroat lawyer with that name, it's out. This especially applies for girls. My other rule is that I can't tell any of you vultures which names I like because you'll steal them. (Example: I have wanted to name a son Aidan since 1993. Like that's gonna happen now. Jerks.)

It was fun to see the difference in names out in England. I met darling little boys named Thomas and Henry. I met girls named Sian (pronounced "Shawn"). I met people with 2 or 3 middle names. And I found out what the Brits think of some of our names. One lady was completely thrown by the name Amber and wanted to know if that was actually really a popular name in the States. Which, oh my, yes. I must've had at least one Amber in every class growing up.

One English friend started dating an American fellow named Randy. WR could not hear his name mentioned without collapsing into giggles. I will never think of that name the same way again. Also, hope that when WR is a hotshot lawyer he has to represent someone with that name. Because that'll be awesome.

Once I mentioned how much I'd liked the name Aidan to an English friend and if I remember correctly his response was, "Why would you want to go 'round giving your children Irish names?" Because it turns out that my friend was racist. This might have been the same friend who was racist against Scottish people and called Braveheart "Scottish propaganda." If so, you know who you are.

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I love everyone

For the last week I've been stricken down with a cold. I hadn't realized what a toll this cold had taken on me until I suddenly started feeling better yesterday afternoon at work. At first I didn't know what was happening and thought that maybe someone had put crack in my water. Because suddenly I was like this.

"Hi! How are you! Oh my gosh that is SUCH a great library question! And hey look at you with your funny joke, Yay for jokes! AND HEY ISN'T MY DESK PRETTY! AND HEY ISN'T THAT LITTLE GIRL OVER THERE PRETTY TOO ONLY YOU HAD BETTER PUT HER SHOES AND SOCKS BACK ON HER RIGHT NOW BECAUSE THAT'S SICK THANK YOU! AND WOW! I GET TO TAKE ALL THE WITHDRAWN MARTHA STEWART MAGAZINES HOME WITH ME. FREE MAGAZINES! WOOO-HOOOOOO!!!"

Seriously. If there are drugs that can do that, I want some. Last night I went to the grocery store and started buying fresh foods again. Also amazing, since I'd been eating brownies and fish sticks all week and Not. Even. Caring.

In honor of my feeling better, here are some of the pics I took a few days ago:

Main Street

The LDS Tabernacle, which is where they hold larger meetings and special events. You can't see it but there was a girl getting her bridal photos taken on the grounds. I swear you can't swing a cat around here without hitting some 14-yr-old who's getting her bridals taken.

This is the fun little theatre that I like.

Um, not exactly sure what this building is. Desmama?

The Logan LDS Temple, which is on a high hill with a great view of the valley. My sister tells me they will have beautiful tulips up here soon, so I'll be checking that out once I come down from the crack water.

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Hmm.

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid Disorder:	Moderate
Schizoid Disorder:	Moderate
Schizotypal Disorder:	High
Antisocial Disorder:	High
Borderline Disorder:	Low
Histrionic Disorder:	High
Narcissistic Disorder:	High
Avoidant Disorder:	Very High
Dependent Disorder:	Moderate
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder:	High
-- Personality Disorder Test - Take It! -- -- Personality Disorders --

So true.

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Photo shoot results

Hah. Just kidding. When Spitfire heard that I was out photo-taking, she sent me these (forwarded on from a coworker). They're all of our little valley. She said that a funny thing to do would be to pretend that I'd taken them yesterday and post them as a testament to how changeable the Utah weather can be. Which, really, she's not wrong about. I swear last week it was 7 degrees and I was busy scoping out which roommate to eat in case the entire city shut down from the cold and we had to go all Donner party on each other. Today I drove around with my windows and sunroof open while I catcalled the farm boys on their tractors.

It won't last. I know it won't last. We'll end up under 3 feet of snow yet. But these pics were too good not to share. I might not mind living here if I know it's going to look like this sometime.

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Amazing Grace review

I went with Cicada over the weekend to support my boyfriend Ioan Gruffudd by watching his movie. I even watched The Fantastic 4 for him, I'll have you know. And I'll probably end up watching the second Fantastic Movie--but I'll be waiting til it comes out on DVD. I have my limits.

Highlights:
My boyfriend Ioan finally getting to be in a movie that's All About Him, Dangit.
Lovely England scenery.
Romola Garai's fabulous Titian hair.
This one time when a sick Ioan climbs out of bed wearing a puffy shirt and you almost see his bum.
Michael Gambon (aka Dumbledore) playing funny, crusty, floor-crossing MP.
Rufus Sewell (aka Seth Starkadder) playing a wild-eyed, fanatical good guy rather than a wild-eyed bad guy.
Lots of other fun actors to recognize and get excited over.
Ioan Gruffudd and Rufus Sewell being cute with babies, toddlers, and pets.
I was impressed by the story because I hadn't know much about the abolitionist movement in England. I mean, here in the US we had a war and then *bam,* one day slavery was abolished. Then it took us about 100 more years to get public opinion to change. In England they had to get public opinion on their side first and then find a way to get the law passed. It turns out that they totally cheat near the end and get a small, seemingly unrelated bill passed that ends up crippling the slave trade. Which is awesome.
It made me want to learn more about the real William Wilberforce, because he sounds pretty cool.
The part where Ioan sings "Amazing Grace" and shames the bad guys into silence with his goodness.

Lowlights:
That singing part was pretty heavy-handed, Ioan's gorgeous voice notwithstanding
A scenery-chewing Albert Finney dressed in some sort of hair shirt--he was good, don't get me wrong, but it was a bit much.
Ioan played a sick man for lots of the movie so they had to make him look not as pretty
I don't feel compelled to rush out and buy a copy or anything. The movie was good but wasn't particularly intense except for a few scenes.
The people sitting near me kept clapping. I hate it when people do that.

ps. I totally forgot the most important highlight of all! We walked from Cicada's apartment to the theatre, and she told me that every time she walks anywhere in her neighborhood she gets some kind of greeting or shout or honk from someone on the street. So that really made me nervous because what if I jinxed her perfect record??? Am happy to report that we received THREE (thank you very much) shows of appreciation during our walk. Because we're hot, that's why.

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Remiss in my duties

So I've been living in Logan for a couple of months now but haven't posted any pictures or done much to introduce y'all to the area. This is because:

1. I am a lazy slacker
2. It has been butt-freezing cold and pictures just weren't worth the hypothermia.
3. England was exotic. I wanted to take pictures of everything I saw. To me, Logan looks a lot like Utah County, where I spent 8 years. This, to me, is not exotic. It's what I'm used to seeing.

Then it occurred to me that even if I don't find Logan exotic, I have friends in England and Canada and the Midwest and the South who have never been here. And they might quite like to see some pictures. The weather is nice today, so this afternoon I'll head out and get crackin'.

To get to here from Provo or Salt Lake City you have to drive through Sardine Canyon. I don't know how it got this name. Maybe that's how the poor souls felt back when there was just a 2-lane road going through and they knew only half of them were going to make it out alive.

To be honest, this canyon freaks me right the heck out. It's very pretty but very dangerous, and if there's even a hint of bad weather you just know the canyon is going to be a death trap. Or it might just get closed altogether. And if you're not willing to risk death (I never am, really) then you're just stuck for the weekend with the cows.


I took the above picture yesterday morning while driving back from Cicada's. It's one of the prettier spots along the way, I think. Then you turn a corner and see Cache Valley spread out before you.


When we get to this point, my sister Spitfire smiles happily and says, "I just love Logan." I squint out the window and say, "I smell poop. Do you smell poop?"

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Rather accurate, I say, for an online quiz.

LingNemesis took the free ColorQuiz.com personality test! "Unwilling to participate and wishes to avoid all f..." Click here to read the rest of the results.

Oh, anyway, I feel slightly efficient today. I mugged some Jc1 chemistry today during the 2 hour worth of break. Hehe.

Bleh... I need to head out, it's the glorious March holidays.

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Awarded

I finally see the fruit of cyber-labour for The Party! Comrade LingNemesis has been awarded with the Comrade Ogilvy Citation for Continued Confrontation - 3rd class medal. I shall continue my work and post more.

Thank you, BB!

You can do earn cyber-medals and boost your ego by registering at the Newspeak Dictionary and contribute your part to Oceania.

Speaking of 1984 stuff, thanks RRR for that hardcover copy of Nineteen Eighty Four, it is greatly appreciated.

I think I lost my flourishing flair, thanks to school.

I need to mug, badly, during the March holidays, I really need to.

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Because I get tired of being always in the spotlight*

Today I'm going to brag on some people who are important to me. I've decided to go with the three I mentioned in yesterday's post: Desmama, Cicada, and Daltongirl.

Desmama was my first blogger friend. She even sent me a birthday present when I told the blog it was my birthday. This kept me blogging, because who even knew that blogging = presents!! I didn't meet her in real life until I came up to L**** for my job interview. She took me out to dinner, listened to the lowdown on the interview, and was even more wonderful and gracious than I'd pictured her.

Fun facts about Desmama:

• She used to edit crappy (and some not-so-crappy) LDS fiction and has fabulous stories about working with completely delusional authors who can't string two sentences together.
• She teaches her little girls to call adults "Miss So-and-so." Also her little girls are just precious.
  
• Her bathroom is lovely, with lots and lots of pretty soft rolled hand-towels for guests.
• She is genuinely interested in other people and remembers pretty much everything I've ever told her.
• One day she will probably murder me in my bed because I keep telling everything that her favorite book is Apache Lover.

I met Cicada when we both worked at BYU as student editors. She is one of the coolest people I know. I even got to be her boss for a little while, which only got awkward on the day when I was told to send her home to change out of a skirt that was too short. (Only it wasn't too short at all.) Even though she is Canadian, I consider her a dear friend.

Fun facts about Cicada:

• I love the way she dresses. I wish she would dress me. And maybe buy my clothes for me too, since she's willing to spend more than I am. And since she makes more than me now.
• Cicada once took me into the bathroom at work to explain the proper way to apply eyeshadow. Hers always looks perfect, and I'm still clueless about it.
• Cicada speaks fluent French and Italian. And can edit like nobody's business. I really hate that about her.
• She makes everything look beautiful. I envy the way she moves into a new place and just gets to work making it fabulous and absolutely unique.
• She loves her family and would do anything for her brothers.

Daltongirl was my boss at BYU going on I'm not telling how many years ago. My favorite thing was to go into her office with a "work-related question" and then just sit and gab for 45 minutes at a time. Daltongirl is one of the funniest people I know, as well as the original Voice of Reason. I kind of stole that name to use on my blog, actually. I offered to give it back when she started hers but she said no.

Fun facts about Daltongirl:

• She is incredibly generous. She once let me live with her rent-free for an entire summer back when she was a struggling single mom.
• I think she can do just about anything. And I mean that.
• Her yard-saling and thrift-store-shopping abilities boggle me. I can't believe half the stuff she finds.
• Daltongirl is a wonderful mom.
• She might hate me for saying this, but I will always look up to her. She has been through some awful things and yet she's this faithful, hopeful, amazing person who looks for ways to help others.

So there. I hope all your ears are burning. And I'm glad I get to spend my end of week/weekend with you.

*Okay so that's a lie. I never get tired of that.

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Tier!

*gasp!*

My sister shrieked in utmost alarm when she read this article online.

"Er liebt die Schwester. Und vom hinter..." - Rammstein's Tier. Means "He loves his sister. And from behind.." in english. Burrr.

Disturbing yet interesting.

So, a back-cross is indeed harmful, 2 out of 4 turned out to be defective.

Otherwise, don't ask about school life.

I have been immensely obsessed over Falkenbach's Havamal and Heralder. Glorious songs, puts me in an imaginary battle upon Nordic lands. Lol. It's my daily wake up call on my way to school. I think I have some obsessive complusive disorder, last year, I keep listening to Starless Aeon. Now Falkenbach.

I look forward slightly to the March holidays, at mere least, I could sleep longer and resume my online schedule and fuck care about school. But to return to the horrors of the revised and longer term 2 timetable put forth from The Sinister School Administrations. Fucking annoying utilitariannitical puritannical bastards. Loatheful.

Comrade Ling, always filled with hateful energy towards all things structured and mandatory,
10th March 2007 E.H.

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Sunroofs make up for a lot, I've decided

Let's talk about disappointments. They happen. Sometimes it's little disappointments, like when you find out that the dish fairy did not in fact come during the night and clean up your dirty dishes and so now you have to do it even though the dishes are full of gray, cold, greasy water and just the thought of submerging your hand in there makes you dry-heave. Sometimes it's bigger disappointments, like when the boy you were maybe thinking about liking doesn't like you back, or when the store doesn't even have any brie but expects you to just cope somehow.

So yeah. All disappointing things. And this was turning out to be a disappointing day for me. Bad weather, not feeling well, chin-zit coming up, dying alone surrounded by smelly cats, all of that. I toyed with the idea of using my lunch break to go to Wal-Mart and pull a Ticking Time Bomb: get in line with a box of tampons, a vat of ibuprofin, a 3-pound bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and an eye twitch. And then if anyone looked at me wrong I could get in their face and be all

"What? You wanna say something? DO YOU REALLY WANT TO BE SAYING SOMETHING TO ME RIGHT NOW?!!!"

But when I got in my car to head out for lunch, it had turned into a beautiful, sunny, warm day. Days like this I believe that it actually might one day turn green and pretty again. I opened my sunroof and felt like a movie star.

And then a succession of lovely little things happened that made me feel loads better. The best was that I went to the cheese factory to get cheddar for Daltongirl. They had all kinds of free samples just sitting out there. I tasted vanilla-flavored milk for the first time. Kind of fabulous. I bought extra-sharp white cheddar that has been aged 8 years. Eight years this cheese has been waiting for the touch of my lips.

Tonight I get to hang out with Desmama and her darling kiddies.
Tomorrow I will eat crepes with Cicada and see the glory that is her new bedroom.
Saturday I will watch my bf Ioan be righteous.
Then I will go to Daltongirl's for dinner and to meet and touch the baby chicks.

So yeah. I can't really complain.

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They must put stupid drops in the water here

The other day after story time the library was full of parents and little ones. I overheard one mother engaged in a heated discussion about education and parental rights. Her position is that as a parent she has the right to oversee her child's education, even if that means that she ends up doing the teaching herself. Because she is very, very, deeply concerned about her children and what they learn. It is her responsibility. It is her right.

I had to interrupt this conversation of deep, deep parental concern to inform her that her children (ages 2 and 4) had in fact left the library and were now trying to rush out into the busy parking lot.

Then I went back to my desk and wept for the future.

On a happier note, have just made plans to watch my boyfriend in Amazing Grace this weekend with Cicada. He will restore my faith in the future with his nobleness and his slavery-abolishing ways and those beautiful dark curls that rest just so on his forehead.

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must . . . mock

Many thanks and my first adopted ethnic baby go to Desmama for sending this to me. She also forwarded it on to Eric D. Snider so I'd better get on it before he does. Then even if his mockery is funnier than mine at least mine was first, dangit.

Our local newspaper-ish publication included the following wedding announcement. The bride and groom chose to express their love through verse, as many young men and women before them have done.

Here is the poem. My comments are in parentheses.

If you want to hear of their fortune and fame

(Cool, are they rich? I like rich.)

It all started when they met at a soccer game

He thought she was hot she thought so too

(Wait, did she think he was hot or did she agree that she herself was hot?)

But after the first date it was through

He was scared she didn’t care

Being just high school seniors they didn’t dare.

(As Desmama rightly asks, what did they not dare do? Perhaps there is some kind of family feud involved, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. Because that's just epic.)

Years later he went on a mission

All the way to Korea a far away nation

(For the family members who don't know what Korea is.
Not that this is much help, since there is no nation called Korea.
Maybe she should find out where he really spent those two years.)

When he got home she went on one too

Down to San Diego where the ocean is blue

They forgot each other were alive

(Oh. Oh dear. I feel my grammar migraine coming upon me.)

Who knew their love would survive.

(Aaaaand it's here.)

She had finished school a long time ago

He on the other hand was going real slow

(Translation: she'll settle for a dummy now that she's getting all old.
It's cheaper than getting her eggs frozen.)

Then one day they finally met, again

Then marriage wasn’t a question of how, (or why) but when,

They didn’t like each other quite at first

But between them love soon burst.

(Kind of like what just happened to my left retina.)

Now they have the chance to say

That they are happy to announce this special day

To all those far and near

That this happy day is finally here

March the Tenth is the day to remember

In the Logan Temple where marriage is forever.

(I'm glad they went easy with the periods.
If you give every sentence a period then they start acting all entitled.)

Times like these I just tell myself that they're clearing the field. They're clearing the field so that I don't have to sift through those guys to find the ones I want. And I do hope they have a nice wedding. Of course, that's just when I'm feeling positive.

The other 70% of the time I shake my fist at the heavens and shout, "So THOSE are the people who get to breed?? Are you KIDDING ME???"

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Gross

On Sunday afternoon I fell asleep and took a lovely long nap in my lovely bed with its white Egyptian cotton sheets and its deep-red sateen striped duvet cover. I dreamed that a dentist got hold of me and kept doing dental work on me. In my dream I rushed over to this nasty vomit-filled trough and started gagging and spitting and dry-heaving into it. This is how pretty much all my dental appointments go, but still. So, so gross.

The best part was when I woke up mid-spit and discovered an absolute river of warm saliva trailing down my face, down my neck, into my hair, and on my shirt. So . . . apparently I wasn't keeping the spit in my dream so much. I staggered around my bedroom looking for something to wipe all that nastiness off my face and neck and hair, because even if I'm half asleep I know not to use my sheets and their fabulously high thread count for something like that. I collapsed into bed and fell back asleep, too out-of-it to do the Dance of Nastiness and Ick that the situation most definitely called for.

It grossed me out, though. And now it has probably grossed you out too. Everybody wins.

Happy Monday!

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In the year 2007 I resolve to: Download twice as much music as last year. Get your resolution here.

Oops. Lol. That wasn't intentional!

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Interesting.

Freudian Inventory Results

Oral (33%) you appear to be stubbornly and irrationally against receiving help even when it might be the more intelligent option. Anal (73%) you appear to be overly self controlled, organized, and possibly subservient to authority, this effectively narrows your exposure to a wider set of options and ideas lowering the odds that you will make the best decisions in life. Phallic (66%) you appear to have issues with controlling your sexual desires and possibly fidelity. Latency (73%) you appear to be afraid or averse to present or future real world responsibilities, this will only make your inevitable transition more difficult, so learn to deal with the real world. Genital (56%) you appear to be somewhere between a progressive/openminded and regressive/closeminded outlook on life.

Take Free Freudian Inventory Test
personality tests by similarminds.com

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In the interest of full disclosure

Lest people start thinking that I am always right and that I only make good choices (an easy assumption to make) I feel I should tell you a story.

A few years ago I helped chaperon a group of high-schoolers (including coolboy, yay!) on a 2-week trip of Europe. We went all over the place--the Netherlands, Germany, Austria, Switzerland, Italy, France, and England. It was basically 2 weeks on a bus but we had fun. One stop included Venice, which ranks up there with Paris in my books as one of the most romantic places ever. We stayed in a hotel right on the beach.

After we were in for the night, our group leader knocked on my door. You should know that this girl is very responsible and smart, but she's also a big kid. Her question: "Wanna go skinny-dipping after the kids are in bed?"

Now, I'd never skinny-dipped before. And really, what better place to start than the Adriatic Sea, right? I should point out here that Amyjane, who was also a chaperon, sensibly declined. At midnight 4 of us (all chaperones) slunk down to the deserted beach and got in the water. Because we're all demure modest people we waited until we got in the water to strip off.

And friends, it was lovely. I don't know why being completely nude makes such a difference, but it does. The water felt cool and fabulous and soothing and wonderful. It was the most glorious and tranquil 35 seconds of my life. On the 36th second, the first jellyfish smacked into me. And then the second. And then the third.

All the other girls started getting stung, too. We shrieked and yelped while frantically trying to run for shore and climb back into our swimsuits simultaneously. Some achieved this more successfully than others. One girl looked a bit like a panic-stricken Venus flailing her way from the foam. I'll be carrying that picture with me always.

Next morning the kids asked about the red welts we all had on our arms and legs (and other places they couldn't see). Of course we couldn't tell them what really happened.

Moral of the story: Don't skinny-dip in the ocean unless you're sure there are no jellyfish. And you shouldn't be swimming at night or at sunrise or sunset anyway, because that's when the sharks come out. Thing is, now that I have a taste of it I know I'll want to do it again. My sights are set on the Caribbean of the Rockies, even Bear Lake. Let's just hope the Bear Lake Monster doesn't decide to make an appearance. I don't think I could really deal with that.

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Fatigue

Tomorrow shall be the day to decide if my journey for taking Chinese as a subject has ended or not. I hope it is so, I cannot imagine myself writing Zhuo Wen any longer. Let's just hope I did okay, meaning an A or B. =D [hopes]

Other than that, parents' night tomorrow night (why do the school administrations have to squeeze everything together?!). For this, I am definitely screwed from all orifices of my body. (yes, it's a very crude description, but it is a suiting one.)

My left eye lid just twitched. I hope it meant for something disasterous, cause I feel like dying. Right. Now. Bleh.

So tired from school. This is the most fitting description of my state now.

I'm constantly dreaming of life after A levels. Work at HMV (preferably) + Steady income + German proficiency course + Suicidal Black Metal Project + Philosophy + Start writing my own 1337 dystopian sci-fi novel + more flourishing + Wardrobe ReInvention + major resting + forgetting how school feels like. I can hardly wait one second longer.


Bahhhhhhhh, said the WarGoatDaemon of LingNemesis.

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