tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-369781282024-02-08T11:43:02.242-05:00My Own Modern Lifethe random everyday chaos experienced by a young person in the twenty-first centuryDeserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.comBlogger73125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-13205534610065777702009-10-06T17:27:00.002-04:002009-10-06T17:30:46.615-04:00for the win<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:trackmoves/> <w:trackformatting/> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:donotpromoteqf/> <w:lidthemeother>EN-US</w:LidThemeOther> <w:lidthemeasian>X-NONE</w:LidThemeAsian> <w:lidthemecomplexscript>X-NONE</w:LidThemeComplexScript> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> 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mso-hansi-theme-font:minor-latin;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Have I mentioned yet how much I love being in UNCA? If I have, I don’t think I’ve said it enough. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">If it’s not the beautiful campus, the awesome professors, the beautiful downtown, or all the little perks that come with being a UNCA student like free bus passes, it’s the lifestyle in general. And the people. I swear, this place was <i style="">made</i> for people like me. I just can’t get over how perfect this place is.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">I was content with life before this, but getting increasingly fed up with having been in the same damn place and doing the same damn thing, dealing with the same damn assholes. I’m the type of person who gets bored of routine. Humans are creatures of habit and I’m no different, but I thrive on novelty and change. In Gastonia there wasn’t much of that. I was starting to feel like I was going to go stale.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Once I settled in here and realized “oh snap, I can do whatever the hell I want to!”, you can’t imagine how thrilling it was. Being a person who runs on spontaneity, I get a kick out of being able to decide at eleven o’clock at night that I want a midnight snack from the Highsmith and mosey over to the Highsmith, get me a snack, and mosey on back to Founders with a stop in front of the hall just to soak in the nighttime early autumn atmosphere. Or to sit outside in the rain just for the helluvit. Or take up residence in the study room for several hours because I want some solitude. Or to say “sure!” when Steven walks up and says “Hey Ann, got a few hours to kill? Wanna come downtown with me?” and just tell Sarah I’ll be gone for a while, collect my stuff, and head on out.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Of course, I’m trying not to let that freedom go to my head. So far it seems to be working fairly well. At first I stayed mostly in the room and didn’t venture out unless I had class, but that quickly got boring. Then I started chumming up with people, and chumming up with people usually means being drug around by those people. That was how I developed my newest hobby: pool. I’m so glad my people-skills have improved since middle school or I’d be such a hermit and rather miserable and bored. It’s allowed me to realize that I don’t actually mind being around people, and I actually enjoy it as long as the people aren’t jackasses. For me that’s quite a revelation.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">So far I’ve established another part of my weekly routine: on Monday, Wednesday and Friday, I pay the Health and Fitness Center a visit for about an hour. On MW it’s something of a dance to fit it into my schedule between soc and math, but this past week it’s worked. At this point all I do it run on the ellip and treadmill, but this is as much therapeutic let-my-mind-wander-while-i-exercise as it is trying to get into better shape. Which is the second reason I started doing this. Because honestly, I am rather out of shape, especially since I stopped taking riding lessons.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">But yeah. I do so love it here. I can’t get over it. It’s just so awesome. =D</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;">And if you noticed the sudden capitalization, it’s because I typed this in Word before putting it on Blogger. I was in the study room when I typed it and there’s no intarwebz in there.<span style=""> that rant over with...<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">i'm rather ashamed at myself for waiting this long to report about the Journey concert. actually, what i have to say about that event can be boiled down to just one word: EPIC<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">Night Ranger opened, and i have to say that they impressed me. at first i'd been neutral about them, knowing that they probably wouldn't be horrible if they were opening for Journey, but i was more concerned about the headliner, naturally. but when Night Ranger came onto the stage, after the second or third song i found myself just as enthusiastic as any of the more diehard Night Ranger fans. they're an old-ish band, from the '80s, but since when have i ever had a problem with older bands? XP<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">but then came Journey. and it was epic. =D it was interesting to see them all on stage, from the 6o-year-old bassist Ross Valory to their new lead vocalist Arnel Pineda, who does <i>not</i> look like he's 42. o_O i swear to God i thought he was in his thirties when i saw him on stage. he sounds <i>soooo</i> much like Steve Perry~ and i wondered as i was watching how the man got his energy. he was bouncing around all over creation, i kid you not.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">and yes, i did cry. when they played Open Arms, i cried. and i'll admit it. you can't not be moved by that song. listening to it on my iTunes is one thing, but being there and hearing it live is something wholly else, and if you <i>don't</i> choke up during a song like that, there's a problem.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">by two songs into Night Ranger's hour-long performance, my hearing was blunted. >_> Night Ranger played from 7:30 until 8:30, then we got a half-hour break before Journey came out. then they played for two hours, so by the time Dave and i got out of the colosseum parking lot (which was inhabited by a large number of people in various states of inebriation) and got to a place where we could be picked up, it was eleven-thirty or so. Then Patrick and Patrick picked us up and we spent a few hours chilling with them at Greensboro College before going back to the hotel and crashing on the fold-out couchbed thing. why in the name of God we had to get up at 6:30 in the damn morning i dunno, but after breakfast at Waffle House with the two Patricks, both of us promptly crashed again in the car on the way back. and then when i got to the apartment i crashed again. XP it was a weekend for crashing, but that's a concert weekend for you.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">anyhow. back to life at UNCA. i have recently learned how to use the bus system -- did i mention that UNCA students, if we show our OneCard, get free rides on the buses? -- and so can now get around in Asheville proper whenever. i've made a mental note that, one day when i have nothing better to do, to dedicate an afternoon or something to just getting on a few different bus routes and watch. this area is beautiful, and the bus routes sometimes take you out into the beautimous countryside. i've always liked road-trips, and since i can ride free, hell, why not? it's a little chaotic getting the schedule and routes straight so you can get where you want to be, but once you get the hang of it, it's a good way to get around and spares the hassle of walking. without the bus system grocery shopping would be miserable.<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">last week, Steven drug me out of the room and we went on a little adventure downtown to the mall. it was quite fun -- i located the Barnes & Nobles and Hot Topic, both of which are admittedly about the same level of sad as the ones in Gastonia. but oh well. and Steven introduced me to this <i>amazing</i> little hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant not far from campus. the food there is MOUTHGASMIC OHMAGAAAAHD, and decently priced too. definitely going there again. =D<o:p></o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style=""><o:p> </o:p></span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="">so anyway. enough of my rambling, i need to study for that midterm tomorrow. -sigh-</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; font-family: trebuchet ms;"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><o:p></o:p></span></p>Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-11093842887456390452009-09-11T11:24:00.002-04:002009-09-11T12:35:48.902-04:00whoopswell damn, i haven't posted here in over two months. >_O it's not like very many people read it, since everybody who does is also on FB, but still.<br /><br />updates since early July. the main thing, obviously, is that i've started at UNCA. it's the fourth week in. so far i've settled into a routine: my alarm goes off an hour and a half before class is due to start (8:30 on MWF and 8:00 of TR) so i have time to take my shower and get ready. then i go to the caf. for breakfast. their eggs are fairly decent, i must say, and the sausage when they serve it. on alternating days they serve bacon that drips with grease. with a glass of apple juice, because breakfast is the meal of the day when i eat more healthily, i'm set. that usually gives me roundabouts half an hour once i finish eating to sit up a tree in the Quad and people-watch before i go to class.<br /><br />i like the tree-sitting. on pretty days i get my music and a book and climb up in that same tree and can spend all afternoon between classes just chilling out. it gets me out of the room, at least. i'm trying not to be too much of a hermit.<br /><br />anyway, class. my schedule goes thus:<br />Monday: Chem 132, 10:00; Sociology, 11:25; Math 179, 2:45<br />Tuesday: Bio 115 lecture, 9:25; Bio 115 lab, 1:45<br />Wednesday: Chem 132, 10:00; Sociology, 11:25; Math 179, 2:45<br />Thursday: Bio 115 lecture, 9:25; Chem 111, 1:45<br />Friday: Chem 132, 10:00; Math 179, 2:45<br /><br />so far, my favorite class has to be the math. hands down. simply because a) the prof is amazing, b) it's a FLLIP which means we're doing interesting/different extracurricular things, and c) i may not be much of a math person, but the nerd in me goes into geekgasms about some of the topics we cover. it's all about Phi (aka the Divine Proportion, or whatever you want to call it) and thus far in the book, just learning about the backstory behind Phi and the people who discovered/had a lot to do with it, it's damn cool. i am easily amused.<br /><br />but back to the amazing professor part. i've mentioned this before through various means on FB, but prof. Ed could identify every student in the class (granted there are only ten or fifteen people in it) by name and face, by move-in weekend. i kid you not. he called us all out by name and pointed to us when there was a FLLIP meeting the Friday we arrived.<br /><br />by the way, FLLIP is a new program just enacted this semester that works with the freshman LSIC courses and integrates some things into the curriculum that gets us out and involved. that's the gist, so people don't get confused when i keep mentioning it. back to the story though.<br /><br />just last night was another time when my personal estimation of prof. Ed jumped up from its already very impressive standpoint. he had all of us over at his house for dinner. a couple of people helped cart all fifteen of us to his place, and we spent the next two and a half hours hanging out in his house. (by the way, i want his house. it's old and tiny and cozy and i wanted to steal it from him.) the first batch of six who arrived -- myself included -- helped pick basil and oregano from the stalks he'd taken fresh out of his garden to make some pesto. by the time everybody else got there and we'd all settled in and gotten relaxed, the pesto was made, and the meal began.<br /><br />it was, in professor's words, a Some Assembly Required meal. three types of pasta-noodle-things, and a small army of things to go on it like mushrooms, onions, grilled chicken, and other such goodness. and the pesto, or typical spagetti cause if you preferred. or both. these were all separate so you could pick and choose, like a pasta bar. and it was all delicious. i mentioned to Lauren and the rest of the table that i wished there were doggie-bags on hand so i could bring a plate back to dorm. afters were sugar cookies that we could cut out ourselves with his collection of different-shaped cookie-cutters and decorate with M&Ms, sprinkles, and such.<br /><br />probably around 9:45 or 10 or so, Ryan, the boss-overseer-person(i dunno his official title) of Founders Residence Hall, showed up. at the time, i was in a conversation with Keith and Steven over where the drinking age should be. Ryan got in on the conversation, which then turned into a half-speech thing that the whole room quieted down to listen to, the gist of which was that he'd rather we learn about booze while we're still under our parents' roof than his, and that we're adults now so we can do what we want and have fun as long as we don't make idiots of ourselves. then prof. Ed quipped, "Great! Now I need a drink." and everyone burst into laughter.<br /><br />Steven nearly left his backpack. lucky for him someone noticed it. anyway, once we got on the way back, with most of us crammed into a bus driven by Ryan (hence why he'd showed up in the first place), the topic continued between Keith and Steven in the seats behind me. somehow it drifted toward the health care system, with Steven rather adamantly of the opinion that people should pay for their own damn health care. Ryan apparently heard the debate and put his own two cents in, and the rest of the ride was taken up by that other topic of discussion. i just listened to this part of it, since my say had been said for the night. i was a bit preoccupied reveling in the intelligent, logical debate rather than the sometimes heated arguments that had cropped up frequently in Huss whenever opposing viewpoints were aired. again, i am easy to please.<br /><br />anyway. back to describing my classes, which was the original topic of this blog until i went off on a tangent. >_> my second favorite class is chem; at this juncture, i'm favoring the lecture more than the lab, simply because Schmeltzer is fun and awesome and the 111 lab requires a lot of standing around with annoying goggles over my face for three solid hours.<br /><br />i say Schmeltzer is awesome for a few reasons. one: his teaching style. i wish my high school teachers had been this awesome -- Noblitt was but that's about all i can say -- it would've made Huss more bearable. prof. Schmeltzer cusses a lot. it's highly amusing. his style is just really casual and colloquial, which is a nice change. he's also cool in that he's quite accomodating, which is a relief for me. the day of the Journey concert, September 18th, is the day we take our first exam in chem 132. i'll have to be off-campus close to noon or one, and the exam is from 4:10 to 6:10. so when i approached Schmeltzer about this, he offered to let me take the exam a day early -- a few girls in the class are on the soccer team and will be gone that Friday as well, so ta-da! i can just take it with them! i was flabbergasted at the convenient coincidence.<br /><br />anyway. in the scale of classes, the two labs come next. they're fun and interesting, though i get irked by the goggles we have to wear in chem 111. (the general chem lab has a different number than the lecture -- 111 to 132 -- but for bio, the co-requisite lab has the same number as the lecture. i dunno why.) we haven't done much in the bio lab -- we've only had two so far. chemistry was the only department with a lab the first week of classes, and for some reason Dr. Hale decided to give us an extra break and have no lab the Tuesday after Labor Day weekend.<br /><br />soc is my least favorite class, for several reasons. main one: i took soc last year, and it has become clear that the general-level courses freshmen take are basically just high school courses all over again. so i already know most everything the prof is teaching us, and anyone who knows me knows that being re-taught something that i don't find very interesting is a form of torture to me. chem 132 is high school chem all over again, but i don't get bored because it's interesting. soc not so much. the other reason is that Dr. Lee is Korean, and as such has a very thick accent. he speaks English fluently, but i still have a hard time understanding more than one out of every three words he says. this is a bad combination. not to mention that the book is as thick and dense as the US History book Noblitt had us read. how in God's name someone managed to make a sociology book as tedious and irksome to read as <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> sin against literature i have no clue.<br /><br />well. classes aside, life is decent on the whole. i still adore this place as much as i did when i first set foot on campus -- in fact, i love it even more. this place suits my temperament and preferences perfectly. there are inevitable drawbacks to college life, but outside of those i'm way to happy here to let little trivialities dampen my enjoyment of life. =D<br /><br />but i do need to gripe a bit. my roomie Sarah and i get along well -- so far no problems or complaints, we're both easygoing and with similar enough ways that it's all cool there. the suitemates are a slightly different story. it's nothing major, but they have little tendencies that are a little annoying. they have a habit of leaving the light in the bathroom on when they're not there; not only is it a waste of electricity, but it makes us think someone's in there when it's empty. and their music can sometimes get kinda loud. mostly Sarah and i are listening to our own music so it's not too big of a bother, but it's still a little irksome.<br /><br />that seems to be the end of my ramble. i still need to do one more prof. Ed assignment before class starts in a couple of hours. so i shall bugger off and do my homework.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-61223692268205175302009-07-03T02:21:00.003-04:002009-07-03T03:23:58.591-04:00mreepfor those who haven't heard, though i think pretty much everyone who reads my blog is also on Facebook and has thus already heard it, but the DunnWaffle is AMAZING~! chocolate pie plus warm waffle goodness equals MOUTHGASM. earlier tonight Justin and Dave and i experimented with mixing about half a DunnWaffle, about a cup of coffee and an indeterminate amount of milk with which to counteract the sugar -- and some ice to make it more smoothie-like -- and it was if possible even more amazing. i think Justin is calling it the Mocha-Waffle-Frappe, or some variation thereof. we all three supped the results of the first experiment with it, and i know right now i'm not gonna be getting to sleep anytime soon. =D<br /><br />tomorrow (officially, since it's about 2:30-3:00 am on Friday) is my birthday. i've been anticipating this birthday more than i have the last few -- possibly because i've been to damn BORED that anything to look forward to is welcome. e_e or possibly because it's my 18th. legal adult and all that. either way, yeah.<br /><br />lately i've discovered some awesome bands to broaden my musical tastes. Coheed and Cambria, namely -- they are awesome. Dave and RB had gotten me into A7X and Disturbed, along with some All That Remains. not to mention Papa Roach or Sixx: A.M. Shinedown as well. in general, good bands.<br /><br />Journey concert in September. good up-front seats roughly $75/$85. score~! gonna buy tickets as soon as i get a paycheck to supplement the portion of grad money i'm letting myself spend. and no matter if i have to skip one day of LSIC math, i'm going to that concert! it's Journey, for crying out loud!<br /><br />yeppers. classes coming up in August include Bio, Bio lab, Chem, Chem lab, Soc, and a math that they signed me up for.<br /><br />... song that showed up on my playlist just now: Little Piece of Heaven by A7X. it's a song about necrophilia. so creepy, but i admit that i do like the song a lot. the tune's amazing. and it's such an Avenged Sevenfold-esque subject for a song, but somehow they pull it off without the song being freakishly disturbing. the video, as seems to be typical for A7X, leaves a bit to be desired. but i won't let the dumb videos affect my enjoyment of the songs.<br /><br />anyhow. where was i before the necrophilia song distracted me? right. i'm REALLY excited to be going to UNCA~ hOMG it's gonna be so fun. i think the freedom will go to my head until i settle into the new routines. my class load and the on-campus job i hope to get will hwlp keep me occupied, 'cause everyone knows by now that a bored Ann is a lazy Ann and that is not a good thing. e_e;<br /><br />OH MAH GAWD my room is clean. it hasn't been this clean in... seven, eight years? six and a half bags of trash and nine bags for Goodwill later, my room is so clean that it feels like a different room altogether. it took three days, but i'd expected it to take longer. ^_^;; but hey, it works.<br /><br />and i has a lappy~~! =DDD <33333333 unfortunately, it has Vista, but even though Vista is stupid, XP is kinda outdated by now, and i have hated Macs since we had one despite Dad adoring the stupid thing, so yeah. e_e so Vista is the lesser of the evils in my personal opinion. it's got Microsoft Offive 2007, which to someone used to 2003 is CONFUSING but i'll get over it, since everyone else in the world rides the tide of "OOH look it's new and shiny, let's get it!" -rolls eyes- i'm all for the improving and changing, but just because something is new and looks cool doesn't necessarily mean it's better.<br /><br />take the iPhone for example, if you'll bear with me going off on a tangent. everyone thinks they're so snazzy and awesome, but if you have one and you lose it, well shit, there went your whole life, dumbass! e_e you've not just lost your phone, but your iPod and all the apps that you've come to rely on being on hand, gone! tough luck!<br /><br />honestly now. when i say cell phone, i don't mean a combination phone/camera/computer/iPod/whatever else you put on it. cellphones make calls and send text messages. if i want a hand-held music thing, i'll use my CD player or mp3 player. if i want a computer, i'll get my laptop. if i want to take a picture or record, i'll get a camera. that way, if i lose one of them, i don't lose the rest at the same time! seems fairly logical to me~<br /><br />anyway. there's my rant for the wee morning hours fueled by a mixture of chocolate pie and coffee and YUM. -takes a deep breath and moves on-<br /><br />like five famous people have died within the past few weeks, and i'm just waiting for the sixth. it made me sad that a musical genius like Michael Jackson died, though he was creeping me out with the looking like a white woman. o_o;; but really, people, get over it! i understand wanting to remember him for all he's contributed to society, but there's no use flogging a dead horse(no pun intended)!<br /><br />buut yeah. the sun will be up in a couple of hours, so i'll quit while i'm behind and shut up.<br /><br />BUT on a quick side note, people on YouTube are funny idiots. every time you get a vid on a band like A7X or Disturbed or something like that, most of the comments are people bashing one another or the song. they're hysterical! i just saw one paragraph just criticizing someone for a few typos and called it bad grammar. i couldn't resist pointing out to that person in a reply comment that their saying "alright" was improper English. XP i wonder what it'll look like tomorrow or in two days.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-90379717449533240732009-06-08T12:56:00.002-04:002009-06-08T13:11:33.442-04:00woahyes, i did change my blog's skin. sexy, isn't it?<br /><br />anyhow, down to business. this morning was the fourth period exam, and this exam was the only one that i wasn't exempt from/hadn't taken early. today was my last day as an enrolled student at Hunter Huss. graduation is in five days, roughly; then i will be done forever with high school.<br /><br />i dunno whether to be nostalgic or overjoyed. at the moment, i'm a mix of both. as i strolled the halls of the school to say my final good-byes to beloved teachers, i was close to tears. i have had both good times and bad since ninth grade; overall, as i look back, i can say with confidence that in all they were four years well spent. i've grown a lot since entering Huss; in knowledge and in valuable life experience.<br /><br />i just want to say, to everyone who has been a part of my life these past four years: thank you. thank your for the laughter, for the tears, for every moment that will linger in my memory. even if the names and faces fade, i will still remember what you have done. i won't start naming people, because i know i'll never be able to list everyone who has contributed in some way to my development since that August in 2005 when i first walked through Huss' front doors.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-style: italic;">just open your eyes</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">just open your eyes and see that life is beautiful</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">will you swear on your life</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">that no one will cry at my funeral</span><br /></div><br />that's a good way to sum up my current outlook on life. listen to the rest of the song to get the proper idea of the mood. perhaps it's a bit twisted, if you listen to the lyrics, but it's a kind of bitter optimism. i can't say i see the world as a place of rainbows and butterflies where everyone gets along, but the world is full of opportunities, and which ones you take dictate how it turns out. it can be good or bad, depending on your attitude when you start. if you're smiling, then life will be fairly good. if you wear a frown on the way in, then a dark cloud will follow you. so i am determined to plaster a big grin on my face and make the most of it as i segue into this new era of my life.<br /><br />more when i finish making sense of what i'm feeling. at the moment, it's too vague to articulate.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-10986946822523520122009-05-03T20:43:00.000-04:002009-05-03T21:01:12.410-04:00Hymn 43Marcus and company may not appreciate the awesomeness of Jethro Tull, but they can't deny that they can't sing worth shit and than i can hand their asses to them on vocals on Rock Band II. i lost count of how many times me and Dave (and Kelsey when she had the drums) had to save their sorry asses when they had the mic. hearing Marcus try to sing Journey made my soul bleed.<br /><br />while i was singing Hymn 43, i could barely hear myself for his derogatory comments. still, i hit 83% of the notes. an 83 is good no matter what, but i was on bloody expert mode. EXPERT MODE, BITCHES. the other three (playing guitar, bass and drums) got scores in the 90s, but none of them were on expert mode. -preens- i'd like to see any of THEM try to sing Ian Anderson on expert mode and last more than ten seconds.<br /><br />-chuckles- i defended my title of bass guitar Jesus last night. Marcus and Dalton are such pathetic singers. some songs, they died at least twice and i had to rez them. even Dave, who can take most every song on Rock Band on expert, was murdered by some of the solos. -cracks knuckles- and i played medium on most of the songs. granted, bass is easier than lead guitar, but i'm not nearly as adept on those guitar controllers as i am singing. and i'm far from a good singer when my voice box decides it's had enough of A7X, but that's beside the point.<br /><br />the story behind my title, in case anyone is wondering and unfamiliar with Rock Band: when one of the band members misses too many notes and fails, one of the other band members can use some of their star power and resurrect them. at the end of each song, the scores for each band member are displayed, and sometimes you get little comments under them. if one of your bandmates fails and you save them, you can get the comment "Savior" or "Band Savior" under your score. thus, Jesus.<br /><br />anyway, i'm off to get more sleep. staying up playing Rock Band and making late IHOP runs until one in the morning and then getting up at the crack of dawn to go to work is not conducive to good sleeping habits, even after a two-and-a-half-hour nap this afternoon. -yawns- i need to rest my brain up well if i wanna have a chance of passing the IB test Tuesday and the AP test Thursday. TT^TT my poor brain wil be fried by this time next week.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-47293404239241404782009-04-19T21:17:00.000-04:002009-04-19T21:37:32.025-04:00-foamsatmouf-Noblitt is very good at giving me stuff that makes me think. and what i think of makes me very pissed. watching that thing by Naomi Wolf the other day in class (Patrick & Co. remember it, if you'd bothered to pay attention) started it, and reading this chapter in the Cold War book is bringing back that outrage.<br /><br />here's my problem: "Those who would sacrifice their rights for safety deserve neither." i wish i could remember who Noblitt quoted when he said that. that's been in my head for the past three-ish years, because i agree wholeheartedly with it. i won't go into the rant about how much bullshit the Patriot Act and such was, but that was my problem watching the lecture documentary thing in class.<br /><br />reading the Cold War book added another, similar one. when you compromise people's rights in order to defend yourselves from authoritarian governments, you become <span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">NO</span> </span>better than your enemies. i can't emphasize that enough. Machiavelli may have been smart, but for the love of God if you violate the Constitution, we've got some problems. the President is <span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">NOT</span> above the law,<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"> </span></span>gawddamit! -veinthrob-<br /><br />Patrick, i really wish you had paid attention to that movie. this is stuff that happened in your lifetime, and will probably continue to happen. apathy is what has allowed horrible things to happen before, and if you don't learn from history's mistakes, you'll end up shit outta luck and wondering how in the hell your world just got turned upside down.<br /><br />-deep breath- i needed to get that out. i was really pissing me off. now i'll finish reading my homework.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-78876115098310320522009-04-13T16:06:00.000-04:002009-04-13T17:19:15.524-04:00mrownot too incredibly much to report since my last post. i'm sure there's been enough to fill up a few paragraphs, but since i haven't gotten around to (forgotten to) post i've mostly forgotten the stuff i planned on posting. ain't ADD grand?<br /><br />anyhow. there is one thing i remember in sufficient detail: the ordeal of the IB Internal Assessment. Ma, Patrick and co. have already gotten an earful of that, but i'll repeat it for the sake of complaining.<br />one thing is certain: NONE of the other people in the 20th Century class have ANY right to grouch about doing theirs. if they do i might start ripping throats out. -eyetwitch-<br /><br />okay, here's what happened: about two weeks before the end of March, Noblitt told me that of the people who are taking the IB history test this May (i'm the only one taking the class this semester who's also sighed up for the test) six of the Assessments from those people are going to be sent in and actually graded by the IB folks. the history ones are headed to Ghana.<br />here's the fun part: they were supposed to be ready to send out on April 1st. Noblitt told me that morning that he'd just found out, so he couldn't have let me know sooner.<br />at that point, i was very frustrated. it was all well and good for the ones who took the class first semester, 'cause theirs were done already. but <span style="font-style: italic;">this</span> semester hadn't been in but for three months. since it's<span style="font-style: italic;"> IB</span> (keyword being <span style="font-style: italic;">international</span>) it might have been that they didn't factor in the fact that there was a new batch of kids taking the class who'd barely started working on it, since a lot of other countries have a much more logical way to run their schools, but that seems like a stretch. and if they <span style="font-style: italic;">were</span> aware of the semester change, would they really have just assumed that the teachers would make all of us taking the test do this project whether we had the class then or not? it makes no sense.<br />the kicker for me was that Noblitt had set the due-date for the first two sections of the Assessment for April 2nd.<br />so i basically had two weeks to do most of this Assessment. and this Assessment isn't like the research essays we're used to, either. i wish it had been, it would've been much easier to get done on time. but nope! the point of this was to pick an event in history, take a certain viewpoint, and pick it to bit. the parts went so: introduction, a basic overview of the event, doing an OPVL on two sources, analyzing the event from your viewpoint, conclusion, and bibliography. no less than 1500 words, no more than 2000. in two weeks. Noblitt had said before that we'd need to look outside our usual places to find sources -- the detail we'd go into, we'd need a more extensive collection of info than the Huss or Gaston library, and something more reliable than the crap on the intarwebs.<br />so the 28th, i took a roadtrip to UNCC. that trip was a saga in and of itself that i'll get to. but it took the rest of Saturday and Sunday to make sure i had my resources and research in the right place, and Monday and Tuesday to write it. i managed to turn it in to Noblitt on the first like a good little bean. i got word week before last that mine was one of the six being sent to Ghana -- joy.<br />like i said before, after i had to do pretty much the while damn thing and turn it in when the first half was due for them, no one else in that class has room to complain about the deadline. at all.<br /><br />and now, to my adventure at UNCC. it was pretty much my first time driving on the interstate after that rather nervous few passes when i was still in driver's ed, so there was that. needless to say i didn't leave the house without taking my pill.<br />i chose to go on Saturday for several reasons: on weekends, parking is free in UNCC. also, Saturday morning is one of the less busy times when driving on I-85. so the drive up wasn't especially bad, except for the few times when people decided to play musical-lanes right in front of me.<br />it took me a minute of wandering and a phone call to find a parking deck in UNCC. it took me about half an hour of wandering in the drizzle to realize i wasn't getting anywhere, so i found a map of the campus, which is what i should've done in the first place. after consulting the map, i found a new parking deck and scampered across to the Atkins library.<br />i had never been in ten stories of books before. it was amazing. i decided, as i was hanging out in the UNCC library and doing my research, that when i got to UNCA i might live in the library there.<br />i needed to make copies of the books i'd found. i went up to a copier, but it needed a card of some sort. this frustrated me for a minute or three, until i asked a desk and the chick pointed out a rather brightly-colored machine on the far wall that would give me a card to use if i gave it money. so i gave it a $5 bill and it gave me a card, out of which i could get over fifty copies. so i copied the snot out of the two books.<br />in the process of doing this, i ended up helping out a guy who came over to the copy/printer and asked me how to work it. i asked him what he was trying to do, and he said he had something on the computer he needed to copy. copy onto paper, i asked? he said yes. so i pointed to the laminated paper on the wall next to the copier and helped him figure out how to make the copier print. when he thanked me, i admitted to him that i had never been here before -- he looked flabbergasted. i felt a sort of sympathy for him, because he obviously was unused to technology; i know he drove the library folks to distraction trying to figure out how to work the computer.<br />the drive back from UNCC was a different ordeal from getting there. it was mid-afternoon, so traffic had picked up again. in and of itself, that wasn't so bad. but it had started drizzling shortly after i got to Charlotte, so i had to drive back in the downpour. not cool. if it had been raining any harder, i would've pulled over and either waited it out or called Mom and Mike to rescue me. on top of that, as is usual for the people in this area, they completely went nuts. the drove even more idiotically than normal, in the rain, with the cars packed more tightly in some places than was really necessary.<br />under normal circumstances, it bothers me when people play musical-lanes and merge across several lanes all in one swoop and apparently without looking. usually, when they do this, they come far closer to the cars in front of them, behind them, or both, than is good for my nerves. but when they do it in the rain, it's downright scary. i really don't know what possesses these people to ride each other's asses going sixty-five or seventy miles an hour. it's a pile-up waiting to happen. and i especially don't like it when an eighteen-wheeler is involved. and why in the wide world of sports they disregard the rain and the effects it could have on their wheels and brakes is totally beyond me. i managed to keep my head through this whole mess and sighed in intense relief when i turned onto New Hope, where the speeds were sane again. and, after this, i can at least say that i have driven on I-85 in the rain and come out alive, which is more than far too many people can claim.<br /><br />that seems to be all, i think, besides the fact that the more i visit UNCA the more i love it. i'll blog about the admitted student day this past Friday. eventually.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-74251688341890663232009-03-16T15:19:00.000-04:002009-03-16T15:45:14.044-04:00-veinthrob-disclaimer: i will cuss a lot now. because i am angry.<br /><br />i am a very pissed midget, as you can tell. the explanation for those of you who weren't there:<br /><br />i divide up the people who take japanese I into two groups. the minority take it because they want to learn japanese. the majority take it because it's a crap-class (my term for a class they take just to fill up a slot in their schedules). people in the latter classification never give a shit about the class, so they are always the most disruptive and disrespectful and downright irritating. my problem was with one of the people in this group.<br /><br />of the idiot brigade this semester, this guy is one of the noisiest. he's been on my nerves since the first day. he never shuts up. he badmouths sensei (under his breath, which is why sensei hasn't caught him yet) and is generally an ass all period long. today was no different.<br /><br />he and his fellow buttfaces were kicking up a racket as usual. sensei was yelling "shizukani! shizukani!" at them, but of course they didn't really know what she was trying to say so they didn't listen. i heard one of them ask (loudly) "what's that mean?" it came from behind me so i assumed it was the particular asshole aforementioned, since he'd been relocated to the corner of the room by sensei.<br /><br />by now, i'd had it up to here with them. i'd had enough of it. so i turned around and told the guy that it means shut the hell up. of course, the self-absorbed ass had to turn it into an argument, and he demanded why i was talking to him like that. i replied that i'm talking to him like that because he won't shut the hell up. the ijjit started muttering indignantly, but by then my short burst of temper had faded enough for me to regain control of my tongue, so i ground my teeth and didn't respond.<br /><br />sensei pushed the button, and asked for an administrator to come down and talk to some of her students who were arguing. hearing the plural just made my temper worse. i'd said nothing but the truth, why get me in trouble? i could understand her reasoning for involving both squabblers, but it still didn't help how irritated i was. so a minute or two later, Suratt (can't spell his name for the life of me) pokes his head in, and sensei calls me and assbreath up there to have a word with Suratt.<br /><br />i admitted that it was wrong of me to have lost my temper like that, but i lost it for good reason, because buttface and his cronies won't shut up. Suratt asked assbreath why he wouldn't be quiet after sensei kept telling him, which only elicited some half-intelligible mutters. Suratt left after warning us to not raise our voices, and the last twenty minutes of class went by pretty much as normal.<br /><br />okay. i know why sensei got me involved too, but what was my fault besides giving that asshole a taste of his own medicine? he's been nothing but disrespectful since the beginning, it's about time he got bitched at back. it's his problem if he is too childish to leave it at that. true, i didn't necessarily have to yell, but that's the only thing ijjits like that really listen to. he more than deserved to get someone giving as much snark as they get. sensei has told him to sit outside once before, and i really hope (though i doubt) that she'll do anything worse to the ass. he was the one at fault, i was only speaking the truth. not my fault he got his inflated ego hurt.<br /><br />i don't regret snapping like that. it didn't make me feel even a little bit better, not on any level, but i don't wish i hadn't said what i did. i won't say i'd do it again, because i'd get ISS and i don't intend on explaining three days of ISS to the admissions folks at UNCA.<br /><br />you peeps who know me know that i'm not at all the type to lose my temper. or if i do, i usually keep it to myself. that little outburst did nothing to alleviate my irritation -- being called out made it worse if anything. but i'm sorry, when people are being goddamned assholes, there's only so many times i can sit there and keep my mouth shut. as tolerant as i am, even i have a threshold.<br /><br />so. i'm going to do something mindless for the rest of the day to readjust my attitude.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-40727089832528171142009-02-18T15:43:00.000-05:002009-02-18T16:05:44.803-05:00=D-does a victory dance- no more braces! no more brackets! WHEE~!<br /><br />i FINALLY had those eight brackets taken off my lower front teeth today! squee! but to keep my teeth in place, they cemented a little chain-looking wire thing to the backs of those eight teeth. it feels so weird! my tongue won't leave it alone! it's this little smooth bulge behind the teeth, i keep thinking i have something stuck to them until i remember it won't come off. maybe my tongue's distraction with the permanent retainer is what's keeping it from spazzing too much about the lack of brackets. either way, i'm gonna be messing with it for a few days until my mouf gets a grip.<br /><br />i got out about fifteen minuted into 2nd period, which was good. 2nd is art, and Cronin wasn't here today, so were watching a movie. the same movie most of us have seen at least once, probably two or three times for some of the art III/IV folks. the whole kit 'n' caboodle took around forty-five minutes, so i got out of there around 11:15, 11:20.<br /><br />now, my 3rd period is on C-hall, which means i have first lunch. first lunch starts as soon as you get out of 2nd and goes for about half an hour -- it's scheduled to end around 11:50. so i realized i could get food! mostly real fast-food and not the questionable school food! gasp! so we stopped by Mickey D's and i got fries and a soda. om nom nom.<br /><br />the only problem was, right when we pulled up and i opened the car door, i heard the bell for 2nd lunch. BAH. still, i wasn't about to toss out my fries and Coke; even though i don't particularly remember Mrs. Chaney objecting too strenuously to a few of the people nibbling in class, i still think it's pretty rude to be chomping away while the teacher's trying to teach. i was already gonna be a bit late anyway, waiting for the ijjit in front of me at the control room to shut up, so while i stood around to check back in, i figured, "ah, screw it." so once i was officially back in school, i took my noms into the cafeteria. one of my chums Amanda has 2nd lunch, i found out just today, so i sat with her for ten or so minutes while i munched on my fries.<br /><br />the awesome thing about my 3rd period: it's a Huskins class. the teacher, therefore, often has a more lenient policy about attendence and such than a normal high school teacher. Mrs. Chaney told us the first day or two of the semester that she quote: "didn't care why we're late or absent," unquote. because of that, i wasn't unduly bothered coming into class fifteen minutes late. i'd remembered that we had a quiz today first thing, but i also knew that her quizzes were fairly easy and it wouldn't take me any time at all to finish. i was right -- even though i showed up late, i wasn't even the last person to turn a quiz in. (the teacher usually gives us a few minutes for last-minute studying before giving us quizzes) so it was all good.<br /><br />that's pretty much all my news for now. this cough is slowly but surely fading, which is good. i got Miranda to take my shift last week so i didn't have to tromp around at the barn with this chest cold thing, and this week we're trading shifts since i'm feeling better and she has a sports-related thing that takes up Saturday afternoons. so yeah, i think that's it. peace.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-18586951832836212512009-02-11T08:19:00.000-05:002009-02-11T08:44:32.770-05:00-coffhack-bad week so far.<br /><br />Friday night was awesome. i'm not much of a partier, but every now and then i just need to screw around until three in the morning playing mindless video games and visiting IHOP at the wee hours of the morning. we need to get Kelsie back, peeps. she was cool. DOCTOR OCTOGONOPUS BWAAH!!<br /><br />i wasn't sure how to set the alarm clock on the blackjack, so it didn't go off Sunday morning when i needed to get up for work. i woke up at 7:10; that was a major OH SHIT moment. i dunno if Dad was awake, but if he was he'd have heard my profane growl to the tune of "oh fuckitall!"<br /><br />so i rushed to work, getting a call from Alethea halfway there at around 7:30 so i could reassure her that i remembered i was working, i just failed at setting my alarm, please forgive me. she forgave me -- it wasn't like the horses would starve to death if i was forty-five minutes late. so i scrambled into work, glad it was unseasonably warm (for once) since for some as-yet inexplicable reason my throat felt like it was lined with sandpaper.<br /><br />it turned out that the barn's resident dumbass horse Chello was a bit lame on his left front hoof, so on the orders of his mom Carol he was stall-bound. Carol's other horse Dandy was inside as well to keep Chello company, since the big ijjit flips out if he's alone in the barn. i fed those two first (meaning i ended up feeding the other three gelding in 2 at the same time since i didn't want to run the risk of Chello choking on his food AGAIN if Misha was missing from the stall next to him) and proceeded through the day in a slightly braindead blur. good thing the chores i've got in my job require little thinking. at the end i got the <span style="font-style: italic;">lovely</span> job of mucking out Chello's and Dandy's stalls, which were both FULL of crap and piss thanks to their overnight stay. miraculously, when i wrote down my hours and worked it out, i somehow spent about the same time on it that day that i do on a normal morning shift in full possession of my wits and no full stalls to muck.<br /><br />the rest of Sunday i did my level best to imitate a vegetable. i had another of my after-work epic naps, and by the time i sluggishly gathered up my stuff and made it home from the apartment at around seven-ish, i had lost the will to move and the joints in my legs seemed to hate me. i thought the flu -- LOVELY.<br /><br />since Monday this whatever i've got has developed into an annoying dry cough. i think it's just an upper respiratory infection, since the weird aches i had Sunday didn't last the night. Monday and Tuesday nights the meds i took to stifle the coughing made my sleep just as sporadic. instead of draining down my throat to make me cough, the meds diverted the mucous into my nose. i dripped all night, waking up several times in time for epic sneezes that have probably crusted the edge of my bed with slick mess. i'm kinda glad it was too dark for me to see it. as i told Ma on the way to school today: i probably left slug trails all over my bed.<br /><br />both Niquil and a combination of this Tylenol Cold PM stuff and melatonin did the same thing. usually melatonin knocks me out all night, but it didn't seem to be a match for my nasal explosions. both last night and the night before i woke up at around midnight and again at about four am; last night, i didn't get back to sleep, so around 5:30 i gave in and got up to take my shower. predictably, once i had gotten back out and dressed and snuggled back under the covers, i dozed off for another hour and a half or so.<br /><br />so yeah. i'll probably irritate the everliving crap out of my classmates all day today with my constant hacking, like i have for the past few days. i think i gave Heather my ick, she's been sounding a bit hoarse since yesterday. where i got it, we're not sure. i have a sneaking suspicion it came from something Friday night.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-8296265355370683292009-02-03T16:25:00.001-05:002009-02-04T17:39:38.296-05:00mehi'm posting mainly 'cuz i know if i don't now chances are i won't for the rest of the month. but really there's not much to write about, besides new semester crap.<br /><br />my new schedule:<br />20th Century History with Noblitt<br />Art II<br />Huskins Psychology<br />Japanese III<br /><br />20th Century promises to be interesting. a lot of reading and writing, Noblitt said. i'm good at writing. =3 and the mere fact that Noblitt's teaching will make this an entertaining class, at least some of the time.<br /><br />Art was a space-filler, i never expected too much. this first part we're doing is drawing, which is both good and bad. good because i likw drawing, bad because i tend to be a perfectionist and thus take too long, and also bad because some things i can't draw to save my life. next will be sculpting, and i couldn't say whether i'm excited or hesitant about that.<br /><br />Psych so far is a bit boring, since it's a lot of lecturing and we haven't gotten into the overly interesting stuff yet. we will and that's gonna wrawk, 'cuz some of the stuff in just this first six weeks of general psych is fascinating to a geek like me.<br /><br />Japanese... ooh boy. Japanese III student = Japanese II sensei. Hayashi-sensei has three levels of Jap'nese in one classroom. she focuses most of her energy on the Jap'nese I who have no clue what they're doing, and give the II and III worksheets to keep them occupied. since she has three III students and four II students, the III students are charged with helping the II kids.<br />i will say one thing: without Chris Brown and the idiot brigade in there, it's not nearly as bad. Eric and Strepo, two of the guys who always kicked up a racket last semester, are actually not as bad without the influence of Chris and his posse.<br />still, when Kepaato-san is in a misanthropic mood, she makes a bad sensei. even though she remembers a lot of the stuff that Dan-san forgot from his Jap'nese II last year and even the stuff Rongu-san forgot from last semester. granted some of the stuff escapes me, but Patrick still fails at remembering days of the month. -shakes head-<br /><br />by the way. Kepaato-san = me. translating english into katakana and back into romaji makes for a garbled end result. ((romaji = english characters))<br /><br />IN OTHER NEWS. i am now addicted to Breaking Benjamin. thanks for showing me their music, Garrett. =3 'tis awesome.<br /><br />oh yeah, i just remembered something else. my old Nokia piece of junk phone has been acting the spazz lately. i think the battery is going dead. either way, i hate the damn thing. and after Ma's old Blackjack took a swim, she had to get a new one, right? but the old one, after it dried out, still works perfectly. so it was a simple matter of prying the back off my old phone, retrieving the SIM, and slipping the SIM into the old Blackjack. Ta-da, i has a snazzy new phone!<br /><br />i like this thing much better than my old one, and even figured out how to customise the profiles and home screen and whatnot. yay for me! but i'm an indentured servant for a few weeks to pay for the use of her old phone. i'm not complaining 'cuz i know it's fair, even though i hate dusting and vacuuming with a passion.<br /><br />anyhow, that's it, i think. peace owt.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-49049437827729700182009-01-04T12:13:00.000-05:002009-01-04T12:23:58.865-05:00i am a cupcake.first post of the new year, whoopee! -does a dance-<br /><br />anyhow. first update: work was an adventure today! =D<br /><br />because it had been raining and storming all night long, so the whole stretch of land Diamond Pointe takes up was mostly swamp. a lot of the pasture-space has been scarred clean of grass by years of horse hooves and people boots stomping all over it. and some places, like in front of the gates and water troughs, have been pounded into fine dust. which inevitably turns to quicksand-esque mud whenever it rains.<br /><br />it was drizzling and mizzling and dripping for the first half of my shift, and for the better part of it i was walking to and fro in the pastures laden with whatever. so i was out in the wet and the muck all morning. most sane people would find this unpleasant.<br /><br />my inner five-year-old was jabbering euphorically most of the time i was at the barn. i was getting to play in the mud and rain! and i was getting paid money to do it!! that is any child's dream job. and since i'm such a kid at heart, i was having way too much fun. is there any rule against having fun at work? if so, i broke it. majorly.<br /><br />oh, i forgot one of the entertaining parts. for some inexplicable reason, when i first got to work there was no power for half the street. why, i still have no clue. but the streetlamps were out, and the lights in the barn wouldn't go on. and since i got there at about six fifty or something, it was still pretty dark and dusky out there. 'specially because it was raining and cloudy.<br /><br />also. Alethea made a bad call last night and opted to leave the horses out. and it stormed all night. so everyone was wet and grumpy. some of the horses, i found out today, have fur that curls when it gets wet. the old man Flare is one of them, and he earned himself the nickname Curly-Q today.<br /><br />if you're wondering about the title for this post, it's because i wore my cupcake beanie Kelsey gave me for Christmas. =3 it is cute. and i love it.<br /><br />anyhow, enough rambling from the spaz. -salutes- peace owt.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-258199710996254362008-12-30T11:46:00.001-05:002008-12-30T12:24:33.142-05:00a day at the shelter<span style="font-size:85%;">random short story i wrote about TCAR. enjoy. [i sized down the font 'cuz thing this is kinda long to stuff into one post.]</span><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">***</span></div><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I park the car -- sloppily, I suck at parking -- near the far end of the lot, because all these ijjits in big SUVs take up so damn much room. Phone in my pocket, it reads 2:15. I need to remember to keep checking it, 'cuz I hafta be back home before six.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I go through the automatic doors and stroll directly through the store to the back, and there's the familiar chaos: dogs barking, people chatting, volunteers standing around waiting for something to do.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The two folding tables first, closest to the door, holding Judy's laptop and all the paperwork and stuff. A few chairs behind it for the volunteers, and some chairs on the other side for people to sit while the adoption papers are filled out.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Judy's got the mop, cleaning up Brad's latest slug-trail. When he whizzes and craps, he leaves them behind like a snail's slime trail. That beagle is such an attention junkie, and he's a pig -- he's so fat! Not surprising, since he can't use his back legs. Got hit by a car, messed up his back. He could walk after the accident, but he jumped off the roof of the doghouse in his run, and now he has his own doggy wheelchair. Judy made a plywood cover for the chair, and Bradley the beagle has a sleigh for the holidays. Cute.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Judy looks up as I approach and smiles, her round face creasing around her eyes, peering through shaggy sandy-blonde bangs. "Hey there, Ann!" she greets me, cheerful as always. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />I grin back. "Hey Judy. Hey Brad," I add, leaning down to scratch the beagle's liver-and-white head. He's out of his chair for the moment, dragging his fat self along by his front paws. He does the greatest sea lion impression -- all I have to do is scratch under his chin, and Brad points his nose up at the ceiling.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">There are two crates closest to the tables. One is empty, the other has a reddish lab-mix curled up in it, and a black and white Jack Russel terrier. "Handsome," reads the lab's papers, and "Ted" is the Jack. As I pass, I poke my hand into the crate.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Hey Teddy!" I croon at the Jack, smiling at Ted's enthusiastically wagging stub-tail. "What's up wit'chew, little spaz?" Teddy licks my fingers and wiggles, his brown eyes bright.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Ann!" calls the volunteer in the big pen. One side of the big pen is attached to the two crates up front, and the opposite side similarly clipped onto two more crates.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Hey Sydney! Long time no see," I tell the volunteer, smiling at the lanky girl. "I see you have a lapful," I observe wryly, looking at the black and tan knot on her folded legs.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Sydney rolls her eyes. "Yep. Gabby wouldn't leave me alone until I let her get up here." She strokes the back of the dog in her lap. Another beagle -- Tri County was originally a beagle rescue, so there's a lot of beagles and small dogs.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Except for the bony, rail thin lab-boxer mix in one of the far crates. His name is Romo, and as big as he is, that mutt should be sixty or seventy pounds. He's likely closer to forty, because he's emaciated. He eats like a horse, but getting him back to fighting weight is a long process. </span></div><span style="font-size:85%;"><div align="left"><br />Speaking of fighting -- the tiny, dark scars on his face and legs make me think his former owner fought him. Romo is certainly agressive enough to have been fought, though only in certain circumstances. He doesn't like men on the other side of the fence from him. Other than that, Romo is a sweetheart.</span></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The rattling of the big pen's fence wakes me up, and a smile comes to my lips. "Hello Tracy," I croon, stepping up to the fence to pet the blue heeler mix about to turn herself inside out in excitement. Her head is mostly black, but the rest of her has the heeler's salt-and-pepper mix of black, gray and white hairs. Her fur is so thick and soft. Tracy seems about to knock the fence over, so I unhook the gate and slip inside so she can claw me and not the fence.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">As soon as I'm inside, predictably half the dogs in the pen come to say hello. I sink into a crouch to let them investigate, and Tracy promptly tackles me, making me overbalance and fall onto my back. Tracy sits on my chest and covers my face with saliva.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Sydney laughs and tries to pull the enthusiastic mutt from me. "Tracy, c'mere, silly girl. Let Ann breathe."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Naw, it's okay. Yes, I love you too, Tracy. Yes. Lick lick lick, liiiiick lick lick, wag tail tail. Tail wag, wag tail. Tail. Lick lick, yes. Lick." My monologue only seems to encourage Tracy. It takes a few moments for her to stop licking every inch of my face she can reach. Finally, I can sit up, and I use my shirt sleeve to remove the worst of the slobber.</span><br /><div align="center"><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">***</span></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Hey Aaaann, guess whaaaat?" Judy says in a sing-song voice, grinning hopefully at me with the cat keys in hand.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">With a sigh of mock long-suffering, I remove Gabby the beagle from my lap and stand up. "You need me to clean the cat cages," I respond, smiling. Cat duty has been my job since about the time I started volunteering.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Judy hands me the keys, and I make my way through the store toward the cat room, swerving around Petsmart shoppers. The thing in my hand is actually a collection of about five keys -- only three of which work on the padlocks on the cat cages -- attached to what I suspect used to be one of the toys like you'd hang in a parrot cage. It's several loops of thick rope, with square blocks seeming embedded in the rope, and someone has written the letters T-C-A-R on those blocks. "TCAR" is the initials of the shelter: Tri-County Animal Rescue. Also attached to the rope keychain is one of those gray, shapeless plastic things that makes the detectors at the front of the store squeal in case someone tries to steal the keys, though why someone would steal the cat keys is beyond me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The cat room is a small closet-like space set into one wall of the store. The wall that faces the store is glass, so that people can look in and see the cats. There are ten cages stacked up in two rows against the far wall, and a space between the cages and the glass wall that is barely wide enough for two people to walk. This makes more than two people standing in the cat room a bit awkward, even though the room is ten feet or so long.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">As soon as I enter, the stuffy climate of the room makes me wince inwardly. There's poor ventilation, and the only way to keep the cat room from getting unbearably close (and smelly) is to keep the door open. Here's the rub: you have to keep the door closed while you're cleaning the cages, or else a cat might get out into the store. The Airwick puffer-dispenser thing perched on top of the cages does nothing to mask the scent of feline bodily waste.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">The first thing I do is to unlock all the cages, checking the bowls of food and water on the cage doors to see if anyone needs a refill. One of the cats is a young adult black DSH male named Sammy Lee. Sammy kicks up a racket when I walk in, meowing and begging to be paid attention to. Sammy is an attention junkie, just like Brad. Sammy Lee doesn't like other cats, but he loves people. He won't shut up if someone's in the room until he gets petted.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Because Sammy is so sweet and loveable, I open up his cage and sit in it (it's on the bottom row) and let Sammy climb into my lap. He starts purring as soon as I open the cage door, and immediately stops meowing. He has what he wants. I sit there for a few minutes, loving on Sammy. He sprawls out on my lap, happy as a clam, his eyes narrowed to slits and purring like a motor. Happy Sammy.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">But I have a job to do, so eventually I have to peel the cat off my lap and get to work. Sam yowls again when I close the cage door. I ignore him and start cleaning -- getting the crap and wee out of the litterboxes and putting more litter in there if needs be, exchanging dirty laundry (the cats have beds in each cage and a blanket between them and the metal floor) for clean laundry, sweeping the grit off of the cage floor if I need to; general maintainence. I sweep the cat room floor, put the dirty laundry into a black trash bag I got from Judy and double-bag the dirty litter in the flimsy white trash bags that are the only kind I could find in the cat room, and I'm done cleaning. Now it's time to play with the kitties.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I take Sammy Lee out of his cage and hold his black, purring, fat self in my arms for a while. Sammy just chills; he'll sit in your arms for as long as you're willing to hold him. But since Sammy is a little fat, my arms get tired before Sam is ready to go back. He meows accusingly at me when I put him back in his cage.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"Get over yourself, Sammy, you've had your turn," I tell him sternly. He just keeps meowing. </span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Next, I play for a little bit with a lanky several-week-old black DSH kitten named Bunker. Bunker is a spaz. He has more personality and energy in his little toe than a dog Romo's size has in his whole body. I love Bunker.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I take Bunker out of his cage and put him on the floor, and play with the feather-toy that all the cats salivate over. They adore the feather toys, and rip them up. Bunker has a blast chasing the feather toy around in circles and figure-eights. I laugh hysterically at his antics. Bunker's legs are too long, so he sometimes trips over them. His kitten-ness is adorable.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">When it looks like Bunker is a bit pooped, I pick him up again. Bunker is very affectionate; he starts purring when I hold him. He lets me cradle him on his back. Bunker also likes it when I let him hang out on my head. I lift him up there and he chills out, his chest resting on the top of my head. I cup my hand behind his bum to keep him up there. His front paws hang in my eyes, and I blow my breath on them to tease him. I can see his little chin just above my brow. It's too cute. Bunker tries to eat my hair while he's parked out on my head.</span><br /><br /><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">***</span></div><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">When I get back to the dog pen, Matt, one of the younger volunteers, is tormenting Pepper with a lazer-pointer. Pepper is a six-month-old border collie owned by Anne, one of the adult volunteers. Being a border collie, Pepper has strong chase-and-herd instincts. She is fixated on the spot of red on the floor, and Matt makes her spin in circles trying to eat that damn redbug. Anne watches in amusement. "If you ever wondered how to drive a border collie crazy...," she remarks wryly.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Matt has two lazer-pointers. He tosses me the other one, and between the two of us we drive poor Pepper to distraction, because now there's <em>two</em> redbugs. She can't figure out which one to chase. Eventually Anne takes pity on her dog and tells us to stop making Pepper nuts. Matt goes to answer the phone. Sydney has left by this time, so I'm on my own in the dog pen.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">It's the after-lunch-and-bathroom-break naptime for the dogs. I managed to escape the extra chaos of feeding time when I was cleaning cats. Lunchtime for TCAR's dogs at Petsmart is always eventful for the volunteers, because about ten minutes after the food is put down the inevitable flood of excrement is unleashed. What goes in must come out....</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">But by now the food bowls have already been mostly taken up and the food knocked onto the floor by klutzy dogs swept up, so now everyone is dozing. And all the volunteers breathe a sigh of relief at the calm and quiet. Because all is peaceful in the big pen, I decide to spend some quality time with Romo.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">For all his bark, Romo is a big softie. He wags his tail as I crawl into the crate with him, and I see in his dark eyes how happy he is that someone decided to make him not so lonely. We have to keep Romo in a crate because it's easy for him to climb out of the big pen.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">Romo's bony self is a bit sharp. His hipbones, hocks and elbows are pointy and hurt if they dig into you. His tail is long and whip-like. Some of the younger volunteers who are familiar with him joke that Romo's tail is a deadly weapon that could slice things. It hurts to be hit by Romo's tail.</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><br />Despite this, I pull Romo into my lap when I'm comfortably seated in the crate. He's a pushover, so he lets me shove him around and pull on him without batting an eye. But when a man strolls around the big pen, a growl rumbles from Romo's muzzle, puffing out his tawny jowls.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I wrap my hand around his muzzle and pull Romo's face against my own to look sternly into his eyes. "Hush, Romo," I tell him. There's no problem with me putting my hands around Romo's face and mouth, because I know Romo won't hurt me. If I didn't trust him, I wouldn't be in the crate. But despite the bite-scars on his face and legs -- the usual places dogs are bitten in illegal dogfights -- and the warning growls that bubble up from his chest when men walk by, I trust Romo.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">When Judy notices Romo's growling, she sighs and remarks that Romo would be a perfect dog for a single woman who wants a living security system. And she's right, that would be Romo's perfect home. Judy sees how I can pull Romo all over the place and shakes her head, smiling. "Look at that! He's putty in your hands, Ann," Judy says. And he is.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I check my phone regularly, and sigh with regret when it tells me the time is 5:30. Time to head home. I worm my way out of Romo's cage, pulling his head to me to plant a last fond kiss on the knob on his skull that some dogs have. "Bye Romo," I say, scratching the tan mutt's ears one last time before I leave. Romo wags his tail, looking at me with wide eyes that seem to say, "I don't want you to leave."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I wave to Judy and Anne and Sandy as I stroll toward the doors. "Bye everybody!"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">"See ya, Ann! Thanks for coming!" Judy says, grinning at me.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-size:85%;">I walk through the now-dark parking lot and find my car, the little blue Prius looking small and dapper next to the huge Ford truck parked next to it. I slide into the driver's seat and punch the "on" button, and hum to the Sugar Ray CD playing instead of the Christmas tunes that took over my favorite radio station.</span>Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-78605277460342907072008-12-18T18:34:00.001-05:002008-12-18T19:09:27.120-05:00"Avarice. The avarice never ends!""I want golf clubs, I want diamonds, I want a pony so I can ride it twice, get bored, and sell it to make glue!!"<br /><br />i wanted to hug Jim Carey when i first saw that movie.<br /><br />is it just me, or has Christmas nowadays become less about celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ and more about materialism? 'cause it seems that way to me.<br /><br />i know i'm hardly the most religious person around, but this trend really pisses me off. it just serves to reinforce my suspicion that the good in human kind is slowly leeching out of society.<br /><br />i long ago gave up the cherished, naïve assumption that everyone in the world is kind and selfless and compassionate. i long ago formed the opinion that a lot of the people in this world are greedy, self-centered, and maybe, just maybe, don't give a shit.<br /><br />so even though this trend comes as no surprise to me, it still rubs salt in the wound, because i truly <em>want</em> to believe that humanity as a whole still retains some shred of... well, humanity. so it makes me sad and no little bit angry that people would do this.<br /><br />here's my deal: even though i'm not very religious, i still respect religion and all it does to help people's lives, and some aspects i do admire. so when something like this - like Christmas becoming nothing more than a chance for the rich company owners to suck more money up into their bank accounts to sit on and hoarde like a sleepy dragon - happens, it doesn't sit well with me.<br /><br />maybe i'm just being idyllic and naïve still, expecting people's virtues to overcome their vices, but when i was a little kid and i was taught what Christmas meant, they never mentioned extravagant decorations and piles of expensive gifts and people getting trampled to death in front of a Walmart. so what i hear and what i see aren't matching up.<br /><br />here's the gist of a quote from Sra. Depew from when i took Spanish from her: "your actions are so loud that I can't hear your words."<br /><br />the morals of all those beloved Christmas stories are being drowned out by the screaming, wailing avarice all around me. i can't hear it anymore.<br /><br />so that's why, for the past few weeks, i've decided that i very nearly hate Christmas. the charm it held for me when i was little has faded, and now all i see is greed. it's frankly a bit sickening. that's why i've become such a Scrooge. it's not because i don't believe in Christmas -- exactly the opposite. i still believe in it, when most of the world has forgotten what it really means.<br /><br />i will hold on to those stories i learned as a child. i will hold in my heart the true meaning of Christmas, in spite of the rest of the world and their avarice and greed.<br /><br />i don't need gifts. i don't need a tree. i don't need any of that. all i need to enjoy Christmas are things i already have for myself - my family, my friends. and the true meaning of Christmas.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-65027447931808459652008-11-21T16:01:00.000-05:002008-11-21T16:11:25.506-05:00Wishing on a neon stari... can die happy now. i have witnessed the inhuman awesomeness that is a Trans-Siberian Orchestra concert.<br />oh my GAWD!<br /><br />there aren't words to describe how mind-blowingly, orgasmically amazing that was. suffice it to say, i wouldn't have missed it if immediately after the show was over i would be skinned alive and dimmed in hydrochloric acid in retribution for attending.<br /><br />a basic rundown of the show in Mike's words: "the first half was 'Oh Holy Night', the second part was 'oh holy shit!'"<br />they did traditional Christmas tunes (my favorites were Hark! The Herald Angels Sing, Joy to the World and Carol of the Bells) and remixed them in kick-ass rock/metal style with their own embellishments thrown in here and there.<br />then the second part featured classical music (like Marriage of Figaro and Beethoven's 5th) that they remixed TSO style -- and i swear, Mozart and Beethoven were <span style="font-style: italic;">way</span> before their time, 'cuz their compositions make perfect rock music -- with more of their own stuff.<br /><br />the lights strobed me out a few times, and from out seats we could feel the blasts of heat from the pyrotechnics, and my ears were still ringing by the time we got home from the loudness of the speakers.<br />but it was so utterly worth it.<br /><br />and i'll stop gloating now, or try to at least. it might take a while for me to recover full hearing.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-90525510757608404542008-11-18T17:50:00.000-05:002008-11-18T18:22:21.057-05:00goofballSam is such a doofus, bless 'is heart.<br /><br />for those who don't know, Sam is one of the horses at the barn. he's four or five years old, so he's still young. i've been riding him lately, both in lessons and on my own time. i'm not leasing him though, he's still all Dawn's horse.<br /><br />so, why am i riding him? well, simply this: Dawn has slightly less experience riding than i do, and she's a bit nervous. Sam is young, and even though he's trained, he's inexperienced. little things like consistent speed around the arena, keeping his head in one place at the trot, picking up his feet so he doesn't trip over himself every five minutes, flexing around turns, that sorta thing. he's laid back for such a young horse, but riding him isn't at all like riding Diamond or Romeo or one of the older lesson horses.<br /><br />so, we have an underconfident rider and an inexperienced horse. see where it's going? Dawn gets nervous riding him, so she doesn't ride him much, so he doesn't get experience. when she does ride him, she's not sure what she's doing sometimes. it snowballs, and it's frankly kinda sad, since Dawn obvious loves Sam and wants to give him a good life, and Sam likes his work.<br />he does enjoy being ridden, believe it or not. yes, he gets tired and tried to pull my arms out of their sockets, but he doesn't get frustrated and throw temper-tantrums like Roxy does sometimes.<br /><br />Dawn rides about the same time i have my lessons (when she does ride him), and Alethea told me when she explained the setup that Dawn started to admire my riding. Alethea must've recommended me to her, too. either way, a few weeks ago Alethea asked me if i wanted to ride Sam for a while. i'd get to ride a horse for free when i rode him on my own time, it would give Sam a much-needed workout with a more confident, more experienced rider, and it would hopefully make Dawn more confident when she'd get on him. a win-win-win situation, as i saw it. so i accepted.<br /><br />Sam is entertaining to ride. his little "baby-horse" habits, as Alethea calls them, keep me on my toes. the few times i've been able to work with him, he's been getting better. he's getting used to flexing and doing serpentines and figure-eights, which are the bane of stiff horses. yesterday when i had my lesson on him, he did his best yet with the serpentines and rounding.<br /><br />yesterday, we also did something relatively new: poles. Alethea put the big lengths of PVC-piping we use for jumps flat on the arena floor and had me walk and trot him over them. Sam got really into it, he was having so much fun! you should've seen him, it was a hoot. sometimes he can get a bit sluggish going into the turns and on the short sides of the arena, but rounding the turns at C he was stepping out like i've never seen him do before. he was having a blast going over those poles! it was so cute. once we graduate to actually raising the poles off the ground with the blocks, i can already tell Sam's gonna love jumping. he's still got the youngster's energy.<br /><br />part of it may be the cold, but i think it was mostly enthusiasm. last night he didn't start yanking on the reins like he usually does when it gets close to time to end the lesson; he does that when he gets tired. and i didn't have as much trouble getting him going as usual, though i'm sure <span style="font-style: italic;">that</span> was the cold.<br /><br />he did spook when Haley, the one who had the afternoon shift at work today, dumped a wheelbarrow of stall-mucking refuse in the piles behind the arena. it took fifteen or twenty minutes to get him back on track and to make him stop shying away from that corner of the arena, but eventually he got over it. goofy horse.<br /><br />y'know, it was really cold last night. down below fifty, almost forty degrees. but when you're riding you don't notice the cold. despite the common belief, the rider works just as hard as the horse. i work harder riding Sam than riding Roxy, 'cos Sam is the baby horse. (really he's not a baby anymore, but Alethea's pet-name stuck. Dawn calls him "Little man," which doesn't really help.) when i was grooming him after the lesson and putting his sheet on, i could see my breath. still inside the barn, though the only thing that does is protect from the wind. there's no temperature insulation in that place.<br /><br />that's pretty much all i've got to say. spent the whole blog talking about something half or more of my readers don't understand much of besides the articles and conjunctions. oh well.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-16487891075580720142008-11-05T19:00:00.000-05:002008-11-05T19:08:24.970-05:00OH EM EFF GEE -falls over-y'know what the election(s) remind me of?<br /><br />i think only Kate would know what i'm talking about, but if anyone besides her has read the Mode series by Piers Anthony (i think that's his name), you'd know what i'm getting at.<br /><br />the book i'm thinking about is Fractal Mode, i forget which number in the series it was. Anyway, the struggle was between the Despots which were patriarchal, and the despots came into power for every inhabited planet in that mode by a certain male going to the "first of the first" node and pushing it. the Amazons were matriarchal, and they came into power one planet at a time by a certain female going to the "ninth of the ninth" node and pushing it. the Despots had been in power on the planet on which our bunch had fallen for time out of mind, and thy had to help the chosen woman to break their reign so they could leave. that's a basic summary of the plot for you peeps who haven't read it.<br /><br />Kate, maybe you've already seen where my epiphany came from. but the story about how the dude in the story brought the Despots into power for all the planets reminds me VERY strongly of this election: Obama was elected and it seems like almost every seat in the legislature that people are running for is being won by Democrats. can anyone else see the similarities? i just now did, and i almost choked on my bagel-bite.<br /><br />that's all for now, i just had to get that out of my system.<br /><br />and Kate, that's a very shmexy tattoo. -nodnod- everyone who reads this blog who hasn't seen her tat, go look.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-60400981544699702102008-10-10T15:39:00.000-04:002008-10-10T15:52:48.886-04:00heh hehsorry if i've been a moody grumpy-fart lately peeps. i think it's hormones. -shrug-<br /><br />anyhow, it's application time. ooh, fun. (boring as hell, and these people are so damn nosy! yeesh.)<br />but it dredged up a few things that i thought i'd gotten mostly over, but apparently it wasn't entirely gone. maybe i'm being a bit of a bitch by bringing this up, but i feel like expressing it. so bear with me here.<br /><br />the question was the marital status of my parents. now, i'd thought that that whole deal was comfortably past and i'd gotten over it, but when my throat tightened, it told me that i thought wrong.<br />don't ask me why i'm getting back on this now, i haven't much of an idea either. may be the same hormones that have made me act more like the snappy thing i was in Grier. and yes, Patrick and you guys who've been wondering, the way i've been acting these past few days is a lot like i was at Grier. a snappy, antisocial misanthrope.<br /><br />but yep. apparently the separation/divorce thing has decided to come back and gnaw away at me some more.<br />here's the gist of it: that sucked. i don't have it in me to get terribly mad at either of my parents, since despite outward appearances i love them both to death, but that fucking sucked. maybe if they'd figure out the stress it's caused me, maybe they won't be that stupid anymore.<br />several times, y'know, i've thought to myself, <span style="font-style: italic;">i wish they'd grow the fuck up. they aren't the only ones in the universe, think of me and Kate!</span><br />pardon all the French, but it serves my purposes well enough to get the point across.<br /><br />i'll quit while i'm ahead, maybe take a break from this irritating application. half the stuff i don't have the answers to immediately anyway. -rolls eyes- nosy bastards. why do they care about half this crap?<br /><br />one more thing: this is just me ranting for no good reason, indulging in a self-pity party. i'll get over it here soon, and with the mood i'm in attempts at sympathy may be taken wrong. sorry to slip back into the pissy misanthrope persona, but there it stands.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-71043215176984236012008-09-21T16:26:00.000-04:002008-09-21T16:40:31.351-04:00-sniffle-by thinutheth are nod habby wiff be. dey're infecteded. i've been thneezing an' thiff'ling an' thuch for de patht tree dayth. an' typing thith phoedetic'lly ith hard. if you need a translation: my sinuses are not happy with me. they're infecteded. i've been sneezing and sniffling and such for the past three days. and typing this phoenetically is hard.<br /><br />anyway, latest news: Carrousel? me? what?! -facedesk- i know Seester will be beside herself and Mum is excited, but i'm not. it's not technically supposed to be a beauty pageant, but it's close enough that i'm not too sure if i want to do it. nice how they don't give you a choice, isn't it? >_><br />'sides, everyone at Huss knows that Kara will walk away with it, that's a given.<br /><br />and today, when we were hiking on Crowders, the weirdest thing happened. on the way back down from the peak on the ultra-steep Backside trail, we came across this very skinny, very young squirrel. it was hanging out eight feet or so up the trunk of a tree, and was unnaturally calm around the people (and dogs). it even came down from its perch, low enough that if i wanted to i could've reached out and plucked it from the bark! it even came down to the ground, and followed us! the squirrel frekkin' followed us! it was like a Steven King novel!! it kept following after us for a good few hundred feet, completely ignoring the nuts we tossed down for it. i couldn't tell if it was just craving another living thing's company or if it had rabies or something. it was kinda creepy...Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-76145962454511641752008-08-27T17:04:00.000-04:002008-08-27T17:13:28.650-04:00Whether or not you find your own way, you're bound to find some way."If you happen to find my way, please return it, as it was lost some years ago. I imagine by now it's quite rusty."<br /><br />the school library has Phantom Tollbooth. ohmgush. i'd picked up a Steven King for AR reading for English, and i saw Phantom Tollbooth and i nearly tripped over myself getting it to the check-out desk. i got it halfway through third period, and about an hour and a half after getting home from school i finished.<br /><br />don't worry, i paid attention to class when we were doing things. not very enthusiastically and not always with my eyes open, but i paid attention. i'm so cool i can have my head down and eyes closed and still listen. i'z an audio-learner. aren't i special.<br /><br />in other news, here's an update on my state of mind: BARG -collapse-<br /><br />i've been tired and grouchy and blegh all day, and in a state of lethargy since Monday. why, i haven't an extraterrestrial clue. i took a nap yesterday afternoon after school. i never take naps during the day.<br /><br />egh. not a good omen for the first week of school. >_O otherwise, the world of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">pissy</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">blonde</span> <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">midget</span> is boring. for now, peace.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-46398517430357292122008-08-07T11:33:00.000-04:002008-08-07T11:49:53.079-04:00oh my God IT'S STILL ALIVE!aaaah okay, forgive me, but I just hafta get this out. if you have an aversion to descriptions of violence and such, don't read much past the next paragraph. i won't post the link to the video 'cos it's just too disturbing. i couldn't finish watching it.<br /><br />someone sent me one of those chain-letter-esque messages, stop the fur trade. it was accompanied by a video of a fur farm, somewhere I'm guessing like Russia. they're skinning foxes.<br /><br />ALIVE. the foxes are still a-fucking-live (excuse the profanity but it's warranted this time). I see one moving and struggling as they pull the hide off. and they leave it alive, too. in the video one of the skinned foxes is in what looks like the bed of a truck, LOOKING AROUND. it's alive and looking around, but it has no skin.<br /><br />y'know how people say they don't wanna watch but they can't look away? I had one of those moments with the skinless fox. after that I just couldn't watch anymore, I had to stop.<br /><br />my inner self was curled up in the corner puking and shivering and sobbing. my outer self was about to puke. i'm still very disturbed. i'll have the image of the skinless fox burned into my mind's eye now.<br /><br />i'm going to go do something else now. if someone of my readers has an affection for fox fur, i suggest you reassess your wardrobe. or at least be sure it's faux fur.<br /><br />all my eloquence is gone now, since my Muse has joined my inner self in the corner. I don't blame either of them. anyway, I'll stop rambling. peace out.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-88733157790907139092008-07-19T00:34:00.000-04:002008-07-19T00:36:43.408-04:00EL OH EFFIN' ELGeorge Carlin is my hero. look him up on Youtube, the man's a genius. too bad he's dead.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cgps85scy1g&NR=1">Clicky</a> for a hilarious video.<br /><br />oh my gawsh. and the thing about that video, half of what he says happens to me. o_o it's creepy.<br /><br />i can't think of much else to say, i'm about to laugh my ass off.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-1113703334785901292008-07-01T00:05:00.000-04:002008-07-01T00:07:47.884-04:00Trials and Tribulations part IIhere's the second half of this chapter. look to the post below this for the first half.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***<br /><div style="text-align: left;"> <p class="MsoNormal">At that moment, Howl trudged in. He looked slightly more disheveled and considerably more miserable than when he left as he shooed Michael from the chair and slumped in it dejectedly, his face a study in tragedy.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I love her dearly, more’s the pity. No matter how she rages and raves I can’t help but be captivated by her – but love is a cruel mistress! Why did the arrow have to strike when I was looking upon that ill-tempered witch?” Howl moaned, gesturing limply with one hand.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“This witch is only ill-tempered when you try to slither out of things, Howell Jenkins!” Sophie spat as she prowled back into the castle, an armful of groceries in tow.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Howl cringed – she only used his full real name when she was <i style="">very</i> angry at him. “You sound so much like Megan, Sophie.”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Well maybe you should go back to listening to your sister and I’ll just keep up the flower shop here.” Sophie remarked, her voice cold.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Howl’s face fell, the color draining out of it. He leaped from his chair in a flurry of whatever garb he’d worn to bed and went to the red-haired witch, wrapping his arms soothingly around her. “Now now, you don’t mean that, do you love?” He said, desperation tingeing his words. “If you do that I’ll end up covering the whole of Market Chipping with green slime!” He buried his face in her mane of reddish hair, making pitiful mewling noises.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sophie left off slicing bacon and put the knife down, staring forward with her jaw set belligerently. Michael looked on with wide eyes – he feared Sophie would follow through with her threat and they’d all drown in slime.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">She sighed heavily and folded her own arms over Howl’s, leaning against the taller wizard resignedly. “You’re pathetic, Howl. Why do I keep falling for your charms?” She grumbled.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">He immediately brightened up and planted a fond kiss on her cheek, beaming as if he hadn’t just been in green-slime-mode. “It’s because you love me, of course. And I love you too, my dear Sophie. Despite all your faults.”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sophie turned around and shoved him playfully away, a smile threatening to curve her lips. “Oh, geroff, you great fraud. You’ve twice as many faults as I!”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Isn’t it the sad truth!” Howl said, splaying a hand on his chest nobly. “It’s a wonder anyone bothers to stay around, really!”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sophie rolled her eyes, shoving Howl away again. “Go on then, spend your two hours in the bathroom to go see the King. And if I find you eyeing any ladies on the side…” She trailed off menacingly.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“I wouldn’t think of it, Sophie dear!” Howl protested with an air of injured innocence, fleeing from Sophie’s stick into the bathroom, calling at Calcifer for hot water.</p> </div></div>Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-21880670453411988632008-06-30T23:56:00.000-04:002008-07-01T00:02:02.919-04:00Trials and Tribulationsi'm writing a fanfic for <span style="font-style: italic;">Howl's Moving Castle</span>, which i fell in love with the moment i started reading it. Patrick, darlin', your letting me borrow it was the highlight of my week. =D i finished it the day i got it and by the next night i'd re-read it. and this fic, i feel like posting here. 'cos it's awesome, if i say so myself.<br /><br />and no, i'm not capitalizing. 'cos i'm a lazyass. =D it's 1,213 words long, by the bye. i might end up posting it in sections. in fact, i think i'll do that.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">***<br /><div style="text-align: left;"> <p class="MsoNormal">Calcifer was dozing as a low flicker of flame among the ashes and coals of the fire, when the door opened and the overpowering scent of flowers flooded into the room. The smell was so intense it roused the fire demon; he clambered up the logs with green brows furrowed. He thought Sophie had put a stop to Howl’s going off and courting girls!<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">But, it was Sophie and Michael who staggered through the door, laden with fresh flowers to sell in the shop that day. Sophie, to have something to do, liked to keep the shop going. And since both Michael and Howl were so busy, and since Sophie was less a woman and more a force of nature when she so chose, they didn’t bother arguing. Calcifer, being in and out frequently since Sophie released him, wasn’t precisely sure why the wizard and apprentice were so busy.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">But as it would turn out, he’d soon discover why.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Hullo Calcifer.” Michael grunted as he heaved a large bundle of flowers after Sophie. He waved a hand and the large tub he’d made and it floated in Sophie’s wake, and the young man flopped down into the chair with a puff.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Where’s Howl?” Calcifer inquired curiously.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Dead to the world!” Sophie remarked with a touch of temper as she reappeared, wiping her hands on the apron she’d donned for a day in the shop.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Asleep in a drunken stupor, due to wake with one mother of a hangover.” Michael explained, jerking his chin upstairs. “Can’t you hear the snoring?”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">As Calcifer listened, the uproarious hoots and honks were clearly audible from the still-filthy bedroom. He and Sophie had had a rather spectacular quarrel about that room – Howl remained adamant that it stayed dirty, while Sophie was determined to at least make a dent in the grunge now she was a more permanent fixture in the castle.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“The slippery, slithery brat.” Sophie spat from where she was rummaging around in the food closet.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">At Calcifer’s perplexed flicker, Michael sighed in resignation and explained. “Since Wizard Suliman retired, the King appointed Howl the Royal Wizard. For good.”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“That’s good, isn’t it?” Calcifer ventured.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Not for us!” Sophie growled, tossing aside some unidentifiable insect with a violent flick.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Calcifer was taken aback. “Uhruh… how?”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Sophie whirled around, stomping toward the broom cupboard. She snatched her stick out of it and stalked toward the archway, muttering darkly. She went into Market Chipping in a huff, remarking over her shoulder that she was going to restock the food closet.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“No telling what she’ll do in that mood. Last time she threw a bucket of caustic weed-killer at my face.” Said a mournful voice behind them. They turned to see a disheveled Howl standing at the foot of the staircase, his eyes red-rimmed. With a sigh of long-suffering, Howl stepped into the room and went through the archway. “I suppose I should go make sure she doesn’t blow anything up. With my luck she’ll flay me to bits with that stick of hers. Treat my remains kindly, you two.”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Calcifer picked his jaw up off the log. “Did Howl just go out into town, looking like <i style="">that</i>?”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Michael smiled slightly, but his face soon fell. He fed Calcifer another log with a morose expression, causing a flicker of concern in the demon. “What’s up?”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Howl and Sophie, of course. Since Sophie realized her fortune and her happy-ever-after lie with Howl, she’s been badgering him to get married. But you know Howl – he hates being pinned down. She almost had him, but then the King appointed him Royal Wizard and he’s been using it as an excuse to slip out whenever Sophie brings marriage up.”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Calcifer nodded wisely – he knew Howl all too well. That sounded just like him. Even though he was honestly in love with Sophie and not like the pointless romances with those countless girls before, his nature was always to eel his way out of an unpleasant situation. Like having to get married.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“And of course Sophie’s really upset about it – she’s awful fond of Howl, you know. As much as they quarrel they’re a good match.”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“<i style="">Because</i> they quarrel they’re a good match!” Calcifer retorted with a hiss of laughter. “They’re the only ones who’ll put up with each other for extended periods!”<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“Well, I don’t know about that…” Michael said with a frown.<o:p><br /></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">“You’re too nice, you don’t count.” Calcifer added with a scathing crackle.</p></div></div>Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36978128.post-17195699697771314882008-06-13T22:48:00.000-04:002008-06-13T23:07:50.523-04:00OofMy lower back is gonna huuuurt tomorrow. -groan-<br /><br />Had work today. The morning shift - 7 to 11. I think I officially prefer the morning shift, it's not NEARLY as ungodly hot.<br /><br />We had that big storm last night, right? Hooch scrambled under my bed. I held the door for him to leave, but he stayed under there. So I said "okay. You aren't gonna leave now you'll be stuck in here all night." So he was stuck there all night.<br /><br />Anyhow. After that huge storm the barn was sopping. Wet. I mean SOAKED. The dust was mud, and everything was damp. There was water in the feeding tubs for the horses that eat outside.<br /><br />And guess what? There was a HUGE-ASS LAKE in one corner of the arena. I'm serious. The sand turned into quicksand, and there was a puddle of ankle-deep water.<br />So it was up to Micheal and I to drain said puddle. Which I fondly called Arena Lake.<br />So we went out there with a hoe, a shovel, and a broom and proceeded to drain the puddle. Trenches had to be dug from the dip in the sand that housed the water to outside the arena - which worked with minimal success because the grass and surrounding muck acted as a screen.<br />So we spent a good half-hour toiling away. I was raking out the sand from the main channel and scraping away the sand inside the draining puddle to keep the water flowing, while Micheal used the broom to push the water into the channel.<br />My lower back was screaming at me by the time we finished. The fact that I have a sway-back doesn't help when I have to do work like that. Oy.<br /><br />And by the end of draining the better part of Arena Lake, my shoes were waterlogged and full of grit. Eew. I rinsed them out before I left - my socks were beyond salvaging.<br />But it's three and a half hours for which I'm getting paid, so it's cool. A job I enjoy, I can do without too much trouble, and my co-workers are amiable. Better than most jobs, so I'm not complaining.Deserthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14737046604996160361noreply@blogger.com5