It's that time of year again. We're all attempting to hold on to the holidays while trying to ignore the plastic reindeer and spools of once-twinkling lights that lie like the victims of a bombing across lawns from which most of the cheer is gone. We put one last hope in New Year's Eve, because after that, we must accept that our lives will return to normal. Another year has passed, regardless of the fanfare with which we see it out.
I don't plan to make any steadfast resolutions, even though there are a few things about myself that could bear with some changing. I could be a little nicer, I could try to shake off the apathy and subversiveness with which I regard my high school career. I could try going for more positivity. I could eat healthier and exercise more (or at all), I could spend less time on the internet. I could save money or count my blessings. Or save my blessings and count my money. All of these things I could do, and I probably should. I'll keep them in mind. Mostly, however, I'm going to try to enjoy my remaining semester. I've done everything I can to get in to college. It's basically out of my hands at this point, so why stress? Why keep pushing myself to do things I don't like? It's not that I plan to slack off in school, just that I don't need to feel guilty for spending time with people whose company I enjoy, or for reading up on subjects I won't be tested on. This is the closest I'll come to a resolution.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Bentham and his Buddies
I adore the Philosophical Radicals. If you don't know who they are, or you need a refresher course, you're in the right place! They were a group of Englishmen most inspired and led by Jeremy Bentham, founder of the utilitarian school of ethics. Utilitarianists believe that the ethicality of an action is determined by its effect on overall happiness. Whatever action will (A) make the most people the happiest or (B) make the least people the least unhappy, is the ethical thing to do.
Around the year 1820, the Philosophical Radicals gave themselves their title. One of this group's strongest tenets is the value of deductive reasoning. They rejected all arguments based on history and custom. Only an argument structured logically from the ground up (root=radical) held any weight to them. In this way, they helped determine the future of philosophy. Skeptical of almost everything, from the church to the military to social convention, they demanded reforms everywhere.
So, basically, these guys were BA. And epic. And all other fantastic terms that could be applied to something so beyond awesome that words pale. Kudos, Bentham, and the like-minded types.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Sorry for the delay...bear with me.
Oh dear readers I have missed you this week. Okay, I haven't missed you all that much because I have been busy. I have done many a lovely and relaxing thing during the break with my parents. It will be my last family vacation while still living at home. I'm not quite sure what to think of this- it feels strange. A little sad, a little nostalgic. Mostly happy, though, as it was a wonderful vacation. We did all kinds of awesome stuff, like touring the College of William & Mary (which I simply MUST attend), shopping, swimming in a heated pool, going to the wonderfully gaudy Busch Gardens Christmastown, and walking the DoG (that's W&M slang for the mile-long Duke of Glouchester Street). Also, there was snow. Which was amazing.
I returned home on Christmas. It was raining the whole way home, or in the words of Luke Copeland by way of his brother, it was warm snowing. I made my mother play every CD I got for Christmas (there are 17) in the car. At home, we had our little prepackaged Christmas dinner. It was all quite quaint.
I don't have anything to make you think today, but I do have a few suggestions. One: see the film Avatar. It is beyond epic. Two: if you like French history or feminism, read Liberty by Lucy Moore. I'm in the midst of it now, and I find it immensely entertaining and interesting; it's nonfiction written like a novel, the story of the lives of several women from different walks of life before, during, and post the French Revolution. And three: listen to the album Dear Catastrophe Waitress by Belle & Sebastian. It's a few years old, and you've likely been exposed to it already, but it is so wonderful that I feel the need to implore you to hear it.
That is all, lovely readers. Until next time!
I returned home on Christmas. It was raining the whole way home, or in the words of Luke Copeland by way of his brother, it was warm snowing. I made my mother play every CD I got for Christmas (there are 17) in the car. At home, we had our little prepackaged Christmas dinner. It was all quite quaint.
I don't have anything to make you think today, but I do have a few suggestions. One: see the film Avatar. It is beyond epic. Two: if you like French history or feminism, read Liberty by Lucy Moore. I'm in the midst of it now, and I find it immensely entertaining and interesting; it's nonfiction written like a novel, the story of the lives of several women from different walks of life before, during, and post the French Revolution. And three: listen to the album Dear Catastrophe Waitress by Belle & Sebastian. It's a few years old, and you've likely been exposed to it already, but it is so wonderful that I feel the need to implore you to hear it.
That is all, lovely readers. Until next time!
Friday, December 18, 2009
BJR
Bonjour, readers! Politically Correct Break has officially begun. So here I am, wishing you a Happy/Merry/Satisfactory Whatever. Enjoy your celebrations, or lack thereof.
Today was the Senior Breakfast, at which the Superlatives were announced. I had been nominated in two categories, Most Likely to Change the World, and Most Likely to Be Your Boss. I won Most Likely to Be Your Boss, which is amusing for several reasons. First, the Like a Boss video by the Lonely Island is full of much hilarity. Second, I do not plan on ever entering the corporate world.
I am finished with college applications, and I have been granted a full tuition scholarship to Pitt. I don't know if I'll accept, but it's nice to hear, anyway. I now have months ahead of financial aid applications and scholarship applications and other such things...
Today was the Senior Breakfast, at which the Superlatives were announced. I had been nominated in two categories, Most Likely to Change the World, and Most Likely to Be Your Boss. I won Most Likely to Be Your Boss, which is amusing for several reasons. First, the Like a Boss video by the Lonely Island is full of much hilarity. Second, I do not plan on ever entering the corporate world.
I am finished with college applications, and I have been granted a full tuition scholarship to Pitt. I don't know if I'll accept, but it's nice to hear, anyway. I now have months ahead of financial aid applications and scholarship applications and other such things...
Thursday, December 17, 2009
Makes Me Go Hmm...(3)
A deus ex machina is when a person or object appears out of nowhere with the sole purpose of moving a plot along. It was parodied in the film Dodgeball, when a treasure chest full of money is wheeled onto the dodgeball court. Across its side reads Deus Ex Machina. Lulz.
It's generally accepted that use of a deus ex machina is evidence of poor storytelling technique. It literally means "God from the machine", referring to the practice of lowering actors playing gods and goddesses to the stage with a crane. If a playwright was either a) not very good at writing plays or b) pressed for time, and his plot got horribly convoluted or irresolvable, he could simply introduce a god to fix everything. Isn't it funny how, even in the days of ancient Greek theatre, people still expected God to come out of nowhere and fix all thier problems?
It's generally accepted that use of a deus ex machina is evidence of poor storytelling technique. It literally means "God from the machine", referring to the practice of lowering actors playing gods and goddesses to the stage with a crane. If a playwright was either a) not very good at writing plays or b) pressed for time, and his plot got horribly convoluted or irresolvable, he could simply introduce a god to fix everything. Isn't it funny how, even in the days of ancient Greek theatre, people still expected God to come out of nowhere and fix all thier problems?
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Makes Me Go Hmm...(2)
I wikipedia-ed Susan Sontag recently, and I came across this quote about taking pictures while on vacation:
The method especially appeals to people handicapped by a ruthless work ethic – Germans, Japanese and Americans. Using a camera appeases the anxiety which the work driven feel about not working when they are on vacation and supposed to be having fun. They have something to do that is like a friendly imitation of work: they can take pictures.
I think Sontag is right. At the risk of stereotyping, people from countries where a strong work ethic is praised tend to take more pictures. This makes me wonder if the obsession with work that is so ingrained in the American psyche affects us in other ways as well. Is it possible that in our obsession with work, we've forgotten how to play? We have so disvalued anything not useful for production that we don't even think about it. We don't allow ourselves activities that are purely recreational, even when we are having recreation. Everything is a part of the plan...everything must relate to work and utility in some way. Just a little something to be aware of.
The method especially appeals to people handicapped by a ruthless work ethic – Germans, Japanese and Americans. Using a camera appeases the anxiety which the work driven feel about not working when they are on vacation and supposed to be having fun. They have something to do that is like a friendly imitation of work: they can take pictures.
I think Sontag is right. At the risk of stereotyping, people from countries where a strong work ethic is praised tend to take more pictures. This makes me wonder if the obsession with work that is so ingrained in the American psyche affects us in other ways as well. Is it possible that in our obsession with work, we've forgotten how to play? We have so disvalued anything not useful for production that we don't even think about it. We don't allow ourselves activities that are purely recreational, even when we are having recreation. Everything is a part of the plan...everything must relate to work and utility in some way. Just a little something to be aware of.
Monday, December 14, 2009
Makes Me Go Hmm...(1)
My friends have had very interesting things to say over the past few days, and I've come across some interesting ideas. I want to take some time to encourage you, bloggity-followers, to think as well, and so I'll be posting paragraphs about things that made me think.
Disillusionment of teenagers:
A friend of mine, who, like me, is ranked at the top of his class, asked me Sunday night "How did we get like this?", meaning "How did all of us, in the top of the class, end up so sarcastic and resentful and apathetic?". I don't know, exactly, but I think the public school system with its beaureacracy and competition and petty rules has so supressed our creative spirits that we gave up on it. Now, as seniors, we are more like outside observers, the cynics of the world of secondary school. We're jaded, not in the romantic sense, but in a life sense. At seventeen or eighteen years old, we're already tired. We can't have the same positivity and youthfulness that we entered high school with because it's been sucked out of us. Our innocent love of learning has been subdued over and over by a system designed not to encourage us to foster that love, but to encourage us to be quiet and respectful and subservient. I have hope, though. I think that upon entrance into the university system, we'll remember that spark we've always had within us. Our "flame for learning" will be rekindled and we'll lose the apathy and resentment that has so built up in us. Or, at least, this is the idealist vision I have of the greater world of academia. If it is flawed, I don't want to know.
Disillusionment of teenagers:
A friend of mine, who, like me, is ranked at the top of his class, asked me Sunday night "How did we get like this?", meaning "How did all of us, in the top of the class, end up so sarcastic and resentful and apathetic?". I don't know, exactly, but I think the public school system with its beaureacracy and competition and petty rules has so supressed our creative spirits that we gave up on it. Now, as seniors, we are more like outside observers, the cynics of the world of secondary school. We're jaded, not in the romantic sense, but in a life sense. At seventeen or eighteen years old, we're already tired. We can't have the same positivity and youthfulness that we entered high school with because it's been sucked out of us. Our innocent love of learning has been subdued over and over by a system designed not to encourage us to foster that love, but to encourage us to be quiet and respectful and subservient. I have hope, though. I think that upon entrance into the university system, we'll remember that spark we've always had within us. Our "flame for learning" will be rekindled and we'll lose the apathy and resentment that has so built up in us. Or, at least, this is the idealist vision I have of the greater world of academia. If it is flawed, I don't want to know.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Rant
I must take a minute to bitch about application fees. I don't understand how it's possible that it takes any university six months and $75 to decide if they want me or not. Meh. It's rather disheartening...I'm starting to think the goal is to make me feel unimportant. If that's the case, American university system, you've succeeded. I completed my sixth application today. And sent my sixth application fee. I need an application scholarship just as much as one for actual school!
Friday, December 11, 2009
Un Autre Update
Happy Frietag, bloggity-followers. So far my day has been mildly entertaining...we voted for Senior Superlatives in homeroom. Interestingly, the same five people were in every category. My favorite was "Most Responsible", as one of the nominees recently had a DUI, or so the rumor goes. This just in- he was featured in The Slammer, a classy publication which prints people's mug shots. Charming. I hope he wins, although I might die of irony poisoning. It's like septicemia. Which is an Anatomy and Physiology ten-point word this week. There have been some fantastic words in that joke of a class this semester. For example, hematopoesis. I lahve this word so much that I attempt to work it into mundane conversation. I have failed thus far.
Something else that has come to pass this week- I dusted off my copy of the Beatles' Abbey Road. Okay, so I've listened to it a million times, but I've gone on a little Beatles hiatus lately. I lent the CD to a friend and upon its return to me, I started to listen to it again. It has been on constant rotation for a week now. I'm really into the song I Want You (She's So Heavy) with its sultry blues influences and grainy prog-rock vocals. It's awesome. Of course, there are better songs on the album, like Come Together, Here Comes The Sun, Maxwell's Silver Hammer, Octopus's Garden, and other such well-touted tracks, but I Want You (She's So Heavy) had so slipped under my radar that I'm really discovering it for the first time, which is an exhilirating feeling, an exhilirating feeling that hasn't happened with the Beatles and I for a long time. I know all their music so well that I rarely find myself discovering it. I believe the last time I discovered a new Beatles song to love was The Ballad Of John and Yoko about two years ago.
They're like an old friend, the Beatles, always picking me up when I'm down, and always there for me. I can always count on the Beatles when new music sucks or I get tired of hearing the same drumkit and electronica that gets so annoying after a while. In my little book of lists currently serving as my diary, I attempted to write a list of my favorite Beatles songs. I couldn't do it. I couldn't even begin. So here's to you, George. Here's to you, Paul. Here's to you, John. And...here's to you, Ringo. And here's to I Want You (She's So Heavy), because it's the last song on which all four of you joined together in the studio as the one special organism that made music history. You Fab Four have always been and will always be the voices on the soundtrack of my life.
Something else that has come to pass this week- I dusted off my copy of the Beatles' Abbey Road. Okay, so I've listened to it a million times, but I've gone on a little Beatles hiatus lately. I lent the CD to a friend and upon its return to me, I started to listen to it again. It has been on constant rotation for a week now. I'm really into the song I Want You (She's So Heavy) with its sultry blues influences and grainy prog-rock vocals. It's awesome. Of course, there are better songs on the album, like Come Together, Here Comes The Sun, Maxwell's Silver Hammer, Octopus's Garden, and other such well-touted tracks, but I Want You (She's So Heavy) had so slipped under my radar that I'm really discovering it for the first time, which is an exhilirating feeling, an exhilirating feeling that hasn't happened with the Beatles and I for a long time. I know all their music so well that I rarely find myself discovering it. I believe the last time I discovered a new Beatles song to love was The Ballad Of John and Yoko about two years ago.
They're like an old friend, the Beatles, always picking me up when I'm down, and always there for me. I can always count on the Beatles when new music sucks or I get tired of hearing the same drumkit and electronica that gets so annoying after a while. In my little book of lists currently serving as my diary, I attempted to write a list of my favorite Beatles songs. I couldn't do it. I couldn't even begin. So here's to you, George. Here's to you, Paul. Here's to you, John. And...here's to you, Ringo. And here's to I Want You (She's So Heavy), because it's the last song on which all four of you joined together in the studio as the one special organism that made music history. You Fab Four have always been and will always be the voices on the soundtrack of my life.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Today's Happenings
I was called down to Student Services today. I sit in the guidance counselor's office, and the following conversation ensues:
Counselor: What kind of car do you drive?
Me: A Saturn.
Counselor: A coupe, right?
Me: Yes...
Counselor: Are you stressed?
Me: I am now.
At this point, I am very nervous indeed. I'm afraid that she'll say I hit another car or parked in the wrong space, or that I didn't register my vehicle correctly, or maybe that someone else hit my car. I'm quickly approaching panic when she pulls my keys from her pocket.
Counselor: I figured you might need these. Apparently you were a little stressed this morning, because you left them in the lock on your trunk.
Me: Oh my gosh, thank you.
On a completely unrelated note, for all of you internet geeks out there- LEAVE BOXXY ALONE!!!
Counselor: What kind of car do you drive?
Me: A Saturn.
Counselor: A coupe, right?
Me: Yes...
Counselor: Are you stressed?
Me: I am now.
At this point, I am very nervous indeed. I'm afraid that she'll say I hit another car or parked in the wrong space, or that I didn't register my vehicle correctly, or maybe that someone else hit my car. I'm quickly approaching panic when she pulls my keys from her pocket.
Counselor: I figured you might need these. Apparently you were a little stressed this morning, because you left them in the lock on your trunk.
Me: Oh my gosh, thank you.
On a completely unrelated note, for all of you internet geeks out there- LEAVE BOXXY ALONE!!!
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Tuesdays
It feels as if it has been a month of Mondays, and in reality, it's only two days through the week. Augh, why must Tuesdays exist? It seems the only positive things that happen in relation to Tuesday are song lyrics:
- We are drinking beer at noon on Tuesday. (Sheryl Crow)
- Sun comes up, it's Tuesday morning. (Cowboy Junkies)
- Tuesday's gone with the wind. (Lynrd Skynrd)
- I believe it was a Tuesday when you caught my eye. (Taylor Swift)
- Tuesday morning, please be gone I'm tired of you. (Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young)
Monday, December 7, 2009
Oops!
For those of you who follow me so avidly that you saw the "Plans" post that was up for a few hours today, I apologize. It was incomplete. I had "premature blogjaculation" as another blogger so succintly puts it. I will post "Plans" soon, when it is actually finished. There's a silver lining on it- I assure you the end product will be nowhere as emo as the bit you originally saw. Sorry again!
Lists
It is Monday. Meh. Bof. And other such interjections which mean "blah".
I used to write in a diary, but I wasn't very good at it, as I rarely kept up with it, and frequently my writing got so angsty/whiny/just plain boring, that I annoyed myself. So I stopped. I have since replaced my diary with a little book of lists. The lists describe the daily happenings of moi and my thoughts better than the diary format ever could. I shall occasionally share these lists with you, dear followers. Here are a few of my most recents:
Words Impossible to Define
Trollin'
Sketch
Respect
Hot
Concerts I've Attended and My Ratings of Them (in Retrospect)
Journey: **
Riders in the Sky: ****
Allison Krauss and Union Station: *****
Shania Twain: **
Jimmy Buffett: **
Dave Matthews Band: ****
Jack Johnson: *****
Maroon 5/Counting Crows/Sara Bareilles: *****
U2: *****
Things with Which I Have a (Possibly Unhealthy) Obsession
France
Audrey Hepburn
Lists
Steampunk stuff
Gossip Girl
Vampires (the evil kind, not the sparkly vegetarian types)
Josephine Bonaparte
Period fashion, especially Colonial
Lady Gaga
The Beatles
Knowing the lyrics to every song I hear
Virology/epidemiology
Navy blue
The Cathedral of Learning and the Wren Building
Imperfect things
John Mayer's twitter updates
I used to write in a diary, but I wasn't very good at it, as I rarely kept up with it, and frequently my writing got so angsty/whiny/just plain boring, that I annoyed myself. So I stopped. I have since replaced my diary with a little book of lists. The lists describe the daily happenings of moi and my thoughts better than the diary format ever could. I shall occasionally share these lists with you, dear followers. Here are a few of my most recents:
Words Impossible to Define
Trollin'
Sketch
Respect
Hot
Concerts I've Attended and My Ratings of Them (in Retrospect)
Journey: **
Riders in the Sky: ****
Allison Krauss and Union Station: *****
Shania Twain: **
Jimmy Buffett: **
Dave Matthews Band: ****
Jack Johnson: *****
Maroon 5/Counting Crows/Sara Bareilles: *****
U2: *****
Things with Which I Have a (Possibly Unhealthy) Obsession
France
Audrey Hepburn
Lists
Steampunk stuff
Gossip Girl
Vampires (the evil kind, not the sparkly vegetarian types)
Josephine Bonaparte
Period fashion, especially Colonial
Lady Gaga
The Beatles
Knowing the lyrics to every song I hear
Virology/epidemiology
Navy blue
The Cathedral of Learning and the Wren Building
Imperfect things
John Mayer's twitter updates
Sunday, December 6, 2009
A Little Taste of Heaven (also known as France)
As the soothing melodies of Iron and Wine lull me into some sort of calm, relaxed trance, I feel the need to write. The weekend's happenings have been few and uninteresting...Last night, I cooked. I shall call the dish I created something along the lines of Supreme de Vielle Poule which, when translated, does not sound delicious...but it was, I assure you. It is based off of a tiny little recipe in The Joy of Cooking.
-Butcher a five-pound roasting chicken.
-Sear the pieces in butter and add a quarter-cup of dry, buttery white wine.
-Take the chicken out of the pot. Add apples, celery, onions, chicken stock, 2 tablespoons of flour, paprika, and fresh parsley to taste. Boil until apples are tender.
-Put the chicken back in the pot. Simmer for an hour.
-Remove the chicken from the pot. Strain the sauce, keeping the strained gravy part, not the chunks. Mix 1/3 cup of sour cream with the sauce over a double boiler. Add dry tarragon.
-Put the sauce and the chicken in a casserole pan. Cover the chicken with shredded Parmesan.
-Broil until the cheese is brownish.
-Broil until the cheese is brownish.
Ta-Dah! Enjoy! Feel French all evening and impress your guests. They will be asking you "what IS that taste? It's so fresh. Is that mint? Cinnamon? Maybe...tarragon?" You will smile and nod and feel very, very accomplished. This is even better if someone watches you cook the dish, as it is just complicated enough to make you look like you know what you're doing.
Friday, December 4, 2009
The Longing of Despereaux
And now I find myself searching for something about which to write. Searching...this reminds me of a line in The Tale of Despereaux, which I watched a couple of nights ago. It was something about "longing" and how Princess Pea was full of it. It's a very difficult feeling to describe, longing. Dictionary.com defines it as "strong, persistent desire or craving, esp. for something unattainable or distant" and I think this is about the best definition we'll see.
Everyone has experienced longing, I think. I've had this feeling lately, for a while now. I'm not sure what I'm longing for...it seems to hover just over the horizon, a dim light, glowing and pulsing, waiting for me to reach it. The best way I can think to explain it is through the song Something's Coming from West Side Story.
"Could be. Who knows? There's something due any day. I will know right away, soon as it shows... I got a feeling there's a miracle due. Gonna come true. Coming to me. Could it be? Yes it could- Something's coming, something good. If I can wait, something's coming, I don't know what it is..." Maybe some time soon it will reach me, or I'll reach it. Either way.
I don't think I'm finished discussing Despereaux just yet. First, I never did read the book, so don't criticize me. If the movie wasn't as good as the book, tant pis. I'm talking about the movie here. It was lovely. There are some great lines, and the film had such childish innocence, naivete and youthful optimism to it that it managed to lift my spirits. It also got me thinking; my aimless ponderings about the movie's most classic lines follow.
"If you know anything about fairy tales, then you know that a hero doesn't appear until the world really needs one" The world needs a hero now more than ever. When will our hero appear? We've pinned the job of hero onto many people throughout history, and we're always disappointed. The latest in this story is Barack Obama- he might succeed yet, but the expectations a country full of longing put onto him are impossible. He can't be everything we want at once.
"When your heart breaks it can grow back crooked. It grows back twisted and gnarled and hard." This is true...when someone hurts someone else, the hurt person is never really the same. Sure, they can get over it. Sure, their heart will heal. Sure, they'll move on. But in truth, there's always a bit of scar tissue. There's always that memory of the hurt, or there's regret, or there's a little voice saying they're not good enough. Maybe the person just grows jaded.
"The story said she was a prisoner but that wasn't totally true because she had hope and whenever you have hope, you're never really anybody's prisoner. " Barack Obama should have used this in his campaign. I, however, disagree with this quote. I think hope can actually make us into prisoners. We can hold out hope for something for so long that eventually, the hope is all we have left. We're trapped by the very thing that's supposed to free us.
Everyone has experienced longing, I think. I've had this feeling lately, for a while now. I'm not sure what I'm longing for...it seems to hover just over the horizon, a dim light, glowing and pulsing, waiting for me to reach it. The best way I can think to explain it is through the song Something's Coming from West Side Story.
"Could be. Who knows? There's something due any day. I will know right away, soon as it shows... I got a feeling there's a miracle due. Gonna come true. Coming to me. Could it be? Yes it could- Something's coming, something good. If I can wait, something's coming, I don't know what it is..." Maybe some time soon it will reach me, or I'll reach it. Either way.
I don't think I'm finished discussing Despereaux just yet. First, I never did read the book, so don't criticize me. If the movie wasn't as good as the book, tant pis. I'm talking about the movie here. It was lovely. There are some great lines, and the film had such childish innocence, naivete and youthful optimism to it that it managed to lift my spirits. It also got me thinking; my aimless ponderings about the movie's most classic lines follow.
"If you know anything about fairy tales, then you know that a hero doesn't appear until the world really needs one" The world needs a hero now more than ever. When will our hero appear? We've pinned the job of hero onto many people throughout history, and we're always disappointed. The latest in this story is Barack Obama- he might succeed yet, but the expectations a country full of longing put onto him are impossible. He can't be everything we want at once.
"When your heart breaks it can grow back crooked. It grows back twisted and gnarled and hard." This is true...when someone hurts someone else, the hurt person is never really the same. Sure, they can get over it. Sure, their heart will heal. Sure, they'll move on. But in truth, there's always a bit of scar tissue. There's always that memory of the hurt, or there's regret, or there's a little voice saying they're not good enough. Maybe the person just grows jaded.
"The story said she was a prisoner but that wasn't totally true because she had hope and whenever you have hope, you're never really anybody's prisoner. " Barack Obama should have used this in his campaign. I, however, disagree with this quote. I think hope can actually make us into prisoners. We can hold out hope for something for so long that eventually, the hope is all we have left. We're trapped by the very thing that's supposed to free us.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
"Sweet and matchless Josephine, how strangely you work upon my heart"
I am generally not a sucker for a love story. See “Romance” under “Things Everyone But Me Likes”. Yet, I am and always have been captivated by the story of Napoleon and Josephine. The basic plotline is as follows, played out in a serious of passionate letters:
Napoleon Bonaparte, a young Revolutionary soldier, meets the unbelievably beautiful Josephine Beauharnhais, a widowed socialite and mother of two.
He courts her, eventually obtaining her hand in marriage.
Napoleon goes off to war. Josephine is home, lonely and bored. She takes on many lovers, and eventually Napoleon finds out.
He is heartbroken and angry and feels he must ask for a divorce, though he loves her still. Josephine convinces him otherwise. He never lets her live down her infidelity, but they move past this obstacle.
Napoleon is crowned Emperor, and in a touching ceremony, bestows the title Empress on Josephine.
They seem to be unable to conceive a child, a problem Napoleon blames on himself. The pressure increases for him to bear an heir.
They seem to be unable to conceive a child, a problem Napoleon blames on himself. The pressure increases for him to bear an heir.
One of Napoleon’s mistresses (he is the cheater now, still making up for Josephine’s adultery) has a baby by him, which he cannot claim legally. He then realizes he is able to conceive children after all and begins blaming the problem on Josephine.
He divorces Josephine and marries 18-year-old Marie Louise of Austria. Napoleon and Marie Louise conceive a son, Napoleon’s heir.
Napoleon is exiled to Elba. He and Josephine continue to write letters as they always had. She asks to be permitted to join him in Elba in the last letter she ever writes, dying before she receives his reply.
When Napoleon escapes and returns to Paris, the first thing he does is ask Josephine’s doctor what happened to her. The doctor tells him she died of a broken heart.
Napoleon dies. His last words are rumored to have been “France, the army, Josephine”.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Hola, bonjour, and bonjourno!
Good afternoon, bloggity-followers! I hope you are all doing swimmingly.
Today, I am nearly finished Christmas shopping. I have but two items remaining to purchase, and I believe I will head to Kohl's and fight the masses in order to purchase them. In other news, I had a scrumptious dinner with my parents at The Twisted Fork last night. I do highly recommend the restaurant for moderately-priced, interesting takes on old favorites. There's a little something to excite every palate- I personally selected a lamb sirloin burger with tzatziki sauce and a cappuccino truffle for dessert. Twas delish. Our server, Chad, was very amusing. If you go to this restaurant and would rather have a laugh than fast service, he's the one for you!
Thought of the day: there is a thin line between love and hate. We only hate people we care enough about to be hurt by.
Tcaio, lovely ones!
Friday, November 27, 2009
Poem-type Thing
Word Exercises
Cat stares out the window at a
Cool Guy walking with a
Woman, down the street.
Are they in love?
A rose grows nearby-
A flower, looking at the various
Fauna.
Does it know Latin?
Can it comprehend Greek?
Like the architecture of the city that curls around.
Build! Build! Bigger-
Brick by brick, the contractors turn the world into
Mud brown, no longer blue and green.
Cool Guy tomorrow
Doesn’t notice the sun.
Cher plays in his ears,
Pop strains blurring the world.
A bottle lies on the street. Leaves it.
A fly lands on his finger. Brushes it off.
Airplanes float in
The sky, unnoticed-
Dark clouds drift by, unseen.
As the weather changes, bolts of
Lightning pierce the atmosphere, bright
Gold in their glory, leaving
Silver streaks before his eyes
Silver
Like the hair of aging Society Women
They know the truth.
Innocence is purity.
So sad it is for the jaded crowds that
Loneliness always equals
Emptiness.
An equation that adds up to
Lives not full of the substantial.
And for this, our future is unclear-
Almost like glass, when broken
We’ve shattered.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Haiku (The Further Adventures of the Rat)
Why does mankind hate?
I am but a low rat, yet
I do not hate men.
The Start of a Story
Fwoer had been walking a few paces behind his older brother, Duenne, when he was grabbed by the collar and roughly shoved behind a bush.
"Ooof! That hurts! Let go! Owww!" Fwoer shook his body viciously, trying to deflect his attacker. He even flailed his arms about, hoping he might by some miracle be able to knock his attacker in the face. But he was an awfully small boy, only ten summers old, and he was weak.
“Quiet!” The attacker had a raspy voice. Fwoer swiveled his head to take a look at him, which would have been easier to do if his upper body wasn't wrapped tight by one huge arm. Fwoer's attacker was very tall and had a large stomach which protruded absurdly from the center of his otherwise proportional and muscular frame. The man was cloaked in roomy garments of thick black canvas, as if to hide his stomach, but they just made it so Fwoer couldn’t really see much more of his body; the stomach remained clearly outlined.
“Why,” the attacker grunted, “were you traveling the Queen’s PRIVATE road?”
“Well, Sir, I didn't know that it was her road, exactly. You see, I can explain. I was here because I had to get to...ummm...I’m sorry, mister." Fweor stammered, hoping to be interrupted. In truth, he couldn't explain. He was most certainly on the road illegally.
"Call me Gieo. Since you find it so utterly amusing to trod other people’s roads, you'll have no problem with a trip to the Queen for sentencing." Gieo stared right into his prisoner’s face.
"Gieo? In my travels, I encountered another person along this here PRIVATE road. I think I know where he is. Wouldn't the Queen be proud if you could bring two vagabonds?" Fwoer stared intently back at Gieo.
"Well…I’d have to, you see, I'd need to, well, I would be expected to…handcuff you!" Gieo was self-satisfied. A real policeman indeed. The Queen wasn't wrong about him, no way, surely she knew what she was doing. He was made for law enforcement. He loosened his grip on the boy and reached for the handcuffs in his pocket.
“But of course. Let us be on our way, then. The other vagabond, Duenne, may be gone by now. He moves fast. We ought to run.” And, just like that, Fwoer took off as quickly as he could. Gieo tried to follow him, but Fwoer moved considerably faster- his birth gift had been speed. Gieo’s was brute strength, perhaps useful in a fight with a bear, but completely worthless against a gazelle.
Fwoer finally slowed down once he could hear his brother calling his name.
"Calm down, Duenne. I’m over here." He quickly nestled himself in a briar bush so it would appear that he had fallen.
Letter to You
This is a letter to you. You will likely never read it, but that's all right. I just know I had to write it. First, I love you. I am very glad you're alive. You can be mad at me forever and I will never regret helping to save your life. You know, I prayed to a God I'm not even sure I believe in for you. I did everything I knew to do, and it must have worked, because here you are. I wrote a poem for you, love.
Step back from that ledge, my dear-
Can't you see we need you here?
In a world that's full of hurt and pain,
Can't you see we're all the same?
You never really can escape,
No matter what dark road you take.
So stay here and join the dance
I'm only asking that you give it a chance.
Alas, alack, you're still not free-
But I'm relieved that you're still here with me.
This life is how it was meant to be,
And if you stay, I know you'll see
That a day of love is worth a year of pain
And life is something you can't regain
But if you choose to yourself reclaim
I'll be with you, one and the same.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Stuff That Everyone But Me Likes
I began listing in my head yesterday all the things that I dislike, soon realizing that half of this list consisted of things other people like very well. Thus, this post was born. Eventually this list will be followed up with Stuff No One But Me Likes, such as the number 36, my favorite number, and also the number of items on this somewhat indignant and highly irrelevant list. Enjoy.
- Spaghetti
- Perogies
- Overly simplistic writing
- Summer weather
- Soup
- Bella Swann
- Bacon and cheese, atop anything that isn’t bacon or cheese
- Silence
- “Bless your heart”
- Babies
Unnecessary capitalization Underusage of commas Golden Corral - Long fingernails
- Cultural relativism
- Giving or receiving driving directions
- Candy corn
- Romance
- Hijabs
- “Talking” as a relationship status
- Gas stations
- Bad French accents
- Grits
- Roman-numeraled watches
- Trickle-down economics
- People who “hate lawyers”
- Tiny dogs
- Tiny handbags
- Throw pillows
- English history
- Parenthetical remarks
- "Irregardless"
- Euphemism
- Soft mattresses
- Australian accents
- Oprah's book club
Character Traits
My school has blue papers posted in every classroom (by countywide mandate) listing Character Traits. I feel the need to share a few of them with you, readers, as they are muchos très humorous.
RESPONSIBILITY
Being dependable in carring (sic) out obigations (sic) and duties. Showing reliability and consistency in words and conduct. Being accountable for your own actions. Being committed to active involvement in your community.
So…it is responsible to spell atrociously and to use sentence fragments profusely. I must add that consistency is neccessarily a good thing. If someone is consistently stupid, or food from a particular restaraunt tastes consistently bad, this does not make the idiot or crappy restaraunt extraordinarily responsible. Responsibility is thus NOT a synonym for consistency.
FAIRNESS
Practicing justice, equity, and equality. Cooperating with one another. Recognizing the uniqueness and value of each individual within our diverse society.
I feel as if someone had a thesaurus and looked up “fairness”. Fairness: justice, equity, equality.
Since when is cooperating an important part of fairness? If a judge “cooperates” with the man on trial, does that make the ruling more fair? It sounds illegal to me…
Also. What does diversity have to do with fairness? Being culturally relative in one’s approach to situations in no way makes that approach more fair. For example- giving preferential treatment in court to minorities does not make the court more just. I agree that we should recognize uniqueness, but not because it is fair. It is in fact, unfair, to treat people who are unique differently. In the fairest of worlds, everyone would be treated the same, in effect de-emphasizing the uniqueness of our diverse society.
HONESTY
Being accountability (sic) and truthful in words and actions. Telling the truth and admitting wrongdoing. Being trustworthy and acting with integrity.
Being accountability. I believe this speaks for itself.
I’m glad that telling the truth AND admitting wrongdoing are on here, as they are obviously not the same thing. Thank you, Johnston County Schools, Department of Inspirational Propaganda.
On another note, no one informed the authors that some Character Traits are not positive. Just because something is an aspect of someone's personality, does not make it something to strive for. The Character Traits posters should be more accurate. Where's the SADISM poster? The NARCISSISM poster? The APATHY poster? No one informed the authors, either, that they should never have given up their day jobs for inspirational writing.
RESPONSIBILITY
Being dependable in carring (sic) out obigations (sic) and duties. Showing reliability and consistency in words and conduct. Being accountable for your own actions. Being committed to active involvement in your community.
So…it is responsible to spell atrociously and to use sentence fragments profusely. I must add that consistency is neccessarily a good thing. If someone is consistently stupid, or food from a particular restaraunt tastes consistently bad, this does not make the idiot or crappy restaraunt extraordinarily responsible. Responsibility is thus NOT a synonym for consistency.
FAIRNESS
Practicing justice, equity, and equality. Cooperating with one another. Recognizing the uniqueness and value of each individual within our diverse society.
I feel as if someone had a thesaurus and looked up “fairness”. Fairness: justice, equity, equality.
Since when is cooperating an important part of fairness? If a judge “cooperates” with the man on trial, does that make the ruling more fair? It sounds illegal to me…
Also. What does diversity have to do with fairness? Being culturally relative in one’s approach to situations in no way makes that approach more fair. For example- giving preferential treatment in court to minorities does not make the court more just. I agree that we should recognize uniqueness, but not because it is fair. It is in fact, unfair, to treat people who are unique differently. In the fairest of worlds, everyone would be treated the same, in effect de-emphasizing the uniqueness of our diverse society.
HONESTY
Being accountability (sic) and truthful in words and actions. Telling the truth and admitting wrongdoing. Being trustworthy and acting with integrity.
Being accountability. I believe this speaks for itself.
I’m glad that telling the truth AND admitting wrongdoing are on here, as they are obviously not the same thing. Thank you, Johnston County Schools, Department of Inspirational Propaganda.
On another note, no one informed the authors that some Character Traits are not positive. Just because something is an aspect of someone's personality, does not make it something to strive for. The Character Traits posters should be more accurate. Where's the SADISM poster? The NARCISSISM poster? The APATHY poster? No one informed the authors, either, that they should never have given up their day jobs for inspirational writing.
Monday, November 23, 2009
New Moon
Let's talk about New Moon! I choose to impart to you, lovely readers, today, my own personal critiques of my favorite scenes from this stellar film experience.
Edward's Entrance: This was by far the best part of the movie. As he glides in vampirically, his shirt flaps about in the wind and his copper-wire hair ripples like waves of grain. While the twelve-year-old girls scream, I realize that nowhere else in the scene is there wind. Edward Cullen, Sex God, creates his own wind. In the words of the friend I dragged along with me, "The wind is produced by a hole in his head, obviously. All the hot air is leaking out".
The Dramatic Scene with Bella and Jacob and Edward Where She May Have to Choose Between Them: This produced many lulz. As Kristen Stewart holds her "I'm so stressed and yet so beautiful" face, looking from the vampire man to the wolf man and back again, she delivers my favorite line of the movie. "Don't make me choose, Jacob. Because it will be him." It seems to me that she has already chosen. Huh. Also, the deadpan way in which she says this is priceless.
I find Bella to be one of the most annoying literary characters I have ever encountered. She's whiney, needy, immature, negative, and above all, selfish. Usually, I like annoying literary characters, as I am always seeking out flawed individuals to whom I can relate. Characters with no issues are boring. No one wants to read a book where the first line is "There once was a girl with no problems". Oh, wait, isn't that a Jane Austen book?
Yes, I remember now..."Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her. " This is why Jane Austen novels do not appeal to me.
Back to Bella. Bella, as a character, is entirely unappealing. I don't find her interesting in the way most flawed people are, as her issues are not at all out of her control. She could choose to see the glass half-full or to be less clingy. She could choose to think about people other than herself, and yet she doesn't. I realize that many, many girls identify with her. And to those girls I say this: you don't have to be like that! Just because one annoying, childish girl got the man of her dreams in one fictional series, does not mean you should see this as a rule. It is not a rule. From my limited experience with men, I can say that high-maintainence is not appealing. Neither is whining. Nor is "I would die without you".
In closing, the movie was amusing. I highly reccommend it, especially if seen with one's most cynical friends in a theatre full of screaming schoolgirls.
Edward's Entrance: This was by far the best part of the movie. As he glides in vampirically, his shirt flaps about in the wind and his copper-wire hair ripples like waves of grain. While the twelve-year-old girls scream, I realize that nowhere else in the scene is there wind. Edward Cullen, Sex God, creates his own wind. In the words of the friend I dragged along with me, "The wind is produced by a hole in his head, obviously. All the hot air is leaking out".
The Dramatic Scene with Bella and Jacob and Edward Where She May Have to Choose Between Them: This produced many lulz. As Kristen Stewart holds her "I'm so stressed and yet so beautiful" face, looking from the vampire man to the wolf man and back again, she delivers my favorite line of the movie. "Don't make me choose, Jacob. Because it will be him." It seems to me that she has already chosen. Huh. Also, the deadpan way in which she says this is priceless.
I find Bella to be one of the most annoying literary characters I have ever encountered. She's whiney, needy, immature, negative, and above all, selfish. Usually, I like annoying literary characters, as I am always seeking out flawed individuals to whom I can relate. Characters with no issues are boring. No one wants to read a book where the first line is "There once was a girl with no problems". Oh, wait, isn't that a Jane Austen book?
Yes, I remember now..."Emma Woodhouse, handsome, clever, and rich, with a comfortable home and happy disposition, seemed to unite some of the best blessings of existence; and had lived nearly twenty-one years in the world with very little to distress or vex her. " This is why Jane Austen novels do not appeal to me.
Back to Bella. Bella, as a character, is entirely unappealing. I don't find her interesting in the way most flawed people are, as her issues are not at all out of her control. She could choose to see the glass half-full or to be less clingy. She could choose to think about people other than herself, and yet she doesn't. I realize that many, many girls identify with her. And to those girls I say this: you don't have to be like that! Just because one annoying, childish girl got the man of her dreams in one fictional series, does not mean you should see this as a rule. It is not a rule. From my limited experience with men, I can say that high-maintainence is not appealing. Neither is whining. Nor is "I would die without you".
In closing, the movie was amusing. I highly reccommend it, especially if seen with one's most cynical friends in a theatre full of screaming schoolgirls.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Reader's Corner
I did not go to my favorite used bookstore today, but if I had gone, this is how I imagine my day would have been:
As I approach the used bookstore, my eyes rest on many shelves outside its doors, full to bursting with books. It’s as if the store was so full inside that its doors swung open and the excess books flowed out like a flood. I push open the creaky wooden door and am at once transported from the bright, loud afternoon into a dimly lit, quiet, calm haven.
The store smells like history. I turn instinctively to my right and slowly move down a long aisle lined with horror novels. First the Stephen King books, H.P. Lovecraft, then Dean Koontz (or Arkoontz, or R. Koontz, I’m never quite certain). The aisle darkens as I reach the end. A sharp, tight turn to my left and a wider, brighter aisle opens up. This is one of the three main hallways of the store. It leads me to the art books. I perch in a dusty art-deco style egg chair, the only seat available. I’m sure it was purchased for $3 at a yard sale some twenty years ago. I crack open a heavy book that had been sitting on top of a stack on the floor.
The rest of my afternoon is spent with M.C. Escher, Georgia O’Keefe, and Vincent Van Gogh. I am absorbed by images of places I will never go and people I will never meet. Colors jump off the pages and subjects seem to speak directly to me.
Several hours later, I pull myself out of the egg chair and place the books back on the floor. I walk down the center aisle of the store, passing the checkout counter without buying anything, but feeling no guilt. Behind the counter sits a young man with blue hair and too many piercings. He gives me a smile and a nod as I pass bins of records. I open the wooden door and step out of my haven and into a world full of noise and devoid of art.
The Saga Commences
Reasons for the existence of this blog:
-Peer pressure
-Peer pressure
-A need for attention
-Boredom
-Too much to say and nowhere to say it
-An overinflated sense of self worth
And now for the actual writing.
Human beings are strange creatures. It seems as if we spend our whole lives wanting to feel something. Anything. Love is pain. And yet, we yearn for it like nothing else. We want nothing more than the approval of people who are only looking for approval themselves.
Today, my house was engulfed in the vomit of several million reindeer. There is glitter partout, and I fear I shall never be able to remove the tinsel from the mantelpiece. A multicolored, glowing plastic imitation tree stands proudly in the corner, laden with garish bits of memories. At first glance, it is covered in random crap. At second glance, it is still covered in random crap. And yet, everything that adorns its synthetics boughs holds a meaning. Each piece represents a time and a place. Not all of the memories are happy-- many of them are sad. But they're sad in that nostalgic way that's almost happy. That "I remember those days! I'm so glad we're where we are now and not where we were then...but I remember those days," way.
My friend worries about me. He knows I am nursing a broken heart, and thus has decided to make me cookies. I don't know if one can mail baked goods, but I wish him luck in this delicious endeavor. Speaking of mail! I received my acceptance to Pitt yesterday. My father will be heartbroken. If he had it his way, I would have applied to UNC and no other school, as it is obviously the only university on the planet. For a brilliant scientist, he can be frightfully dense. Speaking of dense rationalists... How is it that the smartest people are also the dumbest? Those who seem to know everything often turn out to know nothing at all. "Social intelligence," my roommate from this summer would say. "Some have it, some don't."
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