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Monday, 31 December 2007

I knew I was in the right generation

Yesterday a study was released which indicates that the largest group of public library users are aged 18-30.

Who even knew?

This is interesting news for libraries and librarians because it means that the very users everyone dismisses as the "Google" generation who get all their information on their home computer are actually using the library as well. I personally can use this as justification for directing more budget money and programming to that age group.

According to the survey, lots of young adults go to libraries to use the computers, read newspapers & magazines, check out books, and to get information about jobs, government benefits, educational opportunities & requirements, and health questions.

I'm so proud of everyone.

If you are hardcore like me and think the funnest thing on earth would be to read the full 42-page report, you can find it here. I'll probably have a cold shower running just in case I get too excited.

If you'd rather read the short AP article about the findings, you can do that too.

Sunday, 30 December 2007

Get ready to OD on Sumptuous Literary Adaptations

It all begins tonight. Changes are afoot at Masterpiece Theatre, including the recruitment of Gillian Anderson as a new host. Which makes sense now that she's basically British. Will be listening on Jan 13th to see if she and Madonna share the same mid-Atlantic accent. As will a whole lot of X-Philes, I'm sure.

Anyway, Scully will be hosting the "Masterpiece Classic" portion of the season, which will include the Jane Austen Season, a new adaptation of Room With A View, a Judi Dench & Co. miniseries, and some film starring Daniel Radcliffe's Eyebrow.

Tonight and next Sunday they're rebroadcasting last year's Best Jane Eyre Adaptation Ever, which I believe I have already mentioned and shown to my friends and urged you all to watch even if it means locking the other members of your household up in the cellar. Really. You deserve this.

But then, THEN on January 13th the Jane Austen Season starts with Persuasion. Remember about Persuasion? And how we've waited 9 months for it to be aired in the US? Because yeah. If you're a girl and are fortunate enough to have a supportive and drama-appreciating Significant Other who likes to watch SLAs with you, then you may want to tell him to skip this one. He might be offended when your bosom starts heaving and you launch yourself off the couch to go do filthy things to the TV screen. Do like my sister Jenny is doing--throw a Bosom-Heaving Persuasion Party with your like-minded friends. Be sure to wear coordinating Victoria Secret pajamas--they're all the rage.


Saturday, 29 December 2007

Swansong: 2007

As the number of days left in the unsatisfying year of 2007 are reduced to a mere two, I would like to take this chance to enter a swansong entry, summarising my thoughts about what has happened in the span of this unbearable 363.5 days.

Junior College Year 2 and GCE A Levels were what was facing me from the early part of this wretched year, of which I relentlessly pushed myself on mentally, pscyhically and emotionally through that guantlet of challenges and academic setbacks. One particular memorable setback I dealt with immense will and strength had great impressions in me. It was the first common test of the school year. I got back my results shortly after, it was the greatest impact thus far in my academic life - I only passed one subject which is General Paper, of which I topped the class. However, I failed all the others, even my most trusted Biology. Extremely traumatised and reeling from the intense hurt, I was very tempted to withdraw from junior college and give up, but I didn't. I took a few months to get back to my confidence and optimism. Working doubly hard and continuously for the rest of the JC 2 life, I pulled my beloved Biology grade from a U (ungraded) to a B in my Preliminary exam, which is considered a quality grade in JCs. Hard work, routinised essay writing practices, exam paper practices ruled my life. Plus, the hectic long hours in school made me so desenitised and delirious. It was a hard path. And, I walked all the damn way through it. It left a bittersweet imprint within me. It's pretty hard for me to relish everything altogther in a single moment, the feeling is just pretty overwhelming. A triumph for 2007 - surviving JC? Haha.

Metal music. 2007 has been a rather fruitful year for the general metal scene here, and I am not counting on the randomly massive amounts of local pseudo black metal wannabe bands. Haha. Let's see. Slayer, Megadeth, Dragonforce, Heaven and Hell graced Singapore with their live performances this year, if my memory serves me right. Not too bad. But not good enough! We need more and wider exposure of metal here, thus Darfina and me has started a hopeful petition for Asia's first and only Pagan Metal Festival here with Lamc productions. I just hope it will come into fruition. =)

Flourishing-wise for 2007, nothing really exciting happened, to be brutally honest. Apart from knowing who's your ally and who's not, I am just rather contented at the rate I am creating moves and how I evolve as a flourisher. Bleh, flourishing gets so dull nowadays. Maybe it's just a thing when you get when you have been in it for 3 years and counting, everything gets repetitive and monotonous. But, it's still a nice thing to do when you are watching TV/movies, they prevent you from falling asleep. Heh.

2007. A year of my serious actual Buddhist practice, albeit on my own. I became rather closely acquainted with the Dharma and read closely to it all year long. Needing an alternative release of stress from school and whatever crap that comes into my way, I experimentated with meditation, found it to be useful and has an extremely healthy effect on my emotions and concentration. I believed I have progressed in that abovementioned subject. It feels quite good to self learn a subject all by your own, I guess.

Other than that, 2007 came and went, it seemed alot quicker than most years. Maybe I was just in a constant blur between consciousness and comatose. Maybe it's because I was busy with school work so much so time lost its tracks.

Whatever it is. 2008, you little bastard, be good and well. Bring no troubles. Thanks!

Friday, 28 December 2007

This year's big gift

For the last couple of years our Dad has given us cash for Christmas so that we could buy what we want/need. This year, he said he was doing something different. We were all going to get the same thing, but he didn't say what it was. This, to me, was puzzling. He got us something that he thinks we will all like--and that we'll all like more that we would like cash? More than I would like cash--I who love money above all things? This did not seem possible.

Spitfire and I picked Mom and Dad up at the airport and learned that Dad carried our gifts on the airplane in a separate backpack (a purple backpack, mind you) rather than checking them in his suitcase. This, to me, suggested electronics. Whatever was in the backpack felt firm and squarish, based on the exploring I did with my bare feet while standing over the backpack while talking to my parents in their bedroom. On Christmas Eve I had a brain flash and decided that he must have bought us digital picture frames. He got one for Mom for Christmas, which she opened before they left Alaska. It's unisex, it's the kind of thing you wouldn't necessarily want to check with your baggage, and it's one of the hot gifts this year.

I approached Jen and Spitfire with my suspicion as we were all heading for bed. Thing is, none of us actually care about digital picture frames. But I said that if this is what he's chosen for us then he's probably really excited about it and we need to be sure to be really, really pleased when we open them. Spitfire asked if it would be okay to return them afterwards. Jen and I didn't think so. We went to sleep in a subdued mood, consoling ourselves with the thought that we've had 20-some years of fabulous Christmas presents and one dud isn't going to kill us. And it's more than a lot of people get.

Since I was sleeping on a couch which quite possibly hated me and wanted me to die, I woke up about 18 times that night from about 6 different dreams in which I opened my present and feigned excitement for the digital picture frame. To understand this couch, you should watch this video. This is the feeling I get from it.



So. Enough of the evil couch and its ways and back to my dad.

Christmas morning, we opened our presents. When we saw the wrapped gifts from Dad we realized they were too flat to be the picture frames. Which just made the morning even better. What they turned out to be were printed, bound copies of the journal he kept from 1979 to 1995, as well as a personal history he wrote in 1980 about his childhood and family and growing up. He spent October through December transcribing the journal, trying to get it read in time for Christmas.

Coolest.
Gift.
Ever.

We've all been reading them ever since and it's kind of fascinating. When he started the journal, he was 22, newly married, stationed in Germany with the Air Force, and they were pregnant with me. My parents had also just joined the LDS church, so they were adjusting to a new lifestyle and pretty much a new culture. So not only is it interesting to see what he was like then and how he saw the world and what his plans were, but we can also see how much he's changed and how much he's accomplished since then.

Dad said that going through and rereading his journal was a crazy experience because there were so many things in there that he had (and still has) absolutely no recollection of. Which is I guess why we're meant to write stuff down.

He says he's probably going to wait a bit on the 1995-2007 journal, what with that being a little more recent. I agree with him, if only because he and Jenny have finally started getting along again. Revisiting that whole 1995-2000 thing might reignite the bloodshed. Also I have no desire to find journal entries where he wonders if he and my mother have somehow failed because I'm still single at 24 or whatever. That would not be good for my psyche. I prefer the entries about what a cute, blessed baby I am. As would anyone.

Thursday, 27 December 2007

Great new Christmas Tradition

So I have to say, my favorite part of Christmas was the girls-only sleepover. We kicked out all the boys, put on our coordinating red underwear and pajamas, and had ourselves a great time. There was lots of giggling and lolling about and teasing and snapping of the waistbands of other people's underwear. Also a pillow fight. We invited some of our girlfriends to come on over, one of whom snuck in a can of whipping cream by holding it in her cleavage. Oh, the mess and squeals we made during the whipped cream fight!

Oh. Wait, sorry. That wasn't us. That was the girls from the Victoria Secret commercial that's on the air now and which is driving me slowly out . . . of . . . my . . . mind.

If there are any guys out there who think this is what we do at our sleepovers, you can stop thinking that. At our sleepovers we eat lots and lots of food and watch Sumptuous Literary Adaptations and the only sexy thing in the room is Mr Darcy. Or Mr Thornton. Or Captain Wentworth. Or, you know, any of those guys. We are not the sexy ones, I can promise you that. We don't wear pushup bras and we don't lie around staring at our cleavage and twirling our hair. We don't make out with our girlfriends or sisters and hope that you'll stop by and join in. And buying us Victoria Secret underwear and pajamas is not going to make us more likely to do any of these things.

I'm sorry, but I figured you deserve the truth.

Because I haven't killed enough puppies yet to ensure the 'going to Hell' thing

My mom brought down our old Barbie gear to give to Savannah, and my sister Jenny and I noticed something interesting.






















We now bring you the Amy Winehouse Barbie. Don't y'all wish you'd spent Christmas at our house?

Monotony, perhaps.

Monotony because I have started work, and my work consists of scanning stacks of papers into a weird looking machine that could miraclously convert papers into .jpgs at a nifty speed, typing in even weirder looking series of numbers and looking at people's identification cards, and silently commenting on their names and protraits. What a damned voyeur I am. Haha.

Boring, and very monotonous it is, but it is rather good money, partially because I have unwittingly signed a bloody 2 month long contract with the company whose name is Aviva Limited. So, I shall be designated at that hellhole of an office until late Feburary 2008 AD. Bless me, Loki. For my intellect and social life shall plummet sharply to unsightly low heights. To prevent that, I have intended to call upon friends for my hour-long lunch breaks, replay jokes and movie scenes in my head and I shall set a different philosophical theme to ponder deeply and aimlessly each day, until I am driven to irreversible insanity.

The only good thing is there's a Subway outlet in the vincity of my workplace, so cheerios at that.

I am so tempted to bring a camera there to snap at the skyscrapers.

Monotony, perhaps, because, I have wrested my way out of the stale mundane schedule of residing in my own house all day long, refreshing Decknique every 3 minutes and typing lol repeatedly at MSN. That's not a bad point, at all. Now, at least, I get money out of sitting continuously in front of a computer and not getting nagged at.

I am amazed I am not as freakishly tired as I were when I was incarcated at Trusted Hub last year, partially because Aviva Limited is a not a sweatshop, the other half is due to the fact that I am a skilled practicioner of thoughtcrimes from my continual (self-imposed) isolation back in my JC days. So, I can easily entertain msyelf and refresh myself with my (unbridled, maddening) thoughts. =D

I rant too much about work. Not too good!

I have nothing else to say except a big thanks to Kevin for his Christmas gift which is aptly allocated, as it is titled as "The Devil's Dictionary" by Ambrose Bierce. Other Giftmas gifts include Stephen King's Everything Eventual from Leon and a funky cloth-covered notebook from Jaspas. Thanks people! My first time receiving gifts on Christmas. =)

On the other hand, Matyn gave me an equally satisfying gift of sorts by merely conversing with me in our own queer, deeply arcane language and subjects which consists of things that your Mom would strongly opposes against, the dark, the profane and everything msacrabe. I enjoy your company alot, Matyn, if you ever reads this dingy blog of mine. Haha.

My hands demand cards instead of typing. Bye!

Monday, 24 December 2007

Twas the night before, and all that

I'm down in Provo now and having a wonderful time with my sweet family. During the lulls I'm reading the book Unplug the Christmas Machine: A Complete Guide to Putting Love and Joy Back into the Season, which is looking like it's going to be great and change my life. It's always fun to find things like that.

Soon we will cook and consume an obscene amount of prime rib, mashed potatoes, crab-stuffed mushroom, shrimp cocktail, Alaskan King crab, cheese ball, and chocolate fondue. Then some of us will have to make additional Utah Food Bank donations to get over our feelings of capitalist consumer guilt. It's just once a year, though, right?

Tonight we'll read Luke 2 and see if Savvy and Ethan are feeling cooperative enough to play Joseph and Mary. Spitfire and I brought our violin and flute to play Christmas songs at Jenny's dire, dire, bossy request. I think it will all end in tears when Savvy demands her turn at the "biolin," but whatever.

Need to post a quick picture to show you the Christmas present I am most excited about. I made two sets of these booties for friends who are having babies and it's quite possibly the coolest, craftiest thing I've ever done in life.




Couldn't you just die? They're made from an 70% angora/30% wool blend and are the lightest, tiniest, softest things you've ever seen. You just want to cup them in your hands like the little baby birds they are. Amyjane has already requested a set in pink. I should be a lot faster about churning them out now that I know what I'm doing, after having made every possible mistake known to man.

I hope everyone has made (or will make) it safely to wherever you're celebrating, and that you're well and happy. Merry Christmas!

"The people that walked in darkness have seen a great light: they that dwelt in the land of the shadow of death, upon them hath the light shined. . . . For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given, and the government shall be upon his shoulders. And his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, the mighty God, the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace." (Isaiah 9:2, 6)

Friday, 21 December 2007

Self-Imposed Essay Writing.

I spent around 3 hours doing this essay last night, this is my first try at a Buddhism essay. The below is a link to the full essay posted over at my deviantart. Hope you enjoy it!

Why Am I A Buddhist? , written by LingNemesis, yours truly.

Otherwise, the festival of ultimate consumerism - Christmas is coming up, and I don't give a half damn about it. Haha.

Bored. Not in the mood to rant today. Bleh.

Your mom's a crack smoker

This is going to be jumbled. And it will bring up way more questions that it will answer, because it probably won't answer any of them. But I'm curious and wanting to chat about this. And I'd like to hear what you think.

1. Lately the Utah Drug Force and other agencies have been getting the word out that the most typical meth users in the state are woman in their 20s and 30s who are also mothers.

2. My friend works at a pharmacy where a pregnant woman was recently arrested for forging a prescription for Loritab (she had a prescription, but changed the amount so she could get more pills). She tried to fill it while her husband and children waited in the parking lot on their way to church.

3. There have been studies and articles which indicate that Utah leads the way in anti-depressant use, with explanations ranging from things like "Mormon Women are more depressed because their religion and their culture expect them to be perfect" to "In Utah when women are depressed they go see their doctor and get a prescription rather than self-medicating through alcohol or other drugs."

Now for my rambling thoughts and questions.

1. The meth thing. What the heck? The word on the street (not from official sources) is that some of these Utah mommies get hooked on meth because that's how they try to do everything and keep going and not need to rest so that they can be the Best Mormon Mommies Ever. I don't know if that's true, though. I think it's easy for us to cast around for a reason and then come up with something which seems tidy. It then gets repeated as fact, whether or not it's actually supported by real evidence.

2. The prescription drug thing. My friend has some stories. They have to be constantly, constantly on the look-out for people trying to get drugs they shouldn't have. The one about the pregnant lady really took the cake, though, because this woman point-blank lied to the pharmacists and to the police who were called in. If this is her first offense, she could have just confessed and said, "Yes, I'm in a ton of pain and feeling desperate and not thinking straight." And it wasn't even for that many extra pills! Lying to everyone pretty much ensures that she could go to jail, and then there's her husband with little kids and a baby who possibly had no clue any of this was going on and he's just tootling off to church, all la-la-laa.

3. The depression thing. I'm torn on this. You get the people who point to the LDS Church (or just generally Utah LDS culture) as the root of all depression and evil, and you get the articles like this one from the BYU Family Studies Center which refute the statistics pointing to Utah as the #1 anti-depressant state, or this wiki article which argues that even if Utah does use a seemingly high number of anti-depressants then it's not a logical step to say that religion causes depression.

Here's what I think, and this is just my own uneducated opinion. I fall somewhere in between the two camps.

I think they have a point when they talk about LDS women not trying to self-medicate through alcohol (because that usually doesn't present itself as an option in a teetotaling society). I know someone who just went in to talk to her doctor about depression and he asked her if she has a history of depression or alcoholism in her family. Turns out, she does--of both. The doctor said he asked because it's only in the last couple of generations that depression is really being diagnosed and treated. So a history of alcoholism might be a good indicator that depression does run in your family.

I don't think that living the lifestyle of a Latter-day Saint necessarily makes one prone to depression. I think that, for me, my religion has given me a greater sense of purpose and peace about my life. My relationship with a Savior and a Heavenly Father, as well as a strong support group or "church family," helps me through difficult times.

But I know that this isn't necessarily the case for everyone. I know first-hand that some elements of the LDS culture (at least as it exists here in Utah) contributes to competitiveness and a need to excel at everything. In October's General Conference there were two talks (one by Julie Beck and another by Dallin Oaks) which dealt with calming the heck down and not over committing yourself and your families, and being willing to let things go if they're not the most important things. They wouldn't be mentioning it if it wasn't a thing.

And then, this is the part that I don't like to say but which I really feel is true. First off, let me say that I fully appreciate that there may (and most likely will) come a time in my life when I will be hit by real, live depression. It runs in my family, and I've already had times when I've felt myself sinking into a Not Good Place. I'm very fortunate that I've been able to come out of those "low moods" but I know that's no indication that I will always be able to do that on my own. And if I find myself in one of those times, when family support and prayer and doing the things I know how to do are just not cutting it, I am going to run to a doctor or therapist or both and ask for help.

But I know that some of the very dear women I go to church with do not feel the same way. I've been in Relief Society lessons and heard women say how grateful they are that because we have a Savior there is no reason why we should ever be depressed, ever. Which, I'm sorry, but no. So then I had to raise my hand and say that yes, it's also wonderful that we have a loving Heavenly Father who has provided us with the knowledge to develop technology and medicine so that we can get medical help when we really need it.

So yes. I am sure that there are many LDS women out there who have supportive families and wise bishops and wonderful care providers and who understand that you can't just "get over" chronic, clinical depression. But I am also just as sure that there are LDS women (and just women in general) who will never talk to their doctor about how horrible they feel and who will never get needed counseling because they (or their families) will see it as unnecessary, a sign of failure, or indicating a lack of faith on their part.

Wednesday, 19 December 2007

The Need for a New Enlightenment

Just finished with reading Hitchen's god is not Great. The introductory quote of the final chapter deserves much applause. Here it is:

"The true value of a man is not determined by his possession, supposed or real, of Truth, but rather by his sincere exertion to get to the Truth. It is not possession of the Truth, but rather the pursuit of Truth by which he extends his powers and in which his ever-growing perfectibility is to be found. Possession makes one passive, indolent and proud. If God were to hold all Truth concealed in his right hand, and in his life only the steady and diligent drive for Truth, albeit with the proviso that I would always and forever err in the process, and to offer me the choice, I would with all humility take the left hand. "

~~ Gotthold Lessing, from Anti-Goeze, 1778.

Also worth mentioning was Hitchen's penultimate paragaph in this book, epic-sounding it was, but it's rather inspiring too, at the same time.

"However, only the most naive utopian can believe that this new humane civilisation will develop, like some dream of 'progress', in a straight line. We have first to transcend our prehistory, and escape the gnarled hands which reach out to drag us back to the catacombs and the reeking altars and the guilty pleasures of subjection and abjection. "Know yourself', said the Greeks, gently suggesting the consolations of philosophy. To clear the mind for this project, it has become necessary to know the enemy, and to prepare to fight it."

~~Christopher Hitchens' god is not Great, In Conclusion: The Need for a New Enlightenment, 2007

Great read.

The best-laid plans . . .

So, as you may have noticed, Christmas is next week. My parents are flying down and we're going to have Christmas in Provo with Jenny & Ed & The Precii.

There are a few things I'm especially looking forward to:

A phone call from dear coolboy, who is laboring away on the sandy beaches of the Dominican Republic, (missionaries only call home twice a year--usually on Mother's Day and Christmas). Coolboy let us know that last year's Christmas phone call sucked bricks and that we'd better think of better & less boring things to tell him this year. I personally plan to make stuff up. I will begin with my pregnancy scare and end with the grizzly bear that wandered into the University Mall and mauled several Victoria's Secret patrons.

The food. Mom has already called Jen with the grocery list, which includes prime rib, brie, and one of those shrimp cocktail platters from Costco that are the size of my front door. Last time we purchased one of those it was half gone by the time we got it home. I'm going to make crab-stuffed mushrooms, which are tiny little balls of crack-laced goodness. I may or may not let other family members partake.

The Precii. Savvy and Ethan are so sweet and so excited about the whole Christmas thing. I talked with Sav on the phone the other night and told her that I bought her a Christmas present.

Savvy: Why? (This is her response to all statements now, which I think she does just to screw with our minds.)

Me: Because I like you.

Savvy: What is it?

Me: I can't tell, it's a secret.

Savvy: Oh, okay! [drops voice to a whisper] I won't tell anyone!

And then my heart exploded out of my chest.

My present to her, for those of you who love secrets, is a Disney Princess coloring book pack that comes with Disney Princess stickers and pencils and erasers, etc. I could have retrieved a crumpled piece of garbage from the trash and slapped Ariel's face on it and she would have loved it just as much, but I decided to go this other route instead.

You know what's no longer a highlight?

Pictures. I got my hair trimmed and my 4-inch bat poop roots touched up this morning so that when I meet my mom at the airport she doesn't tilt her head and scrunch her eyes and say something like, "So . . . what would you call that, exactly?" Only I shouldn't have even bothered because yesterday my face decided to Freak. the Heck. Out and erupt in zits so massive that Gremlins are probably going to hatch out of them during the night. One of them is up near my hairline and so the stylist kept bumping against it. Which, not necessarily her fault. These things are huge enough that they've possibly affected the existing gravitational force fields, much like planets, and maybe it's not possible to get within 3 feet of me without smacking into one of them, but still. She's just gonna make it mad!

Monday, 17 December 2007

Life seems better, by alot, actually.

"What's up?", you might want to ask. Instead of the ubiquitious answer people usually offer like "Oh, nothing much, really." *insert yawns* I shall attempt to give a more exciting peek of "what's up".

Firstly, I have reached the ending few chapters of Christopher Hitchens' god is not Great book. One particular chapter - There is no Eastern Solution, irked me to a certain and significiant degree. The way he slams Buddhism is rather severe and unrelenting. He has given himself a serious concession by trying to pin everything possible to its end, in this case, it might not be neccessary. I would love to meet up with him. Over a nice cup of Ceylon tea, I will try my best to explain Buddhism and its pragmatic nature to him, and I only hope he will listen to it. Lol. Ugh. In his own words from the book: "A faith that despises the mind and the free individual, that preaches submission and resignation, and that regards life as a poor and transient thing, is ill-equipped for self-criticism." I could find so many misunderstood statements in that one single line. Not going to prosetlyze here, in case people think I'm a fanacial Buddhist-facist. Hahah! I just think the western mind is not receptive to Eastern way of thinking to grasp the gist of our culture accurately. Ah wells. Not going to be pissed by a single paragraph in the book, anyway. =D

Next, Kev will be back here in Singapore on Wednesday. Everyone will be happy. I cannot wait to resume the film-watching sessions with him. I reckon we should have a movie-stayover or what not. It will be a blast. Speaking of card flourishing friends and card flourishing, I have finally stopped procasinating and went out to film my footages for the video last week. I'm fairly satisfied at the output, considering I was constantly threatened by the volume of the incoming rain this monsoon has to offer. Yeah, if you even bothered to infer, my video will be an outdoors video. =) Now, it all boils to the editting problem. Being technologically challenged of myself, I have encountered many hinderances with the Sony Vegas 8.0 I downloaded. Half-discouraged, I think it's still better if I were to ask help from Jaspas or something. Haha.

My article on local politics has rendered some online retialiation. Haha! :P

Christmas is coming. As much as I cannot be bothered about this festival of consumerism, I must thank Jaspas for his gift - which is a nifty fabric-covered non-lined notebook. I foresee many deviant things and imagery in that book soon, but I will have to overcome the "I don't bear to write on clean resplendent notebooks" syndrome. Haha. Thanks, Jaspas! Oh, J, after almost 2 years of calling you "Jaspas", it seems vaguely strange that your name is Justin. Lol. Hmm, back to Christmas, I have 3 events on stimultaneously. A) KTV session with Justin (I make it a point), his girl, Leon and perhaps Kev. B) Family/Relatives Gathering C) Movie outing and monologue-giving/listening with Count. Drasula Matyn and his acquintance, we should be watching 30 Dazes of Blight. We will have to book tickets in advance or choke on the ropes of hope (I just love this maglinant foul word play of his, extremely sensual, eh?), if we were to take a gamble on that wretchful day itself.

On domestic issues. I have been having fun with my mom (oh, don't give such bad, boring notions about mothers) at home. She's getting cranky and really comedic on almost every action she does. It's quite funky. ^^

I want to buy "Kampfar's Kvass" album, but I am pretty much broke. Hate school-less life, no regular allowance.

Speaking of metal, yours truly and my friend - Darfina Carlito, has attempted to do the impossible - to initiate the First Ever Metal Festival in The Entire Span of Asia. To be even more amazing, we are focusing on the rarely-discussed and almost entirely-unheard-of Viking/Folk metal genre, we intend to bring in bands such as Korpiklaani, Kampfar, Ensiferum, Moonsorrow, to name a few. To make this concrete, we decided to use an online petition. Metalheads and Pagan-lovers, if you happen to chance by this blog, leave your mark at Pagan Metal Fest in Asia Petition. Thank you! I can't play shit in terms of music, but hey, I am creating opportunites and making history. I think it's very kvlt still, don't you think? Haha.

Sunday, 16 December 2007

Saco de Toro

So . . . my roommate has this boyfriend. And he has always been perfectly civil to me which is why I'm going to be careful what I say about him here. Because despite this civility I'm quite sure that if I were to get on his bad side he would probably set fire to my car. He's a wilderness sort of guy, which is all you really need to know here.

The other day I was talking on the phone and noticed something on the kitchen table. I picked it up. It looked like a hollowed-out gourd made of leather. Wondered what kind of animal that came from, and then put it back down and dismissed it with an, "Enh. Must be some freaky thing [BF] brought in." Forgot all about it.

Until the next day when I came across a small printed leaflet on the kitchen counter which read, "Congratulations - you are the proud owner of an original Saco De Toro. It is an actual scrotum of the king of the range. It came from a proud, virile beast and at one time contained the seeds of life and the future of the heard."

Yeah. Flipping nutsac on my kitchen table. It seems I can grab bulls' balls. (I know I wasn't the only girl who watched this movie in a Michael-Vartan-induced haze. It's lucky for me he wasn't a French teacher, because do y'all even remember the part on Alias where he spoke the French and all women everywhere stopped breathing and some actually died? Le sigh . . . )

And now back to the abomination.

I continued reading, and am now including a faithful reproduction of the leaflet copy, with my own small asides.

"Your Saco De Toro has weathered the heat of the summers and the cold winds of winters. The scars and blemishes on your Saco De Toro are indicative of the hardships endured by the beast." [Because . . . bulls spend a lot of time getting kicked in the crotch? I'm really not sure who would be walking up to a bull and doing that. No one who's still alive, that's for sure.]

"You can be assured that there is not another Saco De Toro exactly like yours anywhere. [Oh, good.] They are as distinctive as fingerprints and come in different colors, different sizes, different shapes and different textures [and flavors, I assume]. Your Saco De Toro is unique, useful, conversational [that's for sure] and expressive." [What exactly is it meant to express, though? I am a seventh-grade male who thinks that anything to do with testicles is hilarious and therefore awesome?]

"What will you keep in yours? [You mean besides my own vomit?] That is limited only by your own imagination. You may use it as a litter bag in your car. You may hang it in your home or office with dried flowers in it. You may hang it on your golf bag to keep your balls in. You may use it as a container for your own private hopes and dreams of the future of momentoes of the past." [I'm . . . not even going to try unraveling that last one.]

"Grandma has hers hanging on her rocking chair and when asked, "Granny, what do you keep in your Saco De Toro? ash gets a far off look in her eyes and replies, "Why, my memories, sonny." [I'm pretty sure his Granny is made up. Because like anyone has ever said that in real life, ever. Granny's far-off look is probably because she is a) mercifully blind and cannot see that her family has draped genitalia over her chair, or b) dreaming wistfully of a nursing home far far away.]

"Saco De Toros are for both sexes of all ages and are sometimes given as gifts to that special someone as a token of remembrance." [What exactly are you hoping them to remember when they look at it? Although I suppose it could be a really fun gift for girls to give each other to celebrate the emasculation of a former romantic interest.]

"Don't forget it is especially useful to keep your Candy Kisses in.," [Yeah. Because I'm for sure going to be eating things that come out of that.]

(Photo from www.bbhq.com, which can probably rush one of these babies to you just in time to ruin Christmas. Call now!)


You say potato . . .

It's occasionally fun to be reminded that I now live in an agricultural town--especially when that reminder does not come in the form of fresh manure scents wafting in my nostrils or gap-toothed cowboys wearing Carhartt coveralls (which, so help me, I left Alaska to get AWAY from!)

The most recent reminder was a linguistic one. At a Sunday dinner potluck hosted today by Before, a group of us got into conversation about the term "borrow pit," which all the agricultural kids know about and use, and which I and the rest of the decadent bourgeoisie had never before heard of.

Apparently it refers to the deep indentations on the side of the road.

Me: Isn't that a ditch?

Aggies: No, because there's no water in it.

Me: So it's only a ditch if it has water?

Aggies: Or if it sometimes has water.

Me: Riiiiiight.

So when they think of ditches they think of irrigation. I think of ditches as "where the dead bodies of stupid girls who jog alone in the dead of night end up." Also as place for the disposing of handguns. (We had different upbringings, apparently). I asked how you spell it, but none of the aggie kids could remember ever seeing it in print so they don't know how it's spelled (which means it's probably spelled d-i-t-c-h). It's pronounced "borrow pit," though.

I decided to research this a bit when I got home.

First tried burrow pit, which, according to the United States Department of Agriculture, is a fancy word for hole someone dug up.

A borrow pit is "a pit from which construction material, as sand or gravel, is taken for use as fill at another location." Again . . . hole someone dug up.

Hit gold with barrow pit, which is a Western United States noun meaning roadside borrow pit dug for drainage purposes.

So, drainage . . . how is that different from a ditch, then?

Can anyone settle this for me? And are there any other names that you might use to label the place where your car goes when you swerve off the road to avoid a moose, cow, or ax-murderer?

Friday, 14 December 2007

Fine, are you happy now?

After two weeks of trying to shake this cold, I give up. I give UP, do you hear??? I succumb. This is me, succumbing. I am leaving work and going home to sleep for the next 18 hours. And when I wake up I had better both sound and feel like a normal person and not like a staggering zombie with the voicebox of a German Shepherd.

In my absence, here is something to watch.



When I saw this I thought, "Hey, it's that guy from Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz!" And "Hey, it's that guy who played the police inspector for 2 minutes in North and South!" "Hey, it's Lemsip! Good times!"

Yes, I need a life. But if it doesn't involve an encyclopedic knowledge of British actors and products then I don't want it because clearly that is no life at all.

Wednesday, 12 December 2007

Sometimes I wonder if we're actually related

Last night I was in a bit of a work-related strop and my dear sister Spitfire did her best to cheer me up. Her cheering-up ideas included flourless chocolate cake from Sweetly Divine, a fabulous pastry shop here in L****. Mine involved Wammart, cheap things made of glass, and a brick wall.

We went with hers, since it was technically better.

On the way there, though, she started talking about the movie Transformers.

Spitfire: Oh that's right, you probably haven't seen it.

Me (slumped down in the passenger seat with a permascowl): No, I only watch quality programming.

Spitfire, shaking her head: That may be the case, but you're missing out. It was kind of good.

Me: [unintelligible sneering and snorting]

Spitfire continued: Just think, Megatron was the bad guy but originally he was their brother in valor. I mean, isn't that kind of upsetting?

Me: Something is.

pause

Me: Did they really use the words brother in valor in the movie?

Spitfire: No. I made that part up. It sounded good though, huh?

I'm lucky to have a sister who will actually try to bring me out of my funk rather than just leaving me to mope behind a Dumpster somewhere.

My sister <3

Just look at it. On the freaking front page of Youtube. I am so very much impressed and proud of her. Sister ftw!



And, if you happen to be in the Esplanade region on 20th, drop by the Powerstage in the evening. Your very chance to hear Larkin Step live! *ZOMGWTFBBQ!!!* Yes, grab that chance and be at Esplanade. =D

Haha, I am such an advertisement. Heh.

- Ling The Second.

Tuesday, 11 December 2007

Have found some good stress relievers

Remember last week when you gave me all the good advice about how to keep the eye twitch down? I decided to follow your counsel.

On Saturday I used a birthday gift certificate I'd been hanging on to and got a massage at the Valhalla Salon & Spa. It was so, SO nice. The therapist was great. Not as good as the one I used to use but can never afford again (She Who Has Dark Magic in Her Fingers), but I've kind of given up on the idea of finding anyone like that ever again because I don't think such people exist. Saturday's therapist did actually spent time working on the places that needed it, though, and didn't try to run any Matchbox cars up and down my back, which made me love her.

Also, when I got up on the massage table and slipped under the sheets I realized that the table was heated.

Yeah.

Did you even know they could DO that? It was amazing. I didn't know whether to fall asleep or run to the bathroom. I would have married that table, I think.

And then to cap off the good weekend I bought tickets to Hawaii.

Hee!! YEAH I did!

Which I think is the best de-stresser OF ALL. My parents had an extra room booked at the Hale Koa on Waikiki Beach for the beginning of March. My aunt & uncle, who were going to go as well, had to back out, so now their room is my room. And I'll get to split costs with a lovely friend who agreed to come along, because she too understands the need for Hawaiian vacations in March. So we'll be there for a few days, and then we'll fly over to Kauai for the rest of the week and stay in a condo near Poipu Beach (pictured).


Yeah. It's pretty much all I can think about. I went to Hawaii a few years ago with my parents and Amyjane. I didn't think she'd be able to make it this time around, on account of she'll be kind of busy then. But it was so, soooo wonderful--especially Kauai. And knowing that I'll be back there in less than three months is enough to get me through quite a lot. So it's possible that I can just leave that AK-47 in the back of the closet where it belongs and save the tower-climbing for later in the year.

Monday, 10 December 2007

My letter to the parents of L**** and its environs

Dear Parents,

They are called babysitters. Look into them.

My enjoyment of Saturday night's Christmas concert at Utah State University was slightly marred by the squalls and piercing shrieks of your infant and toddler offspring. I especially appreciated the part where, rather than sitting near an exit so that you could make a hasty retreat at the first signs of fussiness, many of you chose to park yourselves right in the middle of a row right in the front of the audience. I think I would have made a different choice if I had a ticking time bomb in my lap, but oh well. And I really loved how some of you finally took your screaming child out of the theater and then brought them back in again a few minutes later just to repeat the entire process.

I'm also curious--why was it so important to you that your tiny children attend this concert? Did you think that's the kind of thing they would enjoy? Because, clearly, they didn't. And I can't imagine you did either, unless you take a kind of sick pleasure in pinching your child during the quietest parts of the musical numbers, thereby ruining my Christmas buzz.

Here's the thing: When I want to hear screaming kids, I have options. I can go to my sister's house. I can go to a pediatrician's office. I can go to Wal-Mart at closing time. Heck, I can attend the story times at my own library. And the beauty is, I can do all those things for free. I don't need to buy a ticket and dress up and invite a guest and go sit in a nice theater. I really don't. And when I do buy a ticket and dress up and go sit in a nice theater I am NOT hoping for the added perks which your child's set of lungs may add to the entertainment.

So yes. Babysitters. Do us all a favor and get one. If you can't afford it, trade services with a friend. Do not ruin the experience for those of us who planned ahead (far, far ahead in my case) and did not bring babies. If you're unsure as to whether to bring your child, ask yourself these two questions:

1. Is this event intended for small children? (Key indicators would be balloons, performances during the day, and signs which read "Babies Welcome!")

2. Is it at all possible that my child might become fussy or cry during the performance? (This applies to children from ages 0-15.)

If you're still unsure, give me a call and I'd be happy to help you decide.

Friday, 7 December 2007

Tiny Friday Present

I realize that every word from my lips is pretty much gold, but in case you want to learn other cool stuff from other cool people, check these out:

A Big List of Sites That Teach You How to Do Stuff


iTunes U--I learned about this one from Yankee Girl

Also, did you know that you can use good ol' YouTube for things like flute and guitar lessons and stuff? Because you can.

Thursday, 6 December 2007

Blah blah Golden Compass blah blah

Someone who clearly does not know me very well sent me one of those "BEWARE THE GOLDEN COMPASS FOR YEA VERILY IT SHALL SUCK OUT YOUR SOUL" emails. I was not impressed, and kind of wanted to write this person back and ask that the next time he chooses to blindly pass on inflammatory information like a mindless, mindless drone that he kindly leave me out of it.

My acquaintance isn't the only one sending this stuff out, though. I just read that an elementary school principal in Bountiful, UT sent an email to the parents of his students back in October, warning them about the film. Which, WOW. I was glad to read that he got a reprimand from the district, because as a parent I would have been well bothered by that.

The quite witty Eric D. Snider wrote a blog post about the whole hoopla surrounding the movie/books. His basic point: If you haven't read the books or seen the movie then you don't actually know what the message or intent is. All you know is what you've heard from other people, and it's kind of silly to just repeat those things as fact without checking for yourself. He made his point so well that I'm not even going to bother but will instead refer you to him.

But seriously. If you don't know whether you should let your kids read the books, read them yourself and then decide. Or, if needed, find someone who has read them, whose opinion and judgment you trust, and consider that. Also? The things you take away from a book may be completely different from the things your kids will get out of it. They might just see a great adventure story. I'm not saying you should give them, say, a bodice-ripper on purpose in the hope that it will go over their heads, but I am saying that the things that set you squirming might not make a dent to them.

I've read the series and there is quite a bit (especially in the third book) about throwing off an oppressive and cruel religious authority . . . which, um, wouldn't we be kind of . . . for? Some of the themes might bring up some really great conversations and teaching moments with your kids, where you can discuss how what you're reading aligns with your own beliefs, and how you can decide whether something is worth reading or not. And isn't it a good idea to help your kids develop the kind of critical thinking skills they'll need for when they head out into the world and start reading things that you haven't pre-approved?

So yes. You may decide that you just don't want to deal with the ambiguity and that you have neither the time nor the interest to screen these for your kids, so you're just going to pass on the whole thing. Which is absolutely fine. But if that's the case, please just say that rather than joining the screaming masses who take one quote from the author (who, let's remember, knows that nothing sells quite so well as scandal) and create a crusade out of it.

And stop sending me emails, because they just make me cranky.

Kitaro in Singapore


I just got back from my first non-metal/rock live concert experience, it's New Age this time, surprisingly. Haha. The artist is above-mentioned and as you have probably realised from my past entries I have ranted abit about him and his work and wisdom.

Now, about this concert today at The Indoor Stadium.

I was in an extremely delicately good mood at this evening, feeling at ease and full of the positive energy or metta, if I were to use Buddhist terminology. Haha. So yeah, the show started. There were more camera flash lights than the stage lights at first, that was rather annoying. After the first song which sounded totally alien (it's probably a new song, when I discussed with my father laterwards in the car). Then I wished there was the Song Name flashing out like how you would see from music DVDs. Haha.

I wasn't very sure of what song it was and in whatever chronological order, due to the fact that most Kitaro songs sounded fudamentally similiar. But I was very much sure they played Heaven and Earth, Koi (with a weird twist), Kokoro (not sure) and Matsuri. Of the last, I went totally ectastic and grinned like a total motherfucker and closed my eyes in total auditory rapture, my fucking dream coming true. It was my favourite meditation tune and my A Level De-stressor before I head to school for exams, besides Maha Kali, anyway. Haha. Rapture it was, I could almost ran down to the stage like what I did for Rudra, but I restrained, *reminds: not a metal gig!*. Sigh they didn't play Silk Road, it was quite a pity. They played around 2 to 3 new songs in total, and around 10 songs in grand total, in the span of 2 hours. I am quite taken aback by their rendition of a famous Hokkein song, originally by Soong Sisters.

Pretty darn sweet and tight sound. Cool lightings. A rather uncomfortable seat I had (it was quite hard). And one fucking briliant musician/composer/artist/thinker/peace-adovcate - Kitaro. I hail you, Kitaro. This tour was aptly titled! Love and peace everyone! Metta! Metta!

Wednesday, 5 December 2007

Striving for emotional health

They say you should learn to recognize signs your body and mind may be giving you when they want to tell you that you are stressed. If my 2-month eye twitch is any indication, then yes, I may be slightly stressed. It comes and goes, but most of it is to do with work and wanting to get things resolved so that I can get back to kicking the trash out of one job rather than eye-twitching my way through two. Is that so much to ask?

Yesterday was a long 12-hour day wherein I oversaw the library's employee/substitutes/volunteer Christmas party. It was a lot of fun but I'm kind of exhausted and getting slightly cranky. Also I have a cold, which turns me into the biggest whiny baby alive. I can just see me, years from now, forcing my small children to bring me orange juice and chicken soup and my down comforter because Mommy is sick and cannot possibly parent today.

I realized, however, that I might be getting near the end of the rope when my inability to locate the frozen juice section at the grocery store this morning had me dropping mental F-bombs. Because really? The F-word? Over juice? That does not seem right.

There were a few grocery store moments, though, which re-affirmed my faith in tiny miracles. I hate buying spices at the grocery store. I hate it because they all cost about $8,000 and you just know that someone is getting a better deal at a dollar store or World Market or spice plantation somewhere but you don't have the time to go find that better deal because you're making wassail for tonight, tonight! And then you hate yourself for sucking and you hate McCormick for sucking even MORE. I had to buy a brick-sized container of cinnamon sticks for $5.99 even though I only needed one. But it was almost the same price as the tiny McCormick jar and I just couldn't give them the satisfaction. So does anyone need some cinnamon sticks?

Here is where the miracles come in. I found whole cloves for $1.69. I picked up the tiny container and whispered, "I honor you." And then I gave the $5.99 McCormick cloves the Eyebrow and a French pfffffft. Suckaaaahs. In the frozen juice aisle, where I was looking for both orange juice and pineapple juice, I found orange-pineapple juice. Lovely. Lovely, beautiful, faith-in-human-race-affirming moments.

Also, I'm sensing a sick day coming up reeeeal soon. Anyone out there have any good stress-managing techniques that do not involve running away from your job or telling people to go screw themselves?

cinnamon sticks image by Mika

Tuesday, 4 December 2007

Kitaro Tomorrow

Time to immerse myself in such briliant cacophony tomorrow night at the Indoor Stadium.

Can't wait. =D

Songs from Enchanted

If they're going to be stuck in my head then I see no reason why they shouldn't be stuck in yours.

I keep thinking of Amy Adams as "Katie the Purse Girl" from The Office. I kind of hate how adorable she is. But seriously, this movie is worth watching if only to see how well she plays a Disney Princess.

Also???? If they're going to take the trouble of putting Idina Flipping Menzel in the movie then why the heck doesn't she get to sing, huh? Tsk tsk, people.



Monday, 3 December 2007

Quick announcement

Hey, remember when I blogged about the student art sale here in L****? And some of you wondered if they'll be doing anything like this in the Salt Lake City area?

Wonder no more, friends. According to the fabulous girls over at Your Heart Out, which you really must read if you live in any kind of radius to SLC, the University of Utah is having a student art sale Tuesday through Thursday of this week. You can get details here.

Happy Monday.

In which I become my mother

On Saturday I went to not one but TWO craft market show bazaar thingies.

I know.


But the first one was the Beehive Bazaar in Provo, which was all kinds of hipancool. I would have wandered in there for hours, but

1) they were crammed into a really really small space (I hope they can get a bigger room next time!)

and

2) Jenny and I had Savvy with us. Even though she was very good, we knew we had a only very brief window before she would give in to her heart's desire and start making out with a gingerbread castle.

There were so many funky and gorgeous things there. These prints by Sarah Jane Studios made my ovaries seize up.



So yeah, I definitely want to go back the next time they do one of these. The ladies in charge were great and seemed to deal just fine with the huge snowstorm that hit and the huge parade that blocked off all of Center street for a good chunk of the morning.

Then I drove home to L**** and made Spitfire come with me to Cache Valley's Winter Market (held inside, I was grateful to learn). This was when I felt the mantle of my mother descend upon me. Because here I was dragging resisting people through the snow to go look at crafts. It was a little scary, and made me wonder if I'm going to suddenly start making tiny quilts to hang on walls.

Spitfire did come along like the good sport that she is. But when we both turned up sick the next morning she blamed those MILES that we walked in the snow. The Winter Market was . . . not the same as the Beehive Bazaar. It was a completely different crowd, but it was fun. And they had a string quartet playing Christmas music, which I feel elevates any gathering. I didn't buy anything, but had fun admiring.

"Oh, so you make that yarn from your own goats, huh? Wow."

Sunday, 2 December 2007

Mourning Palace

So fucking good to see old, epic songs being played again. This one is Mourning Palace, by Dimmu Borgir. In a studio of 80 people as audience. Small and tight performance!

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