Tragedy is like a branding iron. Everyone who lives through it becomes a product of that tragedy. You realize you’re just a slab of meat. You might continue living your life in a fairly normal straight line, but that tragedy knows to whom you belong. You have its smoldering mark on your body.

At first the idea of grief counselors seemed absurd. "I was like, grief counselors? Really? But this is doing something to me." And that's it. It's difficult to put into words, but in the aftermath of the storm, you could feel it on you. Something had been done to you. And though I don't think of myself as seriously affected, there is a part of me that still becomes frantic when the power goes out. The anxiety is a rat racing up my nerves. It's part of the reason why it's taken me so long to write this, the followup to the storm. I don't like to think about it. I don't like to talk about it. I don't like to go back to it. But I will, just this once, and then it can't touch me again for a long time.

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wolfpangs: (fairy)
I forgot to mention this in my last post, but there was something else that bothered me about Piranha, besides that one character's fate. Lord knows this is important information--it must be shared with the world--but I went to the trouble of screencapping it at the time, so here 'tis. Lemme tell you, as someone who grew up on a tourist-attracting lake, you don't do this before going in the water, unless you want this to happen. TYVM.

And I've continued to see other movies. [NB: Internet and/or TV service is still kind of hinky here, hence my movie binging and also absence from the internet.] I saw Daydream Nation the other night and while I thought the story was kind of muddled and don't even get me started on the dodgy CGI, I have not related to a character more than I related to Caroline in a looooong time. The trailer:

I also saw The Violent Kind, which I really wanted to like, mostly because the poster is beautiful. [I am nothing if not a serious movie fan. Also, "From the producers of 'The Texas Chainsaw Massacre' and 'Halloween'" means nothing unless we're talking about the originals.] Alas, no. The story seems both draggy and too short--by the time our two groups meet up and the real action kicks in, it feels like they've had to cram in the rest of the movie to fit. And the story--woof. It plays like someone fell asleep during a Sons of Anarchy episode and then woke up later in the middle of Sometimes They Come Back (or if you like, Sometimes They Come Back...Again) and then dreamed they were part of the same movie.

An outtake from my trip: Since the last time I was there, they've opened a 24-hour Duane Reade in the lower level of the building. Since I love 24-hour stores with the fervor of any nocturnal creature, this was the fuckin' best. Also, having one so close was useful for things like, if your e-mail from Monthly Info said "See you in two days!" and then turned into "Hey, I got an early flight!" that afternoon. One night before dinner, I stopped there to get something to eat on the way to the restaurant. [If you have not been informed that I eat like a hobbit, consider this your notice.] I got their brownie bites and what a delight they were.

As I tottered off toward Blue Ribbon, I passed a guy who looked exactly like this, baseball cap and all. It could have been him for all I know. In any case, I feel qualified to tell you that he was checking me out. And I was like, "Mmmrprmsmmmf...these brownies are amazing!" So, sorry, Keanu, if that were you. Rain check on sad sandwiches together?

Now I'm reading Mark Reads: The Hunger Games and I had to giggle at "Flesh-eaters??? Oh man, if these are like…zombies or irradiated mutants or something worse, I will DEEPLY LOVE THIS BOOK FOR A LONG TIME." Zombies or irradiated mutants in THG? Not quite (no spoilo), but it does remind me that I read The Forest of Hands and Teeth while I was in New York. It's a lot like The Village if shit had gotten really real and the monsters in the woods were real monsters. I will continue to read the series, although I have to admit that I didn't love it. The ending just kind of putters out and I kept getting Tegan and Sara's "Ocean" stuck in my head because Mary wouldn't stop yammering on about it. Stop crying to the ocean, stop crying over zombies...

Speaking of crying, my own regarding my schoolwork, particularly the research paper on Operation Paperclip, has lessened SOMEWHAT. By a microscopic bit. But really, I've almost converted my thoughts to "I have 2-3 [depending on the class] weeks to complete these papers--better start writing!" from a constant refrain of "OH GOD I ONLY HAVE 2-3 WEEKS LEFT THIS WILL NEVER HAPPEN OH GOD OH MAN OH GOD OH MAN" right until the night before.

And now here's the part where I say that I'm going to go nap (because I should, because I'm sickly with allergische Rhinitis* or just the regular kind and I tried napping earlier this evening but I just had feverish dreams where Jake Gyllenhaal was my athletic, competitive brother whom I was trying to warn about an impending zombie attack), but really I'm going to watch The Daily Show [jk, they're on vacation] and meditate on the achingly lovely lankiness of a certain gentleman and listen to My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy (you can stop making albums this year, everyone else) and try to locate my Christmas cards.

*Because so much of the material that I'm studying is in German and I'm studying German, my thoughts tend to lapse into it, even when I don't intend it. Also, today I got annoyed because a guy next to me in class kept reading over my shoulder while I was making notes for my research paper so I wrote them all in German. There's probably a word in German for that. [Studieprivatsphäre?]
The 3 dumbest things I read concerning American school childrens this week:

1) Rather than allow a lesbian student to attend with her girlfriend, the local school board in Fulton, MS, votes to cancel Itawamba Agricultural High School's senior prom for everyone.
2) A middle school student who was handed Adderall and handed it back was suspended because having it in her hand constitutes possession.
3) "The board approves the amendment, taking Thomas Jefferson OUT of the world history standards." stroke.

Going for the EGOT in civic duty:

1) I did my part on Tuesday, voting in the special election on whether or not to legalize the sale of alcohol in this city only. By a margin of 28 votes, the measure is denied. The city stays dry.
2) Via buccal swab, I donated samples to the marrow registry. As I was doing so, I laughed about my family's commitment to medical science--I was, after all, giving this sample in the same building where I have anthropology (and Psychology and Law). I was complaining about the tables in that building when my sister said, "You know that's where PawPaw is, right?" I did not know that. See, my paternal grandfather died last fall and that's when we found out that he'd donated his body to UAB. And now he's in Campbell Hall, where I am twice a week.

[By the way, speaking of my family and our association with medical science--people can have all sorts of opinions. Isn't that great? A world full of people with opinions. It's nice. And you can express those opinions whenever you want. But see, here's the thing. If you are a Gonstead chiropractor who's anti-vaccination, please don't use my family's name in association with expressing this viewpoint. The Gonst(e)ad family is strongly pro-vax and we want no part of your monkeyshines.]

Also, Tuesday, I developed a raging toothache. After realizing that I'd downed 6 OTC pain relievers in the first coupla hours I'd been at work, I called my mother and begged her to break the glass on my emergency Vicodin stash, which she did. I was supposed to have a filling last week, but the appointment was canceled the day of. So, I went to the dentist Thursday afternoon, following a long day of school. This visit, like the last visit, I saw the other guy who works there, the newer guy, not the practice owner whom I'm used to.

He asked me if anything aggravated the tooth pain and I said only cold drinks and foods. He asked if anything relieved the pain and I said painkillers. I wasn't sure what else I could say. The same night my mom brought the Vicodin, she also brought some eugenol. That worked somewhat, but really it only masked the pain around the tooth and oh yeah, it tasted like fellating a zombie. I'm not sure if this was some sort of tell that triggered the addiction interrogation procedure, but that's what it felt like I got, which, look. I've been going to this practice for a few years now. I've gotten a sum total of two prescriptions for Vicodin issued before Thursday, each for ten pills each. Each prescription was issued at least a year ago. If I were feenin' for Vicodin, one would think I'd be working a little harder to get it.

Dr.: Do you have any allergies?
Me: Not really.
Dr.: "Not really"?
Me: Nothing that would affect anything here.

I am allergic to liquid All detergent and I have a strong sensitivity to dextromethorphan. As long as we're not doing laundry and/or robotripping, it's cool.

Dr.: Do you take any medication?
Me: No.
Dr.: When's the last time you visited a doctor?

I am going to assume he meant more of a general doctor, not specialists, and doesn't want to hear about my visit last week to talk about my upcoming "lid eval" for my Forest Whitaker eye. Anyway, the last time I saw someone for something other than a specific body part was that time I ripped my artery open and they stapled me back together.

Dr.: So no medication?
Me: I take a multivitamin. And biotin. Sometimes I take extra vitamin C and iron.
Dr.: No birth control?

Is "birth control" code for any of those things I just said? Then, no.

Dr.: Are you pregnant or is there a chance you could be pregnant?
Me: Oh, child. Bless your heart.

It was so irritating. They knew there was an outstanding problem--I'd had the filling scheduled, after all, and he'd noticed himself that there were issues with the teeth that were hurting. I'm sorry that they couldn't pinpoint for themselves what exactly was causing the problem, but gah. At one point, he asked if a root canal would be something I'd want to look into and I was like, "Just give me a root canal. Just do it. I don't care." And I don't. Root canals don't scare me. I am more haunted by the fact that I can't eat the delicious frozen mango in my freezer right now.

Finally, I got my Vicodin and I have my mango so I've got that going for me, which is nice. Also, I'm not sure if you know this, but Christoph Waltz won an Oscar.* Below: The photo metaphor of my deepest wish.

PS: I see what you did there, Colbert.

*This has been my favorite thing to say to everyone this week.
This was a week full of surprises! First, I watched the activities at Gobbler's Knob (heeheehee) live online. I watched it full screen on my monitor at work while B sat there next to me reading the paper. It was longer than I thought it would be (TWSS), mainly because there are like, 20 guys in the Inner Circle and everyone has to be introduced. Then they opened the door in the tree stump and brought forth the famous timorous beastie who, of course, saw his shadow. [Gen. Beauregard Lee, the southern version, did not see his shadow. He does, however, hold a doctorate in southern groundology. I'm jealous of a rodent's fake degree.] Some time later, B goes, "When are they going to do the groundhog thing?"

"Um, an hour ago."
"Yeah, it was like an hour ago. I was watching it on the computer."

She thought I'd been watching a movie. I don't know what movies she thinks I watch that involve a bunch of men in top hats handling a groundhog.

After that, I rushed home to catch the Oscar nomination press conference, which went by quickly. I have Basterds in my heart, but I'm amenable to The Hurt Locker taking the top spot. I'm undecided on Best Actor. For Best Supporting Actor, my bb Christoph Waltz, obviously. I have absolutely no opinion on the Actress categories and in fact, am kind of whelmed by the nominations. I think it speaks to the dearth of opportunities for actresses that those are the best choices they could come up with. Everything else, I'm mostly ambivalent about except I'd like The White Ribbon to win in its categories.

And then FOB maybe is/maybe isn't together anymore? Between that and NKOTB's appearance on Fallon, my inner teenager had a very tumultuous week. I am kind of bummed about it, I guess, but I've had the feeling since "What A Catch" that the end was near.

Thursday, I skipped my last class and that turned out to be a good thing because my alternator crapped out while I was careening down the interstate. My display dimmed, I noticed the wipers were slow, the radio shut off, and my speedometer plunked to zero. "Are you still able to drive normal speed?" my mom asked after I frantically called her. "I have no idea how fast I'm going!" It was a good thing that I skipped class because if I hadn't, that might have happened much later, when there would have been less help available. They sent a tow truck for me and now I'm driving the "courtesy vehicle," which is a ginormous Crown Vic. With "COURTESY VEHICLE" printed on each side. And an Auburn sticker on the back window. :(

Friday, I awoke to a call from work, asking me to come in and help fix an issue with one of the door locks. "Are you the maintenance man?" my mom asked. Yes, and tech support and human resources investigator.

In two days, my bb Lil Wayne goes to jail for a YEAR. :( x infinity. I'm not sure how this benefits society, but I'm sure someone on Twitter can misspell it for me.

Also, this week I read The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, which was excellent, and saw the movie version, Men That Hate Women, which was less than excellent. It wasn't a bad movie, but I really didn't like some of the choices they made with the story. I understand that they had to condense some of the plot, but they also made changes I was not pleased with and in some cases, didn't seem to be for any reason--like changing the names in Harriet's date book (and the numbers they corresponded with). Why? And I hate the "I'm going to break into the suspect's house to see if I can find anything" trope. What do they expect, a note on the fridge all, "Remember not to mention you killed that girl"? I also thought the characterization of Lisbeth especially was lacking compared to the book, where you get a better sense of her motivations. And man, poor Henrik. Anyway, it was well made, but I preferred the detail you get with the book

I also read Karen Russell's St. Lucy's Home For Girls Raised By Wolves*, but I'll talk more about that later, because now I have to go mine in the sleep caves.

*Now I'm reading Elizabeth Clark's thesis on female werewolves. Eee!
Although I was initially slightly miffed (I was totally sour) about my school being the only one in the region--nay, the state*--which was not canceled on Snow Day/BCS Championship Game Day, I must admit that it was kind of nice not having that much traffic on the way to school. Also, I really like driving in the snow. Walking in it, not so much. In fact, it was when I was getting teabagged by snow flakes on my way to anthropology class that I wondered if I could, in fact, melt the snow by the heat of my pure rage.

Speaking of, you know how to make a class of students already irritated that they're in class while no one else is even madder? Have the first website you bring up on the overhead be "10 Reasons Why Texas Will Beat Alabama." (PS: Some chicken, some neck.)

About a week before school started, I'd been eager to return, actually getting bored with winter break. What was I thinking? There was Christmas and I got some pretty cool things, including the floral print Doc Martens I wanted from my mom and Hunter boots from my dad (I live in t-shirts and boots, yes). The Docs have helped a lot with the ongoing snow. In fact, they probably would have helped the dude I saw break his leg as I was arriving at the bookstore on Friday. He stepped off the curb and that was it.

Tomorrow I will go back to school and here is a pointless complaint: I hate the tables in my anthro class. They're not regular tables with regular chairs--the chairs are connected to the table, two at a time, and they swivel and dip and rotate on their axes like a non-mechanized Scrambler. Theoretically, I think, a person with normal length legs would sit there normally, all la dee dah, look at me--I have human size legs. Smaller people, like myself, instead have to cling to the table like a wood tick, because every time I let go, I feel not unlike I'm going to be flung against the wall. I just want to go back to my building (the home of the history dept), where the tables are normal. And all my other classes are in the same room (save forensic science, which is online).

Upside, the guy who sits in front of me kind of looks like Ezra Koenig**. He wore a trenchcoat to class on Thursday. And a sweater over a buttondown. He has a Vineyard Vines sticker on his laptop. He is so preppy that I almost can't take it.

Tonight, I went to Hobby Lobby, to pick up some supplies for a terrible cross-stitch project I'm working on. It shares a wall with a gym and I guess Monday's an aerobics night, because the whole time I was in that corner of the store, I'd hear periodic yelps of encouragement. Shopping was very exciting. WOOOOOOOO, EMBROIDERING WITH A HOOP!

[Sidenote: Perfume people, they're selling these boxes that are ostensibly for tea storage, but would be perfect for 5ml bottles--lids with glass insets, built in dividers.]

*Possibly not true
**I call him space student. PS: "I Think Ur A Contra" rulez!

Dear Diary,

Yesterday I was walking to class when my earphones shorted out in one side. I was annoyed, mostly because I'd planned to pass the almost two hour gap before film class by watching a movie. Then, as I walked into the building for my first class, a few classmates of mine told me that class was canceled. The announcement had been posted to Blackboard about the same time I was getting on the interstate. It was starting to seem like a 40 degree day.

I checked the Barnes & Noble website (they're our school bookstore) to see if they had headphones. Not only did they carry my preferred brand, but they were at competitive prices. So, taking advantage of my extra time, I went across the street to the store. I was kind of peckish, so I did a quick survey of their snack items. To my surprise, the store stocks Muddy Bears, the odd little candy I've loved for years but have been unable to find outside of the internet. (Sometimes, the internet is just not as good as IRL.)

Later, in history of film class, we watched Citizen Kane because duh. I don't know why I was so down on this movie the first time I saw it. It really is the best. It's funny and beautiful and so sad. One thing I'm sort of curious about is the relationship Kane had with Mr. Leland. Maybe I'm looking at it through my modern eyes, but there seemed to be a hint of something besides friendship going on. I tried to consult the think tank at the IMDB messageboard, but I got distracted, somewhere in between the "omg so boring" and "Citizen Kane vs. Crank 2 High Voltage" threads. Anyway, upon second viewing, I really liked it.

So, despite my misgivings, it turned out to be more like a 60 degree day. And now I'm 3 weeks away from going back to NYC. And this local ad is making the internet rounds. Adjustment: 70 degree day.
Tala, like many cats, loves to look out windows. One of my bedroom windows, which are floor-to-nearly-ceiling, is open (because it took me days to pry it so and I'll be damned if we're closing it now) and that's his favorite spot to sit. It's eye level for him and there are bushes in front of the window where birds like to stop. Sometimes when he sits at the window, he chatters at outside animals. You can just barely hear him do it, but I always know because I can see his whiskers twitching. And if you look outside, you can usually see a bird or squirrel out there.

Earlier this morning, I looked over and saw the most remarkable thing. There was a bird right outside the window. It must have been on the sill, because it was right there, looking in the window like a teeny feathered cheeping Tom. (Oh yeah, I intended that.) Tala, also remarkably, was at the window but he was looking to the right and hadn't seen the bird to his left, separated from us by only a screen. Then he turned his head. The following is all true.

Tala turned his head and it took him probably less than a second to register what was happening. Then he shouted "Mrow!" in an indignant tone, before hauling off and kitty-punching the screen in front of the bird's face. I don't know if the bird flew off or if there is an unconscious bird lying in front of my window, but the bird disappeared.

That was not usual. [Below: Would do it again.]

1. Did I ever tell you how I got into massage? It is a very heartwarming story. A friend of mine was thinking about going to school for it and I read her brochure and thought, Well, there's an idea. The end. I've never really felt a calling toward any particular field. I mostly want to dance and hang out. I love American history and the idea of teaching it, but the realities of the American educational system are hard to ignore. I'm not saying that I have eschewed the idea entirely, but just that every time I tell people I'm majoring in history, emphasis American, and they say, "Oh, you're going to teach?"--I'm full. No more for me, thanks--I'm full. However, I think I've found the career that combines many of the things I enjoy, such as putting things right that once went wrong (they're not hiring at the Quantum Leap project, unforch) and raging patriotism (I took the inner nationality quiz on Facebook and I'm secretly an American*). And that is, the Bureau.

Me: I'm going to apply to the Bureau.
My mom: What bureau?
Me: The politburo--I'm going into Russian politics in my time machine.

Or not. I think I'm going to apply to be a G-Lady. I say "think" because I still have to finish school and who knows what number of ideas I'll have by then ("This is too hard. Let's quit and be firemen instead"). As I said, the job--I'll be applying to become a Special Agent--appeals to me on a number of levels, like its insistence on "rigorous obedience to the Constitution" and the chance to use my most unique skill set--the fact that because I'm small and giggly, many people underestimate me. They don't realize how juicy my mind grapes are, such as. Osama bin Laden, I'ma get my mind juice on you! (I am considering entering as a language specialist, specifically Arabic. So if anyone asks, don't tell them about that time at Bible camp.)

2. I've watched some movies lately. I watched S. Darko and...hmm. Maybe if there were no predecessor, I would have liked it better, but as there was a Donnie Darko, it's hard to judge S. Darko on its own merits. The fact that DD creator Richard Kelly had nothing to do with the movie is problematic to say the least. Further, as it's impossible to take in the movie without thinking about the first movie's mythology, the more you think about S. Darko, the less sense it makes. And the ending was just nonsense. Upside: I really liked Daveigh Chase's wardrobe! Sidenote: Is it true that her name is pronounced more like "duvet" ("Duh-Vay" as her wiki entry says) and not like Davey? I don't know how to feel about that.

I also watched the Norwegian horror about Nazi zombies, Død snø. [Below: I don't like this vacation anymore.]

Død snø, which focuses on a group of students on holiday at a ski cabin who inadvertently wake up some nasty spirits, was much better. It's funny, scary, and gross (there's a scene involving something utilized as a rope that I'll bet people will be talking about). It was interesting to me how it was obviously influenced by American movies--as seen in the trailer, one character even quotes, in English, Indiana Jones's "Fortune and glory, kid"--but the way the characters react to certain situations is different, I think, from how they'd react in an American movie. One example: When the random old dude shows up to lecture them on how they're spoiled brats who didn't bother to notice that the territory they're in was a Nazi supply stop, one of the characters can't help but get sarcastic about the possibility of waking up the Nazis who were trapped in an avalanche during their occupation. Random old dude grabs the kid and the rest of his friends suddenly become very interested in their shoes. In an American movie, somebody would have called the old dude an asshole, at least.

That's not to say that the characters are pushovers. It's noteworthy that this is a movie about Norwegians facing off with Nazis--La Résistance gets most of the ink, but Norway had a healthy resistance movement as well. In fact, when they first got their "On the occasion of your being occupied" note from the Third Reich, Norway's response was basically, "Fuck your face." [History pedant: *monocle adjustment* Actually, it was "We will not submit voluntarily; the struggle is already under way."] The progeny of the Norwegian resistance puts up a worthy fight as well. The character Vegard is a notable standout at this--watching him go full survivorman is awesome.

As an aside, imdb lists the following as a goof: One of the wearing a white (snow) camouflage jacket. The jacket shows plastic parts (or is completely made out of plastic) which can only be found at modern day jackets. Maybe the zombie took it away from a earlier victim but as all the others wear "original" war gear this is supposed to be a WWII Jacket - and is way too modern. I know that logic is pretty rock-solid, but I don't agree that the jacket is a goof. The jacket doesn't just look a little bit modern--it is totally modern. I was wondering why homes was wearing a hazmat suit when he first walked into frame. He obviously stole that from a victim or the movie's wardrobe department thinks we're morons.

2b. I also watched Fox's Glee and loved it.

3. As I mentioned a few days ago, I went to see Man Man and it was awesome. I'm having trouble finding the right way to describe it (mind grapes are dry), but watching them felt inspirational. When Honus Honus climbed up on something (I couldn't see exactly) and pulled on a lady's beaded top midsong, it was a beautiful thing. I felt like I could go anywhere and do anything. I wanted to go home and paint and write and do. I wanted to go create. I've never felt anything like that when seeing a band before. I've got to see them again.

4. And one last time, thanks again to everyone for their condolences regarding my grandmother. I really am doing okay, but thanks to everyone who just had to make sure.

5. Finally, before I go watch Martyrs so I can feel ways about things with Jess, here is a collection of random things I've been looking at:

MTV's new show Fashion Strip--am I the first to make a "They Shoot Horses, Don't They?" joke?

Awkward Family Photos: Oh, man.

It's Lovely! I'll Take It!: Like Cakewrecks, but with real estate listings.

2 Birds, 1 Blog: Few people have the ability to make me laugh like Meg. I tried to read this entry to my mom and sister and couldn't get through it without laughing until I cried.

*“You are highly competitive and highly independent, although you also have an easygoing and spontaneous nature. In order to hide and mitigate just how badly you want to win, you have developed a thick veneer of friendliness — in order to lull your opponents into a false sense of security, yes, but also in order to actually tame your own natural blood lust, and most of the time it even works. Because you are so mobile and ever-changing, your friendships are always in flux, and the people who are your oldest friends may or may not accompany you all the way through life. Probably not.”
Woke up with a swollen eye and chipped tooth--ahem--and not feeling up to anything more intellectually challenging than enjoying SNL, watching movies (at home!*), and thinking about this new Eminem album. I'm very nervous about it. The Marshall Mathers LP is one of my favorite albums and everything I've heard from Relapse has been whelming at best. However, despite the fact that I'm feeling all out of sorts, I'm going to attempt to write my Man Man recap.

*I was planning on seeing Star Trek at the regular theater here, but a Facebook friend reviewed the Imax version so I checked and yes! It's showing at the Space & Rocket Center. So I'm seeing it there. I will probably go Monday because I am currently a monster.
Squirt must have read the same hot/not article I read recently that listed feather headbands as out, since he helpfully mouth-destroyed mine. Now feathers keep mysteriously appearing everywhere.

What hasn't reappeared anywhere is my folder of materials that I've been using for my mixed media paintings. Oh, yes. I'm painting now. And I've had this folder of various clippings, as well as quotes from a number of sources, that I've been saving for years for some vague artistic purpose. Now I've finally figured out something to do with them--never underestimate what I'll come up with to get out of screenwriting--and I've managed to Amelia Bedelia the folder to God knows where. This folder will end up being some place I can't even imagine now, much like how I found my paintbrushes drying in my Easter basket. (You can see a sneak peek of one of my paintings here.)

I've decided to take the summer off from school. I have a lot of books to read! Also, I like my mental health. And I need a break!

Other things:

The New York Times spent 36 hours in Birmingham. I love that first picture because that is my beloved old man bar (my power animal is a grumpy old man). In fact, that may be me in the photo--I dunno, I'm drinking when I'm there. By the way, the article recommends some charcuterie thing at Hot and Hot Fish Club which sounds gaaaross--however, if you happen to visit there and it's in the summer months, you will be remiss if you do not order the tomato salad. *Homer Simpson drool*

Speaking of the Times, Randall Munroe, creator of the wonderful xkcd, appears in an article featuring a photo whose caption I will be borrowing for my bio.

I am totally going to make these. Also, Starbucks please bring back the Salted Caramel Hot Chocolate already. Or don't.

Kindertrauma: "...the movies, books, and toys that scared you when you were a kid."

Speaking of scaring children, [ profile] zooby and I found hilariously disturbing some advice we read on the internet telling parents not to forget to tell children the "real story of Easter." This someecard sums up why. The real story of Easter is an "astounding horror." On that note, here's Slate's very interesting piece Why Was Jesus Crucified?: "A central statement in traditional Christian creeds is that Jesus was crucified 'under Pontius Pilate.' But the majority of Christians have only the vaguest sense what the phrase represents, and most non-Christians probably can't imagine why it's such an integral part of Christian faith...Linking Jesus' death with Pilate represents the insistence that Jesus was a real person, not merely a figure of myth or legend. More than this, the phrase also communicates concisely some pretty important specifics of that historical event. For one thing, the statement asserts that Jesus didn't simply die; he was killed. This was a young man's death in pain and public humiliation, not a peaceful end to a long life." Now who wants chocolate bunnies?!

I...don't know. There's really not a way to follow that on a high note. So I'm going to go drink sweet tea and do some writing and maybe paint. And definitely update my Facebook status. Happy birthday.

Oh, PS: If you haven't seen the (NSFW) video from which I got my icon, here 'tis:

The other day, my mom babysat Sadie and before my brother-in-law dropped her off, she mentioned to the housekeeper, Susie, that (if Josh brought Sades early enough) Susie "might get to see the grandbaby today." Susie said, "What's her name again? I never can remember it." Mom told her and Susie said, "Oh, that's right. She is the tiniest little thing." Mom said, "Oh, you've seen her?" Susie said, "The one who was on the computer?"

Me. She thought I was my mother's grandchild. It's official; I am aging backward.
Yesterday I ran some errands and my first was a stop at Fred's to pick up a new can opener, since I ruined the old one in a tragic Spam musubi incident. A man was walking in as I was walking out and so he held the door for me. I thanked him and then he said, among other things, "Any time." I know that's just conversation fluff, but it made me smile to think about this guy following me around everywhere just opening doors for me. Umbrella/drink holders are so first half of the aughts.

Later at the grocery store, I was behind a woman and her young son. The boy asked for some candy, but his mom told him that he already had some of whatever it was at home and plus, it would spoil his dinner. As I was putting my stuff on the belt, I noticed a flavor of Ice Cubes gum I hadn't seen (strawberry smoothie), so I got a box of that. Then, that kid tried to sell me out! "Her got candy," he indignantly told his mother. Hmmph!

It took me a while to get out of the house because I was so exhausted from house-cleaning and rearranging Saturday. We brought my grandmother home so we had to move her into her new room and get everything else straightened up, since we now have a million people coming in and out of the house all day. (Approximately 99.9% ask me, "Hurr durr, did I wake you up?" Nah, I always stumble to the door with one eye open, hair looking like I'm the lost member of Kajagoogoo.]

It's great that she's home now, though. She's back to having her own room again. She had a roommate at the nursing home and she was okay, but I know from dorm rooms and stuff that it's nice to have your own space, control the remote, talk about what you want, etc. My mother and her brother were visiting once and she told him about the time that we heard a godawful racket coming from the woods and then the next day, my mom made me go look around to see what I could find. I found a dead bobcat, but it'd obviously had been dead longer than a night. At that point, the roommate chimed in with a "Ugh, can you shut up? My stomach is upset." My mom was like, "Oh, I'm sorry, [roommate's name]--I should've remembered that." *beat* My uncle: "SO, HOW LONG YOU THINK IT'D BEEN DEAD? WERE THERE MAGGOTS ON IT?"

I've been lazying in between studying for finals, mostly by watching Supernatural from the beginning. I also watched the trailer for this Norwegian movie about Nazi zombies that's playing at Sundance. I think the zombies look great and exponentially creepier than regular zombies--speaking of Supernatural, I was like Dean in the "Yellow Fever" episode when I watched the trailer. That was scary!

LOL, what is going on here? Lost rules, [ profile] zooby! You just don't know because you don't watch it. Oh, you've seen every season? Oh...well, you're still wrong. Ron Paul '08!

Today is the vote in [ profile] sf_drama for Macro of the Year and I'm having trouble picking. I think I may go with Metallicat, though. Speaking of all things chan, I found this embarrassing moment gripping and emotionally moving.

Other things I've been finding funny reading are Something Awful's Comedy Goldmine and the works of Simon Rich. A commenter at said that he looks like Ramona Quimby, which is both hilarious and disturbing. Like that squid with elbows film that was released last month. As documented, I love cephalopods, but watching that video, I had this reaction: "Squid with elbows? Oh, cool--I love squids! So let's just pan down and see how faOH GOD IN HEAVEN WHAT IS THAT." The horror. The horror.
1) There are many great pieces out there about the election and its aftermath, but my favorite may be Kobe Bryant Scores 25 In Holy Shit We Elected A Black President.

My second favorite being Wil Wheaton's "...or else we didn't win anything at all": “I guess we’re supposed to be gracious in victory,” I said, “but I’m profoundly offended to hear ‘we need to look forward and not backward’ and ‘we need to stop being so partisan’ from the very same fucking motherfuckers who have been telling us that we hate our country and love terrorists for the last eight years? These are the same people who worked really hard to make sure that I and everyone who didn’t agree with their blind support of Bush and Bush policies didn’t feel welcome in our own fucking country for eight years!”

I looked down at my hands, which had involuntarily clenched into fists. I felt a frightening and unexpected, uncharacteristic fury rise in my chest.

“I want to grab these people by the throat and scream at them ‘HOW DO YOU LIKE IT FUCKER?! YOU LOST! YOU FAIL! YOU GO HOME NOW!’”

2) Speaking of Wil, this might be my favorite Tweet ever-- True story: Keith Coogan and I went to a Dead Milkmen show when we shot Toy Soldiers in Charlottesville, Virginia. King Missile opened.

3) MST3K is TWENTY YEARS OLD how did this happen.

And where is Keith Coogan? Breaking: Don't Tell Mom... is not on instant Netflix, but Toy Soldiers is. This movie is so deliciously 80s.

4) After my last Secret Senator Crush went rogue and then totally fucking insane, I had to pick a replacement. I pulled out a longtime favorite who, bonus--is already totally fucking insane. Senator and soon-to-be Chief of Staff Emanuel, I love you Rahm time. See also: Rahm Facts for a let-me-count-the-ways of his majesty. Yes, they include my favorite Rahm fact: the steak knife story.

Now that we're reminiscing about the Clinton White House, I have to say that Erskine Bowles is a great name.

5) Simultaneous thoughts my sister and I had at Wal-Mart Tuesday:

My sister: That looks like Salome's head.
Me: Why is that angry girl with the baby staring at me?


I will write about my NY adventures later. I have to prepare a powerpoint on compost heaps and be glad that this semester is almost over. I really hope I pass this math class and then never take algebra again ever.


In cleaning out my new bedroom, it hasn't all been bleeding arteries. I found this wee pillow when I was cleaning out the closet and it's pretty much awesome:

I got the staples taken out about a week ago and that was great. The wound had pretty much healed but the staples were pulling divots in my skin. Now the trashcan in my bathroom no longer looks like I share a place with Anton Chigurh.
Reminder: voter registration deadlines are coming up soon in many states.

State by state voter laws

God, November is going to be such a busy month for me. The election, probable NYC trip, Norm MacDonald (oh yeah, I am), etc.
wolfpangs: (the hunt)
Oh, that's cool:
  • The new Google phone: I was looking around at new smartphones and my iphone dreams died when I got a look at AT&T's coverage map. Nothing at Verizon really did it for me, so I headed over to my current carrier, Tmo and saw the link for the G1. I'll let you guess at what moment I was sold. I will do some more wait and see with reviews until I actually give them money, though.

  • What's the only thing that would make sweet tea better? Oh, child.

  • Drunk history (that's vol. 1). Funny and still more coherent than my assbad world history class.

  • Excavation at the WTC site reveals Ice Age bedrock. They're a page right out of history...

  • I made cup pies finally (they were becoming my culinary Satchel Paige musical) and they were everything I dreamed they could be.

Ugh, that is not cool:

  • My assbad world history class.

  • The Emmys. (See also: watching the Emmys, having to write about the Emmys, the Emmys cutting off Kirk Ellis in mid-acceptance speech, the hosts for the Emmys, and my personal nadir, the fact that--light of my life, fire of my loins--Stephen Dillane was ROBBED!!!1!.)

  • “I have a commitment not to kiss any other woman,” Kirk Cameron told Hoda Kotb and Kathie Lee Gifford Monday on TODAY in New York. "Even in acting, you're still doing it." To get around the conflict, the filmmakers employed a bit of movie magic, Cameron explained. They dressed his wife, actress Chelsea Noble, like the movie’s female lead and shot the scene in silhouette.

  • I still have staples in my leg. :(
When I went to school today, I was very confused by all the extra people on campus. I didn't even think about my school housing evacuees, but it is and it took the apparently unusual step of remaining open while sheltering. We have around 900 at Wallace College, where I live, and they canceled their classes for the beginning of the week. At my school, there are about 300-400 people staying in our gym. It's very odd. The bookstore (on the other side of the building as the gym) is locked and you have to show a student ID to get in. A classmate even got patted down. They have police tape around the perimeter of the building...

...and "interacting" with the evacuees is discouraged.

Uh, that kinda freaks me out. In between my math class and history, I went to my car to get some change for a drink. Because I was running late, I'd had to park way over in the farthest row, which is the row in front of the gym. My path from my car to history took me through a swarm of children who were running around and playing with members of the girls' softball team. Blue Bell was there, delivering ice cream to the evacuees.

NB: I took this from the pathway next to my history building. I didn't want to be that guy photographing children and I didn't want to rush up on them like they were on a midway, hence my vantage point.
"You undergraduates who see me for the first time have read your newspapers and heard on the air that I am, at the very least, an ogre — a consorter with communists, a destroyer of the rich, a breaker of our ancient traditions. You think of me perhaps as the inventor of the economic royalist, of the wicked utilities, of the money changers of the temple. You have heard for six years that I was about to plunge the nation into war; that you and your little brothers would be sent to the bloody fields of battle in Europe; that I was driving the nation into bankruptcy, and that I breakfasted every morning on a dish of 'grilled millionaire.' Actually I am an exceedingly mild mannered person—a practitioner of peace, both domestic and foreign, a believer in the capitalistic system, and for my breakfast a devotee of scrambled eggs."

Gotta go be tested on my history skillz shortly. When I get back, I should finish the next batch of scanned photos.

Feeling very optimistic. I had a terrible fit of nihilism (read: crushing depression and/or hopelessness) the other day and it was black black black. Then I saw the first five minutes of The Dark Knight and I was like, "That. I believe in that." In the meantime, my Tumblr has become sort of a chronicle of things to believe in. Reasons to be beautiful. The purpose of the moon. It is working out quite well and I have tumbled myself back into my customary optimism. " fear itself." Yes, this.

Albert Camus wrote that the only serious question is whether to kill yourself or not. Tom Robbins wrote that the only serious question is whether time has a beginning and an end. Camus clearly got up on the wrong side of bed, and Robbins must have forgotten to set the alarm.

There is only one serious question. And that is:

Who knows how to make love stay?

Answer me that and I will tell you whether or not to kill yourself. Answer me that and I will ease your mind about the beginning and the end of time. Answer me that and I will reveal to you the purpose of the moon.
...I've finally done something with my Tumblr. I'm still figuring things out. Anyone else tumbling?

In other news, thank you all for all the lovely comments on my photo post. I'm going to start scanning in more pictures later today/this evening. After I get back from picking up a dose of Advantage/buying sushi supplies/hoping they have doughnuts at Duchess Bakery. Uh...bye!



October 2012



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